{"columns":[{"alerts":[{"code":"long_tail","level":"info","message":"2 singleton categories"}],"column":"title","extras":{"singletons":2,"top_values":[["The Canterbury Tales (Prologue)",1],["Sir Gawain and the Green Knight",1]]},"kind":"categorical","n":2,"n_null":0,"n_unique":2,"null_rate":0.0,"stats":{"cardinality":2,"entropy":1.0,"entropy_ratio":1.0,"top_rate":0.5,"top_value":"The Canterbury Tales (Prologue)"}},{"alerts":[{"code":"long_tail","level":"info","message":"2 singleton categories"}],"column":"author","extras":{"singletons":2,"top_values":[["Geoffrey Chaucer",1],["Anonymous",1]]},"kind":"categorical","n":2,"n_null":0,"n_unique":2,"null_rate":0.0,"stats":{"cardinality":2,"entropy":1.0,"entropy_ratio":1.0,"top_rate":0.5,"top_value":"Geoffrey Chaucer"}},{"alerts":[{"code":"constant","level":"info","message":"only one distinct value"}],"column":"year","extras":{"histogram":{"counts":[0,0,2,0,0],"edges":[1399.5,1399.7,1399.9,1400.1,1400.3,1400.5]},"sample":[1400.0,1400.0]},"kind":"numeric","n":2,"n_null":0,"n_unique":1,"null_rate":0.0,"stats":{"iqr":0.0,"kurtosis":0.0,"max":1400.0,"mean":1400.0,"median":1400.0,"min":1400.0,"n_outliers":0,"outlier_rate":0.0,"q1":1400.0,"q3":1400.0,"skew":0.0,"std":0.0,"zero_rate":0.0}},{"alerts":[{"code":"imbalance","level":"warn","message":"top value is 100.0% of rows"}],"column":"period","extras":{"singletons":0,"top_values":[["1325-1500",2]]},"kind":"categorical","n":2,"n_null":0,"n_unique":1,"null_rate":0.0,"stats":{"cardinality":1,"entropy":-0.0,"entropy_ratio":0.0,"top_rate":1.0,"top_value":"1325-1500"}},{"alerts":[{"code":"long_tail","level":"info","message":"2 singleton categories"}],"column":"text","extras":{"singletons":2,"top_values":[["\ufeffThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems\r\n    \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems\r\n\r\nAuthor: Geoffrey Chaucer\r\n\r\nEditor: David Laing Purves\r\n\r\nRelease date: November 1, 2000 [eBook #2383]\r\n                Most recently updated: December 6, 2022\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Donal O\u2019Danachair\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CANTERBURY TALES, AND OTHER POEMS ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Canterbury Tales\r\nand Other Poems\r\nof Geoffrey Chaucer\r\n\r\n\r\nEdited for Popular Perusal\r\nby\r\nD. Laing Purves\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nContents\r\n\r\n PREFACE\r\n LIFE OF CHAUCER\r\n THE CANTERBURY TALES\r\n The General Prologue\r\n The Knight\u2019s Tale\r\n The Miller\u2019s tale\r\n The Reeve\u2019s Tale\r\n The Cook\u2019s Tale\r\n The Man of Law\u2019s Tale\r\n The Wife of Bath\u2019s Tale\r\n The Friar\u2019s Tale\r\n The Sompnour\u2019s Tale\r\n The Clerk\u2019s Tale\r\n The Merchant\u2019s Tale\r\n The Squire\u2019s Tale\r\n The Franklin\u2019s Tale\r\n The Doctor\u2019s Tale\r\n The Pardoner\u2019s Tale\r\n The Shipman\u2019s Tale\r\n The Prioress\u2019s Tale\r\n Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Sir Thopas\r\n Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Melib\u0153us\r\n The Monk\u2019s Tale\r\n The Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale\r\n The Second Nun\u2019s Tale\r\n The Canon\u2019s Yeoman\u2019s Tale\r\n The Manciple\u2019s Tale\r\n The Parson\u2019s Tale\r\n Preces de Chauceres\r\n THE COURT OF LOVE <1>\r\n THE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE <1>\r\n THE ASSEMBLY OF FOWLS\r\n THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF <1>\r\n THE HOUSE OF FAME\r\n TROILUS AND CRESSIDA\r\n CHAUCER\u2019S DREAM <1>\r\n THE PROLOGUE TO THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN\r\n CHAUCER\u2019S A.B.C.\r\n MISCELLANEOUS POEMS\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTranscriber\u2019s Note.\r\n\r\n1. Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was not the author of\r\nthese poems.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTranscriber\u2019s Notes:\r\n\r\nCredits: This e-text was scanned, re-formatted and edited with extra notes by\r\nDonal O\u2019 Danachair (kodak_seaside@hotmail.com). I would like to acknowledge the\r\nhelp of Edwin Duncan, Juris Lidaka and Aniina Jokinnen in identifying some of\r\nthe poems no Longer attributed to Chaucer. This e-text, with its notes, is\r\nhereby placed in the public domain.\r\n\r\nPreface: The preface is for a combined volume of poems by Chaucer and Edmund\r\nSpenser. The Spenser poems will shortly be available as a separate E-text.\r\n\r\nSpelling and punctuation: These are the same as in the book as far as possible.\r\nAccents have been removed. Diereses (umlauts) have been removed from English\r\nwords and replaced by \u201ce\u201d in German ones. The AE and OE digraphs have been\r\ntranscribed as two letters. The British pound (currency) sign has been replaced\r\nby a capital L. Greek words have been transliterated.\r\n\r\nFootnotes: The original book has an average of 30 footnotes\r\nper page. These were of three types:\r\n(A) Glosses or explanations of obsolete words and phrases.\r\nThese have been treated as follows:\r\n1. In the poems, they have been moved up into the right-hand\r\nmargin. Some of them have been shortened or paraphrased in\r\norder to fit.\r\nExplanations of single words have a single asterisk at the\r\nend of the word and at the beginning of the explanation*.     *like this\r\nIf two words in the same line have explanations\r\nthe first* has one and the second**, two.          *like this **and this\r\nExplanations of phrases have an asterisk at the\r\nstart and end *of the phrase* and of the explanation         *like this*\r\nSometimes these glosses wrap onto the next line, still in the\r\nright margin. If you read this e-text using a monospaced font\r\n(like Courier in a word processor such as MS Word, or the\r\ndefault font in most text editors) then the marginal notes are\r\nright-justified.\r\n2. In the prose tales,  they have been imbedded into the text in\r\nsquare brackets after the word or phrase they refer to [like this].\r\n(B) Etymological explanations of these words.  These are\r\nindicted by a number in angle brackets in the marginal\r\ngloss.* The note will be found at the                     *like this <1>\r\nend of the poem or section.\r\n(C) Longer notes commenting on or explaining the text. These\r\nare indicated in the text by numbers in angle brackets thus: <1>.\r\nThe note will be found at the end of the poem or section.\r\n\r\nLatin: Despite his declared aim of editing the tales \u201cfor popular perusal\u201d,\r\nPurves has left nearly all Latin quotations untranslated.  I have translated\r\nthem as well as I could \u2014 any errors are my fault, not his.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nPREFACE.\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE object of this volume is to place before the general reader\r\nour two early poetic masterpieces \u2014 The Canterbury Tales and\r\nThe Faerie Queen; to do so in a way that will render their\r\n\u201cpopular perusal\u201d easy in a time of little leisure and unbounded\r\ntemptations to intellectual languor; and, on the same conditions,\r\nto present a liberal and fairly representative selection from the\r\nless important and familiar poems of Chaucer and Spenser.\r\nThere is, it may be said at the outset, peculiar advantage and\r\npropriety in placing the two poets side by side in the manner\r\nnow attempted for the first time.  Although two centuries divide\r\nthem, yet Spenser is the direct and really the immediate\r\nsuccessor to the poetical inheritance of Chaucer.  Those two\r\nhundred years, eventful as they were, produced no poet at all\r\nworthy to take up the mantle that fell from Chaucer\u2019s shoulders;\r\nand Spenser does not need his affected archaisms, nor his\r\nfrequent and reverent appeals to \u201cDan Geffrey,\u201d to vindicate for\r\nhimself a place very close to his great predecessor in the literary\r\nhistory of England. If Chaucer is the \u201cWell of English\r\nundefiled,\u201d Spenser is the broad and stately river that yet holds\r\nthe tenure of its very life from the fountain far away in other\r\nand ruder scenes.\r\n\r\nThe Canterbury Tales, so far as they are in verse, have been\r\nprinted without any abridgement or designed change in the\r\nsense.  But the two Tales in prose \u2014 Chaucer\u2019s Tale of\r\nMelib\u0153us, and the Parson\u2019s long Sermon on Penitence \u2014 have\r\nbeen contracted, so as to exclude thirty pages of unattractive\r\nprose, and to admit the same amount of interesting and\r\ncharacteristic poetry.  The gaps thus made in the prose Tales,\r\nhowever, are supplied by careful outlines of the omitted matter,\r\nso that the reader need be at no loss to comprehend the whole\r\nscope and sequence of the original.  With The Faerie Queen a\r\nbolder course has been pursued. The great obstacle to the\r\npopularity of Spencer\u2019s splendid work has lain less in its\r\nlanguage than in its length.  If we add together the three great\r\npoems of antiquity \u2014 the twenty-four books of the Iliad, the\r\ntwenty-four books of the Odyssey, and the twelve books of the\r\nAeneid \u2014 we get at the dimensions of only one-half of The\r\nFaerie Queen.  The six books, and the fragment of a seventh,\r\nwhich alone exist of the author\u2019s contemplated twelve, number\r\nabout 35,000 verses; the sixty books of Homer and Virgil\r\nnumber no more than 37,000. The mere bulk of the poem, then,\r\nhas opposed a formidable barrier to its popularity; to say\r\nnothing of the distracting effect produced by the numberless\r\nepisodes, the tedious narrations, and the constant repetitions,\r\nwhich have largely swelled that bulk.  In this volume the poem\r\nis compressed into two-thirds of its original space, through the\r\nexpedient of representing the less interesting and more\r\nmechanical passages by a condensed prose outline, in which it\r\nhas been sought as far as possible to preserve the very words of\r\nthe poet.  While deprecating a too critical judgement on the\r\nbare and constrained precis standing in such trying\r\njuxtaposition, it is hoped that the labour bestowed in saving the\r\nreader the trouble of wading through much that is not essential\r\nfor the enjoyment of Spencer\u2019s marvellous allegory, will not be\r\nunappreciated.\r\n\r\nAs regards the manner in which the text of the two great works,\r\nespecially of The Canterbury Tales, is presented, the Editor is\r\naware that some whose judgement is weighty will differ from\r\nhim.  This volume has been prepared \u201cfor popular perusal;\u201d and\r\nits very _raison d\u2019\u00eatre_ would have failed, if the ancient\r\northography had been retained.  It has often been affirmed by\r\neditors of Chaucer in the old forms of the language, that a little\r\ntrouble at first would render the antiquated spelling and\r\nobsolete inflections a continual source, not of difficulty, but of\r\nactual delight, for the reader coming to the study of Chaucer\r\nwithout any preliminary acquaintance with the English of his\r\nday \u2014 or of his copyists\u2019 days.  Despite this complacent\r\nassurance, the obvious fact is, that Chaucer in the old forms has\r\nnot become popular, in the true sense of the word; he is not\r\n\u201cunderstanded of the vulgar.\u201d  In this volume, therefore, the text\r\nof Chaucer has been presented in nineteenth-century garb.  But\r\nthere has been not the slightest attempt to \u201cmodernise\u201d\r\nChaucer, in the wider meaning of the phrase; to replace his\r\nwords by words which he did not use; or, following the example\r\nof some operators, to translate him into English of the modern\r\nspirit as well as the modern forms.  So far from that, in every\r\ncase where the old spelling or form seemed essential to metre,\r\nto rhyme, or meaning, no change has been attempted.  But,\r\nwherever its preservation was not essential, the spelling of the\r\nmonkish transcribers \u2014 for the most ardent purist must now\r\ndespair of getting at the spelling of Chaucer himself \u2014 has been\r\ndiscarded for that of the reader\u2019s own day.  It is a poor\r\ncompliment to the Father of English Poetry, to say that by such\r\ntreatment the bouquet and individuality of his works must be\r\nlost.  If his masterpiece is valuable for one thing more than any\r\nother, it is the vivid distinctness with which English men and\r\nwomen of the fourteenth century are there painted, for the study\r\nof all the centuries to follow.  But we wantonly balk the artist\u2019s\r\nown purpose, and discredit his labour, when we keep before his\r\npicture the screen of dust and cobwebs which, for the English\r\npeople in these days, the crude forms of the infant language\r\nhave practically become.  Shakespeare has not suffered by\r\nsimilar changes; Spencer has not suffered; it would be surprising\r\nif Chaucer should suffer, when the loss of popular\r\ncomprehension and favour in his case are necessarily all the\r\ngreater for his remoteness from our day.  In a much smaller\r\ndegree \u2014 since previous labours in the same direction had left\r\nfar less to do \u2014 the same work has been performed for the\r\nspelling of Spenser; and the whole endeavour in this department\r\nof the Editor\u2019s task has been, to present a text plain and easily\r\nintelligible to the modern reader, without any injustice to the old\r\npoet.  It would be presumptuous to believe that in every case\r\nboth ends have been achieved together; but the laudatores\r\ntemporis acti - the students who may differ most from the plan\r\npursued in this volume \u2014 will best appreciate the difficulty of\r\nthe enterprise, and most leniently regard any failure in the\r\ndetails of its accomplishment.\r\n\r\nWith all the works of Chaucer, outside The Canterbury Tales, it\r\nwould have been absolutely impossible to deal within the scope\r\nof this volume.  But nearly one hundred pages, have been\r\ndevoted to his minor poems; and, by dint of careful selection\r\nand judicious abridgement \u2014 a connecting outline of the story in\r\nall such cases being given \u2014 the Editor ventures to hope that he\r\nhas presented fair and acceptable specimens of Chaucer\u2019s\r\nworkmanship in all styles.  The preparation of this part of the\r\nvolume has been a laborious task; no similar attempt on the\r\nsame scale has been made; and, while here also the truth of the\r\ntext in matters essential has been in nowise sacrificed to mere\r\nease of perusal, the general reader will find opened up for him a\r\nnew view of Chaucer and his works.  Before a perusal of these\r\nhundred pages, will melt away for ever the lingering tradition or\r\nprejudice that Chaucer was only, or characteristically, a coarse\r\nbuffoon, who pandered to a base and licentious appetite by\r\npainting and exaggerating the lowest vices of his time.  In these\r\nselections \u2014 made without a thought of taking only what is to\r\nthe poet\u2019s credit from a wide range of poems in which hardly a\r\nword is to his discredit \u2014 we behold Chaucer as he was; a\r\ncourtier, a gallant, pure-hearted gentleman, a scholar, a\r\nphilosopher, a poet of gay and vivid fancy, playing around\r\nthemes of chivalric convention, of deep human interest, or\r\nbroad-sighted satire.  In The Canterbury Tales, we see, not\r\nChaucer, but Chaucer\u2019s times and neighbours; the artist has lost\r\nhimself in his work. To show him honestly and without disguise,\r\nas he lived his own life and sung his own songs at the brilliant\r\nCourt of Edward III, is to do his memory a moral justice far\r\nmore material than any wrong that can ever come out of\r\nspelling.  As to the minor poems of Spenser, which follow The\r\nFaerie Queen, the choice has been governed by the desire to\r\ngive at once the most interesting, and the most characteristic of\r\nthe poet\u2019s several styles; and, save in the case of the Sonnets,\r\nthe poems so selected are given entire. It is manifest that the\r\nendeavours to adapt this volume for popular use, have been\r\nalready noticed, would imperfectly succeed without the aid of\r\nnotes and glossary, to explain allusions that have become\r\nobsolete, or antiquated words which it was necessary to retain.\r\nAn endeavour has been made to render each page self-\r\nexplanatory, by placing on it all the glossarial and illustrative\r\nnotes required for its elucidation, or \u2014 to avoid repetitions that\r\nwould have occupied space \u2014 the references to the spot where\r\ninformation may be found.  The great advantage of such a plan\r\nto the reader, is the measure of its difficulty for the editor.  It\r\npermits much more flexibility in the choice of glossarial\r\nexplanations or equivalents; it saves the distracting and time-\r\nconsuming reference to the end or the beginning of the book;\r\nbut, at the same time, it largely enhances the liability to error.\r\nThe Editor is conscious that in the 12,000 or 13,000 notes, as\r\nwell as in the innumerable minute points of spelling,\r\naccentuation, and rhythm, he must now and again be found\r\ntripping; he can only ask any reader who may detect all that he\r\ncould himself point out as being amiss, to set off against\r\ninevitable mistakes and misjudgements, the conscientious labour\r\nbestowed on the book, and the broad consideration of its fitness\r\nfor the object contemplated.\r\n\r\n From books the Editor has derived valuable help; as from Mr\r\nCowden Clarke\u2019s revised modern text of The Canterbury Tales,\r\npublished in Mr Nimmo\u2019s Library Edition of the English Poets;\r\nfrom Mr Wright\u2019s scholarly edition of the same work; from the\r\nindispensable Tyrwhitt; from Mr Bell\u2019s edition of Chaucer\u2019s\r\nPoem; from Professor Craik\u2019s \u201cSpenser and his Poetry,\u201d\r\npublished twenty-five years ago by Charles Knight; and from\r\nmany others. In the abridgement of the Faerie Queen,  the plan\r\nmay at first sight seem to be modelled on the lines of Mr Craik\u2019s\r\npainstaking condensation; but the coincidences are either\r\ninevitable or involuntary.  Many of the notes, especially of those\r\nexplaining classical references and those attached to the minor\r\npoems of Chaucer, have been prepared specially for this edition.\r\nThe Editor leaves his task with the hope that his attempt to\r\nremove artificial obstacles to the popularity of  England\u2019s\r\nearliest poets, will not altogether miscarry.\r\n\r\nD. LAING PURVES.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nLIFE OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER.\r\n\r\n\r\nNOT in point of genius only, but even in point of time, Chaucer\r\nmay claim the proud designation of \u201cfirst\u201d English poet. He\r\nwrote \u201cThe Court of Love\u201d in 1345, and \u201cThe Romaunt of the\r\nRose,\u201d if not also \u201cTroilus and Cressida,\u201d probably within the\r\nnext decade: the dates usually assigned to the poems of\r\nLaurence Minot extend from 1335 to 1355, while \u201cThe Vision\r\nof Piers Plowman\u201d mentions events that occurred in 1360 and\r\n1362 \u2014 before which date Chaucer had certainly written \u201cThe\r\nAssembly of Fowls\u201d and his \u201cDream.\u201d But, though they were\r\nhis contemporaries, neither Minot nor Langland (if Langland\r\nwas the author of the Vision) at all approached Chaucer in the\r\nfinish, the force, or the universal interest of their works and the\r\npoems of earlier writer; as Layamon and the author of the\r\n\u201cOrmulum,\u201d are less English than Anglo-Saxon or Anglo-\r\nNorman. Those poems reflected the perplexed struggle for\r\nsupremacy between the two grand elements of our language,\r\nwhich marked the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; a struggle\r\nintimately associated with the political relations between the\r\nconquering Normans and the subjugated Anglo-Saxons.\r\nChaucer found two branches of the language; that spoken by\r\nthe people, Teutonic in its genius and its forms; that spoken by\r\nthe learned and the noble, based on the French  Yet each branch\r\nhad begun to borrow of the other \u2014 just as nobles and people\r\nhad been taught to recognise that each needed the other in the\r\nwars and the social tasks of the time; and Chaucer, a scholar, a\r\ncourtier, a man conversant with all orders of society, but\r\naccustomed to speak, think, and write in the words of the\r\nhighest, by his comprehensive genius cast into the simmering\r\nmould a magical amalgamant which made the two half-hostile\r\nelements unite and interpenetrate each other. Before Chaucer\r\nwrote, there were two tongues in England, keeping alive the\r\nfeuds and resentments of cruel centuries; when he laid down his\r\npen, there was practically but one speech \u2014 there was, and ever\r\nsince has been, but one people.\r\n\r\nGeoffrey Chaucer, according to the most trustworthy traditions-\r\nfor authentic testimonies on the subject are wanting \u2014 was born\r\nin 1328; and London is generally believed to have been his\r\nbirth-place. It is true that Leland, the biographer of England\u2019s\r\nfirst great poet who lived nearest to his time, not merely speaks\r\nof Chaucer as having been  born many years later than the date\r\nnow assigned, but mentions Berkshire or Oxfordshire as the\r\nscene of his birth. So great uncertainty have some felt on the\r\nlatter score, that elaborate parallels have been drawn between\r\nChaucer, and Homer \u2014 for whose birthplace several cities\r\ncontended, and whose descent was traced to the demigods.\r\nLeland may seem to have had fair opportunities of getting at the\r\ntruth about Chaucer\u2019s birth \u2014 for Henry VIII had him, at the\r\nsuppression of the monasteries throughout England, to search\r\nfor records of public interest the archives of the religious\r\nhouses. But it may be questioned whether he was likely to find\r\nmany authentic particulars regarding the personal history of the\r\npoet in the quarters which he explored; and Leland\u2019s testimony\r\nseems to be set aside by Chaucer\u2019s own evidence as to his\r\nbirthplace, and by the contemporary references which make him\r\nout an aged man for years preceding the accepted date of his\r\ndeath. In one of his prose works, \u201cThe Testament of Love,\u201d the\r\npoet speaks of himself in terms that strongly confirm the claim\r\nof London to the honour of giving him birth; for he there\r\nmentions \u201cthe city of London, that is to me so dear and sweet,\r\nin which I was forth growen; and more kindly love,\u201d says he,\r\n\u201chave I to that place than to any other in earth; as every kindly\r\ncreature hath full appetite to that place of his kindly engendrure,\r\nand to will rest and peace in that place to abide.\u201d This tolerably\r\ndirect evidence is supported \u2014 so far as it can be at such an\r\ninterval of time \u2014 by the learned Camden; in his Annals of\r\nQueen Elizabeth, he describes Spencer, who was certainly born\r\nin London, as being a fellow-citizen of Chaucer\u2019s \u2014 \u201cEdmundus\r\nSpenserus, patria Londinensis, Musis adeo arridentibus natus, ut\r\nomnes Anglicos superioris aevi poetas, ne Chaucero quidem\r\nconcive excepto, superaret.\u201d <1> The records of the time notice\r\nmore than one person of the name of Chaucer, who held\r\nhonourable positions about the Court; and though we cannot\r\ndistinctly trace the poet\u2019s relationship with any of these\r\nnamesakes or antecessors, we find excellent ground for belief\r\nthat his family or friends stood well at Court, in the ease with\r\nwhich Chaucer made his way there, and in his subsequent\r\ncareer.\r\n\r\nLike his great successor, Spencer, it was the fortune of Chaucer\r\nto live under a splendid, chivalrous, and high-spirited reign.\r\n1328 was the second year of Edward III; and, what with Scotch\r\nwars, French expeditions, and the strenuous and costly struggle\r\nto hold England in a worthy place among the States of Europe,\r\nthere was sufficient bustle, bold achievement, and high ambition\r\nin the period to inspire a poet who was prepared to catch the\r\nspirit of the day. It was an age of elaborate courtesy, of high-\r\npaced gallantry, of courageous venture, of noble disdain for\r\nmean tranquillity; and Chaucer, on the whole a man of peaceful\r\navocations, was penetrated to the depth of his consciousness\r\nwith the lofty and lovely civil side of that brilliant and restless\r\nmilitary period. No record of his youthful years, however,\r\nremains to us; if we believe that at the age of eighteen he was a\r\nstudent of Cambridge, it is only on the strength of a reference in\r\nhis \u201cCourt of Love\u201d, where the narrator is made to say that his\r\nname is Philogenet, \u201cof Cambridge clerk;\u201d while he had  already\r\ntold us that when he was stirred to seek the Court of Cupid he\r\nwas \u201cat eighteen year of age.\u201d According to Leland, however,\r\nhe was educated at Oxford, proceeding thence to France and\r\nthe Netherlands, to finish his studies; but there remains no\r\ncertain evidence of his having belonged to either University. At\r\nthe same time, it is not doubted that his family was of good\r\ncondition; and, whether or not we accept the assertion that his\r\nfather held the rank of knighthood \u2014 rejecting the hypotheses\r\nthat make him a merchant, or a vintner \u201cat the corner of Kirton\r\nLane\u201d \u2014 it is plain, from Chaucer\u2019s whole career, that he had\r\nintroductions to public life, and recommendations to courtly\r\nfavour, wholly independent of his genius. We have the clearest\r\ntestimony that his mental training was of wide range and\r\nthorough excellence, altogether rare for a mere courtier in those\r\ndays: his poems attest his intimate acquaintance with the\r\ndivinity, the philosophy, and the scholarship of his time, and\r\nshow him to have had the sciences, as then developed and\r\ntaught, \u201cat his fingers\u2019 ends.\u201d Another proof of Chaucer\u2019s good\r\nbirth and fortune would he found in the statement that, after his\r\nUniversity career was completed, he entered the Inner Temple -\r\n- the expenses of which could be borne only by men of noble\r\nand opulent families; but although there is a story that he was\r\nonce fined two shillings for thrashing a Franciscan friar in Fleet\r\nStreet, we have no direct authority for believing that the poet\r\ndevoted himself to the uncongenial study of the law. No special\r\ndisplay of knowledge on that subject appears in his works; yet\r\nin the sketch of the Manciple, in the Prologue to the Canterbury\r\nTales, may be found indications of his familiarity with the\r\ninternal economy of the Inns of Court; while numerous legal\r\nphrases and references hint that his comprehensive information\r\nwas not at fault on legal matters. Leland says that he quitted the\r\nUniversity \u201ca ready logician, a smooth rhetorician, a pleasant\r\npoet, a grave philosopher, an ingenious mathematician, and a\r\nholy divine;\u201d and by all accounts, when Geoffrey Chaucer\r\ncomes before us authentically for the first time, at the age of\r\nthirty-one, he was possessed of knowledge and\r\naccomplishments far beyond the common standard of his day.\r\n\r\nChaucer at this period possessed also other qualities fitted to\r\nrecommend him to favour in a Court like that of Edward III.\r\nUrry describes him, on the authority of a portrait, as being then\r\n\u201cof a fair beautiful complexion, his lips red and full, his size of a\r\njust medium, and his port and air graceful and majestic. So,\u201d\r\ncontinues the ardent biographer, \u2014 \u201cso that every ornament that\r\ncould claim the approbation of the great and fair, his abilities to\r\nrecord the valour of the one, and celebrate the beauty of the\r\nother, and his wit and gentle behaviour to converse with both,\r\nconspired to make him a complete courtier.\u201d  If we believe that\r\nhis \u201cCourt of Love\u201d had received such publicity as the literary\r\nmedia of the time allowed in the somewhat narrow and select\r\nliterary world \u2014 not to speak of \u201cTroilus and Cressida,\u201d which,\r\nas Lydgate mentions it first among Chaucer\u2019s works, some have\r\nsupposed to be a youthful production \u2014 we find a third and not\r\nless powerful recommendation to the favour of the great co-\r\noperating with his learning and his gallant bearing. Elsewhere\r\n<2> reasons have been shown for doubt whether \u201cTroilus and\r\nCressida\u201d should not be assigned to a later period of Chaucer\u2019s\r\nlife; but very little is positively known about the dates and\r\nsequence of his various works. In the year 1386, being called as\r\nwitness with regard to a contest on a point of heraldry between\r\nLord Scrope and Sir Robert Grosvenor, Chaucer deposed that\r\nhe entered on his military career in 1359. In that year Edward\r\nIII invaded France, for the third time, in pursuit of his claim to\r\nthe French crown; and we may fancy that, in describing the\r\nembarkation of the knights in \u201cChaucer\u2019s Dream\u201d, the poet\r\ngained some of the vividness and stir of his picture from his\r\nrecollections of the embarkation of the splendid and well-\r\nappointed royal host at Sandwich, on board the eleven hundred\r\ntransports provided for the enterprise. In this expedition the\r\nlaurels of Poitiers were flung on the ground; after vainly\r\nattempting Rheims and Paris, Edward was constrained, by cruel\r\nweather and lack of provisions, to retreat toward his ships; the\r\nfury of the elements made the retreat more disastrous than an\r\noverthrow in pitched battle; horses and men perished by\r\nthousands, or fell into the hands of the pursuing French.\r\nChaucer, who had been made prisoner at the siege of Retters,\r\nwas among the captives in the possession of France when the\r\ntreaty of Bretigny \u2014 the \u201cgreat peace\u201d \u2014 was concluded, in\r\nMay, 1360. Returning to England, as we may suppose, at the\r\npeace, the poet, ere long, fell into another and a pleasanter\r\ncaptivity; for his marriage is generally believed to have taken\r\nplace shortly after his release from foreign durance.  He had\r\nalready gained the personal friendship and favour of John of\r\nGaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the King\u2019s son; the Duke, while Earl\r\nof Richmond, had courted, and won to wife after a certain\r\ndelay, Blanche, daughter and co-heiress of Henry Duke of\r\nLancaster; and Chaucer is by some believed to have written\r\n\u201cThe Assembly of Fowls\u201d to celebrate the wooing, as he wrote\r\n\u201cChaucer\u2019s Dream\u201d to celebrate the wedding, of his patron. The\r\nmarriage took place in 1359, the year of Chaucer\u2019s expedition to\r\nFrance; and as, in \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls,\u201d the formel or\r\nfemale eagle, who is supposed to represent the Lady Blanche,\r\nbegs that her choice of a mate may be deferred for a year, 1358\r\nand 1359 have been assigned as the respective dates of the two\r\npoems already mentioned.  In the \u201cDream,\u201d Chaucer\r\nprominently introduces his own lady-love, to whom, after the\r\nhappy union of his patron with the Lady Blanche, he is wedded\r\namid great rejoicing; and various expressions in the same poem\r\nshow that not only was the poet high in favour with the\r\nillustrious pair, but that his future wife had also peculiar claims\r\non their regard.  She was the younger daughter of Sir Payne\r\nRoet, a native of Hainault, who had, like many of his\r\ncountrymen, been attracted to England by the example and\r\npatronage of Queen Philippa. The favourite attendant on the\r\nLady Blanche was her elder sister Katherine: subsequently\r\nmarried to Sir Hugh Swynford, a gentleman of Lincolnshire;\r\nand destined, after the death of Blanche, to be in succession\r\ngoverness of her children, mistress of John of Gaunt, and\r\nlawfully-wedded Duchess of Lancaster. It is quite sufficient\r\nproof that Chaucer\u2019s position at Court was of no mean\r\nconsequence, to find that his wife, the sister of the future\r\nDuchess of Lancaster, was one of the royal maids of honour,\r\nand even, as Sir Harris Nicolas conjectures, a god-daughter of\r\nthe Queen \u2014 for her name also was Philippa.\r\n\r\nBetween 1359, when the poet himself testifies that he was made\r\nprisoner while bearing arms in France, and September 1366,\r\nwhen Queen Philippa granted to her former maid of honour, by\r\nthe name of Philippa Chaucer, a yearly pension of ten marks, or\r\nL6, 13s. 4d., we have no authentic mention of Chaucer, express\r\nor indirect. It is plain from this grant that the poet\u2019s marriage\r\nwith Sir Payne Roet\u2019s daughter was not celebrated later than\r\n1366; the probability is, that it closely followed his return from\r\nthe wars. In 1367, Edward III. settled upon Chaucer a life-\r\npension of twenty marks, \u201cfor the good service which our\r\nbeloved Valet \u2014 \u2018dilectus Valettus noster\u2019 \u2014 Geoffrey Chaucer\r\nhas rendered, and will render in time to come.\u201d Camden\r\nexplains \u2018Valettus hospitii\u2019 to signify a Gentleman of the Privy\r\nChamber; Selden says that the designation was bestowed \u201cupon\r\nyoung heirs designed to he knighted, or young gentlemen of\r\ngreat descent and quality.\u201d Whatever the strict meaning of the\r\nword, it is plain that the poet\u2019s position was honourable and\r\nnear to the King\u2019s person, and also that his worldly\r\ncircumstances were easy, if not affluent \u2014 for it need not be said\r\nthat twenty marks in those days represented twelve or twenty\r\ntimes the sum in these.  It is believed that he found powerful\r\npatronage, not merely from the Duke of Lancaster and his wife,\r\nbut from Margaret Countess of Pembroke, the King\u2019s daughter.\r\nTo her Chaucer is supposed to have addressed the \u201cGoodly\r\nBallad\u201d, in which the lady is celebrated under the image of the\r\ndaisy; her he is by some understood to have represented under\r\nthe title of Queen Alcestis, in the \u201cCourt of Love\u201d and the\r\nPrologue to \u201cThe Legend of Good Women;\u201d and in her praise\r\nwe may read his charming descriptions and eulogies of the daisy\r\n\u2014 French, \u201cMarguerite,\u201d the name of his Royal patroness. To\r\nthis period of Chaucer\u2019s career we may probably attribute the\r\nelegant and courtly, if somewhat conventional, poems of \u201cThe\r\nFlower and the Leaf,\u201d \u201cThe Cuckoo and the Nightingale,\u201d &c.\r\n\u201cThe Lady Margaret,\u201d says Urry, \u201c. . . would frequently\r\ncompliment him upon his poems. But this is not to be meant of\r\nhis Canterbury Tales, they being written in the latter part of his\r\nlife, when the courtier and the fine gentleman gave way to solid\r\nsense and plain descriptions. In his love-pieces he was obliged\r\nto have the strictest regard to modesty and decency; the ladies\r\nat that time insisting so much upon the nicest punctilios of\r\nhonour, that it was highly criminal to depreciate their sex, or do\r\nanything that might offend virtue.\u201d Chaucer, in their estimation,\r\nhad sinned against the dignity and honour of womankind by his\r\ntranslation of the French \u201cRoman de la Rose,\u201d and by his\r\n\u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d \u2014 assuming it to have been among his\r\nless mature works; and to atone for those offences the Lady\r\nMargaret (though other and older accounts say that it was the\r\nfirst Queen of Richard II., Anne of Bohemia), prescribed to him\r\nthe task of writing \u201cThe Legend of Good Women\u201d (see\r\nintroductory note to that poem). About this period, too, we\r\nmay place the composition of Chaucer\u2019s A. B. C., or The Prayer\r\nof Our Lady, made at the request of the Duchess Blanche, a\r\nlady of great devoutness in her private life. She died in 1369;\r\nand Chaucer, as he had allegorised her wooing, celebrated her\r\nmarriage, and aided her devotions, now lamented her death, in a\r\npoem entitled \u201cThe Book of the Duchess; or, the Death of\r\nBlanche.<3>\r\n\r\nIn 1370, Chaucer was employed on the King\u2019s service abroad;\r\nand in November 1372, by the title of \u201cScutifer noster\u201d \u2014 our\r\nEsquire or Shield-bearer \u2014 he was associated with \u201cJacobus\r\nPronan,\u201d and \u201cJohannes de Mari civis Januensis,\u201d in a royal\r\ncommission, bestowing full powers to treat with the Duke of\r\nGenoa, his Council, and State.  The object of the embassy was\r\nto negotiate upon the choice of an English port at which the\r\nGenoese might form a commercial establishment; and Chaucer,\r\nhaving quitted England in December, visited Genoa and\r\nFlorence, and returned to England before the end of November\r\n1373 \u2014 for on that day he drew his pension from the Exchequer\r\nin person. The most interesting point connected with this Italian\r\nmission is the question, whether Chaucer visited Petrarch at\r\nPadua. That he did, is unhesitatingly affirmed by the old\r\nbiographers; but the authentic notices of Chaucer during the\r\nyears 1372-1373, as shown by the researches of Sir Harris\r\nNicolas, are confined to the facts already stated; and we are left\r\nto answer the question by the probabilities of the case, and by\r\nthe aid of what faint light the poet himself affords. We can\r\nscarcely fancy that Chaucer, visiting Italy for the first time, in a\r\ncapacity which opened for him easy access to the great and the\r\nfamous, did not embrace the chance of meeting a poet whose\r\nworks he evidently knew in their native tongue, and highly\r\nesteemed.  With Mr Wright, we are strongly disinclined to\r\nbelieve \u201cthat Chaucer did not profit by the opportunity . . . of\r\nimproving his acquaintance with the poetry, if not the poets, of\r\nthe country he thus visited, whose influence was now being felt\r\non the literature of most countries of Western Europe.\u201d That\r\nChaucer was familiar with the Italian language appears not\r\nmerely from his repeated selection as Envoy to Italian States,\r\nbut by many passages in his poetry, from \u201cThe Assembly of\r\nFowls\u201d to \u201cThe Canterbury Tales.\u201d In the opening of the first\r\npoem  there is a striking parallel to Dante\u2019s inscription on the\r\ngate of Hell.  The first Song of Troilus, in \u201cTroilus and\r\nCressida\u201d, is a nearly literal translation of Petrarch\u2019s 88th\r\nSonnet. In the Prologue to \u201cThe Legend of Good Women\u201d,\r\nthere is a reference to Dante which can hardly have reached the\r\npoet at second- hand. And in Chaucer\u2019s great work \u2014 as in The\r\nWife of Bath\u2019s Tale, and The Monk\u2019s Tale  \u2014 direct reference by\r\nname is made to Dante, \u201cthe wise poet of Florence,\u201d \u201cthe great\r\npoet of Italy,\u201d as the source whence the author has quoted.\r\nWhen we consider the poet\u2019s high place in literature and at\r\nCourt, which could not fail to make him free of the hospitalities\r\nof the brilliant little Lombard States; his familiarity with the\r\ntongue and the works of Italy\u2019s greatest bards, dead and living;\r\nthe reverential regard which he paid to the memory of great\r\npoets, of which we have examples in \u201cThe House of Fame,\u201d and\r\nat the close of \u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d <4>; along with his own\r\ntestimony in the Prologue to The Clerk\u2019s Tale, we cannot fail to\r\nconstrue that testimony as a declaration that the Tale was\r\nactually told to Chaucer by the lips of Petrarch, in 1373, the\r\nvery year in which Petrarch translated it into Latin, from\r\nBoccaccio\u2019s \u201cDecameron.\u201d<5>   Mr Bell notes the objection to\r\nthis interpretation, that the words are put into the mouth, not of\r\nthe poet, but of the Clerk; and meets it by the counter-\r\nobjection, that the Clerk, being a purely imaginary personage,\r\ncould not have learned the story at Padua from Petrarch \u2014 and\r\ntherefore that Chaucer must have departed from the dramatic\r\nassumption maintained in the rest of the dialogue. Instances\r\ncould be adduced from Chaucer\u2019s writings to show that such a\r\nsudden \u201cdeparture from the dramatic assumption\u201d would not be\r\nunexampled: witness the \u201caside\u201d in The Wife of Bath\u2019s\r\nPrologue, where, after the jolly Dame has asserted that \u201chalf so\r\nboldly there can no man swear and lie as a woman can\u201d, the\r\npoet hastens to interpose, in his own person, these two lines:\r\n\r\n\u201cI say not this by wives that be wise,\r\nBut if it be when they them misadvise.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nAnd again, in the Prologue to the \u201cLegend of Good Women,\u201d\r\nfrom a description of the daisy \u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cShe is the clearness and the very light,\r\nThat in this darke world me guides and leads,\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nthe poet, in the very next lines, slides into an address to his lady:\r\n\r\n\u201cThe heart within my sorrowful heart you dreads\r\nAnd loves so sore, that ye be, verily,\r\nThe mistress of my wit, and nothing I,\u201d &c.\r\n\r\n\r\nWhen, therefore, the Clerk of Oxford is made to say that he will\r\ntell a tale \u2014\r\n\r\n                          \u201cThe which that I\r\nLearn\u2019d at Padova of a worthy clerk,\r\nAs proved by his wordes and his werk.\r\nHe is now dead, and nailed in his chest,\r\nI pray to God to give his soul good rest.\r\nFrancis Petrarc\u2019, the laureate poete,\r\nHighte this clerk, whose rhetoric so sweet\r\nIllumin\u2019d all Itaile of poetry. . . .\r\nBut forth to tellen of this worthy man,\r\nThat taughte me this tale, as I began.\u201d . . .\r\n\r\n\r\nwe may without violent effort believe that Chaucer speaks in his\r\nown person, though dramatically the words are on the Clerk\u2019s\r\nlips.  And the belief is not impaired by the sorrowful way in\r\nwhich the Clerk lingers on Petrarch\u2019s death \u2014 which would be\r\nless intelligible if the fictitious narrator had only read the story\r\nin the Latin translation, than if we suppose the news of\r\nPetrarch\u2019s death at Arqua in July 1374 to have closely followed\r\nChaucer to England, and to have cruelly and irresistibly mingled\r\nitself with our poet\u2019s personal recollections of his great Italian\r\ncontemporary.  Nor must we regard as without significance the\r\nmanner in which the Clerk is made to distinguish between the\r\n\u201cbody\u201d of Petrarch\u2019s tale, and the fashion in which it was set\r\nforth in writing, with a proem that seemed \u201ca thing\r\nimpertinent\u201d, save that the poet had chosen in that way to\r\n\u201cconvey his matter\u201d \u2014 told, or \u201ctaught,\u201d so much more directly\r\nand simply by word of mouth. It is impossible to pronounce\r\npositively on the subject; the question whether Chaucer saw\r\nPetrarch in 1373 must remain a moot-point, so long as we have\r\nonly our present information; but fancy loves to dwell on the\r\nthought of the two poets conversing under the vines at Arqua;\r\nand we find in the history and the writings of Chaucer nothing\r\nto contradict, a good deal to countenance, the belief that such a\r\nmeeting occurred.\r\n\r\nThough we have no express record, we have indirect testimony,\r\nthat Chaucer\u2019s Genoese mission was discharged satisfactorily;\r\nfor on the 23d of April 1374, Edward III grants at Windsor to\r\nthe poet, by the title of \u201cour beloved squire\u201d \u2014 dilecto Armigero\r\nnostro \u2014 unum pycher. vini, \u201cone pitcher of wine\u201d daily, to be\r\n\u201cperceived\u201d in the port of London; a grant which, on the\r\nanalogy of more modern usage, might he held equivalent to\r\nChaucer\u2019s appointment as Poet Laureate. When we find that\r\nsoon afterwards the grant was commuted for a money payment\r\nof twenty marks per annum, we need not conclude that\r\nChaucer\u2019s circumstances were poor; for it may be easily\r\nsupposed that the daily \u201cperception\u201d of such an article of\r\nincome was attended with considerable prosaic inconvenience.\r\nA permanent provision for Chaucer was made on the 8th of\r\nJune 1374, when he was appointed Controller of the Customs in\r\nthe Port of London, for the lucrative imports of wools, skins or\r\n\u201cwool-fells,\u201d and tanned hides \u2014 on condition that he should\r\nfulfil the duties of that office in person and not by deputy, and\r\nshould write out the accounts with his own hand.  We have\r\nwhat seems evidence of Chaucer\u2019s compliance with these terms\r\nin \u201cThe House of Fame\u201d, where, in the mouth of the eagle, the\r\npoet describes himself, when he has finished his labour and\r\nmade his reckonings, as not seeking rest and news in social\r\nintercourse, but going home to his own house, and there, \u201call so\r\ndumb as any stone,\u201d sitting \u201cat another book,\u201d until his look is\r\ndazed; and again, in the record that in 1376 he received a grant\r\nof L731, 4s. 6d., the amount of a fine levied on one John Kent,\r\nwhom Chaucer\u2019s vigilance had frustrated in the attempt to ship a\r\nquantity of wool for Dordrecht without paying the duty. The\r\nseemingly derogatory condition, that the Controller should\r\nwrite out the accounts or rolls (\u201crotulos\u201d) of his office with his\r\nown hand, appears to have been designed, or treated, as merely\r\nformal; no records in Chaucer\u2019s handwriting are known to exist\r\n\u2014 which could hardly be the case if, for the twelve years of his\r\nControllership (1374-1386), he had duly complied with the\r\ncondition; and during that period he was more than once\r\nemployed abroad, so that the condition was evidently regarded\r\nas a formality even by those who had imposed it.  Also in 1374,\r\nthe Duke of Lancaster, whose ambitious views may well have\r\nmade him anxious to retain the adhesion of a man so capable\r\nand accomplished as Chaucer, changed into a joint life-annuity\r\nremaining to the survivor, and charged on the revenues of the\r\nSavoy, a pension of L10 which two years before he settled on\r\nthe poet\u2019s wife \u2014 whose sister was then the governess of the\r\nDuke\u2019s two daughters, Philippa and Elizabeth, and the Duke\u2019s\r\nown mistress.  Another proof of Chaucer\u2019s personal reputation\r\nand high Court favour at this time, is his selection (1375) as\r\nward to the son of Sir Edmond Staplegate of Bilsynton, in Kent;\r\na charge on the surrender of which the guardian received no\r\nless a sum than L104.\r\n\r\nWe find Chaucer in 1376 again employed on a foreign mission.\r\nIn 1377, the last year of Edward III., he was sent to Flanders\r\nwith Sir Thomas Percy, afterwards Earl of Worcester, for the\r\npurpose of obtaining a prolongation of the truce; and in January\r\n13738, he was associated with Sir Guichard d\u2019Angle and other\r\nCommissioners, to pursue certain negotiations for a marriage\r\nbetween Princess Mary of France and the young King Richard\r\nII., which had been set on foot before the death of Edward III.\r\nThe negotiation, however, proved fruitless; and in May 1378,\r\nChaucer was selected to accompany Sir John Berkeley on a\r\nmission to the Court of Bernardo Visconti, Duke of Milan, with\r\nthe view, it is supposed, of concerting military plans against the\r\noutbreak of war with France.  The new King, meantime, had\r\nshown that he was not insensible to Chaucer\u2019s merit  \u2014 or to the\r\ninfluence of his tutor and the poet\u2019s patron, the Duke of\r\nLancaster; for Richard II. confirmed to Chaucer his pension of\r\ntwenty marks, along with an equal annual sum, for which the\r\ndaily pitcher of wine granted in 1374 had been commuted.\r\nBefore his departure for Lombardy, Chaucer \u2014 still holding his\r\npost in the Customs \u2014 selected two representatives or trustees,\r\nto protect his estate against legal proceedings in his absence, or\r\nto sue in his name defaulters and offenders against the imposts\r\nwhich he was charged to enforce. One of these trustees was\r\ncalled Richard Forrester; the other was John Gower, the poet,\r\nthe most famous English contemporary of Chaucer, with whom\r\nhe had for many years been on terms of admiring friendship \u2014\r\nalthough, from the strictures passed on certain productions of\r\nGower\u2019s in the Prologue to The Man of Law\u2019s Tale,<6> it has\r\nbeen supposed that in the later years of Chaucer\u2019s life the\r\nfriendship suffered some diminution. To the \u201cmoral Gower\u201d and\r\n\u201cthe philosophical Strode,\u201d Chaucer \u201cdirected\u201d or dedicated his\r\n\u201cTroilus and Cressida;\u201d <7> while, in the \u201cConfessio Amantis,\u201d\r\nGower introduces a handsome compliment to his greater\r\ncontemporary, as the \u201cdisciple and the poet\u201d of Venus, with\r\nwhose glad songs and ditties, made in her praise during the\r\nflowers of his youth, the land was filled everywhere.  Gower,\r\nhowever \u2014 a monk and a Conservative \u2014 held to the party of\r\nthe Duke of Gloucester, the rival of the Wycliffite and\r\ninnovating Duke of Lancaster, who was Chaucer\u2019s patron, and\r\nwhose cause was not a little aided by Chaucer\u2019s strictures on the\r\nclergy; and thus it is not impossible that political differences\r\nmay have weakened the old bonds of personal friendship and\r\npoetic esteem. Returning from Lombardy early in 1379,\r\nChaucer seems to have been again sent abroad; for the records\r\nexhibit no trace of him between May and December of that\r\nyear. Whether by proxy or in person, however, he received his\r\npensions regularly until 1382, when his income was increased\r\nby his appointment to the post of Controller of Petty Customs\r\nin the port of London.  In November 1384, he obtained a\r\nmonth\u2019s leave of absence on account of his private affairs, and a\r\ndeputy was appointed to fill his place; and in February of the\r\nnext year he was permitted to appoint a permanent deputy \u2014\r\nthus at length gaining relief from that close attention to business\r\nwhich probably curtailed the poetic fruits of the poet\u2019s most\r\npowerful years. <8>\r\n\r\nChaucer is next found occupying a post which has not often\r\nbeen held by men gifted with his peculiar genius \u2014 that of a\r\ncounty member. The contest between the Dukes of Gloucester\r\nand Lancaster, and their adherents, for the control of the\r\nGovernment, was coming to a crisis; and when the recluse and\r\nstudious Chaucer was induced to offer himself to the electors of\r\nKent as one of the knights of their shire \u2014 where presumably he\r\nheld property \u2014 we may suppose that it was with the view of\r\nsupporting his patron\u2019s cause in the impending conflict. The\r\nParliament in which the poet sat assembled at Westminster on\r\nthe 1st of October, and was dissolved on the 1st of November,\r\n1386. Lancaster was fighting and intriguing abroad, absorbed in\r\nthe affairs of his Castilian succession; Gloucester and his friends\r\nat home had everything their own way; the Earl of Suffolk was\r\ndismissed from the woolsack, and impeached by the Commons;\r\nand although Richard at first stood out courageously for the\r\nfriends of his uncle Lancaster, he was constrained, by the refusal\r\nof supplies, to consent to the proceedings of Gloucester. A\r\ncommission was wrung from him, under protest, appointing\r\nGloucester, Arundel, and twelve other Peers and prelates, a\r\npermanent council to inquire into the condition of all the public\r\ndepartments, the courts of law, and the royal household, with\r\nabsolute powers of redress and dismissal. We need not ascribe\r\nto Chaucer\u2019s Parliamentary exertions in his patron\u2019s behalf, nor\r\nto any malpractices in his official conduct, the fact that he was\r\namong the earliest victims of the commission.<9>  In December\r\n1386, he was dismissed from both his offices in the port of\r\nLondon; but he retained his pensions, and drew them regularly\r\ntwice a year at the Exchequer until 1388. In 1387, Chaucer\u2019s\r\npolitical reverses were aggravated by a severe domestic\r\ncalamity: his wife died, and with her died the pension which had\r\nbeen settled on her by Queen Philippa in 1366, and confirmed to\r\nher at Richard\u2019s accession in 1377.  The change made in\r\nChaucer\u2019s pecuniary position, by the loss of his offices and his\r\nwife\u2019s pension, must have been very great. It would appear that\r\nduring his prosperous times he had lived in a style quite equal to\r\nhis income, and had no ample resources against a season of\r\nreverse; for, on the 1st of May 1388, less than a year and a half\r\nafter being dismissed from the Customs, he was constrained to\r\nassign his pensions, by surrender in Chancery, to one John\r\nScalby.  In May 1389, Richard II., now of age, abruptly\r\nresumed the reins of government, which, for more than two\r\nyears, had been ably but cruelly managed by Gloucester. The\r\nfriends of Lancaster were once more supreme in the royal\r\ncouncils, and Chaucer speedily profited by the change. On the\r\n12th of July he was appointed Clerk of the King\u2019s Works at the\r\nPalace of Westminster, the Tower, the royal manors of\r\nKennington, Eltham, Clarendon, Sheen, Byfleet, Childern\r\nLangley, and Feckenham, the castle of Berkhamstead, the royal\r\nlodge of Hathenburgh in the New Forest, the lodges in the\r\nparks of Clarendon, Childern Langley, and Feckenham, and the\r\nmews for the King\u2019s falcons at Charing Cross; he received a\r\nsalary of two shillings per day, and was allowed to perform the\r\nduties by deputy. For some reason unknown, Chaucer held this\r\nlucrative office <10> little more than two years, quitting it\r\nbefore the 16th of September 1391, at which date it had passed\r\ninto the hands of one John Gedney. The next two years and a\r\nhalf are a blank, so far as authentic records are concerned;\r\nChaucer is supposed to have passed them in retirement,\r\nprobably devoting them principally to the composition of The\r\nCanterbury Tales. In February 1394, the King conferred upon\r\nhim a grant of L20 a year for life; but he seems to have had no\r\nother source of income, and to have become embarrassed by\r\ndebt, for frequent memoranda of small advances on his pension\r\nshow that his circumstances were, in comparison, greatly\r\nreduced.  Things appear to have grown worse and worse with\r\nthe poet; for in May 1398 he was compelled to obtain from the\r\nKing letters of protection against arrest, extending over a term\r\nof two years. Not for the first time, it is true \u2014 for similar\r\ndocuments had been issued at the beginning of Richard\u2019s reign;\r\nbut at that time Chaucer\u2019s missions abroad, and his responsible\r\nduties in the port of London, may have furnished reasons for\r\nsecuring him against annoyance or frivolous prosecution, which\r\nwere wholly wanting at the later date.  In 1398, fortune began\r\nagain to smile upon him; he received a royal grant of a tun of\r\nwine annually, the value being about L4. Next year, Richard II\r\nhaving been deposed by the son of John of Gaunt <11>  \u2014\r\nHenry of Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster \u2014 the new King, four\r\ndays after hits accession, bestowed on Chaucer a grant of forty\r\nmarks (L26, 13s. 4d.) per annum, in addition to the pension of\r\nL20 conferred by Richard II. in 1394.  But the poet, now\r\nseventy-one years of age, and probably broken down by the\r\nreverses of the past few years, was not destined long to enjoy\r\nhis renewed prosperity.  On Christmas Eve of 1399, he entered\r\non the possession of a house in the garden of the Chapel of the\r\nBlessed Mary of Westminster \u2014 near to the present site of\r\nHenry VII.\u2019s Chapel \u2014 having obtained a lease from Robert\r\nHermodesworth, a monk of the adjacent convent, for fifty-three\r\nyears, at the annual rent of four marks (L2, 13s. 4d.) Until the\r\n1st of March 1400, Chaucer drew his pensions in person; then\r\nthey were received for him by another hand; and on the 25th of\r\nOctober, in the same year, he died, at the age of seventy-two.\r\nThe only lights thrown by his poems on his closing days are\r\nfurnished in the little ballad called \u201cGood Counsel of Chaucer,\u201d\r\n\u2014 which, though said to have been written when \u201cupon his\r\ndeath-bed lying in his great anguish, \u201cbreathes the very spirit of\r\ncourage, resignation, and philosophic calm; and by the\r\n\u201cRetractation\u201d at the end of The Canterbury Tales, which, if it\r\nwas not foisted in by monkish transcribers, may be supposed the\r\neffect of Chaucer\u2019s regrets and self-reproaches on that solemn\r\nreview of his life-work which the close approach of death\r\ncompelled. The poet was buried in Westminster Abbey; <12>\r\nand not many years after his death a slab was  placed on a pillar\r\nnear his grave, bearing the lines, taken from an epitaph or\r\neulogy made by Stephanus Surigonus of Milan, at the request of\r\nCaxton:\r\n\r\n\u201cGalfridus Chaucer, vates, et fama poesis\r\nMaternae, hoc sacra sum tumulatus humo.\u201d <13>\r\n\r\n\r\nAbout 1555, Mr Nicholas Brigham, a gentleman of Oxford who\r\ngreatly admired the genius of Chaucer, erected the present\r\ntomb, as near to the spot where the poet lay, \u201cbefore the chapel\r\nof St Benet,\u201d as was then possible by reason of the \u201ccancelli,\u201d\r\n<14> which the Duke of Buckingham subsequently obtained\r\nleave to remove, that room might be made for the tomb of\r\nDryden.  On the structure of Mr Brigham, besides a full-length\r\nrepresentation of Chaucer, taken from a portrait drawn by his\r\n\u201cscholar\u201d Thomas Occleve, was \u2014 or is, though now almost\r\nillegible \u2014 the following inscription:\u2014\r\n\r\nM. S.\r\nQUI FUIT ANGLORUM VATES TER MAXIMUS OLIM,\r\nGALFRIDUS CHAUCER CONDITUR HOC TUMULO;\r\nANNUM SI QUAERAS DOMINI, SI TEMPORA VITAE,\r\nECCE NOTAE SUBSUNT, QUE TIBI CUNCTA NOTANT.\r\n25 OCTOBRIS 1400.\r\nAERUMNARUM REQUIES MORS.\r\nN. BRIGHAM HOS FECIT MUSARUM NOMINE SUMPTUS\r\n1556. <15>\r\n\r\n\r\nConcerning his personal appearance and habits, Chaucer has not\r\nbeen reticent in his poetry. Urry sums up the traits of his aspect\r\nand character fairly thus: \u201cHe was of a middle stature, the latter\r\npart of his life inclinable to be fat and corpulent, as appears by\r\nthe Host\u2019s bantering him in the journey to Canterbury, and\r\ncomparing shapes with him.<16>  His face was fleshy, his\r\nfeatures just and regular, his complexion fair, and somewhat\r\npale, his hair of a dusky yellow, short and thin; the hair of his\r\nbeard in two forked tufts, of a wheat colour; his forehead broad\r\nand smooth; his eyes inclining usually to the ground, which is\r\nintimated by the Host\u2019s words; his whole face full of liveliness, a\r\ncalm, easy sweetness, and a studious Venerable aspect. . . . As\r\nto his temper, he had a mixture of the gay, the modest, and the\r\ngrave. The sprightliness of his humour was more distinguished\r\nby his writings than by his appearance; which gave occasion to\r\nMargaret Countess of Pembroke often to rally him upon his\r\nsilent modesty in company, telling him, that his absence was\r\nmore agreeable to her than his conversation, since the first was\r\nproductive of agreeable pieces of wit in his writings, <17> but\r\nthe latter was filled with a modest deference, and a too distant\r\nrespect.  We see nothing merry or jocose in his behaviour with\r\nhis pilgrims, but a silent attention to their mirth, rather than any\r\nmixture of his own. . .  When disengaged from public affairs, his\r\ntime was entirely spent in study and reading; so agreeable to\r\nhim was this exercise, that he says he preferred it to all other\r\nsports and diversions.<18>  He lived within himself, neither\r\ndesirous to hear nor busy to concern himself with the affairs of\r\nhis neighbours. His course of living was temperate and regular;\r\nhe went to rest with the sun, and rose before it; and by that\r\nmeans enjoyed the pleasures of the better part of the day, his\r\nmorning walk and fresh contemplations.  This gave him the\r\nadvantage of describing the morning in so lively a manner as he\r\ndoes everywhere in his works. The springing sun glows warm in\r\nhis lines, and the fragrant air blows cool in his descriptions; we\r\nsmell the sweets of the bloomy haws, and hear the music of the\r\nfeathered choir, whenever we take a forest walk with him. The\r\nhour of the day is not easier to be discovered from the reflection\r\nof the sun in Titian\u2019s paintings, than in Chaucer\u2019s morning\r\nlandscapes. . . . His reading was deep and extensive, his\r\njudgement sound and discerning. . . In one word, he was a great\r\nscholar, a pleasant wit, a candid critic, a sociable companion, a\r\nsteadfast friend, a grave philosopher, a temperate economist,\r\nand a pious Christian.\u201d\r\n\r\nChaucer\u2019s most important poems are \u201cTroilus and Cressida,\u201d\r\n\u201cThe Romaunt of the Rose,\u201d and \u201cThe Canterbury Tales.\u201d  Of\r\nthe first, containing 8246 lines, an abridgement, with a prose\r\nconnecting outline of the story, is given in this volume. With the\r\nsecond, consisting of 7699 octosyllabic verses, like those in\r\nwhich \u201cThe House of Fame\u201d is written, it was found impossible\r\nto deal in the present edition. The poem is a curtailed translation\r\nfrom the French \u201cRoman de la Rose\u201d \u2014 commenced by\r\nGuillaume de Lorris, who died in 1260, after contributing 4070\r\nverses, and completed, in the last quarter of the thirteenth\r\ncentury, by Jean de Meun, who added some 18,000 verses. It is\r\na satirical allegory, in which the vices of courts, the corruptions\r\nof the clergy, the disorders and inequalities of society in general,\r\nare unsparingly attacked, and the most revolutionary doctrines\r\nare advanced; and though, in making his translation, Chaucer\r\nsoftened or eliminated much of the satire of the poem, still it\r\nremained, in his verse, a caustic exposure of the abuses of the\r\ntime, especially those which discredited the Church.\r\n\r\nThe Canterbury Tales are presented in this edition with as near\r\nan approach to completeness as regard for the popular character\r\nof the volume permitted. The 17,385 verses, of which the\r\npoetical Tales consist, have been given without abridgement or\r\npurgation \u2014 save in a single couplet; but, the main purpose of\r\nthe volume being to make the general reader acquainted with\r\nthe \u201cpoems\u201d of Chaucer and Spenser, the Editor has ventured to\r\ncontract the two prose Tales \u2014 Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Melib\u0153us,\r\nand the Parson\u2019s Sermon or Treatise on Penitence \u2014 so as to\r\nsave about thirty pages for the introduction of Chaucer\u2019s minor\r\npieces. At the same time, by giving prose outlines of the omitted\r\nparts, it has been sought to guard the reader against the fear\r\nthat he was losing anything essential, or even valuable. It is\r\nalmost needless to describe the plot, or point out the literary\r\nplace, of the Canterbury Tales. Perhaps in the entire range of\r\nancient and modern literature there is no work that so clearly\r\nand freshly paints for future times the picture of the past;\r\ncertainly no Englishman has ever approached Chaucer in the\r\npower of fixing for ever the fleeting traits of his own time.  The\r\nplan of the poem had been adopted before Chaucer chose it;\r\nnotably in the \u201cDecameron\u201d of Boccaccio \u2014 although, there, the\r\ncircumstances under which the tales were told, with the terror\r\nof the plague hanging over the merry company, lend a grim\r\ngrotesqueness to the narrative, unless we can look at it\r\nabstracted from its setting.  Chaucer, on the other hand, strikes\r\na perpetual key-note of gaiety whenever he mentions the word\r\n\u201cpilgrimage;\u201d and at every stage of the connecting story we\r\nbless the happy thought which gives us incessant incident,\r\nmovement, variety, and unclouded but never monotonous\r\njoyousness.\r\n\r\nThe poet, the evening before he starts on a pilgrimage to the\r\nshrine of St Thomas at Canterbury, lies at the Tabard Inn, in\r\nSouthwark, curious to know in what companionship he is\r\ndestined to fare forward on the morrow. Chance sends him\r\n\u201cnine and twenty in a company,\u201d representing all orders of\r\nEnglish society, lay and clerical, from the Knight and the Abbot\r\ndown to the Ploughman and the Sompnour. The jolly Host of\r\nthe Tabard, after supper, when tongues are loosened and hearts\r\nare opened, declares that \u201cnot this year\u201d has he seen such a\r\ncompany at once under his roof-tree, and proposes that, when\r\nthey set out next morning, he should ride with them and make\r\nthem sport. All agree, and Harry Bailly unfolds his scheme: each\r\npilgrim, including the poet, shall tell two tales on the road to\r\nCanterbury, and two on the way back to London; and he whom\r\nthe general voice pronounces to have told the best tale, shall be\r\ntreated to a supper at the common cost \u2014 and, of course, to\r\nmine Host\u2019s profit \u2014 when the cavalcade returns from the saint\u2019s\r\nshrine to the Southwark hostelry. All joyously assent; and early\r\non the morrow, in the gay spring sunshine, they ride forth,\r\nlistening to the heroic tale of the brave and gentle Knight, who\r\nhas been gracefully chosen by the Host to lead the spirited\r\ncompetition of story-telling.\r\n\r\nTo describe thus the nature of the plan, and to say that when\r\nChaucer conceived, or at least began to execute it, he was\r\nbetween sixty and seventy years of age, is to proclaim that The\r\nCanterbury Tales could never be more than a fragment. Thirty\r\npilgrims, each telling two tales on the way out, and two more\r\non the way back \u2014 that makes 120 tales; to say nothing of the\r\nprologue, the description of the journey, the occurrences at\r\nCanterbury, \u201cand all the remnant of their pilgrimage,\u201d which\r\nChaucer also undertook. No more than twenty-three of the 120\r\nstories are told in the work as it comes down to us; that is, only\r\ntwenty-three of the thirty pilgrims tell the first of the two stories\r\non the road to Canterbury; while of the stories on the return\r\njourney we have not one, and nothing is said about the doings\r\nof the pilgrims at Canterbury \u2014 which would, if treated like the\r\nscene at the Tabard, have given us a still livelier \u201cpicture of the\r\nperiod.\u201d But the plan was too large; and although the poet had\r\nsome reserves, in stories which he had already composed in an\r\nindependent form, death cut short his labour ere he could even\r\ncomplete the arrangement and connection of more than a very\r\nfew of the Tales. Incomplete as it is, however, the magnum\r\nopus of Chaucer was in his own time received with immense\r\nfavour; manuscript copies are numerous even now \u2014 no slight\r\nproof of its popularity; and when the invention of printing was\r\nintroduced into England by William Caxton, The Canterbury\r\nTales issued from his press in the year after the first English-\r\nprinted book, \u201cThe Game of the Chesse,\u201d had been struck off.\r\nInnumerable editions have since been published; and it may\r\nfairly be affirmed, that few books have been so much in favour\r\nwith the reading public of every generation as this book, which\r\nthe lapse of every generation has been rendering more\r\nunreadable.\r\n\r\nApart from \u201cThe Romaunt of the Rose,\u201d no really important\r\npoetical work of Chaucer\u2019s is omitted from or unrepresented in\r\nthe present edition. Of \u201cThe Legend of Good Women,\u201d the\r\nPrologue only is given \u2014 but it is the most genuinely Chaucerian\r\npart of the poem.  Of \u201cThe Court of Love,\u201d three-fourths are\r\nhere presented; of \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls,\u201d \u201cThe Cuckoo and\r\nthe Nightingale,\u201d \u201cThe Flower and the Leaf,\u201d all; of \u201cChaucer\u2019s\r\nDream,\u201d one-fourth; of \u201cThe House of Fame,\u201d two-thirds; and\r\nof the minor poems such a selection as may give an idea of\r\nChaucer\u2019s power in the \u201coccasional\u201d department of verse.\r\nNecessarily, no space whatever could be given to Chaucer\u2019s\r\nprose works \u2014 his translation of Boethius\u2019 Treatise on the\r\nConsolation of Philosophy; his Treatise on the Astrolabe,\r\nwritten for the use of his son Lewis; and his \u201cTestament of\r\nLove,\u201d composed in his later years, and reflecting the troubles\r\nthat then beset the poet. If, after studying in a simplified form\r\nthe salient works of England\u2019s first great bard, the reader is\r\ntempted to regret that he was not introduced to a wider\r\nacquaintance with the author, the purpose of the Editor will\r\nhave been more than attained.\r\n\r\nThe plan of the volume does not demand an elaborate\r\nexamination into the state of our language when Chaucer wrote,\r\nor the nice questions of grammatical and metrical structure\r\nwhich conspire with the obsolete orthography to make his\r\npoems a sealed book for the masses. The most important\r\nelement in the proper reading of Chaucer\u2019s verses \u2014 whether\r\nwritten in the decasyllabic or heroic metre, which he introduced\r\ninto our literature, or in the octosyllabic measure used with such\r\nanimated effect in \u201cThe House of Fame,\u201d \u201cChaucer\u2019s Dream,\u201d\r\n&c. \u2014 is the sounding of the terminal \u201ce\u201d where it is now silent.\r\nThat letter is still valid in French poetry; and Chaucer\u2019s lines can\r\nbe scanned only by reading them as we would read Racine\u2019s or\r\nMoli\u00e8re\u2019s. The terminal \u201ce\u201d played an important part in\r\ngrammar; in many cases it was the sign of the infinitive \u2014 the\r\n\u201cn\u201d being dropped from the end; at other times it pointed the\r\ndistinction between singular and plural, between adjective and\r\nadverb. The pages that follow, however, being prepared from\r\nthe modern English point of view, necessarily no account is\r\ntaken of those distinctions; and the now silent \u201ce\u201d has been\r\nretained in the text of Chaucer only when required by the\r\nmodern spelling, or by the exigencies of metre.\r\n\r\nBefore a word beginning with a vowel, or with the letter \u201ch,\u201d\r\nthe final \u201ce\u201d was almost without exception mute; and in such\r\ncases, in the plural forms and infinitives of verbs, the terminal\r\n\u201cn\u201d is generally retained for the sake of euphony. No reader\r\nwho is acquainted with the French language will find it hard to\r\nfall into Chaucer\u2019s accentuation; while, for such as are not, a\r\nsimple perusal of the text according to the rules of modern\r\nverse, should remove every difficulty.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Life of Geoffrey Chaucer\r\n\r\n\r\n1. \u201cEdmund Spenser, a native of London, was born with a Muse\r\nof such power, that he was superior to all English poets of\r\npreceding ages, not excepting his fellow-citizen Chaucer.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n2. See introduction to \u201cThe Legend of Good Women\u201d.\r\n\r\n\r\n3. Called in the editions before 1597 \u201cThe Dream of Chaucer\u201d.\r\nThe poem, which is not included in the present edition, does\r\nindeed, like many of Chaucer\u2019s smaller works, tell the story of a\r\ndream, in which a knight, representing John of Gaunt, is found\r\nby the poet mourning the loss of his lady; but the true \u201cDream\r\nof Chaucer,\u201d in which he celebrates the marriage of his patron,\r\nwas published for the first time by Speght in 1597. John of\r\nGaunt, in the end of 1371, married his second wife, Constance,\r\ndaughter to Pedro the Cruel of Spain; so that \u201cThe Book of the\r\nDuchess\u201d must have been written between 1369 and 1371.\r\n\r\n\r\n4. Where he bids his \u201clittle book\u201d\r\n\u201cSubject be unto all poesy,\r\nAnd kiss the steps, where as thou seest space,\r\nOf Virgil, Ovid, Homer, Lucan, Stace.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n5. See note 1 to The Tale in The Clerk\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n\r\n6. See note 1 to The Man of Law\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n\r\n7. \u201cWritten,\u201d says Mr Wright, \u201cin the sixteenth year of the reign\r\nof Richard II. (1392-1393);\u201d a powerful confirmation of the\r\nopinion that this poem was really produced in Chaucer\u2019s mature\r\nage. See the introductory notes to it and to the Legend of Good\r\nWomen.\r\n\r\n\r\n8. The old biographers of Chaucer, founding on what they took\r\nto be autobiographic allusions in \u201cThe Testament of Love,\u201d\r\nassign to him between 1354 and 1389 a very different history\r\nfrom that here given on the strength of authentic records\r\nexplored and quoted by Sir H. Nicolas. Chaucer is made to\r\nespouse the cause of John of Northampton, the Wycliffite Lord\r\nMayor of London, whose re-election in 1384 was so\r\nvehemently opposed by the clergy, and who was imprisoned in\r\nthe sequel of the grave disorders that arose. The poet, it is said,\r\nfled to the Continent, taking with him a large sum of money,\r\nwhich he spent in supporting companions in exile; then,\r\nreturning by stealth to England in quest of funds, he was\r\ndetected and sent to the Tower, where he languished for three\r\nyears, being released only on the humiliating condition of\r\ninforming against his associates in the plot. The public records\r\nshow, however, that, all the time of his alleged exile and\r\ncaptivity, he was quietly living in London, regularly drawing his\r\npensions in person, sitting in Parliament, and discharging his\r\nduties in the Customs until his dismissal in 1386. It need not be\r\nsaid, further, that although Chaucer freely handled the errors,\r\nthe ignorance, and vices of the clergy, he did so rather as a man\r\nof sense and of conscience, than as a Wycliffite \u2014 and there is\r\nno evidence that he espoused the opinions of the zealous\r\nReformer, far less played the part of an extreme and self-\r\nregardless partisan of his old friend and college-companion.\r\n\r\n\r\n9. \u201cThe Commissioners appear to have commenced their\r\nlabours with examining the accounts of the officers employed in\r\nthe collection of the revenue; and the sequel affords a strong\r\npresumption that the royal administration [under Lancaster and\r\nhis friends] had been foully calumniated. We hear not of any\r\nfrauds discovered, or of defaulters punished, or of grievances\r\nredressed.\u201d Such is the testimony of Lingard (chap. iv., 1386),\r\nall the more valuable for his aversion from the Wycliffite\r\nleanings of John of Gaunt. Chaucer\u2019s department in the London\r\nCustoms was in those days one of the most important and\r\nlucrative in the kingdom; and if mercenary abuse of his post\r\ncould have been proved, we may be sure that his and his\r\npatron\u2019s enemies would not have been content with simple\r\ndismissal, but would have heavily amerced or imprisoned him.\r\n\r\n\r\n10. The salary was L36, 10s. per annum; the salary of the Chief\r\nJudges was L40, of the Puisne Judges about L27. Probably the\r\nJudges \u2014 certainly the Clerk of the Works \u2014 had fees or\r\nperquisites besides the stated payment.\r\n\r\n\r\n11. Chaucer\u2019s patron had died earlier in 1399, during the exile\r\nof his son (then Duke of Hereford) in France. The Duchess\r\nConstance had died in 1394; and the Duke had made reparation\r\nto Katherine Swynford \u2014 who had already borne him four\r\nchildren \u2014 by marrying her in 1396, with the approval of\r\nRichard II., who legitimated the children, and made the eldest\r\nson of the poet\u2019s sister-in-law Earl of Somerset. From this long-\r\nillicit union sprang the house of Beaufort \u2014 that being the\r\nsurname of the Duke\u2019s children by Katherine, after the name of\r\nthe castle in Anjou (Belfort, or Beaufort) where they were born.\r\n\r\n\r\n12. Of Chaucer\u2019s two sons by Philippa Roet, his only wife, the\r\nyounger, Lewis, for whom he wrote the Treatise on the\r\nAstrolabe, died young.  The elder, Thomas, married Maud, the\r\nsecond daughter and co-heiress of Sir John Burghersh, brother\r\nof the Bishop of Lincoln, the Chancellor and Treasurer of\r\nEngland. By this marriage Thomas Chaucer acquired great\r\nestates in Oxfordshire and elsewhere; and he figured\r\nprominently in the second rank of courtiers for many years. He\r\nwas Chief Butler to Richard II.; under Henry IV. he was\r\nConstable of Wallingford Castle, Steward of the Honours of\r\nWallingford and St Valery, and of the Chiltern Hundreds; and\r\nthe queen of Henry IV. granted him the farm of several of her\r\nmanors, a grant subsequently confirmed to him for life by the\r\nKing, after the Queen\u2019s death. He sat in Parliament repeatedly\r\nfor Oxfordshire, was Speaker in 1414, and in the same year\r\nwent to France as commissioner to negotiate the marriage of\r\nHenry V. with the Princess Katherine. He held, before he died\r\nin 1434, various other posts of trust and distinction; but he left\r\nno heirs-male.  His only child, Alice Chaucer, married twice;\r\nfirst Sir John Philip; and afterwards the Duke of Suffolk \u2014\r\nattainted and beheaded in 1450.  She had three children by the\r\nDuke; and her eldest son married the Princess Elizabeth, sister\r\nof Edward IV. The eldest son of this marriage, created Earl of\r\nLincoln, was declared by Richard III heir-apparent to the\r\nthrone, in case the Prince of Wales should die without issue; but\r\nthe death of Lincoln himself, at the battle of Stoke in 1487,\r\ndestroyed all prospect that the poet\u2019s descendants might\r\nsucceed to the crown of England; and his family is now believed\r\nto be extinct.\r\n\r\n\r\n13. \u201cGeoffrey Chaucer, bard, and famous mother of poetry, is\r\nburied in this sacred ground.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n14. Railings.\r\n\r\n\r\n15 Translation of the epitaph: This tomb was built for Geoffrey\r\nChaucer, who in his time was the greatest poet of the English. If\r\nyou ask the year of his death, behold the words beneath, which\r\ntell you all. Death gave him rest from his toil, 25th of October\r\n1400.  N Brigham bore the cost of these words in the name of\r\nthe Muses. 1556.\r\n\r\n\r\n16. See the Prologue to Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Sir Thopas.\r\n\r\n\r\n17. See the \u201cGoodly Ballad of Chaucer,\u201d seventh stanza.\r\n\r\n\r\n18. See the opening of the Prologue to \u201cThe Legend of Good\r\nWomen,\u201d and the poet\u2019s account of his habits in \u201cThe House of\r\nFame\u201d.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE CANTERBURY TALES.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\n\r\nWHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swoot*,                       *sweet\r\nThe drought of March hath pierced to the root,\r\nAnd bathed every vein in such licour,\r\nOf which virtue engender\u2019d is the flower;\r\nWhen Zephyrus eke with his swoote breath\r\nInspired hath in every holt* and heath                    *grove, forest\r\nThe tender croppes* and the younge sun                    *twigs, boughs\r\nHath in the Ram <1> his halfe course y-run,\r\nAnd smalle fowles make melody,\r\nThat sleepen all the night with open eye,\r\n(So pricketh them nature in their corages*);       *hearts, inclinations\r\nThen longe folk to go on pilgrimages,\r\nAnd palmers <2> for to seeke strange strands,\r\nTo *ferne hallows couth*  in sundry lands;     *distant saints known*<3>\r\nAnd specially, from every shire\u2019s end\r\nOf Engleland, to Canterbury they wend,\r\nThe holy blissful Martyr for to seek,\r\nThat them hath holpen*, when that they were sick.                *helped\r\n\r\nBefell that, in that season on a day,\r\nIn Southwark at the Tabard <4> as I lay,\r\nReady to wenden on my pilgrimage\r\nTo Canterbury with devout corage,\r\nAt night was come into that hostelry\r\nWell nine and twenty in a company\r\nOf sundry folk, *by aventure y-fall            *who had by chance fallen\r\nIn fellowship*, and pilgrims were they all,           into company.* <5>\r\nThat toward Canterbury woulde ride.\r\nThe chamber, and the stables were wide,\r\nAnd *well we weren eased at the best.*            *we were well provided\r\nAnd shortly, when the sunne was to rest,                  with the best*\r\nSo had I spoken with them every one,\r\nThat I was of their fellowship anon,\r\nAnd made forword* early for to rise,                            *promise\r\nTo take our way there as I you devise*.                *describe, relate\r\n\r\nBut natheless, while I have time and space,\r\nEre that I farther in this tale pace,\r\nMe thinketh it accordant to reason,\r\nTo tell you alle the condition\r\nOf each of them, so as it seemed me,\r\nAnd which they weren, and of what degree;\r\nAnd eke in what array that they were in:\r\nAnd at a Knight then will I first begin.\r\n\r\nA KNIGHT there was, and that a worthy man,\r\nThat from the time that he first began\r\nTo riden out, he loved chivalry,\r\nTruth and honour, freedom and courtesy.\r\nFull worthy was he in his Lorde\u2019s war,\r\nAnd thereto had he ridden, no man farre*,                       *farther\r\nAs well in Christendom as in Heatheness,\r\nAnd ever honour\u2019d for his worthiness\r\nAt Alisandre <6> he was when it was won.\r\nFull often time he had the board begun\r\nAbove alle nations in Prusse.<7>\r\nIn Lettowe had he reysed,* and in Russe,                      *journeyed\r\nNo Christian man so oft of his degree.\r\nIn Grenade at the siege eke had he be\r\nOf Algesir, and ridden in Belmarie. <8>\r\nAt Leyes was he, and at Satalie,\r\nWhen they were won; and in the Greate Sea\r\nAt many a noble army had he be.\r\nAt mortal battles had he been fifteen,\r\nAnd foughten for our faith at Tramissene.\r\nIn listes thries, and aye slain his foe.\r\nThis ilke* worthy knight had been also                         *same <9>\r\nSome time with the lord of Palatie,\r\nAgainst another heathen in Turkie:\r\nAnd evermore *he had a sovereign price*.            *He was held in very\r\nAnd though that he was worthy he was wise,                 high esteem.*\r\nAnd of his port as meek as is a maid.\r\nHe never yet no villainy ne said\r\nIn all his life, unto no manner wight.\r\nHe was a very perfect gentle knight.\r\nBut for to telle you of his array,\r\nHis horse was good, but yet he was not gay.\r\nOf fustian he weared a gipon*,                            *short doublet\r\nAlle *besmotter\u2019d with his habergeon,*     *soiled by his coat of mail.*\r\nFor he was late y-come from his voyage,\r\nAnd wente for to do his pilgrimage.\r\n\r\nWith him there was his son, a younge SQUIRE,\r\nA lover, and a lusty bacheler,\r\nWith lockes crulle* as they were laid in press.                  *curled\r\nOf twenty year of age he was I guess.\r\nOf his stature he was of even length,\r\nAnd *wonderly deliver*, and great of strength.      *wonderfully nimble*\r\nAnd he had been some time in chevachie*,                  *cavalry raids\r\nIn Flanders, in Artois, and Picardie,\r\nAnd borne him well, *as of so little space*,      *in such a short time*\r\nIn hope to standen in his lady\u2019s grace.\r\nEmbroider\u2019d was he, as it were a mead\r\nAll full of freshe flowers, white and red.\r\nSinging he was, or fluting all the day;\r\nHe was as fresh as is the month of May.\r\nShort was his gown, with sleeves long and wide.\r\nWell could he sit on horse, and faire ride.\r\nHe coulde songes make, and well indite,\r\nJoust, and eke dance, and well pourtray and write.\r\nSo hot he loved, that by nightertale*                        *night-time\r\nHe slept no more than doth the nightingale.\r\nCourteous he was, lowly, and serviceable,\r\nAnd carv\u2019d before his father at the table.<10>\r\n\r\nA YEOMAN had he, and servants no mo\u2019\r\nAt that time, for *him list ride so*         *it pleased him so to ride*\r\nAnd he was clad in coat and hood of green.\r\nA sheaf of peacock arrows<11> bright and keen\r\nUnder his belt he bare full thriftily.\r\nWell could he dress his tackle yeomanly:\r\nHis arrows drooped not with feathers low;\r\nAnd in his hand he bare a mighty bow.\r\nA nut-head <12> had he, with a brown visiage:\r\nOf wood-craft coud* he well all the usage:                         *knew\r\nUpon his arm he bare a gay bracer*,                        *small shield\r\nAnd by his side a sword and a buckler,\r\nAnd on that other side a gay daggere,\r\nHarnessed well, and sharp as point of spear:\r\nA Christopher on his breast of silver sheen.\r\nAn horn he bare, the baldric was of green:\r\nA forester was he soothly* as I guess.                        *certainly\r\n\r\nThere was also a Nun, a PRIORESS,\r\nThat of her smiling was full simple and coy;\r\nHer greatest oathe was but by Saint Loy;\r\nAnd she was cleped*  Madame Eglentine.                           *called\r\nFull well she sang the service divine,\r\nEntuned in her nose full seemly;\r\nAnd French she spake full fair and fetisly*                    *properly\r\nAfter the school of Stratford atte Bow,\r\nFor French of Paris was to her unknow.\r\nAt meate was she well y-taught withal;\r\nShe let no morsel from her lippes fall,\r\nNor wet her fingers in her sauce deep.\r\nWell could she carry a morsel, and well keep,\r\nThat no droppe ne fell upon her breast.\r\nIn courtesy was set full much her lest*.                       *pleasure\r\nHer over-lippe wiped she so clean,\r\nThat in her cup there was no farthing* seen                       *speck\r\nOf grease, when she drunken had her draught;\r\nFull seemely after her meat she raught*:           *reached out her hand\r\nAnd *sickerly she was of great disport*,     *surely she was of a lively\r\nAnd full pleasant, and amiable of port,                     disposition*\r\nAnd *pained her to counterfeite cheer              *took pains to assume\r\nOf court,* and be estately of mannere,            a courtly disposition*\r\nAnd to be holden digne* of reverence.                            *worthy\r\nBut for to speaken of her conscience,\r\nShe was so charitable and so pitous,*                      *full of pity\r\nShe woulde weep if that she saw a mouse\r\nCaught in a trap, if it were dead or bled.\r\nOf smalle houndes had she, that she fed\r\nWith roasted flesh, and milk, and *wastel bread.*   *finest white bread*\r\nBut sore she wept if one of them were dead,\r\nOr if men smote it with a yarde* smart:                           *staff\r\nAnd all was conscience and tender heart.\r\nFull seemly her wimple y-pinched was;\r\nHer nose tretis;* her eyen gray as glass;<13>               *well-formed\r\nHer mouth full small, and thereto soft and red;\r\nBut sickerly she had a fair forehead.\r\nIt was almost a spanne broad I trow;\r\nFor *hardily she was not undergrow*.       *certainly she was not small*\r\nFull fetis* was her cloak, as I was ware.                          *neat\r\nOf small coral about her arm she bare\r\nA pair of beades, gauded all with green;\r\nAnd thereon hung a brooch of gold full sheen,\r\nOn which was first y-written a crown\u2019d A,\r\nAnd after, *Amor vincit omnia.*                      *love conquers all*\r\nAnother Nun also with her had she,\r\n[That was her chapelleine, and PRIESTES three.]\r\n\r\nA MONK there was, a fair *for the mast\u2019ry*,       *above all others*<14>\r\nAn out-rider, that loved venery*;                               *hunting\r\nA manly man, to be an abbot able.\r\nFull many a dainty horse had he in stable:\r\nAnd when he rode, men might his bridle hear\r\nJingeling <15> in a whistling wind as clear,\r\nAnd eke as loud, as doth the chapel bell,\r\nThere as this lord was keeper of the cell.\r\nThe rule of Saint Maur and of Saint Benet, <16>\r\nBecause that it was old and somedeal strait\r\nThis ilke* monk let olde thinges pace,                             *same\r\nAnd held after the newe world the trace.\r\nHe *gave not of the text a pulled hen,*                *he cared nothing\r\nThat saith, that hunters be not holy men:                  for the text*\r\nNe that a monk, when he is cloisterless;\r\nIs like to a fish that is waterless;\r\nThis is to say, a monk out of his cloister.\r\nThis ilke text held he not worth an oyster;\r\nAnd I say his opinion was good.\r\nWhy should he study, and make himselfe wood*                   *mad <17>\r\nUpon a book in cloister always pore,\r\nOr swinken* with his handes, and labour,                           *toil\r\nAs Austin bid? how shall the world be served?\r\nLet Austin have his swink to him reserved.\r\nTherefore he was a prickasour* aright:                       *hard rider\r\nGreyhounds he had as swift as fowl of flight;\r\nOf pricking* and of hunting for the hare                         *riding\r\nWas all his lust,* for no cost would he spare.                 *pleasure\r\n I saw his sleeves *purfil\u2019d at the hand       *worked at the end with a\r\nWith gris,* and that the finest of the land.          fur called \u201cgris\u201d*\r\nAnd for to fasten his hood under his chin,\r\nHe had of gold y-wrought a curious pin;\r\nA love-knot in the greater end there was.\r\nHis head was bald, and shone as any glass,\r\nAnd eke his face, as it had been anoint;\r\nHe was a lord full fat and in good point;\r\nHis eyen steep,* and rolling in his head,                      *deep-set\r\nThat steamed as a furnace of a lead.\r\nHis bootes supple, his horse in great estate,\r\nNow certainly he was a fair prelate;\r\nHe was not pale as a forpined* ghost;                            *wasted\r\nA fat swan lov\u2019d he best of any roast.\r\nHis palfrey was as brown as is a berry.\r\n\r\nA FRIAR there was, a wanton and a merry,\r\nA limitour <18>, a full solemne man.\r\nIn all the orders four is none that can*                          *knows\r\nSo much of dalliance and fair language.\r\nHe had y-made full many a marriage\r\nOf younge women, at his owen cost.\r\nUnto his order he was a noble post;\r\nFull well belov\u2019d, and familiar was he\r\nWith franklins *over all* in his country,                   *everywhere*\r\nAnd eke with worthy women of the town:\r\nFor he had power of confession,\r\nAs said himselfe, more than a curate,\r\nFor of his order he was licentiate.\r\nFull sweetely heard he confession,\r\nAnd pleasant was his absolution.\r\nHe was an easy man to give penance,\r\n*There as he wist to have a good pittance:*      *where he know he would\r\nFor unto a poor order for to give                      get good payment*\r\nIs signe that a man is well y-shrive.\r\nFor if he gave, he *durste make avant*,                 *dared to boast*\r\nHe wiste* that the man was repentant.                              *knew\r\nFor many a man so hard is of his heart,\r\nHe may not weep although him sore smart.\r\nTherefore instead of weeping and prayeres,\r\nMen must give silver to the poore freres.\r\nHis tippet was aye farsed* full of knives                       *stuffed\r\nAnd pinnes, for to give to faire wives;\r\nAnd certainly he had a merry note:\r\nWell could he sing and playen *on a rote*;                 *from memory*\r\nOf yeddings* he bare utterly the prize.                           *songs\r\nHis neck was white as is the fleur-de-lis.\r\nThereto he strong was as a champion,\r\nAnd knew well the taverns in every town.\r\nAnd every hosteler and gay tapstere,\r\nBetter than a lazar* or a beggere,                                *leper\r\nFor unto such a worthy man as he\r\nAccordeth not, as by his faculty,\r\nTo have with such lazars acquaintance.\r\nIt is not honest, it may not advance,\r\nAs for to deale with no such pouraille*,                  *offal, refuse\r\nBut all with rich, and sellers of vitaille*.                   *victuals\r\nAnd *ov\u2019r all there as* profit should arise,      *in every place where&\r\nCourteous he was, and lowly of service;\r\nThere n\u2019as no man nowhere so virtuous.\r\nHe was the beste beggar in all his house:\r\nAnd gave a certain farme for the grant, <19>\r\nNone of his bretheren came in his haunt.\r\nFor though a widow hadde but one shoe,\r\nSo pleasant was his In Principio,<20>\r\nYet would he have a farthing ere he went;\r\nHis purchase was well better than his rent.\r\nAnd rage he could and play as any whelp,\r\nIn lovedays <21>; there could he muchel* help.                  *greatly\r\nFor there was he not like a cloisterer,\r\nWith threadbare cope as is a poor scholer;\r\nBut he was like a master or a pope.\r\nOf double worsted was his semicope*,                        *short cloak\r\nThat rounded was as a bell out of press.\r\nSomewhat he lisped for his wantonness,\r\nTo make his English sweet upon his tongue;\r\nAnd in his harping, when that he had sung,\r\nHis eyen* twinkled in his head aright,                             *eyes\r\nAs do the starres in a frosty night.\r\nThis worthy limitour <18> was call\u2019d Huberd.\r\n\r\nA MERCHANT was there with a forked beard,\r\nIn motley, and high on his horse he sat,\r\nUpon his head a Flandrish beaver hat.\r\nHis bootes clasped fair and fetisly*.                            *neatly\r\nHis reasons aye spake he full solemnly,\r\nSounding alway th\u2019 increase of his winning.\r\nHe would the sea were kept <22> for any thing\r\nBetwixte Middleburg and Orewell<23>\r\nWell could he in exchange shieldes* sell              *crown coins <24>\r\nThis worthy man full well his wit beset*;                      *employed\r\nThere wiste* no wight** that he was in debt,                 *knew **man\r\nSo *estately was he of governance*                  *so well he managed*\r\nWith his bargains, and with his chevisance*.          *business contract\r\nFor sooth he was a worthy man withal,\r\nBut sooth to say, I n\u2019ot* how men him call.                    *know not\r\n\r\nA CLERK there was of Oxenford* also,                             *Oxford\r\nThat unto logic hadde long y-go*.                       *devoted himself\r\nAs leane was his horse as is a rake,\r\nAnd he was not right fat, I undertake;\r\nBut looked hollow*, and thereto soberly**.               *thin; **poorly\r\nFull threadbare was his *overest courtepy*,      *uppermost short cloak*\r\nFor he had gotten him yet no benefice,\r\nNe was not worldly, to have an office.\r\nFor him was lever* have at his bed\u2019s head                        *rather\r\nTwenty bookes, clothed in black or red,\r\nOf Aristotle, and his philosophy,\r\nThan robes rich, or fiddle, or psalt\u2019ry.\r\nBut all be that he was a philosopher,\r\nYet hadde he but little gold in coffer,\r\nBut all that he might of his friendes hent*,                     *obtain\r\nOn bookes and on learning he it spent,\r\nAnd busily gan for the soules pray\r\nOf them that gave him <25> wherewith to scholay*                  *study\r\nOf study took he moste care and heed.\r\nNot one word spake he more than was need;\r\nAnd that was said in form and reverence,\r\nAnd short and quick, and full of high sentence.\r\nSounding in moral virtue was his speech,\r\nAnd gladly would he learn, and gladly teach.\r\n\r\nA SERGEANT OF THE LAW, wary and wise,\r\nThat often had y-been at the Parvis, <26>\r\nThere was also, full rich of excellence.\r\nDiscreet he was, and of great reverence:\r\nHe seemed such, his wordes were so wise,\r\nJustice he was full often in assize,\r\nBy patent, and by plein* commission;                               *full\r\nFor his science, and for his high renown,\r\nOf fees and robes had he many one.\r\nSo great a purchaser was nowhere none.\r\nAll was fee simple to him, in effect\r\nHis purchasing might not be in suspect*                       *suspicion\r\nNowhere so busy a man as he there was\r\nAnd yet he seemed busier than he was\r\nIn termes had he case\u2019 and doomes* all                       *judgements\r\nThat from the time of King Will. were fall.\r\nThereto he could indite, and make a thing\r\nThere coulde no wight *pinch at* his writing.          *find fault with*\r\nAnd every statute coud* he plain by rote                           *knew\r\nHe rode but homely in a medley* coat,                     *multicoloured\r\nGirt with a seint* of silk, with barres small;                     *sash\r\nOf his array tell I no longer tale.\r\n\r\nA FRANKELIN* was in this company;                        *Rich landowner\r\nWhite was his beard, as is the daisy.\r\nOf his complexion he was sanguine.\r\nWell lov\u2019d he in the morn a sop in wine.\r\nTo liven in delight was ever his won*,                             *wont\r\nFor he was Epicurus\u2019 owen son,\r\nThat held opinion, that plein* delight                             *full\r\nWas verily felicity perfite.\r\nAn householder, and that a great, was he;\r\nSaint Julian<27> he was in his country.\r\nHis bread, his ale, was alway *after one*;              *pressed on one*\r\nA better envined* man was nowhere none;                *stored with wine\r\nWithoute bake-meat never was his house,\r\nOf fish and flesh, and that so plenteous,\r\nIt snowed in his house of meat and drink,\r\nOf alle dainties that men coulde think.\r\nAfter the sundry seasons of the year,\r\nSo changed he his meat and his soupere.\r\nFull many a fat partridge had he in mew*,                     *cage <28>\r\nAnd many a bream, and many a luce* in stew**<29>       *pike **fish-pond\r\nWoe was his cook, *but if* his sauce were                       *unless*\r\nPoignant and sharp, and ready all his gear.\r\nHis table dormant* in his hall alway                              *fixed\r\nStood ready cover\u2019d all the longe day.\r\nAt sessions there was he lord and sire.\r\nFull often time he was *knight of the shire*      *Member of Parliament*\r\nAn anlace*, and a gipciere** all of silk,                *dagger **purse\r\nHung at his girdle, white as morning milk.\r\nA sheriff had he been, and a countour<30>\r\nWas nowhere such a worthy vavasour<31>.\r\n\r\n An HABERDASHER, and a CARPENTER,\r\nA WEBBE*, a DYER, and a TAPISER**,              *weaver **tapestry-maker\r\nWere with us eke, cloth\u2019d in one livery,\r\nOf a solemn and great fraternity.\r\nFull fresh and new their gear y-picked* was.                     *spruce\r\nTheir knives were y-chaped* not with brass,                     *mounted\r\nBut all with silver wrought full clean and well,\r\nTheir girdles and their pouches *every deal*.            *in every part*\r\nWell seemed each of them a fair burgess,\r\nTo sitten in a guild-hall, on the dais. <32>\r\nEvereach, for the wisdom that he can*,                             *knew\r\nWas shapely* for to be an alderman.                              *fitted\r\nFor chattels hadde they enough and rent,\r\nAnd eke their wives would it well assent:\r\nAnd elles certain they had been to blame.\r\nIt is full fair to be y-clep\u2019d madame,\r\nAnd for to go to vigils all before,\r\nAnd have a mantle royally y-bore.<33>\r\n\r\nA COOK they hadde with them for the nones*,                    *occasion\r\nTo boil the chickens and the marrow bones,\r\nAnd powder merchant tart and galingale.\r\nWell could he know a draught of London ale.\r\nHe could roast, and stew, and broil, and fry,\r\nMake mortrewes, and well bake a pie.\r\nBut great harm was it, as it thoughte me,\r\nThat, on his shin a mormal* hadde he.                             *ulcer\r\nFor blanc manger, that made he with the best <34>\r\n\r\nA SHIPMAN was there, *wonned far by West*:                *who dwelt far\r\nFor ought I wot, be was of Dartemouth.                      to the West*\r\nHe rode upon a rouncy*, as he couth,                               *hack\r\nAll in a gown of falding* to the knee.                     *coarse cloth\r\nA dagger hanging by a lace had he\r\nAbout his neck under his arm adown;\r\nThe hot summer had made his hue all brown;\r\nAnd certainly he was a good fellaw.\r\nFull many a draught of wine he had y-draw\r\nFrom Bourdeaux-ward, while that the chapmen sleep;\r\nOf nice conscience took he no keep.\r\nIf that he fought, and had the higher hand,\r\n*By water he sent them home to every land.*              *he drowned his\r\nBut of his craft to reckon well his tides,                    prisoners*\r\nHis streames and his strandes him besides,\r\nHis herberow*, his moon, and lodemanage**,                   *harbourage\r\nThere was none such, from Hull unto Carthage              **pilotage<35>\r\nHardy he was, and wise, I undertake:\r\nWith many a tempest had his beard been shake.\r\nHe knew well all the havens, as they were,\r\nFrom Scotland to the Cape of Finisterre,\r\nAnd every creek in Bretagne and in Spain:\r\nHis barge y-cleped was the Magdelain.\r\n\r\nWith us there was a DOCTOR OF PHYSIC;\r\nIn all this worlde was there none him like\r\nTo speak of physic, and of surgery:\r\nFor he was grounded in astronomy.\r\nHe kept his patient a full great deal\r\nIn houres by his magic natural.\r\nWell could he fortune* the ascendent                     *make fortunate\r\nOf his images for his patient,.\r\nHe knew the cause of every malady,\r\nWere it of cold, or hot, or moist, or dry,\r\nAnd where engender\u2019d, and of what humour.\r\nHe was a very  perfect practisour\r\nThe cause y-know,* and of his harm the root,                      *known\r\nAnon he gave to the sick man his boot*                           *remedy\r\nFull ready had he his apothecaries,\r\nTo send his drugges and his lectuaries\r\nFor each of them made other for to win\r\nTheir friendship was not newe to begin\r\nWell knew he the old Esculapius,\r\nAnd Dioscorides, and eke Rufus;\r\nOld Hippocras, Hali, and Gallien;\r\nSerapion, Rasis, and Avicen;\r\nAverrois, Damascene, and Constantin;\r\nBernard, and Gatisden, and Gilbertin. <36>\r\nOf his diet measurable was he,\r\nFor it was of no superfluity,\r\nBut of great nourishing, and digestible.\r\nHis study was but little on the Bible.\r\nIn sanguine* and in perse** he clad was all                  *red **blue\r\nLined with taffeta, and with sendall*.                        *fine silk\r\nAnd yet *he was but easy of dispense*:            *he spent very little*\r\nHe kept *that he won in the pestilence*.              *the money he made\r\nFor gold in physic is a cordial;                      during the plague*\r\nTherefore he loved gold in special.\r\n\r\nA good WIFE was there OF beside BATH,\r\nBut she was somedeal deaf, and that was scath*.            *damage; pity\r\nOf cloth-making she hadde such an haunt*,                         *skill\r\nShe passed them of Ypres, and of Gaunt. <37>\r\nIn all the parish wife was there none,\r\nThat to the off\u2019ring* before her should gon,       *the offering at mass\r\nAnd if there did, certain so wroth was she,\r\nThat she was out of alle charity\r\nHer coverchiefs* were full fine of ground                  *head-dresses\r\nI durste swear, they weighede ten pound <38>\r\nThat on the Sunday were upon her head.\r\nHer hosen weren of fine scarlet red,\r\nFull strait y-tied, and shoes full moist* and new            *fresh <39>\r\nBold was her face, and fair and red of hue.\r\nShe was a worthy woman all her live,\r\nHusbands at the church door had she had five,\r\nWithouten other company in youth;\r\nBut thereof needeth not to speak as nouth*.                         *now\r\nAnd thrice had she been at Jerusalem;\r\nShe hadde passed many a strange stream\r\nAt Rome she had been, and at Bologne,\r\nIn Galice at Saint James, <40> and at Cologne;\r\nShe coude* much of wand\u2019rng by the Way.                            *knew\r\nGat-toothed* was she, soothly for to say.              *Buck-toothed<41>\r\nUpon an ambler easily she sat,\r\nY-wimpled well, and on her head an hat\r\nAs broad as is a buckler or a targe.\r\nA foot-mantle about her hippes large,\r\nAnd on her feet a pair of spurres sharp.\r\nIn fellowship well could she laugh and carp*                 *jest, talk\r\nOf remedies of love she knew perchance\r\nFor of that art she coud* the olde dance.                          *knew\r\n\r\nA good man there was of religion,\r\nThat was a poore PARSON of a town:\r\nBut rich he was of holy thought and werk*.                         *work\r\nHe was also a learned man, a clerk,\r\nThat Christe\u2019s gospel truly woulde preach.\r\nHis parishens* devoutly would he teach.                    *parishioners\r\nBenign he was, and wonder diligent,\r\nAnd in adversity full patient:\r\nAnd such he was y-proved *often sithes*.                    *oftentimes*\r\nFull loth were him to curse for his tithes,\r\nBut rather would he given out of doubt,\r\nUnto his poore parishens about,\r\nOf his off\u2019ring, and eke of his substance.\r\n*He could in little thing have suffisance*.       *he was satisfied with\r\nWide was his parish, and houses far asunder,                very little*\r\nBut he ne left not, for no rain nor thunder,\r\nIn sickness and in mischief to visit\r\nThe farthest in his parish, *much and lit*,            *great and small*\r\nUpon his feet, and in his hand a staff.\r\nThis noble ensample to his sheep he gaf*,                          *gave\r\nThat first he wrought, and afterward he taught.\r\nOut of the gospel he the wordes caught,\r\nAnd this figure he added yet thereto,\r\nThat if gold ruste, what should iron do?\r\nFor if a priest be foul, on whom we trust,\r\nNo wonder is a lewed* man to rust:                            *unlearned\r\nAnd shame it is, if that a priest take keep,\r\nTo see a shitten shepherd and clean sheep:\r\nWell ought a priest ensample for to give,\r\nBy his own cleanness, how his sheep should live.\r\nHe sette not his benefice to hire,\r\nAnd left his sheep eucumber\u2019d in the mire,\r\nAnd ran unto London, unto Saint Paul\u2019s,\r\nTo seeke him a chantery<42> for souls,\r\nOr with a brotherhood to be withold:*                          *detained\r\nBut dwelt at home, and kepte well his fold,\r\nSo that the wolf ne made it not miscarry.\r\nHe was a shepherd, and no mercenary.\r\nAnd though he holy were, and virtuous,\r\nHe was to sinful men not dispitous*                              *severe\r\nNor of his speeche dangerous nor dign*                       *disdainful\r\nBut in his teaching discreet and benign.\r\nTo drawen folk to heaven, with fairness,\r\nBy good ensample, was his business:\r\n*But it were* any person obstinate,                     *but if it were*\r\nWhat so he were of high or low estate,\r\nHim would he snibbe* sharply for the nones**.  *reprove **nonce,occasion\r\nA better priest I trow that nowhere none is.\r\nHe waited after no pomp nor reverence,\r\nNor maked him a *spiced conscience*,             *artificial conscience*\r\nBut Christe\u2019s lore, and his apostles\u2019 twelve,\r\nHe taught, and first he follow\u2019d it himselve.\r\n\r\nWith him there was a PLOUGHMAN, was his brother,\r\nThat had y-laid of dung full many a fother*.                        *ton\r\nA true swinker* and a good was he,                          *hard worker\r\nLiving in peace and perfect charity.\r\nGod loved he beste with all his heart\r\nAt alle times, were it gain or smart*,                       *pain, loss\r\nAnd then his neighebour right as himselve.\r\nHe woulde thresh, and thereto dike*, and delve,             *dig ditches\r\nFor Christe\u2019s sake, for every poore wight,\r\nWithouten hire, if it lay in his might.\r\nHis tithes payed he full fair and well,\r\nBoth of his *proper swink*, and his chattel**   *his own labour* **goods\r\nIn a tabard* he rode upon a mare.                     *sleeveless jerkin\r\n\r\nThere was also a Reeve, and a Millere,\r\nA Sompnour, and a Pardoner also,\r\nA Manciple, and myself, there were no mo\u2019.\r\n\r\nThe MILLER was a stout carle for the nones,\r\nFull big he was of brawn, and eke of bones;\r\nThat proved well, for *ov\u2019r all where* he came,            *wheresoever*\r\nAt wrestling he would bear away the ram.<43>\r\nHe was short-shouldered, broad, a thicke gnarr*,          *stump of wood\r\nThere was no door, that he n\u2019old* heave off bar,              *could not\r\nOr break it at a running with his head.\r\nHis beard as any sow or fox was red,\r\nAnd thereto broad, as though it were a spade.\r\nUpon the cop* right of his nose he had                        *head <44>\r\nA wart, and thereon stood a tuft of hairs\r\nRed as the bristles of a sowe\u2019s ears.\r\nHis nose-thirles* blacke were and wide.                   *nostrils <45>\r\nA sword and buckler bare he by his side.\r\nHis mouth as wide was as a furnace.\r\nHe was a jangler, and a goliardais*,                       *buffoon <46>\r\nAnd that was most of sin and harlotries.\r\nWell could he steale corn, and tolle thrice\r\nAnd yet he had a thumb of gold, pardie.<47>\r\nA white coat and a blue hood weared he\r\nA baggepipe well could he blow and soun\u2019,\r\nAnd therewithal he brought us out of town.\r\n\r\nA gentle MANCIPLE <48> was there of a temple,\r\nOf which achatours* mighte take ensample                         *buyers\r\nFor to be wise in buying of vitaille*.                         *victuals\r\nFor whether that he paid, or took *by taile*,                 *on credit\r\nAlgate* he waited so in his achate**,                 *always **purchase\r\nThat he was aye before in good estate.\r\nNow is not that of God a full fair grace\r\nThat such a lewed* mannes wit shall pace**          *unlearned **surpass\r\nThe wisdom of an heap of learned men?\r\nOf masters had he more than thries ten,\r\nThat were of law expert and curious:\r\nOf which there was a dozen in that house,\r\nWorthy to be stewards of rent and land\r\nOf any lord that is in Engleland,\r\nTo make him live by his proper good,\r\nIn honour debtless, *but if he were wood*,          *unless he were mad*\r\nOr live as scarcely as him list desire;\r\nAnd able for to helpen all a shire\r\nIn any case that mighte fall or hap;\r\nAnd yet this Manciple *set their aller cap*         *outwitted them all*\r\n\r\nThe REEVE <49> was a slender choleric man\r\nHis beard was shav\u2019d as nigh as ever he can.\r\nHis hair was by his eares round y-shorn;\r\nHis top was docked like a priest beforn\r\nFull longe were his legges, and full lean\r\nY-like a staff, there was no calf y-seen\r\nWell could he keep a garner* and a bin*           *storeplaces for grain\r\nThere was no auditor could on him win\r\nWell wist he by the drought, and by the rain,\r\nThe yielding of his seed and of his grain\r\nHis lorde\u2019s sheep, his neat*, and his dairy                      *cattle\r\nHis swine, his horse, his store, and his poultry,\r\nWere wholly in this Reeve\u2019s governing,\r\nAnd by his cov\u2019nant gave he reckoning,\r\nSince that his lord was twenty year of age;\r\nThere could no man bring him in arrearage\r\nThere was no bailiff, herd, nor other hine*                     *servant\r\nThat he ne knew his *sleight and his covine*       *tricks and cheating*\r\nThey were adrad* of him, as of the death                       *in dread\r\nHis wonning* was full fair upon an heath                          *abode\r\nWith greene trees y-shadow\u2019d was his place.\r\nHe coulde better than his lord purchase\r\nFull rich he was y-stored privily\r\nHis lord well could he please subtilly,\r\nTo give and lend him of his owen good,\r\nAnd have a thank, and yet* a coat and hood.                        *also\r\nIn youth he learned had a good mistere*                           *trade\r\nHe was a well good wright, a carpentere\r\nThis Reeve sate upon a right good stot*,                          *steed\r\nThat was all pomely* gray, and highte** Scot.          *dappled **called\r\nA long surcoat of perse* upon he had,                          *sky-blue\r\nAnd by his side he bare a rusty blade.\r\nOf Norfolk was this Reeve, of which I tell,\r\nBeside a town men clepen* Baldeswell,                              *call\r\nTucked he was, as is a friar, about,\r\nAnd ever rode the *hinderest of the rout*.       *hindmost of the group*\r\n\r\nA SOMPNOUR* was there with us in that place,              *summoner <50>\r\nThat had a fire-red cherubinnes face,\r\nFor sausefleme* he was, with eyen narrow.                 *red or pimply\r\nAs hot he was and lecherous as a sparrow,\r\nWith scalled browes black, and pilled* beard:                    *scanty\r\nOf his visage children were sore afeard.\r\nThere n\u2019as quicksilver, litharge, nor brimstone,\r\nBoras, ceruse, nor oil of tartar none,\r\nNor ointement that woulde cleanse or bite,\r\nThat him might helpen of his whelkes* white,                   *pustules\r\nNor of the knobbes* sitting on his cheeks.                      *buttons\r\nWell lov\u2019d he garlic, onions, and leeks,\r\nAnd for to drink strong wine as red as blood.\r\nThen would he speak, and cry as he were wood;\r\nAnd when that he well drunken had the wine,\r\nThen would he speake no word but Latin.\r\nA fewe termes knew he, two or three,\r\nThat he had learned out of some decree;\r\nNo wonder is, he heard it all the day.\r\nAnd eke ye knowen well, how that a jay\r\nCan clepen* \u201cWat,\u201d as well as can the Pope.                        *call\r\nBut whoso would in other thing him grope*,                       *search\r\nThen had he spent all his philosophy,\r\nAye, Questio quid juris,<51> would he cry.\r\n\r\nHe was a gentle harlot* and a kind;                    *a low fellow<52>\r\nA better fellow should a man not find.\r\nHe woulde suffer, for a quart of wine,\r\nA good fellow to have his concubine\r\nA twelvemonth, and excuse him at the full.\r\nFull privily a *finch eke could he pull*.               *\u201cfleece\u201d a man*\r\nAnd if he found owhere* a good fellaw,                         *anywhere\r\nHe woulde teache him to have none awe\r\nIn such a case of the archdeacon\u2019s curse;\r\n*But if* a manne\u2019s soul were in his purse;                      *unless*\r\nFor in his purse he should y-punished be.\r\n\u201cPurse is the archedeacon\u2019s hell,\u201d said he.\r\nBut well I wot, he lied right indeed:\r\nOf cursing ought each guilty man to dread,\r\nFor curse will slay right as assoiling* saveth;               *absolving\r\nAnd also \u2019ware him of a significavit<53>.\r\nIn danger had he at his owen guise\r\nThe younge girles of the diocese, <54>\r\nAnd knew their counsel, and was of their rede*.                 *counsel\r\nA garland had he set upon his head,\r\nAs great as it were for an alestake*:      *The post of an alehouse sign\r\nA buckler had he made him of a cake.\r\n\r\nWith him there rode a gentle PARDONERE <55>\r\nOf Ronceval, his friend and his compere,\r\nThat straight was comen from the court of Rome.\r\nFull loud he sang, \u201cCome hither, love, to me\u201d\r\nThis Sompnour *bare to him a stiff burdoun*,             *sang the bass*\r\nWas never trump of half so great a soun\u2019.\r\nThis Pardoner had hair as yellow as wax,\r\nBut smooth it hung, as doth a strike* of flax:                    *strip\r\nBy ounces hung his lockes that he had,\r\nAnd therewith he his shoulders oversprad.\r\nFull thin it lay, by culpons* one and one,                *locks, shreds\r\nBut hood for jollity, he weared none,\r\nFor it was trussed up in his wallet.\r\nHim thought he rode all of the *newe get*,          *latest fashion*<56>\r\nDishevel, save his cap, he rode all bare.\r\nSuch glaring eyen had he, as an hare.\r\nA vernicle*  had he sew\u2019d upon his cap.            *image of Christ <57>\r\nHis wallet lay before him in his lap,\r\nBretful* of pardon come from Rome all hot.                      *brimful\r\nA voice he had as small as hath a goat.\r\nNo beard had he, nor ever one should have.\r\nAs smooth it was as it were new y-shave;\r\nI trow he were a gelding or a mare.\r\nBut of his craft, from Berwick unto Ware,\r\nNe was there such another pardonere.\r\nFor in his mail* he had a pillowbere**,           *bag <58> **pillowcase\r\nWhich, as he saide, was our Lady\u2019s veil:\r\nHe said, he had a gobbet* of the sail                             *piece\r\nThat Sainte Peter had, when that he went\r\nUpon the sea, till Jesus Christ him hent*.                 *took hold of\r\nHe had a cross of latoun* full of stones,                        *copper\r\nAnd in a glass he hadde pigge\u2019s bones.\r\nBut with these relics, whenne that he fond\r\nA poore parson dwelling upon lond,\r\nUpon a day he got him more money\r\nThan that the parson got in moneths tway;\r\nAnd thus with feigned flattering and japes*,                      *jests\r\nHe made the parson and the people his apes.\r\nBut truely to tellen at the last,\r\nHe was in church a noble ecclesiast.\r\nWell could he read a lesson or a story,\r\nBut alderbest* he sang an offertory:                        *best of all\r\nFor well he wiste, when that song was sung,\r\nHe muste preach, and well afile* his tongue,                     *polish\r\nTo winne silver, as he right well could:\r\nTherefore he sang full merrily and loud.\r\n\r\nNow have I told you shortly in a clause\r\nTh\u2019 estate, th\u2019 array, the number, and eke the cause\r\nWhy that assembled was this company\r\nIn Southwark at this gentle hostelry,\r\nThat highte the Tabard, fast by the Bell.<59>\r\nBut now is time to you for to tell\r\n*How that we baren us that ilke night*,    *what we did that same night*\r\nWhen we were in that hostelry alight.\r\nAnd after will I tell of our voyage,\r\nAnd all the remnant of our pilgrimage.\r\nBut first I pray you of your courtesy,\r\nThat ye *arette it not my villainy*,       *count it not rudeness in me*\r\nThough that I plainly speak in this mattere.\r\nTo tellen you their wordes and their cheer;\r\nNot though I speak their wordes properly.\r\nFor this ye knowen all so well as I,\r\nWhoso shall tell a tale after a man,\r\nHe must rehearse, as nigh as ever he can,\r\nEvery word, if it be in his charge,\r\n*All speak he* ne\u2019er so rudely and so large;             *let him speak*\r\nOr elles he must tell his tale untrue,\r\nOr feigne things, or finde wordes new.\r\nHe may not spare, although he were his brother;\r\nHe must as well say one word as another.\r\nChrist spake Himself full broad in Holy Writ,\r\nAnd well ye wot no villainy is it.\r\nEke Plato saith, whoso that can him read,\r\nThe wordes must be cousin to the deed.\r\nAlso I pray you to forgive it me,\r\n*All have I* not set folk in their degree,             *although I have*\r\nHere in this tale, as that they shoulden stand:\r\nMy wit is short, ye may well understand.\r\n\r\nGreat cheere made our Host us every one,\r\nAnd to the supper set he us anon:\r\nAnd served us with victual of the best.\r\nStrong was the wine, and well to drink us lest*.                *pleased\r\nA seemly man Our Hoste was withal\r\nFor to have been a marshal in an hall.\r\nA large man he was with eyen steep*,                          *deep-set.\r\nA fairer burgess is there none in Cheap<60>:\r\nBold of his speech, and wise and well y-taught,\r\nAnd of manhoode lacked him right naught.\r\nEke thereto was he right a merry man,\r\nAnd after supper playen he began,\r\nAnd spake of mirth amonges other things,\r\nWhen that we hadde made our reckonings;\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cNow, lordinges, truly\r\nYe be to me welcome right heartily:\r\nFor by my troth, if that I shall not lie,\r\nI saw not this year such a company\r\nAt once in this herberow*, am is now.                          *inn <61>\r\nFain would I do you mirth, an* I wist* how.                  *if I knew*\r\nAnd of a mirth I am right now bethought.\r\nTo do you ease*, and it shall coste nought.                    *pleasure\r\nYe go to Canterbury; God you speed,\r\nThe blissful Martyr *quite you your meed*;               *grant you what\r\nAnd well I wot, as ye go by the way,                        you deserve*\r\nYe *shapen you* to talken and to play:                       *intend to*\r\nFor truely comfort nor mirth is none\r\nTo ride by the way as dumb as stone:\r\nAnd therefore would I make you disport,\r\nAs I said erst, and do you some comfort.\r\nAnd if you liketh all by one assent\r\nNow for to standen at my judgement,\r\nAnd for to worken as I shall you say\r\nTo-morrow, when ye riden on the way,\r\nNow by my father\u2019s soule that is dead,\r\n*But ye be merry, smiteth off* mine head.         *unless you are merry,\r\nHold up your hands withoute more speech.              smite off my head*\r\n\r\nOur counsel was not longe for to seech*:                           *seek\r\nUs thought it was not worth to *make it wise*,    *discuss it at length*\r\nAnd granted him withoute more avise*,                     *consideration\r\nAnd bade him say his verdict, as him lest.\r\nLordings (quoth he), now hearken for the best;\r\nBut take it not, I pray you, in disdain;\r\nThis is the point, to speak it plat* and plain.                    *flat\r\nThat each of you, to shorten with your way\r\nIn this voyage, shall tellen tales tway,\r\nTo Canterbury-ward, I mean it so,\r\nAnd homeward he shall tellen other two,\r\nOf aventures that whilom have befall.\r\nAnd which of you that bear\u2019th him best of all,\r\nThat is to say, that telleth in this case\r\nTales of best sentence and most solace,\r\nShall have a supper *at your aller cost*        *at the cost of you all*\r\nHere in this place, sitting by this post,\r\nWhen that ye come again from Canterbury.\r\nAnd for to make you the more merry,\r\nI will myselfe gladly with you ride,\r\nRight at mine owen cost, and be your guide.\r\nAnd whoso will my judgement withsay,\r\nShall pay for all we spenden by the way.\r\nAnd if ye vouchesafe that it be so,\r\nTell me anon withoute wordes mo\u2019*,                                 *more\r\nAnd I will early shape me therefore.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis thing was granted, and our oath we swore\r\nWith full glad heart, and prayed him also,\r\nThat he would vouchesafe for to do so,\r\nAnd that he woulde be our governour,\r\nAnd of our tales judge and reportour,\r\nAnd set a supper at a certain price;\r\nAnd we will ruled be at his device,\r\nIn high and low: and thus by one assent,\r\nWe be accorded to his judgement.\r\nAnd thereupon the wine was fet* anon.                          *fetched.\r\nWe drunken, and to reste went each one,\r\nWithouten any longer tarrying\r\nA-morrow, when the day began to spring,\r\nUp rose our host, and was *our aller cock*,    *the cock to wake us all*\r\nAnd gather\u2019d us together in a flock,\r\nAnd forth we ridden all a little space,\r\nUnto the watering of Saint Thomas<62>:\r\nAnd there our host began his horse arrest,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cLordes, hearken if you lest.\r\nYe *weet your forword,* and I it record.             *know your promise*\r\nIf even-song and morning-song accord,\r\nLet see now who shall telle the first tale.\r\nAs ever may I drinke wine or ale,\r\nWhoso is rebel to my judgement,\r\nShall pay for all that by the way is spent.\r\nNow draw ye cuts*, ere that ye farther twin**.                *lots **go\r\nHe which that hath the shortest shall begin.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cSir Knight (quoth he), my master and my lord,\r\nNow draw the cut, for that is mine accord.\r\nCome near (quoth he), my Lady Prioress,\r\nAnd ye, Sir Clerk, let be your shamefastness,\r\nNor study not: lay hand to, every man.\u201d\r\nAnon to drawen every wight began,\r\nAnd shortly for to tellen as it was,\r\nWere it by a venture, or sort*, or cas**,                  *lot **chance\r\nThe sooth is this, the cut fell to the Knight,\r\nOf which full blithe and glad was every wight;\r\nAnd tell he must his tale as was reason,\r\nBy forword, and by composition,\r\nAs ye have heard; what needeth wordes mo\u2019?\r\nAnd when this good man saw that it was so,\r\nAs he that wise was and obedient\r\nTo keep his forword by his free assent,\r\nHe said; \u201cSithen* I shall begin this game,                        *since\r\nWhy, welcome be the cut in Godde\u2019s name.\r\nNow let us ride, and hearken what I say.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word we ridden forth our way;\r\nAnd he began with right a merry cheer\r\nHis tale anon, and said as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Tyrwhitt points out that \u201cthe Bull\u201d should be read  here, not\r\n\u201cthe Ram,\u201d which would place the time of  the pilgrimage in the\r\nend of March; whereas, in the Prologue to the Man of Law\u2019s\r\nTale, the date is given as the \u201ceight and  twenty day of April,\r\nthat is messenger to May.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. Dante, in the \u201cVita Nuova,\u201d distinguishes three classes of\r\npilgrims: palmieri - palmers who go beyond  sea to the East,\r\nand often bring back staves of palm-wood; peregrini, who go\r\nthe shrine of St Jago in Galicia; Romei, who go to Rome.   Sir\r\nWalter Scott, however, says that palmers were in the habit of\r\npassing from shrine to shrine, living on charity \u2014 pilgrims on the\r\nother hand, made the journey to any shrine only once,\r\nimmediately returning to their ordinary avocations. Chaucer\r\nuses \u201cpalmer\u201d of all pilgrims.\r\n\r\n3. \u201cHallows\u201d survives, in the meaning here given, in All Hallows\r\n\u2014 All-Saints \u2014 day.  \u201cCouth,\u201d past participle of \u201cconne\u201d to\r\nknow, exists in \u201cuncouth.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. The Tabard \u2014 the sign of the inn \u2014 was a sleeveless coat,\r\nworn by heralds.  The name of the inn was, some three\r\ncenturies after Chaucer, changed to the Talbot.\r\n\r\n5. In y-fall,\u201d \u201cy\u201d is a corruption of the Anglo-Saxon \u201cge\u201d\r\nprefixed to participles of verbs.  It is used by Chaucer merely to\r\nhelp the metre  In German,  \u201cy-fall,\u201d or  y-falle,\u201d would be\r\n\u201cgefallen\u201d,  \u201cy-run,\u201d or \u201cy-ronne\u201d, would be \u201cgeronnen.\u201d\r\n\r\n6. Alisandre: Alexandria, in Egypt, captured by Pierre de\r\nLusignan, king of Cyprus, in 1365 but abandoned immediately\r\nafterwards.  Thirteen years before, the same Prince had taken\r\nSatalie, the ancient Attalia, in Anatolia, and in 1367 he won\r\nLayas, in Armenia, both places named just below.\r\n\r\n7. The knight had been placed at the head of the table, above\r\nknights of all nations, in Prussia, whither warriors from all\r\ncountries were wont to repair, to aid the Teutonic Order in their\r\ncontinual conflicts with their heathen neighbours in  \u201cLettowe\u201d\r\nor Lithuania (German. \u201cLitthauen\u201d), Russia, &c.\r\n\r\n8. Algesiras was taken from the Moorish king of Grenada, in\r\n1344: the Earls of Derby and Salisbury took part in the siege.\r\nBelmarie is supposed to have been a Moorish state in Africa;\r\nbut \u201cPalmyrie\u201d has been suggested as the correct reading. The\r\nGreat Sea, or  the Greek sea, is the Eastern Mediterranean.\r\nTramissene, or Tremessen, is enumerated by Froissart among\r\nthe Moorish kingdoms in Africa. Palatie, or  Palathia, in\r\nAnatolia, was a fief held by the Christian  knights after the\r\nTurkish conquests \u2014 the holders paying tribute to the infidel.\r\nOur knight had fought with one of those lords against a heathen\r\nneighbour.\r\n\r\n9. Ilke: same; compare the Scottish phrase \u201cof that ilk,\u201d \u2014\r\nthat is, of the estate which bears the same name as its owner\u2019s\r\ntitle.\r\n\r\n10. It was the custom for squires of the highest degree to carve\r\nat their fathers\u2019 tables.\r\n\r\n11. Peacock Arrows: Large arrows, with peacocks\u2019 feathers.\r\n\r\n12. A nut-head: With nut-brown hair; or, round like a nut, the\r\nhair being cut short.\r\n\r\n13. Grey eyes appear to have been a mark of female beauty in\r\nChaucer\u2019s time.\r\n\r\n14. \u201cfor the mastery\u201d was applied to medicines in the sense of\r\n\u201csovereign\u201d as we now apply it to a remedy.\r\n\r\n15. It was fashionable to hang bells on horses\u2019 bridles.\r\n\r\n16. St. Benedict was the first founder of a spiritual order in the\r\nRoman church.  Maurus, abbot of Fulda from 822 to 842, did\r\nmuch to re-establish the discipline of the Benedictines on a true\r\nChristian basis.\r\n\r\n17. Wood: Mad, Scottish \u201cwud\u201d.  Felix says to Paul, \u201cToo\r\nmuch learning hath made thee mad\u201d.\r\n\r\n18. Limitour: A friar with licence or privilege to beg, or\r\nexercise other functions, within a certain district: as, \u201cthe\r\nlimitour of Holderness\u201d.\r\n\r\n19. Farme: rent; that is, he paid a premium for his licence to\r\nbeg.\r\n\r\n20. In principio:  the first words of Genesis and John, employed\r\nin some part of the mass.\r\n\r\n21. Lovedays: meetings appointed for friendly settlement of\r\ndifferences; the business was often followed by sports and\r\nfeasting.\r\n\r\n22. He would the sea were kept  for any thing: he would for\r\nanything that the sea were guarded. \u201cThe old subsidy of\r\ntonnage and poundage,\u201d says Tyrwhitt, \u201cwas given to the king\r\n\u2018pour la saufgarde et custodie del mer.\u2019 \u2014  for the safeguard and\r\nkeeping of the sea\u201d (12 E. IV. C.3).\r\n\r\n23. Middleburg, at the mouth of the Scheldt, in Holland;\r\nOrwell, a seaport in Essex.\r\n\r\n24. Shields: Crowns, so called from the shields stamped on\r\nthem; French, \u201cecu;\u201d Italian, \u201cscudo.\u201d\r\n\r\n25. Poor scholars at the universities used then to go about\r\nbegging for money to maintain them and their studies.\r\n\r\n26. Parvis: The portico of St. Paul\u2019s, which lawyers frequented\r\nto meet their clients.\r\n\r\n27. St Julian: The patron saint of hospitality, celebrated for\r\nsupplying his votaries with good lodging and good cheer.\r\n\r\n28. Mew: cage. The place behind Whitehall, where the king\u2019s\r\nhawks were  caged was called the Mews.\r\n\r\n29. Many a luce in stew: many a pike in his fish-pond; in those\r\nCatholic days, when much fish was eaten, no gentleman\u2019s\r\nmansion was complete without a \u201cstew\u201d.\r\n\r\n30. Countour:  Probably a steward or accountant in the county\r\ncourt.\r\n\r\n31. Vavasour: A landholder of consequence; holding of a duke,\r\nmarquis, or earl, and ranking below a baron.\r\n\r\n32. On the dais:  On the raised platform at the end of the hall,\r\nwhere sat at meat or in judgement those high in authority, rank\r\nor honour; in our days the worthy craftsmen might have been\r\ndescribed as \u201cgood platform men\u201d.\r\n\r\n33. To take precedence over all in going to the evening service\r\nof the Church, or to festival meetings, to which it was the\r\nfashion to carry rich cloaks or mantles against the home-\r\ncoming.\r\n\r\n34. The things the cook could make: \u201cmarchand tart\u201d,  some\r\nnow unknown ingredient used in cookery; \u201cgalingale,\u201d sweet or\r\nlong rooted cyprus; \u201cmortrewes\u201d, a rich soup made by stamping\r\nflesh in a mortar; \u201cBlanc manger\u201d, not what is now called\r\nblancmange; one part of it was the brawn of a capon.\r\n\r\n35. Lodemanage: pilotage, from Anglo-Saxon \u201cladman,\u201d a\r\nleader, guide, or pilot; hence \u201clodestar,\u201d \u201clodestone.\u201d\r\n\r\n36. The authors mentioned here were the chief medical text-\r\nbooks of the middle ages. The names of Galen and Hippocrates\r\nwere then usually spelt \u201cGallien\u201d and \u201cHypocras\u201d or \u201cYpocras\u201d.\r\n\r\n37. The west of England, especially around Bath, was the seat\r\nof the cloth-manufacture, as were Ypres and Ghent (Gaunt) in\r\nFlanders.\r\n\r\n38. Chaucer here satirises the fashion of the time, which piled\r\nbulky and heavy waddings on ladies\u2019 heads.\r\n\r\n39. Moist; here used in the sense of \u201cnew\u201d, as in Latin,\r\n\u201cmustum\u201d signifies new wine; and elsewhere Chaucer speaks of\r\n\u201cmoisty ale\u201d, as opposed to \u201cold\u201d.\r\n\r\n40. In Galice at Saint James: at the shrine of St Jago of\r\nCompostella in Spain.\r\n\r\n41. Gat-toothed: Buck-toothed; goat-toothed, to signify her\r\nwantonness; or gap-toothed \u2014 with gaps between her teeth.\r\n\r\n42. An endowment to sing masses for the soul of the donor.\r\n\r\n43. A ram was the usual prize at wrestling matches.\r\n\r\n44. Cop: Head; German, \u201cKopf\u201d.\r\n\r\n45. Nose-thirles: nostrils; from the Anglo-Saxon, \u201cthirlian,\u201d to\r\npierce; hence the word \u201cdrill,\u201d to bore.\r\n\r\n46. Goliardais: a babbler and a buffoon; Golias was the founder\r\nof a jovial sect called by his name.\r\n\r\n47. The proverb says that every honest miller has a thumb of\r\ngold; probably Chaucer means that this one was as honest as his\r\nbrethren.\r\n\r\n48. A Manciple \u2014 Latin, \u201cmanceps,\u201d a purchaser or contractor -\r\n- was an officer charged with the purchase of victuals for inns\r\nof court or colleges.\r\n\r\n49. Reeve: A land-steward; still called \u201cgrieve\u201d \u2014 Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cgerefa\u201d  in some parts of Scotland.\r\n\r\n50. Sompnour: summoner; an apparitor, who cited delinquents\r\nto appear in ecclesiastical courts.\r\n\r\n51. Questio quid juris: \u201cI ask which law (applies)\u201d; a cant law-\r\nLatin phrase.\r\n\r\n52 Harlot: a low, ribald fellow; the word was used of both\r\nsexes; it comes from the Anglo-Saxon verb to hire.\r\n\r\n53. Significavit: an ecclesiastical writ.\r\n\r\n54. Within his jurisdiction he had at his own pleasure the young\r\npeople (of both sexes) in the diocese.\r\n\r\n55. Pardoner: a seller of pardons or indulgences.\r\n\r\n56. Newe get:  new gait, or fashion; \u201cgait\u201d is still used in this\r\nsense in some parts of the country.\r\n\r\n57. Vernicle: an image of Christ; so called from St Veronica,\r\nwho gave the Saviour a napkin to wipe the sweat from  His face\r\nas He bore the Cross, and received it back with an impression\r\nof His countenance upon it.\r\n\r\n58. Mail: packet, baggage; French, \u201cmalle,\u201d a trunk.\r\n\r\n59. The Bell:  apparently another Southwark tavern; Stowe\r\nmentions a \u201cBull\u201d as being near the Tabard.\r\n\r\n60. Cheap: Cheapside, then inhabited by the richest and most\r\nprosperous citizens of London.\r\n\r\n61. Herberow: Lodging, inn; French, \u201cHerberge.\u201d\r\n\r\n62. The watering of Saint Thomas: At the second milestone on\r\nthe old Canterbury road.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE KNIGHT\u2019S TALE <1>\r\n\r\n\r\nWHILOM*, as olde stories tellen us,                            *formerly\r\nThere was a duke that highte* Theseus.                   *was called <2>\r\nOf Athens he was lord and governor,\r\nAnd in his time such a conqueror\r\nThat greater was there none under the sun.\r\nFull many a riche country had he won.\r\nWhat with his wisdom and his chivalry,\r\nHe conquer\u2019d all the regne of Feminie,<3>\r\nThat whilom was y-cleped Scythia;\r\nAnd weddede the Queen Hippolyta\r\nAnd brought her home with him to his country\r\nWith muchel* glory and great solemnity,                           *great\r\nAnd eke her younge sister Emily,\r\nAnd thus with vict\u2019ry and with melody\r\nLet I this worthy Duke to Athens ride,\r\nAnd all his host, in armes him beside.\r\n\r\nAnd certes, if it n\u2019ere* too long to hear,                     *were not\r\nI would have told you fully the mannere,\r\nHow wonnen* was the regne of Feminie, <4>                           *won\r\nBy Theseus, and by his chivalry;\r\nAnd of the greate battle for the nonce\r\nBetwixt Athenes and the Amazons;\r\nAnd how assieged was Hippolyta,\r\nThe faire hardy queen of Scythia;\r\nAnd of the feast that was at her wedding\r\nAnd of the tempest at her homecoming.\r\nBut all these things I must as now forbear.\r\nI have, God wot, a large field to ear*                       *plough<5>;\r\nAnd weake be the oxen in my plough;\r\nThe remnant of my tale is long enow.\r\nI will not *letten eke none of this rout*.                *hinder any of\r\nLet every fellow tell his tale about,                      this company*\r\nAnd let see now who shall the supper win.\r\nThere *as I left*, I will again begin.                *where I left off*\r\n\r\nThis Duke, of whom I make mentioun,\r\nWhen he was come almost unto the town,\r\nIn all his weal, and in his moste pride,\r\nHe was ware, as he cast his eye aside,\r\nWhere that there kneeled in the highe way\r\nA company of ladies, tway and tway,\r\nEach after other, clad in clothes black:\r\nBut such a cry and such a woe they make,\r\nThat in this world n\u2019is creature living,\r\nThat hearde such another waimenting*                      *lamenting <6>\r\nAnd of this crying would they never stenten*,                    *desist\r\nTill they the reines of his bridle henten*.                       *seize\r\n\u201cWhat folk be ye that at mine homecoming\r\nPerturben so my feaste with crying?\u201d\r\nQuoth Theseus; \u201cHave ye so great envy\r\nOf mine honour, that thus complain and cry?\r\nOr who hath you misboden*, or offended?                         *wronged\r\nDo telle me, if it may be amended;\r\nAnd why that ye be clad thus all in black?\u201d\r\n\r\nThe oldest lady of them all then spake,\r\nWhen she had swooned, with a deadly cheer*,                 *countenance\r\nThat it was ruthe* for to see or hear.                             *pity\r\nShe saide; \u201cLord, to whom fortune hath given\r\nVict\u2019ry, and as a conqueror to liven,\r\nNought grieveth us your glory and your honour;\r\nBut we beseechen mercy and succour.\r\nHave mercy on our woe and our distress;\r\nSome drop of pity, through thy gentleness,\r\nUpon us wretched women let now fall.\r\nFor certes, lord, there is none of us all\r\nThat hath not been a duchess or a queen;\r\nNow be we caitives*, as it is well seen:                       *captives\r\nThanked be Fortune, and her false wheel,\r\nThat *none estate ensureth to be wele*.       *assures no continuance of\r\nAnd certes, lord, t\u2019abiden your presence              prosperous estate*\r\nHere in this temple of the goddess Clemence\r\nWe have been waiting all this fortenight:\r\nNow help us, lord, since it lies in thy might.\r\n\r\n\u201cI, wretched wight, that weep and waile thus,\r\nWas whilom wife to king Capaneus,\r\nThat starf* at Thebes, cursed be that day:                     *died <7>\r\nAnd alle we that be in this array,\r\nAnd maken all this lamentatioun,\r\nWe losten all our husbands at that town,\r\nWhile that the siege thereabouten lay.\r\nAnd yet the olde Creon, wellaway!\r\nThat lord is now of Thebes the city,\r\nFulfilled of ire and of iniquity,\r\nHe for despite, and for his tyranny,\r\nTo do the deade bodies villainy*,                                *insult\r\nOf all our lorde\u2019s, which that been y-slaw,                       *slain\r\nHath all the bodies on an heap y-draw,\r\nAnd will not suffer them by none assent\r\nNeither to be y-buried, nor y-brent*,                             *burnt\r\nBut maketh houndes eat them in despite.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word, withoute more respite\r\nThey fallen groff,* and cryden piteously;                    *grovelling\r\n\u201cHave on us wretched women some mercy,\r\nAnd let our sorrow sinken in thine heart.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis gentle Duke down from his courser start\r\nWith hearte piteous, when he heard them speak.\r\nHim thoughte that his heart would all to-break,\r\nWhen he saw them so piteous and so mate*                         *abased\r\nThat whilom weren of so great estate.\r\nAnd in his armes he them all up hent*,                     *raised, took\r\nAnd them comforted in full good intent,\r\nAnd swore his oath, as he was true knight,\r\nHe woulde do *so farforthly his might*        *as far as his power went*\r\nUpon the tyrant Creon them to wreak*,                            *avenge\r\nThat all the people of Greece shoulde speak,\r\nHow Creon was of Theseus y-served,\r\nAs he that had his death full well deserved.\r\nAnd right anon withoute more abode*                               *delay\r\nHis banner he display\u2019d, and forth he rode\r\nTo Thebes-ward, and all his, host beside:\r\nNo ner* Athenes would he go nor ride,                            *nearer\r\nNor take his ease fully half a day,\r\nBut onward on his way that night he lay:\r\nAnd sent anon Hippolyta the queen,\r\nAnd Emily her younge sister sheen*                       *bright, lovely\r\nUnto the town of Athens for to dwell:\r\nAnd forth he rit*; there is no more to tell.                       *rode\r\n\r\nThe red statue of Mars with spear and targe*                     *shield\r\nSo shineth in his white banner large\r\nThat all the fieldes glitter up and down:\r\nAnd by his banner borne is his pennon\r\nOf gold full rich, in which there was y-beat*                   *stamped\r\nThe Minotaur<8> which that he slew in Crete\r\nThus rit this Duke, thus rit this conqueror\r\nAnd in his host of chivalry the flower,\r\nTill that he came to Thebes, and alight\r\nFair in a field, there as he thought to fight.\r\nBut shortly for to speaken of this thing,\r\nWith Creon, which that was of Thebes king,\r\nHe fought, and slew him manly as a knight\r\nIn plain bataille, and put his folk to flight:\r\nAnd by assault he won the city after,\r\nAnd rent adown both wall, and spar, and rafter;\r\nAnd to the ladies he restored again\r\nThe bodies of their husbands that were slain,\r\nTo do obsequies, as was then the guise*.                         *custom\r\n\r\nBut it were all too long for to devise*                        *describe\r\nThe greate clamour, and the waimenting*,                      *lamenting\r\nWhich that the ladies made at the brenning*                     *burning\r\nOf the bodies, and the great honour\r\nThat Theseus the noble conqueror\r\nDid to the ladies, when they from him went:\r\nBut shortly for to tell is mine intent.\r\nWhen that this worthy Duke, this Theseus,\r\nHad Creon slain, and wonnen Thebes thus,\r\nStill in the field he took all night his rest,\r\nAnd did with all the country as him lest*.                      *pleased\r\nTo ransack in the tas* of bodies dead,                             *heap\r\nThem for to strip of *harness and of **weed,           *armour **clothes\r\nThe pillers* did their business and cure,                 *pillagers <9>\r\nAfter the battle and discomfiture.\r\nAnd so befell, that in the tas they found,\r\nThrough girt with many a grievous bloody wound,\r\nTwo younge knightes *ligging by and by*             *lying side by side*\r\nBoth in *one armes*, wrought full richely:             *the same armour*\r\nOf whiche two, Arcita hight that one,\r\nAnd he that other highte Palamon.\r\nNot fully quick*, nor fully dead they were,                       *alive\r\nBut by their coat-armour, and by their gear,\r\nThe heralds knew them well in special,\r\nAs those that weren of the blood royal\r\nOf Thebes, and *of sistren two y-born*.            *born of two sisters*\r\nOut of the tas the pillers have them torn,\r\nAnd have them carried soft unto the tent\r\nOf Theseus, and he full soon them sent\r\nTo Athens, for to dwellen in prison\r\nPerpetually, he *n\u2019olde no ranson*.               *would take no ransom*\r\nAnd when this worthy Duke had thus y-done,\r\nHe took his host, and home he rit anon\r\nWith laurel crowned as a conquerour;\r\nAnd there he lived in joy and in honour\r\nTerm of his life; what needeth wordes mo\u2019?\r\nAnd in a tower, in anguish and in woe,\r\nDwellen this Palamon, and eke Arcite,\r\nFor evermore, there may no gold them quite*                    *set free\r\n\r\nThus passed year by year, and day by day,\r\nTill it fell ones in a morn of May\r\nThat Emily, that fairer was to seen\r\nThan is the lily upon his stalke green,\r\nAnd fresher than the May with flowers new\r\n(For with the rose colour strove her hue;\r\nI n\u2019ot* which was the finer of them two),                      *know not\r\nEre it was day, as she was wont to do,\r\nShe was arisen, and all ready dight*,                           *dressed\r\nFor May will have no sluggardy a-night;\r\nThe season pricketh every gentle heart,\r\nAnd maketh him out of his sleep to start,\r\nAnd saith, \u201cArise, and do thine observance.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis maketh Emily have remembrance\r\nTo do honour to May, and for to rise.\r\nY-clothed was she fresh for to devise;\r\nHer yellow hair was braided in a tress,\r\nBehind her back, a yarde long I guess.\r\nAnd in the garden at *the sun uprist*                           *sunrise\r\nShe walketh up and down where as her list.\r\nShe gathereth flowers, party* white and red,                    *mingled\r\nTo make a sotel* garland for her head,            *subtle, well-arranged\r\nAnd as an angel heavenly she sung.\r\nThe greate tower, that was so thick and strong,\r\nWhich of the castle was the chief dungeon<10>\r\n(Where as these knightes weren in prison,\r\nOf which I tolde you, and telle shall),\r\nWas even joinant* to the garden wall,                         *adjoining\r\nThere as this Emily had her playing.\r\n\r\nBright was the sun, and clear that morrowning,\r\nAnd Palamon, this woful prisoner,\r\nAs was his wont, by leave of his gaoler,\r\nWas ris\u2019n, and roamed in a chamber on high,\r\nIn which he all the noble city sigh*,                               *saw\r\nAnd eke the garden, full of branches green,\r\nThere as this fresh Emelia the sheen\r\nWas in her walk, and roamed up and down.\r\nThis sorrowful prisoner, this Palamon\r\nWent in his chamber roaming to and fro,\r\nAnd to himself complaining of his woe:\r\nThat he was born, full oft he said, Alas!\r\nAnd so befell, by aventure or cas*,                              *chance\r\nThat through a window thick of many a bar\r\nOf iron great, and square as any spar,\r\nHe cast his eyes upon Emelia,\r\nAnd therewithal he blent* and cried, Ah!                  *started aside\r\nAs though he stungen were unto the heart.\r\nAnd with that cry Arcite anon up start,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cCousin mine, what aileth thee,\r\nThat art so pale and deadly for to see?\r\nWhy cried\u2019st thou? who hath thee done offence?\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, take all in patience\r\nOur prison*, for it may none other be.                     *imprisonment\r\nFortune hath giv\u2019n us this adversity\u2019.\r\nSome wick\u2019* aspect or disposition                                *wicked\r\nOf Saturn<11>, by some constellation,\r\nHath giv\u2019n us this, although we had it sworn,\r\nSo stood the heaven when that we were born,\r\nWe must endure; this is the short and plain.\r\n\r\nThis Palamon answer\u2019d, and said again:\r\n\u201cCousin, forsooth of this opinion\r\nThou hast a vain imagination.\r\nThis prison caused me not for to cry;\r\nBut I was hurt right now thorough mine eye\r\nInto mine heart; that will my bane*  be.                    *destruction\r\nThe fairness of the lady that I see\r\nYond in the garden roaming to and fro,\r\nIs cause of all my crying and my woe.\r\nI *n\u2019ot wher* she be woman or goddess,                *know not whether*\r\nBut Venus is it, soothly* as I guess,                             *truly\r\nAnd therewithal on knees adown he fill,\r\nAnd saide: \u201cVenus, if it be your will\r\nYou in this garden thus to transfigure\r\nBefore me sorrowful wretched creature,\r\nOut of this prison help that we may scape.\r\nAnd if so be our destiny be shape\r\nBy etern word to dien in prison,\r\nOf our lineage have some compassion,\r\nThat is so low y-brought by tyranny.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word Arcita *gan espy*               *began to look forth*\r\nWhere as this lady roamed to and fro\r\nAnd with that sight her beauty hurt him so,\r\nThat if that Palamon was wounded sore,\r\nArcite is hurt as much as he, or more.\r\nAnd with a sigh he saide piteously:\r\n\u201cThe freshe beauty slay\u2019th me suddenly\r\nOf her that roameth yonder in the place.\r\nAnd but* I have her mercy and her grace,                         *unless\r\nThat I may see her at the leaste way,\r\nI am but dead; there is no more to say.\u201d\r\nThis Palamon, when he these wordes heard,\r\nDispiteously* he looked, and answer\u2019d:                          *angrily\r\n\u201cWhether say\u2019st thou this in earnest or in play?\u201d\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth Arcite, \u201cin earnest, by my fay*.                     *faith\r\nGod help me so, *me lust full ill to play*.\u201d          *I am in no humour\r\nThis Palamon gan knit his browes tway.                      for jesting*\r\n\u201cIt were,\u201d quoth he, \u201cto thee no great honour\r\nFor to be false, nor for to be traitour\r\nTo me, that am thy cousin and thy brother\r\nY-sworn full deep, and each of us to other,\r\nThat never for to dien in the pain <12>,\r\nTill that the death departen shall us twain,\r\nNeither of us in love to hinder other,\r\nNor in none other case, my leve* brother;                          *dear\r\nBut that thou shouldest truly farther me\r\nIn every case, as I should farther thee.\r\nThis was thine oath, and mine also certain;\r\nI wot it well, thou dar\u2019st it not withsayn*,                       *deny\r\nThus art thou of my counsel out of doubt,\r\nAnd now thou wouldest falsely be about\r\nTo love my lady, whom I love and serve,\r\nAnd ever shall, until mine hearte sterve*                           *die\r\nNow certes, false Arcite, thou shalt not so\r\nI lov\u2019d her first, and tolde thee my woe\r\nAs to my counsel, and my brother sworn\r\nTo farther me, as I have told beforn.\r\nFor which thou art y-bounden as a knight\r\nTo helpe me, if it lie in thy might,\r\nOr elles art thou false, I dare well sayn,\u201d\r\n\r\nThis Arcita full proudly spake again:\r\n\u201cThou shalt,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbe rather* false than I,                *sooner\r\nAnd thou art false, I tell thee utterly;\r\nFor par amour I lov\u2019d her first ere thou.\r\nWhat wilt thou say? *thou wist it not right now*          *even now thou\r\nWhether she be a woman or goddess.                          knowest not*\r\nThine is affection of holiness,\r\nAnd mine is love, as to a creature:\r\nFor which I tolde thee mine aventure\r\nAs to my cousin, and my brother sworn\r\nI pose*, that thou loved\u2019st her beforn:                         *suppose\r\nWost* thou not well the olde clerke\u2019s saw<13>,                  *know\u2019st\r\nThat who shall give a lover any law?\r\nLove is a greater lawe, by my pan,\r\nThan may be giv\u2019n to any earthly man:\r\nTherefore positive law, and such decree,\r\nIs broke alway for love in each degree\r\nA man must needes love, maugre his head.\r\nHe may not flee it, though he should be dead,\r\n*All be she* maid, or widow, or else wife.              *whether she be*\r\nAnd eke it is not likely all thy life\r\nTo standen in her grace, no more than I\r\nFor well thou wost thyselfe verily,\r\nThat thou and I be damned to prison\r\nPerpetual, us gaineth no ranson.\r\nWe strive, as did the houndes for the bone;\r\nThey fought all day, and yet their part was none.\r\nThere came a kite, while that they were so wroth,\r\nAnd bare away the bone betwixt them both.\r\nAnd therefore at the kinge\u2019s court, my brother,\r\nEach man for himselfe, there is no  other.\r\nLove if thee list; for I love and aye shall\r\nAnd soothly, leve brother, this is all.\r\nHere in this prison musten we endure,\r\nAnd each of us take his Aventure.\u201d\r\n\r\nGreat was the strife and long between these tway,\r\nIf that I hadde leisure for to say;\r\nBut to the effect: it happen\u2019d on a day\r\n(To tell it you as shortly as I may),\r\nA worthy duke that hight Perithous<14>\r\nThat fellow was to the Duke Theseus\r\nSince thilke* day that they were children lite**          *that **little\r\nWas come to Athens, his fellow to visite,\r\nAnd for to play, as he was wont to do;\r\nFor in this world he loved no man so;\r\nAnd he lov\u2019d him as tenderly again.\r\nSo well they lov\u2019d, as olde bookes sayn,\r\nThat when that one was dead, soothly to sayn,\r\nHis fellow went and sought him down in hell:\r\nBut of that story list me not to write.\r\nDuke Perithous loved well Arcite,\r\nAnd had him known at Thebes year by year:\r\nAnd finally at request and prayere\r\nOf Perithous, withoute ranson\r\nDuke Theseus him let out of prison,\r\nFreely to go, where him list over all,\r\nIn such a guise, as I you tellen shall\r\nThis was the forword*, plainly to indite,                       *promise\r\nBetwixte Theseus and him Arcite:\r\nThat if so were, that Arcite were y-found\r\nEver in his life, by day or night, one stound*               *moment<15>\r\nIn any country of this Theseus,\r\nAnd he were caught, it was accorded thus,\r\nThat with a sword he shoulde lose his head;\r\nThere was none other remedy nor rede*.                          *counsel\r\nBut took his leave, and homeward he him sped;\r\nLet him beware, his necke lieth *to wed*.                    *in pledge*\r\n\r\nHow great a sorrow suff\u2019reth now Arcite!\r\nThe death he feeleth through his hearte smite;\r\nHe weepeth, waileth, crieth piteously;\r\nTo slay himself he waiteth privily.\r\nHe said; \u201cAlas the day that I was born!\r\nNow is my prison worse than beforn:\r\n*Now is me shape* eternally to dwell                *it is fixed for me*\r\nNot in purgatory, but right in hell.\r\nAlas! that ever I knew Perithous.\r\nFor elles had I dwelt with Theseus\r\nY-fettered in his prison evermo\u2019.\r\nThen had I been in bliss, and not in woe.\r\nOnly the sight of her, whom that I serve,\r\nThough that I never may her grace deserve,\r\nWould have sufficed right enough for me.\r\nO deare cousin Palamon,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cThine is the vict\u2019ry of this aventure,\r\nFull blissfully in prison to endure:\r\nIn prison? nay certes, in paradise.\r\nWell hath fortune y-turned thee the dice,\r\nThat hast the sight of her, and I th\u2019 absence.\r\nFor possible is, since thou hast her presence,\r\nAnd art a knight, a worthy and an able,\r\nThat by some cas*, since fortune is changeable,                  *chance\r\nThou may\u2019st to thy desire sometime attain.\r\nBut I that am exiled, and barren\r\nOf alle grace, and in so great despair,\r\nThat there n\u2019is earthe, water, fire, nor air,\r\nNor creature, that of them maked is,\r\nThat may me helpe nor comfort in this,\r\nWell ought I *sterve in wanhope* and distress.          *die in despair*\r\nFarewell my life, my lust*, and my gladness.                   *pleasure\r\nAlas, *why plainen men so in commune       *why do men so often complain\r\nOf purveyance of God*, or of Fortune,              of God\u2019s providence?*\r\nThat giveth them full oft in many a guise\r\nWell better than they can themselves devise?\r\nSome man desireth for to have richess,\r\nThat cause is of his murder or great sickness.\r\nAnd some man would out of his prison fain,\r\nThat in his house is of his meinie* slain.                *servants <16>\r\nInfinite harmes be in this mattere.\r\nWe wot never what thing we pray for here.\r\nWe fare as he that drunk is as a mouse.\r\nA drunken man wot well he hath an house,\r\nBut he wot not which is the right way thither,\r\nAnd to a drunken man the way is slither*.                      *slippery\r\nAnd certes in this world so fare we.\r\nWe seeke fast after felicity,\r\nBut we go wrong full often truely.\r\nThus we may sayen all, and namely* I,                        *especially\r\nThat ween\u2019d*, and had a great opinion,                          *thought\r\nThat if I might escape from prison\r\nThen had I been in joy and perfect heal,\r\nWhere now I am exiled from my weal.\r\nSince that I may not see you, Emily,\r\nI am but dead; there is no remedy.\u201d\r\n\r\nUpon that other side, Palamon,\r\nWhen that he wist Arcita was agone,\r\nMuch sorrow maketh, that the greate tower\r\nResounded of his yelling and clamour\r\nThe pure* fetters on his shinnes great                        *very <17>\r\nWere of his bitter salte teares wet.\r\n\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201cArcita, cousin mine,\r\nOf all our strife, God wot, the fruit is thine.\r\nThou walkest now in Thebes at thy large,\r\nAnd of my woe thou *givest little charge*.          *takest little heed*\r\nThou mayst, since thou hast wisdom and manhead*,       *manhood, courage\r\nAssemble all the folk of our kindred,\r\nAnd make a war so sharp on this country\r\nThat by some aventure, or some treaty,\r\nThou mayst have her to lady and to wife,\r\nFor whom that I must needes lose my life.\r\nFor as by way of possibility,\r\nSince thou art at thy large, of prison free,\r\nAnd art a lord, great is thine avantage,\r\nMore than is mine, that sterve here in a cage.\r\nFor I must weep and wail, while that I live,\r\nWith all the woe that prison may me give,\r\nAnd eke with pain that love me gives also,\r\nThat doubles all my torment and my woe.\u201d\r\n\r\nTherewith the fire of jealousy upstart\r\nWithin his breast, and hent* him by the heart                    *seized\r\nSo woodly*, that he like was to behold                            *madly\r\nThe box-tree, or the ashes dead and cold.\r\nThen said; \u201cO cruel goddess, that govern\r\nThis world with binding of your word etern*                     *eternal\r\nAnd writen in the table of adamant\r\nYour parlement* and your eternal grant,                    *consultation\r\nWhat is mankind more *unto you y-hold*                  *by you esteemed\r\nThan is the sheep, that rouketh* in the fold!      *lie huddled together\r\nFor slain is man, right as another beast;\r\nAnd dwelleth eke in prison and arrest,\r\nAnd hath sickness, and great adversity,\r\nAnd oftentimes guilteless, pardie*                               *by God\r\nWhat governance is in your prescience,\r\nThat guilteless tormenteth innocence?\r\nAnd yet increaseth this all my penance,\r\nThat man is bounden to his observance\r\nFor Godde\u2019s  sake to *letten of his will*,         *restrain his desire*\r\nWhereas a beast may all his lust fulfil.\r\nAnd when a beast is dead, he hath no pain;\r\nBut man after his death must weep and plain,\r\nThough in this worlde he have care and woe:\r\nWithoute doubt it maye standen so.\r\n\u201cThe answer of this leave I to divines,\r\nBut well I wot, that in this world great pine* is;        *pain, trouble\r\nAlas! I see a serpent or a thief\r\nThat many a true man hath done mischief,\r\nGo at his large, and where him list may turn.\r\nBut I must be in prison through Saturn,\r\nAnd eke through Juno, jealous and eke wood*,                        *mad\r\nThat hath well nigh destroyed all the blood\r\nOf Thebes, with his waste walles wide.\r\nAnd Venus slay\u2019th me on that other side\r\nFor jealousy, and fear of him, Arcite.\u201d\r\n\r\nNow will I stent* of Palamon a lite**,                   *pause **little\r\nAnd let him in his prison stille dwell,\r\nAnd of Arcita forth I will you tell.\r\nThe summer passeth, and the nightes long\r\nIncrease double-wise the paines strong\r\nBoth of the lover and the prisonere.\r\nI n\u2019ot* which hath the wofuller mistere**.         *know not **condition\r\nFor, shortly for to say, this Palamon\r\nPerpetually is damned to prison,\r\nIn chaines and in fetters to be dead;\r\nAnd Arcite is exiled *on his head*                *on peril of his head*\r\nFor evermore as out of that country,\r\nNor never more he shall his lady see.\r\nYou lovers ask I now this question,<18>\r\nWho lieth the worse, Arcite or Palamon?\r\nThe one may see his lady day by day,\r\nBut in prison he dwelle must alway.\r\nThe other where him list may ride or go,\r\nBut see his lady shall he never mo\u2019.\r\nNow deem all as you liste, ye that can,\r\nFor I will tell you forth as I began.\r\n\r\nWhen that Arcite to Thebes comen was,\r\nFull oft a day he swelt*, and said, \u201cAlas!\u201d                     *fainted\r\nFor see this lady he shall never mo\u2019.\r\nAnd shortly to concluden all his woe,\r\nSo much sorrow had never creature\r\nThat is or shall be while the world may dure.\r\nHis sleep, his meat, his drink is *him byraft*,    *taken away from him*\r\nThat lean he wex*, and dry as any shaft.                         *became\r\nHis eyen hollow, grisly to behold,\r\nHis hue sallow, and pale as ashes cold,\r\nAnd solitary he was, ever alone,\r\nAnd wailing all the night, making his moan.\r\nAnd if he hearde song or instrument,\r\nThen would he weepen, he might not be stent*.                   *stopped\r\nSo feeble were his spirits, and so low,\r\nAnd changed so, that no man coulde know\r\nHis speech, neither his voice, though men it heard.\r\nAnd in his gear* for all the world he far\u2019d              *behaviour <19>\r\nNot only like the lovers\u2019 malady\r\nOf Eros, but rather y-like manie*                               *madness\r\nEngender\u2019d of humours melancholic,\r\nBefore his head in his cell fantastic.<20>\r\nAnd shortly turned was all upside down,\r\nBoth habit and eke dispositioun,\r\nOf him, this woful lover Dan* Arcite.                         *Lord <21>\r\nWhy should I all day of his woe indite?\r\nWhen he endured had a year or two\r\nThis cruel torment, and this pain and woe,\r\nAt Thebes, in his country, as I said,\r\nUpon a night in sleep as he him laid,\r\nHim thought how that the winged god Mercury\r\nBefore him stood, and bade him to be merry.\r\nHis sleepy yard* in hand he bare upright;                      *rod <22>\r\nA hat he wore upon his haires bright.\r\nArrayed was this god (as he took keep*)                          *notice\r\nAs he was when that Argus<23> took his sleep;\r\nAnd said him thus: \u201cTo Athens shalt thou wend*;                      *go\r\nThere is thee shapen* of thy woe an end.\u201d               *fixed, prepared\r\nAnd with that word Arcite woke and start.\r\n\u201cNow truely how sore that e\u2019er me smart,\u201d\r\nQuoth he, \u201cto Athens right now will I fare.\r\nNor for no dread of death shall I not spare\r\nTo see my lady that I love and serve;\r\nIn her presence *I recke not to sterve.*\u201d         *do not care if I die*\r\nAnd with that word he caught a great mirror,\r\nAnd saw that changed was all his colour,\r\nAnd saw his visage all in other kind.\r\nAnd right anon it ran him ill his mind,\r\nThat since his face was so disfigur\u2019d\r\nOf malady the which he had endur\u2019d,\r\nHe mighte well, if that he *bare him low,*      *lived in lowly fashion*\r\nLive in Athenes evermore unknow,\r\nAnd see his lady wellnigh day by day.\r\nAnd right anon he changed his array,\r\nAnd clad him as a poore labourer.\r\nAnd all alone, save only a squier,\r\nThat knew his privity* and all his cas**,             *secrets **fortune\r\nWhich was disguised poorly as he was,\r\nTo Athens is he gone the nexte*  way.                      *nearest <24>\r\nAnd to the court he went upon a day,\r\nAnd at the gate he proffer\u2019d his service,\r\nTo drudge and draw, what so men would devise*.                    *order\r\nAnd, shortly of this matter for to sayn,\r\nHe fell in office with a chamberlain,\r\nThe which that dwelling was with Emily.\r\nFor he was wise, and coulde soon espy\r\nOf every servant which that served her.\r\nWell could he hewe wood, and water bear,\r\nFor he was young and mighty for the nones*,                    *occasion\r\nAnd thereto he was strong and big of bones\r\nTo do that any wight can him devise.\r\n\r\nA year or two he was in this service,\r\nPage of the chamber of Emily the bright;\r\nAnd Philostrate he saide that he hight.\r\nBut half so well belov\u2019d a man as he\r\nNe was there never in court of his degree.\r\nHe was so gentle of conditioun,\r\nThat throughout all the court was his renown.\r\nThey saide that it were a charity\r\nThat Theseus would *enhance his degree*,           *elevate him in rank*\r\nAnd put him in some worshipful service,\r\nThere as he might his virtue exercise.\r\nAnd thus within a while his name sprung\r\nBoth of his deedes, and of his good tongue,\r\nThat Theseus hath taken him so near,\r\nThat of his chamber he hath made him squire,\r\nAnd gave him gold to maintain his degree;\r\nAnd eke men brought him out of his country\r\nFrom year to year full privily his rent.\r\nBut honestly and slyly* he it spent,              *discreetly, prudently\r\nThat no man wonder\u2019d how that he it had.\r\nAnd three year in this wise his life be lad*,                       *led\r\nAnd bare him so in peace and eke in werre*,                         *war\r\nThere was no man that Theseus had so derre*.                       *dear\r\nAnd in this blisse leave I now Arcite,\r\nAnd speak I will of Palamon a lite*.                             *little\r\n\r\nIn darkness horrible, and strong prison,\r\nThis seven year hath sitten Palamon,\r\nForpined*, what for love, and for distress.          *pined, wasted away\r\nWho feeleth double sorrow and heaviness\r\nBut Palamon? that love distraineth* so,                        *afflicts\r\nThat wood* out of his wits he went for woe,                         *mad\r\nAnd eke thereto he is a prisonere\r\nPerpetual, not only for a year.\r\nWho coulde rhyme in English properly\r\nHis martyrdom? forsooth*, it is not I;                            *truly\r\nTherefore I pass as lightly as I may.\r\nIt fell that in the seventh year, in May\r\nThe thirde night (as olde bookes sayn,\r\nThat all this story tellen more plain),\r\nWere it by a venture or destiny\r\n(As when a thing is shapen* it shall be),              *settled, decreed\r\nThat soon after the midnight, Palamon\r\nBy helping of a friend brake his prison,\r\nAnd fled the city fast as he might go,\r\nFor he had given drink his gaoler so\r\nOf a clary <25>, made of a certain wine,\r\nWith *narcotise and opie* of Thebes fine,          *narcotics and opium*\r\nThat all the night, though that men would him shake,\r\nThe gaoler slept, he mighte not awake:\r\nAnd thus he fled as fast as ever he may.\r\nThe night was short, and *faste by the day            *close at hand was\r\nThat needes cast he must himself to hide*.          the day during which\r\nAnd to a grove faste there beside       he must cast about, or contrive,\r\nWith dreadful foot then stalked Palamon.            to conceal himself.*\r\nFor shortly this was his opinion,\r\nThat in the grove he would him hide all day,\r\nAnd in the night then would he take his way\r\nTo Thebes-ward, his friendes for to pray\r\nOn Theseus to help him to warray*.                        *make war <26>\r\nAnd shortly either he would lose his life,\r\nOr winnen Emily unto his wife.\r\nThis is th\u2019 effect, and his intention plain.\r\n\r\nNow will I turn to Arcita again,\r\nThat little wist how nighe was his care,\r\nTill that Fortune had brought him in the snare.\r\nThe busy lark, the messenger of day,\r\nSaluteth in her song the morning gray;\r\nAnd fiery Phoebus riseth up so bright,\r\nThat all the orient laugheth at the sight,\r\nAnd with his streames* drieth in the greves**             *rays **groves\r\nThe silver droppes, hanging on the leaves;\r\nAnd Arcite, that is in the court royal\r\nWith Theseus, his squier principal,\r\nIs ris\u2019n, and looketh on the merry day.\r\nAnd for to do his observance to May,\r\nRemembering the point* of his desire,                            *object\r\nHe on his courser, starting as the fire,\r\nIs ridden to the fieldes him to play,\r\nOut of the court, were it a mile or tway.\r\nAnd to the grove, of which I have you told,\r\nBy a venture his way began to hold,\r\nTo make him a garland of the greves*,                            *groves\r\nWere it of woodbine, or of hawthorn leaves,\r\nAnd loud he sang against the sun so sheen*.              *shining bright\r\n\u201cO May, with all thy flowers and thy green,\r\nRight welcome be thou, faire freshe May,\r\nI hope that I some green here getten may.\u201d\r\nAnd from his courser*, with a lusty heart,                        *horse\r\nInto the grove full hastily he start,\r\nAnd in a path he roamed up and down,\r\nThere as by aventure this Palamon\r\nWas in a bush, that no man might him see,\r\nFor sore afeard of his death was he.\r\nNothing ne knew he that it was Arcite;\r\nGod wot he would have *trowed it full lite*.   *full little believed it*\r\nBut sooth is said, gone since full many years,\r\nThe field hath eyen*, and the wood hath ears,                      *eyes\r\nIt is full fair a man *to bear him even*,           *to be on his guard*\r\nFor all day meeten men at *unset steven*.          *unexpected time <27>\r\nFull little wot Arcite of his fellaw,\r\nThat was so nigh to hearken of his saw*,                 *saying, speech\r\nFor in the bush he sitteth now full still.\r\nWhen that Arcite had roamed all his fill,\r\nAnd *sungen all the roundel* lustily,           *sang the roundelay*<28>\r\nInto a study he fell suddenly,\r\nAs do those lovers in their *quainte gears*,              *odd fashions*\r\nNow in the crop*, and now down in the breres**, <29>           *tree-top\r\nNow up, now down, as bucket in a well.                          **briars\r\nRight as the Friday, soothly for to tell,\r\nNow shineth it, and now it raineth fast,\r\nRight so can geary* Venus overcast                            *changeful\r\nThe heartes of her folk, right as her day\r\nIs gearful*, right so changeth she array.                     *changeful\r\nSeldom is Friday all the weeke like.\r\nWhen Arcite had y-sung, he gan to sike*,                           *sigh\r\nAnd sat him down withouten any more:\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201cthe day that I was bore!\r\nHow longe, Juno, through thy cruelty\r\nWilt thou warrayen* Thebes the city?                            *torment\r\nAlas! y-brought is to confusion\r\nThe blood royal of Cadm\u2019 and Amphion:\r\nOf Cadmus, which that was the firste man,\r\nThat Thebes built, or first the town began,\r\nAnd of the city first was crowned king.\r\nOf his lineage am I, and his offspring\r\nBy very line, as of the stock royal;\r\nAnd now I am *so caitiff and so thrall*,         *wretched and enslaved*\r\nThat he that is my mortal enemy,\r\nI serve him as his squier poorely.\r\nAnd yet doth Juno me well more shame,\r\nFor I dare not beknow* mine owen name,                 *acknowledge <30>\r\nBut there as I was wont to hight Arcite,\r\nNow hight I Philostrate, not worth a mite.\r\nAlas! thou fell Mars, and alas! Juno,\r\nThus hath your ire our lineage all fordo*                *undone, ruined\r\nSave only me, and wretched Palamon,\r\nThat Theseus martyreth in prison.\r\nAnd over all this, to slay me utterly,\r\nLove hath his fiery dart so brenningly*                       *burningly\r\nY-sticked through my true careful heart,\r\nThat shapen was my death erst than my shert. <31>\r\nYe slay me with your eyen, Emily;\r\nYe be the cause wherefore that I die.\r\nOf all the remnant of mine other care\r\nNe set I not the *mountance of a tare*,               *value of a straw*\r\nSo that I could do aught to your pleasance.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word he fell down in a trance\r\nA longe time; and afterward upstart\r\nThis Palamon, that thought thorough his heart\r\nHe felt a cold sword suddenly to glide:\r\nFor ire he quoke*, no longer would he hide.                      *quaked\r\nAnd when that he had heard Arcite\u2019s tale,\r\nAs he were wood*, with face dead and pale,                          *mad\r\nHe start him up out of the bushes thick,\r\nAnd said: \u201cFalse Arcita, false traitor wick\u2019*,                   *wicked\r\nNow art thou hent*, that lov\u2019st my lady so,                      *caught\r\nFor whom that I have all this pain and woe,\r\nAnd art my blood, and to my counsel sworn,\r\nAs I full oft have told thee herebeforn,\r\nAnd hast bejaped* here Duke Theseus,             *deceived, imposed upon\r\nAnd falsely changed hast thy name thus;\r\nI will be dead, or elles thou shalt die.\r\nThou shalt not love my lady Emily,\r\nBut I will love her only and no mo\u2019;\r\nFor I am Palamon thy mortal foe.\r\nAnd though I have no weapon in this place,\r\nBut out of prison am astart* by grace,                          *escaped\r\nI dreade* not that either thou shalt die,                         *doubt\r\nOr else thou shalt not loven Emily.\r\nChoose which thou wilt, for thou shalt not astart.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis Arcite then, with full dispiteous* heart,                 *wrathful\r\nWhen he him knew, and had his tale heard,\r\nAs fierce as lion pulled out a swerd,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cBy God that sitt\u2019th above,\r\n*N\u2019ere it* that thou art sick, and wood for love,          *were it not*\r\nAnd eke that thou no weap\u2019n hast in this place,\r\nThou should\u2019st never out of this grove pace,\r\nThat thou ne shouldest dien of mine hand.\r\nFor I defy the surety and the band,\r\nWhich that thou sayest I have made to thee.\r\nWhat? very fool, think well that love is free;\r\nAnd I will love her maugre* all thy might.                      *despite\r\nBut, for thou art a worthy gentle knight,\r\nAnd *wilnest to darraine her by bataille*,             *will reclaim her\r\nHave here my troth, to-morrow I will not fail,                by combat*\r\nWithout weeting* of any other wight,                          *knowledge\r\nThat here I will be founden as a knight,\r\nAnd bringe harness* right enough for thee;              *armour and arms\r\nAnd choose the best, and leave the worst for me.\r\nAnd meat and drinke this night will I bring\r\nEnough for thee, and clothes for thy bedding.\r\nAnd if so be that thou my lady win,\r\nAnd slay me in this wood that I am in,\r\nThou may\u2019st well have thy lady as for me.\u201d\r\nThis Palamon answer\u2019d, \u201cI grant it thee.\u201d\r\nAnd thus they be departed till the morrow,\r\nWhen each of them hath *laid his faith to borrow*.   *pledged his faith*\r\n\r\nO Cupid, out of alle charity!\r\nO Regne* that wilt no fellow have with thee!                 *queen <32>\r\nFull sooth is said, that love nor lordeship\r\nWill not, *his thanks*, have any fellowship.             *thanks to him*\r\nWell finden that Arcite and Palamon.\r\nArcite is ridd anon unto the town,\r\nAnd on the morrow, ere it were daylight,\r\nFull privily two harness hath he dight*,                       *prepared\r\nBoth suffisant and meete to darraine*                           *contest\r\nThe battle in the field betwixt them twain.\r\nAnd on his horse, alone as he was born,\r\nHe carrieth all this harness him beforn;\r\nAnd in the grove, at time and place y-set,\r\nThis Arcite and this Palamon be met.\r\nThen change gan the colour of their face;\r\nRight as the hunter in the regne* of Thrace                     *kingdom\r\nThat standeth at a gappe with a spear\r\nWhen hunted is the lion or the bear,\r\nAnd heareth him come rushing in the greves*,                     *groves\r\nAnd breaking both the boughes and the leaves,\r\nThinketh, \u201cHere comes my mortal enemy,\r\nWithoute fail, he must be dead or I;\r\nFor either I must slay him at the gap;\r\nOr he must slay me, if that me mishap:\u201d\r\nSo fared they, in changing of their hue\r\n*As far as either of them other knew*.        *When they recognised each\r\nThere was no good day, and no saluting,                  other afar off*\r\nBut straight, withoute wordes rehearsing,\r\nEvereach of them holp to arm the other,\r\nAs friendly, as he were his owen brother.\r\nAnd after that, with sharpe speares strong\r\nThey foined* each at other wonder long.                          *thrust\r\nThou mightest weene*, that this Palamon                           *think\r\nIn fighting were as a wood* lion,                                   *mad\r\nAnd as a cruel tiger was Arcite:\r\nAs wilde boars gan they together smite,\r\nThat froth as white as foam, *for ire wood*.            *mad with anger*\r\nUp to the ancle fought they in their blood.\r\nAnd in this wise I let them fighting dwell,\r\nAnd forth I will of Theseus you tell.\r\n\r\nThe Destiny, minister general,\r\nThat executeth in the world o\u2019er all\r\nThe purveyance*, that God hath seen beforn;              *foreordination\r\nSo strong it is, that though the world had sworn\r\nThe contrary of a thing by yea or nay,\r\nYet some time it shall fallen on a day\r\nThat falleth not eft* in a thousand year.                         *again\r\nFor certainly our appetites here,\r\nBe it of war, or peace, or hate, or love,\r\nAll is this ruled by the sight* above.         *eye, intelligence, power\r\nThis mean I now by mighty Theseus,\r\nThat for to hunten is so desirous \u2014\r\nAnd namely* the greate hart in May \u2014                        *especially\r\nThat in his bed there dawneth him no day\r\nThat he n\u2019is clad, and ready for to ride\r\nWith hunt and horn, and houndes him beside.\r\nFor in his hunting hath he such delight,\r\nThat it is all his joy and appetite\r\nTo be himself the greate harte\u2019s bane*                      *destruction\r\nFor after Mars he serveth now Diane.\r\nClear was the day, as I have told ere this,\r\nAnd Theseus, with alle joy and bliss,\r\nWith his Hippolyta, the faire queen,\r\nAnd Emily, y-clothed all in green,\r\nOn hunting be they ridden royally.\r\nAnd to the grove, that stood there faste by,\r\nIn which there was an hart, as men him told,\r\nDuke Theseus the straighte way doth hold,\r\nAnd to the laund* he rideth him full right,                  *plain <33>\r\nThere was the hart y-wont to have his flight,\r\nAnd over a brook, and so forth on his way.\r\nThis Duke will have a course at him or tway\r\nWith houndes, such as him lust* to command.                     *pleased\r\nAnd when this Duke was come to the laund,\r\nUnder the sun he looked, and anon\r\nHe was ware of Arcite and Palamon,\r\nThat foughte breme*, as it were bulles two.                    *fiercely\r\nThe brighte swordes wente to and fro\r\nSo hideously, that with the leaste stroke\r\nIt seemed that it woulde fell an oak,\r\nBut what they were, nothing yet he wote*.                          *knew\r\nThis Duke his courser with his spurres smote,\r\n*And at a start* he was betwixt them two,                     *suddenly*\r\nAnd pulled out a sword and cried, \u201cHo!\r\nNo more, on pain of losing of your head.\r\nBy mighty Mars, he shall anon be dead\r\nThat smiteth any stroke, that I may see!\r\nBut tell to me what mister* men ye be,                *manner, kind <34>\r\nThat be so hardy for to fighte here\r\nWithoute judge or other officer,\r\nAs though it were in listes royally. <35>\r\nThis Palamon answered hastily,\r\nAnd saide: \u201cSir, what needeth wordes mo\u2019?\r\nWe have the death deserved bothe two,\r\nTwo woful wretches be we, and caitives,\r\nThat be accumbered* of our own lives,                          *burdened\r\nAnd as thou art a rightful lord and judge,\r\nSo give us neither mercy nor refuge.\r\nAnd slay me first, for sainte charity,\r\nBut slay my fellow eke as well as me.\r\nOr slay him first; for, though thou know it lite*,               *little\r\nThis is thy mortal foe, this is Arcite\r\nThat from thy land is banisht on his head,\r\nFor which he hath deserved to be dead.\r\nFor this is he that came unto thy gate\r\nAnd saide, that he highte Philostrate.\r\nThus hath he japed* thee full many year,                       *deceived\r\nAnd thou hast made of him thy chief esquier;\r\nAnd this is he, that loveth Emily.\r\nFor since the day is come that I shall die\r\nI make pleinly* my confession,                      *fully, unreservedly\r\nThat I am thilke* woful Palamon,                         *that same <36>\r\nThat hath thy prison broken wickedly.\r\nI am thy mortal foe, and it am I\r\nThat so hot loveth Emily the bright,\r\nThat I would die here present in her sight.\r\nTherefore I aske death and my jewise*.                        *judgement\r\nBut slay my fellow eke in the same wise,\r\nFor both we have deserved to be slain.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis worthy Duke answer\u2019d anon again,\r\nAnd said, \u201cThis is a short conclusion.\r\nYour own mouth, by your own confession\r\nHath damned you, and I will it record;\r\nIt needeth not to pain you with the cord;\r\nYe shall be dead, by mighty Mars the Red.<37>\r\n\r\nThe queen anon for very womanhead\r\nBegan to weep, and so did Emily,\r\nAnd all the ladies in the company.\r\nGreat pity was it as it thought them all,\r\nThat ever such a chance should befall,\r\nFor gentle men they were, of great estate,\r\nAnd nothing but for love was this debate\r\nThey saw their bloody woundes wide and sore,\r\nAnd cried all at once, both less and more,\r\n\u201cHave mercy, Lord, upon us women all.\u201d\r\nAnd on their bare knees adown they fall\r\nAnd would have kissed his feet there as he stood,\r\nTill at the last *aslaked was his mood*                   *his anger was\r\n(For pity runneth soon in gentle heart);                       appeased*\r\nAnd though at first for ire he quoke and start\r\nHe hath consider\u2019d shortly in a clause\r\nThe trespass of them both, and eke the cause:\r\nAnd although that his ire their guilt accused\r\nYet in his reason he them both excused;\r\nAs thus; he thoughte well that every man\r\nWill help himself in love if that he can,\r\nAnd eke deliver himself out of prison.\r\nOf women, for they wepten ever-in-one:*                     *continually\r\nAnd eke his hearte had compassion\r\nAnd in his gentle heart he thought anon,\r\nAnd soft unto himself he saide: \u201cFie\r\nUpon a lord that will have no mercy,\r\nBut be a lion both in word and deed,\r\nTo them that be in repentance and dread,\r\nAs well as-to a proud dispiteous* man                         *unpitying\r\nThat will maintaine what he first began.\r\nThat lord hath little of discretion,\r\nThat in such case *can no division*:           *can make no distinction*\r\nBut weigheth pride and humbless *after one*.\u201d                    *alike*\r\nAnd shortly, when his ire is thus agone,\r\nHe gan to look on them with eyen light*,               *gentle, lenient*\r\nAnd spake these same wordes *all on height.*                     *aloud*\r\n\r\n\u201cThe god of love, ah! benedicite*,                         *bless ye him\r\nHow mighty and how great a lord is he!\r\nAgainst his might there gaine* none obstacles,           *avail, conquer\r\nHe may be called a god for his miracles\r\nFor he can maken at his owen guise\r\nOf every heart, as that him list devise.\r\nLo here this Arcite, and this Palamon,\r\nThat quietly were out of my prison,\r\nAnd might have lived in Thebes royally,\r\nAnd weet* I am their mortal enemy,                                 *knew\r\nAnd that their death li\u2019th in my might also,\r\nAnd yet hath love, *maugre their eyen two*,     *in spite of their eyes*\r\nY-brought them hither bothe for to die.\r\nNow look ye, is not this an high folly?\r\nWho may not be a fool, if but he love?\r\nBehold, for Godde\u2019s sake that sits above,\r\nSee how they bleed! be they not well array\u2019d?\r\nThus hath their lord, the god of love, them paid\r\nTheir wages and their fees for their service;\r\nAnd yet they weene for to be full wise,\r\nThat serve love, for aught that may befall.\r\nBut this is yet the beste game* of all,                            *joke\r\nThat she, for whom they have this jealousy,\r\nCan them therefor as muchel thank as me.\r\nShe wot no more of all this *hote fare*,                 *hot behaviour*\r\nBy God, than wot a cuckoo or an hare.\r\nBut all must be assayed hot or cold;\r\nA man must be a fool, or young or old;\r\nI wot it by myself *full yore agone*:                   *long years ago*\r\nFor in my time a servant was I one.\r\nAnd therefore since I know of love\u2019s pain,\r\nAnd wot how sore it can a man distrain*,                       *distress\r\nAs he that oft hath been caught in his last*,                *snare <38>\r\nI you forgive wholly this trespass,\r\nAt request of the queen that kneeleth here,\r\nAnd eke of Emily, my sister dear.\r\nAnd ye shall both anon unto me swear,\r\nThat never more ye shall my country dere*                        *injure\r\nNor make war upon me night nor day,\r\nBut be my friends in alle that ye may.\r\nI you forgive this trespass *every deal*.                   *completely*\r\nAnd they him sware *his asking* fair and well,           *what he asked*\r\nAnd him of lordship and of mercy pray\u2019d,\r\nAnd he them granted grace, and thus he said:\r\n\r\n\u201cTo speak of royal lineage and richess,\r\nThough that she were a queen or a princess,\r\nEach of you both is worthy doubteless\r\nTo wedde when time is; but natheless\r\nI speak as for my sister Emily,\r\nFor whom ye have this strife and jealousy,\r\nYe wot* yourselves, she may not wed the two                        *know\r\nAt once, although ye fight for evermo:\r\nBut one of you, *all be him loth or lief,*    *whether or not he wishes*\r\nHe must *go pipe into an ivy leaf*:                       *\u201cgo whistle\u201d*\r\nThis is to say, she may not have you both,\r\nAll be ye never so jealous, nor so wroth.\r\nAnd therefore I you put in this degree,\r\nThat each of you shall have his destiny\r\nAs *him is shape*; and hearken in what wise      *as is decreed for him*\r\nLo hear your end of that I shall devise.\r\nMy will is this, for plain conclusion\r\nWithouten any replication*,                                       *reply\r\nIf that you liketh, take it for the best,\r\nThat evereach of you shall go where *him lest*,              *he pleases\r\nFreely without ransom or danger;\r\nAnd this day fifty weekes, *farre ne nerre*,     *neither more nor less*\r\nEvereach of you shall bring an hundred knights,\r\nArmed for listes up at alle rights\r\nAll ready to darraine* her by bataille,                     *contend for\r\nAnd this behete* I you withoute fail                            *promise\r\nUpon my troth, and as I am a knight,\r\nThat whether of you bothe that hath might,\r\nThat is to say, that whether he or thou\r\nMay with his hundred, as I spake of now,\r\nSlay his contrary, or out of listes drive,\r\nHim shall I given Emily to wive,\r\nTo whom that fortune gives so fair a grace.\r\nThe listes shall I make here in this place.\r\n*And God so wisly on my soule rue*,              *may God as surely have\r\nAs I shall even judge be and true.                     mercy on my soul*\r\nYe shall none other ende with me maken\r\nThan one of you shalle be dead or taken.\r\nAnd if you thinketh this is well y-said,\r\nSay your advice*, and hold yourselves apaid**.      *opinion **satisfied\r\nThis is your end, and your conclusion.\u201d\r\nWho looketh lightly now but Palamon?\r\nWho springeth up for joye but Arcite?\r\nWho could it tell, or who could it indite,\r\nThe joye that is maked in the place\r\nWhen Theseus hath done so fair a grace?\r\nBut down on knees went every *manner wight*,            *kind of person*\r\nAnd thanked him with all their heartes\u2019 might,\r\nAnd namely* these Thebans *ofte sithe*.         *especially *oftentimes*\r\nAnd thus with good hope and with hearte blithe\r\nThey take their leave, and homeward gan they ride\r\nTo Thebes-ward, with his old walles wide.\r\n\r\nI trow men woulde deem it negligence,\r\nIf I forgot to telle the dispence*                          *expenditure\r\nOf Theseus, that went so busily\r\nTo maken up the listes royally,\r\nThat such a noble theatre as it was,\r\nI dare well say, in all this world there n\u2019as*.                 *was not\r\nThe circuit a mile was about,\r\nWalled of stone, and ditched all without.\r\n*Round was the shape, in manner of compass,\r\nFull of degrees, the height of sixty pas*               *see note  <39>*\r\nThat when a man was set on one degree\r\nHe letted* not his fellow for to see.                          *hindered\r\nEastward there stood a gate of marble white,\r\nWestward right such another opposite.\r\nAnd, shortly to conclude, such a place\r\nWas never on earth made in so little space,\r\nFor in the land there was no craftes-man,\r\nThat geometry or arsmetrike* can**,                   *arithmetic **knew\r\nNor pourtrayor*, nor carver of images,                 *portrait painter\r\nThat Theseus ne gave him meat and wages\r\nThe theatre to make and to devise.\r\nAnd for to do his rite and sacrifice\r\nHe eastward hath upon the gate above,\r\nIn worship of Venus, goddess of love,\r\n*Done make* an altar and an oratory;                 *caused to be made*\r\nAnd westward, in the mind and in memory\r\nOf Mars, he maked hath right such another,\r\nThat coste largely of gold a fother*.                    *a great amount\r\nAnd northward, in a turret on the wall,\r\nOf alabaster white and red coral\r\nAn oratory riche for to see,\r\nIn worship of Diane of chastity,\r\nHath Theseus done work in noble wise.\r\nBut yet had I forgotten to devise*                             *describe\r\nThe noble carving, and the portraitures,\r\nThe shape, the countenance of the figures\r\nThat weren in there oratories three.\r\n\r\nFirst in the temple of Venus may\u2019st thou see\r\nWrought on the wall,  full piteous to behold,\r\nThe broken sleepes, and the sikes* cold,                         *sighes\r\nThe sacred teares, and the waimentings*,                     *lamentings\r\nThe fiery strokes of the desirings,\r\nThat Love\u2019s servants in this life endure;\r\nThe oathes, that their covenants assure.\r\nPleasance and Hope, Desire, Foolhardiness,\r\nBeauty and Youth, and Bawdry and Richess,\r\nCharms and Sorc\u2019ry, Leasings* and Flattery,                  *falsehoods\r\nDispence, Business, and Jealousy,\r\nThat wore of yellow goldes* a garland,                  *sunflowers <40>\r\nAnd had a cuckoo sitting on her hand,\r\nFeasts, instruments, and caroles and dances,\r\nLust and array, and all the circumstances\r\nOf Love, which I reckon\u2019d and reckon shall\r\nIn order, were painted on the wall,\r\nAnd more than I can make of mention.\r\nFor soothly all the mount of Citheron,<41>\r\nWhere Venus hath her principal dwelling,\r\nWas showed on the wall in pourtraying,\r\nWith all the garden, and the lustiness*.                   *pleasantness\r\nNor was forgot the porter Idleness,\r\nNor Narcissus the fair of *yore agone*,                    *olden times*\r\nNor yet the folly of King Solomon,\r\nNor yet the greate strength of Hercules,\r\nTh\u2019 enchantments of Medea and Circes,\r\nNor of Turnus the hardy fierce courage,\r\nThe rich Croesus *caitif in servage.* <42>         *abased into slavery*\r\nThus may ye see, that wisdom nor richess,\r\nBeauty, nor sleight, nor strength, nor hardiness\r\nNe may with Venus holde champartie*,            *divided possession <43>\r\nFor as her liste the world may she gie*.                          *guide\r\nLo, all these folk so caught were in her las*                     *snare\r\nTill they for woe full often said, Alas!\r\nSuffice these ensamples one or two,\r\nAlthough I could reckon a thousand mo\u2019.\r\n\r\nThe statue of Venus, glorious to see\r\nWas naked floating in the large sea,\r\nAnd from the navel down all cover\u2019d was\r\nWith waves green, and bright as any glass.\r\nA citole <44> in her right hand hadde she,\r\nAnd on her head, full seemly for to see,\r\nA rose garland fresh, and well smelling,\r\nAbove her head her doves flickering\r\nBefore her stood her sone Cupido,\r\nUpon his shoulders winges had he two;\r\nAnd blind he was, as it is often seen;\r\nA bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen.\r\n\r\nWhy should I not as well eke tell you all\r\nThe portraiture, that was upon the wall\r\nWithin the temple of mighty Mars the Red?\r\nAll painted was the wall in length and brede*                   *breadth\r\nLike to the estres* of the grisly place               *interior chambers\r\nThat hight the great temple of Mars in Thrace,\r\nIn thilke* cold and frosty region,                                 *that\r\nThere as Mars hath his sovereign mansion.\r\nIn which there dwelled neither man nor beast,\r\nWith knotty gnarry* barren trees old                            *gnarled\r\nOf stubbes sharp and hideous to behold;\r\nIn which there ran a rumble and a sough*,                *groaning noise\r\nAs though a storm should bursten every bough:\r\nAnd downward from an hill under a bent*                           *slope\r\nThere stood the temple of Mars Armipotent,\r\nWrought all of burnish\u2019d steel, of which th\u2019 entry\r\nWas long and strait, and ghastly for to see.\r\nAnd thereout came *a rage and such a vise*,       *such a furious voice*\r\nThat it made all the gates for to rise.\r\nThe northern light in at the doore shone,\r\nFor window on the walle was there none\r\nThrough which men mighten any light discern.\r\nThe doors were all of adamant etern,\r\nY-clenched *overthwart and ende-long*         *crossways and lengthways*\r\nWith iron tough, and, for to make it strong,\r\nEvery pillar the temple to sustain\r\nWas tunne-great*, of iron bright and sheen.     *thick as a tun (barrel)\r\nThere saw I first the dark imagining\r\nOf felony, and all the compassing;\r\nThe cruel ire, as red as any glede*,                          *live coal\r\nThe picke-purse<45>, and eke the pale dread;\r\nThe smiler with the knife under the cloak,\r\nThe shepen* burning with the blacke smoke                   *stable <46>\r\nThe treason of the murd\u2019ring in the bed,\r\nThe open war, with woundes all be-bled;\r\nConteke* with bloody knife, and sharp menace.       *contention, discord\r\nAll full of chirking* was that sorry place.     *creaking, jarring noise\r\nThe slayer of himself eke saw I there,\r\nHis hearte-blood had bathed all his hair:\r\nThe nail y-driven in the shode* at night,         *hair of the head <47>\r\nThe colde death, with mouth gaping upright.\r\nAmiddes of the temple sat Mischance,\r\nWith discomfort and sorry countenance;\r\nEke saw I Woodness* laughing in his rage,                       *Madness\r\nArmed Complaint, Outhees*, and fierce Outrage;                   *Outcry\r\nThe carrain* in the bush, with throat y-corve**,       *corpse **slashed\r\nA thousand slain, and not *of qualm y-storve*;        *dead of sickness*\r\nThe tyrant, with the prey by force y-reft;\r\nThe town destroy\u2019d, that there was nothing left.\r\nYet saw I brent* the shippes hoppesteres, <48>                    *burnt\r\nThe hunter strangled with the wilde bears:\r\nThe sow freting* the child right in the cradle;          *devouring <49>\r\nThe cook scalded, for all his longe ladle.\r\nNor was forgot, *by th\u2019infortune of Mart*        *through the misfortune\r\nThe carter overridden with his cart;                             of war*\r\nUnder the wheel full low he lay adown.\r\nThere were also of Mars\u2019 division,\r\nThe armourer, the bowyer*, and the smith,                 *maker of bows\r\nThat forgeth sharp swordes on his stith*.                         *anvil\r\nAnd all above depainted in a tower\r\nSaw I Conquest, sitting in great honour,\r\nWith thilke* sharpe sword over his head                            *that\r\nHanging by a subtle y-twined thread.\r\nPainted the slaughter was of Julius<50>,\r\nOf cruel Nero, and Antonius:\r\nAlthough at that time they were yet unborn,\r\nYet was their death depainted there beforn,\r\nBy menacing of Mars, right by figure,\r\nSo was it showed in that portraiture,\r\nAs is depainted in the stars above,\r\nWho shall be slain, or elles dead for love.\r\nSufficeth one ensample in stories old,\r\nI may not reckon them all, though I wo\u2019ld.\r\n\r\nThe statue of Mars upon a carte* stood                          *chariot\r\nArmed, and looked grim as he were wood*,                            *mad\r\nAnd over his head there shone two figures\r\nOf starres, that be cleped in scriptures,\r\nThat one Puella, that other Rubeus. <51>\r\nThis god of armes was arrayed thus:\r\nA wolf there stood before him at his feet\r\nWith eyen red, and of a man he eat:\r\nWith subtle pencil painted was this story,\r\nIn redouting* of Mars and of his glory.                 *reverance, fear\r\n\r\nNow to the temple of Dian the chaste\r\nAs shortly as I can I will me haste,\r\nTo telle you all the descriptioun.\r\nDepainted be the walles up and down\r\nOf hunting and of shamefast chastity.\r\nThere saw I how woful Calistope,<52>\r\nWhen that Dian aggrieved was with her,\r\nWas turned from a woman to a bear,\r\nAnd after was she made the lodestar*:                         *pole star\r\nThus was it painted, I can say no far*;                         *farther\r\nHer son is eke a star as men may see.\r\nThere saw I Dane <53> turn\u2019d into a tree,\r\nI meane not the goddess Diane,\r\nBut Peneus\u2019 daughter, which that hight Dane.\r\nThere saw I Actaeon an hart y-maked*,                              *made\r\nFor vengeance that he saw Dian all naked:\r\nI saw how that his houndes have him caught,\r\nAnd freten* him, for that they knew him not.                     *devour\r\nYet painted was, a little farthermore\r\nHow Atalanta hunted the wild boar;\r\nAnd Meleager, and many other mo\u2019,\r\nFor which Diana wrought them care and woe.\r\nThere saw I many another wondrous story,\r\nThe which me list not drawen to memory.\r\nThis goddess on an hart full high was set*,                      *seated\r\nWith smalle houndes all about her feet,\r\nAnd underneath her feet she had a moon,\r\nWaxing it was, and shoulde wane soon.\r\nIn gaudy green her statue clothed was,\r\nWith bow in hand, and arrows in a case*.                         *quiver\r\nHer eyen caste she full low adown,\r\nWhere Pluto hath his darke regioun.\r\nA woman travailing was her beforn,\r\nBut, for her child so longe was unborn,\r\nFull piteously Lucina <54> gan she call,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cHelp, for thou may\u2019st best of all.\u201d\r\nWell could he painte lifelike that it wrought;\r\nWith many a florin he the hues had bought.\r\nNow be these listes made, and Theseus,\r\nThat at his greate cost arrayed thus\r\nThe temples, and the theatre every deal*,                     *part <55>\r\nWhen it was done, him liked wonder well.\r\n\r\nBut stint* I will of Theseus a lite**,          *cease speaking **little\r\nAnd speak of Palamon and of Arcite.\r\nThe day approacheth of their returning,\r\nThat evereach an hundred knights should bring,\r\nThe battle to darraine* as I you told;                          *contest\r\nAnd to Athens, their covenant to hold,\r\nHath ev\u2019reach of them brought an hundred knights,\r\nWell-armed for the war at alle rights.\r\nAnd sickerly* there trowed** many a man,         *surely <56> **believed\r\nThat never, sithen* that the world began,                         *since\r\nFor to speaken of knighthood of their hand,\r\nAs far as God hath maked sea and land,\r\nWas, of so few, so noble a company.\r\nFor every wight that loved chivalry,\r\nAnd would, *his thankes, have a passant name*,        *thanks to his own\r\nHad prayed, that he might be of that game,               efforts, have a\r\nAnd well was him, that thereto chosen was.              surpassing name*\r\nFor if there fell to-morrow such a case,\r\nYe knowe well, that every lusty knight,\r\nThat loveth par amour, and hath his might\r\nWere it in Engleland, or elleswhere,\r\nThey would, their thankes, willen to be there,\r\nT\u2019 fight for a lady; Benedicite,\r\nIt were a lusty* sighte for to see.                            *pleasing\r\nAnd right so fared they with Palamon;\r\nWith him there wente knightes many one.\r\nSome will be armed in an habergeon,\r\nAnd in a breast-plate, and in a gipon*;                  *short doublet.\r\nAnd some will have *a pair of plates* large;     *back and front armour*\r\nAnd some will have a Prusse* shield, or targe;                 *Prussian\r\nSome will be armed on their legges weel;\r\nSome have an axe, and some a mace of steel.\r\nThere is no newe guise*, but it was old.                        *fashion\r\nArmed they weren, as I have you told,\r\nEvereach after his opinion.\r\nThere may\u2019st thou see coming with Palamon\r\nLicurgus himself, the great king of Thrace:\r\nBlack was his beard, and manly was his face.\r\nThe circles of his eyen in his head\r\nThey glowed betwixte yellow and red,\r\nAnd like a griffin looked he about,\r\nWith kemped* haires on his browes stout;                     *combed<57>\r\nHis limbs were great, his brawns were hard and strong,\r\nHis shoulders broad, his armes round and long.\r\nAnd as the guise* was in his country,                           *fashion\r\nFull high upon a car of gold stood he,\r\nWith foure white bulles in the trace.\r\nInstead of coat-armour on his harness,\r\nWith yellow nails, and bright as any gold,\r\nHe had a beare\u2019s skin, coal-black for old*.                         *age\r\nHis long hair was y-kempt behind his back,\r\nAs any raven\u2019s feather it shone for black.\r\nA wreath of gold *arm-great*, of huge weight,     *thick as a man\u2019s arm*\r\nUpon his head sate, full of stones bright,\r\nOf fine rubies and clear diamants.\r\nAbout his car there wente white alauns*,                *greyhounds <58>\r\nTwenty and more, as great as any steer,\r\nTo hunt the lion or the wilde bear,\r\nAnd follow\u2019d him, with muzzle fast y-bound,\r\nCollars of gold, and torettes* filed round.                       *rings\r\nAn hundred lordes had he in his rout*                           *retinue\r\nArmed full well, with heartes stern and stout.\r\n\r\nWith Arcita, in stories as men find,\r\nThe great Emetrius the king of Ind,\r\nUpon a *steede bay* trapped in steel,                        *bay horse*\r\nCover\u2019d with cloth of gold diapred* well,                     *decorated\r\nCame riding like the god of armes, Mars.\r\nHis coat-armour was of *a cloth of Tars*,               *a kind of silk*\r\nCouched* with pearls white and round and great                  *trimmed\r\nHis saddle was of burnish\u2019d gold new beat;\r\nA mantelet on his shoulders hanging,\r\nBretful* of rubies red, as fire sparkling.                      *brimful\r\nHis crispe hair like ringes was y-run,\r\nAnd that was yellow, glittering as the sun.\r\nHis nose was high, his eyen bright citrine*,                *pale yellow\r\nHis lips were round, his colour was sanguine,\r\nA fewe fracknes* in his face y-sprent**,           *freckles **sprinkled\r\nBetwixte yellow and black somedeal y-ment*                   *mixed <59>\r\nAnd as a lion he *his looking cast*                *cast about his eyes*\r\nOf five and twenty year his age I cast*                          *reckon\r\nHis beard was well begunnen for to spring;\r\nHis voice was as a trumpet thundering.\r\nUpon his head he wore of laurel green\r\nA garland fresh and lusty to be seen;\r\nUpon his hand he bare, for his delight,\r\nAn eagle tame, as any lily white.\r\nAn hundred lordes had he with him there,\r\nAll armed, save their heads, in all their gear,\r\nFull richely in alle manner things.\r\nFor trust ye well, that earles, dukes, and kings\r\nWere gather\u2019d in this noble company,\r\nFor love, and for increase of chivalry.\r\nAbout this king there ran on every part\r\nFull many a tame lion and leopart.\r\nAnd in this wise these lordes *all and some*            *all and sundry*\r\nBe on the Sunday to the city come\r\nAboute prime<60>, and in the town alight.\r\n\r\nThis Theseus, this Duke, this worthy knight\r\nWhen he had brought them into his city,\r\nAnd inned* them, ev\u2019reach at his degree,                         *lodged\r\nHe feasteth them, and doth so great labour\r\nTo *easen them*, and do them all honour,         *make them comfortable*\r\nThat yet men weene* that no mannes wit                            *think\r\nOf none estate could amenden* it.                               *improve\r\nThe minstrelsy, the service at the feast,\r\nThe greate giftes to the most and least,\r\nThe rich array of Theseus\u2019 palace,\r\nNor who sate first or last upon the dais.<61>\r\nWhat ladies fairest be, or best dancing\r\nOr which of them can carol best or sing,\r\nOr who most feelingly speaketh of love;\r\nWhat hawkes sitten on the perch above,\r\nWhat houndes liggen* on the floor adown,                            *lie\r\nOf all this now make I no mentioun\r\nBut of th\u2019effect; that thinketh me the best\r\nNow comes the point, and hearken if you lest.*                   *please\r\n\r\nThe Sunday night, ere day began to spring,\r\nWhen Palamon the larke hearde sing,\r\nAlthough it were not day by houres two,\r\nYet sang the lark, and Palamon right tho*                          *then\r\nWith holy heart, and with an high courage,\r\nArose, to wenden* on his pilgrimage                                  *go\r\nUnto the blissful Cithera benign,\r\nI meane Venus, honourable and digne*.                            *worthy\r\nAnd in her hour <62> he walketh forth a pace\r\nUnto the listes, where her temple was,\r\nAnd down he kneeleth, and with humble cheer*                  *demeanour\r\nAnd hearte sore, he said as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cFairest of fair, O lady mine Venus,\r\nDaughter to Jove, and spouse of Vulcanus,\r\nThou gladder of the mount of Citheron!<41>\r\nFor thilke love thou haddest to Adon <63>\r\nHave pity on my bitter teares smart,\r\nAnd take mine humble prayer to thine heart.\r\nAlas! I have no language to tell\r\nTh\u2019effecte, nor the torment of mine hell;\r\nMine hearte may mine harmes not betray;\r\nI am so confused, that I cannot say.\r\nBut mercy, lady bright, that knowest well\r\nMy thought, and seest what harm that I feel.\r\nConsider all this, and *rue upon* my sore,                *take pity on*\r\nAs wisly* as I shall for evermore                                 *truly\r\nEnforce my might, thy true servant to be,\r\nAnd holde war alway with chastity:\r\nThat make I mine avow*, so ye me help.                     *vow, promise\r\nI keepe not of armes for to yelp,*                                *boast\r\nNor ask I not to-morrow to have victory,\r\nNor renown in this case, nor vaine glory\r\nOf *prize of armes*, blowing up and down,            *praise for valour*\r\nBut I would have fully possessioun\r\nOf Emily, and die in her service;\r\nFind thou the manner how, and in what wise.\r\nI *recke not but* it may better be                 *do not know whether*\r\nTo have vict\u2019ry of them, or they of me,\r\nSo that I have my lady in mine arms.\r\nFor though so be that Mars is god of arms,\r\nYour virtue is so great in heaven above,\r\nThat, if you list, I shall well have my love.\r\nThy temple will I worship evermo\u2019,\r\nAnd on thine altar, where I ride or go,\r\nI will do sacrifice, and fires bete*.                      *make, kindle\r\nAnd if ye will not so, my lady sweet,\r\nThen pray I you, to-morrow with a spear\r\nThat Arcita me through the hearte bear\r\nThen reck I not, when I have lost my life,\r\nThough that Arcita win her to his wife.\r\nThis is th\u2019 effect and end of my prayere, \u2014\r\nGive me my love, thou blissful lady dear.\u201d\r\nWhen th\u2019 orison was done of Palamon,\r\nHis sacrifice he did, and that anon,\r\nFull piteously, with alle circumstances,\r\n*All tell I not as now* his observances.       *although I tell not now*\r\nBut at the last the statue of Venus shook,\r\nAnd made a signe, whereby that he took\r\nThat his prayer accepted was that day.\r\nFor though the signe shewed a delay,\r\nYet wist he well that granted was his boon;\r\nAnd with glad heart he went him home full soon.\r\n\r\nThe third hour unequal <64>  that Palamon\r\nBegan to Venus\u2019 temple for to gon,\r\nUp rose the sun, and up rose Emily,\r\nAnd to the temple of Dian gan hie.\r\nHer maidens, that she thither with her lad*,                        *led\r\nTh\u2019 incense, the clothes, and the remnant all\r\nThat to the sacrifice belonge shall,\r\nThe hornes full of mead, as was the guise;\r\nThere lacked nought to do her sacrifice.\r\nSmoking* the temple full of clothes fair,                  *draping <65>\r\nThis Emily with hearte debonnair*                                *gentle\r\nHer body wash\u2019d with water of a well.\r\nBut how she did her rite I dare not tell;\r\nBut* it be any thing in general;                                 *unless\r\nAnd yet it were a game* to hearen all                          *pleasure\r\nTo him that meaneth well it were no charge:\r\nBut it is good a man to *be at large*.                   *do as he will*\r\nHer bright hair combed was, untressed all.\r\nA coronet of green oak cerriall <66>\r\nUpon her head was set full fair and meet.\r\nTwo fires on the altar gan she bete,\r\nAnd did her thinges, as men may behold\r\nIn Stace of Thebes <67>, and these bookes old.\r\nWhen kindled was the fire, with piteous cheer\r\nUnto Dian she spake as ye may hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cO chaste goddess of the woodes green,\r\nTo whom both heav\u2019n and earth and sea is seen,\r\nQueen of the realm of Pluto dark and low,\r\nGoddess of maidens, that mine heart hast know\r\nFull many a year, and wost* what I desire,                      *knowest\r\nTo keep me from the vengeance of thine ire,\r\nThat Actaeon aboughte* cruelly:                   *earned; suffered from\r\nChaste goddess, well wottest thou that I\r\nDesire to be a maiden all my life,\r\nNor never will I be no love nor wife.\r\nI am, thou wost*, yet of thy company,                           *knowest\r\nA maid, and love hunting and venery*,                      *field sports\r\nAnd for to walken in the woodes wild,\r\nAnd not to be a wife, and be with child.\r\nNought will I know the company of man.\r\nNow help me, lady, since ye may and can,\r\nFor those three formes <68> that thou hast in thee.\r\nAnd Palamon, that hath such love to me,\r\nAnd eke Arcite, that loveth me so sore,\r\nThis grace I pray thee withoute more,\r\nAs sende love and peace betwixt them two:\r\nAnd from me turn away their heartes so,\r\nThat all their hote love, and their desire,\r\nAnd all their busy torment, and their fire,\r\nBe queint*, or turn\u2019d into another place.                      *quenched\r\nAnd if so be thou wilt do me no grace,\r\nOr if my destiny be shapen so\r\nThat I shall needes have one of them two,\r\nSo send me him that most desireth me.\r\nBehold, goddess of cleane chastity,\r\nThe bitter tears that on my cheekes fall.\r\nSince thou art maid, and keeper of us all,\r\nMy maidenhead thou keep and well conserve,\r\nAnd, while I live, a maid I will thee serve.\r\n\r\nThe fires burn upon the altar clear,\r\nWhile Emily was thus in her prayere:\r\nBut suddenly she saw a sighte quaint*.                          *strange\r\nFor right anon one of the fire\u2019s *queint\r\nAnd quick\u2019d* again, and after that anon           *went out and revived*\r\nThat other fire was queint, and all agone:\r\nAnd as it queint, it made a whisteling,\r\nAs doth a brande wet in its burning.\r\nAnd at the brandes end outran anon\r\nAs it were bloody droppes many one:\r\nFor which so sore aghast was Emily,\r\nThat she was well-nigh mad, and gan to cry,\r\nFor she ne wiste what it signified;\r\nBut onely for feare thus she cried,\r\nAnd wept, that it was pity for to hear.\r\nAnd therewithal Diana gan appear\r\nWith bow in hand, right as an hunteress,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cDaughter, stint* thine heaviness.                     *cease\r\nAmong the goddes high it is affirm\u2019d,\r\nAnd by eternal word writ and confirm\u2019d,\r\nThou shalt be wedded unto one of tho*                             *those\r\nThat have for thee so muche care and woe:\r\nBut unto which of them I may not tell.\r\nFarewell, for here I may no longer dwell.\r\nThe fires which that on mine altar brenn*,                         *burn\r\nShall thee declaren, ere that thou go henne*,                     *hence\r\nThine aventure of love, as in this case.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word, the arrows in the case*                      *quiver\r\nOf the goddess did clatter fast and ring,\r\nAnd forth she went, and made a vanishing,\r\nFor which this Emily astonied was,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cWhat amounteth this, alas!\r\nI put me under thy protection,\r\nDiane, and in thy disposition.\u201d\r\nAnd home she went anon the nexte* way.                          *nearest\r\nThis is th\u2019 effect, there is no more to say.\r\n\r\nThe nexte hour of Mars following this\r\nArcite to the temple walked is\r\nOf fierce Mars, to do his sacrifice\r\nWith all the rites of his pagan guise.\r\nWith piteous* heart and high devotion                             *pious\r\nRight thus to Mars he said his orison\r\n\u201cO stronge god, that in the regnes* old                          *realms\r\nOf Thrace honoured art, and lord y-hold*                           *held\r\nAnd hast in every regne, and every land\r\nOf armes all the bridle in thine hand,\r\nAnd *them fortunest as thee list devise*,             *send them fortune\r\nAccept of me my piteous sacrifice.                        as you please*\r\nIf so be that my youthe may deserve,\r\nAnd that my might be worthy for to serve\r\nThy godhead, that I may be one of thine,\r\nThen pray I thee to *rue upon my pine*,                *pity my anguish*\r\nFor thilke* pain, and thilke hote fire,                            *that\r\nIn which thou whilom burned\u2019st for desire\r\nWhenne that thou usedest* the beauty                            *enjoyed\r\nOf faire young Venus, fresh and free,\r\nAnd haddest her in armes at thy will:\r\nAnd though thee ones on a time misfill*,                   *were unlucky\r\nWhen Vulcanus had caught thee in his las*,                     *net <69>\r\nAnd found thee ligging* by his wife, alas!                        *lying\r\nFor thilke sorrow that was in thine heart,\r\nHave ruth* as well upon my paine\u2019s smart.                          *pity\r\nI am young and unconning*, as thou know\u2019st,            *ignorant, simple\r\nAnd, as I trow*, with love offended most                        *believe\r\nThat e\u2019er was any living creature:\r\nFor she, that doth* me all this woe endure,                      *causes\r\nNe recketh ne\u2019er whether I sink or fleet*                          *swim\r\nAnd well I wot, ere she me mercy hete*,              *promise, vouchsafe\r\nI must with strengthe win her in the place:\r\nAnd well I wot, withoute help or grace\r\nOf thee, ne may my strengthe not avail:\r\nThen help me, lord, to-morr\u2019w in my bataille,\r\nFor thilke fire that whilom burned thee,\r\nAs well as this fire that now burneth me;\r\nAnd do* that I to-morr\u2019w may have victory.                        *cause\r\nMine be the travail, all thine be the glory.\r\nThy sovereign temple will I most honour\r\nOf any place, and alway most labour\r\nIn thy pleasance and in thy craftes strong.\r\nAnd in thy temple I will my banner hong*,                          *hang\r\nAnd all the armes of my company,\r\nAnd evermore, until that day I die,\r\nEternal fire I will before thee find\r\nAnd eke to this my vow I will me bind:\r\nMy beard, my hair that hangeth long adown,\r\nThat never yet hath felt offension*                           *indignity\r\nOf razor nor of shears, I will thee give,\r\nAnd be thy true servant while I live.\r\nNow, lord, have ruth upon my sorrows sore,\r\nGive me the victory, I ask no more.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe prayer stint* of Arcita the strong,                           *ended\r\nThe ringes on the temple door that hong,\r\nAnd eke the doores, clattered full fast,\r\nOf which Arcita somewhat was aghast.\r\nThe fires burn\u2019d upon the altar bright,\r\nThat it gan all the temple for to light;\r\nA sweete smell anon the ground up gaf*,                            *gave\r\nAnd Arcita anon his hand up haf*,                                *lifted\r\nAnd more incense into the fire he cast,\r\nWith other rites more and at the last\r\nThe statue of Mars began his hauberk ring;\r\nAnd with that sound he heard a murmuring\r\nFull low and dim, that saide thus,  \u201cVictory.\u201d\r\nFor which he gave to Mars honour and glory.\r\nAnd thus with joy, and hope well to fare,\r\nArcite anon unto his inn doth fare.\r\nAs fain* as fowl is of the brighte sun.                            *glad\r\n\r\nAnd right anon such strife there is begun\r\nFor thilke* granting, in the heav\u2019n above,                         *that\r\nBetwixte Venus the goddess of love,\r\nAnd Mars the sterne god armipotent,\r\nThat Jupiter was busy it to stent*:                                *stop\r\nTill that the pale Saturnus the cold,<70>\r\nThat knew so many of adventures old,\r\nFound in his old experience such an art,\r\nThat he full soon hath pleased every part.\r\nAs sooth is said, eld* hath great advantage,                        *age\r\nIn eld is bothe wisdom and usage*:                           *experience\r\nMen may the old out-run, but not out-rede*.                      *outwit\r\nSaturn anon, to stint the strife and drede,\r\nAlbeit that it is against his kind,*                             *nature\r\nOf all this strife gan a remedy find.\r\n\u201cMy deare daughter Venus,\u201d quoth Saturn,\r\n\u201cMy course*, that hath so wide for to turn,                  *orbit <71>\r\nHath more power than wot any man.\r\nMine is the drowning in the sea so wan;\r\nMine is the prison in the darke cote*,                             *cell\r\nMine the strangling and hanging by the throat,\r\nThe murmur, and the churlish rebelling,\r\nThe groyning*, and the privy poisoning.                      *discontent\r\nI do vengeance and plein* correction,                              *full\r\nI dwell in the sign of the lion.\r\nMine is the ruin of the highe halls,\r\nThe falling of the towers and the walls\r\nUpon the miner or the carpenter:\r\nI slew Samson in shaking the pillar:\r\nMine also be the maladies cold,\r\nThe darke treasons, and the castes* old:                          *plots\r\nMy looking is the father of pestilence.\r\nNow weep no more, I shall do diligence\r\nThat Palamon, that is thine owen knight,\r\nShall have his lady, as thou hast him hight*.                  *promised\r\nThough Mars shall help his knight, yet natheless\r\nBetwixte you there must sometime be peace:\r\nAll be ye not of one complexion,\r\nThat each day causeth such division,\r\nI am thine ayel*, ready at thy will;                   *grandfather <72>\r\nWeep now no more, I shall thy lust* fulfil.\u201d                   *pleasure\r\nNow will I stenten* of the gods above,                   *cease speaking\r\nOf Mars, and of Venus, goddess of love,\r\nAnd telle you as plainly as I can\r\nThe great effect, for which that I began.\r\n\r\nGreat was the feast in Athens thilke* day;                         *that\r\nAnd eke the lusty season of that May\r\nMade every wight to be in such pleasance,\r\nThat all that Monday jousten they and dance,\r\nAnd spenden it in Venus\u2019 high service.\r\nBut by the cause that they shoulde rise\r\nEarly a-morrow for to see that fight,\r\nUnto their reste wente they at night.\r\nAnd on the morrow, when the day gan spring,\r\nOf horse and harness* noise and clattering                       *armour\r\nThere was in the hostelries all about:\r\nAnd to the palace rode there many a rout*                *train, retinue\r\nOf lordes, upon steedes and palfreys.\r\nThere mayst thou see devising* of harness                    *decoration\r\nSo uncouth* and so rich, and wrought so weel               *unkown, rare\r\nOf goldsmithry, of brouding*, and of steel;                  *embroidery\r\nThe shieldes bright, the testers*, and trappures**          *helmets<73>\r\nGold-hewen helmets, hauberks, coat-armures;                  **trappings\r\nLordes in parements* on their coursers,           *ornamental garb <74>;\r\nKnightes of retinue, and eke squiers,\r\nNailing the spears, and helmes buckeling,\r\nGniding* of shieldes, with lainers** lacing;             *polishing <75>\r\nThere as need is, they were nothing idle:                     **lanyards\r\nThe foamy steeds upon the golden bridle\r\nGnawing, and fast the armourers also\r\nWith file and hammer pricking to and fro;\r\nYeomen on foot, and knaves* many one                           *servants\r\nWith shorte staves, thick* as they may gon**;              *close **walk\r\nPipes, trumpets, nakeres*, and clariouns,                    *drums <76>\r\nThat in the battle blowe bloody souns;\r\nThe palace full of people up and down,\r\nThere three, there ten, holding their questioun*,          *conversation\r\nDivining* of these Theban knightes two.                    *conjecturing\r\nSome saiden thus, some said it shall he so;\r\nSome helden with him with the blacke beard,\r\nSome with the bald, some with the thick-hair\u2019d;\r\nSome said he looked grim, and woulde fight:\r\nHe had a sparth* of twenty pound of weight.           *double-headed axe\r\nThus was the halle full of divining*                       *conjecturing\r\nLong after that the sunne gan up spring.\r\nThe great Theseus that of his sleep is waked\r\nWith minstrelsy, and noise that was maked,\r\nHeld yet the chamber of his palace rich,\r\nTill that the Theban knightes both y-lich*                        *alike\r\nHonoured were, and to the palace fet*.                          *fetched\r\nDuke Theseus is at a window set,\r\nArray\u2019d right as he were a god in throne:\r\nThe people presseth thitherward full soon\r\nHim for to see, and do him reverence,\r\nAnd eke to hearken his hest* and his sentence**.       *command **speech\r\nAn herald on a scaffold made an O, <77>\r\nTill the noise of the people was y-do*:                            *done\r\nAnd when he saw the people of noise all still,\r\nThus shewed he the mighty Duke\u2019s will.\r\n\u201cThe lord hath of his high discretion\r\nConsidered that it were destruction\r\nTo gentle blood, to fighten in the guise\r\nOf mortal battle now in this emprise:\r\nWherefore to shape* that they shall not die,          *arrange, contrive\r\nHe will his firste purpose modify.\r\nNo man therefore, on pain of loss of life,\r\nNo manner* shot, nor poleaxe, nor short knife                   *kind of\r\nInto the lists shall send, or thither bring.\r\nNor short sword for to stick with point biting\r\nNo man shall draw, nor bear it by his side.\r\nAnd no man shall unto his fellow ride\r\nBut one course, with a sharp y-grounden spear:\r\n*Foin if him list on foot, himself to wear.           *He who wishes can\r\nAnd he that is at mischief shall be take*,       fence on foot to defend\r\nAnd not slain, but be brought unto the stake,       himself, and he that\r\nThat shall be ordained on either side;       is in peril shall be taken*\r\nThither he shall by force, and there abide.\r\nAnd if *so fall* the chiefetain be take                  *should happen*\r\nOn either side, or elles slay his make*,                   *equal, match\r\nNo longer then the tourneying shall last.\r\nGod speede you; go forth and lay on fast.\r\nWith long sword and with mace fight your fill.\r\nGo now your way; this is the lordes will.\r\nThe voice of the people touched the heaven,\r\nSo loude cried they with merry steven*:                           *sound\r\nGod save such a lord that is so good,\r\nHe willeth no destruction of blood.\r\n\r\nUp go the trumpets and the melody,\r\nAnd to the listes rode the company\r\n*By ordinance*, throughout the city large,            *in orderly array*\r\nHanged with cloth of gold, and not with sarge*.              *serge <78>\r\nFull like a lord this noble Duke gan ride,\r\nAnd these two Thebans upon either side:\r\n\r\nAnd after rode the queen and Emily,\r\nAnd after them another company\r\nOf one and other, after their degree.\r\nAnd thus they passed thorough that city\r\nAnd to the listes came they by time:\r\nIt was not of the day yet fully prime*.              *between 6 & 9 a.m.\r\nWhen set was Theseus full rich and high,\r\nHippolyta the queen and Emily,\r\nAnd other ladies in their degrees about,\r\nUnto the seates presseth all the rout.\r\nAnd westward, through the gates under Mart,\r\nArcite, and eke the hundred of his part,\r\nWith banner red, is enter\u2019d right anon;\r\nAnd in the selve* moment Palamon                              *self-same\r\nIs, under Venus, eastward in the place,\r\nWith banner white, and hardy cheer* and face                 *expression\r\nIn all the world, to seeken up and down\r\nSo even* without variatioun                                       *equal\r\nThere were such companies never tway.\r\nFor there was none so wise that coulde say\r\nThat any had of other avantage\r\nOf worthiness, nor of estate, nor age,\r\nSo even were they chosen for to guess.\r\nAnd *in two ranges faire they them dress*.     *they arranged themselves\r\nWhen that their names read were every one,                  in two rows*\r\nThat in their number guile* were there none,                      *fraud\r\nThen were the gates shut, and cried was loud;\r\n\u201cDo now your devoir, younge knights proud\r\nThe heralds left their pricking* up and down      *spurring their horses\r\nNow ring the trumpet loud and clarioun.\r\nThere is no more to say, but east and west\r\nIn go the speares sadly* in the rest;                          *steadily\r\nIn go the sharpe spurs into the side.\r\nThere see me who can joust, and who can ride.\r\nThere shiver shaftes upon shieldes thick;\r\nHe feeleth through the hearte-spoon<79> the prick.\r\nUp spring the speares twenty foot on height;\r\nOut go the swordes as the silver bright.\r\nThe helmes they to-hewen, and to-shred*;          *strike in pieces <80>\r\nOut burst the blood, with sterne streames red.\r\nWith mighty maces the bones they to-brest*.                       *burst\r\nHe <81> through the thickest of the throng gan threst*.          *thrust\r\nThere stumble steedes strong, and down go all.\r\nHe rolleth under foot as doth a ball.\r\nHe foineth* on his foe with a trunchoun,                 *forces himself\r\nAnd he him hurtleth with his horse adown.\r\nHe through the body hurt is, and *sith take*,      *afterwards captured*\r\nMaugre his head, and brought unto the stake,\r\nAs forword* was, right there he must abide.                    *covenant\r\nAnother led is on that other side.\r\nAnd sometime doth* them Theseus to rest,                         *caused\r\nThem to refresh, and drinken if them lest*.                     *pleased\r\nFull oft a day have thilke Thebans two                            *these\r\nTogether met and wrought each other woe:\r\nUnhorsed hath each other of them tway*                            *twice\r\nThere is no tiger in the vale of Galaphay, <82>\r\nWhen that her whelp is stole, when it is lite*                   *little\r\nSo cruel on the hunter, as Arcite\r\nFor jealous heart upon this Palamon:\r\nNor in Belmarie <83> there is no fell lion,\r\nThat hunted is, or for his hunger wood*                             *mad\r\nOr for his prey desireth so the blood,\r\nAs Palamon to slay his foe Arcite.\r\nThe jealous strokes upon their helmets bite;\r\nOut runneth blood on both their sides red,\r\nSometime an end there is of every deed\r\nFor ere the sun unto the reste went,\r\nThe stronge king Emetrius gan hent*                       *sieze, assail\r\nThis Palamon, as he fought with Arcite,\r\nAnd made his sword deep in his flesh to bite,\r\nAnd by the force of twenty is he take,\r\nUnyielding, and is drawn unto the stake.\r\nAnd in the rescue of this Palamon\r\nThe stronge king Licurgus is borne down:\r\nAnd king Emetrius, for all his strength\r\nIs borne out of his saddle a sword\u2019s length,\r\nSo hit him Palamon ere he were take:\r\nBut all for nought; he was brought to the stake:\r\nHis hardy hearte might him helpe naught,\r\nHe must abide when that he was caught,\r\nBy force, and eke by composition*.                          *the bargain\r\nWho sorroweth now but woful Palamon\r\nThat must no more go again to fight?\r\nAnd when that Theseus had seen that sight\r\nUnto the folk that foughte thus each one,\r\nHe cried, Ho! no more, for it is done!\r\nI will be true judge, and not party.\r\nArcite of Thebes shall have Emily,\r\nThat by his fortune hath her fairly won.\u201d\r\nAnon there is a noise of people gone,\r\nFor joy of this, so loud and high withal,\r\nIt seemed that the listes shoulde fall.\r\n\r\nWhat can now faire Venus do above?\r\nWhat saith she now? what doth this queen of love?\r\nBut weepeth so, for wanting of her will,\r\nTill that her teares in the listes fill*                           *fall\r\nShe said: \u201cI am ashamed doubteless.\u201d\r\nSaturnus saide: \u201cDaughter, hold thy peace.\r\nMars hath his will, his knight hath all his boon,\r\nAnd by mine head thou shalt be eased soon.\u201d\r\n The trumpeters with the loud minstrelsy,\r\nThe heralds, that full loude yell and cry,\r\nBe in their joy for weal of Dan* Arcite.                           *Lord\r\nBut hearken me, and stinte noise a lite,\r\nWhat a miracle there befell anon\r\nThis fierce Arcite hath off his helm y-done,\r\nAnd on a courser for to shew his face\r\nHe *pricketh endelong* the large place,          *rides from end to end*\r\nLooking upward upon this Emily;\r\nAnd she again him cast a friendly eye\r\n(For women, as to speaken *in commune*,                      *generally*\r\nThey follow all the favour of fortune),\r\nAnd was all his in cheer*,  as his in heart.                *countenance\r\nOut of the ground a fire infernal start,\r\nFrom Pluto sent, at request of Saturn\r\nFor which his horse for fear began to turn,\r\nAnd leap aside, and founder* as he leap                         *stumble\r\nAnd ere that Arcite may take any keep*,                            *care\r\nHe pight* him on the pummel** of his head.                *pitched **top\r\nThat in the place he lay as he were dead.\r\nHis breast to-bursten with his saddle-bow.\r\nAs black he lay as any coal or crow,\r\nSo was the blood y-run into his face.\r\nAnon he was y-borne out of the place\r\nWith hearte sore, to Theseus\u2019 palace.\r\nThen was he carven* out of his harness.                             *cut\r\nAnd in a bed y-brought full fair and blive*                     *quickly\r\nFor he was yet in mem\u2019ry and alive,\r\nAnd always crying after Emily.\r\n\r\nDuke Theseus, with all his company,\r\nIs come home to Athens his city,\r\nWith alle bliss and great solemnity.\r\nAlbeit that this aventure was fall*,                           *befallen\r\nHe woulde not discomforte* them all                          *discourage\r\nThen said eke, that Arcite should not die,\r\nHe should be healed of his malady.\r\nAnd of another thing they were as fain*.                           *glad\r\nThat of them alle was there no one slain,\r\nAll* were they sorely hurt, and namely** one,     *although **especially\r\nThat with a spear was thirled* his breast-bone.                 *pierced\r\nTo other woundes, and to broken arms,\r\nSome hadden salves, and some hadden charms:\r\nAnd pharmacies of herbs, and eke save*         *sage, Salvia officinalis\r\nThey dranken, for they would their lives have.\r\nFor which this noble Duke, as he well can,\r\nComforteth and honoureth every man,\r\nAnd made revel all the longe night,\r\nUnto the strange lordes, as was right.\r\nNor there was holden no discomforting,\r\nBut as at jousts or at a tourneying;\r\nFor soothly there was no discomfiture,\r\nFor falling is not but an aventure*.                   *chance, accident\r\nNor to be led by force unto a stake\r\nUnyielding, and with twenty knights y-take\r\nOne person all alone, withouten mo\u2019,\r\nAnd harried* forth by armes, foot, and toe,            *dragged, hurried\r\nAnd eke his steede driven forth with staves,\r\nWith footmen, bothe yeomen and eke knaves*,                    *servants\r\nIt was *aretted him no villainy:*           *counted no disgrace to him*\r\nThere may no man *clepen it cowardy*.                *call it cowardice*\r\nFor which anon Duke Theseus *let cry*, \u2014      *caused to be proclaimed*\r\nTo stenten* alle rancour and envy, \u2014                              *stop\r\nThe gree* as well on one side as the other,                *prize, merit\r\nAnd either side alike as other\u2019s brother:\r\nAnd gave them giftes after their degree,\r\nAnd held a feaste fully dayes three:\r\nAnd conveyed the kinges worthily\r\nOut of  his town a journee* largely                       *day\u2019s journey\r\nAnd home went every man the righte way,\r\nThere was no more but \u201cFarewell, Have good day.\u201d\r\nOf this bataille I will no more indite\r\nBut speak of Palamon and of Arcite.\r\n\r\nSwelleth the breast of Arcite and the sore\r\nIncreaseth at his hearte more and more.\r\nThe clotted blood, for any leache-craft*                 *surgical skill\r\nCorrupteth and is *in his bouk y-laft*                *left in his body*\r\nThat neither *veine blood nor ventousing*,    *blood-letting or cupping*\r\nNor drink of herbes may be his helping.\r\nThe virtue expulsive or animal,\r\nFrom thilke virtue called natural,\r\nNor may the venom voide, nor expel\r\nThe pipes of his lungs began to swell\r\nAnd every lacert* in his breast adown                     *sinew, muscle\r\nIs shent* with venom and corruption.                          *destroyed\r\nHim gaineth* neither, for to get his life,                     *availeth\r\nVomit upward, nor downward laxative;\r\nAll is to-bursten thilke region;\r\nNature hath now no domination.\r\nAnd certainly where nature will not wirch,*                        *work\r\nFarewell physic: go bear the man to chirch.*                     *church\r\nThis all and some is, Arcite must die.\r\nFor which he sendeth after Emily,\r\nAnd Palamon, that was his cousin dear,\r\nThen said he thus, as ye shall after hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cNought may the woful spirit in mine heart\r\nDeclare one point of all my sorrows\u2019 smart\r\nTo you, my lady, that I love the most:\r\nBut I bequeath  the service of my ghost\r\nTo you aboven every creature,\r\nSince that my life ne may no longer dure.\r\nAlas the woe! alas, the paines strong\r\nThat I for you have suffered and so long!\r\nAlas the death,  alas, mine Emily!\r\nAlas departing* of our company!                           *the severance\r\nAlas, mine hearte\u2019s queen! alas, my wife!\r\nMine hearte\u2019s lady, ender of my life!\r\nWhat is this world? what aske men to have?\r\nNow with his love, now in his colde grave\r\nAl one, withouten any company.\r\nFarewell, my sweet, farewell, mine Emily,\r\nAnd softly take me in your armes tway,\r\nFor love of God, and hearken what I say.\r\nI have here with my cousin Palamon\r\nHad strife and rancour many a day agone,\r\nFor love of you, and for my jealousy.\r\nAnd Jupiter so *wis my soule gie*,               *surely guides my soul*\r\nTo speaken of a servant properly,\r\nWith alle circumstances truely,\r\nThat is to say, truth, honour, and knighthead,\r\nWisdom, humbless*, estate, and high kindred,                   *humility\r\nFreedom, and all that longeth to that art,\r\nSo Jupiter have of my soul part,\r\nAs in this world right now I know not one,\r\nSo worthy to be lov\u2019d as Palamon,\r\nThat serveth you, and will do all his life.\r\nAnd if that you shall ever be a wife,\r\nForget not Palamon, the gentle man.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word his speech to fail began.\r\nFor from his feet up to his breast was come\r\nThe cold of death, that had him overnome*.                     *overcome\r\nAnd yet moreover in his armes two\r\nThe vital strength is lost, and all ago*.                          *gone\r\nOnly the intellect, withoute more,\r\nThat dwelled in his hearte sick and sore,\r\nGan faile, when the hearte felte death;\r\nDusked* his eyen two, and fail\u2019d his breath.                   *grew dim\r\nBut on his lady yet he cast his eye;\r\nHis laste word was; \u201cMercy, Emily!\u201d\r\nHis spirit changed house, and wente there,\r\nAs I came never I cannot telle where.<84>\r\nTherefore I stent*, I am no divinister**;             *refrain **diviner\r\nOf soules find I nought in this register.\r\nNe me list not th\u2019 opinions to tell\r\nOf them, though that they writen where they dwell;\r\nArcite is cold, there Mars his soule gie.*                        *guide\r\nNow will I speake forth of Emily.\r\n\r\nShriek\u2019d Emily, and howled Palamon,\r\nAnd Theseus his sister took anon\r\nSwooning, and bare her from the corpse away.\r\nWhat helpeth it to tarry forth the day,\r\nTo telle how she wept both eve and morrow?\r\nFor in such cases women have such sorrow,\r\nWhen that their husbands be from them y-go*,                       *gone\r\nThat for the more part they sorrow so,\r\nOr elles fall into such malady,\r\nThat at the laste certainly they die.\r\nInfinite be the sorrows and the tears\r\nOf olde folk, and folk of tender years,\r\nIn all the town, for death of this Theban:\r\nFor him there weepeth bothe child and man.\r\nSo great a weeping was there none certain,\r\nWhen Hector was y-brought, all fresh y-slain,\r\nTo Troy: alas! the pity that was there,\r\nScratching of cheeks, and rending eke of hair.\r\n\u201cWhy wouldest thou be dead?\u201d these women cry,\r\n\u201cAnd haddest gold enough, and Emily.\u201d\r\nNo manner man might gladden Theseus,\r\nSaving his olde father Egeus,\r\nThat knew this worlde\u2019s transmutatioun,\r\nAs he had seen it changen up and down,\r\nJoy after woe, and woe after gladness;\r\nAnd shewed him example and likeness.\r\n\u201cRight as there died never man,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cThat he ne liv\u2019d in earth in some degree*,             *rank, condition\r\nRight so there lived never man,\u201d he said,\r\n\u201cIn all this world, that sometime be not died.\r\nThis world is but a throughfare full of woe,\r\nAnd we be pilgrims, passing to and fro:\r\nDeath is an end of every worldly sore.\u201d\r\nAnd over all this said he yet much more\r\nTo this effect, full wisely to exhort\r\nThe people, that they should them recomfort.\r\nDuke Theseus, with all his busy cure*,                             *care\r\n*Casteth about*, where that the sepulture                  *deliberates*\r\nOf good Arcite may best y-maked be,\r\nAnd eke most honourable in his degree.\r\nAnd at the last he took conclusion,\r\nThat there as first Arcite and Palamon\r\nHadde for love the battle them between,\r\nThat in that selve* grove, sweet and green,                   *self-same\r\nThere as he had his amorous desires,\r\nHis complaint, and for love his hote fires,\r\nHe woulde make a fire*, in which th\u2019 office                *funeral pyre\r\nOf funeral he might all accomplice;\r\nAnd *let anon command* to hack and hew         *immediately gave orders*\r\nThe oakes old, and lay them *on a rew*                        *in a row*\r\nIn culpons*, well arrayed for to brenne**.                  *logs **burn\r\nHis officers with swifte feet they renne*                           *run\r\nAnd ride anon at his commandement.\r\nAnd after this, Duke Theseus hath sent\r\nAfter a bier, and it all oversprad\r\nWith cloth of gold, the richest that he had;\r\nAnd of the same suit he clad Arcite.\r\nUpon his handes were his gloves white,\r\nEke on his head a crown of laurel green,\r\nAnd in his hand a sword full bright and keen.\r\nHe laid him *bare the visage* on the bier,         *with face uncovered*\r\nTherewith he wept, that pity was to hear.\r\nAnd, for the people shoulde see him all,\r\nWhen it was day he brought them to the hall,\r\nThat roareth of the crying and the soun\u2019.\r\nThen came this woful Theban, Palamon,\r\nWith sluttery beard, and ruggy ashy hairs,<85>\r\nIn clothes black, y-dropped all with tears,\r\nAnd (passing over weeping Emily)\r\nThe ruefullest of all the company.\r\nAnd *inasmuch as* the service should be                  *in order that*\r\nThe more noble and rich in its degree,\r\nDuke Theseus let forth three steedes bring,\r\nThat trapped were in steel all glittering.\r\nAnd covered with the arms of Dan Arcite.\r\nUpon these steedes, that were great and white,\r\nThere satte folk, of whom one bare his shield,\r\nAnother his spear in his handes held;\r\nThe thirde bare with him his bow Turkeis*,                     *Turkish.\r\nOf brent* gold was the case** and the harness:       *burnished **quiver\r\nAnd ride forth *a pace* with sorrowful cheer**          *at a foot pace*\r\nToward the grove, as ye shall after hear.                   **expression\r\n\r\nThe noblest of the Greekes that there were\r\nUpon their shoulders carried the bier,\r\nWith slacke pace, and eyen red and wet,\r\nThroughout the city, by the master* street,                   *main <86>\r\nThat spread was all with black, and wondrous high\r\nRight of the same is all the street y-wrie.*               *covered <87>\r\nUpon the right hand went old Egeus,\r\nAnd on the other side Duke Theseus,\r\nWith vessels in their hand of gold full fine,\r\nAll full of honey, milk, and blood, and wine;\r\nEke Palamon, with a great company;\r\nAnd after that came woful Emily,\r\nWith fire in hand, as was that time the guise*,                  *custom\r\nTo do th\u2019 office of funeral service.\r\n\r\nHigh labour, and full great appareling*                     *preparation\r\nWas at the service, and the pyre-making,\r\nThat with its greene top the heaven raught*,                    *reached\r\nAnd twenty fathom broad its armes straught*:                  *stretched\r\nThis is to say, the boughes were so broad.\r\nOf straw first there was laid many a load.\r\nBut how the pyre was maked up on height,\r\nAnd eke the names how the trees hight*,                     *were called\r\nAs oak, fir, birch, asp*, alder, holm, poplere,                   *aspen\r\nWillow, elm, plane, ash, box, chestnut, lind*, laurere,    *linden, lime\r\nMaple, thorn, beech, hazel, yew, whipul tree,\r\nHow they were fell\u2019d, shall not be told for me;\r\nNor how the goddes* rannen up and down               *the forest deities\r\nDisinherited of their habitatioun,\r\nIn which they wonned* had in rest and peace,                      *dwelt\r\nNymphes, Faunes, and Hamadryades;\r\nNor how the beastes and the birdes all\r\nFledden for feare, when the wood gan fall;\r\nNor how the ground aghast* was of the light,                  *terrified\r\nThat was not wont to see the sunne bright;\r\nNor how the fire was couched* first with stre**,           *laid **straw\r\nAnd then with dry stickes cloven in three,\r\nAnd then with greene wood and spicery*,                          *spices\r\nAnd then with cloth of gold and with pierrie*,          *precious stones\r\nAnd garlands hanging with full many a flower,\r\nThe myrrh, the incense with so sweet odour;\r\nNor how Arcita lay among all this,\r\nNor what richess about his body is;\r\nNor how that Emily, as was the guise*,                           *custom\r\n*Put in the fire* of funeral service<88>;           *appplied the torch*\r\nNor how she swooned when she made the fire,\r\nNor what she spake, nor what was her desire;\r\nNor what jewels men in the fire then cast\r\nWhen that the fire was great and burned fast;\r\n\r\nNor how some cast their shield, and some their spear,\r\nAnd of their vestiments, which that they wear,\r\nAnd cuppes full of wine, and milk, and blood,\r\nInto the fire, that burnt as it were wood*;                         *mad\r\nNor how the Greekes with a huge rout*                        *procession\r\nThree times riden all the fire about <89>\r\nUpon the left hand, with a loud shouting,\r\nAnd thries with their speares clattering;\r\nAnd thries how the ladies gan to cry;\r\nNor how that led was homeward Emily;\r\nNor how Arcite is burnt to ashes cold;\r\nNor how the lyke-wake* was y-hold                             *wake <90>\r\nAll thilke* night, nor how the Greekes play                        *that\r\nThe wake-plays*, ne keep** I not to say:           *funeral games **care\r\nWho wrestled best naked, with oil anoint,\r\nNor who that bare him best *in no disjoint*.            *in any contest*\r\nI will not tell eke how they all are gone\r\nHome to Athenes when the play is done;\r\nBut shortly to the point now will I wend*,                         *come\r\nAnd maken of my longe tale an end.\r\n\r\nBy process and by length of certain years\r\nAll stinted* is the mourning and the tears                        *ended\r\nOf Greekes, by one general assent.\r\nThen seemed me there was a parlement\r\nAt Athens, upon certain points and cas*:                          *cases\r\nAmonge the which points y-spoken was\r\nTo have with certain countries alliance,\r\nAnd have of Thebans full obeisance.\r\nFor which this noble Theseus anon\r\nLet* send after the gentle Palamon,                              *caused\r\nUnwist* of him what was the cause and why:                      *unknown\r\nBut in his blacke clothes sorrowfully\r\nHe came at his commandment *on hie*;                          *in haste*\r\nThen sente Theseus for Emily.\r\nWhen they were set*, and hush\u2019d was all the place                *seated\r\nAnd Theseus abided* had a space                                  *waited\r\nEre any word came from his wise breast\r\n*His eyen set he there as was his lest*,               *he cast his eyes\r\nAnd with a sad visage he sighed still,              wherever he pleased*\r\nAnd after that right thus he said his will.\r\n\u201cThe firste mover of the cause above\r\nWhen he first made the faire chain of love,\r\nGreat was th\u2019 effect, and high was his intent;\r\nWell wist he why, and what thereof he meant:\r\nFor with that faire chain of love he bond*                        *bound\r\nThe fire, the air, the water, and the lond\r\nIn certain bondes, that they may not flee:<91>\r\nThat same prince and mover eke,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cHath stablish\u2019d, in this wretched world adown,\r\nCertain of dayes and duration\r\nTo all that are engender\u2019d in this place,\r\nOver the whiche day they may not pace*,                            *pass\r\nAll may they yet their dayes well abridge.\r\nThere needeth no authority to allege\r\nFor it is proved by experience;\r\nBut that me list declare my sentence*.                          *opinion\r\nThen may men by this order well discern,\r\nThat thilke* mover stable is and etern.                        *the same\r\nWell may men know, but that it be a fool,\r\nThat every part deriveth from its whole.\r\nFor nature hath not ta\u2019en its beginning\r\nOf no *partie nor cantle* of a thing,                    *part or piece*\r\nBut of a thing that perfect is and stable,\r\nDescending so, till it be corruptable.\r\nAnd therefore of His wise purveyance*                        *providence\r\nHe hath so well beset* his ordinance,\r\nThat species of things and progressions\r\nShallen endure by successions,\r\nAnd not etern, withouten any lie:\r\nThis mayst thou understand and see at eye.\r\nLo th\u2019 oak, that hath so long a nourishing\r\nFrom the time that it \u2019ginneth first to spring,\r\nAnd hath so long a life, as ye may see,\r\nYet at the last y-wasted is the tree.\r\nConsider eke, how that the harde stone\r\nUnder our feet, on which we tread and gon*,                        *walk\r\nYet wasteth, as it lieth by the way.\r\nThe broade river some time waxeth drey*.                            *dry\r\nThe greate townes see we wane and wend*.                  *go, disappear\r\nThen may ye see that all things have an end.\r\nOf man and woman see we well also, \u2014\r\nThat needes in one of the termes two, \u2014\r\nThat is to say, in youth or else in age,-\r\nHe must be dead, the king as shall a page;\r\nSome in his bed, some in the deepe sea,\r\nSome in the large field, as ye may see:\r\nThere helpeth nought, all go that ilke* way:                       *same\r\nThen may I say that alle thing must die.\r\nWhat maketh this but Jupiter the king?\r\nThe which is prince, and cause of alle thing,\r\nConverting all unto his proper will,\r\nFrom which it is derived, sooth to tell\r\nAnd hereagainst no creature alive,\r\nOf no degree, availeth for to strive.\r\nThen is it wisdom, as it thinketh me,\r\nTo make a virtue of necessity,\r\nAnd take it well, that we may not eschew*,                       *escape\r\nAnd namely what to us all is due.\r\nAnd whoso grudgeth* ought, he doth folly,                    *murmurs at\r\nAnd rebel is to him that all may gie*.                    *direct, guide\r\nAnd certainly a man hath most honour\r\nTo dien in his excellence and flower,\r\nWhen he is sicker* of his goode name.                           *certain\r\nThen hath he done his friend, nor him*, no shame                *himself\r\nAnd gladder ought his friend be of his death,\r\nWhen with honour is yielded up his breath,\r\nThan when his name *appalled is for age*;           *decayed by old age*\r\nFor all forgotten is his vassalage*.                    *valour, service\r\nThen is it best, as for a worthy fame,\r\nTo dien when a man is best of name.\r\nThe contrary of all this is wilfulness.\r\nWhy grudge we, why have we heaviness,\r\nThat good Arcite, of chivalry the flower,\r\nDeparted is, with duty and honour,\r\nOut of this foule prison of this life?\r\nWhy grudge here his cousin and his wife\r\nOf his welfare, that loved him so well?\r\nCan he them thank? nay, God wot, neverdeal*, \u2014               *not a jot\r\nThat both his soul and eke themselves offend*,                     *hurt\r\nAnd yet they may their lustes* not amend**.           *desires **control\r\nWhat may I conclude of this longe serie*,             *string of remarks\r\nBut after sorrow I rede* us to be merry,                        *counsel\r\nAnd thanke Jupiter for all his grace?\r\nAnd ere that we departe from this place,\r\nI rede that we make of sorrows two\r\nOne perfect joye lasting evermo\u2019:\r\nAnd look now where most sorrow is herein,\r\nThere will I first amenden and begin.\r\n\u201cSister,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthis is my full assent,\r\nWith all th\u2019 advice here of my parlement,\r\nThat gentle Palamon, your owen knight,\r\nThat serveth you with will, and heart, and might,\r\nAnd ever hath, since first time ye him knew,\r\nThat ye shall of your grace upon him rue*,                    *take pity\r\nAnd take him for your husband and your lord:\r\nLend me your hand, for this is our accord.\r\n*Let see* now of your womanly pity.                       *make display*\r\nHe is a kinge\u2019s brother\u2019s son, pardie*.                          *by God\r\nAnd though he were a poore bachelere,\r\nSince he hath served you so many a year,\r\nAnd had for you so great adversity,\r\nIt muste be considered, *\u2019lieveth me*.                      *believe me*\r\nFor gentle mercy *oweth to passen right*.\u201d          *ought to be rightly\r\nThen said he thus to Palamon the knight;                       directed*\r\n\u201cI trow there needeth little sermoning\r\nTo make you assente to this thing.\r\nCome near, and take your lady by the hand.\u201d\r\nBetwixte them was made anon the band,\r\nThat hight matrimony or marriage,\r\nBy all the counsel of the baronage.\r\nAnd thus with alle bliss and melody\r\nHath Palamon y-wedded Emily.\r\nAnd God, that all this wide world hath wrought,\r\nSend him his love, that hath it dearly bought.\r\nFor now is Palamon in all his weal,\r\nLiving in bliss, in riches, and in heal*.                        *health\r\nAnd Emily him loves so tenderly,\r\nAnd he her serveth all so gentilly,\r\nThat never was there worde them between\r\nOf jealousy, nor of none other teen*.                    *cause of anger\r\nThus endeth Palamon and Emily\r\nAnd God save all this faire company.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The Knight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. For the plan and principal incidents of the \u201cKnight\u2019s Tale,\u201d\r\nChaucer was indebted to Boccaccio, who had himself borrowed\r\nfrom some prior poet, chronicler, or romancer.  Boccaccio\r\nspeaks of the story as \u201cvery ancient;\u201d and, though that may not\r\nbe proof of its antiquity, it certainly shows that he took it from\r\nan earlier writer. The \u201cTale\u201d is more or less a paraphrase of\r\nBoccaccio\u2019s \u201cTheseida;\u201d but in some points the copy has a\r\ndistinct dramatic superiority over the original.  The \u201cTheseida\u201d\r\ncontained ten thousand lines; Chaucer has condensed it into less\r\nthan one-fourth of the number. The \u201cKnight\u2019s Tale\u201d is supposed\r\nto have been at first composed as a separate work; it is\r\nundetermined whether Chaucer took it direct from the Italian of\r\nBoccaccio, or from a French translation.\r\n\r\n2. Highte: was called; from the Anglo-Saxon \u201chatan\u201d, to bid or\r\ncall; German, \u201cHeissen\u201d, \u201cheisst\u201d.\r\n\r\n3. Feminie: The \u201cRoyaume des Femmes\u201d \u2014 kingdom of the\r\nAmazons. Gower, in the \u201cConfessio Amantis,\u201d styles\r\nPenthesilea the \u201cQueen of Feminie.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. Wonnen: Won, conquered; German \u201cgewonnen.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. Ear: To plough; Latin, \u201carare.\u201d  \u201cI have abundant  matter for\r\ndiscourse.\u201d The first, and half of the second, of Boccaccio\u2019s\r\ntwelve books are disposed of in the few lines foregoing.\r\n\r\n6. Waimenting:  bewailing; German, \u201cwehklagen\u201d\r\n\r\n7. Starf: died; German, \u201csterben,\u201d \u201cstarb\u201d.\r\n\r\n8. The Minotaur: The monster, half-man and half-bull, which\r\nyearly devoured a tribute of fourteen Athenian youths and\r\nmaidens, until it was slain by Theseus.\r\n\r\n9. Pillers: pillagers, strippers; French, \u201cpilleurs.\u201d\r\n\r\n10. The donjon was originally the central tower or \u201ckeep\u201d of\r\nfeudal castles; it was employed to detain prisoners of\r\nimportance. Hence the modern meaning of the word dungeon.\r\n\r\n11. Saturn, in the old astrology, was a most unpropitious star to\r\nbe born under.\r\n\r\n12. To die in the pain was a proverbial expression in the French,\r\nused as an alternative to enforce a resolution or a promise.\r\nEdward III., according to Froissart, declared that he would\r\neither succeed in the war against France or die in the pain \u2014\r\n\u201cOu il mourroit en la peine.\u201d It was the fashion in those times to\r\nswear oaths of friendship and brotherhood; and hence, though\r\nthe fashion has long died out, we still speak of \u201csworn friends.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. The saying of the old scholar Boethius, in his treatise \u201cDe\r\nConsolatione Philosophiae\u201d, which Chaucer translated, and\r\nfrom which he has freely borrowed in his poetry. The words are\r\n\u201cQuis legem det amantibus?\r\nMajor lex amor est sibi.\u201d\r\n(\u201cWho can give law to lovers? Love is a law unto himself, and\r\ngreater\u201d)\r\n\r\n14. \u201cPerithous\u201d and \u201cTheseus\u201d must, for the metre, be\r\npronounced as words of four and three syllables respectively \u2014\r\nthe vowels at the end not being diphthongated, but enunciated\r\nseparately, as if the words were printed Pe-ri-tho-us, The-se-us.\r\nThe same rule applies in such words as \u201ccreature\u201d and\r\n\u201cconscience,\u201d which are trisyllables.\r\n\r\n15. Stound: moment, short space of time; from Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cstund;\u201d akin to which is German, \u201cStunde,\u201d an hour.\r\n\r\n16. Meinie: servants, or menials, &c., dwelling together in a\r\nhouse; from an Anglo-Saxon word meaning a crowd. Compare\r\nGerman, \u201cMenge,\u201d multitude.\r\n\r\n17. The pure fetters: the very fetters. The Greeks used\r\n\u201ckatharos\u201d, the Romans \u201cpurus,\u201d in the same sense.\r\n\r\n18. In the medieval courts of Love, to which allusion is\r\nprobably made forty lines before, in the word \u201cparlement,\u201d or\r\n\u201cparliament,\u201d questions like that here proposed were seriously\r\ndiscussed.\r\n\r\n19. Gear: behaviour, fashion, dress; but, by another reading, the\r\nword is \u201cgyre,\u201d and means fit, trance \u2014 from the Latin, \u201cgyro,\u201d I\r\nturn round.\r\n\r\n20. Before his head in his cell fantastic: in front of his head in\r\nhis cell of fantasy. \u201cThe division of the brain into cells,\r\naccording to the different sensitive faculties,\u201d says Mr Wright,\r\n\u201cis very ancient, and is found depicted in mediaeval\r\nmanuscripts.\u201d In a manuscript in the Harleian Library, it is\r\nstated, \u201cCertum est in prora cerebri esse fantasiam, in medio\r\nrationem discretionis, in puppi memoriam\u201d (it is certain that in\r\nthe front of the brain is imagination, in the middle reason, in the\r\nback memory) \u2014 a classification not materially differing from\r\nthat of modern phrenologists.\r\n\r\n21. Dan: Lord; Latin, \u201cDominus;\u201d Spanish, \u201cDon.\u201d\r\n\r\n22. The \u201ccaduceus.\u201d\r\n\r\n23. Argus was employed by Juno to watch Io with his hundred\r\neyes but he was sent to sleep by the flute of Mercury, who then\r\ncut off his head.\r\n\r\n24. Next: nearest; German, \u201cnaechste\u201d.\r\n\r\n25. Clary: hippocras, wine made with spices.\r\n\r\n26. Warray: make war; French \u201cguerroyer\u201d, to molest; hence,\r\nperhaps, \u201cto worry.\u201d\r\n\r\n27. All day meeten men at unset steven: every day men meet at\r\nunexpected time.  \u201cTo  set a steven,\u201d is to fix a time, make an\r\nappointment.\r\n\r\n28. Roundelay: song coming round again to the words with\r\nwhich it opened.\r\n\r\n29. Now in the crop and now down in the breres: Now in the\r\ntree-top, now down in the briars. \u201cCrop and root,\u201d top and\r\nbottom, is used to express the perfection or totality of anything.\r\n\r\n30. Beknow: avow, acknowledge: German, \u201cbekennen.\u201d\r\n\r\n31. Shapen was my death erst than my shert: My death was\r\ndecreed before my shirt ws shaped \u2014 that is, before any clothes\r\nwere made for me, before my birth.\r\n\r\n32. Regne: Queen; French, \u201cReine;\u201d Venus is meant. The\r\ncommon reading, however, is \u201cregne,\u201d reign or power.\r\n\r\n33. Launde: plain. Compare modern English, \u201clawn,\u201d and\r\nFrench, \u201cLandes\u201d \u2014 flat, bare marshy tracts in the south of\r\nFrance.\r\n\r\n34. Mister: manner, kind; German \u201cmuster,\u201d sample, model.\r\n\r\n35. In listes:  in the lists, prepared for such single combats\r\nbetween champion and accuser, &c.\r\n\r\n36. Thilke: that, contracted from \u201cthe ilke,\u201d the same.\r\n\r\n37. Mars the Red: referring to the ruddy colour of the planet, to\r\nwhich was doubtless due the transference to it of the name of\r\nthe God of War. In his \u201cRepublic,\u201d enumerating the seven\r\nplanets, Cicero speaks of the propitious and beneficent light of\r\nJupiter: \u201cTum (fulgor) rutilis horribilisque terris, quem Martium\r\ndicitis\u201d \u2014  \u201cThen the red glow, horrible to the nations, which\r\nyou say to be that of Mars.\u201d Boccaccio opens the \u201cTheseida\u201d by\r\nan invocation to \u201crubicondo Marte.\u201d\r\n\r\n38. Last: lace, leash, noose, snare: from Latin, \u201claceus.\u201d\r\n\r\n39. \u201cRound was the shape, in manner of compass,\r\nFull of degrees, the height of sixty pas\u201d\r\nThe building was a circle of steps or benches, as in the ancient\r\namphitheatre. Either the building was sixty paces high; or, more\r\nprobably, there were sixty of the steps or benches.\r\n\r\n40. Yellow goldes: The sunflower, turnsol, or girasol, which\r\nturns with and seems to watch the sun, as a jealous lover his\r\nmistress.\r\n\r\n41. Citheron: The Isle of Venus, Cythera, in the Aegean Sea;\r\nnow called Cerigo: not, as Chaucer\u2019s form of the word might\r\nimply, Mount Cithaeron, in the south-west of Boetia, which was\r\nappropriated to other deities than Venus \u2014 to Jupiter, to\r\nBacchus, and the Muses.\r\n\r\n42. It need not be said that Chaucer pays slight heed to\r\nchronology in this passage, where the deeds of Turnus, the\r\nglory of King Solomon, and the fate of Croesus are made\r\nmemories of the far past in the time of fabulous Theseus, the\r\nMinotaur-slayer.\r\n\r\n43. Champartie: divided power or possession; an old law-term,\r\nsignifying the maintenance of a person in a law suit on the\r\ncondition of receiving part of the property in dispute, if\r\nrecovered.\r\n\r\n44. Citole: a kind of dulcimer.\r\n\r\n45. The picke-purse:  The plunderers that followed armies, and\r\ngave to war a horror all their own.\r\n\r\n46. Shepen: stable;  Anglo-Saxon, \u201cscypen;\u201d the word\r\n\u201csheppon\u201d still survives in provincial parlance.\r\n\r\n47. This line, perhaps, refers to the deed of Jael.\r\n\r\n48. The shippes hoppesteres: The meaning is dubious. We may\r\nunderstand \u201cthe dancing ships,\u201d \u201cthe ships that hop\u201d on the\r\nwaves; \u201csteres\u201d being taken as the feminine adjectival\r\ntermination: or we may, perhaps, read, with one of the\r\nmanuscripts, \u201cthe ships upon the steres\u201d \u2014 that is, even as they\r\nare being steered, or on the open sea \u2014 a more picturesque\r\nnotion.\r\n\r\n49. Freting: devouring; the Germans use \u201cFressen\u201d to mean\r\neating by animals, \u201cessen\u201d by men.\r\n\r\n50. Julius: i.e. Julius Caesar\r\n\r\n51. Puella and Rubeus were two figures in geomancy,\r\nrepresenting two constellations-the one signifying Mars\r\nretrograde, the other Mars direct.\r\n\r\n52. Calistope: or Callisto, daughter of Lycaon, seduced by\r\nJupiter, turned into a bear by Diana, and placed afterwards, with\r\nher son, as the Great Bear among the stars.\r\n\r\n53. Dane: Daphne, daughter of the river-god Peneus, in\r\nThessaly; she was beloved by Apollo, but to avoid his pursuit,\r\nshe was, at her own prayer, changed into a laurel-tree.\r\n\r\n54. As the goddess of Light, or the goddess who brings to light,\r\nDiana \u2014 as well as Juno \u2014 was invoked by women in childbirth:\r\nso Horace, Odes iii. 22, says:\u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cMontium custos nemorumque, Virgo,\r\nQuae laborantes utero puellas\r\nTer vocata audis adimisque leto,\r\nDiva triformis.\u201d\r\n\r\n(\u201cVirgin custodian of hills and groves, three-formed goddess\r\nwho hears and saves from death young women who call upon\r\nher thrice when in childbirth\u201d)\r\n\r\n55. Every deal:  in every part; \u201cdeal\u201d corresponds to the\r\nGerman \u201cTheil\u201d a portion.\r\n\r\n56. Sikerly: surely; German, \u201csicher;\u201d Scotch, \u201csikkar,\u201d certain.\r\nWhen Robert Bruce had escaped from England to assume the\r\nScottish crown, he stabbed Comyn before the altar at Dumfries;\r\nand, emerging from the church, was asked by his friend\r\nKirkpatrick if he had slain the traitor. \u201cI doubt it,\u201d said Bruce.\r\n\u201cDoubt,\u201d cried Kirkpatrick.  \u201cI\u2019ll mak sikkar;\u201d and he rushed\r\ninto the church, and despatched Comyn with repeated thrusts of\r\nhis dagger.\r\n\r\n57. Kemped: combed; the word survives in \u201cunkempt.\u201d\r\n\r\n58. Alauns: greyhounds, mastiffs; from the Spanish word\r\n\u201cAlano,\u201d signifying a mastiff.\r\n\r\n59. Y-ment: mixed; German, \u201cmengen,\u201d to mix.\r\n\r\n60. Prime: The time of early prayers, between six and nine in\r\nthe morning.\r\n\r\n61. On the dais: see note 32 to the Prologue.\r\n\r\n62. In her hour: in the hour of the day (two hours before\r\ndaybreak) which after the astrological system that divided the\r\ntwenty-four among the seven ruling planets, was under the\r\ninfluence of Venus.\r\n\r\n63. Adon: Adonis, a beautiful youth beloved of Venus, whose\r\ndeath by the tusk of a boar she deeply mourned.\r\n\r\n64. The third hour unequal: In the third planetary hour;\r\nPalamon had gone forth in the hour of Venus, two hours before\r\ndaybreak; the hour of Mercury intervened; the third hour was\r\nthat of Luna, or Diana.  \u201cUnequal\u201d refers to the astrological\r\ndivision of day and night, whatever their duration, into twelve\r\nparts, which of necessity varied in length with the season.\r\n\r\n65. Smoking: draping; hence the word \u201csmock;\u201d \u201csmokless,\u201d in\r\nChaucer, means naked.\r\n\r\n66. Cerrial: of the species of oak which Pliny, in his \u201cNatural\r\nHistory,\u201d calls \u201ccerrus.\u201d\r\n\r\n67. Stace of Thebes: Statius, the Roman who embodied in the\r\ntwelve books of his \u201cThebaid\u201d the ancient legends connected\r\nwith the war of the seven against Thebes.\r\n\r\n68. Diana was Luna in heaven, Diana on earth, and Hecate in\r\nhell; hence the direction of the eyes of her statue to \u201cPluto\u2019s\r\ndark region.\u201d  Her statue was set up where three ways met, so\r\nthat with a different face she looked down each of the three;\r\nfrom which she was called Trivia. See the quotation from\r\nHorace, note 54.\r\n\r\n69. Las: net; the invisible toils in which Hephaestus caught Ares\r\nand the faithless Aphrodite, and exposed them to the\r\n\u201cinextinguishable laughter\u201d of Olympus.\r\n\r\n70. Saturnus the cold: Here, as in \u201cMars the Red\u201d we have the\r\nperson of the deity endowed with the supposed quality of the\r\nplanet called after his name.\r\n\r\n71. The astrologers ascribed great power to Saturn, and\r\npredicted \u201cmuch debate\u201d under his ascendancy; hence it was\r\n\u201cagainst his kind\u201d to compose the heavenly strife.\r\n\r\n72. Ayel: grandfather; French \u201cAieul\u201d.\r\n\r\n73. Testers: Helmets; from the French \u201cteste\u201d, \u201ctete\u201d, head.\r\n\r\n74. Parements: ornamental garb, French \u201cparer\u201d to deck.\r\n\r\n75. Gniding: Rubbing, polishing; Anglo-Saxon \u201cgnidan\u201d, to rub.\r\n\r\n76. Nakeres: Drums, used in the cavalry; Boccaccio\u2019s word is\r\n\u201cnachere\u201d.\r\n\r\n77. Made an O: Ho! Ho! to command attention; like \u201coyez\u201d, the\r\ncall for silence in law-courts or before proclamations.\r\n\r\n78. Sarge: serge, a coarse woollen cloth\r\n\r\n79. Heart-spoon: The concave part of the breast, where the\r\nlower ribs join the cartilago ensiformis.\r\n\r\n80. To-hewen and to-shred:  \u201cto\u201d before a verb implies\r\nextraordinary violence in the action denoted.\r\n\r\n81. He through the thickest of the throng etc.. \u201cHe\u201d in this\r\npassage refers impersonally to any of the combatants.\r\n\r\n82. Galaphay: Galapha, in Mauritania.\r\n\r\n83. Belmarie is supposed to have been a Moorish state in\r\nAfrica; but \u201cPalmyrie\u201d has been suggested as the correct\r\nreading.\r\n\r\n84. As I came never I cannot telle where: Where it went I\r\ncannot tell you, as I was not there.  Tyrwhitt thinks that\r\nChaucer is sneering at Boccacio\u2019s pompous account of the\r\npassage of Arcite\u2019s soul to heaven. Up to this point, the\r\ndescription of the death-scene is taken literally from the\r\n\u201cTheseida.\u201d\r\n\r\n85. With sluttery beard, and ruggy ashy hairs: With neglected\r\nbeard, and rough hair strewn with ashes. \u201cFlotery\u201d is the general\r\nreading; but \u201csluttery\u201d seems to be more in keeping with the\r\npicture of abandonment to grief.\r\n\r\n86. Master street: main street; so Froissart speaks of \u201cle\r\nsouverain carrefour.\u201d\r\n\r\n87. Y-wrie: covered, hid; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cwrigan,\u201d to veil.\r\n\r\n88. Emily applied the funeral torch. The \u201cguise\u201d was, among the\r\nancients, for the nearest relative of the deceased to do this, with\r\naverted face.\r\n\r\n89. It was the custom for soldiers to march thrice around the\r\nfuneral pile of an emperor or general; \u201con the left hand\u201d is\r\nadded, in reference to the belief that the left hand was\r\npropitious \u2014 the Roman augur turning his face southward, and\r\nso placing on his left hand the east, whence good omens came.\r\nWith the Greeks, however, their augurs facing the north, it was\r\njust the contrary. The confusion, frequent in classical writers, is\r\ncomplicated here by the fact that Chaucer\u2019s description of the\r\nfuneral of Arcite is taken from Statius\u2019 \u201cThebaid\u201d \u2014 from a\r\nRoman\u2019s account of a Greek solemnity.\r\n\r\n90. Lyke-wake: watching by the remains of the dead; from\r\nAnglo-Saxon, \u201clice,\u201d a corpse; German, \u201cLeichnam.\u201d\r\n\r\n91. Chaucer here borrows from Boethius, who says:\r\n\u201cHanc rerum seriem ligat,\r\nTerras ac pelagus regens,\r\nEt coelo imperitans, amor.\u201d\r\n(Love ties these things together: the earth, and the ruling sea,\r\nand the imperial heavens)\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE MILLER\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nWhen that the Knight had thus his tale told\r\nIn all the rout was neither young nor old,\r\nThat he not said it was a noble story,\r\nAnd worthy to be *drawen to memory*;                          *recorded*\r\nAnd *namely the gentles* every one.          *especially the gentlefolk*\r\nOur Host then laugh\u2019d and swore, \u201cSo may I gon,*                *prosper\r\nThis goes aright; *unbuckled is the mail;*        *the budget is opened*\r\nLet see now who shall tell another tale:\r\nFor truely this game is well begun.\r\nNow telleth ye, Sir Monk, if that ye conne*,                       *know\r\nSomewhat, to quiten* with the Knighte\u2019s tale.\u201d                    *match\r\nThe Miller that fordrunken was all pale,\r\nSo that unnethes* upon his horse he sat,                *with difficulty\r\nHe would avalen* neither hood nor hat,                          *uncover\r\nNor abide* no man for his courtesy,                         *give way to\r\nBut in Pilate\u2019s voice<1> he gan to cry,\r\nAnd swore by armes, and by blood, and bones,\r\n\u201cI can a noble tale for the nones*                            *occasion,\r\nWith which I will now quite* the Knighte\u2019s tale.\u201d                 *match\r\nOur Host saw well how drunk he was of ale,\r\nAnd said; \u201cRobin, abide, my leve* brother,                         *dear\r\nSome better man shall tell us first another:\r\nAbide, and let us worke thriftily.\u201d\r\nBy Godde\u2019s soul,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthat will not I,\r\nFor I will speak, or elles go my way!\u201d\r\nOur Host answer\u2019d; \u201c*Tell on a devil way*;             *devil take you!*\r\nThou art a fool; thy wit is overcome.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow hearken,\u201d quoth the Miller, \u201call and some:\r\nBut first I make a protestatioun.\r\nThat I am drunk, I know it by my soun\u2019:\r\nAnd therefore if that I misspeak or say,\r\n*Wite it* the ale of Southwark, I you pray:             *blame it on*<2>\r\nFor I will tell a legend and a life\r\nBoth of a carpenter and of his wife,\r\nHow that a clerk hath *set the wrighte\u2019s cap*.\u201d   *fooled the carpenter*\r\nThe Reeve answer\u2019d and saide, \u201c*Stint thy clap*,      *hold your tongue*\r\nLet be thy lewed drunken harlotry.\r\nIt is a sin, and eke a great folly\r\nTo apeiren* any man, or him defame,                              *injure\r\nAnd eke to bringe wives in evil name.\r\nThou may\u2019st enough of other thinges sayn.\u201d\r\nThis drunken Miller spake full soon again,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cLeve brother Osewold,\r\nWho hath no wife, he is no cuckold.\r\nBut I say not therefore that thou art one;\r\nThere be full goode wives many one.\r\nWhy art thou angry with my tale now?\r\nI have a wife, pardie, as well as thou,\r\nYet *n\u2019old I*, for the oxen in my plough,                  *I would not*\r\nTaken upon me more than enough,\r\nTo deemen* of myself that I am one;                               *judge\r\nI will believe well that I am none.\r\nAn husband should not be inquisitive\r\nOf Godde\u2019s privity, nor of his wife.\r\nSo he may finde Godde\u2019s foison* there,                         *treasure\r\nOf the remnant needeth not to enquere.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhat should I more say, but that this Millere\r\nHe would his wordes for no man forbear,\r\nBut told his churlish* tale in his mannere;               *boorish, rude\r\nMe thinketh, that I shall rehearse it here.\r\nAnd therefore every gentle wight I pray,\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love to deem not that I say\r\nOf evil intent, but that I must rehearse\r\nTheir tales all, be they better or worse,\r\nOr elles falsen* some of my mattere.                            *falsify\r\nAnd therefore whoso list it not to hear,\r\nTurn o\u2019er the leaf, and choose another tale;\r\nFor he shall find enough, both great and smale,\r\nOf storial* thing that toucheth gentiless,             *historical, true\r\nAnd eke morality and holiness.\r\nBlame not me, if that ye choose amiss.\r\nThe Miller is a churl, ye know well this,\r\nSo was the Reeve, with many other mo\u2019,\r\nAnd harlotry* they tolde bothe two.                        *ribald tales\r\n*Avise you* now, and put me out of blame;                    *be warned*\r\nAnd eke men should not make earnest of game*.                 *jest, fun\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Miller\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Pilate, an unpopular personage in the mystery-plays of the\r\nmiddle ages, was probably represented as having a gruff, harsh\r\nvoice.\r\n\r\n2. Wite: blame; in Scotland, \u201cto bear the wyte,\u201d is to bear the\r\nblame.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.\r\n\r\nWhilom there was dwelling in Oxenford\r\nA riche gnof*, that *guestes held to board*,   *miser *took in boarders*\r\nAnd of his craft he was a carpenter.\r\nWith him there was dwelling a poor scholer,\r\nHad learned art, but all his fantasy\r\nWas turned for to learn astrology.\r\nHe coude* a certain of conclusions                                 *knew\r\nTo deeme* by interrogations,                                  *determine\r\nIf that men asked him in certain hours,\r\nWhen that men should have drought or elles show\u2019rs:\r\nOr if men asked him what shoulde fall\r\nOf everything, I may not reckon all.\r\n\r\nThis clerk was called Hendy* Nicholas;                 *gentle, handsome\r\nOf derne* love he knew and of solace;                   *secret, earnest\r\nAnd therewith he was sly and full privy,\r\nAnd like a maiden meek for to see.\r\nA chamber had he in that hostelry\r\nAlone, withouten any company,\r\nFull *fetisly y-dight* with herbes swoot*,            *neatly decorated*\r\nAnd he himself was sweet as is the root                           *sweet\r\nOf liquorice, or any setewall*.                                *valerian\r\nHis Almagest,<1> and bookes great and small,\r\nHis astrolabe,<2>  belonging to his art,\r\nHis augrim stones,<3> layed fair apart\r\nOn shelves couched* at his bedde\u2019s head,                      *laid, set\r\nHis press y-cover\u2019d with a falding* red.                   *coarse cloth\r\nAnd all above there lay a gay psalt\u2019ry\r\nOn which he made at nightes melody,\r\nSo sweetely, that all the chamber rang:\r\nAnd Angelus ad virginem<4> he sang.\r\nAnd after that he sung the kinge\u2019s note;\r\nFull often blessed was his merry throat.\r\nAnd thus this sweete clerk his time spent\r\nAfter *his friendes finding and his rent.*    *Attending to his friends,\r\n                                                   and providing for the\r\n                                                    cost of his lodging*\r\nThis carpenter had wedded new a wife,\r\nWhich that he loved more than his life:\r\nOf eighteen year, I guess, she was of age.\r\nJealous he was, and held her narr\u2019w in cage,\r\nFor she was wild and young, and he was old,\r\nAnd deemed himself belike* a cuckold.                           *perhaps\r\nHe knew not Cato,<5> for his wit was rude,\r\nThat bade a man wed his similitude.\r\nMen shoulde wedden after their estate,\r\nFor youth and eld* are often at debate.                             *age\r\nBut since that he was fallen in the snare,\r\nHe must endure (as other folk) his care.\r\nFair was this younge wife, and therewithal\r\nAs any weasel her body gent* and small.                      *slim, neat\r\nA seint* she weared, barred all of silk,                         *girdle\r\nA barm-cloth* eke as white as morning milk                     *apron<6>\r\nUpon her lendes*, full of many a gore**.                  *loins **plait\r\nWhite was her smock*, and broider\u2019d all before,            *robe or gown\r\nAnd eke behind, on her collar about\r\nOf coal-black silk, within and eke without.\r\nThe tapes of her white volupere*                      *head-kerchief <7>\r\nWere of the same suit of her collere;\r\nHer fillet broad of silk, and set full high:\r\nAnd sickerly* she had a likerous** eye.          *certainly **lascivious\r\nFull small y-pulled were her browes two,\r\nAnd they were bent*, and black as any sloe.                      *arched\r\nShe was well more *blissful on to see*           *pleasant to look upon*\r\nThan is the newe perjenete* tree;                       *young pear-tree\r\nAnd softer than the wool is of a wether.\r\nAnd by her girdle hung a purse of leather,\r\nTassel\u2019d with silk, and *pearled with latoun*.   *set with brass pearls*\r\nIn all this world to seeken up and down\r\nThere is no man so wise, that coude thenche*            *fancy, think of\r\nSo gay a popelot*, or such a wench.                          *puppet <8>\r\nFull brighter was the shining of her hue,\r\nThan in the Tower the noble* forged new.                *a gold coin <9>\r\nBut of her song, it was as loud and yern*,                  *lively <10>\r\nAs any swallow chittering on a bern*.                              *barn\r\nThereto* she coulde skip, and *make a game*                 *also *romp*\r\nAs any kid or calf following his dame.\r\nHer mouth was sweet as braket,<11> or as methe*                    *mead\r\nOr hoard of apples, laid in hay or heath.\r\nWincing* she was as is a jolly colt,                           *skittish\r\nLong as a mast, and upright as a bolt.\r\nA brooch she bare upon her low collere,\r\nAs broad as is the boss of a bucklere.\r\nHer shoon were laced on her legges high;\r\nShe was a primerole,* a piggesnie <12>,                        *primrose\r\nFor any lord t\u2019 have ligging* in his bed,                         *lying\r\nOr yet for any good yeoman to wed.\r\n\r\nNow, sir, and eft* sir, so befell the case,                       *again\r\nThat on a day this Hendy Nicholas\r\nFell with this younge wife to rage* and play,       *toy, play the rogue\r\nWhile that her husband was at Oseney,<13>\r\nAs clerkes be full subtle and full quaint.\r\nAnd privily he caught her by the queint,*                          *cunt\r\nAnd said; \u201cY-wis,* but if I have my will,                     *assuredly\r\nFor *derne love of thee, leman, I spill.\u201d*     *for earnest love of thee\r\nAnd helde her fast by the haunche bones,          my mistress, I perish*\r\nAnd saide \u201cLeman, love me well at once,\r\nOr I will dien, all so God me save.\u201d\r\nAnd she sprang as a colt doth in the trave<14>:\r\nAnd with her head she writhed fast away,\r\nAnd said; \u201cI will not kiss thee, by my fay*.                      *faith\r\nWhy let be,\u201d quoth she, \u201clet be, Nicholas,\r\nOr I will cry out harow and alas!<15>\r\nDo away your handes, for your courtesy.\u201d\r\nThis Nicholas gan mercy for to cry,\r\nAnd spake so fair, and proffer\u2019d him so fast,\r\nThat she her love him granted at the last,\r\nAnd swore her oath by Saint Thomas of Kent,\r\nThat she would be at his commandement,\r\nWhen that she may her leisure well espy.\r\n\u201cMy husband is so full of jealousy,\r\nThat but* ye waite well, and be privy,                           *unless\r\nI wot right well I am but dead,\u201d quoth she.\r\n\u201cYe muste be full derne* as in this case.\u201d                       *secret\r\n\u201cNay, thereof care thee nought,\u201d quoth Nicholas:\r\n\u201cA clerk had *litherly beset his while*,            *ill spent his time*\r\n*But if* he could a carpenter beguile.\u201d                          *unless\r\nAnd thus they were accorded and y-sworn\r\nTo wait a time, as I have said beforn.\r\nWhen Nicholas had done thus every deal*,                           *whit\r\nAnd thwacked her about the lendes* well,                          *loins\r\nHe kiss\u2019d her sweet, and taketh his psalt\u2019ry\r\nAnd playeth fast, and maketh melody.\r\nThen fell it thus, that to the parish church,\r\nOf Christe\u2019s owen workes for to wirch*,                            *work\r\nThis good wife went upon a holy day;\r\nHer forehead shone as bright as any day,\r\nSo was it washen, when she left her werk.\r\n\r\nNow was there of that church a parish clerk,\r\nThe which that was y-cleped Absolon.\r\nCurl\u2019d was his hair, and as the gold it shone,\r\nAnd strutted* as a fanne large and broad;                     *stretched\r\nFull straight and even lay his jolly shode*.               *head of hair\r\nHis rode* was red, his eyen grey as goose,                   *complexion\r\nWith Paule\u2019s windows carven on his shoes <16>\r\nIn hosen red he went full fetisly*.                    *daintily, neatly\r\nY-clad he was full small and properly,\r\nAll in a kirtle* of a light waget*;                   *girdle **sky blue\r\nFull fair and thicke be the pointes set,\r\nAnd thereupon he had a gay surplice,\r\nAs white as is the blossom on the rise*.                      *twig <17>\r\nA merry child he was, so God me save;\r\nWell could he letten blood, and clip, and shave,\r\nAnd make a charter of land, and a quittance.\r\nIn twenty manners could he trip and dance,\r\nAfter the school of Oxenforde tho*,<18>                            *then\r\nAnd with his legges caste to and fro;\r\nAnd playen songes on a small ribible*;                           *fiddle\r\nThereto he sung sometimes a loud quinible*                       *treble\r\nAnd as well could he play on a gitern.*                          *guitar\r\nIn all the town was brewhouse nor tavern,\r\nThat he not visited with his solas*,                       *mirth, sport\r\nThere as that any *garnard tapstere* was.           *licentious barmaid*\r\nBut sooth to say he was somedeal squaimous*                   *squeamish\r\nOf farting, and of speeche dangerous.\r\nThis Absolon, that jolly was and gay,\r\nWent with a censer on the holy day,\r\nCensing* the wives of the parish fast;              *burning incense for\r\nAnd many a lovely look he on them cast,\r\nAnd namely* on this carpenter\u2019s wife:                        *especially\r\nTo look on her him thought a merry life.\r\nShe was so proper, and sweet, and likerous.\r\nI dare well say, if she had been a mouse,\r\nAnd he a cat, he would *her hent anon*.           *have soon caught her*\r\nThis parish clerk, this jolly Absolon,\r\nHath in his hearte such a love-longing!\r\nThat of no wife took he none offering;\r\nFor courtesy he said he woulde none.\r\nThe moon at night full clear and brighte shone,\r\nAnd Absolon his gitern hath y-taken,\r\nFor paramours he thoughte for to waken,\r\nAnd forth he went, jolif* and amorous,                           *joyous\r\nTill he came to the carpentere\u2019s house,\r\nA little after the cock had y-crow,\r\nAnd *dressed him* under a shot window <19>,         *stationed himself.*\r\nThat was upon the carpentere\u2019s wall.\r\nHe singeth in his voice gentle and small;\r\n\u201cNow, dear lady, if thy will be,\r\nI pray that ye will rue* on me;\u201d                              *take pity\r\nFull well accordant to his giterning.\r\nThis carpenter awoke, and heard him sing,\r\nAnd spake unto his wife, and said anon,\r\nWhat Alison, hear\u2019st thou not Absolon,\r\nThat chanteth thus under our bower* wall?\u201d                      *chamber\r\nAnd she answer\u2019d her husband therewithal;\r\n\u201cYes, God wot, John, I hear him every deal.\u201d\r\nThis passeth forth; what will ye bet* than well?                 *better\r\n\r\nFrom day to day this jolly Absolon\r\nSo wooeth her, that him is woebegone.\r\nHe waketh all the night, and all the day,\r\nTo comb his lockes broad, and make him gay.\r\nHe wooeth her *by means and by brocage*,     *by presents and by agents*\r\nAnd swore he woulde be her owen page.\r\nHe singeth brokking* as a nightingale.                        *quavering\r\nHe sent her piment <20>, mead, and spiced ale,\r\nAnd wafers* piping hot out of the glede**:                *cakes **coals\r\nAnd, for she was of town, he proffer\u2019d meed.<21>\r\nFor some folk will be wonnen for richess,\r\nAnd some for strokes, and some with gentiless.\r\nSometimes, to show his lightness and mast\u2019ry,\r\nHe playeth Herod <22> on a scaffold high.\r\nBut what availeth him as in this case?\r\nSo loveth she the Hendy Nicholas,\r\nThat Absolon may *blow the bucke\u2019s horn*:                 *\u201cgo whistle\u201d*\r\nHe had for all his labour but a scorn.\r\nAnd thus she maketh Absolon her ape,\r\nAnd all his earnest turneth to a jape*.                            *jest\r\nFull sooth is this proverb, it is no lie;\r\nMen say right thus alway; the nighe sly\r\nMaketh oft time the far lief to be loth. <23>\r\nFor though that Absolon be wood* or wroth                           *mad\r\nBecause that he far was from her sight,\r\nThis nigh Nicholas stood still in his light.\r\nNow bear thee well, thou Hendy Nicholas,\r\nFor Absolon may wail and sing \u201cAlas!\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd so befell, that on a Saturday\r\nThis carpenter was gone to Oseney,\r\nAnd Hendy Nicholas and Alison\r\nAccorded were to this conclusion,\r\nThat Nicholas shall *shape him a wile*              *devise a stratagem*\r\nThe silly jealous husband to beguile;\r\nAnd if so were the game went aright,\r\nShe shoulde sleepen in his arms all night;\r\nFor this was her desire and his also.\r\nAnd right anon, withoute wordes mo\u2019,\r\nThis Nicholas no longer would he tarry,\r\nBut doth full soft unto his chamber carry\r\nBoth meat and drinke for a day or tway.\r\nAnd to her husband bade her for to say,\r\nIf that he asked after Nicholas,\r\nShe shoulde say, \u201cShe wist* not where he was;                      *knew\r\nOf all the day she saw him not with eye;\r\nShe trowed* he was in some malady,                             *believed\r\nFor no cry that her maiden could him call\r\nHe would answer, for nought that might befall.\u201d\r\nThus passed forth all thilke* Saturday,                            *that\r\nThat Nicholas still in his chamber lay,\r\nAnd ate, and slept, and didde what him list\r\nTill Sunday, that* the sunne went to rest.                         *when\r\nThis silly carpenter *had great marvaill*             *wondered greatly*\r\nOf Nicholas, or what thing might him ail,\r\nAnd said; \u201cI am adrad*, by Saint Thomas!               *afraid, in dread\r\nIt standeth not aright with Nicholas:\r\n*God shielde* that he died suddenly.                    *heaven forbid!*\r\nThis world is now full fickle sickerly*.                      *certainly\r\nI saw to-day a corpse y-borne to chirch,\r\nThat now on Monday last I saw him wirch*.                          *work\r\n\u201cGo up,\u201d quod he unto his knave*, \u201canon;                       *servant.\r\nClepe* at his door, or knocke with a stone:                        *call\r\nLook how it is, and tell me boldely.\u201d\r\nThis knave went him up full sturdily,\r\nAnd, at the chamber door while that he stood,\r\nHe cried and knocked as that he were wood:*                         *mad\r\n\u201cWhat how? what do ye, Master Nicholay?\r\nHow may ye sleepen all the longe day?\u201d\r\nBut all for nought, he hearde not a word.\r\nAn hole he found full low upon the board,\r\nWhere as the cat was wont in for to creep,\r\nAnd at that hole he looked in full deep,\r\nAnd at the last he had of him a sight.\r\nThis Nicholas sat ever gaping upright,\r\nAs he had kyked* on the newe moon.                          *looked <24>\r\nAdown he went, and told his master soon,\r\nIn what array he saw this ilke* man.                               *same\r\n\r\nThis carpenter to *blissen him* began,            *bless, cross himself*\r\nAnd said: \u201cNow help us, Sainte Frideswide.<25>\r\nA man wot* little what shall him betide.                          *knows\r\nThis man is fall\u2019n with his astronomy\r\nInto some woodness* or some agony.                              *madness\r\nI thought aye well how that it shoulde be.\r\nMen should know nought of Godde\u2019s privity*.                     *secrets\r\nYea, blessed be alway a lewed* man,                           *unlearned\r\nThat *nought but only his believe can*.                   *knows no more\r\nSo far\u2019d another clerk with astronomy:                than his \u201ccredo.\u201d*\r\nHe walked in the fieldes for to *pry\r\nUpon* the starres, what there should befall,             *keep watch on*\r\nTill he was in a marle pit y-fall.<26>\r\nHe saw not that. But yet, by Saint Thomas!\r\n*Me rueth sore of*  Hendy Nicholas:                *I am very sorry for*\r\nHe shall be *rated of* his studying,                       *chidden for*\r\nIf that I may, by Jesus, heaven\u2019s king!\r\nGet me a staff, that I may underspore*                         *lever up\r\nWhile that thou, Robin, heavest off the door:\r\nHe shall out of his studying, as I guess.\u201d\r\nAnd to the chamber door he gan him dress*                *apply himself.\r\nHis knave was a strong carl for the nonce,\r\nAnd by the hasp he heav\u2019d it off at once;\r\nInto the floor the door fell down anon.\r\nThis Nicholas sat aye as still as stone,\r\nAnd ever he gap\u2019d upward into the air.\r\nThe carpenter ween\u2019d* he were in despair,                       *thought\r\nAnd hent* him by the shoulders mightily,                         *caught\r\nAnd shook him hard, and cried spitously;*                       *angrily\r\n\u201cWhat, Nicholas? what how, man? look adown:\r\nAwake, and think on Christe\u2019s passioun.\r\nI crouche thee<27> from elves, and from wights*.                *witches\r\nTherewith the night-spell said he anon rights*,                *properly\r\nOn the four halves* of the house about,                         *corners\r\nAnd on the threshold of the door without.\r\n\u201cLord Jesus Christ, and Sainte Benedight,\r\nBlesse this house from every wicked wight,\r\nFrom the night mare, the white Pater-noster;\r\nWhere wonnest* thou now, Sainte Peter\u2019s sister?\u201d               *dwellest\r\nAnd at the last this Hendy Nicholas\r\nGan for to sigh full sore, and said; \u201cAlas!\r\nShall all time world be lost eftsoones* now?\u201d                 *forthwith\r\nThis carpenter answer\u2019d; \u201cWhat sayest thou?\r\nWhat? think on God, as we do, men that swink.*\u201d                  *labour\r\nThis Nicholas answer\u2019d; \u201cFetch me a drink;\r\nAnd after will I speak in privity\r\nOf certain thing that toucheth thee and me:\r\nI will tell it no other man certain.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis carpenter went down, and came again,\r\nAnd brought of mighty ale a large quart;\r\nAnd when that each of them had drunk his part,\r\nThis Nicholas his chamber door fast shet*,                         *shut\r\nAnd down the carpenter by him he set,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cJohn, mine host full lief* and dear,                  *loved\r\nThou shalt upon thy truthe swear me here,\r\nThat to no wight thou shalt my counsel wray*:                    *betray\r\nFor it is Christes counsel that I say,\r\nAnd if thou tell it man, thou art forlore:*                    *lost<28>\r\nFor this vengeance thou shalt have therefor,\r\nThat if thou wraye* me, thou shalt be wood**.\u201d             *betray **mad\r\n\u201cNay, Christ forbid it for his holy blood!\u201d\r\nQuoth then this silly man; \u201cI am no blab,*                       *talker\r\nNor, though I say it, am I *lief to gab*.               *fond of speech*\r\nSay what thou wilt, I shall it never tell\r\nTo child or wife, by him that harried Hell.\u201d                        <29>\r\n\r\n\u201cNow, John,\u201d quoth Nicholas, \u201cI will not lie,\r\nI have y-found in my astrology,\r\nAs I have looked in the moone bright,\r\nThat now on Monday next, at quarter night,\r\nShall fall a rain, and that so wild and wood*,                      *mad\r\nThat never half so great was Noe\u2019s flood.\r\nThis world,\u201d he said, \u201cin less than half an hour\r\nShall all be dreint*, so hideous is the shower:                 *drowned\r\nThus shall mankinde drench*, and lose their life.\u201d                *drown\r\nThis carpenter answer\u2019d; \u201cAlas, my wife!\r\nAnd shall she drench? alas, mine Alisoun!\u201d\r\nFor sorrow of this he fell almost adown,\r\nAnd said; \u201cIs there no remedy in this case?\u201d\r\n\u201cWhy, yes, for God,\u201d quoth Hendy Nicholas;\r\n\u201cIf thou wilt worken after *lore and rede*;        *learning and advice*\r\nThou may\u2019st not worken after thine own head.\r\nFor thus saith Solomon, that was full true:\r\nWork all by counsel, and thou shalt not rue*.                    *repent\r\nAnd if thou worke wilt by good counseil,\r\nI undertake, withoute mast or sail,\r\nYet shall I save her, and thee, and me.\r\nHast thou not heard how saved was Noe,\r\nWhen that our Lord had warned him beforn,\r\nThat all the world with water *should be lorn*?\u201d         *should perish*\r\n\u201cYes,\u201d quoth this carpenter,\u201d *full yore ago*.\u201d             *long since*\r\n\u201cHast thou not heard,\u201d quoth Nicholas, \u201calso\r\nThe sorrow of Noe, with his fellowship,\r\nThat he had ere he got his wife to ship?<30>\r\n*Him had been lever, I dare well undertake,\r\nAt thilke time, than all his wethers black,\r\nThat she had had a ship herself alone.*                   *see note <31>\r\nAnd therefore know\u2019st thou what is best to be done?\r\nThis asketh haste, and of an hasty thing\r\nMen may not preach or make tarrying.\r\nAnon go get us fast into this inn*                                *house\r\nA kneading trough, or else a kemelin*,                      *brewing-tub\r\nFor each of us; but look that they be large,\r\nIn whiche we may swim* as in a barge:                             *float\r\nAnd have therein vitaille suffisant\r\nBut for one day; fie on the remenant;\r\nThe water shall aslake* and go away                      *slacken, abate\r\nAboute prime* upon the nexte day.                         *early morning\r\nBut Robin may not know of this, thy knave*,                     *servant\r\nNor eke thy maiden Gill I may not save:\r\nAsk me not why: for though thou aske me\r\nI will not telle Godde\u2019s privity.\r\nSufficeth thee, *but if thy wit be mad*,                 *unless thou be\r\nTo have as great a grace as Noe had;                    out of thy wits*\r\nThy wife shall I well saven out of doubt.\r\nGo now thy way, and speed thee hereabout.\r\nBut when thou hast for her, and thee, and me,\r\nY-gotten us these kneading tubbes three,\r\nThen shalt thou hang them in the roof full high,\r\nSo that no man our purveyance* espy:              *foresight, providence\r\nAnd when thou hast done thus as I have said,\r\nAnd hast our vitaille fair in them y-laid,\r\nAnd eke an axe to smite the cord in two\r\nWhen that the water comes, that we may go,\r\nAnd break an hole on high upon the gable\r\nInto the garden-ward, over the stable,\r\nThat we may freely passe forth our way,\r\nWhen that the greate shower is gone away.\r\nThen shalt thou swim as merry, I undertake,\r\nAs doth the white duck after her drake:\r\nThen will I clepe,* \u2018How, Alison? How, John?                       *call\r\nBe merry: for the flood will pass anon.\u2019\r\nAnd thou wilt say, \u2018Hail, Master Nicholay,\r\nGood-morrow, I see thee well, for it is day.\u2019\r\nAnd then shall we be lordes all our life\r\nOf all the world, as Noe and his wife.\r\nBut of one thing I warne thee full right,\r\nBe well advised, on that ilke* night,                              *same\r\nWhen we be enter\u2019d into shippe\u2019s board,\r\nThat none of us not speak a single word,\r\nNor clepe nor cry, but be in his prayere,\r\nFor that is Godde\u2019s owen heste* dear.                           *command\r\nThy wife and thou must hangen far atween*,                      *asunder\r\nFor that betwixte you shall be no sin,\r\nNo more in looking than there shall in deed.\r\nThis ordinance is said: go, God thee speed\r\nTo-morrow night, when men be all asleep,\r\nInto our kneading tubbes will we creep,\r\nAnd sitte there, abiding Godde\u2019s grace.\r\nGo now thy way, I have no longer space\r\nTo make of this no longer sermoning:\r\nMen say thus: Send the wise, and say nothing:\r\nThou art so wise, it needeth thee nought teach.\r\nGo, save our lives, and that I thee beseech.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis silly carpenter went forth his way,\r\nFull oft he said, \u201cAlas! and Well-a-day!,\u2019\r\nAnd to his wife he told his privity,\r\nAnd she was ware, and better knew than he\r\nWhat all this *quainte cast was for to say*.        *strange contrivance\r\nBut natheless she fear\u2019d as she would dey,                        meant*\r\nAnd said: \u201cAlas! go forth thy way anon.\r\nHelp us to scape, or we be dead each one.\r\nI am thy true and very wedded wife;\r\nGo, deare spouse, and help to save our life.\u201d\r\nLo, what a great thing is affection!\r\nMen may die of imagination,\r\nSo deeply may impression be take.\r\nThis silly carpenter begins to quake:\r\nHe thinketh verily that he may see\r\nThis newe flood come weltering as the sea\r\nTo drenchen* Alison, his honey dear.                              *drown\r\nHe weepeth, waileth, maketh *sorry cheer*;          *dismal countenance*\r\nHe sigheth, with full many a sorry sough.*                        *groan\r\nHe go\u2019th, and getteth him a kneading trough,\r\nAnd after that a tub, and a kemelin,\r\nAnd privily he sent them to his inn:\r\nAnd hung them in the roof full privily.\r\nWith his own hand then made he ladders three,\r\nTo climbe by *the ranges and the stalks*    *the rungs and the uprights*\r\nUnto the tubbes hanging in the balks*;                            *beams\r\nAnd victualed them, kemelin, trough, and tub,\r\nWith bread and cheese, and good ale in a jub*,                      *jug\r\nSufficing right enough as for a day.\r\nBut ere that he had made all this array,\r\nHe sent his knave*, and eke his wench** also,            *servant **maid\r\nUpon his need* to London for to go.                            *business\r\nAnd on the Monday, when it drew to night,\r\nHe shut his door withoute candle light,\r\nAnd dressed* every thing as it should be.                      *prepared\r\nAnd shortly up they climbed all the three.\r\nThey satte stille well *a furlong way*.          *the time it would take\r\n\u201cNow, Pater noster, clum,\u201d<32> said Nicholay,         to walk a furlong*\r\nAnd \u201cclum,\u201d quoth John; and \u201cclum,\u201d said Alison:\r\nThis carpenter said his devotion,\r\nAnd still he sat and bidded his prayere,\r\nAwaking on the rain, if he it hear.\r\nThe deade sleep, for weary business,\r\nFell on this carpenter, right as I guess,\r\nAbout the curfew-time,<33> or little more,\r\nFor *travail of his ghost* he groaned sore,          *anguish of spirit*\r\n*And eft he routed, for his head mislay.*           *and then he snored,\r\nAdown the ladder stalked Nicholay;                for his head lay awry*\r\nAnd Alison full soft adown she sped.\r\nWithoute wordes more they went to bed,\r\n*There as* the carpenter was wont to lie:                        *where*\r\nThere was the revel, and the melody.\r\nAnd thus lay Alison and Nicholas,\r\nIn business of mirth and in solace,\r\nUntil the bell of laudes* gan to ring,       *morning service, at 3.a.m.\r\nAnd friars in the chancel went to sing.\r\n\r\nThis parish clerk, this amorous Absolon,\r\nThat is for love alway so woebegone,\r\nUpon the Monday was at Oseney\r\nWith company, him to disport and play;\r\nAnd asked upon cas* a cloisterer**                      *occasion **monk\r\nFull privily after John the carpenter;\r\nAnd he drew him apart out of the church,\r\nAnd said, \u201cI n\u2019ot;* I saw him not here wirch**          *know not **work\r\nSince Saturday; I trow that he be went\r\nFor timber, where our abbot hath him sent.\r\nAnd dwellen at the Grange a day or two:\r\nFor he is wont for timber for to go,\r\nOr else he is at his own house certain.\r\nWhere that he be, I cannot *soothly sayn.*\u201d              *say certainly*\r\nThis Absolon full jolly was and light,\r\nAnd thought, \u201cNow is the time to wake all night,\r\nFor sickerly* I saw him not stirring                          *certainly\r\nAbout his door, since day began to spring.\r\nSo may I thrive, but I shall at cock crow\r\nFull privily go knock at his window,\r\nThat stands full low upon his bower* wall:                      *chamber\r\nTo Alison then will I tellen all\r\nMy love-longing; for I shall not miss\r\nThat at the leaste way I shall her kiss.\r\nSome manner comfort shall I have, parfay*,                  *by my faith\r\nMy mouth hath itched all this livelong day:\r\nThat is a sign of kissing at the least.\r\nAll night I mette* eke I was at a feast.                         *dreamt\r\nTherefore I will go sleep an hour or tway,\r\nAnd all the night then will I wake and play.\u201d\r\nWhen that the first cock crowed had, anon\r\nUp rose this jolly lover Absolon,\r\nAnd him arrayed gay, *at point devise.*                *with exact care*\r\nBut first he chewed grains<34> and liquorice,\r\nTo smelle sweet, ere he had combed his hair.\r\nUnder his tongue a true love <35>  he bare,\r\nFor thereby thought he to be gracious.\r\n\r\nThen came he to the carpentere\u2019s house,\r\nAnd still he stood under the shot window;\r\nUnto his breast it raught*, it was so low;                      *reached\r\nAnd soft he coughed with a semisoun\u2019.*                         *low tone\r\n\u201cWhat do ye, honeycomb, sweet Alisoun?\r\nMy faire bird, my sweet cinamome*,                *cinnamon, sweet spice\r\nAwaken, leman* mine, and speak to me.                          *mistress\r\nFull little thinke ye upon my woe,\r\nThat for your love I sweat *there as* I go.                    *wherever\r\nNo wonder is that I do swelt* and sweat.                          *faint\r\nI mourn as doth a lamb after the teat\r\nY-wis*, leman, I have such love-longing,                      *certainly\r\nThat like a turtle* true is my mourning.                    *turtle-dove\r\nI may not eat, no more than a maid.\u201d\r\n\u201cGo from the window, thou jack fool,\u201d she said:\r\n\u201cAs help me God, it will not be, \u2018come ba* me.\u2019                    *kiss\r\nI love another, else I were to blame\u201d,\r\nWell better than thee, by Jesus, Absolon.\r\nGo forth thy way, or I will cast a stone;\r\nAnd let me sleep; *a twenty devil way*.         *twenty devils take ye!*\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth Absolon, \u201cand well away!\r\nThat true love ever was so ill beset:\r\nThen kiss me, since that it may be no bet*,                      *better\r\nFor Jesus\u2019 love, and for the love of me.\u201d\r\n\u201cWilt thou then go thy way therewith?\u201d , quoth she.\r\n\u201cYea, certes, leman,\u201d quoth this Absolon.\r\n\u201cThen make thee ready,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI come anon.\u201d\r\n[And unto Nicholas she said *full still*:               *in a low voice*\r\n\u201cNow peace, and thou shalt laugh anon thy fill.\u201d]<36>\r\nThis Absolon down set him on his knees,\r\nAnd said; \u201cI am a lord at all degrees:\r\nFor after this I hope there cometh more;\r\nLeman, thy grace, and, sweete bird, thine ore.*\u201d                 *favour\r\nThe window she undid, and that in haste.\r\n\u201cHave done,\u201d quoth she, \u201ccome off, and speed thee fast,\r\nLest that our neighebours should thee espy.\u201d\r\nThen Absolon gan wipe his mouth full dry.\r\nDark was the night as pitch or as the coal,\r\nAnd at the window she put out her hole,\r\nAnd Absolon him fell ne bet ne werse,\r\nBut with his mouth he kiss\u2019d her naked erse\r\nFull savourly. When he was ware of this,\r\nAback he start, and thought it was amiss;\r\nFor well he wist a woman hath no beard.\r\nHe felt a thing all rough, and long y-hair\u2019d,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cFy, alas! what have I do?\u201d\r\n\u201cTe he!\u201d quoth she, and clapt the window to;\r\nAnd Absolon went forth at sorry pace.\r\n\u201cA beard, a beard,\u201d said Hendy Nicholas;\r\n\u201cBy God\u2019s corpus, this game went fair and well.\u201d\r\nThis silly Absolon heard every deal*,                              *word\r\nAnd on his lip he gan for anger bite;\r\nAnd to himself he said, \u201cI shall thee quite*.     *requite, be even with\r\nWho rubbeth now, who frotteth* now his lips                        *rubs\r\nWith dust, with sand, with straw, with cloth, with chips,\r\nBut Absolon? that saith full oft, \u201cAlas!\r\nMy soul betake I unto Sathanas,\r\nBut me were lever* than all this town,\u201d quoth he                 *rather\r\nI this despite awroken* for to be.                             *revenged\r\nAlas! alas! that I have been y-blent*.\u201d                        *deceived\r\nHis hote love is cold, and all y-quent.*                       *quenched\r\nFor from that time that he had kiss\u2019d her erse,\r\nOf paramours he *sette not a kers,*                   *cared not a rush*\r\nFor he was healed of his malady;\r\nFull often paramours he gan defy,\r\nAnd weep as doth a child that hath been beat.\r\nA softe pace he went over the street\r\nUnto a smith, men callen Dan* Gerveis,                           *master\r\nThat in his forge smithed plough-harness;\r\nHe sharped share and culter busily.\r\nThis Absolon knocked all easily,\r\nAnd said; \u201cUndo, Gerveis, and that anon.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat, who art thou?\u201d \u201cIt is I, Absolon.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat? Absolon, what? Christe\u2019s sweete tree*,                     *cross\r\nWhy rise so rath*? hey! Benedicite,                               *early\r\nWhat aileth you? some gay girl,<37> God it wote,\r\nHath brought you thus upon the viretote:<38>\r\nBy Saint Neot, ye wot well what I mean.\u201d\r\nThis Absolon he raughte* not a bean                       *recked, cared\r\nOf all his play; no word again he gaf*,                           *spoke\r\nFor he had more tow on his distaff<39>\r\nThan Gerveis knew, and saide; \u201cFriend so dear,\r\nThat hote culter in the chimney here\r\nLend it to me, I have therewith to don*:                             *do\r\nI will it bring again to thee full soon.\u201d\r\nGerveis answered; \u201cCertes, were it gold,\r\nOr in a poke* nobles all untold,                                  *purse\r\nThou shouldst it have, as I am a true smith.\r\nHey! Christe\u2019s foot, what will ye do therewith?\u201d\r\n\u201cThereof,\u201d quoth Absolon, \u201cbe as be may;\r\nI shall well tell it thee another day:\u201d\r\nAnd caught the culter by the colde stele*.                       *handle\r\nFull soft out at the door he gan to steal,\r\nAnd went unto the carpentere\u2019s wall\r\nHe coughed first, and knocked therewithal\r\nUpon the window, light as he did ere*.                      *before <40>\r\nThis Alison answered; \u201cWho is there\r\nThat knocketh so? I warrant him a thief.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d quoth he, \u201cGod wot, my sweete lefe*,                   *love\r\nI am thine Absolon, my own darling.\r\nOf gold,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI have thee brought a ring,\r\nMy mother gave it me, so God me save!\r\nFull fine it is, and thereto well y-grave*:                    *engraved\r\nThis will I give to thee, if thou me kiss.\u201d\r\nNow Nicholas was risen up to piss,\r\nAnd thought he would *amenden all the jape*;          *improve the joke*\r\nHe shoulde kiss his erse ere that he scape:\r\nAnd up the window did he hastily,\r\nAnd out his erse he put full privily\r\nOver the buttock, to the haunche bone.\r\nAnd therewith spake this clerk, this Absolon,\r\n\u201cSpeak, sweete bird, I know not where thou art.\u201d\r\nThis Nicholas anon let fly a fart,\r\nAs great as it had been a thunder dent*;                     *peal, clap\r\nThat with the stroke he was well nigh y-blent*;                 *blinded\r\nBut he was ready with his iron hot,\r\nAnd Nicholas amid the erse he smote.\r\nOff went the skin an handbreadth all about.\r\nThe hote culter burned so his tout*,                             *breech\r\nThat for the smart he weened* he would die;                     *thought\r\nAs he were wood*, for woe he gan to cry,                            *mad\r\n\u201cHelp! water, water, help for Godde\u2019s heart!\u201d\r\n\r\nThis carpenter out of his slumber start,\r\nAnd heard one cry \u201cWater,\u201d as he were wood*,                        *mad\r\nAnd thought, \u201cAlas! now cometh Noe\u2019s flood.\u201d\r\nHe sat him up withoute wordes mo\u2019\r\nAnd with his axe he smote the cord in two;\r\nAnd down went all; he found neither to sell\r\nNor bread nor ale, till he came to the sell*,            *threshold <41>\r\nUpon the floor, and there in swoon he lay.\r\nUp started Alison and Nicholay,\r\nAnd cried out an \u201charow!\u201d <15>  in the street.\r\nThe neighbours alle, bothe small and great\r\nIn ranne, for to gauren* on this man,                             *stare\r\nThat yet in swoone lay, both pale and wan:\r\nFor with the fall he broken had his arm.\r\nBut stand he must unto his owen harm,\r\nFor when he spake, he was anon borne down\r\nWith Hendy Nicholas and Alisoun.\r\nThey told to every man that he was wood*;                           *mad\r\nHe was aghaste* so of Noe\u2019s flood,                               *afraid\r\nThrough phantasy, that of his vanity\r\nHe had y-bought him kneading-tubbes three,\r\nAnd had them hanged in the roof above;\r\nAnd that he prayed them for Godde\u2019s love\r\nTo sitten in the roof for company.\r\nThe folk gan laughen at his phantasy.\r\nInto the roof they kyken* and they gape,                    *peep, look.\r\nAnd turned all his harm into a jape*.                              *jest\r\nFor whatsoe\u2019er this carpenter answer\u2019d,\r\nIt was for nought, no man his reason heard.\r\nWith oathes great he was so sworn adown,\r\nThat he was holden wood in all the town.\r\nFor every clerk anon right held with other;\r\nThey said, \u201cThe man was wood, my leve* brother;\u201d                   *dear\r\nAnd every wight gan laughen at his strife.\r\nThus swived* was the carpentere\u2019s wife,                         *enjoyed\r\nFor all his keeping* and his jealousy;                             *care\r\nAnd Absolon hath kiss\u2019d her nether eye;\r\nAnd Nicholas is scalded in the tout.\r\nThis tale is done, and God save all the rout*.                  *company\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Miller\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Almagest: The book of Ptolemy the astronomer, which\r\nformed the canon of astrological science in the middle ages.\r\n\r\n2. Astrolabe:  \u201cAstrelagour,\u201d \u201castrelabore\u201d; a mathematical\r\ninstrument for taking the altitude of the sun or stars.\r\n\r\n3. \u201cAugrim\u201d is a corruption of algorithm, the Arabian term for\r\nnumeration; \u201caugrim stones,\u201d therefore were probably marked\r\nwith numerals, and used as counters.\r\n\r\n4. Angelus ad virginem: The Angel\u2019s salutation to Mary; Luke i.\r\n28.  It was the \u201cAve Maria\u201d of the Catholic Church service.\r\n\r\n5. Cato: Though Chaucer may have referred to the famous\r\nCensor, more probably the reference is merely to the \u201cMoral\r\nDistichs,\u201d which go under his name, though written after his\r\ntime; and in a supplement to which the quoted passage may be\r\nfound.\r\n\r\n6. Barm-cloth: apron; from Anglo-Saxon \u201cbarme,\u201d bosom or\r\nlap.\r\n\r\n7. Volupere: Head-gear, kerchief; from French, \u201cenvelopper,\u201d\r\nto wrap up.\r\n\r\n8. Popelet:  Puppet; but chiefly; young wench.\r\n\r\n9. Noble: nobles were gold coins of especial purity and\r\nbrightness; \u201cEx auro nobilissimi, unde nobilis vocatus,\u201d (made\r\nfrom the noblest (purest) gold, and therefore called nobles) says\r\nVossius.\r\n\r\n10. Yern: Shrill, lively; German, \u201cgern,\u201d willingly, cheerfully.\r\n\r\n11. Braket:  bragget, a sweet drink made of honey, spices, &c.\r\nIn some parts of the country, a drink made from honeycomb,\r\nafter the honey is extracted, is still called \u201cbragwort.\u201d\r\n\r\n12. Piggesnie: a fond term, like \u201cmy duck;\u201d from Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cpiga,\u201d a young maid; but Tyrwhitt associates it with the Latin,\r\n\u201cocellus,\u201d little eye, a fondling term, and suggests that the \u201cpigs-\r\neye,\u201d which is very small, was  applied in the same sense.\r\nDavenport and Butler both use the word pigsnie, the first for\r\n\u201cdarling,\u201d the second literally for \u201ceye;\u201d and Bishop Gardner,\r\n\u201cOn True Obedience,\u201d in his address to the reader, says: \u201cHow\r\nsoftly she was wont to chirpe him under the chin, and kiss him;\r\nhow prettily she could talk to him (how doth my sweet heart,\r\nwhat saith now pig\u2019s-eye).\u201d\r\n\r\n13. Oseney: A once well-known abbey near Oxford.\r\n\r\n14. Trave: travis; a frame in which unruly  horses were shod.\r\n\r\n15. Harow and Alas:  Haro! was an old Norman cry for redress\r\nor aid. The \u201cClameur de Haro\u201d was lately raised, under peculiar\r\ncircumstances, as the prelude to a legal protest, in Jersey.\r\n\r\n16. His shoes were  ornamented like the windows of St. Paul\u2019s,\r\nespecially like the old rose-window.\r\n\r\n17. Rise: Twig, bush; German, \u201cReis,\u201d a twig; \u201cReisig,\u201d a copse.\r\n\r\n18. Chaucer satirises the dancing of Oxford as he did the French\r\nof Stratford at Bow.\r\n\r\n19. Shot window: A projecting or bow window, whence it was\r\npossible shoot at any one approaching the door.\r\n\r\n20. Piment: A drink made with wine, honey, and spices.\r\n\r\n21. Because she was town-bred, he offered wealth, or money\r\nreward, for her love.\r\n\r\n22. Parish-clerks, like Absolon, had leading parts in the\r\nmysteries or religious plays; Herod was one of these parts,\r\nwhich may have been an object of competition among the\r\namateurs of the period.\r\n\r\n23 .\u201dThe nighe sly maketh oft time the far lief to be loth\u201d: a\r\nproverb; the cunning one near at hand oft makes the loving one\r\nafar off to be odious.\r\n\r\n24. Kyked: Looked; \u201ckeek\u201d is still used in some parts in the\r\nsense of \u201cpeep.\u201d\r\n\r\n25. Saint Frideswide was the patroness of a considerable priory\r\nat Oxford, and held there in high repute.\r\n\r\n26. Plato, in his \u201cTheatetus,\u201d tells this story of Thales; but\r\nit has since appeared in many other forms.\r\n\r\n27. Crouche: protect by signing the sign of the cross.\r\n\r\n28. Forlore: lost; german, \u201cverloren.\u201d\r\n\r\n29. Him that harried Hell: Christ who wasted or subdued hell: in\r\nthe middle ages, some very active exploits against the prince of\r\ndarkness and his powers were ascribed by the monkish tale-\r\ntellers to the saviour after he had \u201cdescended into hell.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. According to the old mysteries, Noah\u2019s wife refused to\r\ncome into the ark, and bade her husband row forth and get him\r\na new wife, because he was leaving her gossips in the town to\r\ndrown. Shem and his brothers got her shipped by main force;\r\nand Noah, coming forward to welcome her, was greeted with a\r\nbox on the ear.\r\n\r\n31. \u201cHim had been lever, I dare well undertake,\r\nAt thilke time, than all his wethers black,\r\nThat she had had a ship herself alone.\u201d\r\ni.e.\r\n\u201cAt that time he would have given all his black wethers, if she\r\nhad had an ark to herself.\u201d\r\n\r\n32. \u201cClum,\u201d like \u201cmum,\u201d a note of silence; but otherwise\r\nexplained as the humming sound made in repeating prayers;\r\nfrom the Anglo-Saxon, \u201cclumian,\u201d to mutter, speak in an under-\r\ntone, keep silence.\r\n\r\n33. Curfew-time: Eight in the evening, when, by the law of\r\nWilliam the Conqueror, all people were, on ringing of a bell, to\r\nextinguish fire and candle, and go to rest; hence the word\r\ncurfew, from French, \u201ccouvre-feu,\u201d cover-fire.\r\n\r\n34. Absolon chewed grains: these were grains of Paris, or\r\nParadise; a favourite spice.\r\n\r\n35. Under his tongue a true love he bare:  some sweet herb;\r\nanother reading, however, is \u201ca true love-knot,\u201d which may\r\nhave been of the nature of a charm.\r\n\r\n36. The two lines within brackets are not in most of the\r\neditions: they are taken from Urry; whether he supplied them or\r\nnot, they serve the purpose of a necessary explanation.\r\n\r\n37. Gay girl: As applied to a young woman of light manners,\r\nthis euphemistic phrase has enjoyed a wonderful vitality.\r\n\r\n38. Viretote: Urry reads \u201cmeritote,\u201d and explains it from\r\nSpelman as a game in which children made themselves giddy by\r\nwhirling on ropes.  In French, \u201cvirer\u201d means to turn; and the\r\nexplanation may, therefore, suit either reading. In modern slang\r\nparlance, Gerveis would probably have said, \u201con the rampage,\u201d\r\nor \u201con the swing\u201d \u2014 not very far from Spelman\u2019s rendering.\r\n\r\n39. He had more tow on his distaff: a proverbial saying: he was\r\nplaying a deeper game, had more serious business on hand.\r\n\r\n40. Ere: before; German, \u201ceher.\u201d\r\n\r\n41. Sell:  sill of the door, threshold; French, \u201cseuil,\u201d Latin,\r\n\u201csolum,\u201d the ground.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE REEVE\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nWHEN folk had laughed all at this nice case\r\nOf Absolon and Hendy Nicholas,\r\nDiverse folk diversely they said,\r\nBut for the more part they laugh\u2019d and play\u2019d;*           *were diverted\r\nAnd at this tale I saw no man him grieve,\r\nBut it were only Osewold the Reeve.\r\nBecause he was of carpenteres craft,\r\nA little ire is in his hearte laft*;                               *left\r\nHe gan to grudge* and blamed it a lite.**              *murmur **little.\r\n\u201cSo the* I,\u201d  quoth he, \u201cfull well could I him quite**   *thrive **match\r\nWith blearing* of a proude miller\u2019s eye,                    *dimming <1>\r\nIf that me list to speak of ribaldry.\r\nBut I am old; me list not play for age; <2>\r\nGrass time is done, my fodder is now forage.\r\nThis white top* writeth mine olde years;                           *head\r\nMine heart is also moulded* as mine hairs;                 *grown mouldy\r\nAnd I do fare as doth an open-erse*;                         *medlar <3>\r\nThat ilke* fruit is ever longer werse,                             *same\r\nTill it be rotten *in mullok or in stre*.    *on the ground or in straw*\r\nWe olde men, I dread, so fare we;\r\nTill we be rotten, can we not be ripe;\r\nWe hop* away, while that the world will pipe;                     *dance\r\nFor in our will there sticketh aye a nail,\r\nTo have an hoary head and a green tail,\r\nAs hath a leek; for though our might be gone,\r\nOur will desireth folly ever-in-one*:                       *continually\r\nFor when we may not do, then will we speak,\r\nYet in our ashes cold does fire reek.*                         *smoke<4>\r\nFour gledes* have we, which I shall devise**,         *coals ** describe\r\nVaunting, and lying, anger, covetise*.                     *covetousness\r\nThese foure sparks belongen unto eld.\r\nOur olde limbes well may be unweld*,                           *unwieldy\r\nBut will shall never fail us, that is sooth.\r\nAnd yet have I alway a coltes tooth,<5>\r\nAs many a year as it is passed and gone\r\nSince that my tap of life began to run;\r\nFor sickerly*, when I was born, anon                          *certainly\r\nDeath drew the tap of life, and let it gon:\r\nAnd ever since hath so the tap y-run,\r\nTill that almost all empty is the tun.\r\nThe stream of life now droppeth on the chimb.<6>\r\nThe silly tongue well may ring and chime\r\nOf wretchedness, that passed is full yore*:                        *long\r\nWith olde folk, save dotage, is no more. <7>\r\n\r\nWhen that our Host had heard this sermoning,\r\nHe gan to speak as lordly as a king,\r\nAnd said; \u201cTo what amounteth all this wit?\r\nWhat? shall we speak all day of holy writ?\r\nThe devil made a Reeve for to preach,\r\nAs of a souter* a shipman, or a leach**.                    *cobbler <8>\r\nSay forth thy tale, and tarry not the time:                **surgeon <9>\r\nLo here is Deptford, and \u2019tis half past prime:<10>\r\nLo Greenwich, where many a shrew is in.\r\nIt were high time thy tale to begin.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNow, sirs,\u201d quoth then this Osewold the Reeve,\r\nI pray you all that none of you do grieve,\r\nThough I answer, and somewhat set his hove*,                  *hood <11>\r\nFor lawful is *force off with force to shove.*           *to repel force\r\nThis drunken miller hath y-told us here                        by force*\r\nHow that beguiled was a carpentere,\r\nParaventure* in scorn, for I am one:                            *perhaps\r\nAnd, by your leave, I shall him quite anon.\r\nRight in his churlish termes will I speak,\r\nI pray to God his necke might to-break.\r\nHe can well in mine eye see a stalk,\r\nBut in his own he cannot see a balk.\u201d<12>\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Reeves Tale.\r\n\r\n\r\n 1. \u201cWith blearing of a proude miller\u2019s eye\u201d: dimming his eye;\r\nplaying off a joke on him.\r\n\r\n2. \u201cMe list not play for age\u201d: age takes away my zest for\r\ndrollery.\r\n\r\n3. The medlar, the fruit of the mespilus tree, is only edible when\r\nrotten.\r\n\r\n4. Yet in our ashes cold does fire reek: \u201cev\u2019n in our ashes live\r\ntheir wonted fires.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. A colt\u2019s tooth; a wanton humour, a relish for pleasure.\r\n\r\n6. Chimb: The rim of a barrel where the staves project beyond\r\nthe head.\r\n\r\n7. With olde folk, save dotage, is no more: Dotage is all that is\r\nleft them; that is, they can only dwell fondly, dote, on the past.\r\n\r\n8. Souter: cobbler; Scottice, \u201csutor;\u201d\u2019 from Latin, \u201csuere,\u201d to\r\nsew.\r\n\r\n9. \u201cEx sutore medicus\u201d  (a surgeon from a cobbler) and \u201cex\r\nsutore nauclerus\u201d (a  seaman or pilot from a cobbler) were both\r\nproverbial expressions in the Middle Ages.\r\n\r\n10. Half past prime: half-way between prime and tierce; about\r\nhalf-past seven in the morning.\r\n\r\n11. Set his hove; like \u201cset their caps;\u201d as in the description of\r\nthe Manciple in the Prologue, who \u201cset their aller cap\u201d.  \u201cHove\u201d\r\nor \u201choufe,\u201d means \u201chood;\u201d and the phrase signifies to be even\r\nwith, outwit.\r\n\r\n12. The illustration of the mote and the beam, from Matthew.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.<1>\r\n\r\nAt Trompington, not far from Cantebrig,*                      *Cambridge\r\nThere goes a brook, and over that a brig,\r\nUpon the whiche brook there stands a mill:\r\nAnd this is *very sooth* that I you tell.               *complete truth*\r\nA miller was there dwelling many a day,\r\nAs any peacock he was proud and gay:\r\nPipen he could, and fish, and nettes bete*,                     *prepare\r\nAnd turne cups, and wrestle well, and shete*.                     *shoot\r\nAye by his belt he bare a long pavade*,                         *poniard\r\nAnd of his sword full trenchant was the blade.\r\nA jolly popper* bare he in his pouch;                            *dagger\r\nThere was no man for peril durst him touch.\r\nA Sheffield whittle* bare he in his hose.                   *small knife\r\nRound was his face, and camuse* was his nose.                  *flat <2>\r\nAs pilled* as an ape\u2019s was his skull.                     *peeled, bald.\r\nHe was a market-beter* at the full.                             *brawler\r\nThere durste no wight hand upon him legge*,                         *lay\r\nThat he ne swore anon he should abegge*.             *suffer the penalty\r\n\r\nA thief he was, for sooth, of corn and meal,\r\nAnd that a sly, and used well to steal.\r\nHis name was *hoten deinous Simekin*        *called \u201cDisdainful Simkin\u201d*\r\nA wife he hadde, come of noble kin:\r\nThe parson of the town her father was.\r\nWith her he gave full many a pan of brass,\r\nFor that Simkin should in his blood ally.\r\nShe was y-foster\u2019d in a nunnery:\r\nFor Simkin woulde no wife, as he said,\r\nBut she were well y-nourish\u2019d, and a maid,\r\nTo saven his estate and yeomanry:\r\nAnd she was proud, and pert as is a pie*.                        *magpie\r\nA full fair sight it was to see them two;\r\nOn holy days before her would he go\r\nWith his tippet* y-bound about his head;                           *hood\r\nAnd she came after in a gite* of red,                          *gown <3>\r\nAnd Simkin hadde hosen of the same.\r\nThere durste no wight call her aught but Dame:\r\nNone was so hardy, walking by that way,\r\nThat with her either durste *rage or play*,                *use freedom*\r\n*But if* he would be slain by Simekin                            *unless\r\nWith pavade, or with knife, or bodekin.\r\nFor jealous folk be per\u2019lous evermo\u2019:\r\nAlgate* they would their wives *wende so*.           *unless *so behave*\r\nAnd eke for she was somewhat smutterlich*,                        *dirty\r\nShe was as dign* as water in a ditch,                             *nasty\r\nAnd all so full of hoker*, and bismare**.   *ill-nature **abusive speech\r\nHer thoughte that a lady should her spare*,        *not judge her hardly\r\nWhat for her kindred, and her nortelrie*           *nurturing, education\r\nThat she had learned in the nunnery.\r\n\r\nOne daughter hadde they betwixt them two\r\nOf twenty year, withouten any mo,\r\nSaving a child that was of half year age,\r\nIn cradle it lay, and was a proper page.*                           *boy\r\nThis wenche thick and well y-growen was,\r\nWith camuse* nose, and eyen gray as glass;                         *flat\r\nWith buttocks broad, and breastes round and high;\r\nBut right fair was her hair, I will not lie.\r\nThe parson of the town, for she was fair,\r\nIn purpose was to make of her his heir\r\nBoth of his chattels and his messuage,\r\nAnd *strange he made it* of her marriage.           *he made it a matter\r\nHis purpose was for to bestow her high                    of difficulty*\r\nInto some worthy blood of ancestry.\r\nFor holy Church\u2019s good may be dispended*                          *spent\r\nOn holy Church\u2019s blood that is descended.\r\nTherefore he would his holy blood honour\r\nThough that he holy Churche should devour.\r\n\r\nGreat soken* hath this miller, out of doubt,    *toll taken for grinding\r\nWith wheat and malt, of all the land about;\r\nAnd namely* there was a great college                        *especially\r\nMen call the Soler Hall at Cantebrege,<4>\r\nThere was their wheat and eke their malt y-ground.\r\nAnd on a day it happed in a stound*,                           *suddenly\r\nSick lay the manciple* of a malady,                         *steward <5>\r\nMen *weened wisly* that he shoulde die.              *thought certainly*\r\nFor which this miller stole both meal and corn\r\nAn hundred times more than beforn.\r\nFor theretofore he stole but courteously,\r\nBut now he was a thief outrageously.\r\nFor which the warden chid and made fare*,                          *fuss\r\nBut thereof *set the miller not a tare*;           *he cared not a rush*\r\nHe *crack\u2019d his boast,* and swore it was not so.            *talked big*\r\n\r\nThen were there younge poore scholars two,\r\nThat dwelled in the hall of which I say;\r\nTestif* they were, and lusty for to play;                *headstrong <6>\r\nAnd only for their mirth and revelry\r\nUpon the warden busily they cry,\r\nTo give them leave for but a *little stound*,               *short time*\r\nTo go to mill, and see their corn y-ground:\r\nAnd hardily* they durste lay their neck,                         *boldly\r\nThe miller should not steal them half a peck\r\nOf corn by sleight, nor them by force bereave*                *take away\r\nAnd at the last the warden give them leave:\r\nJohn hight the one, and Alein hight the other,\r\nOf one town were they born, that highte Strother,<7>\r\nFar in the North, I cannot tell you where.\r\nThis Alein he made ready all his gear,\r\nAnd on a horse the sack he cast anon:\r\nForth went Alein the clerk, and also John,\r\nWith good sword and with buckler by their side.\r\nJohn knew the way, him needed not no guide,\r\nAnd at the mill the sack adown he lay\u2019th.\r\n\r\nAlein spake first; \u201cAll hail, Simon, in faith,\r\nHow fares thy faire daughter, and thy wife.\u201d\r\n\u201cAlein, welcome,\u201d quoth Simkin, \u201cby my life,\r\nAnd John also: how now, what do ye here?\u201d\r\n\u201cBy God, Simon,\u201d quoth John, \u201cneed has no peer*.                  *equal\r\nHim serve himself behoves that has no swain*,                   *servant\r\nOr else he is a fool, as clerkes sayn.\r\nOur manciple I hope* he will be dead,                            *expect\r\nSo workes aye the wanges* in his head:                  *cheek-teeth <8>\r\nAnd therefore is I come, and eke Alein,\r\nTo grind our corn and carry it home again:\r\nI pray you speed us hence as well ye may.\u201d\r\n\u201cIt shall be done,\u201d quoth Simkin, \u201cby my fay.\r\nWhat will ye do while that it is in hand?\u201d\r\n\u201cBy God, right by the hopper will I stand,\u201d\r\nQuoth John, \u201cand see how that the corn goes in.\r\nYet saw I never, by my father\u2019s kin,\r\nHow that the hopper wagges to and fro.\u201d\r\nAlein answered, \u201cJohn, and wilt thou so?\r\nThen will I be beneathe, by my crown,\r\nAnd see how that the meale falls adown\r\nInto the trough, that shall be my disport*:                   *amusement\r\nFor, John, in faith I may be of your sort;\r\nI is as ill a miller as is ye.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis miller smiled at their nicety*,                         *simplicity\r\nAnd thought, \u201cAll this is done but for a wile.\r\nThey weenen* that no man may them beguile,                        *think\r\nBut by my thrift yet shall I blear their eye,<9>\r\nFor all the sleight in their philosophy.\r\nThe more *quainte knackes* that they make,           *odd little tricks*\r\nThe more will I steal when that I take.\r\nInstead of flour yet will I give them bren*.                       *bran\r\nThe greatest clerks are not the wisest men,\r\nAs whilom to the wolf thus spake the mare: <10>\r\nOf all their art ne count I not a tare.\u201d\r\nOut at the door he went full privily,\r\nWhen that he saw his time, softely.\r\nHe looked up and down, until he found\r\nThe clerkes\u2019 horse, there as he stood y-bound\r\nBehind the mill, under a levesell:*                          *arbour<11>\r\nAnd to the horse he went him fair and well,\r\nAnd stripped off the bridle right anon.\r\nAnd when the horse was loose, he gan to gon\r\nToward the fen, where wilde mares run,\r\nForth, with \u201cWehee!\u201d through thick and eke through thin.\r\nThis miller went again, no word he said,\r\nBut did his note*, and with these clerkes play\u2019d,         *business <12>\r\nTill that their corn was fair and well y-ground.\r\nAnd when the meal was sacked and y-bound,\r\nThen John went out, and found his horse away,\r\nAnd gan to cry, \u201cHarow, and well-away!\r\nOur horse is lost: Alein, for Godde\u2019s bones,\r\nStep on thy feet; come off, man, all at once:\r\nAlas! our warden has his palfrey lorn.*\u201d                           *lost\r\nThis Alein all forgot, both meal and corn;\r\nAll was out of his mind his husbandry*.              *careful watch over\r\n\u201cWhat, which way is he gone?\u201d he gan to cry.                   the corn*\r\nThe wife came leaping inward at a renne*,                           *run\r\nShe said; \u201cAlas! your horse went to the fen\r\nWith wilde mares, as fast as he could go.\r\nUnthank* come on his hand that bound him so           *ill luck, a curse\r\nAnd his that better should have knit the rein.\u201d\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth John, \u201cAlein, for Christes pain\r\nLay down thy sword, and I shall mine also.\r\nI is full wight*, God wate**, as is a roe.                *swift **knows\r\nBy Godde\u2019s soul he shall not scape us bathe*.                 *both <13>\r\nWhy n\u2019 had thou put the capel* in the lathe**?         *horse<14> **barn\r\nIll hail, Alein, by God thou is a fonne.*\u201d                         *fool\r\nThese silly clerkes have full fast y-run\r\nToward the fen, both Alein and eke John;\r\nAnd when the miller saw that they were gone,\r\nHe half a bushel of their flour did take,\r\nAnd bade his wife go knead it in a cake.\r\nHe said; I trow, the clerkes were afeard,\r\nYet can a miller *make a clerkes beard,*          *cheat a scholar* <15>\r\nFor all his art: yea, let them go their way!\r\nLo where they go! yea, let the children play:\r\nThey get him not so lightly, by my crown.\u201d\r\nThese silly clerkes runnen up and down\r\nWith \u201cKeep, keep; stand, stand; jossa*, warderere.                 *turn\r\nGo whistle thou, and I shall keep* him here.\u201d                     *catch\r\nBut shortly, till that it was very night\r\nThey coulde not, though they did all their might,\r\nTheir capel catch, he ran alway so fast:\r\nTill in a ditch they caught him at the last.\r\n\r\nWeary and wet, as beastes in the rain,\r\nComes silly John, and with him comes Alein.\r\n\u201cAlas,\u201d quoth John, \u201cthe day that I was born!\r\nNow are we driv\u2019n till hething* and till scorn.                 *mockery\r\nOur corn is stol\u2019n, men will us fonnes* call,                     *fools\r\nBoth the warden, and eke our fellows all,\r\nAnd namely* the miller, well-away!\u201d                          *especially\r\nThus plained John, as he went by the way\r\nToward the mill, and Bayard* in his hand.                 *the bay horse\r\nThe miller sitting by the fire he fand*.                          *found\r\nFor it was night, and forther* might they not,             *go their way\r\nBut for the love of God they him besought\r\nOf herberow* and ease, for their penny.                         *lodging\r\nThe miller said again,\u201d If there be any,\r\nSuch as it is, yet shall ye have your part.\r\nMine house is strait, but ye have learned art;\r\nYe can by arguments maken a place\r\nA mile broad, of twenty foot of space.\r\nLet see now if this place may suffice,\r\nOr make it room with speech, as is your guise.*\u201d                *fashion\r\n\u201cNow, Simon,\u201d said this John, \u201cby Saint Cuthberd\r\nAye is thou merry, and that is fair answer\u2019d.\r\nI have heard say, man shall take of two things,\r\nSuch as he findes, or such as he brings.\r\nBut specially I pray thee, hoste dear,\r\nGar <16> us have meat and drink, and make us cheer,\r\nAnd we shall pay thee truly at the full:\r\nWith empty hand men may not hawkes tull*.                        *allure\r\nLo here our silver ready for to spend.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis miller to the town his daughter send\r\nFor ale and bread, and roasted them a goose,\r\nAnd bound their horse, he should no more go loose:\r\nAnd them in his own chamber made a bed.\r\nWith sheetes and with chalons* fair y-spread,              *blankets<17>\r\nNot from his owen bed ten foot or twelve:\r\nHis daughter had a bed all by herselve,\r\nRight in the same chamber *by and by*:                    *side by side*\r\nIt might no better be, and cause why,\r\nThere was no *roomer herberow* in the place.           *roomier lodging*\r\nThey suppen, and they speaken of solace,\r\nAnd drinken ever strong ale at the best.\r\nAboute midnight went they all to rest.\r\nWell had this miller varnished his head;\r\nFull pale he was, fordrunken, and *nought red*.       *without his wits*\r\nHe yoxed*, and he spake thorough the nose,                     *hiccuped\r\nAs he were in the quakke*, or in the pose**.         *grunting **catarrh\r\nTo bed he went, and with him went his wife,\r\nAs any jay she light was and jolife,*                             *jolly\r\nSo was her jolly whistle well y-wet.\r\nThe cradle at her beddes feet was set,\r\nTo rock, and eke to give the child to suck.\r\nAnd when that drunken was all in the crock*                 *pitcher<18>\r\nTo bedde went the daughter right anon,\r\nTo bedde went Alein, and also John.\r\nThere was no more; needed them no dwale.<19>\r\nThis miller had, so wisly* bibbed ale,                        *certainly\r\nThat as a horse he snorted in his sleep,\r\nNor of his tail behind he took no keep*.                           *heed\r\nHis wife bare him a burdoun*, a full strong;                  *bass <20>\r\nMen might their routing* hearen a furlong.                      *snoring\r\n\r\nThe wenche routed eke for company.\r\nAlein the clerk, that heard this melody,\r\nHe poked John, and saide: \u201cSleepest thou?\r\nHeardest thou ever such a song ere now?\r\nLo what a compline<21> is y-mell* them all.                       *among\r\nA wilde fire upon their bodies fall,\r\nWho hearken\u2019d ever such a ferly* thing?                    *strange <22>\r\nYea, they shall have the flow\u2019r of ill ending!\r\nThis longe night there *tides me* no rest.                 *comes to me*\r\nBut yet no force*, all shall be for the best.                    *matter\r\nFor, John,\u201d said he, \u201cas ever may I thrive,\r\nIf that I may, yon wenche will I swive*.                 *enjoy carnally\r\nSome easement* has law y-shapen** us            *satisfaction **provided\r\nFor, John, there is a law that sayeth thus,\r\nThat if a man in one point be aggriev\u2019d,\r\nThat in another he shall be relievd.\r\nOur corn is stol\u2019n, soothly it is no nay,\r\nAnd we have had an evil fit to-day.\r\nAnd since I shall have none amendement\r\nAgainst my loss, I will have easement:\r\nBy Godde\u2019s soul, it shall none, other be.\u201d\r\nThis John answer\u2019d;  Alein, *avise thee*:                  *have a care*\r\nThe miller is a perilous man,\u201d he said,\r\n\u201cAnd if that he out of his sleep abraid*,                        *awaked\r\nHe mighte do us both a villainy*.\u201d                             *mischief\r\nAlein answer\u2019d; \u201cI count him not a fly.\r\nAnd up he rose, and by the wench he crept.\r\nThis wenche lay upright, and fast she slept,\r\nTill he so nigh was, ere she might espy,\r\nThat it had been too late for to cry:\r\nAnd, shortly for to say, they were at one.\r\nNow play, Alein, for I will speak of John.\r\n\r\nThis John lay still a furlong way <23> or two,\r\nAnd to himself he made ruth* and woe.                              *wail\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201cthis is a wicked jape*;                        *trick\r\nNow may I say, that I is but an ape.\r\nYet has my fellow somewhat for his harm;\r\nHe has the miller\u2019s daughter in his arm:\r\nHe auntred* him, and hath his needes sped,                   *adventured\r\nAnd I lie as a draff-sack in my bed;\r\nAnd when this jape is told another day,\r\nI shall be held a daffe* or a cockenay <24>                      *coward\r\nI will arise, and auntre* it, by my fay:                        *attempt\r\nUnhardy is unsely, <25> as men say.\u201d\r\nAnd up he rose, and softely he went\r\nUnto the cradle, and in his hand it hent*,                         *took\r\nAnd bare it soft unto his beddes feet.\r\nSoon after this the wife *her routing lete*,           *stopped snoring*\r\nAnd gan awake, and went her out to piss\r\nAnd came again and gan the cradle miss\r\nAnd groped here and there, but she found none.\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201cI had almost misgone\r\nI had almost gone to the clerkes\u2019 bed.\r\nEy! Benedicite, then had I foul y-sped.\u201d\r\nAnd forth she went, till she the cradle fand.\r\nShe groped alway farther with her hand\r\nAnd found the bed, and *thoughte not but good*        *had no suspicion*\r\nBecause that the cradle by it stood,\r\nAnd wist not where she was, for it was derk;\r\nBut fair and well she crept in by the clerk,\r\nAnd lay full still, and would have caught a sleep.\r\nWithin a while this John the Clerk up leap\r\nAnd on this goode wife laid on full sore;\r\nSo merry a fit had she not had *full yore*.            *for a long time*\r\nHe pricked hard and deep, as he were mad.\r\n\r\nThis jolly life have these two clerkes had,\r\nTill that the thirde cock began to sing.\r\nAlein wax\u2019d weary in the morrowing,\r\nFor he had swonken* all the longe night,                       *laboured\r\nAnd saide; \u201cFarewell, Malkin, my sweet wight.\r\nThe day is come, I may no longer bide,\r\nBut evermore, where so I go or ride,\r\nI is thine owen clerk, so have I hele.*\u201d                         *health\r\n\u201cNow, deare leman*,\u201d quoth she, \u201cgo, fare wele:              *sweetheart\r\nBut ere thou go, one thing I will thee tell.\r\nWhen that thou wendest homeward by the mill,\r\nRight at the entry of the door behind\r\nThou shalt a cake of half a bushel find,\r\nThat was y-maked of thine owen meal,\r\nWhich that I help\u2019d my father for to steal.\r\nAnd goode leman, God thee save and keep.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word she gan almost to weep.\r\nAlein uprose and thought, \u201cEre the day daw\r\nI will go creepen in by my fellaw:\u201d\r\nAnd found the cradle with his hand anon.\r\n\u201cBy God!\u201d thought he, \u201call wrong I have misgone:\r\nMy head is *totty of my swink* to-night,          *giddy from my labour*\r\nThat maketh me that I go not aright.\r\nI wot well by the cradle I have misgo\u2019;\r\nHere lie the miller and his wife also.\u201d\r\nAnd forth he went a twenty devil way\r\nUnto the bed, there as the miller lay.\r\nHe ween\u2019d* t\u2019 have creeped by his fellow John,                  *thought\r\nAnd by the miller in he crept anon,\r\nAnd caught him by the neck, and gan him shake,\r\nAnd said; \u201cThou John, thou swines-head, awake\r\nFor Christes soul, and hear a noble game!\r\nFor by that lord that called is Saint Jame,\r\nAs I have thries in this shorte night\r\nSwived the miller\u2019s daughter bolt-upright,\r\nWhile thou hast as a coward lain aghast*.\u201d                       *afraid\r\n\u201cThou false harlot,\u201d quoth the miller, \u201chast?\r\nAh, false traitor, false clerk,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cThou shalt be dead, by Godde\u2019s dignity,\r\nWho durste be so bold to disparage*                            *disgrace\r\nMy daughter, that is come of such lineage?\u201d\r\nAnd by the throate-ball* he caught Alein,                  *Adam\u2019s apple\r\nAnd he him hent* dispiteously** again,                 *seized **angrily\r\nAnd on the nose he smote him with his fist;\r\nDown ran the bloody stream upon his breast:\r\nAnd in the floor with nose and mouth all broke\r\nThey wallow, as do two pigs in a poke.\r\nAnd up they go, and down again anon,\r\nTill that the miller spurned* on a stone,                      *stumbled\r\nAnd down he backward fell upon his wife,\r\nThat wiste nothing of this nice strife:\r\nFor she was fall\u2019n asleep a little wight*                         *while\r\nWith John the clerk, that waked had all night:\r\nAnd with the fall out of her sleep she braid*.                     *woke\r\n\u201cHelp, holy cross of Bromeholm,\u201d <26> she said;\r\n\u201cIn manus tuas! <27> Lord, to thee I call.\r\nAwake, Simon, the fiend is on me fall;\r\nMine heart is broken; help; I am but dead:\r\nThere li\u2019th one on my womb and on mine head.\r\nHelp, Simkin, for these false clerks do fight\u201d\r\nThis John start up as fast as e\u2019er he might,\r\nAnd groped by the walles to and fro\r\nTo find a staff; and she start up also,\r\nAnd knew the estres* better than this John,                   *apartment\r\nAnd by the wall she took a staff anon:\r\nAnd saw a little shimmering of a light,\r\nFor at an hole in shone the moone bright,\r\nAnd by that light she saw them both the two,\r\nBut sickerly* she wist not who was who,                       *certainly\r\nBut as she saw a white thing in her eye.\r\nAnd when she gan this white thing espy,\r\nShe ween\u2019d* the clerk had wear\u2019d a volupere**;     *supposed **night-cap\r\nAnd with the staff she drew aye nere* and nere*,                 *nearer\r\nAnd ween\u2019d to have hit this Alein at the full,\r\nAnd smote the miller on the pilled* skull;                         *bald\r\nThat down he went, and cried,\u201d Harow! I die.\u201d\r\nThese clerkes beat him well, and let him lie,\r\nAnd greithen* them, and take their horse anon,        *make ready, dress\r\nAnd eke their meal, and on their way they gon:\r\nAnd at the mill door eke they took their cake\r\nOf half a bushel flour, full well y-bake.\r\n\r\nThus is the proude miller well y-beat,\r\nAnd hath y-lost the grinding of the wheat;\r\nAnd payed for the supper *every deal*                         *every bit\r\nOf Alein and of John, that beat him well;\r\nHis wife is swived, and his daughter als*;                         *also\r\nLo, such it is a miller to be false.\r\nAnd therefore this proverb is said full sooth,\r\n\u201c*Him thar not winnen well* that evil do\u2019th,   *he deserves not to gain*\r\nA guiler shall himself beguiled be:\u201d\r\nAnd God that sitteth high in majesty\r\nSave all this Company, both great and smale.\r\nThus have I quit* the Miller in my tale.         *made myself quits with\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Reeve\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The incidents of this tale were much relished in the Middle\r\nAges, and are found under various forms.  Boccaccio has told\r\nthem in the ninth day of his \u201cDecameron\u201d.\r\n\r\n2. Camuse: flat; French \u201ccamuse\u201d, snub-nosed.\r\n\r\n3. Gite: gown or coat; French \u201cjupe.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. Soler Hall: the hall or college at Cambridge with the gallery\r\nor upper storey; supposed to have been Clare Hall.\r\n(Transcribers note: later commentators identify it with King\u2019s\r\nHall, now merged with Trinity College)\r\n\r\n5. Manciple:  steward; provisioner of the hall. See also note 47\r\nto the prologue to the Tales.\r\n\r\n6. Testif: headstrong, wild-brained; French, \u201centete.\u201d\r\n\r\n7. Strother:  Tyrwhitt points to Anstruther, in Fife: Mr Wright\r\nto the Vale of Langstroth, in the West Riding of Yorkshire.\r\nChaucer has given the scholars a dialect that may have belonged\r\nto either district, although it more immediately suggests the\r\nmore northern of the two.\r\n(Transcribers note: later commentators have identified it with a\r\nnow vanished village near Kirknewton in Northumberland.\r\nThere was a well-known Alein of Strother in Chaucer\u2019s\r\nlifetime.)\r\n\r\n8. Wanges: grinders, cheek-teeth; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cWang,\u201d the\r\ncheek; German, \u201cWange.\u201d\r\n\r\n9. See note 1 to the Prologue to the Reeves Tale\r\n\r\n10. In the \u201cCento Novelle Antiche,\u201d the story is told of a mule,\r\nwhich pretends that his name is written on the bottom of his\r\nhind foot. The wolf attempts to read it, the mule kills him with a\r\nkick in the forehead; and the fox, looking on, remarks that\r\n\u201cevery man of letters is not wise.\u201d A similar story is told in\r\n\u201cReynard the Fox.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Levesell: an arbour; Anglo-Saxon, \u201clefe-setl,\u201d leafy seat.\r\n\r\n12. Noth:  business; German, \u201cNoth,\u201d necessity.\r\n\r\n13. Bathe: both; Scottice, \u201cbaith.\u201d\r\n\r\n14. Capel:  horse; Gaelic, \u201ccapall;\u201d French, \u201ccheval;\u201d Italian,\r\n\u201ccavallo,\u201d from Latin, \u201ccaballus.\u201d\r\n\r\n15. Make a clerkes beard: cheat a scholar; French, \u201cfaire la\r\nbarbe;\u201d and Boccaccio uses the proverb in the same sense.\r\n\r\n16. \u201cGar\u201d is Scotch for \u201ccause;\u201d some editions read, however,\r\n\u201cget us some\u201d.\r\n\r\n17. Chalons:  blankets, coverlets, made at Chalons in France.\r\n\r\n18. Crock: pitcher, cruse; Anglo-Saxon, \u201ccrocca;\u201d German,\r\n\u201ckrug;\u201d hence \u201ccrockery.\u201d\r\n\r\n19. Dwale: night-shade, Solanum somniferum, given to cause\r\nsleep.\r\n\r\n20. Burdoun: bass; \u201cburden\u201d of a song. It originally means the\r\ndrone of a bagpipe; French, \u201cbourdon.\u201d\r\n\r\n21. Compline: even-song in the church service; chorus.\r\n\r\n22. Ferly: strange. In Scotland, a \u201cferlie\u201d is an unwonted or\r\nremarkable sight.\r\n\r\n23. A furlong way: As long as it might take to walk a furlong.\r\n\r\n24. Cockenay: a term of contempt, probably borrowed from the\r\nkitchen; a cook, in base Latin, being termed \u201ccoquinarius.\u201d\r\ncompare French \u201ccoquin,\u201d rascal.\r\n\r\n25. Unhardy is unsely: the cowardly is unlucky; \u201cnothing\r\nventure, nothing have;\u201d German, \u201cunselig,\u201d unhappy.\r\n\r\n26. Holy cross of Bromeholm: A common adjuration at that\r\ntime; the cross or rood of the priory of Bromholm, in Norfolk,\r\nwas said to contain part of the real cross and therefore held in\r\nhigh esteem.\r\n\r\n27. In manus tuas: Latin, \u201cin your hands\u201d.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE COOK\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nTHE Cook of London, while the Reeve thus spake,\r\nFor joy he laugh\u2019d and clapp\u2019d him on the back:\r\n\u201cAha!\u201d quoth he, \u201cfor Christes passion,\r\nThis Miller had a sharp conclusion,\r\nUpon this argument of herbergage.*                              *lodging\r\nWell saide Solomon in his language,\r\nBring thou not every man into thine house,\r\nFor harbouring by night is perilous.\r\n*Well ought a man avised for to be*        *a man should take good heed*\r\nWhom that he brought into his privity.\r\nI pray to God to give me sorrow and care\r\nIf ever, since I highte* Hodge of Ware,                      *was called\r\nHeard I a miller better *set a-work*;                           *handled\r\nHe had a jape* of malice in the derk.                             *trick\r\nBut God forbid that we should stinte* here,                        *stop\r\nAnd therefore if ye will vouchsafe to hear\r\nA tale of me, that am a poore man,\r\nI will you tell as well as e\u2019er I can\r\nA little jape that fell in our city.\u201d\r\n\r\nOur Host answer\u2019d and said; \u201cI grant it thee.\r\nRoger, tell on; and look that it be good,\r\nFor many a pasty hast thou letten blood,\r\nAnd many a Jack of Dover<1> hast thou sold,\r\nThat had been twice hot and twice cold.\r\nOf many a pilgrim hast thou Christe\u2019s curse,\r\nFor of thy parsley yet fare they the worse.\r\nThat they have eaten in thy stubble goose:\r\nFor in thy shop doth many a fly go loose.\r\nNow tell on, gentle Roger, by thy name,\r\nBut yet I pray thee be not *wroth for game*;     *angry with my jesting*\r\nA man may say full sooth in game and play.\u201d\r\n\u201cThou sayst full sooth,\u201d quoth Roger, \u201cby my fay;\r\nBut sooth play quad play,<2> as the Fleming saith,\r\nAnd therefore, Harry Bailly, by thy faith,\r\nBe thou not wroth, else we departe* here,                  *part company\r\nThough that my tale be of an hostelere.*                      *innkeeper\r\nBut natheless, I will not tell it yet,\r\nBut ere we part, y-wis* thou shalt be quit.\u201d<3>               *assuredly\r\nAnd therewithal he laugh\u2019d and made cheer,<4>\r\nAnd told his tale, as ye shall after hear.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Cook\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Jack of Dover:  an article of cookery. (Transcriber\u2019s note:\r\nsuggested by some commentators to be a kind of pie, and by\r\nothers to be a fish)\r\n\r\n2. Sooth play quad play: true jest is no jest.\r\n\r\n3. It may be remembered that each pilgrim was bound to tell\r\ntwo stories; one on the way to Canterbury, the other returning.\r\n\r\n4. Made cheer: French, \u201cfit bonne mine;\u201d put on a pleasant\r\ncountenance.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.\r\n\r\nA prentice whilom dwelt in our city,\r\nAnd of a craft of victuallers was he:\r\nGalliard* he was, as goldfinch in the shaw**,            *lively **grove\r\nBrown as a berry, a proper short fellaw:\r\nWith lockes black, combed full fetisly.*                       *daintily\r\nAnd dance he could so well and jollily,\r\nThat he was called Perkin Revellour.\r\nHe was as full of love and paramour,\r\nAs is the honeycomb of honey sweet;\r\nWell was the wenche that with him might meet.\r\nAt every bridal would he sing and hop;\r\nHe better lov\u2019d the tavern than the shop.\r\nFor when there any riding was in Cheap,<1>\r\nOut of the shoppe thither would he leap,\r\nAnd, till that he had all the sight y-seen,\r\nAnd danced well, he would not come again;\r\nAnd gather\u2019d him a meinie* of his sort,              *company of fellows\r\nTo hop and sing, and make such disport:\r\nAnd there they *sette steven* for to meet             *made appointment*\r\nTo playen at the dice in such a street.\r\nFor in the towne was there no prentice\r\nThat fairer coulde cast a pair of dice\r\nThan Perkin could; and thereto *he was free    *he spent money liberally\r\nOf his dispence, in place of privity.*       where he would not be seen*\r\nThat found his master well in his chaffare,*                *merchandise\r\nFor oftentime he found his box full bare.\r\nFor, soothely, a prentice revellour,\r\nThat haunteth dice, riot, and paramour,\r\nHis master shall it in his shop abie*,                       *suffer for\r\nAll* have he no part of the minstrelsy.                        *although\r\nFor theft and riot they be convertible,\r\nAll can they play on *gitern or ribible.*             *guitar or rebeck*\r\nRevel and truth, as in a low degree,\r\nThey be full wroth* all day, as men may see.                *at variance\r\n\r\nThis jolly prentice with his master bode,\r\nTill he was nigh out of his prenticehood,\r\nAll were he snubbed* both early and late,                       *rebuked\r\nAnd sometimes led with revel to Newgate.\r\nBut at the last his master him bethought,\r\nUpon a day when he his paper<2> sought,\r\nOf a proverb, that saith this same word;\r\nBetter is rotten apple out of hoard,\r\nThan that it should rot all the remenant:\r\nSo fares it by a riotous servant;\r\nIt is well lesse harm to let him pace*,                        *pass, go\r\nThan he shend* all the servants in the place.                   *corrupt\r\nTherefore his master gave him a quittance,\r\nAnd bade him go, with sorrow and mischance.\r\nAnd thus this jolly prentice had his leve*:                      *desire\r\nNow let him riot all the night, or leave*.                      *refrain\r\nAnd, for there is no thief without a louke,<3>\r\nThat helpeth him to wasten and to souk*                           *spend\r\nOf that he bribe* can, or borrow may,                             *steal\r\nAnon he sent his bed and his array\r\nUnto a compere* of his owen sort,                               *comrade\r\nThat loved dice, and riot, and disport;\r\nAnd had a wife, that held *for countenance*            *for appearances*\r\nA shop, and swived* for her sustenance.             *prostituted herself\r\n       .       .       .       .       .       .       . <4>\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Cook\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Cheapside, where jousts were sometimes held, and which\r\nwas the great scene of city revels and processions.\r\n\r\n2. His paper: his certificate of completion of his apprenticeship.\r\n\r\n3. Louke:  The precise meaning of the word is unknown, but it\r\nis doubtless included in the cant term \u201cpal\u201d.\r\n\r\n4. The Cook\u2019s Tale is unfinished in all the manuscripts; but in\r\nsome, of minor authority, the Cook is made to break off his\r\ntale, because \u201cit is so foul,\u201d and to tell the story of Gamelyn, on\r\nwhich Shakespeare\u2019s \u201cAs You Like It\u201d is founded. The story is\r\nnot Chaucer\u2019s, and is different in metre, and inferior in\r\ncomposition to the Tales. It is supposed that Chaucer expunged\r\nthe Cook\u2019s Tale for the same reason that made him on his death-\r\nbed lament that he had written so much \u201cribaldry.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE MAN OF LAW\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nOur Hoste saw well that the brighte sun\r\nTh\u2019 arc of his artificial day had run\r\nThe fourthe part, and half an houre more;\r\nAnd, though he were not deep expert in lore,\r\nHe wist it was the eight-and-twenty day\r\nOf April, that is messenger to May;\r\nAnd saw well that the shadow of every tree\r\nWas in its length of the same quantity\r\nThat was the body erect that caused it;\r\nAnd therefore by the shadow he took his wit*,                 *knowledge\r\nThat Phoebus, which that shone so clear and bright,\r\nDegrees was five-and-forty clomb on height;\r\nAnd for that day, as in that latitude,\r\nIt was ten of the clock, he gan conclude;\r\nAnd suddenly he plight* his horse about.                     *pulled <1>\r\n\r\n\u201cLordings,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI warn you all this rout*,               *company\r\nThe fourthe partie of this day is gone.\r\nNow for the love of God and of Saint John\r\nLose no time, as farforth as ye may.\r\nLordings, the time wasteth night and day,\r\nAnd steals from us, what privily sleeping,\r\nAnd what through negligence in our waking,\r\nAs doth the stream, that turneth never again,\r\nDescending from the mountain to the plain.\r\nWell might Senec, and many a philosopher,\r\nBewaile time more than gold in coffer.\r\nFor loss of chattels may recover\u2019d be,\r\nBut loss of time shendeth* us, quoth he.                       *destroys\r\n\r\nIt will not come again, withoute dread,*\r\nNo more than will Malkin\u2019s maidenhead,<2>\r\nWhen she hath lost it in her wantonness.\r\nLet us not moulde thus in idleness.\r\n\u201cSir Man of Law,\u201d quoth he, \u201cso have ye bliss,\r\nTell us a tale anon, as forword* is.                        *the bargain\r\nYe be submitted through your free assent\r\nTo stand in this case at my judgement.\r\nAcquit you now, and *holde your behest*;             *keep your promise*\r\nThen have ye done your devoir* at the least.\u201d                      *duty\r\n\u201cHoste,\u201d quoth he, \u201cde par dieux jeo asente; <3>\r\nTo breake forword is not mine intent.\r\nBehest is debt, and I would hold it fain,\r\nAll my behest; I can no better sayn.\r\nFor such law as a man gives another wight,\r\nHe should himselfe usen it by right.\r\nThus will our text: but natheless certain\r\nI can right now no thrifty* tale sayn,                           *worthy\r\nBut Chaucer (though he *can but lewedly*         *knows but imperfectly*\r\nOn metres and on rhyming craftily)\r\nHath said them, in such English as he can,\r\nOf olde time, as knoweth many a man.\r\nAnd if he have not said them, leve* brother,                       *dear\r\nIn one book, he hath said them in another\r\nFor he hath told of lovers up and down,\r\nMore than Ovide made of mentioun\r\nIn his Epistolae, that be full old.\r\nWhy should I telle them, since they he told?\r\nIn youth he made of Ceyx and Alcyon,<4>\r\nAnd since then he hath spoke of every one\r\nThese noble wives, and these lovers eke.\r\nWhoso that will his large volume seek\r\nCalled the Saintes\u2019 Legend of Cupid:<5>\r\nThere may he see the large woundes wide\r\nOf Lucrece, and of Babylon Thisbe;\r\nThe sword of Dido for the false Enee;\r\nThe tree of Phillis for her Demophon;\r\nThe plaint of Diane, and of Hermion,\r\nOf Ariadne, and Hypsipile;\r\nThe barren isle standing in the sea;\r\nThe drown\u2019d Leander for his fair Hero;\r\nThe teares of Helene, and eke the woe\r\nOf Briseis, and Laodamia;\r\nThe cruelty of thee, Queen Medea,\r\nThy little children hanging by the halse*,                         *neck\r\nFor thy Jason, that was of love so false.\r\nHypermnestra, Penelop\u2019, Alcest\u2019,\r\nYour wifehood he commendeth with the best.\r\nBut certainly no worde writeth he\r\nOf *thilke wick\u2019* example of Canace,                       *that wicked*\r\nThat loved her own brother sinfully;\r\n(Of all such cursed stories I say, Fy),\r\nOr else of Tyrius Apollonius,\r\nHow that the cursed king Antiochus\r\nBereft his daughter of her maidenhead;\r\nThat is so horrible a tale to read,\r\nWhen he her threw upon the pavement.\r\nAnd therefore he, *of full avisement*,         *deliberately, advisedly*\r\nWould never write in none of his sermons\r\nOf such unkind* abominations;                                 *unnatural\r\nNor I will none rehearse, if that I may.\r\nBut of my tale how shall I do this day?\r\nMe were loth to be liken\u2019d doubteless\r\nTo Muses, that men call Pierides<6>\r\n(Metamorphoseos <7> wot what I mean),\r\nBut natheless I recke not a bean,\r\nThough I come after him with hawebake*;                        *lout <8>\r\nI speak in prose, and let him rhymes make.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word, he with a sober cheer\r\nBegan his tale, and said as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to The Man of Law\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Plight: pulled; the word is an obsolete past tense from\r\n\u201cpluck.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. No more than will Malkin\u2019s maidenhead: a proverbial saying;\r\nwhich, however, had obtained fresh point from the Reeve\u2019s\r\nTale, to which the host doubtless refers.\r\n\r\n3. De par dieux jeo asente: \u201cby God, I agree\u201d.  It is\r\ncharacteristic that the somewhat pompous Sergeant of Law\r\nshould couch his assent in the semi-barbarous French, then\r\nfamiliar in law procedure.\r\n\r\n4. Ceyx and Alcyon: Chaucer treats of these in the introduction\r\nto the poem called \u201cThe Book of the Duchess.\u201d  It relates to the\r\ndeath of Blanche, wife of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the\r\npoet\u2019s patron, and afterwards his connexion by marriage.\r\n\r\n5. The Saintes Legend of Cupid: Now called \u201cThe Legend of\r\nGood Women\u201d. The names of eight ladies mentioned here are\r\nnot in the \u201cLegend\u201d as it has come down to us; while those of\r\ntwo ladies in the \u201clegend\u201d \u2014 Cleopatra and Philomela \u2014 are her\r\nomitted.\r\n\r\n6. Not the Muses, who had their surname from the place near\r\nMount Olympus where the Thracians first worshipped them; but\r\nthe nine daughters of Pierus, king of Macedonia, whom he\r\ncalled the nine Muses, and who, being conquered in a contest\r\nwith the genuine sisterhood, were changed into birds.\r\n\r\n7. Metamorphoseos:  Ovid\u2019s.\r\n\r\n8. Hawebake: hawbuck, country lout; the common proverbial\r\nphrase, \u201cto put a rogue above a gentleman,\u201d may throw light on\r\nthe reading here, which is difficult.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nO scatheful harm, condition of poverty,\r\nWith thirst, with cold, with hunger so confounded;\r\nTo aske help thee shameth in thine hearte;\r\nIf thou none ask, so sore art thou y-wounded,\r\nThat very need unwrappeth all thy wound hid.\r\nMaugre thine head thou must for indigence\r\nOr steal, or beg, or borrow thy dispence*.                      *expense\r\n\r\nThou blamest Christ, and sayst full bitterly,\r\nHe misdeparteth* riches temporal;                          *allots amiss\r\nThy neighebour thou witest* sinfully,                           *blamest\r\nAnd sayst, thou hast too little, and he hath all:\r\n\u201cParfay (sayst thou) sometime he reckon shall,\r\nWhen that his tail shall *brennen in the glede*,      *burn in the fire*\r\nFor he not help\u2019d the needful in their need.\u201d\r\n\r\nHearken what is the sentence of the wise:\r\nBetter to die than to have indigence.\r\n*Thy selve* neighebour will thee despise,                    *that same*\r\nIf thou be poor, farewell thy reverence.\r\nYet of the wise man take this sentence,\r\nAlle the days of poore men be wick\u2019*,                      *wicked, evil\r\nBeware therefore ere thou come to that prick*.                    *point\r\n\r\nIf thou be poor, thy brother hateth thee,\r\nAnd all thy friendes flee from thee, alas!\r\nO riche merchants, full of wealth be ye,\r\nO noble, prudent folk, as in this case,\r\nYour bagges be not fill\u2019d with *ambes ace,*                   *two aces*\r\nBut with *six-cinque*, that runneth for your chance;<2>       *six-five*\r\nAt Christenmass well merry may ye dance.\r\n\r\nYe seeke land and sea for your winnings,\r\nAs wise folk ye knowen all th\u2019 estate\r\nOf regnes*;  ye be fathers of tidings,                         *kingdoms\r\nAnd tales, both of peace and of debate*:                *contention, war\r\nI were right now of tales desolate*,                     *barren, empty.\r\nBut that a merchant, gone in many a year,\r\nMe taught a tale, which ye shall after hear.\r\n\r\nIn Syria whilom dwelt a company\r\nOf chapmen rich, and thereto sad* and true,            *grave, steadfast\r\nClothes of gold, and satins rich of hue.\r\nThat widewhere* sent their spicery,                    *to distant parts\r\nTheir chaffare* was so thriftly** and so new,      *wares **advantageous\r\nThat every wight had dainty* to chaffare**              *pleasure **deal\r\nWith them, and eke to selle them their ware.\r\n\r\nNow fell it, that the masters of that sort\r\nHave *shapen them* to Rome for to wend,           *determined, prepared*\r\nWere it for chapmanhood* or for disport,                        *trading\r\nNone other message would they thither send,\r\nBut come themselves to Rome, this is the end:\r\nAnd in such place as thought them a vantage\r\nFor their intent, they took their herbergage.*                  *lodging\r\n\r\nSojourned have these merchants in that town\r\nA certain time as fell to their pleasance:\r\nAnd so befell, that th\u2019 excellent renown\r\nOf th\u2019 emperore\u2019s daughter, Dame Constance,\r\nReported was, with every circumstance,\r\nUnto these Syrian merchants in such wise,\r\nFrom day to day, as I shall you devise*                          *relate\r\n\r\nThis was the common voice of every man\r\n\u201cOur emperor of Rome, God him see*,                 *look on with favour\r\nA daughter hath, that since the the world began,\r\nTo reckon as well her goodness and beauty,\r\nWas never such another as is she:\r\nI pray to God in honour her sustene*,                           *sustain\r\nAnd would she were of all Europe the queen.\r\n\r\n\u201cIn her is highe beauty without pride,\r\nAnd youth withoute greenhood* or folly:        *childishness, immaturity\r\nTo all her workes virtue is her guide;\r\nHumbless hath slain in her all tyranny:\r\nShe is the mirror of all courtesy,\r\nHer heart a very chamber of holiness,\r\nHer hand minister of freedom for almess*.\u201d                   *almsgiving\r\n\r\nAnd all this voice was sooth, as God is true;\r\nBut now to purpose* let us turn again.                     *our tale <3>\r\nThese merchants have done freight their shippes new,\r\nAnd when they have this blissful maiden seen,\r\nHome to Syria then they went full fain,\r\nAnd did their needes*, as they have done yore,*     *business **formerly\r\nAnd liv\u2019d in weal*; I can you say no more.                   *prosperity\r\n\r\nNow fell it, that these merchants stood in grace*                *favour\r\nOf him that was the Soudan* of Syrie:                            *Sultan\r\nFor when they came from any strange place\r\nHe would of his benigne courtesy\r\nMake them good cheer, and busily espy*                          *inquire\r\nTidings of sundry regnes*, for to lear**                 *realms **learn\r\nThe wonders that they mighte see or hear.\r\n\r\nAmonges other thinges, specially\r\nThese merchants have him told of Dame Constance\r\nSo great nobless, in earnest so royally,\r\nThat this Soudan hath caught so great pleasance*               *pleasure\r\nTo have her figure in his remembrance,\r\nThat all his lust*, and all his busy cure**,            *pleasure **care\r\nWas for to love her while his life may dure.\r\n\r\nParaventure in thilke* large book,                                 *that\r\nWhich that men call the heaven, y-written was\r\nWith starres, when that he his birthe took,\r\nThat he for love should have his death, alas!\r\nFor in the starres, clearer than is glass,\r\nIs written, God wot, whoso could it read,\r\nThe death of every man withoute dread.*                           *doubt\r\n\r\nIn starres many a winter therebeforn\r\nWas writ the death of Hector, Achilles,\r\nOf Pompey, Julius, ere they were born;\r\nThe strife of Thebes; and of Hercules,\r\nOf Samson, Turnus, and of Socrates\r\nThe death; but mennes wittes be so dull,\r\nThat no wight can well read it at the full.\r\n\r\nThis Soudan for his privy council sent,\r\nAnd, *shortly of this matter for to pace*,          *to pass briefly by*\r\nHe hath to them declared his intent,\r\nAnd told them certain, but* he might have grace                  *unless\r\nTo have Constance, within a little space,\r\nHe was but dead; and charged them in hie*                         *haste\r\nTo shape* for his life some remedy.                            *contrive\r\n\r\nDiverse men diverse thinges said;\r\nAnd arguments they casten up and down;\r\nMany a subtle reason forth they laid;\r\nThey speak of magic, and abusion*;                            *deception\r\nBut finally, as in conclusion,\r\nThey cannot see in that none avantage,\r\nNor in no other way, save marriage.\r\n\r\nThen saw they therein such difficulty\r\nBy way of reason, for to speak all plain,\r\nBecause that there was such diversity\r\nBetween their bothe lawes, that they sayn,\r\nThey trowe* that no Christian prince would fain**   *believe **willingly\r\nWedden his child under our lawe sweet,\r\nThat us was given by Mahound* our prophete.                     *Mahomet\r\n\r\nAnd he answered: \u201cRather than I lose\r\nConstance, I will be christen\u2019d doubteless\r\nI must be hers, I may none other choose,\r\nI pray you hold your arguments in peace,<4>\r\nSave my life, and be not reckeless\r\nTo gette her that hath my life in cure,*                        *keeping\r\nFor in this woe I may not long endure.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhat needeth greater dilatation?\r\nI say, by treaty and ambassadry,\r\nAnd by the Pope\u2019s mediation,\r\nAnd all the Church, and all the chivalry,\r\nThat in destruction of Mah\u2019metry,*                         *Mahometanism\r\nAnd in increase of Christe\u2019s lawe dear,\r\nThey be accorded* so as ye may hear;                             *agreed\r\n\r\nHow that the Soudan, and his baronage,\r\nAnd all his lieges, shall y-christen\u2019d be,\r\nAnd he shall have Constance in marriage,\r\nAnd certain gold, I n\u2019ot* what quantity,                       *know not\r\nAnd hereto find they suffisant surety.\r\nThe same accord is sworn on either side;\r\nNow, fair Constance, Almighty God thee guide!\r\n\r\nNow woulde some men waiten, as I guess,\r\nThat I should tellen all the purveyance*,                     *provision\r\nThe which the emperor of his noblesse\r\nHath shapen* for his daughter, Dame Constance.                 *prepared\r\nWell may men know that so great ordinance\r\nMay no man tellen in a little clause,\r\nAs was arrayed for so high a cause.\r\n\r\nBishops be shapen with her for to wend,\r\nLordes, ladies, and knightes of renown,\r\nAnd other folk enough, this is the end.\r\nAnd notified is throughout all the town,\r\nThat every wight with great devotioun\r\nShould pray to Christ, that he this marriage\r\nReceive *in gree*, and speede this voyage.      *with good will, favour*\r\n\r\nThe day is comen of her departing, \u2014\r\nI say the woful fatal day is come,\r\nThat there may be no longer tarrying,\r\nBut forward they them dressen* all and some.        *prepare to set out*\r\nConstance, that was with sorrow all o\u2019ercome,\r\nFull pale arose, and dressed her to wend,\r\nFor well she saw there was no other end.\r\n\r\nAlas! what wonder is it though she wept,\r\nThat shall be sent to a strange nation\r\nFrom friendes, that so tenderly her kept,\r\nAnd to be bound under subjection\r\nof one, she knew not his condition?\r\nHusbands be all good, and have been *of yore*,                  *of old*\r\nThat knowe wives; I dare say no more.\r\n\r\n\u201cFather,\u201d she said, \u201cthy wretched child Constance,\r\nThy younge daughter, foster\u2019d up so soft,\r\nAnd you, my mother, my sov\u2019reign pleasance\r\nOver all thing, out-taken* Christ *on loft*,          *except  *on high*\r\nConstance your child her recommendeth oft\r\nUnto your grace; for I shall to Syrie,\r\nNor shall I ever see you more with eye.\r\n\r\n\u201cAlas! unto the barbarous nation\r\nI must anon, since that it is your will:\r\nBut Christ, that starf* for our redemption,                        *died\r\nSo give me grace his hestes* to fulfil.                        *commands\r\nI, wretched woman, *no force though I spill!*          *no matter though\r\nWomen are born to thraldom and penance,                        I perish*\r\nAnd to be under mannes governance.\u201d\r\n\r\nI trow at Troy when Pyrrhus brake the wall,\r\nOr Ilion burnt, or Thebes the city,\r\nNor at Rome for the harm through Hannibal,\r\nThat Romans hath y-vanquish\u2019d times three,\r\nWas heard such tender weeping for pity,\r\nAs in the chamber was for her parting;\r\nBut forth she must, whether she weep or sing.\r\n\r\nO firste moving cruel Firmament,<5>\r\nWith thy diurnal sway that crowdest* aye,     *pushest together, drivest\r\nAnd hurtlest all from East till Occident\r\nThat naturally would hold another way;\r\nThy crowding set the heav\u2019n in such array\r\nAt the beginning of this fierce voyage,\r\nThat cruel Mars hath slain this marriage.\r\n\r\nUnfortunate ascendant tortuous,\r\nOf which the lord is helpless fall\u2019n, alas!\r\nOut of his angle into the darkest house;\r\nO Mars, O Atyzar,<6> as in this case;\r\nO feeble Moon, unhappy is thy pace.*                           *progress\r\nThou knittest thee where thou art not receiv\u2019d,\r\nWhere thou wert well, from thennes art thou weiv\u2019d. <7>\r\n\r\nImprudent emperor of Rome, alas!\r\nWas there no philosopher in all thy town?\r\nIs no time bet* than other in such case?                         *better\r\nOf voyage is there none election,\r\nNamely* to folk of high condition,                           *especially\r\nNot *when a root is of a birth y-know?*     *when the nativity is known*\r\nAlas! we be too lewed*, or too slow.                           *ignorant\r\n\r\nTo ship was brought this woeful faire maid\r\nSolemnely, with every circumstance:\r\n\u201cNow Jesus Christ be with you all,\u201d she said.\r\nThere is no more,but \u201cFarewell, fair Constance.\u201d\r\nShe *pained her* to make good countenance.              *made an effort*\r\nAnd forth I let her sail in this manner,\r\nAnd turn I will again to my matter.\r\n\r\nThe mother of the Soudan, well of vices,\r\nEspied hath her sone\u2019s plain intent,\r\nHow he will leave his olde sacrifices:\r\nAnd right anon she for her council sent,\r\nAnd they be come, to knowe what she meant,\r\nAnd when assembled was this folk *in fere*,                   *together*\r\nShe sat her down, and said as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cLordes,\u201d she said, \u201cye knowen every one,\r\nHow that my son in point is for to lete*                        *forsake\r\nThe holy lawes of our Alkaron*,                                   *Koran\r\nGiven by God\u2019s messenger Mahomete:\r\nBut one avow to greate God I hete*,                             *promise\r\nLife shall rather out of my body start,\r\nThan Mahomet\u2019s law go out of mine heart.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat should us tiden* of this newe law,                 *betide, befall\r\nBut thraldom to our bodies, and penance,\r\nAnd afterward in hell to be y-draw,\r\nFor we *renied Mahound our creance?*         *denied Mahomet our belief*\r\nBut, lordes, will ye maken assurance,\r\nAs I shall say, assenting to my lore*?                           *advice\r\nAnd I shall make us safe for evermore.\u201d\r\n\r\nThey sworen and assented every man\r\nTo live with her and die, and by her stand:\r\nAnd every one, in the best wise he can,\r\nTo strengthen her shall all his friendes fand.*            *endeavour<8>\r\nAnd she hath this emprise taken in hand,\r\nWhich ye shall heare that I shall devise*;                       *relate\r\nAnd to them all she spake right in this wise.\r\n\r\n\u201cWe shall first feign us *Christendom to take*;   *embrace Christianity*\r\nCold water shall not grieve us but a lite*:                      *little\r\nAnd I shall such a feast and revel make,\r\nThat, as I trow, I shall the Soudan quite.*              *requite, match\r\nFor though his wife be christen\u2019d ne\u2019er so white,\r\nShe shall have need to wash away the red,\r\nThough she a fount of water with her led.\u201d\r\n\r\nO Soudaness*, root of iniquity,                               *Sultaness\r\nVirago thou, Semiramis the second!\r\nO serpent under femininity,\r\nLike to the serpent deep in hell y-bound!\r\nO feigned woman, all that may confound\r\nVirtue and innocence, through thy malice,\r\nIs bred in thee, as nest of every vice!\r\n\r\nO Satan envious! since thilke day\r\nThat thou wert chased from our heritage,\r\nWell knowest thou to woman th\u2019 olde way.\r\nThou madest Eve to bring us in servage*:                        *bondage\r\nThou wilt fordo* this Christian marriage:                          *ruin\r\nThine instrument so (well-away the while!)\r\nMak\u2019st thou of women when thou wilt beguile.\r\n\r\nThis Soudaness, whom I thus blame and warray*,          *oppose, censure\r\nLet privily her council go their way:\r\nWhy should I in this tale longer tarry?\r\nShe rode unto the Soudan on a day,\r\nAnd said him, that she would *reny her lay,*        *renounce her creed*\r\nAnd Christendom of priestes\u2019 handes fong*,                      *take<9>\r\nRepenting her she heathen was so long;\r\n\r\nBeseeching him to do her that honour,\r\nThat she might have the Christian folk to feast:\r\n\u201cTo please them I will do my labour.\u201d\r\nThe Soudan said, \u201cI will do at your hest,*\u201d                      *desire\r\nAnd kneeling, thanked her for that request;\r\nSo glad he was, he wist* not what to say.                          *knew\r\nShe kiss\u2019d her son, and home she went her way.\r\n\r\nArrived be these Christian folk to land\r\nIn Syria, with a great solemne rout,\r\nAnd hastily this Soudan sent his sond,*                         *message\r\nFirst to his mother, and all the realm about,\r\nAnd said, his wife was comen out of doubt,\r\nAnd pray\u2019d them for to ride again* the queen,                   *to meet\r\nThe honour of his regne* to sustene.                              *realm\r\n\r\nGreat was the press, and rich was the array\r\nOf Syrians and Romans met *in fere*.                        *in company*\r\nThe mother of the Soudan rich and gay\r\nReceived her with all so glad a cheer*                             *face\r\nAs any mother might her daughter dear\r\nAnd to the nexte city there beside\r\nA softe pace solemnely they ride.\r\n\r\nNought, trow I, the triumph of Julius\r\nOf which that Lucan maketh such a boast,\r\nWas royaller, or more curious,\r\nThan was th\u2019 assembly of this blissful host\r\nBut O this scorpion, this wicked ghost,*                         *spirit\r\nThe Soudaness, for all her flattering\r\nCast* under this full mortally to sting.                      *contrived\r\n\r\nThe Soudan came himself soon after this,\r\nSo royally, that wonder is to tell,\r\nAnd welcomed her with all joy and bliss.\r\nAnd thus in mirth and joy I let them dwell.\r\nThe fruit of his matter is that I tell;\r\nWhen the time came, men thought it for the best\r\nThat revel stint,* and men go to their rest.                      *cease\r\n\r\nThe time is come that this old Soudaness\r\nOrdained hath the feast of which I told,\r\nAnd to the feast the Christian folk them dress\r\nIn general, yea, bothe young and old.\r\nThere may men feast and royalty behold,\r\nAnd dainties more than I can you devise;\r\nBut all too dear they bought it ere they rise.\r\n\r\nO sudden woe, that ev\u2019r art successour\r\nTo worldly bliss! sprent* is with bitterness                  *sprinkled\r\nTh\u2019 end of our joy, of our worldly labour;\r\nWoe *occupies the fine* of our gladness.                *seizes the end*\r\nHearken this counsel, for thy sickerness*:                     *security\r\nUpon thy glade days have in thy mind\r\nThe unware* woe of harm, that comes behind.                  *unforeseen\r\n\r\nFor, shortly for to tell it at a word,\r\nThe Soudan and the Christians every one\r\nWere all *to-hewn and sticked* at the board,             *cut to pieces*\r\nBut it were only Dame Constance alone.\r\nThis olde Soudaness, this cursed crone,\r\nHad with her friendes done this cursed deed,\r\nFor she herself would all the country lead.\r\n\r\nNor there was Syrian that was converted,\r\nThat of the counsel of the Soudan wot*,                            *knew\r\nThat was not all to-hewn, ere he asterted*:                     *escaped\r\nAnd Constance have they ta\u2019en anon foot-hot*,               *immediately\r\nAnd in a ship all steereless,* God wot,                  *without rudder\r\nThey have her set, and bid her learn to sail\r\nOut of Syria *again-ward to Itale.*                      *back to Italy*\r\n\r\nA certain treasure that she thither lad,*                          *took\r\nAnd, sooth to say, of victual great plenty,\r\nThey have her giv\u2019n, and clothes eke she had\r\nAnd forth she sailed in the salte sea:\r\nO my Constance, full of benignity,\r\nO emperores younge daughter dear,\r\nHe that is lord of fortune be thy steer*!                 *rudder, guide\r\n\r\nShe bless\u2019d herself, and with full piteous voice\r\nUnto the cross of Christ thus saide she;\r\n\u201cO dear, O wealful* altar, holy cross,              *blessed, beneficent\r\nRed of the Lambes blood, full of pity,\r\nThat wash\u2019d the world from old iniquity,\r\nMe from the fiend and from his clawes keep,\r\nThat day that I shall drenchen* in the deepe.                     *drown\r\n\r\n\u201cVictorious tree, protection of the true,\r\nThat only worthy were for to bear\r\nThe King of Heaven, with his woundes new,\r\nThe white Lamb, that hurt was with a spear;\r\nFlemer* of fiendes out of him and her              *banisher, driver out\r\nOn which thy limbes faithfully extend,<10>\r\nMe keep, and give me might my life to mend.\u201d\r\n\r\nYeares and days floated this creature\r\nThroughout the sea of Greece, unto the strait\r\nOf Maroc*, as it was her a venture:                  *Morocco; Gibraltar\r\nOn many a sorry meal now may she bait,\r\nAfter her death full often may she wait*,                        *expect\r\nEre that the wilde waves will her drive\r\nUnto the place *there as* she shall arrive.                       *where\r\n\r\nMen mighten aske, why she was not slain?\r\nEke at the feast who might her body save?\r\nAnd I answer to that demand again,\r\nWho saved Daniel in the horrible cave,\r\nWhere every wight, save he, master or knave*,                   *servant\r\nWas with the lion frett*, ere he astart?**          *devoured ** escaped\r\nNo wight but God, that he bare in his heart.\r\n\r\nGod list* to shew his wonderful miracle                      *it pleased\r\nIn her, that we should see his mighty workes:\r\nChrist, which that is to every harm triacle*,             *remedy, salve\r\nBy certain meanes oft, as knowe clerkes*,                      *scholars\r\nDoth thing for certain ende, that full derk is\r\nTo manne\u2019s wit, that for our, ignorance\r\nNe cannot know his prudent purveyance*.                       *foresight\r\n\r\nNow since she was not at the feast y-slaw,*                       *slain\r\nWho kepte her from drowning in the sea?\r\nWho kepte Jonas in the fish\u2019s maw,\r\nTill he was spouted up at Nineveh?\r\nWell may men know, it was no wight but he\r\nThat kept the Hebrew people from drowning,\r\nWith drye feet throughout the sea passing.\r\n\r\nWho bade the foure spirits of tempest,<11>\r\nThat power have t\u2019 annoye land and sea,\r\nBoth north and south, and also west and east,\r\nAnnoye neither sea, nor land, nor tree?\r\nSoothly the commander of that was he\r\nThat from the tempest aye this woman kept,\r\nAs well when she awoke as when she slept.\r\n\r\nWhere might this woman meat and drinke have?\r\nThree year and more how lasted her vitaille*?                  *victuals\r\nWho fed the Egyptian Mary in the cave\r\nOr in desert? no wight but Christ *sans faille.*          *without fail*\r\nFive thousand folk it was as great marvaille\r\nWith loaves five and fishes two to feed\r\nGod sent his foison* at her greate need.                      *abundance\r\n\r\nShe drived forth into our ocean\r\nThroughout our wilde sea, till at the last\r\nUnder an hold*, that nempnen** I not can,                 *castle **name\r\nFar in Northumberland, the wave her cast\r\nAnd in the sand her ship sticked so fast\r\nThat thennes would it not in all a tide: <12>\r\nThe will of Christ was that she should abide.\r\n\r\nThe Constable of the castle down did fare*                           *go\r\nTo see this wreck, and all the ship he sought*,                *searched\r\nAnd found this weary woman full of care;\r\nHe found also the treasure that she brought:\r\nIn her language mercy she besought,\r\nThe life out of her body for to twin*,                           *divide\r\nHer to deliver of woe that she was in.\r\n\r\nA manner Latin corrupt <13> was her speech,\r\nBut algate* thereby was she understond.                    *nevertheless\r\nThe Constable, when him list no longer seech*,                   *search\r\nThis woeful woman brought he to the lond.\r\nShe kneeled down, and thanked *Godde\u2019s sond*;        *what God had sent*\r\nBut what she was she would to no man say\r\nFor foul nor fair, although that she should dey.*                   *die\r\n\r\nShe said, she was so mazed in the sea,\r\nThat she forgot her minde, by her truth.\r\nThe Constable had of her so great pity\r\nAnd eke his wife, that they wept for ruth:*                        *pity\r\nShe was so diligent withoute slouth\r\nTo serve and please every one in that place,\r\nThat all her lov\u2019d, that looked in her face.\r\n\r\nThe Constable and Dame Hermegild his wife\r\nWere Pagans, and that country every where;\r\nBut Hermegild lov\u2019d Constance as her life;\r\nAnd Constance had so long sojourned there\r\nIn orisons, with many a bitter tear,\r\nTill Jesus had converted through His grace\r\nDame Hermegild, Constabless of that place.\r\n\r\nIn all that land no Christians durste rout;*                   *assemble\r\nAll Christian folk had fled from that country\r\nThrough Pagans, that conquered all about\r\nThe plages* of the North by land and sea.               *regions, coasts\r\nTo Wales had fled the *Christianity                 *the Old Britons who\r\nOf olde Britons,* dwelling in this isle;                were Christians*\r\nThere was their refuge for the meanewhile.\r\n\r\nBut yet n\u2019ere* Christian Britons so exiled,                  *there were\r\nThat there n\u2019ere* some which in their privity                        not\r\nHonoured Christ, and heathen folk beguiled;\r\nAnd nigh the castle such there dwelled three:\r\nAnd one of them was blind, and might not see,\r\nBut* it were with thilk* eyen of his mind,               *except **those\r\nWith which men maye see when they be blind.\r\n\r\nBright was the sun, as in a summer\u2019s day,\r\nFor which the Constable, and his wife also,\r\nAnd Constance, have y-take the righte way\r\nToward the sea a furlong way or two,\r\nTo playen, and to roame to and fro;\r\nAnd in their walk this blinde man they met,\r\nCrooked and old, with eyen fast y-shet.*                           *shut\r\n\r\n\u201cIn the name of Christ,\u201d cried this blind Briton,\r\n\u201cDame Hermegild, give me my sight again!\u201d\r\nThis lady *wax\u2019d afrayed of that soun\u2019,*       *was alarmed by that cry*\r\nLest that her husband, shortly for to sayn,\r\nWould her for Jesus Christe\u2019s love have slain,\r\nTill Constance made her hold, and bade her wirch*                  *work\r\nThe will of Christ, as daughter of holy Church\r\n\r\nThe Constable wax\u2019d abashed* of that sight,                  *astonished\r\nAnd saide; *\u201cWhat amounteth all this fare?\u201d*             *what means all\r\nConstance answered; \u201cSir, it is Christ\u2019s might,               this ado?*\r\nThat helpeth folk out of the fiendes snare:\u201d\r\nAnd *so farforth* she gan our law declare,            *with such effect*\r\nThat she the Constable, ere that it were eve,\r\nConverted, and on Christ made him believe.\r\n\r\nThis Constable was not lord of the place\r\nOf which I speak, there as he Constance fand,*                    *found\r\nBut kept it strongly many a winter space,\r\nUnder Alla, king of Northumberland,\r\nThat was full wise, and worthy of his hand\r\nAgainst the Scotes, as men may well hear;\r\nBut turn I will again to my mattere.\r\n\r\nSatan, that ever us waiteth to beguile,\r\nSaw of Constance all her perfectioun,\r\nAnd *cast anon how he might quite her while;*    *considered how to have\r\nAnd made a young knight, that dwelt in that town,        revenge on her*\r\nLove her so hot of foul affectioun,\r\nThat verily him thought that he should spill*                    *perish\r\nBut* he of her might ones have his will.                         *unless\r\n\r\nHe wooed her, but it availed nought;\r\nShe woulde do no sinne by no way:\r\nAnd for despite, he compassed his thought\r\nTo make her a shameful death to dey;*                               *die\r\nHe waiteth when the Constable is away,\r\nAnd privily upon a night he crept\r\nIn Hermegilda\u2019s chamber while she slept.\r\n\r\nWeary, forwaked* in her orisons,                 *having been long awake\r\nSleepeth Constance, and Hermegild also.\r\nThis knight, through Satanas\u2019 temptation;\r\nAll softetly is to the bed y-go,*                                  *gone\r\nAnd cut the throat of Hermegild in two,\r\nAnd laid the bloody knife by Dame Constance,\r\nAnd went his way, there God give him mischance.\r\n\r\nSoon after came the Constable home again,\r\nAnd eke Alla that king was of that land,\r\nAnd saw his wife dispiteously* slain,                           *cruelly\r\nFor which full oft he wept and wrung his hand;\r\nAnd ill the bed the bloody knife he fand\r\nBy Dame Constance: Alas! what might she say?\r\nFor very woe her wit was all away.\r\n\r\nTo King Alla was told all this mischance\r\nAnd eke the time, and where, and in what wise\r\nThat in a ship was founden this Constance,\r\nAs here before ye have me heard devise:*                       *describe\r\nThe kinges heart for pity *gan agrise,*      *to be grieved, to tremble*\r\nWhen he saw so benign a creature\r\nFall in disease* and in misaventure.                           *distress\r\n\r\nFor as the lamb toward his death is brought,\r\nSo stood this innocent before the king:\r\nThis false knight, that had this treason wrought,\r\n*Bore her in hand* that she had done this thing:   *accused her falsely*\r\nBut natheless there was great murmuring\r\nAmong the people, that say they cannot guess\r\nThat she had done so great a wickedness.\r\n\r\nFor they had seen her ever virtuous,\r\nAnd loving Hermegild right as her life:\r\nOf this bare witness each one in that house,\r\nSave he that Hermegild slew with his knife:\r\nThis gentle king had *caught a great motife*         *been greatly moved\r\nOf this witness, and thought he would inquere           by the evidence*\r\nDeeper into this case, the truth to lear.*                        *learn\r\n\r\nAlas! Constance, thou has no champion,\r\nNor fighte canst thou not, so well-away!\r\nBut he that starf for our redemption,                              *died\r\nAnd bound Satan, and yet li\u2019th where he lay,\r\nSo be thy stronge champion this day:\r\nFor, but Christ upon thee miracle kithe,*                          *show\r\nWithoute guilt thou shalt be slain *as swithe.*            *immediately*\r\n\r\nShe set her down on knees, and thus she said;\r\n\u201cImmortal God, that savedest Susanne\r\nFrom false blame; and thou merciful maid,\r\nMary I mean, the daughter to Saint Anne,\r\nBefore whose child the angels sing Osanne,*                     *Hosanna\r\nIf I be guiltless of this felony,\r\nMy succour be, or elles shall I die.\u201d\r\n\r\nHave ye not seen sometime a pale face\r\n(Among a press) of him that hath been lad*                          *led\r\nToward his death, where he getteth no grace,\r\nAnd such a colour in his face hath had,\r\nMen mighte know him that was so bestad*                *bested, situated\r\nAmonges all the faces in that rout?\r\nSo stood Constance, and looked her about.\r\n\r\nO queenes living in prosperity,\r\nDuchesses, and ye ladies every one,\r\nHave some ruth* on her adversity!                                  *pity\r\nAn emperor\u2019s daughter, she stood alone;\r\nShe had no wight to whom to make her moan.\r\nO blood royal, that standest in this drede,*                     *danger\r\nFar be thy friendes in thy greate need!\r\n\r\nThis king Alla had such compassioun,\r\nAs gentle heart is full filled of pity,\r\nThat from his eyen ran the water down\r\n\u201cNow hastily do fetch a book,\u201d quoth he;\r\n\u201cAnd if this knight will sweare, how that she\r\nThis woman slew, yet will we us advise*                        *consider\r\nWhom that we will that shall be our justice.\u201d\r\n\r\nA Briton book, written with Evangiles,*                     *the Gospels\r\nWas  fetched, and on this book he swore anon\r\nShe guilty was; and, in the meanewhiles,\r\nAn hand him smote upon the necke bone,\r\nThat down he fell at once right as a stone:\r\nAnd both his eyen burst out of his face\r\nIn sight of ev\u2019rybody in that place.\r\n\r\nA voice was heard, in general audience,\r\nThat said; \u201cThou hast deslander\u2019d guilteless\r\nThe daughter of holy Church in high presence;\r\nThus hast thou done, and yet *hold I my peace?\u201d*    *shall I be silent?*\r\nOf this marvel aghast was all the press,\r\nAs mazed folk they stood every one\r\nFor dread of wreake,* save Constance alone.                   *vengeance\r\n\r\nGreat was the dread and eke the repentance\r\nOf them that hadde wrong suspicion\r\nUpon this sely* innocent Constance;                    *simple, harmless\r\nAnd for this miracle, in conclusion,\r\nAnd by Constance\u2019s mediation,\r\nThe king, and many another in that place,\r\nConverted was, thanked be Christe\u2019s grace!\r\n\r\nThis false knight was slain for his untruth\r\nBy judgement of Alla hastily;\r\nAnd yet Constance had of his death great ruth;*              *compassion\r\nAnd after this Jesus of his mercy\r\nMade Alla wedde full solemnely\r\nThis holy woman, that is so bright and sheen,\r\nAnd thus hath Christ y-made Constance a queen.\r\n\r\nBut who was woeful, if I shall not lie,\r\nOf this wedding but Donegild, and no mo\u2019,\r\nThe kinge\u2019s mother, full of tyranny?\r\nHer thought her cursed heart would burst in two;\r\nShe would not that her son had done so;\r\nHer thought it a despite that he should take\r\nSo strange a creature unto his make.*                     *mate, consort\r\n\r\nMe list not of the chaff nor of the stre*                         *straw\r\nMake so long a tale, as of the corn.\r\nWhat should I tellen of the royalty\r\nOf this marriage, or which course goes beforn,\r\nWho bloweth in a trump or in an horn?\r\nThe fruit of every tale is for to say;\r\nThey eat and drink, and dance, and sing, and play.\r\n\r\nThey go to bed, as it was skill* and right;                  *reasonable\r\nFor though that wives be full holy things,\r\nThey muste take in patience at night\r\nSuch manner* necessaries as be pleasings                        *kind of\r\nTo folk that have y-wedded them with rings,\r\nAnd lay *a lite* their holiness aside                      *a little of*\r\nAs for the time, it may no better betide.\r\n\r\nOn her he got a knave* child anon,                            *male <14>\r\nAnd to a Bishop and to his Constable eke\r\nHe took his wife to keep, when he is gone\r\nTo Scotland-ward, his foemen for to seek.\r\nNow fair Constance, that is so humble and meek,\r\nSo long is gone with childe till that still\r\nShe held her chamb\u2019r, abiding Christe\u2019s will\r\n\r\nThe time is come, a knave child she bare;\r\nMauricius at the font-stone they him call.\r\nThis Constable *doth forth come* a messenger,     *caused to come forth*\r\nAnd wrote unto his king that clep\u2019d was All\u2019,\r\nHow that this blissful tiding is befall,\r\nAnd other tidings speedful for to say\r\nHe* hath the letter, and forth he go\u2019th his way.     *i.e. the messenger\r\n\r\nThis messenger, to *do his avantage,*         *promote his own interest*\r\nUnto the kinge\u2019s mother rideth swithe,*                         *swiftly\r\nAnd saluteth her full fair in his language.\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cye may be glad and blithe,\r\nAnd thanke God an hundred thousand sithe;*                        *times\r\nMy lady queen hath child, withoute doubt,\r\nTo joy and bliss of all this realm about.\r\n\r\n\u201cLo, here the letter sealed of this thing,\r\nThat I must bear with all the haste I may:\r\nIf ye will aught unto your son the king,\r\nI am your servant both by night and day.\u201d\r\nDonegild answer\u2019d, \u201cAs now at this time, nay;\r\nBut here I will all night thou take thy rest,\r\nTo-morrow will I say thee what me lest.*\u201d                       *pleases\r\n\r\nThis messenger drank sadly* ale and wine,                      *steadily\r\nAnd stolen were his letters privily\r\nOut of his box, while he slept as a swine;\r\nAnd counterfeited was full subtilly\r\nAnother letter, wrote full sinfully,\r\nUnto the king, direct of this mattere\r\nFrom his Constable, as ye shall after hear.\r\n\r\nThis letter said, the queen deliver\u2019d was\r\nOf so horrible a fiendlike creature,\r\nThat in the castle none so hardy* was                             *brave\r\nThat any while he durst therein endure:\r\nThe mother was an elf by aventure\r\nBecome, by charmes or by sorcery,\r\nAnd every man hated her company.\r\n\r\nWoe was this king when he this letter had seen,\r\nBut to no wight he told his sorrows sore,\r\nBut with his owen hand he wrote again,\r\n\u201cWelcome the sond* of Christ for evermore                 *will, sending\r\nTo me, that am now learned in this lore:\r\nLord, welcome be thy lust* and thy pleasance,            *will, pleasure\r\nMy lust I put all in thine ordinance.\r\n\r\n\u201cKeepe*  this child, albeit foul or fair,                      *preserve\r\nAnd eke my wife, unto mine homecoming:\r\nChrist when him list may send to me an heir\r\nMore agreeable than this to my liking.\u201d\r\nThis letter he sealed, privily weeping.\r\nWhich to the messenger was taken soon,\r\nAnd forth he went, there is no more to do\u2019n.*                        *do\r\n\r\nO messenger full fill\u2019d of drunkenness,\r\nStrong is thy breath, thy limbes falter aye,\r\nAnd thou betrayest alle secretness;\r\nThy mind is lorn,* thou janglest as a jay;                         *lost\r\nThy face is turned in a new array;*                              *aspect\r\nWhere drunkenness reigneth in any rout,*                        *company\r\nThere is no counsel hid, withoute doubt.\r\n\r\nO Donegild, I have no English dign*                              *worthy\r\nUnto thy malice, and thy tyranny:\r\nAnd therefore to the fiend I thee resign,\r\nLet him indite of all thy treachery\r\n\u2018Fy, mannish,* fy! O nay, by God I lie;                 *unwomanly woman\r\nFy, fiendlike spirit! for I dare well tell,\r\nThough thou here walk, thy spirit is in hell.\r\n\r\nThis messenger came from the king again,\r\nAnd at the kinge\u2019s mother\u2019s court he light,*                   *alighted\r\nAnd she was of this messenger full fain,*                          *glad\r\nAnd pleased him in all that e\u2019er she might.\r\nHe drank, and *well his girdle underpight*;        *stowed away (liquor)\r\nHe slept, and eke he snored in his guise               under his girdle*\r\nAll night, until the sun began to rise.\r\n\r\nEft* were his letters stolen every one,                           *again\r\nAnd counterfeited letters in this wise:\r\nThe king commanded his Constable anon,\r\nOn pain of hanging and of high jewise,*                       *judgement\r\nThat he should suffer in no manner wise\r\nConstance within his regne* for to abide                        *kingdom\r\nThree dayes, and a quarter of a tide;\r\n\r\nBut in the same ship as he her fand,\r\nHer and her younge son, and all her gear,\r\nHe shoulde put, and crowd* her from the land,                      *push\r\nAnd charge her, that she never eft come there.\r\nO my Constance, well may thy ghost* have fear,                   *spirit\r\nAnd sleeping in thy dream be in penance,*                 *pain, trouble\r\nWhen Donegild cast* all this ordinance.**        *contrived **plan, plot\r\n\r\nThis messenger, on morrow when he woke,\r\nUnto the castle held the nexte* way,                            *nearest\r\nAnd to the constable the letter took;\r\nAnd when he this dispiteous* letter sey,**                  *cruel **saw\r\nFull oft he said, \u201cAlas, and well-away!\r\nLord Christ,\u201d quoth he, \u201chow may this world endure?\r\nSo full of sin is many a creature.\r\n\r\n\u201cO mighty God, if that it be thy will,\r\nSince thou art rightful judge, how may it be\r\nThat thou wilt suffer innocence to spill,*                 *be destroyed\r\nAnd wicked folk reign in prosperity?\r\nAh! good Constance, alas! so woe is me,\r\nThat I must be thy tormentor, or dey*                               *die\r\nA shameful death, there is no other way.\r\n\r\nWept bothe young and old in all that place,\r\nWhen that the king this cursed letter sent;\r\nAnd Constance, with a deadly pale face,\r\nThe fourthe day toward her ship she went.\r\nBut natheless she took in good intent\r\nThe will of Christ, and kneeling on the strond*           *strand, shore\r\nShe saide, \u201cLord, aye welcome be thy sond*        *whatever thou sendest\r\n\r\n\u201cHe that me kepte from the false blame,\r\nWhile I was in the land amonges you,\r\nHe can me keep from harm and eke from shame\r\nIn the salt sea, although I see not how\r\nAs strong as ever he was, he is yet now,\r\nIn him trust I, and in his mother dere,\r\nThat is to me my sail and eke my stere.\u201d*                 *rudder, guide\r\n\r\nHer little child lay weeping in her arm\r\nAnd, kneeling, piteously to him she said\r\n\u201cPeace, little son, I will do thee no harm:\u201d\r\nWith that her kerchief off her head she braid,*              *took, drew\r\nAnd over his little eyen she it laid,\r\nAnd in her arm she lulled it full fast,\r\nAnd unto heav\u2019n her eyen up she cast.\r\n\r\n\u201cMother,\u201d quoth she, \u201cand maiden bright, Mary,\r\nSooth is, that through a woman\u2019s eggement*        *incitement, egging on\r\nMankind was lorn,* and damned aye to die;                          *lost\r\nFor which thy child was on a cross y-rent:*               *torn, pierced\r\nThy blissful eyen saw all his torment,\r\nThen is there no comparison between\r\nThy woe, and any woe man may sustene.\r\n\r\n\u201cThou saw\u2019st thy child y-slain before thine eyen,\r\nAnd yet now lives my little child, parfay:*                 *by my faith\r\nNow, lady bright, to whom the woeful cryen,\r\nThou glory of womanhood, thou faire may,*                          *maid\r\nThou haven of refuge, bright star of day,\r\nRue* on my child, that of thy gentleness                      *take pity\r\nRuest on every rueful* in distress.                    *sorrowful person\r\n\r\n\u201cO little child, alas! what is thy guilt,\r\nThat never wroughtest sin as yet, pardie?*             *par Dieu; by God\r\nWhy will thine harde* father have thee spilt?**       *cruel **destroyed\r\nO mercy, deare Constable,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cAnd let my little child here dwell with thee:\r\nAnd if thou dar\u2019st not save him from blame,\r\nSo kiss him ones in his father\u2019s name.\u201d\r\n\r\nTherewith she looked backward to the land,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cFarewell, husband rutheless!\u201d\r\nAnd up she rose, and walked down the strand\r\nToward the ship, her following all the press:*                *multitude\r\nAnd ever she pray\u2019d her child to hold his peace,\r\nAnd took her leave, and with an holy intent\r\nShe blessed her, and to the ship she went.\r\n\r\nVictualed was the ship, it is no drede,*                          *doubt\r\nAbundantly for her a full long space:\r\nAnd other necessaries that should need*                       *be needed\r\nShe had enough, heried* be Godde\u2019s grace:                  *praised <15>\r\nFor wind and weather, Almighty God purchase,*                   *provide\r\nAnd bring her home; I can no better say;\r\nBut in the sea she drived forth her way.\r\n\r\nAlla the king came home soon after this\r\nUnto the castle, of the which I told,\r\nAnd asked where his wife and his child is;\r\nThe Constable gan about his heart feel cold,\r\nAnd plainly all the matter he him told\r\nAs ye have heard; I can tell it no better;\r\nAnd shew\u2019d the king his seal, and eke his letter\r\n\r\nAnd saide; \u201cLord, as ye commanded me\r\nOn pain of death, so have I done certain.\u201d\r\nThe messenger tormented* was, till he                          *tortured\r\nMuste beknow,* and tell it flat and plain,                 *confess <16>\r\nFrom night to night in what place he had lain;\r\nAnd thus, by wit and subtle inquiring,\r\nImagin\u2019d was by whom this harm gan spring.\r\n\r\nThe hand was known that had the letter wrote,\r\nAnd all the venom of the cursed deed;\r\nBut in what wise, certainly I know not.\r\nTh\u2019 effect is this, that Alla, *out of drede,*           *without doubt*\r\nHis mother slew, that may men plainly read,\r\nFor that she traitor was to her liegeance:*                  *allegiance\r\nThus ended olde Donegild with mischance.\r\n\r\nThe sorrow that this Alla night and day\r\nMade for his wife, and for his child also,\r\nThere is no tongue that it telle may.\r\nBut now will I again to Constance go,\r\nThat floated in the sea in pain and woe\r\nFive year and more, as liked Christe\u2019s sond,*           *decree, command\r\nEre that her ship approached to the lond.*                         *land\r\n\r\nUnder an heathen castle, at the last,\r\nOf which the name in my text I not find,\r\nConstance and eke her child the sea upcast.\r\nAlmighty God, that saved all mankind,\r\nHave on Constance and on her child some mind,\r\nThat fallen is in heathen hand eftsoon*                           *again\r\n*In point to spill,* as I shall tell you soon!             *in danger of\r\n                                                              perishing*\r\nDown from the castle came there many a wight\r\nTo gauren* on this ship, and on Constance:                  *gaze, stare\r\nBut shortly from the castle, on a night,\r\nThe lorde\u2019s steward, \u2014 God give him mischance, \u2014\r\nA thief that had *renied our creance,*                *denied our faith*\r\nCame to the ship alone, and said he would\r\nHer leman* be, whether she would or n\u2019ould.               *illicit lover\r\n\r\nWoe was this wretched woman then begone;\r\nHer child cri\u2019d, and she cried piteously:\r\nBut blissful Mary help\u2019d her right anon,\r\nFor, with her struggling well and mightily,\r\nThe thief fell overboard all suddenly,\r\nAnd in the sea he drenched* for vengeance,                      *drowned\r\nAnd thus hath Christ unwemmed* kept Constance.              *unblemished\r\n\r\nO foul lust of luxury! lo thine end!\r\nNot only that thou faintest* manne\u2019s mind,                    *weakenest\r\nBut verily thou wilt his body shend.*                           *destroy\r\nTh\u2019 end of thy work, or of thy lustes blind,\r\nIs complaining: how many may men find,\r\nThat not for work, sometimes, but for th\u2019 intent\r\nTo do this sin, be either slain or shent?\r\n\r\nHow may this weake woman have the strength\r\nHer to defend against this renegate?\r\nO Goliath, unmeasurable of length,\r\nHow mighte David make thee so mate?*                         *overthrown\r\nSo young, and of armour so desolate,*                            *devoid\r\nHow durst he look upon thy dreadful face?\r\nWell may men see it was but Godde\u2019s grace.\r\n\r\nWho gave Judith courage or hardiness\r\nTo slay him, Holofernes, in his tent,\r\nAnd to deliver out of wretchedness\r\nThe people of God? I say for this intent\r\nThat right as God spirit of vigour sent\r\nTo them, and saved them out of mischance,\r\nSo sent he might and vigour to Constance.\r\n\r\nForth went her ship throughout the narrow mouth\r\nOf *Jubaltare and Septe,* driving alway,           *Gibraltar and Ceuta*\r\nSometime west, and sometime north and south,\r\nAnd sometime east, full many a weary day:\r\nTill Christe\u2019s mother (blessed be she aye)\r\nHad shaped* through her endeless goodness            *resolved, arranged\r\nTo make an end of all her heaviness.\r\n\r\nNow let us stint* of Constance but a throw,**            *cease speaking\r\nAnd speak we of the Roman emperor,                          **short time\r\nThat out of Syria had by letters know\r\nThe slaughter of Christian folk, and dishonor\r\nDone to his daughter by a false traitor,\r\nI mean the cursed wicked Soudaness,\r\nThat at the feast *let slay both more and less.*       *caused both high\r\n                                                   and low to be killed*\r\nFor which this emperor had sent anon\r\nHis senator, with royal ordinance,\r\nAnd other lordes, God wot, many a one,\r\nOn Syrians to take high vengeance:\r\nThey burn and slay, and bring them to mischance\r\nFull many a day: but shortly this is th\u2019 end,\r\nHomeward to Rome they shaped them to wend.\r\n\r\nThis senator repaired with victory\r\nTo Rome-ward, sailing full royally,\r\nAnd met the ship driving, as saith the story,\r\nIn which Constance sat full piteously:\r\nAnd nothing knew he what she was, nor why\r\nShe was in such array; nor she will say\r\nOf her estate, although that she should dey.*                       *die\r\n\r\nHe brought her unto Rome, and to his wife\r\nHe gave her, and her younge son also:\r\nAnd with the senator she led her life.\r\nThus can our Lady bringen out of woe\r\nWoeful Constance, and many another mo\u2019:\r\nAnd longe time she dwelled in that place,\r\nIn holy works ever, as was her grace.\r\n\r\nThe senatores wife her aunte was,\r\nBut for all that she knew her ne\u2019er the more:\r\nI will no longer tarry in this case,\r\nBut to King Alla, whom I spake of yore,\r\nThat for his wife wept and sighed sore,\r\nI will return, and leave I will Constance\r\nUnder the senatores governance.\r\n\r\nKing Alla, which that had his mother slain,\r\nUpon a day fell in such repentance;\r\nThat, if I shortly tell it shall and plain,\r\nTo Rome he came to receive his penitance,\r\nAnd put him in the Pope\u2019s ordinance\r\nIn high and low, and Jesus Christ besought\r\nForgive his wicked works that he had wrought.\r\n\r\nThe fame anon throughout the town is borne,\r\nHow Alla king shall come on pilgrimage,\r\nBy harbingers that wente him beforn,\r\nFor which the senator, as was usage,\r\nRode *him again,* and many of his lineage,                 *to meet him*\r\nAs well to show his high magnificence,\r\nAs to do any king a reverence.\r\n\r\nGreat cheere* did this noble senator                           *courtesy\r\nTo King Alla and he to him also;\r\nEach of them did the other great honor;\r\nAnd so befell, that in a day or two\r\nThis senator did to King Alla go\r\nTo feast, and shortly, if I shall not lie,\r\nConstance\u2019s son went in his company.\r\n\r\nSome men would say,<17> at request of Constance\r\nThis senator had led this child to feast:\r\nI may not tellen every circumstance,\r\nBe as be may, there was he at the least:\r\nBut sooth is this, that at his mother\u2019s hest*                    *behest\r\nBefore Alla during *the meates space,*                       *meal time*\r\nThe child stood, looking in the kinges face.\r\n\r\nThis Alla king had of this child great wonder,\r\nAnd to the senator he said anon,\r\n\u201cWhose is that faire child that standeth yonder?\u201d\r\n\u201cI n\u2019ot,\u201d* quoth he, \u201cby God and by Saint John;                *know not\r\nA mother he hath, but father hath he none,\r\nThat I of wot:\u201d and shortly in a stound*                *short time <18>\r\nHe told to Alla how this child was found.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut God wot,\u201d quoth this senator also,\r\n\u201cSo virtuous a liver in all my life\r\nI never saw, as she, nor heard of mo\u2019\r\nOf worldly woman, maiden, widow or wife:\r\nI dare well say she hadde lever* a knife                         *rather\r\nThroughout her breast, than be a woman wick\u2019,*                   *wicked\r\nThere is no man could bring her to that prick.*                   *point\r\n\r\nNow was this child as like unto Constance\r\nAs possible is a creature to be:\r\nThis Alla had the face in remembrance\r\nOf Dame Constance, and thereon mused he,\r\nIf that the childe\u2019s mother *were aught she*              *could be she*\r\nThat was his wife; and privily he sight,*                        *sighed\r\nAnd sped him from the table *that he might.*       *as fast as he could*\r\n\r\n\u201cParfay,\u201d* thought he, \u201cphantom** is in mine head.          *by my faith\r\nI ought to deem, of skilful judgement,                       **a fantasy\r\nThat in the salte sea my wife is dead.\u201d\r\nAnd afterward he made his argument,\r\n\u201cWhat wot I, if that Christ have hither sent\r\nMy wife by sea, as well as he her sent\r\nTo my country, from thennes that she went?\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd, after noon, home with the senator.\r\nWent Alla, for to see this wondrous chance.\r\nThis senator did Alla great honor,\r\nAnd hastily he sent after Constance:\r\nBut truste well, her liste not to dance.\r\nWhen that she wiste wherefore was that sond,*                   *summons\r\nUnneth* upon her feet she mighte stand.                 *with difficulty\r\n\r\nWhen Alla saw his wife, fair he her gret,*                      *greeted\r\nAnd wept, that it was ruthe for to see,\r\nFor at the firste look he on her set\r\nHe knew well verily that it was she:\r\nAnd she, for sorrow, as dumb stood as a tree:\r\nSo was her hearte shut in her distress,\r\nWhen she remember\u2019d his unkindeness.\r\n\r\nTwice she swooned in his owen sight,\r\nHe wept and him excused piteously:\r\n\u201cNow God,\u201d quoth he, \u201cand all his hallows bright*                *saints\r\nSo wisly* on my soule have mercy,                                *surely\r\nThat of your harm as guilteless am I,\r\nAs is Maurice my son, so like your face,\r\nElse may the fiend me fetch out of this place.\u201d\r\n\r\nLong was the sobbing and the bitter pain,\r\nEre that their woeful heartes mighte cease;\r\nGreat was the pity for to hear them plain,*                      *lament\r\nThrough whiche plaintes gan their woe increase.\r\nI pray you all my labour to release,\r\nI may not tell all their woe till to-morrow,\r\nI am so weary for to speak of sorrow.\r\n\r\nBut finally, when that the *sooth is wist,*             *truth is known*\r\nThat Alla guiltless was of all her woe,\r\nI trow an hundred times have they kiss\u2019d,\r\nAnd such a bliss is there betwixt them two,\r\nThat, save the joy that lasteth evermo\u2019,\r\nThere is none like, that any creature\r\nHath seen, or shall see, while the world may dure.\r\n\r\nThen prayed she her husband meekely\r\nIn the relief of her long piteous pine,*                         *sorrow\r\nThat he would pray her father specially,\r\nThat of his majesty he would incline\r\nTo vouchesafe some day with him to dine:\r\nShe pray\u2019d him eke, that he should by no way\r\nUnto her father no word of her say.\r\n\r\nSome men would say,<17> how that the child Maurice\r\nDid this message unto the emperor:\r\nBut, as I guess, Alla was not so nice,*                         *foolish\r\nTo him that is so sovereign of honor\r\nAs he that is of Christian folk the flow\u2019r,\r\nSend any child, but better \u2019tis to deem\r\nHe went himself; and so it may well seem.\r\n\r\nThis emperor hath granted gentilly\r\nTo come to dinner, as he him besought:\r\nAnd well rede* I, he looked busily                          *guess, know\r\nUpon this child, and on his daughter thought.\r\nAlla went to his inn, and as him ought\r\nArrayed* for this feast in every wise,                         *prepared\r\n*As farforth as his cunning* may suffice.          *as far as his skill*\r\n\r\nThe morrow came, and Alla gan him dress,*                    *make ready\r\nAnd eke his wife, the emperor to meet:\r\nAnd forth they rode in joy and in gladness,\r\nAnd when she saw her father in the street,\r\nShe lighted down and fell before his feet.\r\n\u201cFather,\u201d quoth she, \u201cyour younge child Constance\r\nIs now full clean out of your remembrance.\r\n\r\n\u201cI am your daughter, your Constance,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cThat whilom ye have sent into Syrie;\r\nIt am I, father, that in the salt sea\r\nWas put alone, and damned* for to die.                        *condemned\r\nNow, goode father, I you mercy cry,\r\nSend me no more into none heatheness,\r\nBut thank my lord here of his kindeness.\u201d\r\n\r\nWho can the piteous joye tellen all,\r\nBetwixt them three, since they be thus y-met?\r\nBut of my tale make an end I shall,\r\nThe day goes fast, I will no longer let.*                        *hinder\r\nThese gladde folk to dinner be y-set;\r\nIn joy and bliss at meat I let them dwell,\r\nA thousand fold well more than I can tell.\r\n\r\nThis child Maurice was since then emperor\r\nMade by the Pope, and lived Christianly,\r\nTo Christe\u2019s Churche did he great honor:\r\nBut I let all his story passe by,\r\nOf Constance is my tale especially,\r\nIn the olde Roman gestes* men may find                    *histories<19>\r\nMaurice\u2019s life, I bear it not in mind.\r\n\r\nThis King Alla, when he his time sey,*                              *saw\r\nWith his Constance, his holy wife so sweet,\r\nTo England are they come the righte way,\r\nWhere they did live in joy and in quiet.\r\nBut little while it lasted, I you hete,*                        *promise\r\nJoy of this world for time will not abide,\r\nFrom day to night it changeth as the tide.\r\n\r\nWho liv\u2019d ever in such delight one day,\r\nThat him not moved either conscience,\r\nOr ire, or talent, or *some kind affray,*     *some kind of disturbance*\r\nEnvy, or pride, or passion, or offence?\r\nI say but for this ende this sentence,*              *judgment, opinion*\r\nThat little while in joy or in pleasance\r\nLasted the bliss of Alla with Constance.\r\n\r\nFor death, that takes of high and low his rent,\r\nWhen passed was a year, even as I guess,\r\nOut of this world this King Alla he hent,*                     *snatched\r\nFor whom Constance had full great heaviness.\r\nNow let us pray that God his soule bless:\r\nAnd Dame Constance, finally to say,\r\nToward the town of Rome went her way.\r\n\r\nTo Rome is come this holy creature,\r\nAnd findeth there her friendes whole and sound:\r\nNow is she scaped all her aventure:\r\nAnd when that she her father hath y-found,\r\nDown on her knees falleth she to ground,\r\nWeeping for tenderness in hearte blithe\r\nShe herieth* God an hundred thousand sithe.**           *praises **times\r\n\r\nIn virtue and in holy almes-deed\r\nThey liven all, and ne\u2019er asunder wend;\r\nTill death departeth them, this life they lead:\r\nAnd fare now well, my tale is at an end\r\nNow Jesus Christ, that of his might may send\r\nJoy after woe, govern us in his grace\r\nAnd keep us alle that be in this place.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Man of Law\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. This tale is believed by Tyrwhitt to have been taken, with no\r\nmaterial change, from the \u201cConfessio Amantis\u201d of John Gower,\r\nwho was contemporary with Chaucer, though somewhat his\r\nsenior.  In the prologue, the references to the stories of Canace,\r\nand of Apollonius Tyrius, seem to be an attack on Gower, who\r\nhad given these tales in his book; whence Tyrwhitt concludes\r\nthat the friendship between the two poets suffered some\r\ninterruption in the latter part of their lives.  Gower was not the\r\ninventor of the story, which he found in old French romances,\r\nand it is not improbable that Chaucer may have gone to the\r\nsame source as Gower, though the latter undoubtedly led the\r\nway.\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: later commentators have identified the\r\nintroduction describing the sorrows of poverty, along with the\r\nother moralising interludes in the tale, as translated from \u201cDe\r\nContemptu Mundi\u201d (\u201cOn the contempt of the world\u201d) by Pope\r\nInnocent.)\r\n\r\n2. Transcriber\u2019 note: This refers to the game of hazard, a dice\r\ngame like craps, in which two  (\u201cambes ace\u201d) won,  and eleven\r\n(\u201csix-cinque\u201d) lost.\r\n\r\n3. Purpose: discourse, tale: French \u201cpropos\u201d.\r\n\r\n4. \u201cPeace\u201d rhymed with \u201clese\u201d and \u201cchese\u201d, the old forms of\r\n\u201close\u201d and \u201cchoose\u201d.\r\n\r\n5. According to Middle Age writers there were two motions of\r\nthe first heaven; one everything always from east to west above\r\nthe stars; the other moving the stars against the first motion,\r\nfrom west to east, on two other poles.\r\n\r\n6. Atyzar: the meaning of this word is not known; but \u201coccifer\u201d,\r\nmurderer, has been suggested instead by Urry, on the authority\r\nof a marginal reading on a manuscript.\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: later commentators explain it as derived\r\nfrom Arabic \u201cal-ta\u2019thir\u201d, influence - used here in an astrological\r\nsense)\r\n\r\n7. \u201cThou knittest thee where thou art not receiv\u2019d,\r\nWhere thou wert well, from thennes art thou weiv\u2019d\u201d\r\ni.e.\r\n\u201cThou joinest thyself where thou art rejected, and art declined\r\nor departed from the place where thou wert well.\u201d  The moon\r\nportends the fortunes of Constance.\r\n\r\n8. Fand: endeavour; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cfandian,\u201d to try\r\n\r\n9. Feng: take; Anglo-Saxon \u201cfengian\u201d, German, \u201cfangen\u201d.\r\n\r\n10. Him and her on which thy limbes faithfully extend: those\r\nwho in faith wear the crucifix.\r\n\r\n11. The four spirits of tempest: the four angels who held the\r\nfour winds of the earth and to whom it was given to hurt the\r\nearth and the sea (Rev. vii. 1, 2).\r\n\r\n12. Thennes would it not in all a tide: thence would it not move\r\nfor long, at all.\r\n\r\n13. A manner Latin corrupt: a kind of bastard Latin.\r\n\r\n14. Knave child: male child; German \u201cKnabe\u201d.\r\n\r\n15. Heried: honoured, praised; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cherian.\u201d\r\nCompare German, \u201cherrlich,\u201d glorious, honourable.\r\n\r\n16. Beknow:  confess; German, \u201cbekennen.\u201d\r\n\r\n17. The poet here refers to Gower\u2019s version of the story.\r\n\r\n18. Stound: short time; German, \u201cstunde\u201d, hour.\r\n\r\n19. Gestes: histories, exploits; Latin, \u201cres gestae\u201d.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE WIFE OF BATH\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE. <1>\r\n\r\nExperience, though none authority*                  *authoritative texts\r\nWere in this world, is right enough for me\r\nTo speak of woe that is in marriage:\r\nFor, lordings, since I twelve year was of age,\r\n(Thanked be God that *is etern on live),*              *lives eternally*\r\nHusbands at the church door have I had five,<2>\r\nFor I so often have y-wedded be,\r\nAnd all were worthy men in their degree.\r\nBut me was told, not longe time gone is\r\nThat sithen* Christe went never but ones                          *since\r\nTo wedding, in the Cane* of Galilee,                               *Cana\r\nThat by that ilk* example taught he me,                            *same\r\nThat I not wedded shoulde be but once.\r\nLo, hearken eke a sharp word for the nonce,*                   *occasion\r\nBeside a welle Jesus, God and man,\r\nSpake in reproof of the Samaritan:\r\n\u201cThou hast y-had five husbandes,\u201d said he;\r\n\u201cAnd thilke* man, that now hath wedded thee,                       *that\r\nIs not thine husband:\u201d <3> thus said he certain;\r\nWhat that he meant thereby, I cannot sayn.\r\nBut that I aske, why the fifthe man\r\nWas not husband to the Samaritan?\r\nHow many might she have in marriage?\r\nYet heard I never tellen *in mine age*                      *in my life*\r\nUpon this number definitioun.\r\nMen may divine, and glosen* up and down;                        *comment\r\nBut well I wot, express without a lie,\r\nGod bade us for to wax and multiply;\r\nThat gentle text can I well understand.\r\nEke well I wot, he said, that mine husband\r\nShould leave father and mother, and take to me;\r\nBut of no number mention made he,\r\nOf bigamy or of octogamy;\r\nWhy then should men speak of it villainy?*     *as if it were a disgrace\r\n\r\nLo here, the wise king Dan* Solomon,                           *Lord <4>\r\nI trow that he had wives more than one;\r\nAs would to God it lawful were to me\r\nTo be refreshed half so oft as he!\r\nWhat gift* of God had he for all his wives?     *special favour, licence\r\nNo man hath such, that in this world alive is.\r\nGod wot, this noble king, *as to my wit,*              *as I understand*\r\nThe first night had many a merry fit\r\nWith each of them, so *well was him on live.*         *so well he lived*\r\nBlessed be God that I have wedded five!\r\nWelcome the sixth whenever that he shall.\r\nFor since I will not keep me chaste in all,\r\nWhen mine husband is from the world y-gone,\r\nSome Christian man shall wedde me anon.\r\nFor then th\u2019 apostle saith that I am free\r\nTo wed, *a\u2019 God\u2019s half,* where it liketh me.             *on God\u2019s part*\r\nHe saith, that to be wedded is no sin;\r\nBetter is to be wedded than to brin.*                              *burn\r\nWhat recketh* me though folk say villainy**                 *care **evil\r\nOf shrewed* Lamech, and his bigamy?                     *impious, wicked\r\nI wot well Abraham was a holy man,\r\nAnd Jacob eke, as far as ev\u2019r I can.*                              *know\r\nAnd each of them had wives more than two;\r\nAnd many another holy man also.\r\nWhere can ye see, *in any manner age,*                   *in any period*\r\nThat highe God defended* marriage                           *forbade <5>\r\nBy word express? I pray you tell it me;\r\nOr where commanded he virginity?\r\nI wot as well as you, it is no dread,*                            *doubt\r\nTh\u2019 apostle, when he spake of maidenhead,\r\nHe said, that precept thereof had he none:\r\nMen may counsel a woman to be one,*                              *a maid\r\nBut counseling is no commandement;\r\nHe put it in our owen judgement.\r\nFor, hadde God commanded maidenhead,\r\nThen had he damned* wedding out of dread;**           *condemned **doubt\r\nAnd certes, if there were no seed y-sow,*                          *sown\r\nVirginity then whereof should it grow?\r\nPaul durste not commanden, at the least,\r\nA thing of which his Master gave no hest.*                      *command\r\nThe dart* is set up for virginity;                             *goal <6>\r\nCatch whoso may, who runneth best let see.\r\nBut this word is not ta\u2019en of every wight,\r\n*But there as* God will give it of his might.             *except where*\r\nI wot well that th\u2019 apostle was a maid,\r\nBut natheless, although he wrote and said,\r\nHe would that every wight were such as he,\r\nAll is but counsel to virginity.\r\nAnd, since to be a wife he gave me leave\r\nOf indulgence, so is it no repreve*                   *scandal, reproach\r\nTo wedde me, if that my make* should die,                 *mate, husband\r\nWithout exception* of bigamy;                          *charge, reproach\r\n*All were it* good no woman for to touch            *though it might be*\r\n(He meant as in his bed or in his couch),\r\nFor peril is both fire and tow t\u2019assemble\r\nYe know what this example may resemble.\r\nThis is all and some, he held virginity\r\nMore profit than wedding in frailty:\r\n(*Frailty clepe I, but if* that he and she           *frailty I call it,\r\nWould lead their lives all in chastity),                         unless*\r\nI grant it well, I have of none envy\r\nWho maidenhead prefer to bigamy;\r\nIt liketh them t\u2019 be clean in body and ghost;*                     *soul\r\nOf mine estate* I will not make a boast.                      *condition\r\n\r\nFor, well ye know, a lord in his household\r\nHath not every vessel all of gold; <7>\r\nSome are of tree, and do their lord service.\r\nGod calleth folk to him in sundry wise,\r\nAnd each one hath of God a proper gift,\r\nSome this, some that, as liketh him to shift.*      *appoint, distribute\r\nVirginity is great perfection,\r\nAnd continence eke with devotion:\r\nBut Christ, that of perfection is the well,*                   *fountain\r\nBade not every wight he should go sell\r\nAll that he had, and give it to the poor,\r\nAnd in such wise follow him and his lore:*                     *doctrine\r\nHe spake to them that would live perfectly, \u2014\r\nAnd, lordings, by your leave, that am not I;\r\nI will bestow the flower of mine age\r\nIn th\u2019 acts and in the fruits of marriage.\r\nTell me also, to what conclusion*                          *end, purpose\r\nWere members made of generation,\r\nAnd of so perfect wise a wight* y-wrought?                        *being\r\nTrust me right well, they were not made for nought.\r\nGlose whoso will, and say both up and down,\r\nThat they were made for the purgatioun\r\nOf urine, and of other thinges smale,\r\nAnd eke to know a female from a male:\r\nAnd for none other cause? say ye no?\r\nExperience wot well it is not so.\r\nSo that the clerkes* be not with me wroth,                     *scholars\r\nI say this, that they were made for both,\r\nThat is to say, *for office, and for ease*                 *for duty and\r\nOf engendrure, there we God not displease.                 for pleasure*\r\nWhy should men elles in their bookes set,\r\nThat man shall yield unto his wife her debt?\r\nNow wherewith should he make his payement,\r\nIf he us\u2019d not his silly instrument?\r\nThen were they made upon a creature\r\nTo purge urine, and eke for engendrure.\r\nBut I say not that every wight is hold,*                        *obliged\r\nThat hath such harness* as I to you told,                     *equipment\r\nTo go and use them in engendrure;\r\nThen should men take of chastity no cure.*                         *care\r\nChrist was a maid, and shapen* as a man,                      *fashioned\r\nAnd many a saint, since that this world began,\r\nYet ever liv\u2019d in perfect chastity.\r\nI will not vie* with no virginity.                              *contend\r\nLet them with bread of pured* wheat be fed,                    *purified\r\nAnd let us wives eat our barley bread.\r\nAnd yet with barley bread, Mark tell us can,<8>\r\nOur Lord Jesus refreshed many a man.\r\nIn such estate as God hath *cleped us,*                    *called us to\r\nI\u2019ll persevere, I am not precious,*                         *over-dainty\r\nIn wifehood I will use mine instrument\r\nAs freely as my Maker hath it sent.\r\nIf I be dangerous* God give me sorrow;            *sparing of my favours\r\nMine husband shall it have, both eve and morrow,\r\nWhen that him list come forth and pay his debt.\r\nA husband will I have, I *will no let,*         *will bear no hindrance*\r\nWhich shall be both my debtor and my thrall,*                     *slave\r\nAnd have his tribulation withal\r\nUpon his flesh, while that I am his wife.\r\nI have the power during all my life\r\nUpon his proper body, and not he;\r\nRight thus th\u2019 apostle told it unto me,\r\nAnd bade our husbands for to love us well;\r\nAll this sentence me liketh every deal.*                           *whit\r\n\r\nUp start the Pardoner, and that anon;\r\n\u201cNow, Dame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cby God and by Saint John,\r\nYe are a noble preacher in this case.\r\nI was about to wed a wife, alas!\r\nWhat? should I bie* it on my flesh so dear?                  *suffer for\r\nYet had I lever* wed no wife this year.\u201d                         *rather\r\n\u201cAbide,\u201d* quoth she; \u201cmy tale is not begun             *wait in patience\r\nNay, thou shalt drinken of another tun\r\nEre that I go, shall savour worse than ale.\r\nAnd when that I have told thee forth my tale\r\nOf tribulation in marriage,\r\nOf which I am expert in all mine age,\r\n(This is to say, myself hath been the whip),\r\nThen mayest thou choose whether thou wilt sip\r\nOf *thilke tunne,* that I now shall broach.                   *that tun*\r\nBeware of it, ere thou too nigh approach,\r\nFor I shall tell examples more than ten:\r\nWhoso will not beware by other men,\r\nBy him shall other men corrected be:\r\nThese same wordes writeth Ptolemy;\r\nRead in his Almagest, and take it there.\u201d\r\n\u201cDame, I would pray you, if your will it were,\u201d\r\nSaide this Pardoner, \u201cas ye began,\r\nTell forth your tale, and spare for no man,\r\nAnd teach us younge men of your practique.\u201d\r\n\u201cGladly,\u201d quoth she, \u201csince that it may you like.\r\nBut that I pray to all this company,\r\nIf that I speak after my fantasy,\r\nTo take nought agrief* what I may say;                         *to heart\r\nFor mine intent is only for to play.\r\n\r\nNow, Sirs, then will I tell you forth my tale.\r\nAs ever may I drinke wine or ale\r\nI shall say sooth; the husbands that I had\r\nThree of them were good, and two were bad\r\nThe three were goode men, and rich, and old\r\n*Unnethes mighte they the statute hold*      *they could with difficulty\r\nIn which that they were bounden unto me.                   obey the law*\r\nYet wot well what I mean of this, pardie.*                       *by God\r\nAs God me help, I laugh when that I think\r\nHow piteously at night I made them swink,*                       *labour\r\nBut, *by my fay, I told of it no store:*         *by my faith, I held it\r\nThey had me giv\u2019n their land and their treasor,           of no account*\r\nMe needed not do longer diligence\r\nTo win their love, or do them reverence.\r\nThey loved me so well, by God above,\r\nThat I *tolde no dainty* of their love.              *cared nothing for*\r\nA wise woman will busy her ever-in-one*                      *constantly\r\nTo get their love, where that she hath none.\r\nBut, since I had them wholly in my hand,\r\nAnd that they had me given all their land,\r\nWhy should I take keep* them for to please,                        *care\r\nBut* it were for my profit, or mine ease?                        *unless\r\nI set them so a-worke, by my fay,\r\nThat many a night they sange, well-away!\r\nThe bacon was not fetched for them, I trow,\r\nThat some men have in Essex at Dunmow.<9>\r\nI govern\u2019d them so well after my law,\r\nThat each of them full blissful was and fawe*                      *fain\r\nTo bringe me gay thinges from the fair.\r\nThey were full glad when that I spake them fair,\r\nFor, God it wot, I *chid them spiteously.*        *rebuked them angrily*\r\nNow hearken how I bare me properly.\r\n\r\nYe wise wives, that can understand,\r\nThus should ye speak, and *bear them wrong on hand,*          *make them\r\nFor half so boldely can there no man                    believe falsely*\r\nSwearen and lien as a woman can.\r\n(I say not this by wives that be wise,\r\n*But if* it be when they them misadvise.)*     *unless* *act unadvisedly\r\nA wise wife, if that she can* her good,                           *knows\r\nShall *beare them on hand* the cow is wood,          *make them believe*\r\nAnd take witness of her owen maid\r\nOf their assent: but hearken how I said.\r\n\u201cSir olde  kaynard,<10> is this thine array?\r\nWhy is my neigheboure\u2019s wife so gay?\r\nShe is honour\u2019d *over all where* she go\u2019th,                 *wheresoever\r\nI sit at home, I have no *thrifty cloth.*                 *good clothes*\r\nWhat dost thou at my neigheboure\u2019s house?\r\nIs she so fair? art thou so amorous?\r\nWhat rown\u2019st* thou with our maid? benedicite,                *whisperest\r\nSir olde lechour, let thy japes* be.                             *tricks\r\nAnd if I have a gossip, or a friend\r\n(Withoute guilt), thou chidest as a fiend,\r\nIf that I walk or play unto his house.\r\nThou comest home as drunken as a mouse,\r\nAnd preachest on thy bench, with evil prefe:*                     *proof\r\nThou say\u2019st to me, it is a great mischief\r\nTo wed a poore woman, for costage:*                             *expense\r\nAnd if that she be rich, of high parage;*                   * birth <11>\r\nThen say\u2019st thou, that it is a tormentry\r\nTo suffer her pride and melancholy.\r\nAnd if that she be fair, thou very knave,\r\nThou say\u2019st that every holour* will her have;               *whoremonger\r\nShe may no while in chastity abide,\r\nThat is assailed upon every side.\r\nThou say\u2019st some folk desire us for richess,\r\nSome for our shape, and some for our fairness,\r\nAnd some, for she can either sing or dance,\r\nAnd some for gentiless and dalliance,\r\nSome for her handes and her armes smale:\r\nThus goes all to the devil, by thy tale;\r\nThou say\u2019st, men may not keep a castle wall\r\nThat may be so assailed *over all.*                         *everywhere*\r\nAnd if that she be foul, thou say\u2019st that she\r\nCoveteth every man that she may see;\r\nFor as a spaniel she will on him leap,\r\nTill she may finde some man her to cheap;*                          *buy\r\nAnd none so grey goose goes there in the lake,\r\n(So say\u2019st thou) that will be without a make.*                     *mate\r\nAnd say\u2019st, it is a hard thing for to weld                *wield, govern\r\nA thing that no man will, *his thankes, held.*  *hold with his goodwill*\r\nThus say\u2019st thou, lorel,* when thou go\u2019st to bed,      *good-for-nothing\r\nAnd that no wise man needeth for to wed,\r\nNor no man that intendeth unto heaven.\r\nWith wilde thunder dint* and fiery leven**          * stroke **lightning\r\nMote* thy wicked necke be to-broke.                                 *may\r\nThou say\u2019st, that dropping houses, and eke smoke,\r\nAnd chiding wives, make men to flee\r\nOut of their owne house; ah! ben\u2019dicite,\r\nWhat aileth such an old man for to chide?\r\nThou say\u2019st, we wives will our vices hide,\r\nTill we be fast,* and then we will them shew.                    *wedded\r\nWell may that be a proverb of a shrew.*             *ill-tempered wretch\r\nThou say\u2019st, that oxen, asses, horses, hounds,\r\nThey be *assayed at diverse stounds,*                 *tested at various\r\nBasons and lavers, ere that men them buy,                        seasons\r\nSpoones, stooles, and all such husbandry,\r\nAnd so be pots, and clothes, and array,*                        *raiment\r\nBut folk of wives make none assay,\r\nTill they be wedded, \u2014 olde dotard shrew! \u2014\r\nAnd then, say\u2019st thou, we will our vices shew.\r\nThou say\u2019st also, that it displeaseth me,\r\nBut if * that thou wilt praise my beauty,                        *unless\r\nAnd but* thou pore alway upon my face,                           *unless\r\nAnd call me faire dame in every place;\r\nAnd but* thou make a feast on thilke** day                *unless **that\r\nThat I was born, and make me fresh and gay;\r\nAnd but thou do to my norice* honour,                        *nurse <12>\r\nAnd to my chamberere* within my bow\u2019r,                     *chamber-maid\r\nAnd to my father\u2019s folk, and mine allies;*                    *relations\r\nThus sayest thou, old barrel full of lies.\r\nAnd yet also of our prentice Jenkin,\r\nFor his crisp hair, shining as gold so fine,\r\nAnd for he squireth me both up and down,\r\nYet hast thou caught a false suspicioun:\r\nI will him not, though thou wert dead to-morrow.\r\nBut tell me this, why hidest thou, *with sorrow,*      *sorrow on thee!*\r\nThe keyes of thy chest away from me?\r\nIt is my good* as well as thine, pardie.                       *property\r\nWhat, think\u2019st to make an idiot of our dame?\r\nNow, by that lord that called is Saint Jame,\r\nThou shalt not both, although that thou wert wood,*             *furious\r\nBe master of my body, and my good,*                            *property\r\nThe one thou shalt forego, maugre* thine eyen.              *in spite of\r\nWhat helpeth it of me t\u2019inquire and spyen?\r\nI trow thou wouldest lock me in thy chest.\r\nThou shouldest say, \u2018Fair wife, go where thee lest;\r\nTake your disport; I will believe no tales;\r\nI know you for a true wife, Dame Ales.\u2019*                          *Alice\r\nWe love no man, that taketh keep* or charge                        *care\r\nWhere that we go; we will be at our large.\r\nOf alle men most blessed may he be,\r\nThe wise astrologer Dan* Ptolemy,                                  *Lord\r\nThat saith this proverb in his Almagest:<13>\r\n\u2018Of alle men his wisdom is highest,\r\nThat recketh not who hath the world in hand.\r\nBy this proverb thou shalt well understand,\r\nHave thou enough, what thar* thee reck or care           *needs, behoves\r\nHow merrily that other folkes fare?\r\nFor certes, olde dotard, by your leave,\r\nYe shall have [pleasure] <14> right enough at eve.\r\nHe is too great a niggard that will werne*                       *forbid\r\nA man to light a candle at his lantern;\r\nHe shall have never the less light, pardie.\r\nHave thou enough, thee thar* not plaine** thee          *need **complain\r\nThou say\u2019st also, if that we make us gay\r\nWith clothing and with precious array,\r\nThat it is peril of our chastity.\r\nAnd yet, \u2014 with sorrow! \u2014 thou enforcest thee,\r\nAnd say\u2019st these words in the apostle\u2019s name:\r\n\u2018In habit made with chastity and shame*                         *modesty\r\nYe women shall apparel you,\u2019 quoth he,<15>\r\n\u2018And not in tressed hair and gay perrie,*                        *jewels\r\nAs pearles, nor with gold, nor clothes rich.\u2019\r\nAfter thy text nor after thy rubrich\r\nI will not work as muchel as a gnat.\r\nThou say\u2019st also, I walk out like a cat;\r\nFor whoso woulde singe the catte\u2019s skin\r\nThen will the catte well dwell in her inn;*                       *house\r\nAnd if the catte\u2019s skin be sleek and gay,\r\nShe will not dwell in house half a day,\r\nBut forth she will, ere any day be daw\u2019d,\r\nTo shew her skin, and go a caterwaw\u2019d.*                    *caterwauling\r\nThis is to say, if I be gay, sir shrew,\r\nI will run out, my borel* for to shew.            *apparel, fine clothes\r\nSir olde fool, what helpeth thee to spyen?\r\nThough thou pray Argus with his hundred eyen\r\nTo be my wardecorps,* as he can best                         *body-guard\r\nIn faith he shall not keep me, *but me lest:*          *unless I please*\r\nYet could I *make his beard,* so may I the.         *make a jest of him*\r\n\r\n\u201cThou sayest eke, that there be thinges three,                   *thrive\r\nWhich thinges greatly trouble all this earth,\r\nAnd that no wighte may endure the ferth:*                        *fourth\r\nO lefe* sir shrew, may Jesus short** thy life.       *pleasant **shorten\r\nYet preachest thou, and say\u2019st, a hateful wife\r\nY-reckon\u2019d is for one of these mischances.\r\nBe there *none other manner resemblances*              *no other kind of\r\nThat ye may liken your parables unto,                        comparison*\r\nBut if a silly wife be one of tho?*                               *those\r\nThou likenest a woman\u2019s love to hell;\r\nTo barren land where water may not dwell.\r\nThou likenest it also to wild fire;\r\nThe more it burns, the more it hath desire\r\nTo consume every thing that burnt will be.\r\nThou sayest, right as wormes shend* a tree,                     *destroy\r\nRight so a wife destroyeth her husbond;\r\nThis know they well that be to wives bond.\u201d\r\n\r\nLordings, right thus, as ye have understand,\r\n*Bare I stiffly mine old husbands on hand,*          *made them believe*\r\nThat thus they saiden in their drunkenness;\r\nAnd all was false, but that I took witness\r\nOn Jenkin, and upon my niece also.\r\nO Lord! the pain I did them, and the woe,\r\n\u2018Full guilteless, by Godde\u2019s sweete pine;*                         *pain\r\nFor as a horse I coulde bite and whine;\r\nI coulde plain,* an\u2019** I was in the guilt,       *complain **even though\r\nOr elles oftentime I had been spilt*                             *ruined\r\nWhoso first cometh to the nilll, first grint;*                *is ground\r\nI plained first, so was our war y-stint.*                       *stopped\r\nThey were full glad to excuse them full blive*                  *quickly\r\nOf things that they never *aguilt their live.*     *were guilty in their\r\n                                                                  lives*\r\nOf wenches would I *beare them on hand,*           *falsely accuse them*\r\nWhen that for sickness scarcely might they stand,\r\nYet tickled I his hearte for that he\r\nWeen\u2019d* that I had of him so great cherte:**     *though **affection<16>\r\nI swore that all my walking out by night\r\nWas for to espy wenches that he dight:*                         *adorned\r\nUnder that colour had I many a mirth.\r\nFor all such wit is given us at birth;\r\nDeceit, weeping, and spinning, God doth give\r\nTo women kindly, while that they may live.                    *naturally\r\nAnd thus of one thing I may vaunte me,\r\nAt th\u2019 end I had the better in each degree,\r\nBy sleight, or force, or by some manner thing,\r\nAs by continual murmur or grudging,*                        *complaining\r\nNamely* a-bed, there hadde they mischance,                   *especially\r\nThere would I chide, and do them no pleasance:\r\nI would no longer in the bed abide,\r\nIf that I felt his arm over my side,\r\nTill he had made his ransom unto me,\r\nThen would I suffer him do his nicety.*                      *folly <17>\r\nAnd therefore every man this tale I tell,\r\nWin whoso may, for all is for to sell;\r\nWith empty hand men may no hawkes lure;\r\nFor winning would I all his will endure,\r\nAnd make me a feigned appetite,\r\nAnd yet in bacon* had I never delight:               *i.e. of Dunmow <9>\r\nThat made me that I ever would them chide.\r\nFor, though the Pope had sitten them beside,\r\nI would not spare them at their owen board,\r\nFor, by my troth, I quit* them word for word                     *repaid\r\nAs help me very God omnipotent,\r\nThough I right now should make my testament\r\nI owe them not a word, that is not quit*                         *repaid\r\nI brought it so aboute by my wit,\r\nThat they must give it up, as for the best\r\nOr elles had we never been in rest.\r\nFor, though he looked as a wood* lion,                          *furious\r\nYet should he fail of his conclusion.\r\nThen would I say, \u201cNow, goode lefe* tak keep**              *dear **heed\r\nHow meekly looketh Wilken oure sheep!\r\nCome near, my spouse, and let me ba* thy cheek                *kiss <18>\r\nYe shoulde be all patient and meek,\r\nAnd have a *sweet y-spiced* conscience,                   *tender, nice*\r\nSince ye so preach of Jobe\u2019s patience.\r\nSuffer alway, since ye so well can preach,\r\nAnd but* ye do, certain we shall you teach*                      *unless\r\nThat it is fair to have a wife in peace.\r\nOne of us two must bowe* doubteless:                           *give way\r\nAnd since a man is more reasonable\r\nThan woman is, ye must be suff\u2019rable.\r\nWhat aileth you to grudge* thus and groan?                     *complain\r\nIs it for ye would have my [love] <14> alone?\r\nWhy, take it all: lo, have it every deal,*                         *whit\r\nPeter! <19> shrew* you but ye love it well                        *curse\r\nFor if I woulde sell my *belle chose*,                 *beautiful thing*\r\nI coulde walk as fresh as is a rose,\r\nBut I will keep it for your owen tooth.\r\nYe be to blame, by God, I say you sooth.\u201d\r\nSuch manner wordes hadde we on hand.\r\n\r\nNow will I speaken of my fourth husband.\r\nMy fourthe husband was a revellour;\r\nThis is to say, he had a paramour,\r\nAnd I was young and full of ragerie,*                        *wantonness\r\nStubborn and strong, and jolly as a pie.*                        *magpie\r\nThen could I dance to a harpe smale,\r\nAnd sing, y-wis,* as any nightingale,                         *certainly\r\nWhen I had drunk a draught of sweete wine.\r\nMetellius, the foule churl, the swine,\r\nThat with a staff bereft his wife of life\r\nFor she drank wine, though I had been his wife,\r\nNever should he have daunted me from drink:\r\nAnd, after wine, of Venus most I think.\r\nFor all so sure as cold engenders hail,\r\nA liquorish mouth must have a liquorish tail.\r\nIn woman vinolent* is no defence,**            *full of wine *resistance\r\nThis knowe lechours by experience.\r\nBut, lord Christ, when that it rememb\u2019reth me\r\nUpon my youth, and on my jollity,\r\nIt tickleth me about mine hearte-root;\r\nUnto this day it doth mine hearte boot,*                           *good\r\nThat I have had my world as in my time.\r\nBut age, alas! that all will envenime,*                *poison, embitter\r\nHath me bereft my beauty and my pith:*                           *vigour\r\nLet go; farewell; the devil go therewith.\r\nThe flour is gon, there is no more to tell,\r\nThe bran, as I best may, now must I sell.\r\nBut yet to be right merry will I fand.*                             *try\r\nNow forth to tell you of my fourth husband,\r\nI say, I in my heart had great despite,\r\nThat he of any other had delight;\r\nBut he was quit,* by God and by Saint Joce:<21>     *requited, paid back\r\nI made for him of the same wood a cross;\r\nNot of my body in no foul mannere,\r\nBut certainly I made folk such cheer,\r\nThat in his owen grease I made him fry\r\nFor anger, and for very jealousy.\r\nBy God, in earth I was his purgatory,\r\nFor which I hope his soul may be in glory.\r\nFor, God it wot, he sat full oft and sung,\r\nWhen that his shoe full bitterly him wrung.*                    *pinched\r\nThere was no wight, save God and he, that wist\r\nIn many wise how sore I did him twist.<20>\r\nHe died when I came from Jerusalem,\r\nAnd lies in grave under the *roode beam:*                        *cross*\r\nAlthough his tomb is not so curious\r\nAs was the sepulchre of Darius,\r\nWhich that Apelles wrought so subtlely.\r\nIt is but waste to bury them preciously.\r\nLet him fare well, God give his soule rest,\r\nHe is now in his grave and in his chest.\r\n\r\nNow of my fifthe husband will I tell:\r\nGod let his soul never come into hell.\r\nAnd yet was he to me the moste shrew;*              *cruel, ill-tempered\r\nThat feel I on my ribbes all *by rew,*                         *in a row\r\nAnd ever shall, until mine ending day.\r\nBut in our bed he was so fresh and gay,\r\nAnd therewithal so well he could me glose,*                     *flatter\r\nWhen that he woulde have my belle chose,\r\nThough he had beaten me on every bone,\r\nYet could he win again my love anon.\r\nI trow, I lov\u2019d him better, for that he\r\nWas of his love so dangerous* to me.                 *sparing, difficult\r\nWe women have, if that I shall not lie,\r\nIn this matter a quainte fantasy.\r\nWhatever thing we may not lightly have,\r\nThereafter will we cry all day and crave.\r\nForbid us thing, and that desire we;\r\nPress on us fast, and thenne will we flee.\r\nWith danger* utter we all our chaffare;**      *difficulty **merchandise\r\nGreat press at market maketh deare ware,\r\nAnd too great cheap is held at little price;\r\nThis knoweth every woman that is wise.\r\nMy fifthe husband, God his soule bless,\r\nWhich that I took for love and no richess,\r\nHe some time was *a clerk of Oxenford,*            *a scholar of Oxford*\r\nAnd had left school, and went at home to board\r\nWith my gossip,* dwelling in oure town:                       *godmother\r\nGod have her soul, her name was Alisoun.\r\nShe knew my heart, and all my privity,\r\nBet than our parish priest, so may I the.*                       *thrive\r\nTo her betrayed I my counsel all;\r\nFor had my husband pissed on a wall,\r\nOr done a thing that should have cost his life,\r\nTo her, and to another worthy wife,\r\nAnd to my niece, which that I loved well,\r\nI would have told his counsel every deal.*                          *jot\r\nAnd so I did full often, God it wot,\r\nThat made his face full often red and hot\r\nFor very shame, and blam\u2019d himself, for he\r\nHad told to me so great a privity.*                              *secret\r\nAnd so befell that ones in a Lent\r\n(So oftentimes I to my gossip went,\r\nFor ever yet I loved to be gay,\r\nAnd for to walk in March, April, and May\r\nFrom house to house, to heare sundry tales),\r\nThat Jenkin clerk, and my gossip, Dame Ales,\r\nAnd I myself, into the fieldes went.\r\nMine husband was at London all that Lent;\r\nI had the better leisure for to play,\r\nAnd for to see, and eke for to be sey*                             *seen\r\nOf lusty folk; what wist I where my grace*                       *favour\r\nWas shapen for to be, or in what place?                       *appointed\r\nTherefore made I my visitations\r\nTo vigilies,* and to processions,                     *festival-eves<22>\r\nTo preachings eke, and to these pilgrimages,\r\nTo plays of miracles, and marriages,\r\nAnd weared upon me gay scarlet gites.*                            *gowns\r\nThese wormes, nor these mothes, nor these mites\r\nOn my apparel frett* them never a deal**                     *fed **whit\r\nAnd know\u2019st thou why? for they were used* well.                    *worn\r\nNow will I telle forth what happen\u2019d me:\r\nI say, that in the fieldes walked we,\r\nTill truely we had such dalliance,\r\nThis clerk and I, that of my purveyance*                      *foresight\r\nI spake to him, and told him how that he,\r\nIf I were widow, shoulde wedde me.\r\nFor certainly, I say for no bobance,*                      *boasting<23>\r\nYet was I never without purveyance*                           *foresight\r\nOf marriage, nor of other thinges eke:\r\nI hold a mouse\u2019s wit not worth a leek,\r\nThat hath but one hole for to starte* to,<24>                    *escape\r\nAnd if that faile, then is all y-do.*                              *done\r\n[*I bare him on hand* he had enchanted me          *falsely assured him*\r\n(My dame taughte me that subtilty);\r\nAnd eke I said, I mette* of him all night,                      *dreamed\r\nHe would have slain me, as I lay upright,\r\nAnd all my bed was full of very blood;\r\nBut yet I hop\u2019d that he should do me good;\r\nFor blood betoken\u2019d gold, as me was taught.\r\nAnd all was false, I dream\u2019d of him right naught,\r\nBut as I follow\u2019d aye my dame\u2019s lore,\r\nAs well of that as of other things more.] <25>\r\nBut now, sir, let me see, what shall I sayn?\r\nAha! by God, I have my tale again.\r\nWhen that my fourthe husband was on bier,\r\nI wept algate* and made a sorry cheer,**           *always **countenance\r\nAs wives must, for it is the usage;\r\nAnd with my kerchief covered my visage;\r\nBut, for I was provided with a make,*                              *mate\r\nI wept but little, that I undertake*                            *promise\r\nTo churche was mine husband borne a-morrow\r\nWith neighebours that for him made sorrow,\r\nAnd Jenkin, oure clerk, was one of tho:*                          *those\r\nAs help me God, when that I saw him go\r\nAfter the bier, methought he had a pair\r\nOf legges and of feet so clean and fair,\r\nThat all my heart I gave unto his hold.*                        *keeping\r\nHe was, I trow, a twenty winter old,\r\nAnd I was forty, if I shall say sooth,\r\nBut yet I had always a colte\u2019s tooth.\r\nGat-toothed* I was, and that became me well,              *see note <26>\r\nI had the print of Sainte Venus\u2019 seal.\r\n[As help me God, I was a lusty one,\r\nAnd fair, and rich, and young, and *well begone:*        *in a good way*\r\nFor certes I am all venerian*              *under the influence of Venus\r\nIn feeling, and my heart is martian;*       *under the influence of Mars\r\nVenus me gave my lust and liquorishness,\r\nAnd Mars gave me my sturdy hardiness.] <25>\r\nMine ascendant was Taure,* and Mars therein:                     *Taurus\r\nAlas, alas, that ever love was sin!\r\nI follow\u2019d aye mine inclination\r\nBy virtue of my constellation:\r\nThat made me that I coulde not withdraw\r\nMy chamber of Venus from a good fellaw.\r\n[Yet have I Marte\u2019s mark upon my face,\r\nAnd also in another privy place.\r\nFor God so wisly* be my salvation,                            *certainly\r\nI loved never by discretion,\r\nBut ever follow\u2019d mine own appetite,\r\nAll* were he short, or long, or black, or white,                *whether\r\nI took no keep,* so that he liked me,                              *heed\r\nHow poor he was, neither of what degree.] <25>\r\nWhat should I say? but that at the month\u2019s end\r\nThis jolly clerk Jenkin, that was so hend,*                   *courteous\r\nHad wedded me with great solemnity,\r\nAnd to him gave I all the land and fee\r\nThat ever was me given therebefore:\r\nBut afterward repented me full sore.\r\nHe woulde suffer nothing of my list.*                          *pleasure\r\nBy God, he smote me ones with his fist,\r\nFor that I rent out of his book a leaf,\r\nThat of the stroke mine eare wax\u2019d all deaf.\r\nStubborn I was, as is a lioness,\r\nAnd of my tongue a very jangleress,*                             *prater\r\nAnd walk I would, as I had done beforn,\r\nFrom house to house, although he had it sworn:*            *had sworn to\r\nFor which he oftentimes woulde preach                         prevent it\r\nAnd me of olde Roman gestes* teach                              *stories\r\nHow that Sulpitius Gallus left his wife\r\nAnd her forsook for term of all his\r\nFor nought but open-headed* he her say**              *bare-headed **saw\r\nLooking out at his door upon a day.\r\nAnother Roman <27> told he me by name,\r\nThat, for his wife was at a summer game\r\nWithout his knowing, he forsook her eke.\r\nAnd then would he upon his Bible seek\r\nThat ilke* proverb of Ecclesiast,                                  *same\r\nWhere he commandeth, and forbiddeth fast,\r\nMan shall not suffer his wife go roll about.\r\nThen would he say right thus withoute doubt:\r\n\u201cWhoso that buildeth his house all of sallows,*                 *willows\r\nAnd pricketh his blind horse over the fallows,\r\nAnd suff\u2019reth his wife to *go seeke hallows,*         *make pilgrimages*\r\nIs worthy to be hanged on the gallows.\u201d\r\nBut all for nought; I *sette not a haw*              *cared nothing for*\r\nOf his proverbs, nor of his olde saw;\r\nNor would I not of him corrected be.\r\nI hate them that my vices telle me,\r\nAnd so do more of us (God wot) than I.\r\nThis made him wood* with me all utterly;                        *furious\r\nI woulde not forbear* him in no case.                            *endure\r\nNow will I say you sooth, by Saint Thomas,\r\nWhy that I rent out of his book a leaf,\r\nFor which he smote me, so that I was deaf.\r\nHe had a book, that gladly night and day\r\nFor his disport he would it read alway;\r\nHe call\u2019d it Valerie,<28> and Theophrast,\r\nAnd with that book he laugh\u2019d alway full fast.\r\nAnd eke there was a clerk sometime at Rome,\r\nA cardinal, that highte Saint Jerome,\r\nThat made a book against Jovinian,\r\nWhich book was there; and eke Tertullian,\r\nChrysippus, Trotula, and Heloise,\r\nThat was an abbess not far from Paris;\r\nAnd eke the Parables* of Solomon,                              *Proverbs\r\nOvide\u2019s Art, <29> and bourdes* many one;                          *jests\r\nAnd alle these were bound in one volume.\r\nAnd every night and day was his custume\r\n(When he had leisure and vacation\r\nFrom other worldly occupation)\r\nTo readen in this book of wicked wives.\r\nHe knew of them more legends and more lives\r\nThan be of goodde wives in the Bible.\r\nFor, trust me well, it is an impossible\r\nThat any clerk will speake good of wives,\r\n(*But if* it be of holy saintes\u2019 lives)                          *unless\r\nNor of none other woman never the mo\u2019.\r\nWho painted the lion, tell it me, who?\r\nBy God, if women haddde written stories,\r\nAs clerkes have within their oratories,\r\nThey would have writ of men more wickedness\r\nThan all the mark of Adam <30> may redress\r\nThe children of Mercury and of Venus,<31>\r\nBe in their working full contrarious.\r\nMercury loveth wisdom and science,\r\nAnd Venus loveth riot and dispence.*                       *extravagance\r\nAnd for their diverse disposition,\r\nEach falls in other\u2019s exaltation.\r\nAs thus, God wot, Mercury is desolate\r\nIn Pisces, where Venus is exaltate,\r\nAnd Venus falls where Mercury is raised. <32>\r\nTherefore no woman by no clerk is praised.\r\nThe clerk, when he is old, and may not do\r\nOf Venus\u2019 works not worth his olde shoe,\r\nThen sits he down, and writes in his dotage,\r\nThat women cannot keep their marriage.\r\nBut now to purpose, why I tolde thee\r\nThat I was beaten for a book, pardie.\r\n\r\nUpon a night Jenkin, that was our sire,*                        *goodman\r\nRead on his book, as he sat by the fire,\r\nOf Eva first, that for her wickedness\r\nWas all mankind brought into wretchedness,\r\nFor which that Jesus Christ himself was slain,\r\nThat bought us with his hearte-blood again.\r\nLo here express of women may ye find\r\nThat woman was the loss of all mankind.\r\nThen read he me how Samson lost his hairs\r\nSleeping, his leman cut them with her shears,\r\nThrough whiche treason lost he both his eyen.\r\nThen read he me, if that I shall not lien,\r\nOf Hercules, and of his Dejanire,\r\nThat caused him to set himself on fire.\r\nNothing forgot he of the care and woe\r\nThat Socrates had with his wives two;\r\nHow Xantippe cast piss upon his head.\r\nThis silly man sat still, as he were dead,\r\nHe wip\u2019d his head, and no more durst he sayn,\r\nBut, \u201cEre the thunder stint* there cometh rain.\u201d                 *ceases\r\nOf Phasiphae, that was queen of Crete,\r\nFor shrewedness* he thought the tale sweet.                  *wickedness\r\nFy, speak no more, it is a grisly thing,\r\nOf her horrible lust and her liking.\r\nOf Clytemnestra, for her lechery\r\nThat falsely made her husband for to die,\r\nHe read it with full good devotion.\r\nHe told me eke, for what occasion\r\nAmphiorax at Thebes lost his life:\r\nMy husband had a legend of his wife\r\nEryphile, that for an ouche* of gold                      *clasp, collar\r\nHad privily unto the Greekes told,\r\nWhere that her husband hid him in a place,\r\nFor which he had at Thebes sorry grace.\r\nOf Luna told he me, and of Lucie;\r\nThey bothe made their husbands for to die,\r\nThat one for love, that other was for hate.\r\nLuna her husband on an ev\u2019ning late\r\nEmpoison\u2019d had, for that she was his foe:\r\nLucia liquorish lov\u2019d her husband so,\r\nThat, for he should always upon her think,\r\nShe gave him such a manner* love-drink,                         *sort of\r\nThat he was dead before it were the morrow:\r\nAnd thus algates* husbands hadde sorrow.                         *always\r\nThen told he me how one Latumeus\r\nComplained to his fellow Arius\r\nThat in his garden growed such a tree,\r\nOn which he said how that his wives three\r\nHanged themselves for heart dispiteous.\r\n\u201cO leve* brother,\u201d quoth this Arius,                               *dear\r\n\u201cGive me a plant of thilke* blessed tree,                          *that\r\nAnd in my garden planted shall it be.\u201d\r\nOf later date of wives hath he read,\r\nThat some have slain their husbands in their bed,\r\nAnd let their *lechour dight them* all the night,      *lover ride them*\r\nWhile that the corpse lay on the floor upright:\r\nAnd some have driven nails into their brain,\r\nWhile that they slept, and thus they have them slain:\r\nSome have them given poison in their drink:\r\nHe spake more harm than hearte may bethink.\r\nAnd therewithal he knew of more proverbs,\r\nThan in this world there groweth grass or herbs.\r\n\u201cBetter (quoth he) thine habitation\r\nBe with a lion, or a foul dragon,\r\nThan with a woman using for to chide.\r\nBetter (quoth he) high in the roof abide,\r\nThan with an angry woman in the house,\r\nThey be so wicked and contrarious:\r\nThey hate that their husbands loven aye.\u201d\r\nHe said, \u201cA woman cast her shame away\r\nWhen she cast off her smock;\u201d and farthermo\u2019,\r\n\u201cA fair woman, but* she be chaste also,                          *except\r\nIs like a gold ring in a sowe\u2019s nose.\r\nWho coulde ween,* or who coulde suppose                           *think\r\nThe woe that in mine heart was, and the pine?*                     *pain\r\nAnd when I saw that he would never fine*                         *finish\r\nTo readen on this cursed book all night,\r\nAll suddenly three leaves have I plight*                        *plucked\r\nOut of his book, right as he read, and eke\r\nI with my fist so took him on the cheek,\r\nThat in our fire he backward fell adown.\r\nAnd he up start, as doth a wood* lion,                          *furious\r\nAnd with his fist he smote me on the head,\r\nThat on the floor I lay as I were dead.\r\nAnd when he saw how still that there I lay,\r\nHe was aghast, and would have fled away,\r\nTill at the last out of my swoon I braid,*                         *woke\r\n\u201cOh, hast thou slain me, thou false thief?\u201d I said\r\n\u201cAnd for my land thus hast thou murder\u2019d me?\r\nEre I be dead, yet will I kisse thee.\u201d\r\nAnd near he came, and kneeled fair adown,\r\nAnd saide\u201d, \u201cDeare sister Alisoun,\r\nAs help me God, I shall thee never smite:\r\nThat I have done it is thyself to wite,*                          *blame\r\nForgive it me, and that I thee beseek.\u201d*                        *beseech\r\nAnd yet eftsoons* I hit him on the cheek,            *immediately; again\r\nAnd saidde, \u201cThief, thus much am I awreak.*                     *avenged\r\nNow will I die, I may no longer speak.\u201d\r\n\r\nBut at the last, with muche care and woe\r\nWe fell accorded* by ourselves two:                              *agreed\r\nHe gave me all the bridle in mine hand\r\nTo have the governance of house and land,\r\nAnd of his tongue, and of his hand also.\r\nI made him burn his book anon right tho.*                          *then\r\nAnd when that I had gotten unto me\r\nBy mast\u2019ry all the sovereignety,\r\nAnd that he said, \u201cMine owen true wife,\r\nDo *as thee list,* the term of all thy life,           *as pleases thee*\r\nKeep thine honour, and eke keep mine estate;\r\nAfter that day we never had debate.\r\nGod help me so, I was to him as kind\r\nAs any wife from Denmark unto Ind,\r\nAnd also true, and so was he to me:\r\nI pray to God that sits in majesty\r\nSo bless his soule, for his mercy dear.\r\nNow will I say my tale, if ye will hear. \u2014\r\n\r\nThe Friar laugh\u2019d when he had heard all this:\r\n\u201cNow, Dame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cso have I joy and bliss,\r\nThis is a long preamble of a tale.\u201d\r\nAnd when the Sompnour heard the Friar gale,*                      *speak\r\n\u201cLo,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cGodde\u2019s armes two,\r\nA friar will intermete* him evermo\u2019:                     *interpose <33>\r\nLo, goode men, a fly and eke a frere\r\nWill fall in ev\u2019ry dish and eke mattere.\r\nWhat speak\u2019st thou of perambulation?*                          *preamble\r\nWhat? amble or trot; or peace, or go sit down:\r\nThou lettest* our disport in this mattere.\u201d                  *hinderesst\r\n\u201cYea, wilt thou so, Sir Sompnour?\u201d quoth the Frere;\r\n\u201cNow by my faith I shall, ere that I go,\r\nTell of a Sompnour such a tale or two,\r\nThat all the folk shall laughen in this place.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow do, else, Friar, I beshrew* thy face,\u201d                       *curse\r\nQuoth this Sompnour; \u201cand I beshrewe me,\r\nBut if* I telle tales two or three                               *unless\r\nOf friars, ere I come to Sittingbourne,\r\nThat I shall make thine hearte for to mourn:\r\nFor well I wot thy patience is gone.\u201d\r\nOur Hoste cried, \u201cPeace, and that anon;\u201d\r\nAnd saide, \u201cLet the woman tell her tale.\r\nYe fare* as folk that drunken be of ale.                         *behave\r\nDo, Dame, tell forth your tale, and that is best.\u201d\r\n\u201cAll ready, sir,\u201d quoth she, \u201cright as you lest,*                *please\r\nIf I have licence of this worthy Frere.\u201d\r\n\u201cYes, Dame,\u201d quoth he, \u201ctell forth, and I will hear.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Wife of Bath\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Among the evidences that Chaucer\u2019s great work was left\r\nincomplete, is the absence of any link of connexion between the\r\nWife of Bath\u2019s Prologue and Tale, and what goes before. This\r\ndeficiency has in some editions caused the Squire\u2019s and the\r\nMerchant\u2019s Tales to be interposed between those of the Man of\r\nLaw and the Wife of Bath; but in the Merchant\u2019s Tale there is\r\ninternal proof that it was told after the jolly Dame\u2019s.  Several\r\nmanuscripts contain verses designed to serve as a connexion;\r\nbut they are evidently not Chaucer\u2019s, and it is unnecessary to\r\ngive them here. Of this Prologue, which may fairly be regarded\r\nas a distinct autobiographical tale, Tyrwhitt says: \u201cThe\r\nextraordinary length of it, as well as the vein of pleasantry that\r\nruns through it, is very suitable to the character of the speaker.\r\nThe greatest part must have been of Chaucer\u2019s own invention,\r\nthough one may plainly see that he had been reading the popular\r\ninvectives against marriage and women in general; such as the\r\n\u2018Roman de la Rose,\u2019  \u2018Valerius ad Rufinum, De non Ducenda\r\nUxore,\u2019 (\u2018Valerius to Rufinus, on not being ruled by one\u2019s wife\u2019)\r\nand particularly \u2018Hieronymus contra Jovinianum.\u2019 (\u2018Jerome\r\nagainst Jovinianus\u2019)  St Jerome, among other things designed to\r\ndiscourage marriage, has inserted in his treatise a long passage\r\nfrom \u2018Liber Aureolus Theophrasti de Nuptiis.\u2019 (\u2018Theophrastus\u2019s\r\nGolden Book of Marriage\u2019).\u201d\r\n\r\n2. A great part of the marriage service used to be performed in\r\nthe church-porch.\r\n\r\n3. Jesus and the Samaritan woman: John iv. 13.\r\n\r\n4. Dan: Lord; Latin, \u201cdominus.\u201d  Another reading is \u201cthe wise\r\nman, King Solomon.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. Defended: forbade; French, \u201cdefendre,\u201d to prohibit.\r\n\r\n6. Dart: the goal; a spear or dart was set up to mark the point of\r\nvictory.\r\n\r\n7. \u201cBut in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and\r\nsilver, but also of wood and of earth; and some to honour, and\r\nsome to dishonour.\u201d \u2014 2 Tim. ii 20.\r\n\r\n8. Jesus feeding the multitude with barley bread: Mark vi. 41,\r\n42.\r\n\r\n9. At Dunmow prevailed the custom of giving, amid much\r\nmerry making, a flitch of bacon to the married pair who had\r\nlived together for a year without quarrel or regret. The same\r\ncustom prevailed of old in Bretagne.\r\n\r\n10. \u201cCagnard,\u201d or \u201cCaignard,\u201d a French term of reproach,\r\noriginally derived from \u201ccanis,\u201d a dog.\r\n\r\n11. Parage: birth, kindred; from Latin, \u201cpario,\u201d I beget.\r\n\r\n12. Norice: nurse; French, \u201cnourrice.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. This and the previous quotation from Ptolemy are due to\r\nthe Dame\u2019s own fancy.\r\n\r\n14. (Transcriber\u2019s note: Some Victorian censorship here. The\r\nword given in [brackets] should be \u201cqueint\u201d i.e. \u201ccunt\u201d.)\r\n\r\n15. Women should not adorn themselves:  see I Tim. ii. 9.\r\n\r\n16. Cherte: affection; from French, \u201ccher,\u201d dear.\r\n\r\n17. Nicety: folly; French, \u201cniaiserie.\u201d\r\n\r\n18. Ba: kiss; from French, \u201cbaiser.\u201d\r\n\r\n19. Peter!: by Saint Peter! a common adjuration, like Marie!\r\nfrom the Virgin\u2019s name.\r\n\r\n20. St. Joce: or Judocus, a saint of Ponthieu, in France.\r\n\r\n21. \u201cAn allusion,\u201d says Mr Wright, \u201cto the story of the Roman\r\nsage who, when blamed for divorcing his wife, said that a shoe\r\nmight appear outwardly to fit well, but no one but the wearer\r\nknew where it pinched.\u201d\r\n\r\n22. Vigilies: festival-eves; see note 33 to the Prologue to the\r\nTales.\r\n\r\n23. Bobance: boasting; Ben Jonson\u2019s braggart, in \u201cEvery Man in\r\nhis Humour,\u201d is named Bobadil.\r\n\r\n24. \u201cI hold a mouse\u2019s wit not worth a leek,\r\n     That hath but one hole for to starte to\u201d\r\n A very old proverb in French, German, and Latin.\r\n\r\n25. The lines in brackets are only in some of the manuscripts.\r\n\r\n26. Gat-toothed: gap-toothed; goat-toothed; or cat- or separate\r\ntoothed. See note 41 to the prologue to the Tales.\r\n\r\n27. Sempronius Sophus, of whom Valerius Maximus tells in his\r\nsixth book.\r\n\r\n28. The tract of Walter Mapes against marriage, published\r\nunder the title of \u201cEpistola Valerii ad Rufinum.\u201d\r\n\r\n29. \u201cArs Amoris.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. All the mark of Adam: all who bear the mark of Adam i.e.\r\nall men.\r\n\r\n31. The Children of Mercury and Venus: those born under the\r\ninfluence of the respective planets.\r\n\r\n32. A planet, according to the old astrologers, was in\r\n\u201cexaltation\u201d when in the sign of the Zodiac in which it exerted\r\nits strongest influence; the opposite sign, in which it was\r\nweakest, was called its \u201cdejection.\u201d  Venus being strongest in\r\nPisces, was weakest in Virgo; but in Virgo Mercury was in\r\n\u201cexaltation.\u201d\r\n\r\n33. Intermete: interpose; French, \u201centremettre.\u201d\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nIn olde dayes of the king Arthour,\r\nOf which that Britons speake great honour,\r\nAll was this land full fill\u2019d of faerie;*                       *fairies\r\nThe Elf-queen, with her jolly company,\r\nDanced full oft in many a green mead\r\nThis was the old opinion, as I read;\r\nI speak of many hundred years ago;\r\nBut now can no man see none elves mo\u2019,\r\nFor now the great charity and prayeres\r\nOf limitours,* and other holy freres,                *begging friars <2>\r\nThat search every land and ev\u2019ry stream\r\nAs thick as motes in the sunne-beam,\r\nBlessing halls, chambers, kitchenes, and  bowers,\r\nCities and burghes, castles high and towers,\r\nThorpes* and barnes, shepens** and dairies,      *villages <3> **stables\r\nThis makes that there be now no faeries:\r\nFor *there as* wont to walke was an elf,                         *where*\r\nThere walketh now the limitour himself,\r\nIn undermeles* and in morrowings**,             *evenings <4>\t**mornings\r\nAnd saith his matins and his holy things,\r\nAs he goes in his limitatioun.*                        *begging district\r\nWomen may now go safely up and down,\r\nIn every bush, and under every tree;\r\nThere is none other incubus <5> but he;\r\nAnd he will do to them no dishonour.\r\n\r\nAnd so befell it, that this king Arthour\r\nHad in his house a lusty bacheler,\r\nThat on a day came riding from river: <6>\r\nAnd happen\u2019d, that, alone as she was born,\r\nHe saw a maiden walking him beforn,\r\nOf which maiden anon, maugre* her head,                     *in spite of\r\nBy very force he reft her maidenhead:\r\nFor which oppression was such clamour,\r\nAnd such pursuit unto the king Arthour,\r\nThat damned* was this knight for to be dead                   *condemned\r\nBy course of law, and should have lost his head;\r\n(Paraventure such was the statute tho),*                           *then\r\nBut that the queen and other ladies mo\u2019\r\nSo long they prayed the king of his grace,\r\nTill he his life him granted in the place,\r\nAnd gave him to the queen, all at her will\r\nTo choose whether she would him save or spill*                  *destroy\r\nThe queen thanked the king with all her might;\r\nAnd, after this, thus spake she to the knight,\r\nWhen that she saw her time upon a day.\r\n\u201cThou standest yet,\u201d quoth she, \u201cin such array,*             *a position\r\nThat of thy life yet hast thou no surety;\r\nI grant thee life, if thou canst tell to me\r\nWhat thing is it that women most desiren:\r\nBeware, and keep thy neck-bone from the iron*         *executioner\u2019s axe\r\nAnd if thou canst not tell it me anon,\r\nYet will I give thee leave for to gon\r\nA twelvemonth and a day, to seek and lear*                        *learn\r\nAn answer suffisant* in this mattere.                      *satisfactory\r\nAnd surety will I have, ere that thou pace,*                         *go\r\nThy body for to yielden in this place.\u201d\r\nWoe was the knight, and sorrowfully siked;*                      *sighed\r\nBut what? he might not do all as him liked.\r\nAnd at the last he chose him for to wend,*                       *depart\r\nAnd come again, right at the yeare\u2019s end,\r\nWith such answer as God would him purvey:*                      *provide\r\nAnd took his leave, and wended forth his way.\r\n\r\nHe sought in ev\u2019ry house and ev\u2019ry place,\r\nWhere as he hoped for to finde grace,\r\nTo learne what thing women love the most:\r\nBut he could not arrive in any coast,\r\nWhere as he mighte find in this mattere\r\nTwo creatures *according in fere.*                   *agreeing together*\r\nSome said that women loved best richess,\r\nSome said honour, and some said jolliness,\r\nSome rich array, and some said lust* a-bed,                    *pleasure\r\nAnd oft time to be widow and be wed.\r\nSome said, that we are in our heart most eased\r\nWhen that we are y-flatter\u2019d and y-praised.\r\nHe *went full nigh the sooth,* I will not lie;           *came very near\r\nA man shall win us best with flattery;                        the truth*\r\nAnd with attendance, and with business\r\nBe we y-limed,* bothe more and less.              *caught with bird-lime\r\nAnd some men said that we do love the best\r\nFor to be free, and do *right as us lest,*          *whatever we please*\r\nAnd that no man reprove us of our vice,\r\nBut say that we are wise, and nothing nice,*                *foolish <7>\r\nFor truly there is none among us all,\r\nIf any wight will *claw us on the gall,*                  *see note <8>*\r\nThat will not kick, for that he saith us sooth:\r\nAssay,* and he shall find it, that so do\u2019th.                        *try\r\nFor be we never so vicious within,\r\nWe will be held both wise and clean of sin.\r\nAnd some men said, that great delight have we\r\nFor to be held stable and eke secre,*                          *discreet\r\nAnd in one purpose steadfastly to dwell,\r\nAnd not bewray* a thing that men us tell.                     *give away\r\nBut that tale is not worth a rake-stele.*                   *rake-handle\r\nPardie, we women canne nothing hele,*                          *hide <9>\r\nWitness on Midas; will ye hear the tale?\r\nOvid, amonges other thinges smale*                                *small\r\nSaith, Midas had, under his longe hairs,\r\nGrowing upon his head two ass\u2019s ears;\r\nThe whiche vice he hid, as best he might,\r\nFull subtlely from every man\u2019s sight,\r\nThat, save his wife, there knew of it no mo\u2019;\r\nHe lov\u2019d her most, and trusted her also;\r\nHe prayed her, that to no creature\r\nShe woulde tellen of his disfigure.\r\nShe swore him, nay, for all the world to win,\r\nShe would not do that villainy or sin,\r\nTo make her husband have so foul a name:\r\nShe would not tell it for her owen shame.\r\nBut natheless her thoughte that she died,\r\nThat she so longe should a counsel hide;\r\nHer thought it swell\u2019d so sore about her heart\r\nThat needes must some word from her astart\r\nAnd, since she durst not tell it unto man\r\nDown to a marish fast thereby she ran,\r\nTill she came there, her heart was all afire:\r\nAnd, as a bittern bumbles* in the mire,           *makes a humming noise\r\nShe laid her mouth unto the water down\r\n\u201cBewray me not, thou water, with thy soun\u2019\u201d\r\nQuoth she, \u201cto thee I tell it, and no mo\u2019,\r\nMine husband hath long ass\u2019s eares two!\r\nNow is mine heart all whole; now is it out;\r\nI might no longer keep it, out of doubt.\u201d\r\nHere may ye see, though we a time abide,\r\nYet out it must, we can no counsel hide.\r\nThe remnant of the tale, if ye will hear,\r\nRead in Ovid, and there ye may it lear.*                          *learn\r\n\r\nThis knight, of whom my tale is specially,\r\nWhen that he saw he might not come thereby,\r\nThat is to say, what women love the most,\r\nWithin his breast full sorrowful was his ghost.*                 *spirit\r\nBut home he went, for he might not sojourn,\r\nThe day was come, that homeward he must turn.\r\nAnd in his way it happen\u2019d him to ride,\r\nIn all his care,* under a forest side,                 *trouble, anxiety\r\nWhere as he saw upon a dance go\r\nOf ladies four-and-twenty, and yet mo\u2019,\r\nToward this ilke* dance he drew full yern,**        *same **eagerly <10>\r\nThe hope that he some wisdom there should learn;\r\nBut certainly, ere he came fully there,\r\nY-vanish\u2019d was this dance, he knew not where;\r\nNo creature saw he that bare life,\r\nSave on the green he sitting saw a wife,\r\nA fouler wight there may no man devise.*                  *imagine, tell\r\nAgainst* this knight this old wife gan to rise,                 *to meet\r\nAnd said, \u201cSir Knight, hereforth* lieth no way.               *from here\r\nTell me what ye are seeking, by your fay.\r\nParaventure it may the better be:\r\nThese olde folk know muche thing.\u201d quoth she.\r\nMy leve* mother,\u201d quoth this knight, \u201ccertain,                     *dear\r\nI am but dead, but if* that I can sayn                           *unless\r\nWhat thing it is that women most desire:\r\nCould ye me wiss,* I would well *quite your hire.\u201d*       *instruct <11>\r\n\u201cPlight me thy troth here in mine hand,\u201d quoth she,         *reward you*\r\n\u201cThe nexte thing that I require of thee\r\nThou shalt it do, if it be in thy might,\r\nAnd I will tell it thee ere it be night.\u201d\r\n\u201cHave here my trothe,\u201d quoth the knight; \u201cI grant.\u201d\r\n\u201cThenne,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI dare me well avaunt,*             *boast, affirm\r\nThy life is safe, for I will stand thereby,\r\nUpon my life the queen will say as I:\r\nLet see, which is the proudest of them all,\r\nThat wears either a kerchief or a caul,\r\nThat dare say nay to that I shall you teach.\r\nLet us go forth withoute longer speech\r\nThen *rowned she a pistel* in his ear,          *she whispered a secret*\r\nAnd bade him to be glad, and have no fear.\r\n\r\nWhen they were come unto the court, this knight\r\nSaid, he had held his day, as he had hight,*                   *promised\r\nAnd ready was his answer, as he said.\r\nFull many a noble wife, and many a maid,\r\nAnd many a widow, for that they be wise, \u2014\r\nThe queen herself sitting as a justice, \u2014\r\nAssembled be, his answer for to hear,\r\nAnd afterward this knight was bid appear.\r\nTo every wight commanded was silence,\r\nAnd that the knight should tell in audience,\r\nWhat thing that worldly women love the best.\r\nThis knight he stood not still, as doth a beast,\r\nBut to this question anon answer\u2019d\r\nWith manly voice, that all the court it heard,\r\n\u201cMy liege lady, generally,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cWomen desire to have the sovereignty\r\nAs well over their husband as their love\r\nAnd for to be in mast\u2019ry him above.\r\nThis is your most desire, though ye me kill,\r\nDo as you list, I am here at your will.\u201d\r\nIn all the court there was no wife nor maid\r\nNor widow, that contraried what he said,\r\nBut said, he worthy was to have his life.\r\nAnd with that word up start that olde wife\r\nWhich that the knight saw sitting on the green.\r\n\r\n\u201cMercy,\u201d quoth she, \u201cmy sovereign lady queen,\r\nEre that your court departe, do me right.\r\nI taughte this answer unto this knight,\r\nFor which he plighted me his trothe there,\r\nThe firste thing I would of him requere,\r\nHe would it do, if it lay in his might.\r\nBefore this court then pray I thee, Sir Knight,\u201d\r\nQuoth she, \u201cthat thou me take unto thy wife,\r\nFor well thou know\u2019st that I have kept* thy life.             *preserved\r\nIf I say false, say nay, upon thy fay.\u201d*                          *faith\r\nThis knight answer\u2019d, \u201cAlas, and well-away!\r\nI know right well that such was my behest.*                     *promise\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love choose a new request\r\nTake all my good, and let my body go.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, then,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI shrew* us bothe two,                   *curse\r\nFor though that I be old, and foul, and poor,\r\nI n\u2019ould* for all the metal nor the ore,                      *would not\r\nThat under earth is grave,* or lies above                        *buried\r\nBut if thy wife I were and eke thy love.\u201d\r\n\u201cMy love?\u201d quoth he, \u201cnay, my damnation,\r\nAlas! that any of my nation\r\nShould ever so foul disparaged be.\r\nBut all for nought; the end is this, that he\r\nConstrained was, that needs he muste wed,\r\nAnd take this olde wife, and go to bed.\r\n\r\nNow woulde some men say paraventure\r\nThat for my negligence I do no cure*                      *take no pains\r\nTo tell you all the joy and all th\u2019 array\r\nThat at the feast was made that ilke* day.                         *same\r\nTo which thing shortly answeren I shall:\r\nI say there was no joy nor feast at all,\r\nThere was but heaviness and muche sorrow:\r\nFor privily he wed her on the morrow;\r\nAnd all day after hid him as an owl,\r\nSo woe was him, his wife look\u2019d so foul\r\nGreat was the woe the knight had in his thought\r\nWhen he was with his wife to bed y-brought;\r\nHe wallow\u2019d, and he turned to and fro.\r\nThis olde wife lay smiling evermo\u2019,\r\nAnd said, \u201cDear husband, benedicite,\r\nFares every knight thus with his wife as ye?\r\nIs this the law of king Arthoures house?\r\nIs every knight of his thus dangerous?*           *fastidious, niggardly\r\nI am your owen love, and eke your wife\r\nI am she, which that saved hath your life\r\nAnd certes yet did I you ne\u2019er unright.\r\nWhy fare ye thus with me this firste night?\r\nYe fare like a man had lost his wit.\r\nWhat is my guilt? for God\u2019s love tell me it,\r\nAnd it shall be amended, if I may.\u201d\r\n\u201cAmended!\u201d quoth this knight; \u201calas, nay, nay,\r\nIt will not be amended, never mo\u2019;\r\nThou art so loathly, and so old also,\r\nAnd thereto* comest of so low a kind,                       *in addition\r\nThat little wonder though I  wallow and wind;*       *writhe, turn about\r\nSo woulde God, mine hearte woulde brest!\u201d*                        *burst\r\n\u201cIs this,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthe cause of your unrest?\u201d\r\n\u201cYea, certainly,\u201d quoth he; \u201cno wonder is.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, Sir,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI could amend all this,\r\nIf that me list, ere it were dayes three,\r\n*So well ye mighte bear you unto me.*              *if you could conduct\r\nBut, for ye speaken of such gentleness                     yourself well\r\nAs is descended out of old richess,                          towards me*\r\nThat therefore shalle ye be gentlemen;\r\nSuch arrogancy is *not worth a hen.*                      *worth nothing\r\nLook who that is most virtuous alway,\r\n*Prive and apert,* and most intendeth aye        *in private and public*\r\nTo do the gentle deedes that he can;\r\nAnd take him for the greatest gentleman.\r\nChrist will,* we claim of him our gentleness,           *wills, requires\r\nNot of our elders* for their old richess.                     *ancestors\r\nFor though they gave us all their heritage,\r\nFor which we claim to be of high parage,*                *birth, descent\r\nYet may they not bequeathe, for no thing,\r\nTo none of us, their virtuous living\r\nThat made them gentlemen called to be,\r\nAnd bade us follow them in such degree.\r\nWell can the wise poet of Florence,\r\nThat highte Dante, speak of this sentence:*                   *sentiment\r\nLo, in such manner* rhyme is Dante\u2019s tale.                      *kind of\r\n\u2018Full seld\u2019* upriseth by his branches smale                      *seldom\r\nProwess of man, for God of his goodness\r\nWills that we claim of him our gentleness;\u2019 <12>\r\nFor of our elders may we nothing claim\r\nBut temp\u2019ral things that man may hurt and maim.\r\nEke every wight knows this as well as I,\r\nIf gentleness were planted naturally\r\nUnto a certain lineage down the line,\r\nPrive and apert, then would they never fine*                      *cease\r\nTo do of gentleness the fair office\r\nThen might they do no villainy nor vice.\r\nTake fire, and bear it to the darkest house\r\nBetwixt this and the mount of Caucasus,\r\nAnd let men shut the doores, and go thenne,*                     *thence\r\nYet will the fire as fair and lighte brenne*                       *burn\r\nAs twenty thousand men might it behold;\r\n*Its office natural aye will it hold,*              *it will perform its\r\nOn peril of my life, till that it die.                     natural duty*\r\nHere may ye see well how that gentery*              *gentility, nobility\r\nIs not annexed to possession,\r\nSince folk do not their operation\r\nAlway, as doth the fire, lo, *in its kind*        *from its very nature*\r\nFor, God it wot, men may full often find\r\nA lorde\u2019s son do shame and villainy.\r\nAnd he that will have price* of his gent\u2019ry,             *esteem, honour\r\nFor* he was boren of a gentle house,                            *because\r\nAnd had his elders noble and virtuous,\r\nAnd will himselfe do no gentle deedes,\r\nNor follow his gentle ancestry, that dead is,\r\nHe is not gentle, be he duke or earl;\r\nFor villain sinful deedes make a churl.\r\nFor gentleness is but the renomee*                               *renown\r\nOf thine ancestors, for their high bounte,*             *goodness, worth\r\nWhich is a strange thing to thy person:\r\nThy gentleness cometh from God alone.\r\nThen comes our very* gentleness of grace;                          *true\r\nIt was no thing bequeath\u2019d us with our place.\r\nThink how noble, as saith Valerius,\r\nWas thilke* Tullius Hostilius,                                     *that\r\nThat out of povert\u2019 rose to high\r\nRead in Senec, and read eke in Boece,\r\nThere shall ye see express, that it no drede* is,                 *doubt\r\nThat he is gentle that doth gentle deedes.\r\nAnd therefore, leve* husband, I conclude,                          *dear\r\nAlbeit that mine ancestors were rude,\r\nYet may the highe God, \u2014 and so hope I, \u2014\r\nGrant me His grace to live virtuously:\r\nThen am I gentle when that I begin\r\nTo live virtuously, and waive* sin.                             *forsake\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd whereas ye of povert\u2019 me repreve,*                        *reproach\r\nThe highe God, on whom that we believe,\r\nIn wilful povert\u2019 chose to lead his life:\r\nAnd certes, every man, maiden, or wife\r\nMay understand that Jesus, heaven\u2019s king,\r\nNe would not choose a virtuous living.\r\n*Glad povert\u2019* is an honest thing, certain;          *poverty cheerfully\r\nThis will Senec and other clerkes sayn                          endured*\r\nWhoso that *holds him paid of*  his povert\u2019,         *is satisfied with*\r\nI hold him rich though he hath not a shirt.\r\nHe that coveteth is a poore wight\r\nFor he would have what is not in his might\r\nBut he that nought hath, nor coveteth to have,\r\nIs rich, although ye hold him but a knave.*        *slave, abject wretch\r\n*Very povert\u2019 is sinne,* properly.        *the only true poverty is sin*\r\nJuvenal saith of povert\u2019 merrily:\r\nThe poore man, when he goes by the way\r\nBefore the thieves he may sing and play <13>\r\nPovert\u2019 is hateful good,<14> and, as I guess,\r\nA full great *bringer out of business;*           *deliver from trouble*\r\nA great amender eke of sapience\r\nTo him that taketh it in patience.\r\nPovert\u2019 is this, although it seem elenge*                  *strange <15>\r\nPossession that no wight will challenge\r\nPovert\u2019 full often, when a man is low,\r\nMakes him his God and eke himself to know\r\nPovert\u2019 a spectacle* is, as thinketh me            *a pair of spectacles\r\nThrough which he may his very* friendes see.                       *true\r\nAnd, therefore, Sir, since that I you not grieve,\r\nOf my povert\u2019 no more me repreve.*                             *reproach\r\n\u201cNow, Sir, of elde* ye repreve me:                                  *age\r\nAnd certes, Sir, though none authority*                    *text, dictum\r\nWere in no book, ye gentles of honour\r\nSay, that men should an olde wight honour,\r\nAnd call him father, for your gentleness;\r\nAnd authors shall I finden, as I guess.\r\nNow there ye say that I am foul and old,\r\nThen dread ye not to be a cokewold.*                            *cuckold\r\nFor filth, and elde, all so may I the,*                          *thrive\r\nBe greate wardens upon chastity.\r\nBut natheless, since I know your delight,\r\nI shall fulfil your wordly appetite.\r\nChoose now,\u201d quoth she, \u201cone of these thinges tway,\r\nTo have me foul and old till that I dey,*                           *die\r\nAnd be to you a true humble wife,\r\nAnd never you displease in all my life:\r\nOr elles will ye have me young and fair,\r\nAnd take your aventure of the repair*                            *resort\r\nThat shall be to your house because of me, \u2014\r\nOr in some other place, it may well be?\r\nNow choose yourselfe whether that you liketh.\r\n\r\nThis knight adviseth* him and sore he siketh,**     *considered **sighed\r\nBut at the last he said in this mannere;\r\n\u201cMy lady and my love, and wife so dear,\r\nI put me in your wise governance,\r\nChoose for yourself which may be most pleasance\r\nAnd most honour to you and me also;\r\nI *do no force* the whether of the two:                        *care not\r\nFor as you liketh, it sufficeth me.\u201d\r\n\u201cThen have I got the mastery,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cSince I may choose and govern as me lest.\u201d*                    *pleases\r\n\u201cYea, certes wife,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI hold it best.\u201d\r\n\u201cKiss me,\u201d quoth she, \u201cwe are no longer wroth,*             *at variance\r\nFor by my troth I will be to you both;\r\nThis is to say, yea, bothe fair and good.\r\nI pray to God that I may *sterve wood,*                        *die mad*\r\nBut* I to you be all so good and true,                           *unless\r\nAs ever was wife since the world was new;\r\nAnd but* I be to-morrow as fair to seen,                         *unless\r\nAs any lady, emperess or queen,\r\nThat is betwixt the East and eke the West\r\nDo with my life and death right as you lest.*                    *please\r\nCast up the curtain, and look how it is.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd when the knight saw verily all this,\r\nThat she so fair was, and so young thereto,\r\nFor joy he hent* her in his armes two:                             *took\r\nHis hearte bathed in a bath of bliss,\r\nA thousand times *on row* he gan her kiss:               *in succession*\r\nAnd she obeyed him in every thing\r\nThat mighte do him pleasance or liking.\r\nAnd thus they live unto their lives\u2019 end\r\nIn  perfect joy; and Jesus Christ us send\r\nHusbandes meek and young, and fresh in bed,\r\nAnd grace to overlive them that we wed.\r\nAnd eke I pray Jesus to short their lives,\r\nThat will not be governed by their wives.\r\nAnd old and angry niggards of dispence,*                        *expense\r\nGod send them soon a very pestilence!\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Wife of Bath\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. It is not clear whence Chaucer derived this tale. Tyrwhitt\r\nthinks it was taken from the story of Florent, in the first book of\r\nGower\u2019s \u201cConfessio Amantis;\u201d or perhaps from an older\r\nnarrative from which Gower himself borrowed. Chaucer has\r\ncondensed and otherwise improved the fable, especially by\r\nlaying the scene, not in Sicily, but at the court of our own King\r\nArthur.\r\n\r\n2. Limitours: begging friars. See note 18 to the prologue to the\r\nTales.\r\n\r\n3. Thorpes: villages.  Compare German, \u201cDorf,\u201d; Dutch,\r\n\u201cDorp.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. Undermeles: evening-tides, afternoons; \u201cundern\u201d signifies the\r\nevening; and \u201cmele,\u201d corresponds to the German \u201cMal\u201d or\r\n\u201cMahl,\u201d time.\r\n\r\n5. Incubus: an evil spirit supposed to do violence to women; a\r\nnightmare.\r\n\r\n6. Where he had been hawking after waterfowl. Froissart says\r\nthat any one engaged in this sport \u201calloit en riviere.\u201d\r\n\r\n7. Nice: foolish; French, \u201cniais.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Claw us on the gall:  Scratch us on the sore place.  Compare,\r\n\u201cLet the galled jade wince.\u201d Hamlet iii. 2.\r\n\r\n9. Hele: hide; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201chelan,\u201d to hide, conceal.\r\n\r\n10. Yern: eagerly; German, \u201cgern.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Wiss: instruct; German, \u201cweisen,\u201d to show or counsel.\r\n\r\n12. Dante, \u201cPurgatorio\u201d, vii. 121.\r\n\r\n13. \u201cCantabit vacuus coram latrone viator\u201d \u2014 \u201cSatires,\u201d x. 22.\r\n\r\n14. In a fabulous conference between the Emperor Adrian and\r\nthe philosopher Secundus, reported by Vincent of Beauvais,\r\noccurs the passage which Chaucer here paraphrases: \u2014 \u201cQuid\r\nest Paupertas? Odibile bonum; sanitas mater; remotio Curarum;\r\nsapientae repertrix; negotium sine damno; possessio absque\r\ncalumnia; sine sollicitudinae felicitas.\u201d (What is Poverty? A\r\nhateful good; a mother of health; a putting away of cares;  a\r\ndiscoverer of wisdom; business without injury; ownership\r\nwithout calumny; happiness without anxiety)\r\n\r\n15. Elenge: strange; from French \u201celoigner,\u201d to remove.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE FRIAR\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.<1>\r\n\r\nThis worthy limitour, this noble Frere,\r\nHe made always a manner louring cheer*                      *countenance\r\nUpon the Sompnour; but for honesty*                            *courtesy\r\nNo villain word as yet to him spake he:\r\nBut at the last he said unto the Wife:\r\n\u201cDame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cGod give you right good life,\r\nYe have here touched, all so may I the,*                         *thrive\r\nIn school matter a greate difficulty.\r\nYe have said muche thing right well, I say;\r\nBut, Dame, here as we ride by the way,\r\nUs needeth not but for to speak of game,\r\nAnd leave authorities, in Godde\u2019s name,\r\nTo preaching, and to school eke of clergy.\r\nBut if it like unto this company,\r\nI will you of a Sompnour tell a game;\r\nPardie, ye may well knowe by the name,\r\nThat of a Sompnour may no good be said;\r\nI pray that none of you be *evil paid;*                   *dissatisfied*\r\nA Sompnour is a runner up and down\r\nWith mandements* for fornicatioun,                 *mandates, summonses*\r\nAnd is y-beat at every towne\u2019s end.\u201d\r\nThen spake our Host; \u201cAh, sir, ye should be hend*         *civil, gentle\r\nAnd courteous, as a man of your estate;\r\nIn company we will have no debate:\r\nTell us your tale, and let the Sompnour be.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the Sompnour, \u201clet him say by me\r\nWhat so him list; when it comes to my lot,\r\nBy God, I shall him quiten* every groat!                    *pay him off\r\nI shall him telle what a great honour\r\nIt is to be a flattering limitour\r\nAnd his office I shall him tell y-wis\u201d.\r\nOur Host answered, \u201cPeace, no more of this.\u201d\r\nAnd afterward he said unto the frere,\r\n\u201cTell forth your tale, mine owen master dear.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Friar\u2019s tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. On the Tale of the Friar, and that of the Sompnour which\r\nfollows, Tyrwhitt has remarked that they \u201care well engrafted\r\nupon that of the Wife of Bath. The ill-humour which shows\r\nitself between these two characters is quite natural, as no two\r\nprofessions at that time were at more constant variance.  The\r\nregular clergy, and particularly the mendicant friars, affected a\r\ntotal exemption from all ecclesiastical jurisdiction,  except that\r\nof the Pope, which made them exceedingly obnoxious to the\r\nbishops and of course to all the inferior officers of the national\r\nhierarchy.\u201d Both tales, whatever their origin, are bitter satires\r\non the greed and worldliness of the Romish clergy.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.\r\n\r\nWhilom* there was dwelling in my country                 *once on a time\r\nAn archdeacon, a man of high degree,\r\nThat boldely did execution,\r\nIn punishing of fornication,\r\nOf witchecraft, and eke of bawdery,\r\nOf defamation, and adultery,\r\nOf churche-reeves,* and of testaments,                    *churchwardens\r\nOf contracts, and of lack of sacraments,\r\nAnd eke of many another manner* crime,                          *sort of\r\nWhich needeth not rehearsen at this time,\r\nOf usury, and simony also;\r\nBut, certes, lechours did he greatest woe;\r\nThey shoulde singen, if that they were hent;*                    *caught\r\nAnd smale tithers<1> were foul y-shent,*         *troubled, put to shame\r\nIf any person would on them complain;\r\nThere might astert them no pecunial pain.<2>\r\nFor smalle tithes, and small offering,\r\nHe made the people piteously to sing;\r\nFor ere the bishop caught them with his crook,\r\nThey weren in the archedeacon\u2019s book;\r\nThen had he, through his jurisdiction,\r\nPower to do on them correction.\r\n\r\nHe had a Sompnour ready to his hand,\r\nA slier boy was none in Engleland;\r\nFor subtlely he had his espiaille,*                           *espionage\r\nThat taught him well where it might aught avail.\r\nHe coulde spare of lechours one or two,\r\nTo teache him to four and twenty mo\u2019.\r\nFor, \u2014 though this Sompnour wood* be as a hare, \u2014        *furious, mad\r\nTo tell his harlotry I will not spare,\r\nFor we be out of their correction,\r\nThey have of us no jurisdiction,\r\nNe never shall have, term of all their lives.\r\n\r\n\u201cPeter; so be the women of the stives,\u201d*                          *stews\r\nQuoth this Sompnour, \u201cy-put out of our cure.\u201d*                     *care\r\n\r\n\u201cPeace, with mischance and with misaventure,\u201d\r\nOur Hoste said, \u201cand let him tell his tale.\r\nNow telle forth, and let the Sompnour gale,*              *whistle; bawl\r\nNor spare not, mine owen master dear.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis false thief, the Sompnour (quoth the Frere),\r\nHad always bawdes ready to his hand,\r\nAs any hawk to lure in Engleland,\r\nThat told him all the secrets that they knew, \u2014\r\nFor their acquaintance was not come of new;\r\nThey were his approvers* privily.                             *informers\r\nHe took himself at great profit thereby:\r\nHis master knew not always what he wan.*                            *won\r\nWithoute mandement, a lewed* man                               *ignorant\r\nHe could summon, on pain of Christe\u2019s curse,\r\nAnd they were inly glad to fill his purse,\r\nAnd make him greate feastes at the nale.*                      *alehouse\r\nAnd right as Judas hadde purses smale,*                           *small\r\nAnd was a thief, right such a thief was he,\r\nHis master had but half *his duety.*                *what was owing him*\r\nHe was (if I shall give him his laud)\r\nA thief, and eke a Sompnour, and a bawd.\r\nAnd he had wenches at his retinue,\r\nThat whether that Sir Robert or Sir Hugh,\r\nOr Jack, or Ralph, or whoso that it were\r\nThat lay by them, they told it in his ear.\r\nThus were the wench and he of one assent;\r\nAnd he would fetch a feigned mandement,\r\nAnd to the chapter summon them both two,\r\nAnd pill* the man, and let the wenche go.                *plunder, pluck\r\nThen would he say, \u201cFriend, I shall for thy sake\r\nDo strike thee out of oure letters blake;*                        *black\r\nThee thar* no more as in this case travail;                        *need\r\nI am thy friend where I may thee avail.\u201d\r\nCertain he knew of bribers many mo\u2019\r\nThan possible is to tell in yeare\u2019s two:\r\nFor in this world is no dog for the bow,<3>\r\nThat can a hurt deer from a whole know,\r\nBet* than this Sompnour knew a sly lechour,                      *better\r\nOr an adult\u2019rer, or a paramour:\r\nAnd, for that was the fruit of all his rent,\r\nTherefore on it he set all his intent.\r\n\r\nAnd so befell, that once upon a day.\r\nThis Sompnour, waiting ever on his prey,\r\nRode forth to summon a widow, an old ribibe,<4>\r\nFeigning a cause, for he would have a bribe.\r\nAnd happen\u2019d that he saw before him ride\r\nA gay yeoman under a forest side:\r\nA bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen,\r\nHe had upon a courtepy* of green,                         *short doublet\r\nA hat upon his head with fringes blake.*                          *black\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201chail, and well o\u2019ertake.\u201d\r\n\u201cWelcome,\u201d quoth he, \u201cand every good fellaw;\r\nWhither ridest thou under this green shaw?\u201d*                       shade\r\nSaide this yeoman; \u201cwilt thou far to-day?\u201d\r\nThis Sompnour answer\u2019d him, and saide, \u201cNay.\r\nHere faste by,\u201d quoth he, \u201cis mine intent\r\nTo ride, for to raisen up a rent,\r\nThat longeth to my lorde\u2019s duety.\u201d\r\n\u201cAh! art thou then a bailiff?\u201d \u201cYea,\u201d quoth he.\r\nHe durste not for very filth and shame\r\nSay that he was a Sompnour, for the name.\r\n\u201cDe par dieux,\u201d <5> quoth this yeoman, \u201cleve* brother,             *dear\r\nThou art a bailiff, and I am another.\r\nI am unknowen, as in this country.\r\nOf thine acquaintance I will praye thee,\r\nAnd eke of brotherhood, if that thee list.*                      *please\r\nI have gold and silver lying in my chest;\r\nIf that thee hap to come into our shire,\r\nAll shall be thine, right as thou wilt desire.\u201d\r\n\u201cGrand mercy,\u201d* quoth this Sompnour, \u201cby my faith.\u201d        *great thanks\r\nEach in the other\u2019s hand his trothe lay\u2019th,\r\nFor to be sworne brethren till they dey.*                        *die<6>\r\nIn dalliance they ride forth and play.\r\n\r\nThis Sompnour, which that was as full of jangles,*           *chattering\r\nAs full of venom be those wariangles,*               * butcher-birds <7>\r\nAnd ev\u2019r inquiring upon every thing,\r\n\u201cBrother,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwhere is now your dwelling,\r\nAnother day if that I should you seech?\u201d*                   *seek, visit\r\nThis yeoman him answered in soft speech;\r\nBrother,\u201d quoth he, \u201cfar in the North country,<8>\r\nWhere as I hope some time I shall thee see\r\nEre we depart I shall thee so well wiss,*                        *inform\r\nThat of mine house shalt thou never miss.\u201d\r\nNow, brother,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cI you pray,\r\nTeach me, while that we ride by the way,\r\n(Since that ye be a bailiff as am I,)\r\nSome subtilty, and tell me faithfully\r\nFor mine office how that I most may win.\r\nAnd *spare not* for conscience or for sin,             *conceal nothing*\r\nBut, as my brother, tell me how do ye.\u201d\r\nNow by my trothe, brother mine,\u201d said he,\r\nAs I shall tell to thee a faithful tale:\r\nMy wages be full strait and eke full smale;\r\nMy lord is hard to me and dangerous,*                         *niggardly\r\nAnd mine office is full laborious;\r\nAnd therefore by extortion I live,\r\nForsooth I take all that men will me give.\r\nAlgate* by sleighte, or by violence,                            *whether\r\nFrom year to year I win all my dispence;\r\nI can no better tell thee faithfully.\u201d\r\nNow certes,\u201d quoth this Sompnour,  \u201cso fare* I;                      *do\r\nI spare not to take, God it wot,\r\n*But if* it be too heavy or too hot.                            *unless*\r\nWhat I may get in counsel privily,\r\nNo manner conscience of that have I.\r\nN\u2019ere* mine extortion, I might not live,                *were it not for\r\nFor of such japes* will I not be shrive.**           *tricks **confessed\r\nStomach nor conscience know I none;\r\nI shrew* these shrifte-fathers** every one.          *curse **confessors\r\nWell be we met, by God and by St Jame.\r\nBut, leve brother, tell me then thy name,\u201d\r\nQuoth this Sompnour.  Right in this meane while\r\nThis yeoman gan a little for to smile.\r\n\r\n\u201cBrother,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwilt thou that I thee tell?\r\nI am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell,\r\nAnd here I ride about my purchasing,\r\nTo know where men will give me any thing.\r\n*My purchase is th\u2019 effect of all my rent*        *what I can gain is my\r\nLook how thou ridest for the same intent                   sole revenue*\r\nTo winne good, thou reckest never how,\r\nRight so fare I, for ride will I now\r\nInto the worlde\u2019s ende for a prey.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAh,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cbenedicite! what say y\u2019?\r\nI weened ye were a yeoman truly.                                *thought\r\nYe have a manne\u2019s shape as well as I\r\nHave ye then a figure determinate\r\nIn helle, where ye be in your estate?\u201d*                         *at home\r\n\u201cNay, certainly,\u201d quoth he, there have we none,\r\nBut when us liketh we can take us one,\r\nOr elles make you seem* that we be shape                        *believe\r\nSometime like a man, or like an ape;\r\nOr like an angel can I ride or go;\r\nIt is no wondrous thing though it be so,\r\nA lousy juggler can deceive thee.\r\nAnd pardie, yet can I more craft* than he.\u201d              *skill, cunning\r\n\u201cWhy,\u201d quoth the Sompnour, \u201cride ye then or gon\r\nIn sundry shapes and not always in one?\u201d\r\n\u201cFor we,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwill us in such form make.\r\nAs most is able our prey for to take.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat maketh you to have all this labour?\u201d\r\n\u201cFull many a cause, leve Sir Sompnour,\u201d\r\nSaide this fiend. \u201cBut all thing hath a time;\r\nThe day is short and it is passed prime,\r\nAnd yet have I won nothing in this day;\r\nI will intend* to winning, if I may,                       *apply myself\r\nAnd not intend our thinges to declare:\r\nFor, brother mine, thy wit is all too bare\r\nTo understand, although I told them thee.\r\n*But for* thou askest why laboure we:                          *because*\r\nFor sometimes we be Godde\u2019s instruments\r\nAnd meanes to do his commandements,\r\nWhen that him list, upon his creatures,\r\nIn divers acts and in divers figures:\r\nWithoute him we have no might certain,\r\nIf that him list to stande thereagain.*                      *against it\r\nAnd sometimes, at our prayer have we leave\r\nOnly the body, not the soul, to grieve:\r\nWitness on Job, whom that we did full woe,\r\nAnd sometimes have we might on both the two, \u2014\r\nThis is to say, on soul and body eke,\r\nAnd sometimes be we suffer\u2019d for to seek\r\nUpon a man and do his soul unrest\r\nAnd not his body, and all is for the best,\r\nWhen he withstandeth our temptation,\r\nIt is a cause of his salvation,\r\nAlbeit that it was not our intent\r\nHe should be safe, but that we would him hent.*                   *catch\r\nAnd sometimes be we servants unto man,\r\nAs to the archbishop Saint Dunstan,\r\nAnd to th\u2019apostle servant eke was I.\u201d\r\n\u201cYet tell me,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cfaithfully,\r\nMake ye you newe bodies thus alway\r\nOf th\u2019 elements?\u201d The fiend answered, \u201cNay:\r\nSometimes we feign, and sometimes we arise\r\nWith deade bodies, in full sundry wise,\r\nAnd speak as reas\u2019nably, and fair, and well,\r\nAs to the Pythoness<9> did Samuel:\r\nAnd yet will some men say it was not he.\r\nI *do no force of* your divinity.                    *set no value upon*\r\nBut one thing warn I thee, I will not jape,*                        jest\r\nThou wilt *algates weet* how we be shape:               *assuredly know*\r\nThou shalt hereafterward, my brother dear,\r\nCome, where thee needeth not of me to lear.*                      *learn\r\nFor thou shalt by thine own experience\r\n*Conne in a chair to rede of this sentence,*        *learn to understand\r\nBetter than Virgil, while he was alive,                what I have said*\r\nOr Dante also. <10> Now let us ride blive,*                     *briskly\r\nFor I will holde company with thee,\r\nTill it be so that thou forsake me.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cthat shall ne\u2019er betide.\r\nI am a yeoman, that is known full wide;\r\nMy trothe will I hold, as in this case;\r\nFor though thou wert the devil Satanas,\r\nMy trothe will I hold to thee, my brother,\r\nAs I have sworn, and each of us to other,\r\nFor to be true brethren in this case,\r\nAnd both we go *abouten our purchase.*                  *seeking what we\r\nTake thou thy part, what that men will thee give,           may pick up*\r\nAnd I shall mine, thus may we bothe live.\r\nAnd if that any of us have more than other,\r\nLet him be true, and part it with his brother.\u201d\r\n\u201cI grante,\u201d quoth the devil, \u201cby my fay.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word they rode forth their way,\r\nAnd right at th\u2019ent\u2019ring of the towne\u2019s end,\r\nTo which this Sompnour shope* him for to wend,**            *shaped **go\r\nThey saw a cart, that charged was with hay,\r\nWhich that a carter drove forth on his way.\r\nDeep was the way, for which the carte stood:\r\nThe carter smote, and cried as he were wood,*                       *mad\r\n\u201cHeit Scot! heit Brok! what, spare ye for the stones?\r\nThe fiend (quoth he) you fetch body and bones,\r\nAs farforthly* as ever ye were foal\u2019d,                             *sure\r\nSo muche woe as I have with you tholed.*                   *endured <11>\r\nThe devil have all, horses, and cart, and hay.\u201d\r\nThe Sompnour said, \u201cHere shall we have a prey,\u201d\r\nAnd near the fiend he drew, *as nought ne were,*          *as if nothing\r\nFull privily, and rowned* in his ear:                   were the matter*\r\n\u201cHearken, my brother, hearken, by thy faith,                  *whispered\r\nHearest thou not, how that the carter saith?\r\nHent* it anon, for he hath giv\u2019n it thee,                         *seize\r\nBoth hay and cart, and eke his capels* three.\u201d              *horses <12>\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the devil, \u201cGod wot, never a deal,*                    whit\r\nIt is not his intent, trust thou me well;\r\nAsk him thyself, if thou not trowest* me,                     *believest\r\nOr elles stint* a while and thou shalt see.\u201d                       *stop\r\nThe carter thwack\u2019d his horses on the croup,\r\nAnd they began to drawen and to stoop.\r\n\u201cHeit now,\u201d quoth he; \u201cthere, Jesus Christ you bless,\r\nAnd all his handiwork, both more and less!\r\nThat was well twight,* mine owen liart,** boy,        *pulled **grey<13>\r\nI pray God save thy body, and Saint Loy!\r\nNow is my cart out of the slough, pardie.\u201d\r\n\u201cLo, brother,\u201d quoth the fiend, \u201cwhat told I thee?\r\nHere may ye see, mine owen deare brother,\r\nThe churl spake one thing, but he thought another.\r\nLet us go forth abouten our voyage;\r\nHere win I nothing upon this carriage.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen that they came somewhat out of the town,\r\nThis Sompnour to his brother gan to rown;\r\n\u201cBrother,\u201d quoth he, \u201chere wons* an old rebeck,<14>              *dwells\r\nThat had almost as lief to lose her neck.\r\nAs for to give a penny of her good.\r\nI will have twelvepence, though that she be wood,*                  *mad\r\nOr I will summon her to our office;\r\nAnd yet, God wot, of her know I no vice.\r\nBut for thou canst not, as in this country,\r\nWinne thy cost, take here example of me.\u201d\r\nThis Sompnour clapped at the widow\u2019s gate:\r\n\u201cCome out,\u201d he said, \u201cthou olde very trate;*                  *trot <15>\r\nI trow thou hast some friar or priest with thee.\u201d\r\n\u201cWho clappeth?\u201d said this wife; \u201cbenedicite,\r\nGod save you, Sir, what is your sweete will?\u201d\r\n\u201cI have,\u201d quoth he, \u201cof summons here a bill.\r\nUp* pain of cursing, looke that thou be                            *upon\r\nTo-morrow before our archdeacon\u2019s knee,\r\nTo answer to the court of certain things.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow Lord,\u201d quoth she, \u201cChrist Jesus, king of kings,\r\nSo wis1y* helpe me, *as I not may.*                *surely *as I cannot*\r\nI have been sick, and that full many a day.\r\nI may not go so far,\u201d quoth she, \u201cnor ride,\r\nBut I be dead, so pricketh it my side.\r\nMay I not ask a libel, Sir Sompnour,\r\nAnd answer there by my procuratour\r\nTo such thing as men would appose* me?\u201d                          *accuse\r\n\u201cYes,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cpay anon, let see,\r\nTwelvepence to me, and I will thee acquit.\r\nI shall no profit have thereby but lit:*                         *little\r\nMy master hath the profit and not I.\r\nCome off, and let me ride hastily;\r\nGive me twelvepence, I may no longer tarry.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cTwelvepence!\u201d quoth she; \u201cnow lady Sainte Mary\r\nSo wisly* help me out of care and sin,                           *surely\r\nThis wide world though that I should it win,\r\nNo have I not twelvepence within my hold.\r\nYe know full well that I am poor and old;\r\n*Kithe your almes* upon me poor wretch.\u201d             *show your charity*\r\n\u201cNay then,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthe foule fiend me fetch,\r\nIf I excuse thee, though thou should\u2019st be spilt.\u201d*              *ruined\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201cGod wot, I have no guilt.\u201d\r\n\u201cPay me,\u201d quoth he, \u201cor, by the sweet Saint Anne,\r\nAs I will bear away thy newe pan\r\nFor debte, which thou owest me of old, \u2014\r\nWhen that thou madest thine husband cuckold, \u2014\r\nI paid at home for thy correction.\u201d\r\n\u201cThou liest,\u201d quoth she, \u201cby my salvation;\r\nNever was I ere now, widow or wife,\r\nSummon\u2019d unto your court in all my life;\r\nNor never I was but of my body true.\r\nUnto the devil rough and black of hue\r\nGive I thy body and my pan also.\u201d\r\nAnd when the devil heard her curse so\r\nUpon her knees, he said in this mannere;\r\n\u201cNow, Mabily, mine owen mother dear,\r\nIs this your will in earnest that ye say?\u201d\r\n\u201cThe devil,\u201d quoth she, \u201cso fetch him ere he dey,*                  *die\r\nAnd pan and all, but* he will him repent.\u201d                       *unless\r\n\u201cNay, olde stoat,* that is not mine intent,\u201d                    *polecat\r\nQuoth this Sompnour, \u201cfor to repente me\r\nFor any thing that I have had of thee;\r\nI would I had thy smock and every cloth.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, brother,\u201d quoth the devil, \u201cbe not wroth;\r\nThy body and this pan be mine by right.\r\nThou shalt with me to helle yet tonight,\r\nWhere thou shalt knowen of our privity*                         *secrets\r\nMore than a master of divinity.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word the foule fiend him hent.*                    *seized\r\nBody and soul, he with the devil went,\r\nWhere as the Sompnours have their heritage;\r\nAnd God, that maked after his image\r\nMankinde, save and guide us all and some,\r\nAnd let this Sompnour a good man become.\r\nLordings, I could have told you (quoth this Frere),\r\nHad I had leisure for this Sompnour here,\r\nAfter the text of Christ, and Paul, and John,\r\nAnd of our other doctors many a one,\r\nSuch paines, that your heartes might agrise,*              *be horrified\r\nAlbeit so, that no tongue may devise,* \u2014                        *relate\r\nThough that I might a thousand winters tell, \u2014\r\nThe pains of thilke* cursed house of hell                          *that\r\nBut for to keep us from that cursed place\r\nWake we, and pray we Jesus, of his grace,\r\nSo keep us from the tempter, Satanas.\r\nHearken this word, beware as in this case.\r\nThe lion sits *in his await* alway                   *on the watch* <16>\r\nTo slay the innocent, if that he may.\r\nDisposen aye your heartes to withstond\r\nThe fiend that would you make thrall and bond;\r\nHe may not tempte you over your might,\r\nFor Christ will be your champion and your knight;\r\nAnd pray, that this our Sompnour him repent\r\nOf his misdeeds ere that the fiend him hent.*                     *seize\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Friar\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Small tithers:  people who did not pay their full tithes.  Mr\r\nWright remarks that \u201cthe sermons of the friars in the fourteenth\r\ncentury were most frequently designed to impress the ahsolute\r\nduty of paying full tithes and offerings\u201d.\r\n\r\n2. There might astert them no pecunial pain: they got off with\r\nno mere pecuniary punishment. (Transcriber\u2019s note: \u201cAstert\u201d\r\nmeans \u201cescape\u201d.  An alternative reading of this line is \u201cthere\r\nmight astert him no pecunial pain\u201d i.e. no fine ever escaped him\r\n(the archdeacon))\r\n\r\n3. A dog for the bow:  a dog attending a huntsman with bow\r\nand arrow.\r\n\r\n4. Ribibe: the name of a musical instrument; applied to an old\r\nwoman because of the shrillness of her voice.\r\n\r\n5. De par dieux: by the gods.\r\n\r\n6. See note 12 to the Knight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n7. Wariangles: butcher-birds; which are very noisy and\r\nravenous, and tear in pieces the birds on which they prey; the\r\nthorn on which they do this was said to become poisonous.\r\n\r\n8. Medieval legends located hell in the North.\r\n\r\n9. The Pythoness: the witch, or woman, possesed with a\r\nprophesying spirit; from the Greek, \u201cPythia.\u201d  Chaucer of\r\ncourse refers to the raising of Samuel\u2019s spirit by the witch of\r\nEndor.\r\n\r\n10. Dante and Virgil were both poets who had in fancy visited\r\nHell.\r\n\r\n11. Tholed: suffered, endured; \u201cthole\u201d is still used in Scotland in\r\nthe same sense.\r\n\r\n12. Capels: horses. See note 14 to the Reeve\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n13. Liart: grey; elsewhere applied by Chaucer to the hairs of an\r\nold man. So Burns, in the \u201cCotter\u2019s Saturday Night,\u201d speaks of\r\nthe gray temples of \u201cthe sire\u201d \u2014 \u201cHis lyart haffets wearing thin\r\nand bare.\u201d\r\n\r\n14. Rebeck: a kind of fiddle; used like \u201cribibe,\u201d as a nickname\r\nfor a shrill old scold.\r\n\r\n15. Trot; a contemptuous term for an old woman who has\r\ntrotted about much, or who moves with quick short steps.\r\n\r\n16. In his await: on the watch; French, \u201caux aguets.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE SOMPNOUR\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nThe Sompnour in his stirrups high he stood,\r\nUpon this Friar his hearte was so wood,*                        *furious\r\nThat like an aspen leaf he quoke* for ire:             *quaked, trembled\r\n\u201cLordings,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbut one thing I desire;\r\nI you beseech, that of your courtesy,\r\nSince ye have heard this false Friar lie,\r\nAs suffer me I may my tale tell\r\nThis Friar boasteth that he knoweth hell,\r\nAnd, God it wot, that is but little wonder,\r\nFriars and fiends be but little asunder.\r\nFor, pardie, ye have often time heard tell,\r\nHow that a friar ravish\u2019d was to hell\r\nIn spirit ones by a visioun,\r\nAnd, as an angel led him up and down,\r\nTo shew him all the paines that there were,\r\nIn all the place saw he not a frere;\r\nOf other folk he saw enough in woe.\r\nUnto the angel spake the friar tho;*                               *then\r\n\u2018Now, Sir,\u2019 quoth he, \u2018have friars such a grace,\r\nThat none of them shall come into this place?\u2019\r\n\u2018Yes\u2019 quoth the angel; \u2018many a millioun:\u2019\r\nAnd unto Satanas he led him down.\r\n\u2018And now hath Satanas,\u2019 said he, \u2018a tail\r\nBroader than of a carrack<1> is the sail.\r\nHold up thy tail, thou Satanas,\u2019 quoth he,\r\n\u2018Shew forth thine erse, and let the friar see\r\nWhere is the nest of friars in this place.\u2019\r\nAnd *less than half a furlong way of space*            *immediately* <2>\r\nRight so as bees swarmen out of a hive,\r\nOut of the devil\u2019s erse there gan to drive\r\nA twenty thousand friars *on a rout.*                       *in a crowd*\r\nAnd throughout hell they swarmed all about,\r\nAnd came again, as fast as they may gon,\r\nAnd in his erse they creeped every one:\r\nHe clapt his tail again, and lay full still.\r\nThis friar, when he looked had his fill\r\nUpon the torments of that sorry place,\r\nHis spirit God restored of his grace\r\nInto his body again, and he awoke;\r\nBut natheless for feare yet he quoke,\r\nSo was the devil\u2019s erse aye in his mind;\r\nThat is his heritage, *of very kind*                *by his very nature*\r\nGod save you alle, save this cursed Frere;\r\nMy prologue will I end in this mannere.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Sompnour\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Carrack: A great ship of burden used by the Portuguese; the\r\nname is from the Italian, \u201ccargare,\u201d to load\r\n\r\n2. In less than half a furlong way of space: immediately;\r\nliterally, in less time than it takes to walk half a furlong (110\r\nyards).\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.\r\n\r\nLordings, there is in Yorkshire, as I guess,\r\nA marshy country called Holderness,\r\nIn which there went a limitour about\r\nTo preach, and eke to beg, it is no doubt.\r\nAnd so befell that on a day this frere\r\nHad preached at a church in his mannere,\r\nAnd specially, above every thing,\r\nExcited he the people in his preaching\r\nTo trentals, <1> and to give, for Godde\u2019s sake,\r\nWherewith men mighte holy houses make,\r\nThere as divine service is honour\u2019d,\r\nNot there as it is wasted and devour\u2019d,\r\nNor where it needeth not for to be given,\r\nAs to possessioners, <2> that may liven,\r\nThanked be God, in wealth and abundance.\r\n\u201cTrentals,\u201d said he, \u201cdeliver from penance\r\nTheir friendes\u2019 soules, as well old as young,\r\nYea, when that they be hastily y-sung, \u2014\r\nNot for to hold a priest jolly and gay,\r\nHe singeth not but one mass in a day.\r\n\u201cDeliver out,\u201d quoth he, \u201canon the souls.\r\nFull hard it is, with flesh-hook or with owls*                     *awls\r\nTo be y-clawed, or to burn or bake: <3>\r\nNow speed you hastily, for Christe\u2019s sake.\u201d\r\nAnd when this friar had said all his intent,\r\nWith qui cum patre<4> forth his way he went,\r\nWhen folk in church had giv\u2019n him what them lest;*              *pleased\r\nHe went his way, no longer would he rest,\r\nWith scrip and tipped staff, *y-tucked high:*      *with his robe tucked\r\nIn every house he gan to pore* and pry,                   up high* *peer\r\nAnd begged meal and cheese, or elles corn.\r\nHis fellow had a staff tipped with horn,\r\nA pair of tables* all of ivory,                         *writing tablets\r\nAnd a pointel* y-polish\u2019d fetisly,**                  *pencil **daintily\r\nAnd wrote alway the names, as he stood;\r\nOf all the folk that gave them any good,\r\nAskaunce* that he woulde for them pray.                    *see note <5>\r\n\u201cGive us a bushel wheat, or malt, or rey,*                          *rye\r\nA Godde\u2019s kichel,* or a trip** of cheese,        *little cake<6> **scrap\r\nOr elles what you list, we may not chese;*                       *choose\r\nA Godde\u2019s halfpenny, <6> or a mass penny;\r\nOr give us of your brawn, if ye have any;\r\nA dagon* of your blanket, leve dame,                            *remnant\r\nOur sister dear, \u2014 lo, here I write your name,\u2014\r\nBacon or beef, or such thing as ye find.\u201d\r\nA sturdy harlot* went them aye behind,                   *manservant <7>\r\nThat was their hoste\u2019s man, and bare a sack,\r\nAnd what men gave them, laid it on his back\r\nAnd when that he was out at door, anon\r\nHe *planed away* the names every one,                       *rubbed out*\r\nThat he before had written in his tables:\r\nHe served them with nifles* and with fables. \u2014             *silly tales\r\n\r\n\u201cNay, there thou liest, thou Sompnour,\u201d quoth the Frere.\r\n\u201cPeace,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201cfor Christe\u2019s mother dear;\r\nTell forth thy tale, and spare it not at all.\u201d\r\n\u201cSo thrive I,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cso I shall.\u201d \u2014\r\n\r\nSo long he went from house to house, till he\r\nCame to a house, where he was wont to be\r\nRefreshed more than in a hundred places\r\nSick lay the husband man, whose that the place is,\r\nBed-rid upon a couche low he lay:\r\n*\u201cDeus hic,\u201d* quoth he; \u201cO Thomas friend, good day,\u201d       *God be here*\r\nSaid this friar, all courteously and soft.\r\n\u201cThomas,\u201d quoth he, \u201cGod *yield it you,* full oft       *reward you for*\r\nHave I upon this bench fared full well,\r\nHere have I eaten many a merry meal.\u201d\r\nAnd from the bench he drove away the cat,\r\nAnd laid adown his potent* and his hat,                       *staff <8>\r\nAnd eke his scrip, and sat himself adown:\r\nHis fellow was y-walked into town\r\nForth with his knave,* into that hostelry                       *servant\r\nWhere as he shope* him that night to lie.              *shaped, purposed\r\n\r\n\u201cO deare master,\u201d quoth this sicke man,\r\n\u201cHow have ye fared since that March began?\r\nI saw you not this fortenight and more.\u201d\r\n\u201cGod wot,\u201d quoth he, \u201clabour\u2019d have I full sore;\r\nAnd specially for thy salvation\r\nHave I said many a precious orison,\r\nAnd for mine other friendes, God them bless.\r\nI have this day been at your church at mess,*                      *mass\r\nAnd said sermon after my simple wit,\r\nNot all after the text of Holy Writ;\r\nFor it is hard to you, as I suppose,\r\nAnd therefore will I teach you aye the glose.*           *gloss, comment\r\nGlosing is a full glorious thing certain,\r\nFor letter slayeth, as we clerkes* sayn.                       *scholars\r\nThere have I taught them to be charitable,\r\nAnd spend their good where it is reasonable.\r\nAnd there I saw our dame; where is she?\u201d\r\n\u201cYonder I trow that in the yard she be,\u201d\r\nSaide this man; \u201cand she will come anon.\u201d\r\n\u201cHey master, welcome be ye by Saint John,\u201d\r\nSaide this wife; \u201chow fare ye heartily?\u201d\r\n\r\nThis friar riseth up full courteously,\r\nAnd her embraceth *in his armes narrow,*                        *closely\r\nAnd kiss\u2019th her sweet, and chirketh as a sparrow\r\nWith his lippes: \u201cDame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cright well,\r\nAs he that is your servant every deal.*                            *whit\r\nThanked be God, that gave you soul and life,\r\nYet saw I not this day so fair a wife\r\nIn all the churche, God so save me,\u201d\r\n\u201cYea, God amend defaultes, Sir,\u201d quoth she;\r\n\u201cAlgates* welcome be ye, by my fay.\u201d                             *always\r\n\u201cGrand mercy, Dame; that have I found alway.\r\nBut of your greate goodness, by your leave,\r\nI woulde pray you that ye not you grieve,\r\nI will with Thomas speak *a little throw:*              *a little while*\r\nThese curates be so negligent and slow\r\nTo grope tenderly a conscience.\r\nIn shrift* and preaching is my diligence                     *confession\r\nAnd study in Peter\u2019s wordes and in Paul\u2019s;\r\nI walk and fishe Christian menne\u2019s souls,\r\nTo yield our Lord Jesus his proper rent;\r\nTo spread his word is alle mine intent.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow by your faith, O deare Sir,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cChide him right well, for sainte charity.\r\nHe is aye angry as is a pismire,*                                   *ant\r\nThough that he have all that he can desire,\r\nThough I him wrie* at night, and make him warm,                   *cover\r\nAnd ov\u2019r him lay my leg and eke mine arm,\r\nHe groaneth as our boar that lies in sty:\r\nOther disport of him right none have I,\r\nI may not please him in no manner case.\u201d\r\n\u201cO Thomas, *je vous dis,* Thomas, Thomas,                   *I tell you*\r\nThis *maketh the fiend,* this must be amended.     *is the devil\u2019s work*\r\nIre is a thing that high God hath defended,*                  *forbidden\r\nAnd thereof will I speak a word or two.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, master,\u201d quoth the wife, \u201cere that I go,\r\nWhat will ye dine? I will go thereabout.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, Dame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cje vous dis sans doute, <9>\r\nHad I not of a capon but the liver,\r\nAnd of your white bread not but a shiver,*                   *thin slice\r\nAnd after that a roasted pigge\u2019s head,\r\n(But I would that for me no beast were dead,)\r\nThen had I with you homely suffisance.\r\nI am a man of little sustenance.\r\nMy spirit hath its fost\u2019ring in the Bible.\r\nMy body is aye so ready and penible*                        *painstaking\r\nTo wake,* that my stomach is destroy\u2019d.                           *watch\r\nI pray you, Dame, that ye be not annoy\u2019d,\r\nThough I so friendly you my counsel shew;\r\nBy God, I would have told it but to few.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, Sir,\u201d quoth she, \u201cbut one word ere I go;\r\nMy child is dead within these weeke\u2019s two,\r\nSoon after that ye went out of this town.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cHis death saw I by revelatioun,\u201d\r\nSaid this friar, \u201cat home in our dortour.*               *dormitory <10>\r\nI dare well say, that less than half an hour\r\nMter his death, I saw him borne to bliss\r\nIn mine vision, so God me wiss.*                                 *direct\r\nSo did our sexton, and our fermerere,*                 *infirmary-keeper\r\nThat have been true friars fifty year, \u2014\r\nThey may now, God be thanked of his love,\r\nMake their jubilee, and walk above.<12>\r\nAnd up I rose, and all our convent eke,\r\nWith many a teare trilling on my cheek,\r\nWithoute noise or clattering of bells,\r\nTe Deum was our song, and nothing else,\r\nSave that to Christ I bade an orison,\r\nThanking him of my revelation.\r\nFor, Sir and Dame, truste me right well,\r\nOur orisons be more effectuel,\r\nAnd more we see of Christe\u2019s secret things,\r\nThan *borel folk,* although that they be kings.             *laymen*<13>\r\nWe live in povert\u2019, and in abstinence,\r\nAnd borel folk in riches and dispence\r\nOf meat and drink, and in their foul delight.\r\nWe have this worlde\u2019s lust* all in despight**      * pleasure **contempt\r\nLazar and Dives lived diversely,\r\nAnd diverse guerdon* hadde they thereby.                         *reward\r\nWhoso will pray, he must fast and be clean,\r\nAnd fat his soul, and keep his body lean\r\nWe fare as saith th\u2019 apostle; cloth* and food                  *clothing\r\nSuffice us, although they be not full good.\r\nThe cleanness and the fasting of us freres\r\nMaketh that Christ accepteth our prayeres.\r\nLo, Moses forty days and forty night\r\nFasted, ere that the high God full of might\r\nSpake with him in the mountain of Sinai:\r\nWith empty womb* of fasting many a day                          *stomach\r\nReceived he the lawe, that was writ\r\nWith Godde\u2019s finger; and Eli,<14> well ye wit,*                    *know\r\nIn Mount Horeb, ere he had any speech\r\nWith highe God, that is our live\u2019s leech,*            *physician, healer\r\nHe fasted long, and was in contemplance.\r\nAaron, that had the temple in governance,\r\nAnd eke the other priestes every one,\r\nInto the temple when they shoulde gon\r\nTo praye for the people, and do service,\r\nThey woulde drinken in no manner wise\r\nNo drinke, which that might them drunken make,\r\nBut there in abstinence pray and wake,\r\nLest that they died: take heed what I say \u2014\r\nBut* they be sober that for the people pray \u2014                   *unless\r\nWare that, I say \u2014 no more: for it sufficeth.\r\nOur Lord Jesus, as Holy Writ deviseth,*                        *narrates\r\nGave us example of fasting and prayeres:\r\nTherefore we mendicants, we sely* freres,                 *simple, lowly\r\nBe wedded to povert\u2019 and continence,\r\nTo charity, humbless, and abstinence,\r\nTo persecution for righteousness,\r\nTo weeping, misericorde,* and to cleanness.                  *compassion\r\nAnd therefore may ye see that our prayeres\r\n(I speak of us, we mendicants, we freres),\r\nBe to the highe God more acceptable\r\nThan youres, with your feastes at your table.\r\nFrom Paradise first, if I shall not lie,\r\nWas man out chased for his gluttony,\r\nAnd chaste was man in Paradise certain.\r\nBut hark now, Thomas, what I shall thee sayn;\r\nI have no text of it, as I suppose,\r\nBut I shall find it in *a manner glose;*             *a kind of comment*\r\nThat specially our sweet Lord Jesus\r\nSpake this of friars, when he saide thus,\r\n\u2018Blessed be they that poor in spirit be\u2019\r\nAnd so forth all the gospel may ye see,\r\nWhether it be liker our profession,\r\nOr theirs that swimmen in possession;\r\nFy on their pomp, and on their gluttony,\r\nAnd on their lewedness!  I them defy.\r\nMe thinketh they be like Jovinian,<15>\r\nFat as a whale, and walking as a swan;\r\nAll vinolent* as bottle in the spence;**      *full of wine **store-room\r\nTheir prayer is of full great reverence;\r\nWhen they for soules say the Psalm of David,\r\nLo, \u2018Buf\u2019 they say, Cor meum eructavit.<16>\r\nWho follow Christe\u2019s gospel and his lore*                      *doctrine\r\nBut we, that humble be, and chaste, and pore,*                     *poor\r\nWorkers of Godde\u2019s word, not auditours?*                        *hearers\r\nTherefore right as a hawk *upon a sours*                        *rising*\r\nUp springs into the air, right so prayeres\r\nOf charitable and chaste busy freres\r\n*Make their sours* to Godde\u2019s eares two.                          *rise*\r\nThomas, Thomas, so may I ride or go,\r\nAnd by that lord that called is Saint Ive,\r\n*N\u2019ere thou our brother, shouldest thou not thrive;*    *see note  <17>*\r\nIn our chapiter pray we day and night\r\nTo Christ, that he thee sende health and might,\r\nThy body for to *wielde hastily.*          *soon be able to move freely*\r\n\r\n\u201cGod wot,\u201d quoth he, \u201cnothing thereof feel I;\r\nSo help me Christ, as I in fewe years\r\nHave spended upon *divers manner freres*       *friars of various sorts*\r\nFull many a pound, yet fare I ne\u2019er the bet;*                    *better\r\nCertain my good have I almost beset:*                             *spent\r\nFarewell my gold, for it is all ago.\u201d*                             *gone\r\nThe friar answer\u2019d, \u201cO Thomas, dost thou so?\r\nWhat needest thou diverse friars to seech?*                        *seek\r\nWhat needeth him that hath a perfect leech,*                     *healer\r\nTo seeken other leeches in the town?\r\nYour inconstance is your confusioun.\r\nHold ye then me, or elles our convent,\r\nTo praye for you insufficient?\r\nThomas, that jape* it is not worth a mite;                         *jest\r\nYour malady is *for we have too lite.*                  *because we have\r\nAh, give that convent half a quarter oats;                   too little*\r\nAnd give that convent four and twenty groats;\r\nAnd give that friar a penny, and let him go!\r\nNay, nay, Thomas, it may no thing be so.\r\nWhat is a farthing worth parted on twelve?\r\nLo, each thing that is oned* in himselve               *made one, united\r\nIs more strong than when it is y-scatter\u2019d.\r\nThomas, of me thou shalt not be y-flatter\u2019d,\r\nThou wouldest have our labour all for nought.\r\nThe highe God, that all this world hath wrought,\r\nSaith, that the workman worthy is his hire\r\nThomas, nought of your treasure I desire\r\nAs for myself, but that all our convent\r\nTo pray for you is aye so diligent:\r\nAnd for to builde Christe\u2019s owen church.\r\nThomas, if ye will learne for to wirch,*                           *work\r\nOf building up of churches may ye find\r\nIf it be good, in Thomas\u2019 life of Ind.<18>\r\nYe lie here full of anger and of ire,\r\nWith which the devil sets your heart on fire,\r\nAnd chide here this holy innocent\r\nYour wife, that is so meek and patient.\r\nAnd therefore trow* me, Thomas, if thee lest,**        *believe **please\r\nNe strive not with thy wife, as for the best.\r\nAnd bear this word away now, by thy faith,\r\nTouching such thing, lo, what the wise man saith:\r\n\u2018Within thy house be thou no lion;\r\nTo thy subjects do none oppression;\r\nNor make thou thine acquaintance for to flee.\u2019\r\nAnd yet, Thomas, eftsoones* charge I thee,                        *again\r\nBeware from ire that in thy bosom sleeps,\r\nWare from the serpent, that so slily creeps\r\nUnder the grass, and stingeth subtilly.\r\nBeware, my son, and hearken patiently,\r\nThat twenty thousand men have lost their lives\r\nFor striving with their lemans* and their wives.             *mistresses\r\nNow since ye have so holy and meek a wife,\r\nWhat needeth you, Thomas, to make strife?\r\nThere is, y-wis,* no serpent so cruel,                        *certainly\r\nWhen men tread on his tail nor half so fell,*                    *fierce\r\nAs woman is, when she hath caught an ire;\r\nVery* vengeance is then all her desire.                      *pure, only\r\nIre is a sin, one of the greate seven,\r\nAbominable to the God of heaven,\r\nAnd to himself it is destruction.\r\nThis every lewed* vicar and parson                             *ignorant\r\nCan say, how ire engenders homicide;\r\nIre is in sooth th\u2019 executor* of pride.                     *executioner\r\nI could of ire you say so muche sorrow,\r\nMy tale shoulde last until to-morrow.\r\nAnd therefore pray I God both day and ight,\r\nAn irous* man God send him little might.                     *passionate\r\nIt is great harm, and certes great pity\r\nTo set an irous man in high degree.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhilom* there was an irous potestate,**               *once **judge<19>\r\nAs saith Senec, that during his estate*                  *term of office\r\nUpon a day out rode knightes two;\r\nAnd, as fortune would that it were so,\r\nThe one of them came home, the other not.\r\nAnon the knight before the judge is brought,\r\nThat saide thus; \u2018Thou hast thy fellow slain,\r\nFor which I doom thee to the death certain.\u2019\r\nAnd to another knight commanded he;\r\n\u2018Go, lead him to the death, I charge thee.\u2019\r\nAnd happened, as they went by the way\r\nToward the place where as he should dey,*                           *die\r\nThe knight came, which men weened* had been dead                *thought\r\nThen thoughte they it was the beste rede*                       *counsel\r\nTo lead them both unto the judge again.\r\nThey saide, \u2018Lord, the knight hath not y-slain\r\nHis fellow; here he standeth whole alive.\u2019\r\n\u2018Ye shall be dead,\u2019 quoth he, \u2018so may I thrive,\r\nThat is to say, both one, and two, and three.\u2019\r\nAnd to the firste knight right thus spake he:\r\n\u2018I damned thee, thou must algate* be dead:                *at all events\r\nAnd thou also must needes lose thine head,\r\nFor thou the cause art why thy fellow dieth.\u2019\r\nAnd to the thirde knight right thus he sayeth,\r\n\u2018Thou hast not done that I commanded thee.\u2019\r\nAnd thus he did do slay them alle three.\r\n\r\nIrous Cambyses was eke dronkelew,*                           *a drunkard\r\nAnd aye delighted him to be a shrew.*             *vicious, ill-tempered\r\nAnd so befell, a lord of his meinie,*                             *suite\r\nThat loved virtuous morality,\r\nSaid on a day betwixt them two right thus:\r\n\u2018A lord is lost, if he be vicious.\r\n[An irous man is like a frantic beast,\r\nIn which there is of wisdom *none arrest*;]                 *no control*\r\nAnd drunkenness is eke a foul record\r\nOf any man, and namely* of a lord.                           *especially\r\nThere is full many an eye and many an ear\r\n*Awaiting on* a lord, he knows not where.                      *watching\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, drink more attemperly:*                   *temperately\r\nWine maketh man to lose wretchedly\r\nHis mind, and eke his limbes every one.\u2019\r\n\u2018The reverse shalt thou see,\u2019 quoth he, \u2018anon,\r\nAnd prove it by thine own experience,\r\nThat wine doth to folk no such offence.\r\nThere is no wine bereaveth me my might\r\nOf hand, nor foot, nor of mine eyen sight.\u2019\r\nAnd for despite he dranke muche more\r\nA hundred part* than he had done before,                          *times\r\nAnd right anon this cursed irous wretch\r\nThis knighte\u2019s sone let* before him fetch,                       *caused\r\nCommanding him he should before him stand:\r\nAnd suddenly he took his bow in hand,\r\nAnd up the string he pulled to his ear,\r\nAnd with an arrow slew the child right there.\r\n\u2018Now whether have I a sicker* hand or non?\u2019**                *sure **not\r\nQuoth he; \u2018Is all my might and mind agone?\r\nHath wine bereaved me mine eyen sight?\u2019\r\nWhy should I tell the answer of the knight?\r\nHis son was slain, there is no more to say.\r\nBeware therefore with lordes how ye play,*                  *use freedom\r\nSing placebo;<20> and I shall if I can,\r\n*But if* it be unto a poore man:                                 *unless\r\nTo a poor man men should his vices tell,\r\nBut not t\u2019 a lord, though he should go to hell.\r\nLo, irous Cyrus, thilke* Persian,                                  *that\r\nHow he destroy\u2019d the river of Gisen,<21>\r\nFor that a horse of his was drowned therein,\r\nWhen that he wente Babylon to win:\r\nHe made that the river was so small,\r\nThat women mighte wade it *over all.*                        *everywhere\r\nLo, what said he, that so well teache can,\r\n\u2018Be thou no fellow to an irous man,\r\nNor with no wood* man walke by the way,                         *furious\r\nLest thee repent;\u2019 I will no farther say.\r\n\r\n\u201cNow, Thomas, leve* brother, leave thine ire,                      *dear\r\nThou shalt me find as just as is as squire;\r\nHold not the devil\u2019s knife aye at thine heaat;\r\nThine anger doth thee all too sore smart;*                         *pain\r\nBut shew to me all thy confession.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the sicke man, \u201cby Saint Simon\r\nI have been shriven* this day of my curate;                   *confessed\r\nI have him told all wholly mine estate.\r\nNeedeth no more to speak of it, saith he,\r\nBut if me list of mine humility.\u201d\r\n\u201cGive me then of thy good to make our cloister,\u201d\r\nQuoth he, \u201cfor many a mussel and many an oyster,\r\nWhen other men have been full well at ease,\r\nHath been our food, our cloister for to rese:*             *raise, build\r\nAnd yet, God wot, unneth* the foundement**        *scarcely **foundation\r\nPerformed is, nor of our pavement\r\nIs not a tile yet within our wones:*                         *habitation\r\nBy God, we owe forty pound for stones.\r\nNow help, Thomas, for *him that harrow\u2019d hell,*             *Christ <22>\r\nFor elles must we oure bookes sell,\r\nAnd if ye lack our predication,\r\nThen goes this world all to destruction.\r\nFor whoso from this world would us bereave,\r\nSo God me save, Thomas, by your leave,\r\nHe would bereave out of this world the sun\r\nFor who can teach and worken as we conne?*               *know how to do\r\nAnd that is not of little time (quoth he),\r\nBut since Elijah was, and Elisee,*                               *Elisha\r\nHave friars been, that find I of record,\r\nIn charity, y-thanked be our Lord.\r\nNow, Thomas, help for sainte charity.\u201d\r\nAnd down anon he set him on his knee,\r\nThe sick man waxed well-nigh wood* for ire,                         *mad\r\nHe woulde that the friar had been a-fire\r\nWith his false dissimulation.\r\n\u201cSuch thing as is in my possession,\u201d\r\nQuoth he, \u201cthat may I give you and none other:\r\nYe say me thus, how that I am your brother.\u201d\r\n\u201cYea, certes,\u201d quoth this friar, \u201cyea, truste well;\r\nI took our Dame the letter of our seal\u201d<23>\r\n\u201cNow well,\u201d quoth he, \u201cand somewhat shall I give\r\nUnto your holy convent while I live;\r\nAnd in thine hand thou shalt it have anon,\r\nOn this condition, and other none,\r\nThat thou depart* it so, my deare brother,                       *divide\r\nThat every friar have as much as other:\r\nThis shalt thou swear on thy profession,\r\nWithoute fraud or cavillation.\u201d*                              *quibbling\r\n\u201cI swear it,\u201d quoth the friar, \u201cupon my faith.\u201d\r\nAnd therewithal his hand in his he lay\u2019th;\r\n\u201cLo here my faith, in me shall be no lack.\u201d\r\n\u201cThen put thine hand adown right by my back,\u201d\r\nSaide this man, \u201cand grope well behind,\r\nBeneath my buttock, there thou shalt find\r\nA thing, that I have hid in privity.\u201d\r\n\u201cAh,\u201d thought this friar, \u201cthat shall go with me.\u201d\r\nAnd down his hand he launched to the clift,*                      *cleft\r\nIn hope for to finde there a gift.\r\nAnd when this sicke man felte this frere\r\nAbout his taile groping there and here,\r\nAmid his hand he let the friar a fart;\r\nThere is no capel* drawing in a cart,                             *horse\r\nThat might have let a fart of such a soun\u2019.\r\nThe friar up start, as doth a wood* lioun:                       *fierce\r\n\u201cAh, false churl,\u201d quoth he, \u201cfor Godde\u2019s bones,\r\nThis hast thou in despite done for the nones:*               *on purpose\r\nThou shalt abie* this fart, if that I may.\u201d                  *suffer for\r\nHis meinie,* which that heard of this affray,                  *servants\r\nCame leaping in, and chased out the frere,\r\nAnd forth he went with a full angry cheer*                  *countenance\r\nAnd fetch\u2019d his fellow, there as lay his store:\r\nHe looked as it were a wilde boar,\r\nAnd grounde with his teeth, so was he wroth.\r\nA sturdy pace down to the court he go\u2019th,\r\nWhere as there wonn\u2019d* a man of great honour,                     *dwelt\r\nTo whom that he was always confessour:\r\nThis worthy man was lord of that village.\r\nThis friar came, as he were in a rage,\r\nWhere as this lord sat eating at his board:\r\nUnnethes* might the friar speak one word,               *with difficulty\r\nTill at the last he saide, \u201cGod you see.\u201d*                         *save\r\n\r\nThis lord gan look, and said, \u201cBen\u2019dicite!\r\nWhat? Friar John, what manner world is this?\r\nI see well that there something is amiss;\r\nYe look as though the wood were full of thieves.\r\nSit down anon, and tell me what your grieve* is,       *grievance, grief\r\nAnd it shall be amended, if I may.\u201d\r\n\u201cI have,\u201d quoth he, \u201chad a despite to-day,\r\nGod *yielde you,* adown in your village,                     *reward you\r\nThat in this world is none so poor a page,\r\nThat would not have abominatioun\r\nOf that I have received in your town:\r\nAnd yet ne grieveth me nothing so sore,\r\nAs that the olde churl, with lockes hoar,\r\nBlasphemed hath our holy convent eke.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, master,\u201d quoth this lord, \u201cI you beseek\u201d \u2014\r\n\u201cNo master, Sir,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbut servitour,\r\nThough I have had in schoole that honour. <24>\r\nGod liketh not, that men us Rabbi call\r\nNeither in market, nor in your large hall.\u201d\r\n*\u201cNo force,\u201d* quoth he; \u201cbut tell me all your grief.\u201d        *no matter*\r\nSir,\u201d quoth this friar, \u201can odious mischief\r\nThis day betid* is to mine order and me,                       *befallen\r\nAnd so par consequence to each degree\r\nOf holy churche, God amend it soon.\u201d\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth the lord, \u201cye know what is to doon:*                    *do\r\n*Distemp\u2019r you not,* ye be my confessour.             *be not impatient*\r\nYe be the salt of th\u2019 earth, and the savour;\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love your patience now hold;\r\nTell me your grief.\u201d And he anon him told\r\nAs ye have heard before, ye know well what.\r\nThe lady of the house aye stiller sat,\r\nTill she had hearde what the friar said,\r\n\u201cHey, Godde\u2019s mother;\u201d quoth she, \u201cblissful maid,\r\nIs there ought elles? tell me faithfully.\u201d\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth he, \u201chow thinketh you thereby?\u201d\r\n\u201cHow thinketh me?\u201d quoth she; \u201cso God me speed,\r\nI say, a churl hath done a churlish deed,\r\nWhat should I say?  God let him never the;*                      *thrive\r\nHis sicke head is full of vanity;\r\nI hold him in *a manner phrenesy.\u201d*                   *a sort of frenzy*\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cby God, I shall not lie,\r\nBut I in other wise may be awreke,*                            *revenged\r\nI shall defame him *ov\u2019r all there* I speak;                   *wherever\r\nThis false blasphemour, that charged me\r\nTo parte that will not departed be,\r\nTo every man alike, with mischance.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe lord sat still, as he were in a trance,\r\nAnd in his heart he rolled up and down,\r\n\u201cHow had this churl imaginatioun\r\nTo shewe such a problem to the frere.\r\nNever ere now heard I of such mattere;\r\nI trow* the Devil put it in his mind.                           *believe\r\nIn all arsmetrik* shall there no man find,                   *arithmetic\r\nBefore this day, of such a question.\r\nWho shoulde make a demonstration,\r\nThat every man should have alike his part\r\nAs of the sound and savour of a fart?\r\nO nice* proude churl, I shrew** his face.               *foolish **curse\r\nLo, Sires,\u201d quoth the lord, \u201cwith harde grace,\r\nWho ever heard of such a thing ere now?\r\nTo every man alike? tell me how.\r\nIt is impossible, it may not be.\r\nHey nice* churl, God let him never the.**              *foolish **thrive\r\nThe rumbling of a fart, and every soun\u2019,\r\nIs but of air reverberatioun,\r\nAnd ever wasteth lite* and lite* away;                           *little\r\nThere is no man can deemen,* by my fay,                   *judge, decide\r\nIf that it were departed* equally.                              *divided\r\nWhat? lo, my churl, lo yet how shrewedly*           *impiously, wickedly\r\nUnto my confessour to-day he spake;\r\nI hold him certain a demoniac.\r\nNow eat your meat, and let the churl go play,\r\nLet him go hang himself a devil way!\u201d\r\n\r\nNow stood the lorde\u2019s squier at the board,\r\nThat carv\u2019d his meat, and hearde word by word\r\nOf all this thing, which that I have you said.\r\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbe ye not *evil paid,*                *displeased*\r\nI coulde telle, for a gowne-cloth,*                   *cloth for a gown*\r\nTo you, Sir Friar, so that ye be not wrot,\r\nHow that this fart should even* dealed be                       *equally\r\nAmong your convent, if it liked thee.\u201d\r\n\u201cTell,\u201d quoth the lord, \u201cand thou shalt have anon\r\nA gowne-cloth, by God and by Saint John.\u201d\r\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwhen that the weather is fair,\r\nWithoute wind, or perturbing of air,\r\nLet* bring a cart-wheel here into this hall,                      cause*\r\nBut looke that it have its spokes all;\r\nTwelve spokes hath a cart-wheel commonly;\r\nAnd bring me then twelve friars, know ye why?\r\nFor thirteen is a convent as I guess;<25>\r\nYour confessor here, for his worthiness,\r\nShall *perform up* the number of his convent.                 *complete*\r\nThen shall they kneel adown by one assent,\r\nAnd to each spoke\u2019s end, in this mannere,\r\nFull sadly* lay his nose shall a frere;             *carefully, steadily\r\nYour noble confessor there, God him save,\r\nShall hold his nose upright under the nave.\r\nThen shall this churl, with belly stiff and tought*               *tight\r\nAs any tabour,* hither be y-brought;                               *drum\r\nAnd set him on the wheel right of this cart\r\nUpon the nave, and make him let a fart,\r\nAnd ye shall see, on peril of my life,\r\nBy very proof that is demonstrative,\r\nThat equally the sound of it will wend,*                             *go\r\nAnd eke the stink, unto the spokes\u2019 end,\r\nSave that this worthy man, your confessour\u2019\r\n(Because he is a man of great honour),\r\nShall have the firste fruit, as reason is;\r\nThe noble usage of friars yet it is,\r\nThe worthy men of them shall first be served,\r\nAnd certainly he hath it well deserved;\r\nHe hath to-day taught us so muche good\r\nWith preaching in the pulpit where he stood,\r\nThat I may vouchesafe, I say for me,\r\nHe had the firste smell of fartes three;\r\nAnd so would all his brethren hardily;\r\nHe beareth him so fair and holily.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe lord, the lady, and each man, save the frere,\r\nSaide, that Jankin spake in this mattere\r\nAs well as Euclid, or as Ptolemy.\r\nTouching the churl, they said that subtilty\r\nAnd high wit made him speaken as he spake;\r\nHe is no fool, nor no demoniac.\r\nAnd Jankin hath y-won a newe gown;\r\nMy tale is done, we are almost at town.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Sompnour\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Trentals: The money given to the priests for performing thirty\r\nmasses for the dead, either in succession or on the anniversaries\r\nof their death; also the masses themselves, which were very\r\nprofitable to the clergy.\r\n\r\n2. Possessioners: The regular religious orders, who had lands\r\nand fixed revenues; while the friars, by their vows, had to\r\ndepend on voluntary contributions, though their need suggested\r\nmany modes of evading the prescription.\r\n\r\n3. In Chaucer\u2019s day the most material notions about the tortures\r\nof hell prevailed, and were made the most of by the clergy, who\r\npreyed on the affection and fear of the survivors, through the\r\ningenious doctrine of purgatory. Old paintings and illuminations\r\nrepresent the dead as torn by hooks, roasted in fires, boiled in\r\npots, and subjected to many other physical torments.\r\n\r\n4. Qui cum patre: \u201cWho with the father\u201d; the closing words of\r\nthe final benediction pronounced at Mass.\r\n\r\n5. Askaunce: The word now means sideways or asquint; here it\r\nmeans \u201cas if;\u201d and its force is probably to suggest that the\r\nsecond friar, with an ostentatious stealthiness, noted down the\r\nnames of the liberal, to make them believe that they would be\r\nremembered in the holy beggars\u2019 orisons.\r\n\r\n6. A Godde\u2019s kichel/halfpenny: a little cake/halfpenny, given for\r\nGod\u2019s sake.\r\n\r\n7. Harlot: hired servant; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201chyran,\u201d to hire;\r\nthe word was commonly applied to males.\r\n\r\n8. Potent: staff; French, \u201cpotence,\u201d crutch, gibbet.\r\n\r\n9. Je vous dis sans doute: French; \u201cI tell you without doubt.\u201d\r\n\r\n10. Dortour: dormitory; French, \u201cdortoir.\u201d\r\n\r\n12. The Rules of St Benedict granted peculiar honours and\r\nimmunities to monks who had lived fifty years \u2014 the jubilee\r\nperiod \u2014 in the order. The usual reading of the words ending\r\nthe two lines is \u201cloan\u201d or \u201clone,\u201d and \u201calone;\u201d but to walk alone\r\ndoes not seem to have been any peculiar privilege of a friar,\r\nwhile the idea of precedence, or higher place at table and in\r\nprocessions, is suggested by the reading in the text.\r\n\r\n13. Borel folk:  laymen, people who are not learned; \u201cborel\u201d\r\nwas a kind of coarse cloth.\r\n\r\n14. Eli: Elijah (1 Kings, xix.)\r\n\r\n15. An emperor Jovinian was famous in the mediaeval  legends\r\nfor his pride and luxury\r\n\r\n16. Cor meum eructavit: literally, \u201cMy heart has belched forth;\u201d\r\nin our translation, (i.e. the Authorised \u201cKing James\u201d Version -\r\nTranscriber) \u201cMy heart is inditing a goodly matter.\u201d  (Ps. xlv.\r\n1.). \u201cBuf\u201d is meant to represent the sound  of an eructation, and\r\nto show the \u201cgreat reverence\u201d with which \u201cthose in possession,\u201d\r\nthe monks of the rich monasteries, performed divine service,\r\n\r\n17. N\u2019ere thou our brother, shouldest thou not thrive: if thou\r\nwert not of our  brotherhood, thou shouldst have no hope of\r\nrecovery.\r\n\r\n18. Thomas\u2019 life of Ind: The life of  Thomas of India - i.e. St.\r\nThomas the Apostle, who was said to have travelled to India.\r\n\r\n19. Potestate:  chief magistrate or judge; Latin, \u201cpotestas;\u201d\r\nItalian, \u201cpodesta.\u201d  Seneca relates the story of Cornelius Piso;\r\n\u201cDe Ira,\u201d i. 16.\r\n\r\n20. Placebo: An anthem of the Roman Church, from Psalm\r\ncxvi. 9, which in the Vulgate reads, \u201cPlacebo Domino in regione\r\nvivorum\u201d \u2014 \u201cI will please the Lord in the land of the living\u201d\r\n\r\n21. The Gysen:  Seneca calls it the Gyndes; Sir John Mandeville\r\ntells the story of the Euphrates. \u201cGihon,\u201d was the name of one\r\nof the four rivers of Eden (Gen. ii, 13).\r\n\r\n22. Him that harrowed Hell: Christ. See note 14 to the Reeve\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n23. Mr. Wright says that \u201cit was a common practice to grant\r\nunder the conventual seal to benefactors and others a brotherly\r\nparticipation in the spiritual good works of the convent, and in\r\ntheir expected reward after death.\u201d\r\n\r\n24. The friar had received a master\u2019s degree.\r\n\r\n25. The regular number of monks or friars in a convent was\r\nfixed at twelve,  with a superior, in imitation of the apostles and\r\ntheir Master; and large religious houses were held to consist of\r\nso many convents.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE CLERK\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\n\u201cSIR Clerk of Oxenford,\u201d our Hoste said,\r\n\u201cYe ride as still and coy, as doth a maid\r\nThat were new spoused, sitting at the board:\r\nThis day I heard not of your tongue a word.\r\nI trow ye study about some sophime:*                            *sophism\r\nBut Solomon saith, every thing hath time.\r\nFor Godde\u2019s sake, be of *better cheer,*                  *livelier mien*\r\nIt is no time for to study here.\r\nTell us some merry tale, by your fay;*                            *faith\r\nFor what man that is entered in a play,\r\nHe needes must unto that play assent.\r\nBut preache not, as friars do in Lent,\r\nTo make us for our olde sinnes weep,\r\nNor that thy tale make us not to sleep.\r\nTell us some merry thing of aventures.\r\nYour terms, your coloures, and your figures,\r\nKeep them in store, till so be ye indite\r\nHigh style, as when that men to kinges write.\r\nSpeake so plain at this time, I you pray,\r\nThat we may understande what ye say.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis worthy Clerk benignely answer\u2019d;\r\n\u201cHoste,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI am under your yerd,*                      *rod <1>\r\nYe have of us as now the governance,\r\nAnd therefore would I do you obeisance,\r\nAs far as reason asketh, hardily:*                        *boldly, truly\r\nI will you tell a tale, which that I\r\nLearn\u2019d at Padova of a worthy clerk,\r\nAs proved by his wordes and his werk.\r\nHe is now dead, and nailed in his chest,\r\nI pray to God to give his soul good rest.\r\nFrancis Petrarc\u2019, the laureate poet,<2>\r\nHighte* this clerk, whose rhetoric so sweet                  *was called\r\nIllumin\u2019d all Itale of poetry,\r\nAs Linian <3> did of philosophy,\r\nOr law, or other art particulere:\r\nBut death, that will not suffer us dwell here\r\nBut as it were a twinkling of an eye,\r\nThem both hath slain, and alle we shall die.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut forth to tellen of this worthy man,\r\nThat taughte me this tale, as I began,\r\nI say that first he with high style inditeth\r\n(Ere he the body of his tale writeth)\r\nA proem, in the which describeth he\r\nPiedmont, and of Saluces <4> the country,\r\nAnd speaketh of the Pennine hilles high,\r\nThat be the bounds of all West Lombardy:\r\nAnd of Mount Vesulus in special,\r\nWhere as the Po out of a welle small\r\nTaketh his firste springing and his source,\r\nThat eastward aye increaseth in his course\r\nT\u2019Emilia-ward, <5> to Ferraro, and Venice,\r\nThe which a long thing were to devise.*                         *narrate\r\nAnd truely, as to my judgement,\r\nMe thinketh it a thing impertinent,*                         *irrelevant\r\nSave that he would conveye his mattere:\r\nBut this is the tale, which that ye shall hear.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Clerk\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Under your yerd: under your rod; as the emblem of\r\ngovernment or direction.\r\n\r\n2. Francesco Petrarca, born 1304, died 1374; for his Latin epic\r\npoem on the carer of Scipio, called \u201cAfrica,\u201d he was solemnly\r\ncrowned with the poetic laurel in the  Capitol of Rome, on\r\nEaster-day of 1341.\r\n\r\n3. Linian: An eminent jurist and philosopher, now almost\r\nforgotten, who died four or five years after Petrarch.\r\n\r\n4. Saluces: Saluzzo, a district of Savoy; its marquises were\r\ncelebrated during the Middle Ages.\r\n\r\n5. Emilia:  The region called Aemilia, across which ran the Via\r\nAemilia \u2014 made by M. Aemilius Lepidus, who was consul at\r\nRome B.C. 187. It continued the Flaminian  Way from\r\nAriminum (Rimini) across the Po at Placentia (Piacenza) to\r\nMediolanum (Milan), traversing Cisalpine Gaul.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.<1>\r\n\r\n*Pars Prima.*                                               *First Part*\r\n\r\nThere is, right at the west side of Itale,\r\nDown at the root of Vesulus<2> the cold,\r\nA lusty* plain, abundant of vitaille;*              *pleasant **victuals\r\nThere many a town and tow\u2019r thou may\u2019st behold,\r\nThat founded were in time of fathers old,\r\nAnd many another delectable sight;\r\nAnd Saluces this noble country hight.\r\n\r\nA marquis whilom lord was of that land,\r\nAs were his worthy elders* him before,                        *ancestors\r\nAnd obedient, aye ready to his hand,\r\nWere all his lieges, bothe less and more:\r\nThus in delight he liv\u2019d, and had done yore,*                      *long\r\nBelov\u2019d and drad,* through favour of fortune,         *held in reverence\r\nBoth of his lordes and of his commune.*                      *commonalty\r\n\r\nTherewith he was, to speak of lineage,\r\nThe gentilest y-born of Lombardy,\r\nA fair person, and strong, and young of age,\r\nAnd full of honour and of courtesy:\r\nDiscreet enough his country for to gie,*                    *guide, rule\r\nSaving in some things that he was to blame;\r\nAnd Walter was this younge lordes name.\r\n\r\nI blame him thus, that he consider\u2019d not\r\nIn time coming what might him betide,\r\nBut on his present lust* was all his thought,                  *pleasure\r\nAnd for to hawk and hunt on every side;\r\nWell nigh all other cares let he slide,\r\nAnd eke he would (that was the worst of all)\r\nWedde no wife for aught that might befall.\r\n\r\nOnly that point his people bare so sore,\r\nThat flockmel* on a day to him they went,                     *in a body\r\nAnd one of them, that wisest was of lore\r\n(Or elles that the lord would best assent\r\nThat he should tell him what the people meant,\r\nOr elles could he well shew such mattere),\r\nHe to the marquis said as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cO noble Marquis! your humanity\r\nAssureth us and gives us hardiness,\r\nAs oft as time is of necessity,\r\nThat we to you may tell our heaviness:\r\nAccepte, Lord, now of your gentleness,\r\nWhat we with piteous heart unto you plain,*                 *complain of\r\nAnd let your ears my voice not disdain.\r\n\r\n\u201cAll* have I nought to do in this mattere                      *although\r\nMore than another man hath in this place,\r\nYet forasmuch as ye, my Lord so dear,\r\nHave always shewed me favour and grace,\r\nI dare the better ask of you a space\r\nOf audience, to shewen our request,\r\nAnd ye, my Lord, to do right *as you lest.*            *as pleaseth you*\r\n\r\n\u201cFor certes, Lord, so well us like you\r\nAnd all your work, and ev\u2019r have done, that we\r\nNe coulde not ourselves devise how\r\nWe mighte live in more felicity:\r\nSave one thing, Lord, if that your will it be,\r\nThat for to be a wedded man you lest;\r\nThen were your people *in sovereign hearte\u2019s rest.*          *completely\r\n\r\n\u201cBowe your neck under the blissful yoke\r\nOf sovereignty, and not of service,\r\nWhich that men call espousal or wedlock:\r\nAnd thinke, Lord, among your thoughtes wise,\r\nHow that our dayes pass in sundry wise;\r\nFor though we sleep, or wake, or roam, or ride,\r\nAye fleeth time, it will no man abide.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd though your greene youthe flow\u2019r as yet,\r\nIn creepeth age always as still as stone,\r\nAnd death menaceth every age, and smit*                         *smiteth\r\nIn each estate, for there escapeth none:\r\nAnd all so certain as we know each one\r\nThat we shall die, as uncertain we all\r\nBe of that day when death shall on us fall.\r\n\r\n\u201cAccepte then of us the true intent,*                      *mind, desire\r\nThat never yet refused youre hest,*                             *command\r\nAnd we will, Lord, if that ye will assent,\r\nChoose you a wife, in short time at the lest,*                    *least\r\nBorn of the gentilest and of the best\r\nOf all this land, so that it ought to seem\r\nHonour to God and you, as we can deem.\r\n\r\n\u201cDeliver us out of all this busy dread,*                          *doubt\r\nAnd take a wife, for highe Godde\u2019s sake:\r\nFor if it so befell, as God forbid,\r\nThat through your death your lineage should slake,*      *become extinct\r\nAnd that a strange successor shoulde take\r\nYour heritage, oh! woe were us on live:*                          *alive\r\nWherefore we pray you hastily to wive.\u201d\r\n\r\nTheir meeke prayer and their piteous cheer\r\nMade the marquis for to have pity.\r\n\u201cYe will,\u201d quoth he, \u201cmine owen people dear,\r\nTo that I ne\u2019er ere* thought constraine me.                      *before\r\nI me rejoiced of my liberty,\r\nThat seldom time is found in rnarriage;\r\nWhere I was free, I must be in servage!*                      *servitude\r\n\r\n\u201cBut natheless I see your true intent,\r\nAnd trust upon your wit, and have done aye:\r\nWherefore of my free will I will assent\r\nTo wedde me, as soon as e\u2019er I may.\r\nBut whereas ye have proffer\u2019d me to-day\r\nTo choose me a wife, I you release\r\nThat choice, and pray you of that proffer cease.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor God it wot, that children often been\r\nUnlike their worthy elders them before,\r\nBounte* comes all of God, not of the strene**                  *goodness\r\nOf which they be engender\u2019d and y-bore:                    **stock, race\r\nI trust in Godde\u2019s bounte, and therefore\r\nMy marriage, and mine estate and rest,\r\nI *him betake;* he may do as him lest.                   *commend to him\r\n\r\n\u201cLet me alone in choosing of my wife;\r\nThat charge upon my back I will endure:\r\nBut I you pray, and charge upon your life,\r\nThat what wife that I take, ye me assure\r\nTo worship* her, while that her life may dure,                   *honour\r\nIn word and work both here and elleswhere,\r\nAs she an emperore\u2019s daughter were.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd farthermore this shall ye swear, that ye\r\nAgainst my choice shall never grudge* nor strive.                *murmur\r\nFor since I shall forego my liberty\r\nAt your request, as ever may I thrive,\r\nWhere as mine heart is set, there will I live\r\nAnd but* ye will assent in such mannere,                         *unless\r\nI pray you speak no more of this mattere.\u201d\r\n\r\nWith heartly will they sworen and assent\r\nTo all this thing, there said not one wight nay:\r\nBeseeching him of grace, ere that they went,\r\nThat he would grante them a certain day\r\nOf his espousal, soon as e\u2019er he rnay,\r\nFor yet always the people somewhat dread*         *were in fear or doubt\r\nLest that the marquis woulde no wife wed.\r\n\r\nHe granted them a day, such as him lest,\r\nOn which he would be wedded sickerly,*                        *certainly\r\nAnd said he did all this at their request;\r\nAnd they with humble heart full buxomly,*                *obediently <3>\r\nKneeling upon their knees full reverently,\r\nHim thanked all; and thus they have an end\r\nOf their intent, and home again they wend.\r\n\r\nAnd hereupon he to his officers\r\nCommanded for the feaste to purvey.*                            *provide\r\nAnd to his privy knightes and squiers\r\nSuch charge he gave, as him list on them lay:\r\nAnd they to his commandement obey,\r\nAnd each of them doth all his diligence\r\nTo do unto the feast all reverence.\r\n\r\n*Pars Secunda*                                             *Second Part*\r\n\r\nNot far from thilke* palace honourable,                            *that\r\nWhere as this marquis shope* his marriage,        *prepared; resolved on\r\nThere stood a thorp,* of sighte delectable,                      *hamlet\r\nIn which the poore folk of that village\r\nHadde their beastes and their harbourage,*                     *dwelling\r\nAnd of their labour took their sustenance,\r\nAfter the earthe gave them abundance.\r\n\r\nAmong this poore folk there dwelt a man\r\nWhich that was holden poorest of them all;\r\nBut highe God sometimes sende can\r\nHis grace unto a little ox\u2019s stall;\r\nJanicola men of that thorp him call.\r\nA daughter had he, fair enough to sight,\r\nAnd Griseldis this younge maiden hight.\r\n\r\nBut for to speak of virtuous beauty,\r\nThen was she one the fairest under sun:\r\nFull poorely y-foster\u2019d up was she;\r\nNo *likerous lust* was in her heart y-run;          *luxurious pleasure*\r\nWell ofter of the well than of the tun\r\nShe drank, <4> and, for* she woulde virtue please               *because\r\nShe knew well labour, but no idle ease.\r\n\r\nBut though this maiden tender were of age;\r\nYet in the breast of her virginity\r\nThere was inclos\u2019d a *sad and ripe corage;*        *steadfast and mature\r\nAnd in great reverence and charity                               spirit*\r\nHer olde poore father foster\u2019d she.\r\nA few sheep, spinning, on the field she kept,\r\nShe woulde not be idle till she slept.\r\n\r\nAnd when she homeward came, she would bring\r\nWortes,* and other herbes, times oft,                  *plants, cabbages\r\nThe which she shred and seeth\u2019d for her living,\r\nAnd made her bed full hard, and nothing soft:\r\nAnd aye she kept her father\u2019s life on loft*                   *up, aloft\r\nWith ev\u2019ry obeisance and diligence,\r\nThat child may do to father\u2019s reverence.\r\n\r\nUpon Griselda, this poor creature,\r\nFull often sithes* this marquis set his eye,                      *times\r\nAs he on hunting rode, paraventure:*                          *by chance\r\nAnd when it fell that he might her espy,\r\nHe not with wanton looking of folly\r\nHis eyen cast on her, but in sad* wise                          *serious\r\nUpon her cheer* he would him oft advise;**       *countenance **consider\r\n\r\nCommending in his heart her womanhead,\r\nAnd eke her virtue, passing any wight\r\nOf so young age, as well in cheer as deed.\r\nFor though the people have no great insight\r\nIn virtue, he considered full right\r\nHer bounte,* and disposed that he would                        *goodness\r\nWed only her, if ever wed he should.\r\n\r\nThe day of wedding came, but no wight can\r\nTelle what woman that it shoulde be;\r\nFor which marvail wonder\u2019d many a man,\r\nAnd saide, when they were in privity,\r\n\u201cWill not our lord yet leave his vanity?\r\nWill he not wed?  Alas, alas the while!\r\nWhy will he thus himself and us beguile?\u201d\r\n\r\nBut natheless this marquis had *done make*           *caused to be made*\r\nOf gemmes, set in gold and in azure,\r\nBrooches and ringes, for Griselda\u2019s sake,\r\nAnd of her clothing took he the measure\r\nOf a maiden like unto her stature,\r\nAnd eke of other ornamentes all\r\nThat unto such a wedding shoulde fall.*                           *befit\r\n\r\nThe time of undern* of the same day                         *evening <5>\r\nApproached, that this wedding shoulde be,\r\nAnd all the palace put was in array,\r\nBoth hall and chamber, each in its degree,\r\nHouses of office stuffed with plenty\r\nThere may\u2019st thou see of dainteous vitaille,*      *victuals, provisions\r\nThat may be found, as far as lasts Itale.\r\n\r\nThis royal marquis, richely array\u2019d,\r\nLordes and ladies in his company,\r\nThe which unto the feaste were pray\u2019d,\r\nAnd of his retinue the bach\u2019lery,\r\nWith many a sound of sundry melody,\r\nUnto the village, of the which I told,\r\nIn this array the right way did they hold.\r\n\r\nGriseld\u2019 of this (God wot) full innocent,\r\nThat for her shapen* was all this array,                       *prepared\r\nTo fetche water at a well is went,\r\nAnd home she came as soon as e\u2019er she may.\r\nFor well she had heard say, that on that day\r\nThe marquis shoulde wed, and, if she might,\r\nShe fain would have seen somewhat of that sight.\r\n\r\nShe thought, \u201cI will with other maidens stand,\r\nThat be my fellows, in our door, and see\r\nThe marchioness; and therefore will I fand*                      *strive\r\nTo do at home, as soon as it may be,\r\nThe labour which belongeth unto me,\r\nAnd then I may at leisure her behold,\r\nIf she this way unto the castle hold.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd as she would over the threshold gon,\r\nThe marquis came and gan for her to call,\r\nAnd she set down her water-pot anon\r\nBeside the threshold, in an ox\u2019s stall,\r\nAnd down upon her knees she gan to fall,\r\nAnd with sad* countenance kneeled still,                         *steady\r\nTill she had heard what was the lorde\u2019s will.\r\n\r\nThe thoughtful marquis spake unto the maid\r\nFull soberly, and said in this mannere:\r\n\u201cWhere is your father, Griseldis?\u201d he said.\r\nAnd she with reverence, *in humble cheer,*             *with humble air*\r\nAnswered, \u201cLord, he is all ready here.\u201d\r\nAnd in she went withoute longer let*                              *delay\r\nAnd to the marquis she her father fet.*                         *fetched\r\n\r\nHe by the hand then took the poore man,\r\nAnd saide thus, when he him had aside:\r\n\u201cJanicola, I neither may nor can\r\nLonger the pleasance of mine hearte hide;\r\nIf that thou vouchesafe, whatso betide,\r\nThy daughter will I take, ere that I wend,*                          *go\r\nAs for my wife, unto her life\u2019s end.\r\n\r\n\u201cThou lovest me, that know I well certain,\r\nAnd art my faithful liegeman y-bore,*                              *born\r\nAnd all that liketh me, I dare well sayn\r\nIt liketh thee; and specially therefore\r\nTell me that point, that I have said before, \u2014\r\nIf that thou wilt unto this purpose draw,\r\nTo take me as for thy son-in-law.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis sudden case* the man astonied so,                            *event\r\nThat red he wax\u2019d, abash\u2019d,* and all quaking                     *amazed\r\nHe stood; unnethes* said he wordes mo\u2019,                        *scarcely\r\nBut only thus; \u201cLord,\u201d quoth he, \u201cmy willing\r\nIs as ye will, nor against your liking\r\nI will no thing, mine owen lord so dear;\r\nRight as you list governe this mattere.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThen will I,\u201d quoth the marquis softely,\r\n\u201cThat in thy chamber I, and thou, and she,\r\nHave a collation;* and know\u2019st thou why?                     *conference\r\nFor I will ask her, if her will it be\r\nTo be my wife, and rule her after me:\r\nAnd all this shall be done in thy presence,\r\nI will not speak out of thine audience.\u201d*                       *hearing\r\n\r\nAnd in the chamber while they were about\r\nThe treaty, which ye shall hereafter hear,\r\nThe people came into the house without,\r\nAnd wonder\u2019d them in how honest mannere\r\nAnd tenderly she kept her father dear;\r\nBut utterly Griseldis wonder might,\r\nFor never erst* ne saw she such a sight.                         *before\r\n\r\nNo wonder is though that she be astoned,*                    *astonished\r\nTo see so great a guest come in that place,\r\nShe never was to no such guestes woned;*               *accustomed, wont\r\nFor which she looked with full pale face.\r\nBut shortly forth this matter for to chase,*            *push on, pursue\r\nThese are the wordes that the marquis said\r\nTo this benigne, very,* faithful maid.                         *true <6>\r\n\r\n\u201cGriseld\u2019,\u201d he said, \u201cye shall well understand,\r\nIt liketh to your father and to me\r\nThat I you wed, and eke it may so stand,\r\nAs I suppose ye will that it so be:\r\nBut these demandes ask I first,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cSince that it shall be done in hasty wise;\r\nWill ye assent, or elles you advise?*                          *consider\r\n\r\n\u201cI say this, be ye ready with good heart\r\nTo all my lust,* and that I freely may,                        *pleasure\r\nAs me best thinketh, *do you* laugh or smart,             *cause you to*\r\nAnd never ye to grudge,* night nor day,                          *murmur\r\nAnd eke when I say Yea, ye say not Nay,\r\nNeither by word, nor frowning countenance?\r\nSwear this, and here I swear our alliance.\u201d\r\n\r\nWond\u2019ring upon this word, quaking for dread,\r\nShe saide; \u201cLord, indigne and unworthy\r\nAm I to this honour that ye me bede,*                             *offer\r\nBut as ye will yourself, right so will I:\r\nAnd here I swear, that never willingly\r\nIn word or thought I will you disobey,\r\nFor to be dead; though me were loth to dey.\u201d*                       *die\r\n\r\n\u201cThis is enough, Griselda mine,\u201d quoth he.\r\nAnd forth he went with a full sober cheer,\r\nOut at the door, and after then came she,\r\nAnd to the people he said in this mannere:\r\n\u201cThis is my wife,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthat standeth here.\r\nHonoure her, and love her, I you pray,\r\nWhoso me loves; there is no more to say.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd, for that nothing of her olde gear\r\nShe shoulde bring into his house, he bade\r\nThat women should despoile* her right there;                      *strip\r\nOf which these ladies were nothing glad\r\nTo handle her clothes wherein she was clad:\r\nBut natheless this maiden bright of hue\r\nFrom foot to head they clothed have all new.\r\n\r\nHer haires have they comb\u2019d that lay untress\u2019d*                   *loose\r\nFull rudely, and with their fingers small\r\nA crown upon her head they have dress\u2019d,\r\nAnd set her full of nouches <7> great and small:\r\nOf her array why should I make a tale?\r\nUnneth* the people her knew for her fairness,                  *scarcely\r\nWhen she transmuted was in such richess.\r\n\r\nThe marquis hath her spoused with a ring\r\nBrought for the same cause, and then her set\r\nUpon a horse snow-white, and well ambling,\r\nAnd to his palace, ere he longer let*                           *delayed\r\nWith joyful people, that her led and met,\r\nConveyed her; and thus the day they spend\r\nIn revel, till the sunne gan descend.\r\n\r\nAnd, shortly forth this tale for to chase,\r\nI say, that to this newe marchioness\r\nGod hath such favour sent her of his grace,\r\nThat it ne seemed not by likeliness\r\nThat she was born and fed in rudeness, \u2014\r\nAs in a cot, or in an ox\u2019s stall, \u2014\r\nBut nourish\u2019d in an emperore\u2019s hall.\r\n\r\nTo every wight she waxen* is so dear                              *grown\r\nAnd worshipful, that folk where she was born,\r\nThat from her birthe knew her year by year,\r\n*Unnethes trowed* they, but durst have sworn,        *scarcely believed*\r\nThat to Janicol\u2019 of whom I spake before,\r\nShe was not daughter, for by conjecture\r\nThem thought she was another creature.\r\n\r\nFor though that ever virtuous was she,\r\nShe was increased in such excellence\r\nOf thewes* good, y-set in high bounte,                        *qualities\r\nAnd so discreet, and fair of eloquence,\r\nSo benign, and so digne* of reverence,                           *worthy\r\nAnd coulde so the people\u2019s heart embrace,\r\nThat each her lov\u2019d that looked on her face.\r\n\r\nNot only of Saluces in the town\r\nPublished was the bounte of her name,\r\nBut eke besides in many a regioun;\r\nIf one said well, another said the same:\r\nSo spread of here high bounte the fame,\r\nThat men and women, young as well as old,\r\nWent to Saluces, her for to behold.\r\n\r\nThus Walter lowly, \u2014 nay, but royally,-\r\nWedded with fortn\u2019ate honestete,*                                *virtue\r\nIn Godde\u2019s peace lived full easily\r\nAt home, and outward grace enough had he:\r\nAnd, for he saw that under low degree\r\nWas honest virtue hid, the people him held\r\nA prudent man, and that is seen full seld\u2019.*                     *seldom\r\n\r\nNot only this Griseldis through her wit\r\n*Couth all the feat* of wifely homeliness,         *knew all the duties*\r\nBut eke, when that the case required it,\r\nThe common profit coulde she redress:\r\nThere n\u2019as discord, rancour, nor heaviness\r\nIn all the land, that she could not appease,\r\nAnd wisely bring them all in rest and ease\r\n\r\nThough that her husband absent were or non,*                        *not\r\nIf gentlemen or other of that country,\r\nWere wroth,* she woulde bringe them at one,                     *at feud\r\nSo wise and ripe wordes hadde she,\r\nAnd judgement of so great equity,\r\nThat she from heaven sent was, as men wend,*           *weened, imagined\r\nPeople to save, and every wrong t\u2019amend\r\n\r\nNot longe time after that this Griseld\u2019\r\nWas wedded, she a daughter had y-bore;\r\nAll she had lever* borne a knave** child,                  *rather **boy\r\nGlad was the marquis and his folk therefore;\r\nFor, though a maiden child came all before,\r\nShe may unto a knave child attain\r\nBy likelihood, since she is not barren.\r\n\r\n*Pars Tertia.*                                              *Third Part*\r\n\r\nThere fell, as falleth many times mo\u2019,\r\nWhen that his child had sucked but a throw,*                little while\r\nThis marquis in his hearte longed so\r\nTo tempt his wife, her sadness* for to know,              *steadfastness\r\nThat he might not out of his hearte throw\r\nThis marvellous desire his wife t\u2019asssay;*                          *try\r\nNeedless,* God wot, he thought her to affray.**           *without cause\r\n                                                        **alarm, disturb\r\nHe had assayed her anough before,\r\nAnd found her ever good; what needed it\r\nHer for to tempt, and always more and more?\r\nThough some men praise it for a subtle wit,\r\nBut as for me, I say that *evil it sit*              *it ill became him*\r\nT\u2019assay a wife when that it is no need,\r\nAnd putte her in anguish and in dread.\r\n\r\nFor which this marquis wrought in this mannere:\r\nHe came at night alone there as she lay,\r\nWith sterne face and with full troubled cheer,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cGriseld\u2019,\u201d quoth he \u201cthat day\r\nThat I you took out of your poor array,\r\nAnd put you in estate of high nobless,\r\nYe have it not forgotten, as I guess.\r\n\r\n\u201cI say, Griseld\u2019, this present dignity,\r\nIn which that I have put you, as I trow*                        *believe\r\nMaketh you not forgetful for to be\r\nThat I you took in poor estate full low,\r\nFor any weal you must yourselfe know.\r\nTake heed of every word that I you say,\r\nThere is no wight that hears it but we tway.*                       *two\r\n\r\n\u201cYe know yourself well how that ye came here\r\nInto this house, it is not long ago;\r\nAnd though to me ye be right lefe* and dear,                      *loved\r\nUnto my gentles* ye be nothing so:                   *nobles, gentlefolk\r\nThey say, to them it is great shame and woe\r\nFor to be subject, and be in servage,\r\nTo thee, that born art of small lineage.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd namely* since thy daughter was y-bore                   *especially\r\nThese wordes have they spoken doubteless;\r\nBut I desire, as I have done before,\r\nTo live my life with them in rest and peace:\r\nI may not in this case be reckeless;\r\nI must do with thy daughter for the best,\r\nNot as I would, but as my gentles lest.*                         *please\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd yet, God wot, this is full loth* to me:                     *odious\r\nBut natheless withoute your weeting*                            *knowing\r\nI will nought do; but this will I,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cThat ye to me assenten in this thing.\r\nShew now your patience in your working,\r\nThat ye me hight* and swore in your village                    *promised\r\nThe day that maked was our marriage.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen she had heard all this, she not amev\u2019d*                    *changed\r\nNeither in word, in cheer, nor countenance\r\n(For, as it seemed, she was not aggriev\u2019d);\r\nShe saide; \u201cLord, all lies in your pleasance,\r\nMy child and I, with hearty obeisance\r\nBe youres all, and ye may save or spill*                        *destroy\r\nYour owen thing: work then after your will.\r\n\r\n\u201cThere may no thing, so God my soule save,\r\n*Like to* you, that may displease me:                      *be pleasing*\r\nNor I desire nothing for to have,\r\nNor dreade for to lose, save only ye:\r\nThis will is in mine heart, and aye shall be,\r\nNo length of time, nor death, may this deface,\r\nNor change my corage* to another place.\u201d                  *spirit, heart\r\n\r\nGlad was the marquis for her answering,\r\nBut yet he feigned as he were not so;\r\nAll dreary was his cheer and his looking\r\nWhen that he should out of the chamber go.\r\nSoon after this, a furlong way or two,<8>\r\nHe privily hath told all his intent\r\nUnto a man, and to his wife him sent.\r\n\r\nA *manner sergeant* was this private* man,              *kind of squire*\r\nThe which he faithful often founden had                        *discreet\r\nIn thinges great, and eke such folk well can\r\nDo execution in thinges bad:\r\nThe lord knew well, that he him loved and drad.*                *dreaded\r\nAnd when this sergeant knew his lorde\u2019s will,\r\nInto the chamber stalked he full still.\r\n\r\n\u201cMadam,\u201d he said, \u201cye must forgive it me,\r\nThough I do thing to which I am constrain\u2019d;\r\nYe be so wise, that right well knowe ye\r\n*That lordes\u2019 hestes may not be y-feign\u2019d;*               *see note <9>*\r\nThey may well be bewailed and complain\u2019d,\r\nBut men must needs unto their lust* obey;                      *pleasure\r\nAnd so will I, there is no more to say.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis child I am commanded for to take.\u201d\r\nAnd spake no more, but out the child he hent*                    *seized\r\nDispiteously,* and gan a cheer** to make     *unpityingly **show, aspect\r\nAs though he would have slain it ere he went.\r\nGriseldis must all suffer and consent:\r\nAnd as a lamb she sat there meek and still,\r\nAnd let this cruel sergeant do his will\r\n\r\nSuspicious* was the diffame** of this man,    *ominous **evil reputation\r\nSuspect his face, suspect his word also,\r\nSuspect the time in which he this began:\r\nAlas! her daughter, that she loved so,\r\nShe weened* he would have it slain right tho,**          *thought **then\r\nBut natheless she neither wept nor siked,*                       *sighed\r\nConforming her to what the marquis liked.\r\n\r\nBut at the last to speake she began,\r\nAnd meekly she unto the sergeant pray\u2019d,\r\nSo as he was a worthy gentle man,\r\nThat she might kiss her child, ere that it died:\r\nAnd in her barme* this little child she laid,                *lap, bosom\r\nWith full sad face, and gan the child to bless,*                  *cross\r\nAnd lulled it, and after gan it kiss.\r\n\r\nAnd thus she said in her benigne voice:\r\nFarewell, my child, I shall thee never see;\r\nBut since I have thee marked with the cross,\r\nOf that father y-blessed may\u2019st thou be\r\nThat for us died upon a cross of tree:\r\nThy soul, my little child, I *him betake,*             *commit unto him*\r\nFor this night shalt thou dien for my sake.\r\n\r\nI trow* that to a norice** in this case                 *believe **nurse\r\nIt had been hard this ruthe* for to see:                  *pitiful sight\r\nWell might a mother then have cried, \u201cAlas!\u201d\r\nBut natheless so sad steadfast was she,\r\nThat she endured all adversity,\r\nAnd to the sergeant meekely she said,\r\n\u201cHave here again your little younge maid.\r\n\r\n\u201cGo now,\u201d quoth she, \u201cand do my lord\u2019s behest.\r\nAnd one thing would I pray you of your grace,\r\n*But if* my lord forbade you at the least,                      *unless*\r\nBury this little body in some place,\r\nThat neither beasts nor birdes it arace.\u201d*                    *tear <10>\r\nBut he no word would to that purpose say,\r\nBut took the child and went upon his way.\r\n\r\nThe sergeant came unto his lord again,\r\nAnd of Griselda\u2019s words and of her cheer*                     *demeanour\r\nHe told him point for point, in short and plain,\r\nAnd him presented with his daughter dear.\r\nSomewhat this lord had ruth in his mannere,\r\nBut natheless his purpose held he still,\r\nAs lordes do, when they will have their will;\r\n\r\nAnd bade this sergeant that he privily\r\nShoulde the child full softly wind and wrap,\r\nWith alle circumstances tenderly,\r\nAnd carry it in a coffer, or in lap;\r\nBut, upon pain his head off for to swap,*                        *strike\r\nThat no man shoulde know of his intent,\r\nNor whence he came, nor whither that he went;\r\n\r\nBut at Bologna, to his sister dear,\r\nThat at that time of Panic\u2019* was Countess,                       *Panico\r\nHe should it take, and shew her this mattere,\r\nBeseeching her to do her business\r\nThis child to foster in all gentleness,\r\nAnd whose child it was he bade her hide\r\nFrom every wight, for aught that might betide.\r\n\r\nThe sergeant went, and hath fulfill\u2019d this thing.\r\nBut to the marquis now returne we;\r\nFor now went he full fast imagining\r\nIf by his wife\u2019s cheer he mighte see,\r\nOr by her wordes apperceive, that she\r\nWere changed; but he never could her find,\r\nBut ever-in-one* alike sad** and kind.           *constantly **steadfast\r\n\r\nAs glad, as humble, as busy in service,\r\nAnd eke in love, as she was wont to be,\r\nWas she to him, in every *manner wise;*                    *sort of way*\r\nAnd of her daughter not a word spake she;\r\n*No accident for no adversity*            *no change of humour resulting\r\nWas seen in her, nor e\u2019er her daughter\u2019s name       from her affliction*\r\nShe named, or in earnest or in game.\r\n\r\n*Pars Quarta*                                              *Fourth Part*\r\n\r\nIn this estate there passed be four year\r\nEre she with childe was; but, as God wo\u2019ld,\r\nA knave* child she bare by this Waltere,                            *boy\r\nFull gracious and fair for to behold;\r\nAnd when that folk it to his father told,\r\nNot only he, but all his country, merry\r\nWere for this child, and God they thank and hery.*               *praise\r\n\r\nWhen it was two year old, and from the breast\r\nDeparted* of the norice, on a day                         *taken, weaned\r\nThis marquis *caughte yet another lest*               *was seized by yet\r\nTo tempt his wife yet farther, if he may.                another desire*\r\nOh! needless was she tempted in as say;*                          *trial\r\nBut wedded men *not connen no measure,*             *know no moderation*\r\nWhen that they find a patient creature.\r\n\r\n\u201cWife,\u201d quoth the marquis, \u201cye have heard ere this\r\nMy people *sickly bear* our marriage;          *regard with displeasure*\r\nAnd namely* since my son y-boren is,                         *especially\r\nNow is it worse than ever in all our age:\r\nThe murmur slays mine heart and my corage,\r\nFor to mine ears cometh the voice so smart,*                  *painfully\r\nThat it well nigh destroyed hath mine heart.\r\n\r\n\u201cNow say they thus, \u2018When Walter is y-gone,\r\nThen shall the blood of Janicol\u2019 succeed,\r\nAnd be our lord, for other have we none:\u2019\r\nSuch wordes say my people, out of drede.*                         *doubt\r\nWell ought I of such murmur take heed,\r\nFor certainly I dread all such sentence,*         *expression of opinion\r\nThough they not *plainen in mine audience.*     *complain in my hearing*\r\n\r\n\u201cI woulde live in peace, if that I might;\r\nWherefore I am disposed utterly,\r\nAs I his sister served ere* by night,                            *before\r\nRight so think I to serve him privily.\r\nThis warn I you, that ye not suddenly\r\nOut of yourself for no woe should outraie;*     *become outrageous, rave\r\nBe patient, and thereof I you pray.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI have,\u201d quoth she, \u201csaid thus, and ever shall,\r\nI will no thing, nor n\u2019ill no thing, certain,\r\nBut as you list; not grieveth me at all\r\nThough that my daughter and my son be slain\r\nAt your commandement; that is to sayn,\r\nI have not had no part of children twain,\r\nBut first sickness, and after woe and pain.\r\n\r\n\u201cYe be my lord, do with your owen thing\r\nRight as you list, and ask no rede of me:\r\nFor, as I left at home all my clothing\r\nWhen I came first to you, right so,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cLeft I my will and all my liberty,\r\nAnd took your clothing: wherefore I you pray,\r\nDo your pleasance, I will your lust* obey.                         *will\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, certes, if I hadde prescience\r\nYour will to know, ere ye your lust* me told,                      *will\r\nI would it do withoute negligence:\r\nBut, now I know your lust, and what ye wo\u2019ld,\r\nAll your pleasance firm and stable I hold;\r\nFor, wist I that my death might do you ease,\r\nRight gladly would I dien you to please.\r\n\r\n\u201cDeath may not make no comparisoun\r\nUnto your love.\u201d And when this marquis say*                         *saw\r\nThe constance of his wife,  he cast adown\r\nHis eyen two, and wonder\u2019d how she may\r\nIn patience suffer all this array;\r\nAnd forth he went with dreary countenance;\r\nBut to his heart it was full great pleasance.\r\n\r\nThis ugly sergeant, in the same wise\r\nThat he her daughter caught, right so hath he\r\n(Or worse, if men can any worse devise,)\r\nY-hent* her son, that full was of beauty:                        *seized\r\nAnd ever-in-one* so patient was she,                        *unvaryingly\r\nThat she no cheere made of heaviness,\r\nBut kiss\u2019d her son, and after gan him bless.\r\n\r\nSave this she prayed him, if that he might,\r\nHer little son he would in earthe grave,*                          *bury\r\nHis tender limbes, delicate to sight,\r\nFrom fowles and from beastes for to save.\r\nBut she none answer of him mighte have;\r\nHe went his way, as him nothing ne raught,*                       *cared\r\nBut to Bologna tenderly it brought.\r\n\r\nThe marquis wonder\u2019d ever longer more\r\nUpon her patience; and, if that he\r\nNot hadde soothly knowen therebefore\r\nThat perfectly her children loved she,\r\nHe would have ween\u2019d* that of some subtilty,                    *thought\r\nAnd of malice, or for cruel corage,*                        *disposition\r\nShe hadde suffer\u2019d this with sad* visage.            *steadfast, unmoved\r\n\r\nBut well he knew, that, next himself, certain\r\nShe lov\u2019d her children best in every wise.\r\nBut now of women would I aske fain,\r\nIf these assayes mighte not suffice?\r\nWhat could a sturdy* husband more devise                          *stern\r\nTo prove her wifehood and her steadfastness,\r\nAnd he continuing ev\u2019r in sturdiness?\r\n\r\nBut there be folk of such condition,\r\nThat, when they have a certain purpose take,\r\nThiey cannot stint* of their intention,                           *cease\r\nBut, right as they were bound unto a stake,\r\nThey will not of their firste purpose slake:*            *slacken, abate\r\nRight so this marquis fully hath purpos\u2019d\r\nTo tempt his wife, as he was first dispos\u2019d.\r\n\r\nHe waited, if by word or countenance\r\nThat she to him was changed of corage:*                          *spirit\r\nBut never could he finde variance,\r\nShe was aye one in heart and in visage,\r\nAnd aye the farther that she was in age,\r\nThe more true (if that it were possible)\r\nShe was to him in love, and more penible.*      *painstaking in devotion\r\n\r\nFor which it seemed thus, that of them two\r\nThere was but one will; for, as Walter lest,*                   *pleased\r\nThe same pleasance was her lust* also;                         *pleasure\r\nAnd, God be thanked, all fell for the best.\r\nShe shewed well, for no worldly unrest,\r\nA wife as of herself no thinge should\r\nWill, in effect, but as her husbaud would.\r\n\r\nThe sland\u2019r of Walter wondrous wide sprad,\r\nThat of a cruel heart he wickedly,\r\nFor* he a poore woman wedded had,                               *because\r\nHad murder\u2019d both his children privily:\r\nSuch murmur was among them commonly.\r\nNo wonder is: for to the people\u2019s ear\r\nThere came no word, but that they murder\u2019d were.\r\n\r\nFor which, whereas his people therebefore\r\nHad lov\u2019d him well, the sland\u2019r of his diffame*                  *infamy\r\nMade them that they him hated therefore.\r\nTo be a murd\u2019rer is a hateful name.\r\nBut natheless, for earnest or for game,\r\nHe of his cruel purpose would not stent;\r\nTo tempt his wife was set all his intent.\r\n\r\nWhen that his daughter twelve year was of age,\r\nHe to the Court of Rome, in subtle wise\r\nInformed of his will, sent his message,*                      *messenger\r\nCommanding him such bulles to devise\r\nAs to his cruel purpose may suffice,\r\nHow that the Pope, for his people\u2019s rest,\r\nBade him to wed another, if him lest.*                           *wished\r\n\r\nI say he bade they shoulde counterfeit\r\nThe Pope\u2019s bulles, making mention\r\nThat he had leave his firste wife to lete,*                       *leave\r\nTo stinte* rancour and dissension                         *put an end to\r\nBetwixt his people and him: thus spake the bull,\r\nThe which they have published at full.\r\n\r\nThe rude people, as no wonder is,\r\nWeened* full well that it had been right so:          *thought, believed\r\nBut, when these tidings came to Griseldis.\r\nI deeme that her heart was full of woe;\r\nBut she, alike sad* for evermo\u2019,                              *steadfast\r\nDisposed was, this humble creature,\r\nTh\u2019 adversity of fortune all t\u2019 endure;\r\n\r\nAbiding ever his lust and his pleasance,\r\nTo whom that she was given, heart and all,\r\nAs *to her very worldly suffisance.*               *to the utmost extent\r\nBut, shortly if this story tell I shall,                   of her power*\r\nThe marquis written hath in special\r\nA letter, in which he shewed his intent,\r\nAnd secretly it to Bologna sent.\r\n\r\nTo th\u2019 earl of Panico, which hadde tho*                           *there\r\nWedded his sister, pray\u2019d he specially\r\nTo bringe home again his children two\r\nIn honourable estate all openly:\r\nBut one thing he him prayed utterly,\r\nThat he to no wight, though men would inquere,\r\nShoulde not tell whose children that they were,\r\n\r\nBut say, the maiden should y-wedded be\r\nUnto the marquis of Saluce anon.\r\nAnd as this earl was prayed, so did he,\r\nFor, at day set, he on his way is gone\r\nToward Saluce, and lorde\u2019s many a one\r\nIn rich array, this maiden for to guide, \u2014\r\nHer younge brother riding her beside.\r\n\r\nArrayed was toward* her marriage                              *as if for\r\nThis freshe maiden, full of gemmes clear;\r\nHer brother, which that seven year was of age,\r\nArrayed eke full fresh in his mannere:\r\nAnd thus, in great nobless, and with glad cheer,\r\nToward Saluces shaping their journey,\r\nFrom day to day they rode upon their way.\r\n\r\n*Pars Quinta.*                                              *Fifth Part*\r\n\r\n*Among all this,* after his wick\u2019 usage,             *while all this was\r\nThe marquis, yet his wife to tempte more                       going on*\r\nTo the uttermost proof of her corage,\r\nFully to have experience and lore*                            *knowledge\r\nIf that she were as steadfast as before,\r\nHe on a day, in open audience,\r\nFull boisterously said her this sentence:\r\n\r\n\u201cCertes, Griseld\u2019, I had enough pleasance\r\nTo have you to my wife, for your goodness,\r\nAnd for your truth, and for your obeisance,\r\nNot for your lineage, nor for your richess;\r\nBut now know I, in very soothfastness,\r\nThat in great lordship, if I well advise,\r\nThere is great servitude in sundry wise.\r\n\r\n\u201cI may not do as every ploughman may:\r\nMy people me constraineth for to take\r\nAnother wife, and cryeth day by day;\r\nAnd eke the Pope, rancour for to slake,\r\nConsenteth it, that dare I undertake:\r\nAnd truely, thus much I will you say,\r\nMy newe wife is coming by the way.\r\n\r\n\u201cBe strong of heart, and *void anon* her place;     *immediately vacate*\r\nAnd thilke* dower that ye brought to me,                           *that\r\nTake it again, I grant it of my grace.\r\nReturne to your father\u2019s house,\u201d quoth he;\r\n\u201cNo man may always have prosperity;\r\nWith even heart I rede* you to endure                           *counsel\r\nThe stroke of fortune or of aventure.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd she again answer\u2019d in patience:\r\n\u201cMy Lord,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI know, and knew alway,\r\nHow that betwixte your magnificence\r\nAnd my povert\u2019 no wight nor can nor may\r\nMake comparison, it *is no nay;*                      *cannot be denied*\r\nI held me never digne* in no mannere                             *worthy\r\nTo be your wife, nor yet your chamberere.*                 *chamber-maid\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd in this house, where ye me lady made,\r\n(The highe God take I for my witness,\r\nAnd all so wisly* he my soule glade),**              *surely **gladdened\r\nI never held me lady nor mistress,\r\nBut humble servant to your worthiness,\r\nAnd ever shall, while that my life may dure,\r\nAboven every worldly creature.\r\n\r\n\u201cThat ye so long, of your benignity,\r\nHave holden me in honour and nobley,*                          *nobility\r\nWhere as I was not worthy for to be,\r\nThat thank I God and you, to whom I pray\r\nForyield* it you; there is no more to say:                       *reward\r\nUnto my father gladly will I wend,*                                  *go\r\nAnd with him dwell, unto my lifes end,\r\n\r\n\u201cWhere I was foster\u2019d as a child full small,\r\nTill I be dead my life there will I lead,\r\nA widow clean in body, heart, and all.\r\nFor since I gave to you my maidenhead,\r\nAnd am your true wife, it is no dread,*                           *doubt\r\nGod shielde* such a lordes wife to take                          *forbid\r\nAnother man to husband or to make.*                                *mate\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd of your newe wife, God of his grace\r\nSo grant you weal and all prosperity:\r\nFor I will gladly yield to her my place,\r\nIn which that I was blissful wont to be.\r\nFor since it liketh you, my Lord,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cThat whilom weren all mine hearte\u2019s rest,\r\nThat I shall go, I will go when you lest.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut whereas ye me proffer such dowaire\r\nAs I first brought, it is well in my mind,\r\nIt was my wretched clothes, nothing fair,\r\nThe which to me were hard now for to find.\r\nO goode God! how gentle and how kind\r\nYe seemed by your speech and your visage,\r\nThe day that maked was our marriage!\r\n\r\n\u201cBut sooth is said, \u2014 algate* I find it true,            *at all events\r\nFor in effect it proved is on me, \u2014\r\nLove is not old as when that it is new.\r\nBut certes, Lord, for no adversity,\r\nTo dien in this case, it shall not be\r\nThat e\u2019er in word or work I shall repent\r\nThat I you gave mine heart in whole intent.\r\n\r\n\u201cMy Lord, ye know that in my father\u2019s place\r\nYe did me strip out of my poore weed,*                          *raiment\r\nAnd richely ye clad me of your grace;\r\nTo you brought I nought elles, out of dread,\r\nBut faith, and nakedness, and maidenhead;\r\nAnd here again your clothing I restore,\r\nAnd eke your wedding ring for evermore.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe remnant of your jewels ready be\r\nWithin your chamber, I dare safely sayn:\r\nNaked out of my father\u2019s house,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cI came, and naked I must turn again.\r\nAll your pleasance would I follow fain:*                     *cheerfully\r\nBut yet I hope it be not your intent\r\nThat smockless* I out of your palace went.                        *naked\r\n\r\n\u201cYe could not do so dishonest* a thing,                   *dishonourable\r\nThat thilke* womb, in which your children lay,                     *that\r\nShoulde before the people, in my walking,\r\nBe seen all bare: and therefore I you pray,\r\nLet me not like a worm go by the way:\r\nRemember you, mine owen Lord so dear,\r\nI was your wife, though I unworthy were.\r\n\r\n\u201cWherefore, in guerdon* of my maidenhead,                        *reward\r\nWhich that I brought and not again I bear,\r\nAs vouchesafe to give me to my meed*                             *reward\r\nBut such a smock as I was wont to wear,\r\nThat I therewith may wrie* the womb of her                        *cover\r\nThat was your wife: and here I take my leave\r\nOf you, mine owen Lord, lest I you grieve.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThe smock,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthat thou hast on thy back,\r\nLet it be still, and bear it forth with thee.\u201d\r\nBut well unnethes* thilke word he spake,                *with difficulty\r\nBut went his way for ruth and for pity.\r\nBefore the folk herselfe stripped she,\r\nAnd in her smock, with foot and head all bare,\r\nToward her father\u2019s house forth is she fare.*                      *gone\r\n\r\nThe folk her follow\u2019d weeping on her way,\r\nAnd fortune aye they cursed as they gon:*                            *go\r\nBut she from weeping kept her eyen drey,*                           *dry\r\nNor in this time worde spake she none.\r\nHer father, that this tiding heard anon,\r\nCursed the day and time, that nature\r\nShope* him to be a living creature.                    *formed, ordained\r\n\r\nFor, out of doubt, this olde poore man\r\nWas ever in suspect of her marriage:\r\nFor ever deem\u2019d he, since it first began,\r\nThat when the lord *fulfill\u2019d had his corage,*  *had gratified his whim*\r\nHe woulde think it were a disparage*                      *disparagement\r\nTo his estate, so low for to alight,\r\nAnd voide* her as soon as e\u2019er he might.                        *dismiss\r\n\r\nAgainst* his daughter hastily went he                           *to meet\r\n(For he by noise of folk knew her coming),\r\nAnd with her olde coat, as it might be,\r\nHe cover\u2019d her, full sorrowfully weeping:\r\nBut on her body might he it not bring,\r\nFor rude was the cloth, and more of age\r\nBy dayes fele* than at her marriage.                          *many <11>\r\n\r\nThus with her father for a certain space\r\nDwelled this flow\u2019r of wifely patience,\r\nThat neither by her words nor by her face,\r\nBefore the folk nor eke in their absence,\r\nNe shewed she that her was done offence,\r\nNor of her high estate no remembrance\r\nNe hadde she, *as by* her countenance.                   *to judge from*\r\n\r\nNo wonder is, for in her great estate\r\nHer ghost* was ever in plein** humility;                  *spirit **full\r\nNo tender mouth, no hearte delicate,\r\nNo pomp, and no semblant of royalty;\r\nBut full of patient benignity,\r\nDiscreet and prideless, aye honourable,\r\nAnd to her husband ever meek and stable.\r\n\r\nMen speak of Job, and most for his humbless,\r\nAs clerkes, when them list, can well indite,\r\nNamely* of men; but, as in soothfastness,                  *particularly\r\nThough clerkes praise women but a lite,*                         *little\r\nThere can no man in humbless him acquite\r\nAs women can, nor can be half so true\r\nAs women be, *but it be fall of new.*              *unless it has lately\r\n                                                           come to pass*\r\n\r\n*Pars Sexta*                                                *Sixth Part*\r\n\r\nFrom Bologn\u2019 is the earl of Panic\u2019 come,\r\nOf which the fame up sprang to more and less;\r\nAnd to the people\u2019s eares all and some\r\nWas know\u2019n eke, that a newe marchioness\r\nHe with him brought, in such pomp and richess\r\nThat never was there seen with manne\u2019s eye\r\nSo noble array in all West Lombardy.\r\n\r\nThe marquis, which that shope* and knew all this,              *arranged\r\nEre that the earl was come, sent his message*                 *messenger\r\nFor thilke poore sely* Griseldis;                              *innocent\r\nAnd she, with humble heart and glad visage,\r\nNor with no swelling thought in her corage,*                       *mind\r\nCame at his hest,* and on her knees her set,                    *command\r\nAnd rev\u2019rently and wisely she him gret.*                        *greeted\r\n\r\n\u201cGriseld\u2019,\u201d quoth he, \u201cmy will is utterly,\r\nThis maiden, that shall wedded be to me,\r\nReceived be to-morrow as royally\r\nAs it possible is in my house to be;\r\nAnd eke that every wight in his degree\r\nHave *his estate* in sitting and service,               *what befits his\r\nAnd in high pleasance, as I can devise.                       condition*\r\n\r\n\u201cI have no women sufficient, certain,\r\nThe chambers to array in ordinance\r\nAfter my lust;* and therefore would I fain                     *pleasure\r\nThat thine were all such manner governance:\r\nThou knowest eke of old all my pleasance;\r\nThough thine array be bad, and ill besey,*              *poor to look on\r\n*Do thou thy devoir at the leaste  way.\u201d*          * do your duty in the\r\n                                                        quickest manner*\r\n\u201cNot only, Lord, that I am glad,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cTo do your lust, but I desire also\r\nYou for to serve and please in my degree,\r\nWithoute fainting, and shall evermo\u2019:\r\nNor ever for no weal, nor for no woe,\r\nNe shall the ghost* within mine hearte stent**           *spirit **cease\r\nTo love you best with all my true intent.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word she gan the house to dight,*                 *arrange\r\nAnd tables for to set, and beds to make,\r\nAnd *pained her* to do all that she might,              *she took pains*\r\nPraying the chambereres* for Godde\u2019s sake                 *chamber-maids\r\nTo hasten them, and faste sweep and shake,\r\nAnd she the most serviceable of all\r\nHath ev\u2019ry chamber arrayed, and his hall.\r\n\r\nAboute undern* gan the earl alight,                       *afternoon <5>\r\nThat with him brought these noble children tway;\r\nFor which the people ran to see the sight\r\nOf their array, so *richely besey;*                     *rich to behold*\r\nAnd then *at erst* amonges them they say,           *for the first time*\r\nThat Walter was no fool, though that him lest*                  *pleased\r\nTo change his wife; for it was for the best.\r\n\r\nFor she is fairer, as they deemen* all,                           *think\r\nThan is Griseld\u2019, and more tender of age,\r\nAnd fairer fruit between them shoulde fall,\r\nAnd more pleasant, for her high lineage:\r\nHer brother eke so fair was of visage,\r\nThat them to see the people hath caught pleasance,\r\nCommending now the marquis\u2019 governance.\r\n\r\n\u201cO stormy people, unsad* and ev\u2019r untrue,                      *variable\r\nAnd undiscreet, and changing as a vane,\r\nDelighting ev\u2019r in rumour that is new,\r\nFor like the moon so waxe ye and wane:\r\nAye full of clapping, *dear enough a jane,*         *worth nothing <12>*\r\nYour doom* is false, your constance evil preveth,**  *judgment **proveth\r\nA full great fool is he that you believeth.\u201d\r\n\r\nThus saide the sad* folk in that city,                           *sedate\r\nWhen that the people gazed up and down;\r\nFor they were glad, right for the novelty,\r\nTo have a newe lady of their town.\r\nNo more of this now make I mentioun,\r\nBut to Griseld\u2019 again I will me dress,\r\nAnd tell her constancy and business.\r\n\r\nFull busy was Griseld\u2019 in ev\u2019ry thing\r\nThat to the feaste was appertinent;\r\nRight nought was she abash\u2019d* of her clothing,                  *ashamed\r\nThough it were rude, and somedeal eke to-rent;*                *tattered\r\nBut with glad cheer* unto the gate she went                  *expression\r\nWith other folk, to greet the marchioness,\r\nAnd after that did forth her business.\r\n\r\nWith so glad cheer* his guestes she receiv\u2019d                 *expression\r\nAnd so conningly* each in his degree,               *cleverly, skilfully\r\nThat no defaulte no man apperceiv\u2019d,\r\nBut aye they wonder\u2019d what she mighte be\r\nThat in so poor array was for to see,\r\nAnd coude* such honour and reverence;                  *knew, understood\r\nAnd worthily they praise her prudence.\r\n\r\nIn all this meane while she not stent*                           *ceased\r\nThis maid, and eke her brother, to commend\r\nWith all her heart in full benign intent,\r\nSo well, that no man could her praise amend:\r\nBut at the last, when that these lordes wend*                        *go\r\nTo sitte down to meat, he gan to call\r\nGriseld\u2019, as she was busy in the hall.\r\n\r\n\u201cGriseld\u2019,\u201d quoth he, as it were in his play,\r\n\u201cHow liketh thee my wife, and her beauty?\u201d\r\n\u201cRight well, my Lord,\u201d quoth she, \u201cfor, in good fay,*             *faith\r\nA fairer saw I never none than she:\r\nI pray to God give you prosperity;\r\nAnd so I hope, that he will to you send\r\nPleasance enough unto your lives end.\r\n\r\n\u201cOne thing beseech I you, and warn also,\r\nThat ye not pricke with no tormenting\r\nThis tender maiden, as ye have done mo:*                        *me <13>\r\nFor she is foster\u2019d in her nourishing\r\nMore tenderly, and, to my supposing,\r\nShe mighte not adversity endure\r\nAs could a poore foster\u2019d creature.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd when this Walter saw her patience,\r\nHer gladde cheer, and no malice at all,\r\nAnd* he so often had her done offence,                         *although\r\nAnd she aye sad* and constant as a wall,                      *steadfast\r\nContinuing ev\u2019r her innocence o\u2019er all,\r\nThe sturdy marquis gan his hearte dress*                        *prepare\r\nTo rue upon her wifely steadfastness.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis is enough, Griselda mine,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cBe now no more *aghast, nor evil paid,*        *afraid, nor displeased*\r\nI have thy faith and thy benignity\r\nAs well as ever woman was, assay\u2019d,\r\nIn great estate and poorely array\u2019d:\r\nNow know I, deare wife, thy steadfastness;\u201d\r\nAnd her in arms he took, and gan to kiss.\r\n\r\nAnd she for wonder took of it no keep;*                          *notice\r\nShe hearde not what thing he to her said:\r\nShe far\u2019d as she had start out of a sleep,\r\nTill she out of her mazedness abraid.*                            *awoke\r\n\u201cGriseld\u2019,\u201d quoth he, \u201cby God that for us died,\r\nThou art my wife, none other I have,\r\nNor ever had, as God my soule save.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis is thy daughter, which thou hast suppos\u2019d\r\nTo be my wife; that other faithfully\r\nShall be mine heir, as I have aye dispos\u2019d;\r\nThou bare them of thy body truely:\r\nAt Bologna kept I them privily:\r\nTake them again, for now may\u2019st thou not say\r\nThat thou hast lorn* none of thy children tway.                    *lost\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd folk, that otherwise have said of me,\r\nI warn them well, that I have done this deed\r\nFor no malice, nor for no cruelty,\r\nBut to assay in thee thy womanhead:\r\nAnd not to slay my children (God forbid),\r\nBut for to keep them privily and still,\r\nTill I thy purpose knew, and all thy will.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen she this heard, in swoon adown she falleth\r\nFor piteous joy; and after her swooning,\r\nShe both her younge children to her calleth,\r\nAnd in her armes piteously weeping\r\nEmbraced them, and tenderly kissing,\r\nFull like a mother, with her salte tears\r\nShe bathed both their visage and their hairs.\r\n\r\nO, what a piteous thing it was to see\r\nHer swooning, and her humble voice to hear!\r\n\u201cGrand mercy, Lord, God thank it you,\u201d quoth she,\r\nThat ye have saved me my children dear;\r\nNow reck* I never to be dead right here;                           *care\r\nSince I stand in your love, and in your grace,\r\nNo *force of* death, nor when my spirit pace.*     *no matter for* *pass\r\n\r\n\u201cO tender, O dear, O young children mine,\r\nYour woeful mother *weened steadfastly*                *believed firmly*\r\nThat cruel houndes, or some foul vermine,\r\nHad eaten you; but God of his mercy,\r\nAnd your benigne father tenderly\r\nHave *done you keep:\u201d* and in that same stound*           *caused you to\r\nAll suddenly she swapt** down to the ground.               be preserved*\r\n                                                            *hour **fell\r\nAnd in her swoon so sadly* holdeth she                           *firmly\r\nHer children two, when she gan them embrace,\r\nThat with great sleight* and great difficulty                       *art\r\nThe children from her arm they can arace,*                    *pull away\r\nO! many a tear on many a piteous face\r\nDown ran of them that stoode her beside,\r\nUnneth\u2019* aboute her might they abide.                          *scarcely\r\n\r\nWalter her gladdeth, and her sorrow slaketh:*                  *assuages\r\nShe riseth up abashed* from her trance,                      *astonished\r\nAnd every wight her joy and feaste maketh,\r\nTill she hath caught again her countenance.\r\nWalter her doth so faithfully pleasance,\r\nThat it was dainty for to see the cheer\r\nBetwixt them two, since they be met in fere.*                  *together\r\n\r\nThe ladies, when that they their time sey,*                         *saw\r\nHave taken her, and into chamber gone,\r\nAnd stripped her out of her rude array,\r\nAnd in a cloth of gold that brightly shone,\r\nAnd with a crown of many a riche stone\r\nUpon her head, they into hall her brought:\r\nAnd there she was honoured as her ought.\r\n\r\nThus had this piteous day a blissful end;\r\nFor every man and woman did his might\r\nThis day in mirth and revel to dispend,\r\nTill on the welkin* shone the starres bright:                 *firmament\r\nFor more solemn in every mannes sight\r\nThis feaste was, and greater of costage,*                       *expense\r\nThan was the revel of her marriage.\r\n\r\nFull many a year in high prosperity\r\nLived these two in concord and in rest;\r\nAnd richely his daughter married he\r\nUnto a lord, one of the worthiest\r\nOf all Itale; and then in peace and rest\r\nHis wife\u2019s father in his court he kept,\r\nTill that the soul out of his body crept.\r\n\r\nHis son succeeded in his heritage,\r\nIn rest and peace, after his father\u2019s day:\r\nAnd fortunate was eke in marriage,\r\nAll* he put not his wife in great assay:                       *although\r\nThis world is not so strong, it *is no nay,*          *not to be denied*\r\nAs it hath been in olde times yore;\r\nAnd hearken what this author saith, therefore;\r\n\r\nThis story is said, <14> not for that wives should\r\nFollow Griselda in humility,\r\nFor it were importable* though they would;              *not to be borne\r\nBut for that every wight in his degree\r\nShoulde be constant in adversity,\r\nAs was Griselda; therefore Petrarch writeth\r\nThis story, which with high style he inditeth.\r\n\r\nFor, since a woman was so patient\r\nUnto a mortal man, well more we ought\r\nReceiven all in gree* that God us sent.                        good-will\r\n*For great skill is he proved that he wrought:*          *see note <15>*\r\nBut he tempteth no man that he hath bought,\r\nAs saith Saint James, if ye his \u2019pistle read;\r\nHe proveth folk all day, it is no dread.*                         *doubt\r\n\r\nAnd suffereth us, for our exercise,\r\nWith sharpe scourges of adversity\r\nFull often to be beat in sundry wise;\r\nNot for to know our will, for certes he,\r\nEre we were born, knew all our frailty;\r\nAnd for our best is all his governance;\r\nLet us then live in virtuous sufferance.\r\n\r\nBut one word, lordings, hearken, ere I go:\r\nIt were full hard to finde now-a-days\r\nIn all a town Griseldas three or two:\r\nFor, if that they were put to such assays,\r\nThe gold of them hath now so bad allays*                         *alloys\r\nWith brass, that though the coin be fair *at eye,*              *to see*\r\nIt woulde rather break in two than ply.*                           *bend\r\n\r\nFor which here, for the Wife\u2019s love of Bath, \u2014\r\nWhose life and all her sex may God maintain\r\nIn high mast\u2019ry, and elles were it scath,* \u2014              *damage, pity\r\nI will, with lusty hearte fresh and green,\r\nSay you a song to gladden you, I ween:\r\nAnd let us stint of earnestful mattere.\r\nHearken my song, that saith in this mannere.\r\n\r\nL\u2019Envoy of Chaucer.\r\n\r\n\u201cGriseld\u2019 is dead, and eke her patience,\r\nAnd both at once are buried in Itale:\r\nFor which I cry in open audience,\r\nNo wedded man so hardy be t\u2019 assail\r\nHis wife\u2019s patience, in trust to find\r\nGriselda\u2019s, for in certain he shall fail.\r\n\r\n\u201cO noble wives, full of high prudence,\r\nLet no humility your tongues nail:\r\nNor let no clerk have cause or diligence\r\nTo write of you a story of such marvail,\r\nAs of Griselda patient and kind,\r\nLest Chichevache<16> you swallow in her entrail.\r\n\r\n\u201cFollow Echo, that holdeth no silence,\r\nBut ever answereth at the countertail;*              *counter-tally <17>\r\nBe not bedaffed* for your innocence,                           *befooled\r\nBut sharply take on you the governail;*                            *helm\r\nImprinte well this lesson in your mind,\r\nFor common profit, since it may avail.\r\n\r\n\u201cYe archiwives,* stand aye at defence,                    *wives of rank\r\nSince ye be strong as is a great camail,*                         *camel\r\nNor suffer not that men do you offence.\r\nAnd slender wives, feeble in battail,\r\nBe eager as a tiger yond in Ind;\r\nAye clapping as a mill, I you counsail.\r\n\r\n\u201cNor dread them not, nor do them reverence;\r\nFor though thine husband armed be in mail,\r\nThe arrows of thy crabbed eloquence\r\nShall pierce his breast, and eke his aventail;<18>\r\nIn jealousy I rede* eke thou him bind,                           *advise\r\nAnd thou shalt make him couch* as doth a quail.          *submit, shrink\r\n\r\n\u201cIf thou be fair, where folk be in presence\r\nShew thou thy visage and thine apparail:\r\nIf thou be foul, be free of thy dispence;\r\nTo get thee friendes aye do thy travail:\r\nBe aye of cheer as light as leaf on lind,*            *linden, lime-tree\r\nAnd let him care, and weep, and wring, and wail.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Clerk\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Petrarch, in his Latin romance, \u201cDe obedientia et fide uxoria\r\nMythologia,\u201d (Of obedient and faithful wives in Mythology)\r\ntranslated the charming story of \u201cthe patient Grizel\u201d from the\r\nItalian of Bocaccio\u2019s \u201cDecameron;\u201d and Chaucer has closely\r\nfollowed Petrarch\u2019s translation, made in 1373, the year before\r\nthat in which he died.  The fact that the embassy to Genoa, on\r\nwhich Chaucer was sent, took place in 1372-73, has lent\r\ncountenance to the opinion that the English poet did actually\r\nvisit the Italian bard at Padua, and hear the story from his own\r\nlips.  This, however, is only a probability; for it is a moot point\r\nwhether the two poets ever met.\r\n\r\n2. Vesulus:  Monte Viso, a lofty peak at the junction of the\r\nMaritime and Cottian Alps; from two springs on its east side\r\nrises the Po.\r\n\r\n3. Buxomly: obediently; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cbogsom,\u201d old English,\r\n\u201cboughsome,\u201d that can be easily bent or bowed; German,\r\n\u201cbiegsam,\u201d pliant, obedient.\r\n\r\n4. Well ofter of the well than of the tun she drank: she drank\r\nwater much more often than wine.\r\n\r\n5. Undern: afternoon, evening, though by some \u201cundern\u201d\r\nis understood as dinner-time \u2014 9 a. m. See note 4 to the Wife of\r\nBath\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n6. Very: true; French \u201cvrai\u201d.\r\n\r\n7. Nouches: Ornaments of some kind not precisely known;\r\nsome editions read \u201couches,\u201d studs, brooches. (Transcriber\u2019s\r\nnote: The OED gives \u201cnouches\u201d as a form of \u201couches,\u201d\r\nbuckles)\r\n\r\n8. A furlong way or two: a short time; literally, as long as it\r\ntakes to walk one or two furlongs (a furlong is 220 yards)\r\n\r\n9. Lordes\u2019 hestes may not be y-feign\u2019d: it will not do merely to\r\nfeign compliance with a lord\u2019s commands.\r\n\r\n10. Arace: tear; French, \u201carracher.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Fele: many; German, \u201cviel.\u201d\r\n\r\n12. Dear enough a jane: worth nothing.  A jane was a small coin\r\nof little worth, so the meaning is \u201cnot worth a red cent\u201d.\r\n\r\n13. Mo: me.  \u201cThis is one of the most licentious corruptions of\r\northography,\u201d says Tyrwhitt, \u201cthat I remember to have observed\r\nin Chaucer;\u201d but such liberties were common among the\r\nEuropean poets of his time,  when there was an extreme lack of\r\ncertainty in orthography.\r\n\r\n14. The fourteen lines that follow are translated almost literally\r\nfrom Petrarch\u2019s Latin.\r\n\r\n15. For great skill is he proved that he wrought: for it is most\r\nreasonable that He should prove or test that which he made.\r\n\r\n16. Chichevache, in old popular fable, was a monster that fed\r\nonly on good women, and was always very thin from scarcity of\r\nsuch food; a corresponding monster, Bycorne, fed only on\r\nobedient and kind husbands, and was always fat. The origin of\r\nthe fable was French; but Lydgate has a ballad on the subject.\r\n\u201cChichevache\u201d literally means \u201cniggardly\u201d or \u201cgreedy cow.\u201d\r\n\r\n17. Countertail: Counter-tally or counter-foil; something exactly\r\ncorresponding.\r\n\r\n18. Aventail: forepart of a helmet, vizor.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE MERCHANT\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.<l>\r\n\r\n\u201cWeeping and wailing, care and other sorrow,\r\nI have enough, on even and on morrow,\u201d\r\nQuoth the Merchant, \u201cand so have other mo\u2019,\r\nThat wedded be; I trow* that it be so;                          *believe\r\nFor well I wot it fareth so by me.\r\nI have a wife, the worste that may be,\r\nFor though the fiend to her y-coupled were,\r\nShe would him overmatch, I dare well swear.\r\nWhy should I you rehearse in special\r\nHer high malice? she is *a shrew at all.*                *thoroughly, in\r\nThere is a long and large difference                  everything wicked*\r\nBetwixt Griselda\u2019s greate patience,\r\nAnd of my wife the passing cruelty.\r\nWere I unbounden, all so may I the,*                             *thrive\r\nI woulde never eft* come in the snare.                            *again\r\nWe wedded men live in sorrow and care;\r\nAssay it whoso will, and he shall find\r\nThat I say sooth, by Saint Thomas of Ind,<2>\r\nAs for the more part; I say not all, \u2014\r\nGod shielde* that it shoulde so befall.                          *forbid\r\nAh! good Sir Host, I have y-wedded be\r\nThese moneths two, and more not, pardie;\r\nAnd yet I trow* that he that all his life                       *believe\r\nWifeless hath been, though that men would him rive*               *wound\r\nInto the hearte, could in no mannere\r\nTelle so much sorrow, as I you here\r\nCould tellen of my wife\u2019s cursedness.\u201d*                      *wickedness\r\n\r\n\u201cNow,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201cMerchant, so God you bless,\r\nSince ye so muche knowen of that art,\r\nFull heartily I pray you tell us part.\u201d\r\n\u201cGladly,\u201d quoth he; \u201cbut of mine owen sore,\r\nFor sorry heart, I telle may no more.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Merchant\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1.  Though the manner in which the Merchant takes up the\r\nclosing words of the Envoy to the Clerk\u2019s Tale, and refers to\r\nthe patience of Griselda, seems to prove beyond doubt that\r\nthe order of the Tales in the text is the right one, yet in\r\nsome manuscripts of good authority the Franklin\u2019s Tale\r\nfollows the Clerk\u2019s, and the Envoy is concluded by this\r\nstanza: \u2014\r\n\u201cThis worthy Clerk when ended was his tale,\r\nOur Hoste said, and swore by cocke\u2019s bones\r\n\u2018Me lever were than a barrel of ale\r\nMy wife at home had heard this legend once;\r\nThis is a gentle tale for the nonce;\r\nAs, to my purpose, wiste ye my will.\r\nBut thing that will not be, let it be still.\u2019\u201d\r\n\r\nIn other manuscripts of less authority the Host proceeds, in\r\ntwo similar stanzas, to impose a Tale on the Franklin; but\r\nTyrwhitt is probably right in setting them aside as spurious,\r\nand in admitting the genuineness of the first only, if it be\r\nsupposed that Chaucer forgot to cancel it when he had\r\ndecided on another mode of connecting the Merchant\u2019s with\r\nthe Clerk\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n2. Saint Thomas of Ind: St. Thomas the Apostle, who was\r\nbelieved to have travelled in India.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.<l>\r\n\r\nWhilom there was dwelling in Lombardy\r\nA worthy knight, that born was at Pavie,\r\nIn which he liv\u2019d in great prosperity;\r\nAnd forty years a wifeless man was he,\r\nAnd follow\u2019d aye his bodily delight\r\nOn women, where as was his appetite,\r\nAs do these fooles that be seculeres.<2>\r\nAnd, when that he was passed sixty years,\r\nWere it for holiness, or for dotage,\r\nI cannot say, but such a great corage*                      *inclination\r\nHadde this knight to be a wedded man,\r\nThat day and night he did all that he can\r\nTo espy where that he might wedded be;\r\nPraying our Lord to grante him, that he\r\nMighte once knowen of that blissful life\r\nThat is betwixt a husband and his wife,\r\nAnd for to live under that holy bond\r\nWith which God firste man and woman bond.\r\n\u201cNone other life,\u201d said he, \u201cis worth a bean;\r\nFor wedlock is so easy, and so clean,\r\nThat in this world it is a paradise.\u201d\r\nThus said this olde knight, that was so wise.\r\nAnd certainly, as sooth* as God is king,                           *true\r\nTo take a wife it is a glorious thing,\r\nAnd namely* when a man is old and hoar,                      *especially\r\nThen is a wife the fruit of his treasor;\r\nThen should he take a young wife and a fair,\r\nOn which he might engender him an heir,\r\nAnd lead his life in joy and in solace;*                 *mirth, delight\r\nWhereas these bachelors singen \u201cAlas!\u201d\r\nWhen that they find any adversity\r\nIn love, which is but childish vanity.\r\nAnd truely it sits* well to be so,                      *becomes, befits\r\nThat bachelors have often pain and woe:\r\nOn brittle ground they build, and brittleness\r\nThey finde when they *weene sickerness:*               *think that there\r\nThey live but as a bird or as a beast,                      is security*\r\nIn liberty, and under no arrest;*                        *check, control\r\nWhereas a wedded man in his estate\r\nLiveth a life blissful and ordinate,\r\nUnder the yoke of marriage y-bound;\r\nWell may his heart in joy and bliss abound.\r\nFor who can be so buxom* as a wife?                            *obedient\r\nWho is so true, and eke so attentive\r\nTo keep* him, sick and whole, as is his make?**         *care for **mate\r\nFor weal or woe she will him not forsake:\r\nShe is not weary him to love and serve,\r\nThough that he lie bedrid until he sterve.*                         *die\r\nAnd yet some clerkes say it is not so;\r\nOf which he, Theophrast, is one of tho:*                          *those\r\n*What force* though Theophrast list for to lie?            *what matter*\r\n\r\n\u201cTake no wife,\u201d quoth he, <3> \u201cfor husbandry,*                   *thrift\r\nAs for to spare in household thy dispence;\r\nA true servant doth more diligence\r\nThy good to keep, than doth thine owen wife,\r\nFor she will claim a half part all her life.\r\nAnd if that thou be sick, so God me save,\r\nThy very friendes, or a true knave,*                            *servant\r\nWill keep thee bet than she, that *waiteth aye          *ahways waits to\r\nAfter thy good,* and hath done many a day.\u201d       inherit your property*\r\nThis sentence, and a hundred times worse,\r\nWriteth this man, there God his bones curse.\r\nBut take no keep* of all such vanity,                            *notice\r\nDefy* Theophrast, and hearken to me.                           *distrust\r\n\r\nA wife is Godde\u2019s gifte verily;\r\nAll other manner giftes hardily,*                                 *truly\r\nAs handes, rentes, pasture, or commune,*                    *common land\r\nOr mebles,* all be giftes of fortune,                     *furniture <4>\r\nThat passen as a shadow on the wall:\r\nBut dread* thou not, if plainly speak I shall,                    *doubt\r\nA wife will last, and in thine house endure,\r\nWell longer than thee list, paraventure.*                       *perhaps\r\nMarriage is a full great sacrament;\r\nHe which that hath no wife, I hold him shent;*                   *ruined\r\nHe liveth helpless, and all desolate\r\n(I speak of folk *in secular estate*):                      *who are not\r\nAnd hearken why, I say not this for nought, \u2014            of the clergy*\r\nThat woman is for manne\u2019s help y-wrought.\r\nThe highe God, when he had Adam maked,\r\nAnd saw him all alone belly naked,\r\nGod of his greate goodness saide then,\r\nLet us now make a help unto this man\r\nLike to himself; and then he made him Eve.\r\nHere may ye see, and hereby may ye preve,*                        *prove\r\nThat a wife is man s help and his comfort,\r\nHis paradise terrestre and his disport.\r\nSo buxom* and so virtuous is she,                   *obedient, complying\r\nThey muste needes live in unity;\r\nOne flesh they be, and one blood, as I guess,\r\nWith but one heart in weal and in distress.\r\nA wife? Ah! Saint Mary, ben\u2019dicite,\r\nHow might a man have any adversity\r\nThat hath a wife? certes I cannot say\r\nThe bliss the which that is betwixt them tway,\r\nThere may no tongue it tell, or hearte think.\r\nIf he be poor, she helpeth him to swink;*                        *labour\r\nShe keeps his good, and wasteth never a deal;*                     *whit\r\nAll that her husband list, her liketh* well;                   *pleaseth\r\nShe saith not ones Nay, when he saith Yea;\r\n\u201cDo this,\u201d saith he; \u201cAll ready, Sir,\u201d saith she.\r\nO blissful order, wedlock precious!\r\nThou art so merry, and eke so virtuous,\r\nAnd so commended and approved eke,\r\nThat every man that holds him worth a leek\r\nUpon his bare knees ought all his life\r\nTo thank his God, that him hath sent a wife;\r\nOr elles pray to God him for to send\r\nA wife, to last unto his life\u2019s end.\r\nFor then his life is set in sickerness,*                       *security\r\nHe may not be deceived, as I guess,\r\nSo that he work after his wife\u2019s rede;*                         *counsel\r\nThen may he boldely bear up his head,\r\nThey be so true, and therewithal so wise.\r\nFor which, if thou wilt worken as the wise,\r\nDo alway so as women will thee rede. *                          *counsel\r\nLo how that Jacob, as these clerkes read,\r\nBy good counsel of his mother Rebecc\u2019\r\nBounde the kiddes skin about his neck;\r\nFor which his father\u2019s benison* he wan.                     *benediction\r\nLo Judith, as the story telle can,\r\nBy good counsel she Godde\u2019s people kept,\r\nAnd slew him, Holofernes, while he slept.\r\nLo Abigail, by good counsel, how she\r\nSaved her husband Nabal, when that he\r\nShould have been slain.  And lo, Esther also\r\nBy counsel good deliver\u2019d out of woe\r\nThe people of God, and made him, Mardoche,\r\nOf Assuere enhanced* for to be.                     *advanced in dignity\r\nThere is nothing *in gree superlative*                *of higher esteem*\r\n(As saith Senec) above a humble wife.\r\nSuffer thy wife\u2019s tongue, as Cato bit;*                             *bid\r\nShe shall command, and thou shalt suffer it,\r\nAnd yet she will obey of courtesy.\r\nA wife is keeper of thine husbandry:\r\nWell may the sicke man bewail and weep,\r\nThere as there is no wife the house to keep.\r\nI warne thee, if wisely thou wilt wirch,*                          *work\r\nLove well thy wife, as Christ loveth his church:\r\nThou lov\u2019st thyself, if thou lovest thy wife.\r\nNo man hateth his flesh, but in his life\r\nHe fost\u2019reth it; and therefore bid I thee\r\nCherish thy wife, or thou shalt never the.*                      *thrive\r\nHusband and wife, what *so men jape or play,*         *although men joke\r\nOf worldly folk holde the sicker* way;               and jeer*  *certain\r\nThey be so knit there may no harm betide,\r\nAnd namely* upon the wife\u2019s side.                           * especially\r\n\r\nFor which this January, of whom I told,\r\nConsider\u2019d hath within his dayes old,\r\nThe lusty life, the virtuous quiet,\r\nThat is in marriage honey-sweet.\r\nAnd for his friends upon a day he sent\r\nTo tell them the effect  of his intent.\r\nWith face sad,* his tale he hath them told:              *grave, earnest\r\nHe saide, \u201cFriendes, I am hoar and old,\r\nAnd almost (God wot) on my pitte\u2019s* brink,                      *grave\u2019s\r\nUpon my soule somewhat must I think.\r\nI have my body foolishly dispended,\r\nBlessed be God that it shall be amended;\r\nFor I will be certain a wedded man,\r\nAnd that anon in all the haste I can,\r\nUnto some maiden, fair and tender of age;\r\nI pray you shape* for my marriage                    * arrange, contrive\r\nAll suddenly, for I will not abide:\r\nAnd I will fond* to espy, on my side,                               *try\r\nTo whom I may be wedded hastily.\r\nBut forasmuch as ye be more than,\r\nYe shalle rather* such a thing espy\r\nThan I, and where me best were to ally.\r\nBut one thing warn I you, my friendes dear,\r\nI will none old wife have in no mannere:\r\nShe shall not passe sixteen year certain.\r\nOld fish and younge flesh would I have fain.\r\nBetter,\u201d quoth he, \u201ca pike than a pickerel,*                 *young pike\r\nAnd better than old beef is tender veal.\r\nI will no woman thirty year of age,\r\nIt is but beanestraw and great forage.\r\nAnd eke these olde widows (God it wot)\r\nThey conne* so much craft on Wade\u2019s boat,<5>                       *know\r\n*So muche brooke harm when that them lest,*         *they can do so much\r\nThat with them should I never live in rest.         harm when they wish*\r\nFor sundry schooles make subtle clerkes;\r\nWoman of many schooles half a clerk is.\r\nBut certainly a young thing men may guy,*                         *guide\r\nRight as men may warm wax with handes ply.*                  *bend,mould\r\nWherefore I say you plainly in a clause,\r\nI will none old wife have, right for this cause.\r\nFor if so were I hadde such mischance,\r\nThat I in her could have no pleasance,\r\nThen should I lead my life in avoutrie,*                       *adultery\r\nAnd go straight to the devil when I die.\r\nNor children should I none upon her getten:\r\nYet *were me lever* houndes had me eaten                *I would rather*\r\nThan that mine heritage shoulde fall\r\nIn strange hands: and this I tell you all.\r\nI doubte not I know the cause why\r\nMen shoulde wed: and farthermore know I\r\nThere speaketh many a man of marriage\r\nThat knows no more of it than doth my page,\r\nFor what causes a man should take a wife.\r\nIf he ne may not live chaste his life,\r\nTake him a wife with great devotion,\r\nBecause of lawful procreation\r\nOf children, to th\u2019 honour of God above,\r\nAnd not only for paramour or love;\r\nAnd for they shoulde lechery eschew,\r\nAnd yield their debte when that it is due:\r\nOr for that each of them should help the other\r\nIn mischief,* as a sister shall the brother,                    *trouble\r\nAnd live in chastity full holily.\r\nBut, Sires, by your leave, that am not I,\r\nFor, God be thanked, I dare make avaunt,*                         *boast\r\nI feel my limbes stark* and suffisant                            *strong\r\nTo do all that a man belongeth to:\r\nI wot myselfe best what I may do.\r\nThough I be hoar, I fare as doth a tree,\r\nThat blossoms ere the fruit y-waxen* be;                          *grown\r\nThe blossomy tree is neither dry nor dead;\r\nI feel me now here hoar but on my head.\r\nMine heart and all my limbes are as green\r\nAs laurel through the year is for to seen.*                         *see\r\nAnd, since that ye have heard all mine intent,\r\nI pray you to my will ye would assent.\u201d\r\n\r\nDiverse men diversely him told\r\nOf marriage many examples old;\r\nSome blamed it, some praised it, certain;\r\nBut at the haste, shortly for to sayn\r\n(As all day* falleth altercation                  *constantly, every day\r\nBetwixte friends in disputation),\r\nThere fell a strife betwixt his brethren two,\r\nOf which that one was called Placebo,\r\nJustinus soothly called was that other.\r\n\r\nPlacebo said; \u201cO January, brother,\r\nFull little need have ye, my lord so dear,\r\nCounsel to ask of any that is here:\r\nBut that ye be so full of sapience,\r\nThat you not liketh, for your high prudence,\r\nTo waive* from the word of Solomon.                     *depart, deviate\r\nThis word said he unto us every one;\r\nWork alle thing by counsel, \u2014 thus said he, \u2014\r\nAnd thenne shalt thou not repente thee\r\nBut though that Solomon spake such a word,\r\nMine owen deare brother and my lord,\r\nSo wisly* God my soule bring at rest,                            *surely\r\nI hold your owen counsel is the best.\r\nFor, brother mine, take of me this motive; *     *advice, encouragement\r\nI have now been a court-man all my life,\r\nAnd, God it wot, though I unworthy be,\r\nI have standen in full great degree\r\nAboute lordes of full high estate;\r\nYet had I ne\u2019er with none of them debate;\r\nI never them contraried truely.\r\nI know well that my lord can* more than I;                        *knows\r\nWhat that he saith I hold it firm and stable,\r\nI say the same, or else a thing semblable.\r\nA full great fool is any counsellor\r\nThat serveth any lord of high honour\r\nThat dare presume, or ones thinken it;\r\nThat his counsel should pass his lorde\u2019s wit.\r\nNay, lordes be no fooles by my fay.\r\nYe have yourselfe shewed here to day\r\nSo high sentence,* so holily and well               *judgment, sentiment\r\nThat I consent, and confirm *every deal*                *in every point*\r\nYour wordes all, and your opinioun\r\nBy God, there is no man in all this town\r\nNor in Itale, could better have y-said.\r\nChrist holds him of this counsel well apaid.*                 *satisfied\r\nAnd truely it is a high courage\r\nOf any man that stopen* is in age,                         *advanced <6>\r\nTo take a young wife, by my father\u2019s kin;\r\nYour hearte hangeth on a jolly pin.\r\nDo now in this matter right as you lest,\r\nFor finally I hold it for the best.\u201d\r\n\r\nJustinus, that aye stille sat and heard,\r\nRight in this wise to Placebo answer\u2019d.\r\n\u201cNow, brother mine, be patient I pray,\r\nSince ye have said, and hearken what I say.\r\nSenec, among his other wordes wise,\r\nSaith, that a man ought him right well advise,*                *consider\r\nTo whom he gives his hand or his chattel.\r\nAnd since I ought advise me right well\r\nTo whom I give my good away from me,\r\nWell more I ought advise me, pardie,\r\nTo whom I give my body: for alway\r\nI warn you well it is no childe\u2019s play\r\nTo take a wife without advisement.\r\nMen must inquire (this is mine assent)\r\nWhe\u2019er she be wise, or sober, or dronkelew,*             *given to drink\r\nOr proud, or any other ways a shrew,\r\nA chidester,* or a waster of thy good,                          *a scold\r\nOr rich or poor; or else a man is wood.*                            *mad\r\nAlbeit so, that no man finde shall\r\nNone in this world, that *trotteth whole in all,*           *is sound in\r\nNo man, nor beast, such as men can devise,*     every point*  *describe\r\nBut nathehess it ought enough suffice\r\nWith any wife, if so were that she had\r\nMore goode thewes* than her vices bad:                       * qualities\r\nAnd all this asketh leisure to inquere.\r\nFor, God it wot, I have wept many a tear\r\nFull privily, since I have had a wife.\r\nPraise whoso will a wedded manne\u2019s life,\r\nCertes, I find in it but cost and care,\r\nAnd observances of all blisses bare.\r\nAnd yet, God wot, my neighebours about,\r\nAnd namely* of women many a rout,**                *especially **company\r\nSay that I have the moste steadfast wife,\r\nAnd eke the meekest one, that beareth life.\r\nBut I know best where wringeth* me my shoe,                     *pinches\r\nYe may for me right as you like do\r\nAdvise you, ye be a man of age,\r\nHow that ye enter into marriage;\r\nAnd namely* with a young wife and a fair,                   * especially\r\nBy him that made water, fire, earth, air,\r\nThe youngest man that is in all this rout*                      *company\r\nIs busy enough to bringen it about\r\nTo have his wife alone, truste me:\r\nYe shall not please her fully yeares three,\r\nThis is to say, to do her full pleasance.\r\nA wife asketh full many an observance.\r\nI pray you that ye be not *evil apaid.\u201d*                    *displeased*\r\n\r\n\u201cWell,\u201d quoth this January, \u201cand hast thou said?\r\nStraw for thy Senec, and for thy proverbs,\r\nI counte not a pannier full of herbs\r\nOf schoole termes; wiser men than thou,\r\nAs thou hast heard, assented here right now\r\nTo my purpose: Placebo, what say ye?\u201d\r\n\u201cI say it is a cursed* man,\u201d quoth he,              *ill-natured, wicked\r\n\u201cThat letteth* matrimony, sickerly.\u201d                          *hindereth\r\nAnd with that word they rise up suddenly,\r\nAnd be assented fully, that he should\r\nBe wedded when him list, and where he would.\r\n\r\nHigh fantasy and curious business\r\nFrom day to day gan in the soul impress*             *imprint themselves\r\nOf January about his marriage\r\nMany a fair  shape, and many a fair visage\r\nThere passed through his hearte night by night.\r\nAs whoso took a mirror polish\u2019d bright,\r\nAnd set it in a common market-place,\r\nThen should he see many a figure pace\r\nBy his mirror; and in the same wise\r\nGan January in his thought devise\r\nOf maidens, which that dwelte him beside:\r\nHe wiste not where that he might abide.*           *stay, fix his choice\r\nFor if that one had beauty in her face,\r\nAnother stood so in the people\u2019s grace\r\nFor her sadness* and her benignity,                          *sedateness\r\nThat of the people greatest voice had she:\r\nAnd some were rich and had a badde name.\r\nBut natheless, betwixt earnest and game,\r\nHe at the last appointed him on one,\r\nAnd let all others from his hearte gon,\r\nAnd chose her of his own authority;\r\nFor love is blind all day, and may not see.\r\nAnd when that he was into bed y-brought,\r\nHe pourtray\u2019d in his heart and in his thought\r\nHer freshe beauty, and her age tender,\r\nHer middle small, her armes long and slender,\r\nHer wise governance, her gentleness,\r\nHer womanly bearing, and her sadness.*                       *sedateness\r\nAnd when that he *on her was condescended,*           *had selected her*\r\nHe thought his choice might not be amended;\r\nFor when that he himself concluded had,\r\nHe thought each other manne\u2019 s wit so bad,\r\nThat impossible it were to reply\r\nAgainst his choice; this was his fantasy.\r\nHis friendes sent he to, at his instance,\r\nAnd prayed them to do him that pleasance,\r\nThat hastily they would unto him come;\r\nHe would abridge their labour all and some:\r\nNeeded no more for them to go nor ride,<7>\r\n*He was appointed where he would abide.*            *he had definitively\r\n\r\nPlacebo came, and eke his friendes soon,                made his choice*\r\nAnd *alderfirst he bade them all a boon,*         *first of all he asked\r\nThat none of them no arguments would make              a favour of them*\r\nAgainst the purpose that he had y-take:\r\nWhich purpose was pleasant to God, said he,\r\nAnd very ground of his prosperity.\r\nHe said, there was a maiden in the town,\r\nWhich that of beauty hadde great renown;\r\nAll* were it so she were of small degree,                      *although\r\nSufficed him her youth and her beauty;\r\nWhich maid, he said, he would have to his wife,\r\nTo lead in ease and holiness his life;\r\nAnd thanked God, that he might have her all,\r\nThat no wight with his blisse parte* shall;                *have a share\r\nAnd prayed them to labour in this need,\r\nAnd shape that he faile not to speed:\r\nFor then, he said, his spirit was at ease.\r\n\u201cThen is,\u201d quoth he, \u201cnothing may me displease,\r\nSave one thing pricketh in my conscience,\r\nThe which I will rehearse in your presence.\r\nI have,\u201d quoth he, \u201cheard said, full yore* ago,                    *long\r\nThere may no man have perfect blisses two,\r\nThis is to say, on earth and eke in heaven.\r\nFor though he keep him from the sinne\u2019s seven,\r\nAnd eke from every branch of thilke tree,<8>\r\nYet is there so perfect felicity,\r\nAnd so great *ease and lust,* in marriage,        *comfort and pleasure*\r\nThat ev\u2019r I am aghast,* now in mine age                 *ashamed, afraid\r\nThat I shall head now so merry a life,\r\nSo delicate, withoute woe or strife,\r\nThat I shall have mine heav\u2019n on earthe here.\r\nFor since that very heav\u2019n is bought so dear,\r\nWith tribulation and great penance,\r\nHow should I then, living in such pleasance\r\nAs alle wedded men do with their wives,\r\nCome to the bliss where Christ *etern on live is?*    *lives eternally*\r\nThis is my dread;* and ye, my brethren tway,                      *doubt\r\nAssoile* me this question, I you pray.\u201d                 *resolve, answer\r\n\r\nJustinus, which that hated his folly,\r\nAnswer\u2019d anon right in his japery;*                *mockery, jesting way\r\nAnd, for he would his longe tale abridge,\r\nHe woulde no authority* allege,                           *written texts\r\nBut saide; \u201cSir, so there be none obstacle\r\nOther than this, God of his high miracle,\r\nAnd of his mercy, may so for you wirch,*                           *work\r\nThat, ere ye have your rights of holy church,\r\nYe may repent of wedded manne\u2019s life,\r\nIn which ye say there is no woe nor strife:\r\nAnd elles God forbid, *but if* he sent                           *unless\r\nA wedded man his grace him to repent\r\nWell often, rather than a single man.\r\nAnd therefore, Sir, *the beste rede I can,*   *this is the best counsel\r\nDespair you not, but have in your memory,                   that I know*\r\nParaventure she may be your purgatory;\r\nShe may be Godde\u2019s means, and Godde\u2019s whip;\r\nAnd then your soul shall up to heaven skip\r\nSwifter than doth an arrow from a bow.\r\nI hope to God hereafter ye shall know\r\nThat there is none so great felicity\r\nIn marriage, nor ever more shall be,\r\nThat you shall let* of your salvation;                           *hinder\r\nSo that ye use, as skill is and reason,\r\nThe lustes* of your wife attemperly,**           *pleasures **moderately\r\nAnd that ye please her not too amorously,\r\nAnd that ye keep you eke from other sin.\r\nMy tale is done, for my wit is but thin.\r\nBe not aghast* hereof, my brother dear,                 *aharmed, afraid\r\nBut let us waden out of this mattere,\r\nThe Wife of Bath, if ye have understand,\r\nOf marriage, which ye have now in hand,\r\nDeclared hath full well in little space;\r\nFare ye now well, God have you in his grace.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with this word this Justin\u2019 and his brother\r\nHave ta\u2019en their leave, and each of them of other.\r\nAnd when they saw that it must needes be,\r\nThey wroughte so, by sleight and wise treaty,\r\nThat she, this maiden, which that *Maius hight,*         *was named May*\r\nAs hastily as ever that she might,\r\nShall wedded be unto this January.\r\nI trow it were too longe you to tarry,\r\nIf I told you of every *script and band*                  *written bond*\r\nBy which she was feoffed in his hand;\r\nOr for to reckon of her rich array\r\nBut finally y-comen is the day\r\nThat to the churche bothe be they went,\r\nFor to receive the holy sacrament,\r\nForth came the priest, with stole about his neck,\r\nAnd bade her be like Sarah and Rebecc\u2019\r\nIn wisdom and in truth of marriage;\r\nAnd said his orisons, as is usage,\r\nAnd crouched* them, and prayed God should them bless,           *crossed\r\nAnd made all sicker* enough with holiness.                      *certain\r\n\r\nThus be they wedded with solemnity;\r\nAnd at the feaste sat both he and she,\r\nWith other worthy folk, upon the dais.\r\nAll full of joy and bliss is the palace,\r\nAnd full of instruments, and of vitaille, *              *victuals, food\r\nThe moste dainteous* of all Itale.                             *delicate\r\nBefore them stood such instruments of soun\u2019,\r\nThat Orpheus, nor of Thebes Amphioun,\r\nNe made never such a melody.\r\nAt every course came in loud minstrelsy,\r\nThat never Joab trumped for to hear,\r\nNor he, Theodomas, yet half so clear\r\nAt Thebes, when the city was in doubt.\r\nBacchus the wine them skinked* all about.                    *poured <9>\r\nAnd Venus laughed upon every wight\r\n(For January was become her knight,\r\nAnd woulde both assaye his courage\r\nIn liberty, and eke in marriage),\r\nAnd with her firebrand in her hand about\r\nDanced before the bride and all the rout.\r\nAnd certainly I dare right well say this,\r\nHymeneus, that god of wedding is,\r\nSaw never his life so merry a wedded man.\r\nHold thou thy peace, thou poet Marcian,<10>\r\nThat writest us that ilke* wedding merry                           *same\r\nOf her Philology and him Mercury,\r\nAnd of the songes that the Muses sung;\r\nToo small is both thy pen, and eke thy tongue\r\nFor to describen of this marriage.\r\nWhen tender youth hath wedded stooping age,\r\nThere is such mirth that it may not be writ;\r\nAssay it youreself, then may ye wit*                               *know\r\nIf that I lie or no in this mattere.\r\n\r\nMaius, that sat with so benign a cheer,*                    *countenance\r\nHer to behold it seemed faerie;\r\nQueen Esther never look\u2019d with such an eye\r\nOn Assuere, so meek a look had she;\r\nI may you not devise all her beauty;\r\nBut thus much of her beauty tell I may,\r\nThat she was hike the bright morrow of May\r\nFull filled of all beauty and pleasance.\r\nThis January is ravish\u2019d in a trance,\r\nAt every time he looked in her face;\r\nBut in his heart he gan her to menace,\r\nThat he that night in armes would her strain\r\nHarder than ever Paris did Helene.\r\nBut natheless yet had he great pity\r\nThat thilke night offende her must he,\r\nAnd thought, \u201cAlas, O tender creature,\r\nNow woulde God ye mighte well endure\r\nAll my courage, it is so sharp and keen;\r\nI am aghast* ye shall it not sustene.                            *afraid\r\nBut God forbid that I did all my might.\r\nNow woulde God that it were waxen night,\r\nAnd that the night would lasten evermo\u2019.\r\nI would that all this people were y-go.\u201d*                     *gone away\r\nAnd finally he did all his labour,\r\nAs he best mighte, saving his honour,\r\nTo haste them from the meat in subtle wise.\r\n\r\nThe time came that reason was to rise;\r\nAnd after that men dance, and drinke fast,\r\nAnd spices all about the house they cast,\r\nAnd full of joy and bliss is every man,\r\nAll but a squire, that highte Damian,\r\nWho carv\u2019d before the knight full many a day;\r\nHe was so ravish\u2019d on his lady May,\r\nThat for the very pain he was nigh wood;*                           *mad\r\nAlmost he swelt* and swooned where he stood,                    *fainted\r\nSo sore had Venus hurt him with her brand,\r\nAs that she bare it dancing in her hand.\r\nAnd to his bed he went him hastily;\r\nNo more of him as at this time speak I;\r\nBut there I let him weep enough and plain,*                      *bewail\r\nTill freshe May will rue upon his pain.\r\nO perilous fire, that in the bedstraw breedeth!\r\nO foe familiar,* that his service bedeth!**     *domestic <11> **offers\r\nO servant traitor, O  false homely hewe,*                  *servant <12>\r\nLike to the adder in bosom shy untrue,\r\nGod shield us alle from your acquaintance!\r\nO January, drunken in pleasance\r\nOf marriage, see how thy Damian,\r\nThine owen squier and thy boren* man,                         *born <13>\r\nIntendeth for to do thee villainy:*                  *dishonour, outrage\r\nGod grante thee thine *homehy foe* t\u2019 espy.     *enemy in the household*\r\nFor in this world is no worse pestilence\r\nThan homely foe, all day in thy presence.\r\n\r\nPerformed hath the sun his arc diurn,*                            *daily\r\nNo longer may the body of him sojourn\r\nOn the horizon, in that latitude:\r\nNight with his mantle, that is dark and rude,\r\nGan overspread the hemisphere about:\r\nFor which departed is this *lusty rout*               *pleasant company*\r\nFrom January, with thank on every side.\r\nHome to their houses lustily they ride,\r\nWhere as they do their thinges as them lest,\r\nAnd when they see their time they go to rest.\r\nSoon after that this hasty* January                               *eager\r\nWill go to bed, he will no longer tarry.\r\nHe dranke hippocras, clarre, and vernage <14>\r\nOf spices hot, to increase his courage;\r\nAnd many a lectuary* had he full fine,                           *potion\r\nSuch as the cursed monk Dan Constantine<15>\r\nHath written in his book *de Coitu;*             *of sexual intercourse*\r\nTo eat them all he would nothing eschew:\r\nAnd to his privy friendes thus said he:\r\n\u201cFor Godde\u2019s love, as soon as it may be,\r\nLet *voiden all* this house in courteous wise.\u201d         *everyone leave*\r\nAnd they have done right as he will devise.\r\nMen drinken, and the travers* draw anon;                       *curtains\r\nThe bride is brought to bed as still as stone;\r\nAnd when the bed was with the priest y-bless\u2019d,\r\nOut of the chamber every wight him dress\u2019d,\r\nAnd January hath fast in arms y-take\r\nHis freshe May, his paradise, his make.*                           *mate\r\nHe lulled her, he kissed her full oft;\r\nWith thicke bristles of his beard unsoft,\r\nLike to the skin of houndfish,* sharp as brere**        *dogfish **briar\r\n(For he was shav\u2019n all new in his mannere),\r\nHe rubbed her upon her tender face,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cAlas! I must trespace\r\nTo you, my spouse, and you greatly offend,\r\nEre time come that I will down descend.\r\nBut natheless consider this,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cThere is no workman, whatsoe\u2019er he be,\r\nThat may both worke well and hastily:\r\nThis will be done at leisure perfectly.\r\nIt is *no force* how longe that we play;                     *no matter*\r\nIn true wedlock coupled be we tway;\r\nAnd blessed be the yoke that we be in,\r\nFor in our actes may there be no sin.\r\nA man may do no sinne with his wife,\r\nNor hurt himselfe with his owen knife;\r\nFor we have leave to play us by the law.\u201d\r\n\r\nThus labour\u2019d he, till that the day gan daw,\r\nAnd then he took a sop in fine clarre,\r\nAnd upright in his bedde then sat he.\r\nAnd after that he sang full loud and clear,\r\nAnd kiss\u2019d his wife, and made wanton cheer.\r\nHe was all coltish, full of ragerie *                        *wantonness\r\nAnd full of jargon as a flecked pie.<16>\r\nThe slacke skin about his necke shaked,\r\nWhile that he sang, so chanted he and craked.*                 *quavered\r\nBut God wot what that May thought in her heart,\r\nWhen she him saw up sitting in his shirt\r\nIn his night-cap, and with his necke lean:\r\nShe praised not his playing worth a bean.\r\nThen said he thus; \u201cMy reste will I take\r\nNow day is come, I may no longer wake;\r\nAnd down he laid his head and slept till prime.\r\nAnd afterward, when that he saw his time,\r\nUp rose January, but freshe May\r\nHelde her chamber till the fourthe day,\r\nAs usage is of wives for the best.\r\nFor every labour some time must have rest,\r\nOr elles longe may he not endure;\r\nThis is to say, no life of creature,\r\nBe it of fish, or bird, or beast, or man.\r\n\r\nNow will I speak of woeful Damian,\r\nThat languisheth for love, as ye shall hear;\r\nTherefore I speak to him in this manneare.\r\nI say. \u201cO silly Damian, alas!\r\nAnswer to this demand, as in this case,\r\nHow shalt thou to thy lady, freshe May,\r\nTelle thy woe? She will alway say nay;\r\nEke if thou speak, she will thy woe bewray; *                    *betray\r\nGod be thine help, I can no better say.\r\nThis sicke Damian in Venus\u2019 fire\r\nSo burned that he died for desire;\r\nFor which he put his life *in aventure,*                       *at risk*\r\nNo longer might he in this wise endure;\r\nBut privily a penner* gan he borrow,                       *writing-case\r\nAnd in a letter wrote he all his sorrow,\r\nIn manner of a complaint or a lay,\r\nUnto his faire freshe lady May.\r\nAnd in a purse of silk, hung on his shirt,\r\nHe hath it put, and laid it at his heart.\r\n\r\nThe moone, that at noon was thilke* day                            *that\r\nThat January had wedded freshe May,\r\nIn ten of Taure, was into Cancer glided;<17>\r\nSo long had Maius in her chamber abided,\r\nAs custom is unto these nobles all.\r\nA bride shall not eaten in the ball\r\nTill dayes four, or three days at the least,\r\nY-passed be; then let her go to feast.\r\nThe fourthe day complete from noon to noon,\r\nWhen that the highe masse was y-done,\r\nIn halle sat this January, and May,\r\nAs fresh as is the brighte summer\u2019s day.\r\nAnd so befell, how that this goode man\r\nRemember\u2019d him upon this Damian.\r\nAnd saide; \u201cSaint Mary, how may this be,\r\nThat Damian attendeth not to me?\r\nIs he aye sick? or how may this betide?\u201d\r\nHis squiers, which that stoode there beside,\r\nExcused him, because of his sickness,\r\nWhich letted* him to do his business:                          *hindered\r\nNone other cause mighte make him tarry.\r\n\u201cThat me forthinketh,\u201d* quoth this January              *grieves, causes\r\n\u201cHe is a gentle squier, by my truth;                          uneasiness\r\nIf that he died, it were great harm and ruth.\r\nHe is as wise, as discreet, and secre\u2019,*                 *secret, trusty\r\nAs any man I know of his degree,\r\nAnd thereto manly and eke serviceble,\r\nAnd for to be a thrifty man right able.\r\nBut after meat, as soon as ever I may\r\nI will myself visit him, and eke May,\r\nTo do him all the comfort that I can.\u201d\r\nAnd for that word him blessed every man,\r\nThat of his bounty and his gentleness\r\nHe woulde so comforten in sickness\r\nHis squier, for it was a gentle deed.\r\n\r\n\u201cDame,\u201d quoth this January, \u201ctake good heed,\r\nAt after meat, ye with your women all\r\n(When that ye be in chamb\u2019r out of this hall),\r\nThat all ye go to see this Damian:\r\nDo him disport, he is a gentle man;\r\nAnd telle him that I will him visite,\r\n*Have I nothing but rested me a lite:*          *when only I have rested\r\nAnd speed you faste, for I will abide                       me a little*\r\nTill that ye sleepe faste by my side.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word he gan unto him call\r\nA squier, that was marshal of his hall,\r\nAnd told him certain thinges that he wo\u2019ld.\r\nThis freshe May hath straight her way y-hold,\r\nWith all her women, unto Damian.\r\nDown by his beddes side sat she than,*                             *then\r\nComforting him as goodly as she may.\r\nThis Damian, when that his time he say,*                            *saw\r\nIn secret wise his purse, and eke his bill,\r\nIn which that he y-written had his will,\r\nHath put into her hand withoute more,\r\nSave that he sighed wondrous deep and sore,\r\nAnd softely to her right thus said he:\r\n\u201cMercy, and that ye not discover me:\r\nFor I am dead if that this thing be kid.\u201d*              *discovered <18>\r\nThe purse hath she in her bosom hid,\r\nAnd went her way; ye get no more of me;\r\nBut unto January come is she,\r\nThat on his bedde\u2019s side sat full soft.\r\nHe took her, and he kissed her full oft,\r\nAnd laid him down to sleep, and that anon.\r\nShe feigned her as that she muste gon\r\nThere as ye know that every wight must need;\r\nAnd when she of this bill had taken heed,\r\nShe rent it all to cloutes* at the last,                      *fragments\r\nAnd in the privy softely it cast.\r\nWho studieth* now but faire freshe May?                   *is thoughtful\r\nAdown by olde January she lay,\r\nThat slepte, till the cough had him awaked:\r\nAnon he pray\u2019d her strippe her all naked,\r\nHe would of her, he said, have some pleasance;\r\nAnd said her clothes did him incumbrance.\r\nAnd she obey\u2019d him, be her *lefe or loth.*        *willing or unwilling*\r\nBut, lest that precious* folk be with me wroth,          *over-nice <19>\r\nHow that he wrought I dare not to you tell,\r\nOr whether she thought it paradise or hell;\r\nBut there I let them worken in their wise\r\nTill evensong ring, and they must arise.\r\n\r\nWere it by destiny, or aventure,*                               * chance\r\nWere it by influence, or by nature,\r\nOr constellation, that in such estate\r\nThe heaven stood at that time fortunate\r\nAs for to put a bill of Venus\u2019 works\r\n(For alle thing hath time, as say these clerks),\r\nTo any woman for to get her love,\r\nI cannot say; but greate God above,\r\nThat knoweth that none act is causeless,\r\n*He deem* of all, for I will hold my peace.              *let him judge*\r\nBut sooth is this, how that this freshe May\r\nHath taken such impression that day\r\nOf pity on this sicke Damian,\r\nThat from her hearte she not drive can\r\nThe remembrance for *to do him ease.*                        *to satisfy\r\n\u201cCertain,\u201d thought she, \u201cwhom that this thing displease      his desire*\r\nI recke not, for here I him assure,\r\nTo love him best of any creature,\r\nThough he no more haddee than his shirt.\u201d\r\nLo, pity runneth soon in gentle heart.\r\nHere may ye see, how excellent franchise*                    *generosity\r\nIn women is when they them *narrow advise.*           *closely consider*\r\nSome tyrant is, \u2014 as there be many a one, \u2014\r\nThat hath a heart as hard as any stone,\r\nWhich would have let him sterven* in the place                      *die\r\nWell rather than have granted him her grace;\r\nAnd then rejoicen in her cruel pride.\r\nAnd reckon not to be a homicide.\r\nThis gentle May, full filled of pity,\r\nRight of her hand a letter maked she,\r\nIn which she granted him her very grace;\r\nThere lacked nought, but only day and place,\r\nWhere that she might unto his lust suffice:\r\nFor it shall be right as he will devise.\r\nAnd when she saw her time upon a day\r\nTo visit this Damian went this May,\r\nAnd subtilly this letter down she thrust\r\nUnder his pillow, read it if him lust.*                         *pleased\r\nShe took him by the hand, and hard him twist\r\nSo secretly, that no wight of it wist,\r\nAnd bade him be all whole; and forth she went\r\nTo January, when he for her sent.\r\nUp rose Damian the nexte morrow,\r\nAll passed was his sickness and his sorrow.\r\nHe combed him, he proined <20> him and picked,\r\nHe did all that unto his lady liked;\r\nAnd eke to January he went as low\r\nAs ever did a dogge for the bow.<21>\r\nHe is so pleasant unto every man\r\n(For craft is all, whoso that do it can),\r\nEvery wight is fain to speak him good;\r\nAnd fully in his lady\u2019s grace he stood.\r\nThus leave I Damian about his need,\r\nAnd in my tale forth I will proceed.\r\n\r\nSome clerke* holde that felicity                      *writers, scholars\r\nStands in delight; and therefore certain he,\r\nThis noble January, with all his might\r\nIn honest wise as longeth* to a knight,                       *belongeth\r\nShope* him to live full deliciously:                 *prepared, arranged\r\nHis housing, his array, as honestly*               *honourably, suitably\r\nTo his degree was maked as a king\u2019s.\r\nAmonges other of his honest things\r\nHe had a garden walled all with stone;\r\nSo fair a garden wot I nowhere none.\r\nFor out of doubt I verily suppose\r\nThat he that wrote the Romance of the Rose <22>\r\nCould not of it the beauty well devise;*                       *describe\r\nNor Priapus <23> mighte not well suffice,\r\nThough he be god of gardens, for to tell\r\nThe beauty of the garden, and the well*                        *fountain\r\nThat stood under a laurel always green.\r\nFull often time he, Pluto, and his queen\r\nProserpina, and all their faerie,\r\nDisported them and made melody\r\nAbout that well, and danced, as men told.\r\nThis noble knight, this January old\r\nSuch dainty* had in it to walk and play,                       *pleasure\r\nThat he would suffer no wight to bear the key,\r\nSave he himself, for of the small wicket\r\nHe bare always of silver a cliket,*                                 *key\r\nWith which, when that him list, he it unshet.*                   *opened\r\nAnd when that he would pay his wife\u2019s debt,\r\nIn summer season, thither would he go,\r\nAnd May his wife, and no wight but they two;\r\nAnd thinges which that were not done in bed,\r\nHe in the garden them perform\u2019d and sped.\r\nAnd in this wise many a merry day\r\nLived this January and fresh May,\r\nBut worldly joy may not always endure\r\nTo January, nor to no creatucere.\r\n\r\nO sudden hap! O thou fortune unstable!\r\nLike to the scorpion so deceivable,*                          *deceitful\r\nThat fhatt\u2019rest with thy head when thou wilt sting;\r\nThy tail is death, through thine envenoming.\r\nO brittle joy! O sweete poison quaint!*                         *strange\r\nO monster, that so subtilly canst paint\r\nThy giftes, under hue of steadfastness,\r\nThat thou deceivest bothe *more and less!*             *great and small*\r\nWhy hast thou January thus deceiv\u2019d,\r\nThat haddest him for thy full friend receiv\u2019d?\r\nAnd now thou hast bereft him both his eyen,\r\nFor sorrow of which desireth he to dien.\r\nAlas! this noble January free,\r\nAmid his lust* and his prosperity                              *pleasure\r\nIs waxen blind, and that all suddenly.\r\nHe weeped and he wailed piteously;\r\nAnd therewithal the fire of jealousy\r\n(Lest that his wife should fall in some folly)\r\nSo burnt his hearte, that he woulde fain,\r\nThat some man bothe him and her had slain;\r\nFor neither after his death, nor in his life,\r\nNe would he that she were no love nor wife,\r\nBut ever live as widow in clothes black,\r\nSole as the turtle that hath lost her make.*                       *mate\r\nBut at the last, after a month or tway,\r\nHis sorrow gan assuage, soothe to say.\r\nFor, when he wist it might none other be,\r\nHe patiently took his adversity:\r\nSave out of doubte he may not foregon\r\nThat he was jealous evermore-in-one:*                       *continually\r\nWhich jealousy was so outrageous,\r\nThat neither in hall, nor in none other house,\r\nNor in none other place never the mo\u2019\r\nHe woulde suffer her to ride or go,\r\n*But if* that he had hand on her alway.                          *unless\r\nFor which full often wepte freshe May,\r\nThat loved Damian so burningly\r\nThat she must either dien suddenly,\r\nOr elles she must have him as her lest:*                        *pleased\r\nShe waited* when her hearte woulde brest.**            *expected **burst\r\nUpon that other side Damian\r\nBecomen is the sorrowfullest man\r\nThat ever was; for neither night nor day\r\nHe mighte speak a word to freshe May,\r\nAs to his purpose, of no such mattere,\r\n*But if* that January must it hear,                             *unless*\r\nThat had a hand upon her evermo\u2019.\r\nBut natheless, by writing to and fro,\r\nAnd privy signes, wist he what she meant,\r\nAnd she knew eke the fine* of his intent.                      *end, aim\r\n\r\nO January, what might it thee avail,\r\nThough thou might see as far as shippes sail?\r\nFor as good is it blind deceiv\u2019d to be,\r\nAs be deceived when a man may see.\r\nLo, Argus, which that had a hundred eyen, <24>\r\nFor all that ever he could pore or pryen,\r\nYet was he blent;* and, God wot, so be mo\u2019,                    *deceived\r\nThat *weene wisly* that it be not so:                *think confidently*\r\nPass over is an ease, I say no more.\r\nThis freshe May, of which I spake yore,*                     *previously\r\nIn warm wax hath *imprinted the cliket*             *taken an impression\r\nThat January bare of the small wicket                        of the key*\r\nBy which into his garden oft he went;\r\nAnd Damian, that knew all her intent,\r\nThe cliket counterfeited privily;\r\nThere is no more to say, but hastily\r\nSome wonder by this cliket shall betide,\r\nWhich ye shall hearen, if ye will abide.\r\n\r\nO noble Ovid, sooth say\u2019st thou, God wot,\r\nWhat sleight is it, if love be long and hot,\r\nThat he\u2019ll not find it out in some mannere?\r\nBy Pyramus and Thisbe may men lear;*                              *learn\r\nThough they were kept full long and strait o\u2019er all,\r\nThey be accorded,* rowning** through a wall,        *agreed\t**whispering\r\nWhere no wight could have found out such a sleight.\r\nBut now to purpose; ere that dayes eight\r\nWere passed of the month of July, fill*                       *it befell\r\nThat January caught so great a will,\r\nThrough egging* of his wife, him for to play                   *inciting\r\nIn his garden, and no wight but they tway,\r\nThat in a morning to this May said he: <25>\r\n\u201cRise up, my wife, my love, my lady free;\r\nThe turtle\u2019s voice is heard, mine owen sweet;\r\nThe winter is gone, with all his raines weet.*                      *wet\r\nCome forth now with thine *eyen columbine*         *eyes like the doves*\r\nWell fairer be thy breasts than any wine.\r\nThe garden is enclosed all about;\r\nCome forth, my white spouse; for, out of doubt,\r\nThou hast me wounded in mine heart, O wife:\r\nNo spot in thee was e\u2019er in all thy life.\r\nCome forth, and let us taken our disport;\r\nI choose thee for my wife and my comfort.\u201d\r\nSuch olde lewed* wordes used he.                      *foolish, ignorant\r\nOn Damian a signe made she,\r\nThat he should go before with his cliket.\r\nThis Damian then hath opened the wicket,\r\nAnd in he start, and that in such mannere\r\nThat no wight might him either see or hear;\r\nAnd still he sat under a bush. Anon\r\nThis January, as blind as is a stone,\r\nWith Maius in his hand, and no wight mo\u2019,\r\nInto this freshe garden is y-go,\r\nAnd clapped to the wicket suddenly.\r\n\u201cNow, wife,\u201d quoth he, \u201chere is but thou and I;\r\nThou art the creature that I beste love:\r\nFor, by that Lord that sits in heav\u2019n above,\r\nLever* I had to dien on a knife,                                 *rather\r\nThan thee offende, deare true wife.\r\nFor Godde\u2019s sake, think how I thee chees,*                        *chose\r\nNot for no covetise* doubteless,                          * covetousness\r\nBut only for the love I had to thee.\r\nAnd though that I be old, and may not see,\r\nBe to me true, and I will tell you why.\r\nCertes three thinges shall ye win thereby:\r\nFirst, love of Christ, and to yourself honour,\r\nAnd all mine heritage, town and tow\u2019r.\r\nI give it you, make charters as you lest;\r\nThis shall be done to-morrow ere sun rest,\r\nSo wisly* God my soule bring to bliss!                           *surely\r\nI pray you, on this covenant me kiss.\r\nAnd though that I be jealous, wite* me not;                       *blame\r\nYe be so deep imprinted in my thought,\r\nThat when that I consider your beauty,\r\nAnd therewithal *th\u2019unlikely eld* of me,                *dissimilar age*\r\nI may not, certes, though I shoulde die,\r\nForbear to be out of your company,\r\nFor very love; this is withoute doubt:\r\nNow kiss me, wife, and let us roam about.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis freshe May, when she these wordes heard,\r\nBenignely to January answer\u2019d;\r\nBut first and forward she began to weep:\r\n\u201cI have,\u201d quoth she, \u201ca soule for to keep\r\nAs well as ye, and also mine honour,\r\nAnd of my wifehood thilke* tender flow\u2019r                      *that same\r\nWhich that I have assured in your hond,\r\nWhen that the priest to you my body bond:\r\nWherefore I will answer in this mannere,\r\nWith leave of you mine owen lord so dear.\r\nI pray to God, that never dawn the day\r\nThat I *no sterve,* as foul as woman may,                   *do not die*\r\nIf e\u2019er I do unto my kin that shame,\r\nOr elles I impaire so my name,\r\nThat I bee false; and if I do that lack,\r\nDo strippe me, and put me in a sack,\r\nAnd in the nexte river do me drench:*                             *drown\r\nI am a gentle woman, and no wench.\r\nWhy speak ye thus? but men be e\u2019er untrue,\r\nAnd women have reproof of you aye new.\r\nYe know none other dalliance, I believe,\r\nBut speak to us of untrust and repreve.\u201d*                       *reproof\r\n\r\nAnd with that word she saw where Damian\r\nSat in the bush, and coughe she began;\r\nAnd with her finger signe made she,\r\nThat Damian should climb upon a tree\r\nThat charged was with fruit; and up he went:\r\nFor verily he knew all her intent,\r\nAnd every signe that she coulde make,\r\nBetter than January her own make.*                                 *mate\r\nFor in a letter she had told him all\r\nOf this matter, how that he worke shall.\r\nAnd thus I leave him sitting in the perry,*                   *pear-tree\r\nAnd January and May roaming full merry.\r\n\r\nBright was the day, and blue the firmament;\r\nPhoebus of gold his streames down had sent\r\nTo gladden every flow\u2019r with his warmness;\r\nHe was that time in Geminis, I guess,\r\nBut little from his declination\r\nOf Cancer, Jove\u2019s exaltation.\r\nAnd so befell, in that bright morning-tide,\r\nThat in the garden, on the farther side,\r\nPluto, that is the king of Faerie,\r\nAnd many a lady in his company\r\nFollowing his wife, the queen Proserpina, \u2014\r\nWhich that he ravished out of Ethna,<26>\r\nWhile that she gather\u2019d flowers in the mead\r\n(In Claudian ye may the story read,\r\nHow in his grisly chariot he her fet*), \u2014                      *fetched\r\nThis king of Faerie adown him set\r\nUpon a bank of turfes fresh and green,\r\nAnd right anon thus said he to his queen.\r\n\u201cMy wife,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthere may no wight say nay, \u2014\r\nExperience so proves it every day, \u2014\r\nThe treason which that woman doth to man.\r\nTen hundred thousand stories tell I can\r\nNotable of your untruth and brittleness *                   *inconstancy\r\nO Solomon, richest of all richess,\r\nFull fill\u2019d of sapience and worldly glory,\r\nFull worthy be thy wordes of memory\r\nTo every wight that wit and reason can. *                         *knows\r\nThus praised he yet the bounte* of man:                        *goodness\r\n\u2018Among a thousand men yet found I one,\r\nBut of all women found I never none.\u2019 <27>\r\nThus said this king, that knew your wickedness;\r\nAnd Jesus, Filius Sirach, <28> as I guess,\r\nHe spake of you but seldom reverence.\r\nA wilde fire and corrupt pestilence\r\nSo fall upon your bodies yet to-night!\r\nNe see ye not this honourable knight?\r\nBecause, alas! that he is blind and old,\r\nHis owen man shall make him cuckold.\r\nLo, where he sits, the lechour, in the tree.\r\nNow will I granten, of my majesty,\r\nUnto this olde blinde worthy knight,\r\nThat he shall have again his eyen sight,\r\nWhen that his wife will do him villainy;\r\nThen shall be knowen all her harlotry,\r\nBoth in reproof of her and other mo\u2019.\u201d\r\n\u201cYea, Sir,\u201d quoth Proserpine,\u201d and will ye so?\r\nNow by my mother Ceres\u2019 soul I swear\r\nThat I shall give her suffisant answer,\r\nAnd alle women after, for her sake;\r\nThat though they be in any guilt y-take,\r\nWith face bold they shall themselves excuse,\r\nAnd bear them down that woulde them accuse.\r\nFor lack of answer, none of them shall dien.\r\n\r\nAll* had ye seen a thing with both your eyen,                  *although\r\nYet shall *we visage it* so hardily,                       *confront it*\r\nAnd weep, and swear, and chide subtilly,\r\nThat ye shall be as lewed* as be geese.            *ignorant, confounded\r\nWhat recketh me of your authorities?\r\nI wot well that this Jew, this Solomon,\r\nFound of us women fooles many one:\r\nBut though that he founde no good woman,\r\nYet there hath found many another man\r\nWomen full good, and true, and virtuous;\r\nWitness on them that dwelt in Christes house;\r\nWith martyrdom they proved their constance.\r\nThe Roman gestes <29> make remembrance\r\nOf many a very true wife also.\r\nBut, Sire, be not wroth, albeit so,\r\nThough that he said he found no good woman,\r\nI pray you take the sentence* of the man:         *opinion, real meaning\r\nHe meant thus, that in *sovereign bounte*              *perfect goodness\r\nIs none but God, no, neither *he nor she.*               *man nor woman*\r\nHey, for the very God that is but one,\r\nWhy make ye so much of Solomon?\r\nWhat though he made a temple, Godde\u2019s house?\r\nWhat though he were rich and glorious?\r\nSo made he eke a temple of false goddes;\r\nHow might he do a thing that more forbode* is?                *forbidden\r\nPardie, as fair as ye his name emplaster,*   *plaster over, \u201cwhitewash\u201d\r\nHe was a lechour, and an idolaster,*                           *idohater\r\nAnd in his eld he very* God forsook.                           *the true\r\nAnd if that God had not (as saith the book)\r\nSpared him for his father\u2019s sake, he should\r\nHave lost his regne* rather** than he would.           *kingdom **sooner\r\nI *sette not of*  all the villainy                           *value not*\r\nThat he of women wrote, a butterfly.\r\nI am a woman, needes must I speak,\r\nOr elles swell until mine hearte break.\r\nFor since he said that we be jangleresses,*                  *chatterers\r\nAs ever may I brooke* whole my tresses,                        *preserve\r\nI shall not spare for no courtesy\r\nTo speak him harm, that said us villainy.\u201d\r\n\u201cDame,\u201d quoth this Pluto, \u201cbe no longer wroth;\r\nI give it up: but, since I swore mine oath\r\nThat I would grant to him his sight again,\r\nMy word shall stand, that warn I you certain:\r\nI am a king; it sits* me not to lie.\u201d                   *becomes, befits\r\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d quoth she, \u201cam queen of Faerie.\r\nHer answer she shall have, I undertake,\r\nLet us no more wordes of it make.\r\nForsooth, I will no longer you contrary.\u201d\r\n\r\nNow let us turn again to January,\r\nThat in the garden with his faire May\r\nSingeth well merrier than the popinjay:*                         *parrot\r\n\u201cYou love I best, and shall, and other none.\u201d\r\nSo long about the alleys is he gone,\r\nTill he was come to *that ilke perry,*              *the same pear-tree*\r\nWhere as this Damian satte full merry\r\nOn high, among the freshe leaves green.\r\nThis freshe May, that is so bright and sheen,\r\nGan for to sigh, and said, \u201cAlas my side!\r\nNow, Sir,\u201d quoth she, \u201cfor aught that may betide,\r\nI must have of the peares that I see,\r\nOr I must die, so sore longeth me\r\nTo eaten of the smalle peares green;\r\nHelp, for her love that is of heaven queen!\r\nI tell you well, a woman in my plight <30>\r\nMay have to fruit so great an appetite,\r\nThat she may dien, but* she of it have. \u201c                        *unless\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201cthat I had here a knave*                     *servant\r\nThat coulde climb; alas! alas!\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cFor I am blind.\u201d  \u201cYea, Sir, *no force,\u201d* quoth she;        *no matter*\r\n\u201cBut would ye vouchesafe, for Godde\u2019s sake,\r\nThe perry in your armes for to take\r\n(For well I wot that ye mistruste me),\r\nThen would I climbe well enough,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cSo I my foot might set upon your back.\u201d\r\n\u201cCertes,\u201d said he, \u201ctherein shall be no lack,\r\nMight I you helpe with mine hearte\u2019s blood.\u201d\r\nHe stooped down, and on his back she stood,\r\nAnd caught her by a twist,* and up she go\u2019th.               *twig, bough\r\n(Ladies, I pray you that ye be not wroth,\r\nI cannot glose,* I am a rude man):                        *mince matters\r\nAnd suddenly anon this Damian\r\nGan pullen up the smock, and in he throng.*                 *rushed <31>\r\nAnd when that Pluto saw this greate wrong,\r\nTo January he gave again his sight,\r\nAnd made him see as well as ever he might.\r\nAnd when he thus had caught his sight again,\r\nWas never man of anything so fain:\r\nBut on his wife his thought was evermo\u2019.\r\nUp to the tree he cast his eyen two,\r\nAnd saw how Damian his wife had dress\u2019d,\r\nIn such mannere, it may not be express\u2019d,\r\n*But if* I woulde speak uncourteously.                          *unless*\r\nAnd up he gave a roaring and a cry,\r\nAs doth the mother when the child shall die;\r\n\u201cOut! help! alas! harow!\u201d he gan to cry;\r\n\u201cO stronge, lady, stowre! <32> what doest thou?\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd she answered: \u201cSir, what aileth you?\r\nHave patience and reason in your mind,\r\nI have you help\u2019d on both your eyen blind.\r\nOn peril of my soul, I shall not lien,\r\nAs me was taught to helpe with your eyen,\r\nWas nothing better for to make you see,\r\nThan struggle with a man upon a tree:\r\nGod wot, I did it in full good intent.\u201d\r\n\u201cStruggle!\u201d quoth he, \u201cyea, algate* in it went.            *whatever way\r\nGod give you both one shame\u2019s death to dien!\r\nHe swived* thee; I saw it with mine eyen;              *enjoyed carnally\r\nAnd elles be I hanged by the halse.\u201d*                              *neck\r\n\u201cThen is,\u201d quoth she, \u201cmy medicine all false;\r\nFor certainly, if that ye mighte see,\r\nYe would not say these wordes unto me.\r\nYe have some glimpsing,* and no perfect sight.\u201d              *glimmering\r\n\u201cI see,\u201d quoth he, \u201cas well as ever I might,\r\n(Thanked be God!) with both mine eyen two,\r\nAnd by my faith me thought he did thee so.\u201d\r\n\u201cYe maze,*  ye maze, goode Sir,\u201d quoth she;          *rave, are confused\r\n\u201cThis thank have I for I have made you see:\r\nAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201cthat e\u2019er I was so kind.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, Dame,\u201d quoth he, \u201clet all pass out of mind;\r\nCome down, my lefe,* and if I have missaid,                        *love\r\nGod help me so, as I am *evil apaid.*                     *dissatisfied*\r\nBut, by my father\u2019s soul, I ween\u2019d have seen\r\nHow that this Damian had by thee lain,\r\nAnd that thy smock had lain upon his breast.\u201d\r\n\u201cYea, Sir,\u201d quoth she, \u201cye may *ween as ye lest:*          *think as you\r\nBut, Sir, a man that wakes out of his sleep,                     please*\r\nHe may not suddenly well take keep*                              *notice\r\nUpon a thing, nor see it perfectly,\r\nTill that he be adawed* verily.                                *awakened\r\nRight so a man, that long hath blind y-be,\r\nHe may not suddenly so well y-see,\r\nFirst when his sight is newe come again,\r\nAs he that hath a day or two y-seen.\r\nTill that your sight establish\u2019d be a while,\r\nThere may full many a sighte you beguile.\r\nBeware, I pray you, for, by heaven\u2019s king,\r\nFull many a man weeneth to see a thing,\r\nAnd it is all another than it seemeth;\r\nHe which that misconceiveth oft misdeemeth.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word she leapt down from the tree.\r\nThis January, who is glad but he?\r\nHe kissed her, and clipped* her full oft,                      *embraced\r\nAnd on her womb he stroked her full soft;\r\nAnd to his palace home he hath her lad.*                            *led\r\nNow, goode men, I pray you to be glad.\r\nThus endeth here my tale of January,\r\nGod bless us, and his mother, Sainte Mary.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The Merchant\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. If, as is probable, this Tale was translated from the French,\r\nthe original is not now extant. Tyrwhitt remarks that the scene\r\n\u201cis laid in Italy, but none of the names, except Damian and\r\nJustin, seem to be Italian,  but rather made at pleasure; so that I\r\ndoubt whether the story be really of Italian growth. The\r\nadventure of the pear-tree I find in a small collection of Latin\r\nfables, written by one Adoiphus, in elegiac verses of his fashion,\r\nin the year 1315. . . . Whatever was the real origin of the Tale,\r\nthe machinery of the fairies, which Chaucer has used so happily,\r\nwas probably added by himself; and, indeed, I cannot help\r\nthinking that his Pluto and Proserpina were the true progenitors\r\nof Oberon and Titania; or rather, that they themselves have,\r\nonce at least, deigned to revisit our poetical system under the\r\nlatter names.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. Seculeres: of the laity; but perhaps, since the word is of two-\r\nfold meaning, Chaucer intends a hit at the secular clergy, who,\r\nunlike the regular orders, did not live separate from the world,\r\nbut shared in all its interests and pleasures \u2014 all the more easily\r\nand freely, that they had not the civil restraint of marriage.\r\n\r\n3. This and the next eight lines are taken from the \u201cLiber\r\naureolus Theophrasti de nuptiis,\u201d (\u201cTheophrastus\u2019s Golden\r\nBook of Marriage\u201d) quoted by Hieronymus, \u201cContra\r\nJovinianum,\u201d (\u201cAgainst Jovinian\u201d) and thence again by John of\r\nSalisbury.\r\n\r\n4. Mebles: movables, furniture, &c.; French, \u201cmeubles.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. \u201cWade\u2019s boat\u201d was called Guingelot; and in it, according to\r\nthe old romance, the owner underwent a long series of wild\r\nadventures, and performed many strange exploits.  The romance\r\nis lost, and therefore  the exact force of the phrase in the text is\r\nuncertain; but Mr Wright seems to be warranted in supposing\r\nthat Wade\u2019s adventures were cited as examples of craft and\r\ncunning \u2014 that the hero, in fact, was a kind of Northern\r\nUlysses,  It is possible that to the same source we may trace the\r\nproverbial phrase, found in Chaucer\u2019s \u201cRemedy of Love,\u201d to\r\n\u201cbear Wattis pack\u201d signifying to be duped or beguiled.\r\n\r\n6. Stopen: advanced; past participle of \u201cstep.\u201d Elsewhere\r\n\u201cy-stept in age\u201d is used by Chaucer.\r\n\r\n7. They did not need to go in quest of a wife for him, as they\r\nhad promised.\r\n\r\n8. Thilke tree: that tree of original sin, of which the special sins\r\nare the branches.\r\n\r\n9. Skinked:  poured out; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cscencan.\u201d\r\n\r\n10. Marcianus Capella, who wrote a kind of philosophical\r\nromance, \u201cDe Nuptiis Mercurii et Philologiae\u201d (Of the Marriage\r\nof Mercury and Philology) . \u201cHer\u201d and \u201chim,\u201d two lines after,\r\nlike \u201che\u201d applied to Theodomas, are prefixed to the proper\r\nnames for emphasis, according to the Anglo- Saxon usage.\r\n\r\n11. Familiar: domestic; belonging to the \u201cfamilia,\u201d or household.\r\n\r\n12. Hewe: domestic servant; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201chiwa.\u201d\r\nTyrwhitt reads \u201cfalse of holy hue;\u201d but Mr Wright has properly\r\nrestored the reading adopted in the text.\r\n\r\n13. Boren man: born; owing to January faith and loyalty\r\nbecause born in his household.\r\n\r\n14. Hippocras: spiced wine. Clarre: also a kind of spiced wine.\r\nVernage: a wine believed to have come from Crete, although its\r\nname \u2014 Italian,  \u201cVernaccia\u201d \u2014 seems to be derived from\r\nVerona.\r\n\r\n15. Dan Constantine: a medical author who wrote about 1080;\r\nhis works were printed at Basle in 1536.\r\n\r\n16. Full of jargon as a flecked pie: he chattered like a magpie\r\n\r\n17. Nearly all the manuscripts read \u201cin two of Taure;\u201d but\r\nTyrwhitt has shown that, setting out from the second degree of\r\nTaurus, the moon, which in the four complete days that Maius\r\nspent in her chamber could not have advanced more than fifty-\r\nthree degrees, would only have been at the twenty-fifth degree\r\nof Gemini \u2014 whereas, by reading \u201cten,\u201d she is brought to the\r\nthird degree of Cancer.\r\n\r\n18. Kid; or \u201ckidde,\u201d past participle of  \u201ckythe\u201d or \u201ckithe,\u201d to\r\nshow or discover.\r\n\r\n19. Precious:  precise, over-nice; French, \u201cprecieux,\u201d affected.\r\n\r\n20. Proined: or \u201cpruned;\u201d carefully trimmed and dressed\r\nhimself. The word is used in falconry of a hawk when she picks\r\nand trims her feathers.\r\n\r\n21. A dogge for the bow: a dog attending a hunter with the\r\nbow.\r\n\r\n22  The Romance of the Rose: a very popular mediaeval\r\nromance, the English version of which is partly by Chaucer. It\r\nopens with a description of a beautiful garden.\r\n\r\n23. Priapus:  Son of Bacchus and Venus: he was regarded as\r\nthe promoter of fertility in all agricultural life, vegetable and\r\nanimal; while not only gardens, but fields, flocks, bees \u2014 and\r\neven fisheries \u2014 were supposed to be under his protection.\r\n\r\n24. Argus was employed by Juno to watch Io with his hundred\r\neyes but he was sent to sleep by the flute of Mercury, who then\r\ncut off his head.\r\n\r\n25. \u201cMy beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my\r\nfair one, and come away. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is\r\nover and gone: The flowers appear on the earth, the time of the\r\nsinging of the birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard\r\nin our land.\u201d\r\n\u2014 Song of Solomon, ii. 10-12.\r\n\r\n26.                \u201cThat fair field,\r\nOf Enna, where Proserpine, gath\u2019ring flowers,\r\nHerself a fairer flow\u2019r, by gloomy Dis\r\nWas gather\u2019d.\u201d\r\n\u2014 Milton, Paradise Lost, iv. 268\r\n\r\n27. \u201cBehold, this have I found, saith the preacher, counting one\r\nby one, to find out the account:\r\nWhich yet my soul seeketh, but I find not: one man amongst a\r\nthousand have I found, but a woman among all those I have not\r\nfound.\r\nLo, this only have I found, that God hath made man upright.\u201d\r\nEcclesiastes vii. 27-29.\r\n\r\n28. Jesus, the son of Sirach, to whom is ascribed one of the\r\nbooks of the Apochrypha \u2014 that called the \u201cWisdom of Jesus\r\nthe Son of Sirach, or Ecclesiasticus;\u201d  in which, especially in the\r\nninth and twenty-fifth chapters, severe cautions are given\r\nagainst women.\r\n\r\n29. Roman gestes: histories; such as those of Lucretia, Porcia,\r\n&c.\r\n\r\n30. May means January to believe that she is pregnant, and that\r\nshe has a craving for unripe pears.\r\n\r\n31. At this point, and again some twenty lines below, several\r\nverses of a very coarse character had been inserted in later\r\nmanuscripts; but they are evidently spurious, and are omitted in\r\nthe best editions.\r\n\r\n32. \u201cStore\u201d is the general reading here, but its meaning is not\r\nobvious.  \u201cStowre\u201d is found in several manuscripts; it signifies\r\n\u201cstruggle\u201d or \u201cresist;\u201d and both for its own appropriateness, and\r\nfor the force which it gives the word \u201cstronge,\u201d the reading in\r\nthe text seems the better.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE SQUIRE\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\n\u201cHEY! Godde\u2019s mercy!\u201d said our Hoste tho,*                         *then\r\n\u201cNow such a wife I pray God keep me fro\u2019.\r\nLo, suche sleightes and subtilities\r\nIn women be; for aye as busy as bees\r\nAre they us silly men for to deceive,\r\nAnd from the soothe* will they ever weive,**     *truth **swerve, depart\r\nAs this Merchante\u2019s tale it proveth well.\r\nBut natheless, as true as any steel,\r\nI have a wife, though that she poore be;\r\nBut of her tongue a labbing* shrew is she;                   *chattering\r\nAnd yet* she hath a heap of vices mo\u2019.                         *moreover\r\nThereof *no force;* let all such thinges go.                 *no matter*\r\nBut wit* ye what? in counsel** be it said,    *know **secret, confidence\r\nMe rueth sore I am unto her tied;\r\nFor, an\u2019* I shoulde reckon every vice                                *if\r\nWhich that she hath, y-wis* I were too nice;**      *certainly **foolish\r\nAnd cause why, it should reported be\r\nAnd told her by some of this company\r\n(By whom, it needeth not for to declare,\r\nSince women connen utter such chaffare <1>),\r\nAnd eke my wit sufficeth not thereto\r\nTo tellen all; wherefore my tale is do.*                           *done\r\nSquier, come near, if it your wille be,\r\nAnd say somewhat of love, for certes ye\r\n*Conne thereon* as much as any man.\u201d                     *know about it*\r\n\u201cNay, Sir,\u201d quoth he; \u201cbut such thing as I can,\r\nWith hearty will, \u2014 for I will not rebel\r\nAgainst your lust,* \u2014 a tale will I tell.                     *pleasure\r\nHave me excused if I speak amiss;\r\nMy will is good; and lo, my tale is this.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Squire\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Women connen utter such chaffare: women are adepts at\r\ngiving circulation to such wares.  The Host evidently means that\r\nhis wife would be sure to hear of his confessions from some\r\nfemale member of the company.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.<1>\r\n\r\n*Pars Prima.*                                               *First part*\r\n\r\nAt Sarra, in the land of Tartary,\r\nThere dwelt a king that warrayed* Russie, <2>               *made war on\r\nThrough which there died many a doughty man;\r\nThis noble king was called Cambuscan,<3>\r\nWhich in his time was of so great renown,\r\nThat there was nowhere in no regioun\r\nSo excellent a lord in alle thing:\r\nHim lacked nought that longeth to a king,\r\nAs of the sect of which that he was born.\r\nHe kept his law to which he was y-sworn,\r\nAnd thereto* he was hardy, wise, and rich,            *moreover, besides\r\nAnd piteous and just, always y-lich;*              *alike, even-tempered\r\nTrue of his word, benign and honourable;\r\n*Of his corage as any centre stable;*        *firm, immovable of spirit*\r\nYoung, fresh, and strong, in armes desirous\r\nAs any bachelor of all his house.\r\nA fair person he was, and fortunate,\r\nAnd kept alway so well his royal estate,\r\nThat there was nowhere such another man.\r\nThis noble king, this Tartar Cambuscan,\r\nHadde two sons by Elfeta his wife,\r\nOf which the eldest highte Algarsife,\r\nThe other was y-called Camballo.\r\nA daughter had this worthy king also,\r\nThat youngest was, and highte Canace:\r\nBut for to telle you all her beauty,\r\nIt lies not in my tongue, nor my conning;*                        *skill\r\nI dare not undertake so high a thing:\r\nMine English eke is insufficient,\r\nIt muste be a rhetor* excellent,                                 *orator\r\n*That couth his colours longing for that art,*                * see <4>*\r\nIf he should her describen any part;\r\nI am none such, I must speak as I can.\r\n\r\nAnd so befell, that when this Cambuscan\r\nHad twenty winters borne his diadem,\r\nAs he was wont from year to year, I deem,\r\nHe let *the feast of his nativity*                  *his birthday party*\r\n*Do crye,* throughout Sarra his city,                    *be proclaimed*\r\nThe last Idus of March, after the year.\r\nPhoebus the sun full jolly was and clear,\r\nFor he was nigh his exaltation\r\nIn Marte\u2019s face, and in his mansion <5>\r\nIn Aries, the choleric hot sign:\r\nFull lusty* was the weather and benign;                        *pleasant\r\nFor which the fowls against the sunne sheen,*                    *bright\r\nWhat for the season and the younge green,\r\nFull loude sange their affections:\r\nThem seemed to have got protections\r\nAgainst the sword of winter keen and cold.\r\nThis Cambuscan, of which I have you told,\r\nIn royal vesture, sat upon his dais,\r\nWith diadem, full high in his palace;\r\nAnd held his feast so solemn and so rich,\r\nThat in this worlde was there none it lich.*                       *like\r\nOf which if I should tell all the array,\r\nThen would it occupy a summer\u2019s day;\r\nAnd eke it needeth not for to devise*                          *describe\r\nAt every course the order of service.\r\nI will not tellen of their strange sewes,*                   *dishes <6>\r\nNor of their swannes, nor their heronsews.*            *young herons <7>\r\nEke in that land, as telle knightes old,\r\nThere is some meat that is full dainty hold,\r\nThat in this land men *reck of* it full small:                *care for*\r\nThere is no man that may reporten all.\r\nI will not tarry you, for it is prime,\r\nAnd for it is no fruit, but loss of time;\r\nUnto my purpose* I will have recourse.                        *story <8>\r\nAnd so befell that, after the third course,\r\nWhile that this king sat thus in his nobley,*               *noble array\r\nHearing his ministreles their thinges play\r\nBefore him at his board deliciously,\r\nIn at the halle door all suddenly\r\nThere came a knight upon a steed of brass,\r\nAnd in his hand a broad mirror of glass;\r\nUpon his thumb he had of gold a ring,\r\nAnd by his side a naked sword hanging:\r\nAnd up he rode unto the highe board.\r\nIn all the hall was there not spoke a word,\r\nFor marvel of this knight; him to behold\r\nFull busily they waited,* young and old.                        *watched\r\n\r\nThis strange knight, that came thus suddenly,\r\nAll armed, save his head, full richely,\r\nSaluted king, and queen, and lordes all,\r\nBy order as they satten in the hall,\r\nWith so high reverence and observance,\r\nAs well in speech as in his countenance,\r\nThat Gawain <9> with his olde courtesy,\r\nThough he were come again out of Faerie,\r\nHim *coulde not amende with a word.*               *could not better him\r\nAnd after this, before the highe board,                     by one word*\r\nHe with a manly voice said his message,\r\nAfter the form used in his language,\r\nWithoute vice* of syllable or letter.                             *fault\r\nAnd, for his tale shoulde seem the better,\r\nAccordant to his worde\u2019s was his cheer,*                      *demeanour\r\nAs teacheth art of speech them that it lear.*                     *learn\r\nAlbeit that I cannot sound his style,\r\nNor cannot climb over so high a stile,\r\nYet say I this, as to *commune intent,*       *general sense or meaning*\r\n*Thus much amounteth* all that ever he meant,       *this is the sum of*\r\nIf it so be that I have it in mind.\r\nHe said; \u201cThe king of Araby and Ind,\r\nMy liege lord, on this solemne day\r\nSaluteth you as he best can and may,\r\nAnd sendeth you, in honour of your feast,\r\nBy me, that am all ready at your hest,*                         *command\r\nThis steed of brass, that easily and well\r\nCan in the space of one day naturel\r\n(This is to say, in four-and-twenty hours),\r\nWhereso you list, in drought or else in show\u2019rs,\r\nBeare your body into every place\r\nTo which your hearte willeth for to pace,*                     *pass, go\r\nWithoute wem* of you, through foul or fair.                *hurt, injury\r\nOr if you list to fly as high in air\r\nAs doth an eagle, when him list to soar,\r\nThis same steed shall bear you evermore\r\nWithoute harm, till ye be where *you lest*              *it pleases you*\r\n(Though that ye sleepen on his back, or rest),\r\nAnd turn again, with writhing* of a pin.                       *twisting\r\nHe that it wrought, he coude* many a gin;**     *knew **contrivance <10>\r\nHe waited* in any a constellation,                             *observed\r\nEre he had done this operation,\r\nAnd knew full many a seal <11> and many a bond\r\nThis mirror eke, that I have in mine hond,\r\nHath such a might, that men may in it see\r\nWhen there shall fall any adversity\r\nUnto your realm, or to yourself also,\r\nAnd openly who is your friend or foe.\r\nAnd over all this, if any lady bright\r\nHath set her heart on any manner wight,\r\nIf he be false, she shall his treason see,\r\nHis newe love, and all his subtlety,\r\nSo openly that there shall nothing hide.\r\nWherefore, against this lusty summer-tide,\r\nThis mirror, and this ring that ye may see,\r\nHe hath sent to my lady Canace,\r\nYour excellente daughter that is here.\r\nThe virtue of this ring, if ye will hear,\r\nIs this, that if her list it for to wear\r\nUpon her thumb, or in her purse it bear,\r\nThere is no fowl that flyeth under heaven,\r\nThat she shall not well understand his steven,*           *speech, sound\r\nAnd know his meaning openly and plain,\r\nAnd answer him in his language again:\r\nAnd every grass that groweth upon root\r\nShe shall eke know, to whom it will do boot,*                    *remedy\r\nAll be his woundes ne\u2019er so deep and wide.\r\nThis naked sword, that hangeth by my side,\r\nSuch virtue hath, that what man that it smite,\r\nThroughout his armour it will carve and bite,\r\nWere it as thick as is a branched oak:\r\nAnd what man is y-wounded with the stroke\r\nShall ne\u2019er be whole, till that you list, of grace,\r\nTo stroke him with the flat in thilke* place                   *the same\r\nWhere he is hurt; this is as much to sayn,\r\nYe muste with the flatte sword again\r\nStroke him upon the wound, and it will close.\r\nThis is the very sooth, withoute glose;*                         *deceit\r\nIt faileth not, while it is in your hold.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd when this knight had thus his tale told,\r\nHe rode out of the hall, and down he light.\r\nHis steede, which that shone as sunne bright,\r\nStood in the court as still as any stone.\r\nThe knight is to his chamber led anon,\r\nAnd is unarmed, and to meat y-set.*                              *seated\r\nThese presents be full richely y-fet,* \u2014                       *fetched\r\nThis is to say, the sword and the mirrour, \u2014\r\nAnd borne anon into the highe tow\u2019r,\r\nWith certain officers ordain\u2019d therefor;\r\nAnd unto Canace the ring is bore\r\nSolemnely, where she sat at the table;\r\nBut sickerly, withouten any fable,\r\nThe horse of brass, that may not be remued.*               *removed <12>\r\nIt stood as it were to the ground y-glued;\r\nThere may no man out of the place it drive\r\nFor no engine of windlass or polive; *                           *pulley\r\nAnd cause why, for they *can not the craft;*       *know not the cunning\r\nAnd therefore in the place they have it laft,          of the mechanism*\r\nTill that the knight hath taught them the mannere\r\nTo voide* him, as ye shall after hear.                           *remove\r\n\r\nGreat was the press, that swarmed to and fro\r\nTo gauren* on this horse that stoode so:                           *gaze\r\nFor it so high was, and so broad and long,\r\nSo well proportioned for to be strong,\r\nRight as it were a steed of Lombardy;\r\nTherewith so horsely, and so quick of eye,\r\nAs it a gentle Poileis <13> courser were:\r\nFor certes, from his tail unto his ear\r\nNature nor art ne could him not amend\r\nIn no degree, as all the people wend.*                  *weened, thought\r\nBut evermore their moste wonder was\r\nHow that it coulde go, and was of brass;\r\nIt was of Faerie, as the people seem\u2019d.\r\nDiverse folk diversely they deem\u2019d;\r\nAs many heads, as many wittes been.\r\nThey murmured, as doth a swarm of been,*                           *bees\r\nAnd made skills* after their fantasies,                         *reasons\r\nRehearsing of the olde poetries,\r\nAnd said that it was like the Pegasee,*                         *Pegasus\r\nThe horse that hadde winges for to flee;*                           *fly\r\nOr else it was the Greeke\u2019s horse Sinon,<14>\r\nThat broughte Troye to destruction,\r\nAs men may in the olde gestes* read.                *tales of adventures\r\nMine heart,\u201d quoth one, \u201cis evermore in dread;\r\nI trow some men of armes be therein,\r\nThat shape* them this city for to win:                  *design, prepare\r\nIt were right good that all such thing were know.\u201d\r\nAnother rowned* to his fellow low,                            *whispered\r\nAnd said, \u201cHe lies; for it is rather like\r\nAn apparence made by some magic,\r\nAs jugglers playen at these feastes great.\u201d\r\nOf sundry doubts they jangle thus and treat.\r\nAs lewed* people deeme commonly                                *ignorant\r\nOf thinges that be made more subtilly\r\nThan they can in their lewdness comprehend;\r\nThey *deeme gladly to the badder end.*               *are ready to think\r\nAnd some of them wonder\u2019d on the mirrour,                     the worst*\r\nThat borne was up into the master* tow\u2019r,                    *chief <15>\r\nHow men might in it suche thinges see.\r\nAnother answer\u2019d and said, it might well be\r\nNaturally by compositions\r\nOf angles, and of sly reflections;\r\nAnd saide that in Rome was such a one.\r\nThey speak of Alhazen and Vitellon,<16>\r\nAnd Aristotle, that wrote in their lives\r\nOf quainte* mirrors, and of prospectives,                       *curious\r\nAs knowe they that have their bookes heard.\r\nAnd other folk have wonder\u2019d on the swerd,*                       *sword\r\nThat woulde pierce throughout every thing;\r\nAnd fell in speech of Telephus the king,\r\nAnd of Achilles for his quainte spear, <17>\r\nFor he could with it bothe heal and dere,*                        *wound\r\nRight in such wise as men may with the swerd\r\nOf which right now ye have yourselves heard.\r\nThey spake of sundry hard\u2019ning of metal,\r\nAnd spake of medicines therewithal,\r\nAnd how, and when, it shoulde harden\u2019d be,\r\nWhich is unknowen algate* unto me.                              *however\r\nThen spake they of Canacee\u2019s ring,\r\nAnd saiden all, that such a wondrous thing\r\nOf craft of rings heard they never none,\r\nSave that he, Moses, and King Solomon,\r\nHadden *a name of conning* in such art.                *a reputation for\r\nThus said the people, and drew them apart.                    knowledge*\r\nPut natheless some saide that it was\r\nWonder to maken of fern ashes glass,\r\nAnd yet is glass nought like ashes of fern;\r\n*But for* they have y-knowen it so ferne**        *because **before <18>\r\nTherefore ceaseth their jangling and their wonder.\r\nAs sore wonder some on cause of thunder,\r\nOn ebb and flood, on gossamer and mist,\r\nAnd on all things, till that the cause is wist.*                  *known\r\nThus jangle they, and deemen and devise,\r\nTill that the king gan from his board arise.\r\n\r\nPhoebus had left the angle meridional,\r\nAnd yet ascending was the beast royal,\r\nThe gentle Lion, with his Aldrian, <19>\r\nWhen that this Tartar king, this Cambuscan,\r\nRose from the board, there as he sat full high\r\nBefore him went the loude minstrelsy,\r\nTill he came to his chamber of parements,<20>\r\nThere as they sounded diverse instruments,\r\nThat it was like a heaven for to hear.\r\nNow danced lusty Venus\u2019 children dear:\r\nFor in the Fish* their lady sat full                             *Pisces\r\nAnd looked on them with a friendly eye. <21>\r\nThis noble king is set upon his throne;\r\nThis strange knight is fetched to him full sone,*                  *soon\r\nAnd on the dance he goes with Canace.\r\nHere is the revel and the jollity,\r\nThat is not able a dull man to devise:*                        *describe\r\nHe must have knowen love and his service,\r\nAnd been a feastly* man, as fresh as May,                    *merry, gay\r\nThat shoulde you devise such array.\r\nWho coulde telle you the form of dances\r\nSo uncouth,* and so freshe countenances**          *unfamliar **gestures\r\nSuch subtle lookings and dissimulances,\r\nFor dread of jealous men\u2019s apperceivings?\r\nNo man but Launcelot,<22> and he is dead.\r\nTherefore I pass o\u2019er all this lustihead*                  *pleasantness\r\nI say no more, but in this jolliness\r\nI leave them, till to supper men them dress.\r\nThe steward bids the spices for to hie*                           *haste\r\nAnd eke the wine, in all this melody;\r\nThe ushers and the squiers be y-gone,\r\nThe spices and the wine is come anon;\r\nThey eat and drink, and when this hath an end,\r\nUnto the temple, as reason was, they wend;\r\nThe service done, they suppen all by day\r\nWhat needeth you rehearse their array?\r\nEach man wot well, that at a kinge\u2019s feast\r\nIs plenty, to the most*, and to the least,                      *highest\r\nAnd dainties more than be in my knowing.\r\n\r\nAt after supper went this noble king\r\nTo see the horse of brass, with all a rout\r\nOf lordes and of ladies him about.\r\nSuch wond\u2019ring was there on this horse of brass,\r\nThat, since the great siege of Troye was,\r\nThere as men wonder\u2019d on a horse also,\r\nNe\u2019er was there such a wond\u2019ring as was tho.*                     *there\r\nBut finally the king asked the knight\r\nThe virtue of this courser, and the might,\r\nAnd prayed him to tell his governance.*            *mode of managing him\r\nThe horse anon began to trip and dance,\r\nWhen that the knight laid hand upon his rein,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cSir, there is no more to sayn,\r\nBut when you list to riden anywhere,\r\nYe muste trill* a pin, stands in his ear,                     *turn <23>\r\nWhich I shall telle you betwixt us two;\r\nYe muste name him to what place also,\r\nOr to what country that you list to ride.\r\nAnd when ye come where you list abide,\r\nBid him descend, and trill another pin\r\n(For therein lies th\u2019 effect of all the gin*),         *contrivance <10>\r\nAnd he will down descend and do your will,\r\nAnd in that place he will abide still;\r\nThough all the world had the contrary swore,\r\nHe shall not thence be throwen nor be bore.\r\nOr, if you list to bid him thennes gon,\r\nTrill this pin, and he will vanish anon\r\nOut of the sight of every manner wight,\r\nAnd come again, be it by day or night,\r\nWhen that you list to clepe* him again                             *call\r\nIn such a guise, as I shall to you sayn\r\nBetwixte you and me, and that full soon.\r\nRide <24> when you list, there is no more to do\u2019n.\u2019\r\nInformed when the king was of the knight,\r\nAnd had conceived in his wit aright\r\nThe manner and the form of all this thing,\r\nFull glad and blithe, this noble doughty king\r\nRepaired to his revel as beforn.\r\nThe bridle is into the tower borne,\r\nAnd kept among his jewels lefe* and dear;                     *cherished\r\nThe horse vanish\u2019d, I n\u2019ot* in what mannere,                   *know not\r\nOut of their sight; ye get no more of me:\r\nBut thus I leave in lust and jollity\r\nThis Cambuscan his lordes feastying,*                 *entertaining <25>\r\nUntil well nigh the day began to spring.\r\n\r\n*Pars Secunda.*                                            *Second Part*\r\n\r\nThe norice* of digestion, the sleep,                              *nurse\r\nGan on them wink, and bade them take keep,*                        *heed\r\nThat muche mirth and labour will have rest.\r\nAnd with a gaping* mouth he all them kest,**           *yawning **kissed\r\nAnd said, that it was time to lie down,\r\nFor blood was in his dominatioun: <26>\r\n\u201cCherish the blood, nature\u2019s friend,\u201d quoth he.\r\nThey thanked him gaping, by two and three;\r\nAnd every wight gan draw him to his rest;\r\nAs sleep them bade, they took it for the best.\r\nTheir dreames shall not now be told for me;\r\nFull are their heades of fumosity,<27>\r\nThat caused dreams *of which there is no charge:*   *of no significance*\r\nThey slepte; till that, it was *prime large,*             *late morning*\r\nThe moste part, but* it was Canace;                              *except\r\nShe was full measurable,* as women be:                         *moderate\r\nFor of her father had she ta\u2019en her leave\r\nTo go to rest, soon after it was eve;\r\nHer liste not appalled* for to be;                         *to look pale\r\nNor on the morrow *unfeastly for to see;*       *to look sad, depressed*\r\nAnd slept her firste sleep; and then awoke.\r\nFor such a joy she in her hearte took\r\nBoth of her quainte a ring and her mirrour,.\r\nThat twenty times she changed her colour;\r\nAnd in her sleep, right for th\u2019 impression\r\nOf her mirror, she had a vision.\r\nWherefore, ere that the sunne gan up glide,\r\nShe call\u2019d upon her mistress\u2019* her beside,                  *governesses\r\nAnd saide, that her liste for to rise.\r\n\r\nThese olde women, that be gladly wise\r\nAs are her mistresses answer\u2019d anon,\r\nAnd said; \u201cMadame, whither will ye gon\r\nThus early? for the folk be all in rest.\u201d\r\n\u201cI will,\u201d quoth she, \u201carise; for me lest\r\nNo longer for to sleep, and walk about.\u201d\r\nHer mistresses call\u2019d women a great rout,\r\nAnd up they rose, well a ten or twelve;\r\nUp rose freshe Canace herselve,\r\nAs ruddy and bright as is the yonnge sun\r\nThat in the Ram is four degrees y-run;\r\nNo higher was he, when she ready was;\r\nAnd forth she walked easily a pace,\r\nArray\u2019d after the lusty* season swoot,**               *pleasant **sweet\r\nLightely for to play, and walk on foot,\r\nNought but with five or six of her meinie;\r\nAnd in a trench* forth in the park went she.                *sunken path\r\nThe vapour, which up from the earthe glode,*                     *glided\r\nMade the sun to seem ruddy and broad:\r\nBut, natheless, it was so fair a sight\r\nThat it made all their heartes for to light,*        *be lightened, glad\r\nWhat for the season and the morrowning,\r\nAnd for the fowles that she hearde sing.\r\nFor right anon she wiste* what they meant                          *knew\r\nRight by their song, and knew all their intent.\r\nThe knotte,* why that every tale is told,         *nucleus, chief matter\r\nIf it be tarried* till the list* be cold         *delayed  **inclination\r\nOf them that have it hearken\u2019d *after yore,*           *for a long time*\r\nThe savour passeth ever longer more;\r\nFor fulsomness of the prolixity:\r\nAnd by that same reason thinketh me.\r\nI shoulde unto the knotte condescend,\r\nAnd maken of her walking soon an end.\r\n\r\nAmid a tree fordry*, as white as chalk,             *thoroughly dried up\r\nThere sat a falcon o\u2019er her head full high,\r\nThat with a piteous voice so gan to cry;\r\nThat all the wood resounded of her cry,\r\nAnd beat she had herself so piteously\r\nWith both her winges, till the redde blood\r\nRan endelong* the tree, there as she stood           *from top to bottom\r\nAnd ever-in-one* alway she cried and shright;**  *incessantly **shrieked\r\nAnd with her beak herselfe she so pight,*                       *wounded\r\nThat there is no tiger, nor cruel beast,\r\nThat dwelleth either in wood or in forest;\r\nBut would have wept, if that he weepe could,\r\nFor sorrow of her; she shriek\u2019d alway so loud.\r\nFor there was never yet no man alive,\r\nIf that he could a falcon well descrive;*                      *describe\r\nThat heard of such another of fairness\r\nAs well of plumage, as of gentleness;\r\nOf shape, of all that mighte reckon\u2019d be.\r\nA falcon peregrine seemed she,\r\nOf fremde* land; and ever as she stood                     *foreign <28>\r\nShe swooned now and now for lack of blood;\r\nTill well-nigh is she fallen from the tree.\r\n\r\nThis faire kinge\u2019s daughter Canace,\r\nThat on her finger bare the quainte ring,\r\nThrough which she understood well every  thing\r\nThat any fowl may in his leden* sayn,                    **language <29>\r\nAnd could him answer in his leden again;\r\nHath understoode what this falcon said,\r\nAnd well-nigh for the ruth* almost she died;.                      *pity\r\nAnd to the tree she went, full hastily,\r\nAnd on this falcon looked piteously;\r\nAnd held her lap abroad; for well she wist\r\nThe falcon muste falle from the twist*                      *twig, bough\r\nWhen that she swooned next, for lack of blood.\r\nA longe while to waite her she stood;\r\nTill at the last she apake in this mannere\r\nUnto the hawk, as ye shall after hear:\r\n\u201cWhat is the cause, if it be for to tell,\r\nThat ye be in this furial* pain of hell?\u201d               *raging, furious\r\nQuoth Canace unto this hawk above;\r\n\u201cIs this for sorrow of of death; or loss of love?\r\nFor; as I trow,* these be the causes two;                       *believe\r\nThat cause most a gentle hearte woe:\r\nOf other harm it needeth not to speak.\r\nFor ye yourself upon yourself awreak;*                          *inflict\r\nWhich proveth well, that either ire or dread*                      *fear\r\nMust be occasion of your cruel deed,\r\nSince that I see none other wight you chase:\r\nFor love of God, as *do yourselfe grace;*                 *have mercy on\r\nOr what may be your help? for, west nor east,                  yourself*\r\nI never saw ere now no bird nor beast\r\nThat fared with himself so piteously\r\nYe slay me with your sorrow verily;\r\nI have of you so great compassioun.\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love come from the tree adown\r\nAnd, as I am a kinge\u2019s daughter true,\r\nIf that I verily the causes knew\r\nOf your disease,* if it lay in my might,                       *distress\r\nI would amend it, ere that it were night,\r\nSo wisly help me the great God of kind.**               *surely **nature\r\nAnd herbes shall I right enoughe find,\r\nTo heale with your hurtes hastily.\u201d\r\nThen shriek\u2019d this falcon yet more piteously\r\nThan ever she did, and fell to ground anon,\r\nAnd lay aswoon, as dead as lies a stone,\r\nTill Canace had in her lap her take,\r\nUnto that time she gan of swoon awake:\r\nAnd, after that she out of swoon abraid,*                         *awoke\r\nRight in her hawke\u2019s leden thus she said:\r\n\r\n\u201cThat pity runneth soon in gentle heart\r\n(Feeling his simil\u2019tude in paines smart),\r\nIs proved every day, as men may see,\r\nAs well *by work as by authority;*        *by experience as by doctrine*\r\nFor gentle hearte kitheth* gentleness.                          *sheweth\r\nI see well, that ye have on my distress\r\nCompassion, my faire Canace,\r\nOf very womanly benignity\r\nThat nature in your princples hath set.\r\nBut for no hope for to fare the bet,*                            *better\r\nBut for t\u2019 obey unto your hearte free,\r\nAnd for to make others aware by me,\r\nAs by the whelp chastis\u2019d* is the lion,           *instructed, corrected\r\nRight for that cause and that conclusion,\r\nWhile that I have a leisure and a space,\r\nMine harm I will confessen ere I pace.\u201d*                         *depart\r\nAnd ever while the one her sorrow told,\r\nThe other wept, *as she to water wo\u2019ld,*       *as if she would dissolve\r\nTill that the falcon bade her to be still,                   into water*\r\nAnd with a sigh right thus she said *her till:*                 *to her*\r\n\u201cWhere I was bred (alas that ilke* day!)                           *same\r\nAnd foster\u2019d in a rock of marble gray\r\nSo tenderly, that nothing ailed me,\r\nI wiste* not what was adversity,                                   *knew\r\nTill I could flee* full high under the sky.                         *fly\r\nThen dwell\u2019d a tercelet <30> me faste by,\r\nThat seem\u2019d a well of alle gentleness;\r\n*All were he* full of treason and falseness,           *although he was*\r\nIt was so wrapped *under humble cheer,*                 *under an aspect\r\nAnd under hue of truth, in such mannere,                    of humility*\r\nUnder pleasance, and under busy pain,\r\nThat no wight weened that he coulde feign,\r\nSo deep in grain he dyed his colours.\r\nRight as a serpent hides him under flow\u2019rs,\r\nTill he may see his time for to bite,\r\nRight so this god of love\u2019s hypocrite\r\nDid so his ceremonies and obeisances,\r\nAnd kept in semblance all his observances,\r\nThat *sounden unto* gentleness of love.               *are consonant to*\r\nAs on a tomb is all the fair above,\r\nAnd under is the corpse, which that ye wet,\r\nSuch was this hypocrite, both cold and hot;\r\nAnd in this wise he served his intent,\r\nThat, save the fiend, none wiste what he meant:\r\nTill he so long had weeped and complain\u2019d,\r\nAnd many a year his service to me feign\u2019d,\r\nTill that mine heart, too piteous and too nice,*        *foolish, simple\r\nAll innocent of his crowned malice,\r\n*Forfeared of his death,* as thoughte me,           *greatly afraid lest\r\nUpon his oathes and his surety                            he should die*\r\nGranted him love, on this conditioun,\r\nThat evermore mine honour and renown\r\nWere saved, bothe *privy and apert;*           *privately and in public*\r\nThis is to say, that, after his desert,\r\nI gave him all my heart and all my thought\r\n(God wot, and he, that *other wayes nought*),          *in no other way*\r\nAnd took his heart in change of mine for aye.\r\nBut sooth is said, gone since many a day,\r\nA true wight and a thiefe *think not one.*          *do not think alike*\r\nAnd when he saw the thing so far y-gone,\r\nThat I had granted him fully my love,\r\nIn such a wise as I have said above,\r\nAnd given him my true heart as free\r\nAs he swore that he gave his heart to me,\r\nAnon this tiger, full of doubleness,\r\nFell on his knees with so great humbleness,\r\nWith so high reverence, as by his cheer,*                          *mien\r\nSo like a gentle lover in mannere,\r\nSo ravish\u2019d, as it seemed, for the joy,\r\nThat never Jason, nor Paris of Troy, \u2014\r\nJason? certes, nor ever other man,\r\nSince Lamech <31> was, that alderfirst* began              *first of all\r\nTo love two, as write folk beforn,\r\nNor ever since the firste man was born,\r\nCoulde no man, by twenty thousand\r\nCounterfeit the sophimes* of his art;         *sophistries, beguilements\r\nWhere doubleness of feigning should approach,\r\nNor worthy were t\u2019unbuckle his galoche,*                      *shoe <32>\r\nNor could so thank a wight, as he did me.\r\nHis manner was a heaven for to see\r\nTo any woman, were she ne\u2019er so wise;\r\nSo painted he and kempt,* *at point devise,*            *combed, studied\r\nAs well his wordes as his countenance.          *with perfect precision*\r\nAnd I so lov\u2019d him for his obeisance,\r\nAnd for the truth I deemed in his heart,\r\nThat, if so were that any thing him smart,*                      *pained\r\nAll were it ne\u2019er so lite,* and I it wist,                       *little\r\nMethought I felt death at my hearte twist.\r\nAnd shortly, so farforth this thing is went,*                      *gone\r\nThat my will was his wille\u2019s instrument;\r\nThat is to say, my will obey\u2019d his will\r\nIn alle thing, as far as reason fill,*                    *fell; allowed\r\nKeeping the boundes of my worship ever;\r\nAnd never had I thing *so lefe, or lever,*          *so dear, or dearer*\r\nAs him, God wot, nor never shall no mo\u2019.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis lasted longer than a year or two,\r\nThat I supposed of him naught but good.\r\nBut finally, thus at the last it stood,\r\nThat fortune woulde that he muste twin*                *depart, separate\r\nOut of that place which that I was in.\r\nWhe\u2019er* me was woe, it is no question;                          *whether\r\nI cannot make of it description.\r\nFor one thing dare I telle boldely,\r\nI know what is the pain of death thereby;\r\nSuch harm I felt, for he might not byleve.*                   *stay <33>\r\nSo on a day of me he took his leave,\r\nSo sorrowful eke, that I ween\u2019d verily,\r\nThat he had felt as muche harm as I,\r\nWhen that I heard him speak, and saw his hue.\r\nBut natheless, I thought he was so true,\r\nAnd eke that he repaire should again\r\nWithin a little while, sooth to sayn,\r\nAnd reason would eke that he muste go\r\nFor his honour, as often happ\u2019neth so,\r\nThat I made virtue of necessity,\r\nAnd took it well, since that it muste be.\r\nAs I best might, I hid from him my sorrow,\r\nAnd took him by the hand, Saint John to borrow,*        *witness, pledge\r\nAnd said him thus; \u2018Lo, I am youres all;\r\nBe such as I have been to you, and shall.\u2019\r\nWhat he answer\u2019d, it needs not to rehearse;\r\nWho can say bet* than he, who can do worse?                      *better\r\nWhen he had all well said, then had he done.\r\nTherefore behoveth him a full long spoon,\r\nThat shall eat with a fiend; thus heard I say.\r\nSo at the last he muste forth his way,\r\nAnd forth he flew, till he came where him lest.\r\nWhen it came him to purpose for to rest,\r\nI trow that he had thilke text in mind,\r\nThat alle thing repairing to his kind\r\nGladdeth himself; <34> thus say men, as I guess;\r\n*Men love of [proper] kind newfangleness,*               *see note <35>*\r\nAs birdes do, that men in cages feed.\r\nFor though thou night and day take of them heed,\r\nAnd strew their cage fair and soft as silk,\r\nAnd give them sugar, honey, bread, and milk,\r\nYet, *right anon as that his door is up,*            *immediately on his\r\nHe with his feet will spurne down his cup,            door being opened*\r\nAnd to the wood he will, and wormes eat;\r\nSo newefangle be they of their meat,\r\nAnd love novelties, of proper kind;\r\nNo gentleness of bloode may them bind.\r\nSo far\u2019d this tercelet, alas the day!\r\nThough he were gentle born, and fresh, and gay,\r\nAnd goodly for to see, and humble, and free,\r\nHe saw upon a time a kite flee,*                                    *fly\r\nAnd suddenly he loved this kite so,\r\nThat all his love is clean from me y-go:\r\nAnd hath his trothe falsed in this wise.\r\nThus hath the kite my love in her service,\r\nAnd I am lorn* withoute remedy.\u201d                           *lost, undone\r\n\r\nAnd with that word this falcon gan to cry,\r\nAnd swooned eft* in Canacee\u2019s barme**                       *again **lap\r\nGreat was the sorrow, for that hawke\u2019s harm,\r\nThat Canace and all her women made;\r\nThey wist not how they might the falcon glade.*                 *gladden\r\nBut Canace home bare her in her lap,\r\nAnd softely in plasters gan her wrap,\r\nThere as she with her beak had hurt herselve.\r\nNow cannot Canace but herbes delve\r\nOut of the ground, and make salves new\r\nOf herbes precious and fine of hue,\r\nTo heale with this hawk; from day to night\r\nShe did her business, and all her might.\r\nAnd by her bedde\u2019s head she made a mew,*                      *bird cage\r\nAnd cover\u2019d it with velouettes* blue,<36>                       *velvets\r\nIn sign of truth that is in woman seen;\r\nAnd all without the mew is painted green,\r\nIn which were painted all these false fowls,\r\nAs be these tidifes,* tercelets, and owls;                      *titmice\r\nAnd pies, on them for to cry and chide,\r\nRight for despite were painted them beside.\r\n\r\nThus leave I Canace her hawk keeping.\r\nI will no more as now speak of her ring,\r\nTill it come eft* to purpose for to sayn                          *again\r\nHow that this falcon got her love again\r\nRepentant, as the story telleth us,\r\nBy mediation of Camballus,\r\nThe kinge\u2019s son of which that I you told.\r\nBut henceforth I will my process hold\r\nTo speak of aventures, and of battailes,\r\nThat yet was never heard so great marvailles.\r\nFirst I will telle you of Cambuscan,\r\nThat in his time many a city wan;\r\nAnd after will I speak of Algarsife,\r\nHow he won Theodora to his wife,\r\nFor whom full oft in great peril he was,\r\n*N\u2019had he* been holpen by the horse of brass.               *had he not*\r\nAnd after will I speak of Camballo, <37>\r\nThat fought in listes with the brethren two\r\nFor Canace, ere that he might her win;\r\nAnd where I left I will again begin.\r\n        .        .        .        .     <38>\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Squire\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Squire\u2019s Tale has not been found under any other form\r\namong the literary remains of the Middle Ages; and it is\r\nunknown from what original it was derived, if from any. The\r\nTale is unfinished, not because the conclusion has been lost, but\r\nbecause the author left it so.\r\n\r\n2. The Russians and Tartars waged constant hostilities between\r\nthe thirteenth and sixteenth centuries.\r\n\r\n3. In the best manuscripts the name is \u201cCambynskan,\u201d and thus,\r\nno doubt, it should strictly be read. But it is a most pardonable\r\noffence against literal accuracy to use the word which Milton\r\nhas made classical, in \u201cIl Penseroso,\u201d speaking of\r\n\r\n           \u201chim that left half-told\r\nThe story of Cambuscan bold,\r\nOf Camball, and of Algarsife,\r\nAnd who had Canace to wife,\r\nThat owned the virtuous Ring and Glass,\r\nAnd of the wondrous Horse of Brass,\r\nOn which the Tartar King did ride\u201d\r\n\r\nSurely the admiration of Milton might well seem to the spirit of\r\nChaucer to condone a much greater transgression on his domain\r\nthan this verbal change \u2014 which to both eye and ear is an\r\nunquestionable improvement on the uncouth original.\r\n\r\n4. Couth his colours longing for that art: well skilled in using\r\nthe colours \u2014 the word-painting \u2014 belonging to his art.\r\n\r\n5. Aries was the mansion of Mars \u2014 to whom \u201chis\u201d applies.\r\nLeo was the mansion of the Sun.\r\n\r\n6. Sewes:  Dishes, or soups. The precise force of the word is\r\nuncertain; but it may be connected with \u201cseethe,\u201d to boil, and it\r\nseems to describe a dish in which the flesh was served up amid a\r\nkind of broth or gravy. The \u201csewer,\u201d taster or assayer of the\r\nviands served at great tables, probably derived his name from\r\nthe verb to \u201csay\u201d or \u201cassay;\u201d though Tyrwhitt would connect\r\nthe two words, by taking both from the French, \u201casseoir,\u201d to\r\nplace \u2014 making the arrangement of the table the leading duty of\r\nthe \u201csewer,\u201d rather than the testing of the food.\r\n\r\n7. Heronsews: young herons; French, \u201cheronneaux.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Purpose: story, discourse; French, \u201cpropos.\u201d\r\n\r\n9. Gawain was celebrated in mediaeval romance as the most\r\ncourteous among King Arthur\u2019s knights.\r\n\r\n10. Gin: contrivance; trick; snare. Compare Italian, \u201cinganno,\u201d\r\ndeception; and our own \u201cengine.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Mr Wright remarks that \u201cthe making and arrangement of\r\nseals was one of the important operations of mediaeval magic.\u201d\r\n\r\n12. Remued: removed; French, \u201cremuer,\u201d to stir.\r\n\r\n13. Polies:  Apulian. The horses of Apulia \u2014 in old French\r\n\u201cPoille,\u201d in Italian \u201cPuglia\u201d \u2014 were held in high value.\r\n\r\n14. The Greeke\u2019s horse Sinon: the wooden horse of the Greek\r\nSinon, introduced  into Troy by the stratagem of its maker.\r\n\r\n15. Master tower: chief tower; as, in the Knight\u2019s Tale, the\r\nprincipal street is called the \u201cmaster street.\u201d  See note 86 to the\r\nKnight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n16. Alhazen and Vitellon: two writers on optics \u2014 the first\r\nsupposed to have lived about 1100, the other about 1270.\r\nTyrwhitt says that their works were printed at Basle in 1572,\r\nunder the title \u201cAlhazeni et Vitellonis Opticae.\u201d\r\n\r\n17. Telephus, a son of Hercules, reigned over Mysia when the\r\nGreeks came to besiege Troy, and he sought to prevent their\r\nlanding.  But, by the art of Dionysus, he was made to stumble\r\nover a vine, and Achilles wounded him with his spear.  The\r\noracle informed Telephus that the hurt could be healed only by\r\nhim, or by the weapon, that inflicted it; and the king, seeking\r\nthe Grecian camp, was healed by Achilles with the rust of the\r\ncharmed spear.\r\n\r\n18. Ferne: before; a corruption of \u201cforne,\u201d from Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cforan.\u201d\r\n\r\n19. Aldrian: or Aldebaran; a star in the neck of the constellation\r\nLeo.\r\n\r\n20. Chamber of parements:  Presence-chamber, or chamber of\r\nstate, full of  splendid furniture and ornaments. The same\r\nexpression is used in French and Italian.\r\n\r\n21. In Pisces, Venus was said to be at her exaltation or greatest\r\npower. A planet, according to the old astrologers, was in\r\n\u201cexaltation\u201d when in the sign of the Zodiac in which it exerted\r\nits strongest influence; the opposite sign, in which it was\r\nweakest, was called its \u201cdejection.\u201d\r\n\r\n22. Launcelot:  Arthur\u2019s famous knight, so accomplished and\r\ncourtly, that he was held the very pink of chivalry.\r\n\r\n23. Trill: turn;  akin to \u201cthirl\u201d, \u201cdrill.\u201d\r\n\r\n24. Ride: another reading is \u201cbide,\u201d alight or remain.\r\n\r\n25. Feastying: entertaining; French, \u201cfestoyer,\u201d  to feast.\r\n\r\n26. The old physicians held that blood dominated in  the human\r\nbody late at night and in the early morning.  Galen says that the\r\ndomination lasts for seven hours.\r\n\r\n27. Fumosity: fumes of wine rising from the stomach to the\r\nhead.\r\n\r\n28. Fremde: foreign, strange; German, \u201cfremd\u201d in the northern\r\ndialects, \u201cfrem,\u201d or \u201cfremmed,\u201d is used in the same sense.\r\n\r\n29. Leden: Language, dialect; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cleden\u201d or\r\n\u201claeden,\u201d a corruption from \u201cLatin.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. Tercelet: the \u201ctassel,\u201d or male of any species of hawk; so\r\ncalled, according to Cotgrave, because he is one third (\u201ctiers\u201d)\r\nsmaller than the female.\r\n\r\n31. \u201cAnd Lamech took unto him two wives: the name of the\r\none Adah, and the name of the other Zillah\u201d (Gen. iv. 19).\r\n\r\n32. Galoche:  shoe; it seems to have been used in France, of a\r\n\u201csabot,\u201d or wooden shoe.  The reader cannot fail to recall the\r\nsame illustration in John i. 27, where the Baptist says of Christ:\r\n\u201cHe it is, who coming after me is preferred before me; whose\r\nshoe\u2019s latchet I am not worthy to unloose.\u201d\r\n\r\n33. Byleve; stay; another form is \u201cbleve;\u201d from Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cbelitan,\u201d to remain.  Compare German, \u201cbleiben.\u201d\r\n\r\n34. This sentiment, as well as the illustration of the bird which\r\nfollows, is taken from the third book of Boethius, \u201cDe\r\nConsolatione Philosophiae,\u201d metrum 2. It has thus been\r\nrendered in Chaucer\u2019s translation: \u201cAll things seek aye to their\r\nproper course, and all things rejoice on their returning again to\r\ntheir nature.\u201d\r\n\r\n35. Men love of proper kind newfangleness: Men, by their own\r\n\u2014 their very \u2014 nature, are fond of novelty, and prone to\r\ninconstancy.\r\n\r\n36. Blue was the colour of truth, as green was that of\r\ninconstancy.  In John Stowe\u2019s additions to Chaucer\u2019s works,\r\nprinted in 1561, there is \u201cA balade whiche Chaucer made\r\nagainst women inconstaunt,\u201d of which the refrain is, \u201cIn stead of\r\nblue, thus may ye wear all green.\u201d\r\n\r\n37. Unless we suppose this to be a namesake of the Camballo\r\nwho was Canace\u2019s brother \u2014 which is not at all probable \u2014 we\r\nmust agree with Tyrwhitt that there is a mistake here; which no\r\ndoubt Chaucer would have rectified, if the tale had not been\r\n\u201cleft half-told,\u201d One manuscript reads \u201cCaballo;\u201d and though not\r\nmuch authority need be given to a difference that may be due to\r\nmere omission of the mark of contraction over the \u201ca,\u201d there is\r\nenough in the text to show that another person than the king\u2019s\r\nyounger son is intended.  The Squire promises to tell the\r\nadventures that befell each member of Cambuscan\u2019s family; and\r\nin thorough consistency with this plan, and with the canons of\r\nchivalric story, would be \u201cthe marriage of Canace to some\r\nknight who was first obliged to fight for her with her two\r\nbrethren; a method of courtship,\u201d adds Tyrwhitt, \u201cvery\r\nconsonant to the spirit of ancient chivalry.\u201d\r\n\r\n38. (Trancriber\u2019s note) In some manuscripts the following two\r\nlines, being the beginning of the third part, are found: -\r\n\r\nApollo whirleth up his chair so high,\r\nTill that Mercurius\u2019 house, the sly\u2026\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE FRANKLIN\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE. <1>\r\n\r\n\u201cIN faith, Squier, thou hast thee well acquit,\r\nAnd gentilly; I praise well thy wit,\u201d\r\nQuoth the Franklin; \u201cconsidering thy youthe\r\nSo feelingly thou speak\u2019st, Sir, I aloue* thee,          *allow, approve\r\n*As to my doom,* there is none that is here       *so far as my judgment\r\nOf eloquence that shall be thy peer,                               goes*\r\nIf that thou live; God give thee goode chance,\r\nAnd in virtue send thee continuance,\r\nFor of thy speaking I have great dainty.*                 *value, esteem\r\nI have a son, and, by the Trinity;\r\n*It were me lever* than twenty pound worth land,        *I would rather*\r\nThough it right now were fallen in my hand,\r\nHe were a man of such discretion\r\nAs that ye be: fy on possession,\r\n*But if* a man be virtuous withal.                               *unless\r\nI have my sone snibbed* and yet shall,              *rebuked; \u201csnubbed.\u201d\r\nFor he to virtue *listeth not t\u2019intend,*               *does not wish to\r\nBut for to play at dice, and to dispend,                  apply himself*\r\nAnd lose all that he hath, is his usage;\r\nAnd he had lever talke with a page,\r\nThan to commune with any gentle wight,\r\nThere he might learen gentilless aright.\u201d\r\n\r\nStraw for your gentillesse!\u201d quoth our Host.\r\n\u201cWhat? Frankelin, pardie, Sir, well thou wost*                  *knowest\r\nThat each of you must tellen at the least\r\nA tale or two, or breake his behest.\u201d*                          *promise\r\n\u201cThat know I well, Sir,\u201d quoth the Frankelin;\r\n\u201cI pray you have me not in disdain,\r\nThough I to this man speak a word or two.\u201d\r\n\u201cTell on thy tale, withoute wordes mo\u2019.\u201d\r\n\u201cGladly, Sir Host,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI will obey\r\nUnto your will; now hearken what I say;\r\nI will you not contrary* in no wise,                            *disobey\r\nAs far as that my wittes may suffice.\r\nI pray to God that it may please you,\r\nThen wot I well that it is good enow.\r\n\r\n\u201cThese olde gentle Bretons, in their days,\r\nOf divers aventures made lays,<2>\r\nRhymeden in their firste Breton tongue;\r\nWhich layes with their instruments they sung,\r\nOr elles reade them for their pleasance;\r\nAnd one of them have I in remembrance,\r\nWhich I shall say with good will as I can.\r\nBut, Sirs, because I am a borel* man,                   *rude, unlearned\r\nAt my beginning first I you beseech\r\nHave me excused of my rude speech.\r\nI learned never rhetoric, certain;\r\nThing that I speak, it must be bare and plain.\r\nI slept never on the mount of Parnasso,\r\nNor learned Marcus Tullius Cicero.\r\nColoures know I none, withoute dread,*                            *doubt\r\nBut such colours as growen in the mead,\r\nOr elles such as men dye with or paint;\r\nColours of rhetoric be to me quaint;*                           *strange\r\nMy spirit feeleth not of such mattere.\r\nBut, if you list, my tale shall ye hear.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Franklin\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. In the older editions, the verses here given as the prologue\r\nwere prefixed to the Merchant\u2019s Tale, and put into his mouth.\r\nTyrwhitt was abundantly justified, by the internal evidence\r\nafforded by the lines themselves, in transferring them to their\r\npresent place.\r\n\r\n2. The \u201cBreton Lays\u201d were an important and curious element in\r\nthe literature of the Middle Ages; they were originally\r\ncomposed in the Armorican language, and the chief collection\r\nof them extant was translated into French verse by a poetess\r\ncalling herself \u201cMarie,\u201d about the middle of the thirteenth\r\ncentury.  But though this collection was the most famous, and\r\nhad doubtless been read by Chaucer, there were other British or\r\nBreton lays, and from one of those the Franklin\u2019s Tale is taken.\r\nBoccaccio has dealt with the same story in the \u201cDecameron\u201d\r\nand the \u201cPhilocopo,\u201d  altering the circumstances to suit the\r\nremoval of its scene to a southern clime.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.\r\n\r\nIn Armoric\u2019, that called is Bretagne,\r\nThere was a knight, that lov\u2019d and *did his pain*      *devoted himself,\r\nTo serve a lady in his beste wise;                               strove*\r\nAnd many a labour, many a great emprise,*                    *enterprise\r\nHe for his lady wrought, ere she were won:\r\nFor she was one the fairest under sun,\r\nAnd eke thereto come of so high kindred,\r\nThat *well unnethes durst this knight for dread,*         *see note <1>*\r\nTell her his woe, his pain, and his distress\r\nBut, at the last, she for his worthiness,\r\nAnd namely* for his meek obeisance,                          *especially\r\nHath such a pity caught of his penance,*            *suffering, distress\r\nThat privily she fell of his accord\r\nTo take him for her husband and her lord\r\n(Of such lordship as men have o\u2019er their wives);\r\nAnd, for to lead the more in bliss their lives,\r\nOf his free will he swore her as a knight,\r\nThat never in all his life he day nor night\r\nShould take upon himself no mastery\r\nAgainst her will, nor kithe* her jealousy,                         *show\r\nBut her obey, and follow her will in all,\r\nAs any lover to his lady shall;\r\nSave that the name of sovereignety\r\nThat would he have, for shame of his degree.\r\nShe thanked him, and with full great humbless\r\nShe saide; \u201cSir, since of your gentleness\r\nYe proffer me to have so large a reign,\r\n*Ne woulde God never betwixt us twain,\r\nAs in my guilt, were either war or strife:*               *see note <2>*\r\nSir, I will be your humble true wife,\r\nHave here my troth, till that my hearte brest.\u201d*                  *burst\r\nThus be they both in quiet and in rest.\r\n\r\nFor one thing, Sires, safely dare I say,\r\nThat friends ever each other must obey,\r\nIf they will longe hold in company.\r\nLove will not be constrain\u2019d by mastery.\r\nWhen mast\u2019ry comes, the god of love anon\r\nBeateth <3> his wings, and, farewell, he is gone.\r\nLove is a thing as any spirit free.\r\nWomen *of kind* desire liberty,                              *by nature*\r\nAnd not to be constrained as a thrall,*                           *slave\r\nAnd so do men, if soothly I say shall.\r\nLook who that is most patient in love,\r\nHe *is at his advantage all above.*                  *enjoys the highest\r\nPatience is a high virtue certain,                    advantages of all*\r\nFor it vanquisheth, as these clerkes sayn,\r\nThinges that rigour never should attain.\r\nFor every word men may not chide or plain.\r\nLearne to suffer, or, so may I go,*                             *prosper\r\nYe shall it learn whether ye will or no.\r\nFor in this world certain no wight there is,\r\nThat he not doth or saith sometimes amiss.\r\nIre, or sickness, or constellation,*                   *the influence of\r\nWine, woe, or changing of complexion,                       the planets*\r\nCauseth full oft to do amiss or speaken:\r\nOn every wrong a man may not be wreaken.*                      *revenged\r\nAfter* the time must be temperance                         *according to\r\nTo every wight that *can of* governance.                 *is capable of*\r\nAnd therefore hath this worthy wise knight\r\n(To live in ease) sufferance her behight;*                     *promised\r\nAnd she to him full wisly* gan to swear                          *surely\r\nThat never should there be default in her.\r\nHere may men see a humble wife accord;\r\nThus hath she ta\u2019en her servant and her lord,\r\nServant in love, and lord in marriage.\r\nThen was he both in lordship and servage?\r\nServage? nay, but in lordship all above,\r\nSince he had both his lady and his love:\r\nHis lady certes, and his wife also,\r\nThe which that law of love accordeth to.\r\nAnd when he was in this prosperrity,\r\nHome with his wife he went to his country,\r\nNot far from Penmark,<4> where his dwelling was,\r\nAnd there he liv\u2019d in bliss and in solace.*                     *delight\r\nWho coulde tell, but* he had wedded be,                          *unless\r\nThe joy, the ease, and the prosperity,\r\nThat is betwixt a husband and his wife?\r\nA year and more lasted this blissful life,\r\nTill that this knight, of whom I spake thus,\r\nThat of Cairrud <5> was call\u2019d Arviragus,\r\nShope* him to go and dwell a year or twain           *prepared, arranged\r\nIn Engleland, that call\u2019d was eke Britain,\r\nTo seek in armes worship and honour\r\n(For all his lust* he set in such labour);                     *pleasure\r\nAnd dwelled there two years; the book saith thus.\r\n\r\nNow will I stint* of this Arviragus,                     *cease speaking\r\nAnd speak I will of Dorigen his wife,\r\nThat lov\u2019d her husband as her hearte\u2019s life.\r\nFor his absence weepeth she and siketh,*                        *sigheth\r\nAs do these noble wives when them liketh;\r\nShe mourneth, waketh, waileth, fasteth, plaineth;\r\nDesire of his presence her so distraineth,\r\nThat all this wide world she set at nought.\r\nHer friendes, which that knew her heavy thought,\r\nComforte her in all that ever they may;\r\nThey preache her, they tell her night and day,\r\nThat causeless she slays herself, alas!\r\nAnd every comfort possible in this case\r\nThey do to her, with all their business,*                     *assiduity\r\nAnd all to make her leave her heaviness.\r\nBy process, as ye knowen every one,\r\nMen may so longe graven in a stone,\r\nTill some figure therein imprinted be:\r\nSo long have they comforted her, till she\r\nReceived hath, by hope and by reason,\r\nTh\u2019 imprinting of their consolation,\r\nThrough which her greate sorrow gan assuage;\r\nShe may not always duren in such rage.\r\nAnd eke Arviragus, in all this care,\r\nHath sent his letters home of his welfare,\r\nAnd that he will come hastily again,\r\nOr elles had this sorrow her hearty-slain.\r\nHer friendes saw her sorrow gin to slake,*            *slacken, diminish\r\nAnd prayed her on knees for Godde\u2019s sake\r\nTo come and roamen in their company,\r\nAway to drive her darke fantasy;\r\nAnd finally she granted that request,\r\nFor well she saw that it was for the best.\r\n\r\nNow stood her castle faste by the sea,\r\nAnd often with her friendes walked she,\r\nHer to disport upon the bank on high,\r\nThere as many a ship and barge sigh,*                               *saw\r\nSailing their courses, where them list to go.\r\nBut then was that a parcel* of her woe,                            *part\r\nFor to herself full oft, \u201cAlas!\u201d said she,\r\nIs there no ship, of so many as I see,\r\nWill bringe home my lord? then were my heart\r\nAll warish\u2019d* of this bitter paine\u2019s smart.\u201d                  *cured <6>\r\nAnother time would she sit and think,\r\nAnd cast her eyen downward from the brink;\r\nBut when she saw the grisly rockes blake,*                        *black\r\nFor very fear so would her hearte quake,\r\nThat on her feet she might her not sustene*                     *sustain\r\nThen would she sit adown upon the green,\r\nAnd piteously *into the sea behold,*               *look out on the sea*\r\nAnd say right thus, with *careful sikes* cold:           *painful sighs*\r\n\u201cEternal God! that through thy purveyance\r\nLeadest this world by certain governance,\r\n*In idle,* as men say, ye nothing make;                  *idly, in vain*\r\nBut, Lord, these grisly fiendly rockes blake,\r\nThat seem rather a foul confusion\r\nOf work, than any fair creation\r\nOf such a perfect wise God and stable,\r\nWhy have ye wrought this work unreasonable?\r\nFor by this work, north, south, or west, or east,\r\nThere is not foster\u2019d man, nor bird, nor beast:\r\nIt doth no good, to my wit, but *annoyeth.*         *works mischief* <7>\r\nSee ye not, Lord, how mankind it destroyeth?\r\nA hundred thousand bodies of mankind\r\nHave rockes slain, *all be they not in mind;*           *though they are\r\nWhich mankind is so fair part of thy work,                    forgotten*\r\nThou madest it like to thine owen mark.*                          *image\r\nThen seemed it ye had a great cherte*                   *love, affection\r\nToward mankind; but how then may it be\r\nThat ye such meanes make it to destroy?\r\nWhich meanes do no good, but ever annoy.\r\nI wot well, clerkes will say as them lest,*                      *please\r\nBy arguments, that all is for the best,\r\nAlthough I can the causes not y-know;\r\nBut thilke* God that made the wind to blow,                        *that\r\nAs keep my lord, this is my conclusion:\r\nTo clerks leave I all disputation:\r\nBut would to God that all these rockes blake\r\nWere sunken into helle for his sake\r\nThese rockes slay mine hearte for the fear.\u201d\r\nThus would she say, with many a piteous tear.\r\n\r\nHer friendes saw that it was no disport\r\nTo roame by the sea, but discomfort,\r\nAnd shope* them for to playe somewhere else.                   *arranged\r\nThey leade her by rivers and by wells,\r\nAnd eke in other places delectables;\r\nThey dancen, and they play at chess and tables.*             *backgammon\r\nSo on a day, right in the morning-tide,\r\nUnto a garden that was there beside,\r\nIn which that they had made their ordinance*     *provision, arrangement\r\nOf victual, and of other purveyance,\r\nThey go and play them all the longe day:\r\nAnd this was on the sixth morrow of May,\r\nWhich May had painted with his softe showers\r\nThis garden full of leaves and of flowers:\r\nAnd craft of manne\u2019s hand so curiously\r\nArrayed had this garden truely,\r\nThat never was there garden of such price,*               *value, praise\r\n*But if* it were the very Paradise.                             *unless*\r\nTh\u2019odour of flowers, and the freshe sight,\r\nWould have maked any hearte light\r\nThat e\u2019er was born, *but if* too great sickness                 *unless*\r\nOr too great sorrow held it in distress;\r\nSo full it was of beauty and pleasance.\r\nAnd after dinner they began to dance\r\nAnd sing also, save Dorigen alone\r\nWho made alway her complaint and her moan,\r\nFor she saw not him on the dance go\r\nThat was her husband, and her love also;\r\nBut natheless she must a time abide\r\nAnd with good hope let her sorrow slide.\r\n\r\nUpon this dance, amonge other men,\r\nDanced a squier before Dorigen\r\nThat fresher was, and jollier of array\r\n*As to my doom,* than is the month of May.              *in my judgment*\r\nHe sang and danced, passing any man,\r\nThat is or was since that the world began;\r\nTherewith he was, if men should him descrive,\r\nOne of the *beste faring* men alive,                 *most accomplished*\r\nYoung, strong, and virtuous, and rich, and wise,\r\nAnd well beloved, and holden in great price.*             *esteem, value\r\nAnd, shortly if the sooth I telle shall,\r\n*Unweeting of* this Dorigen at all,                         *unknown to*\r\nThis lusty squier, servant to Venus,\r\nWhich that y-called was Aurelius,\r\nHad lov\u2019d her best of any creature\r\nTwo year and more, as was his aventure;*                        *fortune\r\nBut never durst he tell her his grievance;\r\nWithoute cup he drank all his penance.\r\nHe was despaired, nothing durst he say,\r\nSave in his songes somewhat would he wray*                       *betray\r\nHis woe, as in a general complaining;\r\nHe said, he lov\u2019d, and was belov\u2019d nothing.\r\nOf suche matter made he many lays,\r\nSonges, complaintes, roundels, virelays <8>\r\nHow that he durste not his sorrow tell,\r\nBut languished, as doth a Fury in hell;\r\nAnd die he must, he said, as did Echo\r\nFor Narcissus, that durst not tell her woe.\r\nIn other manner than ye hear me say,\r\nHe durste not to her his woe bewray,\r\nSave that paraventure sometimes at dances,\r\nWhere younge folke keep their observances,\r\nIt may well be he looked on her face\r\nIn such a wise, as man that asketh grace,\r\nBut nothing wiste she of his intent.\r\nNath\u2019less it happen\u2019d, ere they thennes* went,         *thence (from the\r\nBecause that he was her neighebour,                             garden)*\r\nAnd was a man of worship and honour,\r\nAnd she had knowen him *of time yore,*                 *for a long time*\r\nThey fell in speech, and forth aye more and more\r\nUnto his purpose drew Aurelius;\r\nAnd when he saw his time, he saide thus:\r\nMadam,\u201d quoth he, \u201cby God that this world made,\r\nSo that I wist it might your hearte glade,*                     *gladden\r\nI would, that day that your Arviragus\r\nWent over sea, that I, Aurelius,\r\nHad gone where I should never come again;\r\nFor well I wot my service is in vain.\r\nMy guerdon* is but bursting of mine heart.                       *reward\r\nMadame, rue upon my paine\u2019s smart,\r\nFor with a word ye may me slay or save.\r\nHere at your feet God would that I were grave.\r\nI have now no leisure more to say:\r\nHave mercy, sweet, or you will *do me dey.\u201d*           *cause me to die*\r\n\r\nShe gan to look upon Aurelius;\r\n\u201cIs this your will,\u201d quoth she, \u201cand say ye thus?\r\nNe\u2019er erst,\u201d* quoth she, \u201cI wiste what ye meant:                 *before\r\nBut now, Aurelius, I know your intent.\r\nBy thilke* God that gave me soul and life,                         *that\r\nNever shall I be an untrue wife\r\nIn word nor work, as far as I have wit;\r\nI will be his to whom that I am knit;\r\nTake this for final answer as of me.\u201d\r\nBut after that *in play* thus saide she.            *playfully, in jest*\r\n\u201cAurelius,\u201d quoth she, \u201cby high God above,\r\nYet will I grante you to be your love\r\n(Since I you see so piteously complain);\r\nLooke, what day that endelong* Bretagne              *from end to end of\r\nYe remove all the rockes, stone by stone,\r\nThat they not lette* ship nor boat to gon,                      *prevent\r\nI say, when ye have made this coast so clean\r\nOf rockes, that there is no stone seen,\r\nThen will I love you best of any man;\r\nHave here my troth, in all that ever I can;\r\nFor well I wot that it shall ne\u2019er betide.\r\nLet such folly out of your hearte glide.\r\nWhat dainty* should a man have in his life              *value, pleasure\r\nFor to go love another manne\u2019s wife,\r\nThat hath her body when that ever him liketh?\u201d\r\nAurelius full often sore siketh;*                               *sigheth\r\nIs there none other grace in you?\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cNo, by that Lord,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthat maked me.\r\nWoe was Aurelius when that he this heard,\r\nAnd with a sorrowful heart he thus answer\u2019d.\r\n\u201cMadame, quoth he, \u201cthis were an impossible.\r\nThen must I die of sudden death horrible.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word he turned him anon.\r\n\r\nThen came her other friends many a one,\r\nAnd in the alleys roamed up and down,\r\nAnd nothing wist of this conclusion,\r\nBut suddenly began to revel new,\r\nTill that the brighte sun had lost his hue,\r\nFor th\u2019 horizon had reft the sun his light\r\n(This is as much to say as it was night);\r\nAnd home they go in mirth and in solace;\r\nSave only wretch\u2019d Aurelius, alas\r\nHe to his house is gone with sorrowful heart.\r\nHe said, he may not from his death astart.*                      *escape\r\nHim seemed, that he felt his hearte cold.\r\nUp to the heav\u2019n his handes gan he hold,\r\nAnd on his knees bare he set him down.\r\nAnd in his raving said his orisoun.*                             *prayer\r\nFor very woe out of his wit he braid;*                         *wandered\r\nHe wist not what he spake, but thus he said;\r\nWith piteous heart his plaint hath he begun\r\nUnto the gods, and first unto the Sun.\r\nHe said; \u201cApollo God and governour\r\nOf every plante, herbe, tree, and flower,\r\nThat giv\u2019st, after thy declination,\r\nTo each of them his time and his season,\r\nAs thine herberow* changeth low and high;           *dwelling, situation\r\nLord Phoebus: cast thy merciable eye\r\nOn wretched Aurelius, which that am but lorn.*                   *undone\r\nLo, lord, my lady hath my death y-sworn,\r\nWithoute guilt, but* thy benignity                               *unless\r\nUpon my deadly heart have some pity.\r\nFor well I wot, Lord Phoebus, if you lest,*                      *please\r\nYe may me helpe, save my lady, best.\r\nNow vouchsafe, that I may you devise*                     *tell, explain\r\nHow that I may be holp,* and in what wise.                       *helped\r\nYour blissful sister, Lucina the sheen, <9>\r\nThat of the sea is chief goddess and queen, \u2014\r\nThough Neptunus have deity in the sea,\r\nYet emperess above him is she;  \u2014\r\nYe know well, lord, that, right as her desire\r\nIs to be quick\u2019d* and lighted of your fire,                   *quickened\r\nFor which she followeth you full busily,\r\nRight so the sea desireth naturally\r\nTo follow her, as she that is goddess\r\nBoth in the sea and rivers more and less.\r\nWherefore, Lord Phoebus, this is my request,\r\nDo this miracle, or *do mine hearte brest;*              *cause my heart\r\nThat flow, next at this opposition,                            to burst*\r\nWhich in the sign shall be of the Lion,\r\nAs praye her so great a flood to bring,\r\nThat five fathom at least it overspring\r\nThe highest rock in Armoric Bretagne,\r\nAnd let this flood endure yeares twain:\r\nThen certes to my lady may I say,\r\n\u201cHolde your hest,\u201d the rockes be away.\r\nLord Phoebus, this miracle do for me,\r\nPray her she go no faster course than ye;\r\nI say this, pray your sister that she go\r\nNo faster course than ye these yeares two:\r\nThen shall she be even at full alway,\r\nAnd spring-flood laste bothe night and day.\r\nAnd *but she* vouchesafe in such mannere                 *if she do not*\r\nTo grante me my sov\u2019reign lady dear,\r\nPray her to sink every rock adown\r\nInto her owen darke regioun\r\nUnder the ground, where Pluto dwelleth in\r\nOr nevermore shall I my lady win.\r\nThy temple in Delphos will I barefoot seek.\r\nLord Phoebus! see the teares on my cheek\r\nAnd on my pain have some compassioun.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word in sorrow he fell down,\r\nAnd longe time he lay forth in a trance.\r\nHis brother, which that knew of his penance,*                  *distress\r\nUp caught him, and to bed he hath him brought,\r\nDespaired in this torment and this thought\r\nLet I this woeful creature lie;\r\nChoose he for me whe\u2019er* he will live or die.                   *whether\r\n\r\nArviragus with health and great honour\r\n(As he that was of chivalry the flow\u2019r)\r\nIs come home, and other worthy men.\r\nOh, blissful art thou now, thou Dorigen!\r\nThou hast thy lusty husband in thine arms,\r\nThe freshe knight, the worthy man of arms,\r\nThat loveth thee as his own hearte\u2019s life:\r\n*Nothing list him to be imaginatif*              *he cared not to fancy*\r\nIf any wight had spoke, while he was out,\r\nTo her of love; he had of that no doubt;*               *fear, suspicion\r\nHe not intended* to no such mattere,              *occupied himself with\r\nBut danced, jousted, and made merry cheer.\r\nAnd thus in joy and bliss I let them dwell,\r\nAnd of the sick Aurelius will I tell\r\nIn languor and in torment furious\r\nTwo year and more lay wretch\u2019d Aurelius,\r\nEre any foot on earth he mighte gon;\r\nNor comfort in this time had he none,\r\nSave of his brother, which that was a clerk.*                   *scholar\r\nHe knew of all this woe and all this work;\r\nFor to none other creature certain\r\nOf this matter he durst no worde sayn;\r\nUnder his breast he bare it more secree\r\nThan e\u2019er did Pamphilus for Galatee.<10>\r\nHis breast was whole withoute for to seen,\r\nBut in his heart aye was the arrow keen,\r\nAnd well ye know that of a sursanure <11>\r\nIn surgery is perilous the cure,\r\nBut* men might touch the arrow or come thereby.                  *except\r\nHis brother wept and wailed privily,\r\nTill at the last him fell in remembrance,\r\nThat while he was at Orleans <12> in France, \u2014\r\nAs younge clerkes, that be likerous* \u2014                           *eager\r\nTo readen artes that be curious,\r\nSeeken in every *halk and every hern*             *nook and corner* <13>\r\nParticular sciences for to learn,\u2014\r\nHe him remember\u2019d, that upon a day\r\nAt Orleans in study a book he say*                                  *saw\r\nOf magic natural, which his fellaw,\r\nThat was that time a bachelor of law\r\nAll* were he there to learn another craft,                       *though\r\nHad privily upon his desk y-laft;\r\nWhich book spake much of operations\r\nTouching the eight and-twenty mansions\r\nThat longe to the Moon, and such folly\r\nAs in our dayes is not worth a fly;\r\nFor holy church\u2019s faith, in our believe,*                 *belief, creed\r\nUs suff\u2019reth none illusion to grieve.\r\nAnd when this book was in his remembrance\r\nAnon for joy his heart began to dance,\r\nAnd to himself he saide privily;\r\n\u201cMy brother shall be warish\u2019d* hastily                            *cured\r\nFor I am sicker* that there be sciences,                        *certain\r\nBy which men make divers apparences,\r\nSuch as these subtle tregetoures play.                  *tricksters <14>\r\nFor oft at feaste\u2019s have I well heard say,\r\nThat tregetours, within a halle large,\r\nHave made come in a water and a barge,\r\nAnd in the halle rowen up and down.\r\nSometimes hath seemed come a grim lioun,\r\nAnd sometimes flowers spring as in a mead;\r\nSometimes a vine, and grapes white and red;\r\nSometimes a castle all of lime and stone;\r\nAnd, when them liked, voided* it anon:                         *vanished\r\nThus seemed it to every manne\u2019s sight.\r\nNow then conclude I thus; if that I might\r\nAt Orleans some olde fellow find,\r\nThat hath these Moone\u2019s mansions in mind,\r\nOr other magic natural above.\r\nHe should well make my brother have his love.\r\nFor with an appearance a clerk* may make,                   *learned man\r\nTo manne\u2019s sight, that all the rockes blake\r\nOf Bretagne were voided* every one,                             *removed\r\nAnd shippes by the brinke come and gon,\r\nAnd in such form endure a day or two;\r\nThen were my brother warish\u2019d* of his woe,                        *cured\r\nThen must she needes *holde her behest,*              *keep her promise*\r\nOr elles he shall shame her at the least.\u201d\r\nWhy should I make a longer tale of this?\r\nUnto his brother\u2019s bed he comen is,\r\nAnd such comfort he gave him, for to gon\r\nTo Orleans, that he upstart anon,\r\nAnd on his way forth-ward then is he fare,*                        *gone\r\nIn hope for to be lissed* of his care.                    *eased of <15>\r\n\r\nWhen they were come almost to that city,\r\n*But if it were* a two furlong or three,                       *all but*\r\nA young clerk roaming by himself they met,\r\nWhich that in Latin *thriftily them gret.*                 *greeted them\r\nAnd after that he said a wondrous thing;                        civilly*\r\nI know,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthe cause of your coming;\u201d\r\nAud ere they farther any foote went,\r\nHe told them all that was in their intent.\r\nThe Breton clerk him asked of fellaws\r\nThe which he hadde known in olde daws,*                            *days\r\nAnd he answer\u2019d him that they deade were,\r\nFor which he wept full often many a tear.\r\nDown off his horse Aurelius light anon,\r\nAnd forth with this magician is be gone\r\nHome to his house, and made him well at ease;\r\nThem lacked no vitail* that might them please.           *victuals, food\r\nSo well-array\u2019d a house as there was one,\r\nAurelius in his life saw never none.\r\nHe shewed him, ere they went to suppere,\r\nForestes, parkes, full of wilde deer.\r\nThere saw he hartes with their hornes high,\r\nThe greatest that were ever seen with eye.\r\nHe saw of them an hundred slain with hounds,\r\nAnd some with arrows bleed of bitter wounds.\r\nHe saw, when voided* were the wilde deer,                   *passed away\r\nThese falconers upon a fair rivere,\r\nThat with their hawkes have the heron slain.\r\nThen saw he knightes jousting in a plain.\r\nAnd after this he did him such pleasance,\r\nThat he him shew\u2019d his lady on a dance,\r\nIn which himselfe danced, as him thought.\r\nAnd when this master, that this magic wrought,\r\nSaw it was time, he clapp\u2019d his handes two,\r\nAnd farewell, all the revel is y-go.*                     *gone, removed\r\nAnd yet remov\u2019d they never out of the house,\r\nWhile they saw all the sightes marvellous;\r\nBut in his study, where his bookes be,\r\nThey satte still, and no wight but they three.\r\nTo him this master called his squier,\r\n\r\nAnd said him thus, \u201cMay we go to supper?\r\nAlmost an hour it is, I undertake,\r\nSince I you bade our supper for to make,\r\nWhen that these worthy men wente with me\r\nInto my study, where my bookes be.\u201d\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth this squier, \u201cwhen it liketh you.\r\nIt is all ready, though ye will right now.\u201d\r\n\u201cGo we then sup,\u201d quoth he, \u201cas for the best;\r\nThese amorous folk some time must have rest.\u201d\r\nAt after supper fell they in treaty\r\nWhat summe should this master\u2019s guerdon* be,                     *reward\r\nTo remove all the rockes of Bretagne,\r\nAnd eke from Gironde <16> to the mouth of Seine.\r\nHe made it strange,* and swore, so God him save,            *a matter of\r\nLess than a thousand pound he would not have,                difficulty*\r\n*Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon.*              *see note <17>*\r\nAurelius with blissful heart anon\r\nAnswered thus; \u201cFie on a thousand pound!\r\nThis wide world, which that men say is round,\r\nI would it give, if I were lord of it.\r\nThis bargain is full-driv\u2019n, for we be knit;*                    *agreed\r\nYe shall be payed truly by my troth.\r\nBut looke, for no negligence or sloth,\r\nYe tarry us here no longer than to-morrow.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the clerk, *\u201chave here my faith to borrow.\u201d*   *I pledge my\r\nTo bed is gone Aurelius when him lest,                      faith on it*\r\nAnd well-nigh all that night he had his rest,\r\nWhat for his labour, and his hope of bliss,\r\nHis woeful heart *of penance had a liss.*                 *had a respite\r\n                                                         from suffering*\r\nUpon the morrow, when that it was day,\r\nUnto Bretagne they took the righte way,\r\nAurelius and this magician beside,\r\nAnd be descended where they would abide:\r\nAnd this was, as the bookes me remember,\r\nThe colde frosty season of December.\r\nPhoebus wax\u2019d old, and hued like latoun,*                         *brass\r\nThat in his hote declinatioun\r\nShone as the burned gold, with streames* bright;                  *beams\r\nBut now in Capricorn adown he light,\r\nWhere as he shone full pale, I dare well sayn.\r\nThe bitter frostes, with the sleet and rain,\r\nDestroyed have the green in every yard.               *courtyard, garden\r\nJanus sits by the fire with double beard,\r\nAnd drinketh of his bugle horn the wine:\r\nBefore him stands the brawn of tusked swine\r\nAnd \u201cnowel\u201d* crieth every lusty man                           *Noel <18>\r\nAurelius, in all that ev\u2019r he can,\r\nDid to his master cheer and reverence,\r\nAnd prayed him to do his diligence\r\nTo bringe him out of his paines smart,\r\nOr with a sword that he would slit his heart.\r\nThis subtle clerk such ruth* had on this man,                      *pity\r\nThat night and day he sped him, that he can,\r\nTo wait a time of his conclusion;\r\nThis is to say, to make illusion,\r\nBy such an appearance of jugglery\r\n(I know no termes of astrology),\r\nThat she and every wight should ween and say,\r\nThat of Bretagne the rockes were away,\r\nOr else they were sunken under ground.\r\nSo at the last he hath a time found\r\nTo make his japes* and his wretchedness                          *tricks\r\nOf such a *superstitious cursedness.*              *detestable villainy*\r\nHis tables Toletanes <19> forth he brought,\r\nFull well corrected, that there lacked nought,\r\nNeither his collect, nor his expanse years,\r\nNeither his rootes, nor his other gears,\r\nAs be his centres, and his arguments,\r\nAnd his proportional convenients\r\nFor his equations in everything.\r\nAnd by his eighte spheres in his working,\r\nHe knew full well how far Alnath <20> was shove\r\nFrom the head of that fix\u2019d Aries above,\r\nThat in the ninthe sphere consider\u2019d is.\r\nFull subtilly he calcul\u2019d all this.\r\nWhen he had found his firste mansion,\r\nHe knew the remnant by proportion;\r\nAnd knew the rising of his moone well,\r\nAnd in whose face, and term, and every deal;\r\nAnd knew full well the moone\u2019s mansion\r\nAccordant to his operation;\r\nAnd knew also his other observances,\r\nFor such illusions and such meschances,*                 *wicked devices\r\nAs heathen folk used in thilke days.\r\nFor which no longer made he delays;\r\nBut through his magic, for a day or tway, <21>\r\nIt seemed all the rockes were away.\r\n\r\nAurelius, which yet despaired is\r\nWhe\u2019er* he shall have his love, or fare amiss,                  *whether\r\nAwaited night and day on this miracle:\r\nAnd when he knew that there was none obstacle,\r\nThat voided* were these rockes every one,                       *removed\r\nDown at his master\u2019s feet he fell anon,\r\nAnd said; \u201cI, woeful wretch\u2019d Aurelius,\r\nThank you, my Lord, and lady mine Venus,\r\nThat me have holpen from my cares cold.\u201d\r\nAnd to the temple his way forth hath he hold,\r\nWhere as he knew he should his lady see.\r\nAnd when he saw his time, anon right he\r\nWith dreadful* heart and with full humble cheer**        *fearful **mien\r\nSaluteth hath his sovereign lady dear.\r\n\u201cMy rightful Lady,\u201d quoth this woeful man,\r\n\u201cWhom I most dread, and love as I best can,\r\nAnd lothest were of all this world displease,\r\nWere\u2019t not that I for you have such disease,*      *distress, affliction\r\nThat I must die here at your foot anon,\r\nNought would I tell how me is woebegone.\r\nBut certes either must I die or plain;*                          *bewail\r\nYe slay me guilteless for very pain.\r\nBut of my death though that ye have no ruth,\r\nAdvise you, ere that ye break your truth:\r\nRepente you, for thilke God above,\r\nEre ye me slay because that I you love.\r\nFor, Madame, well ye wot what ye have hight;*                  *promised\r\nNot that I challenge anything of right\r\nOf you,  my sovereign lady, but of grace:\r\nBut in a garden yond\u2019, in such a place,\r\nYe wot right well what ye behighte* me,                        *promised\r\nAnd in mine hand your trothe plighted ye,\r\nTo love me best; God wot ye saide so,\r\nAlbeit that I unworthy am thereto;\r\nMadame, I speak it for th\u2019 honour of you,\r\nMore than to save my hearte\u2019s life right now;\r\nI have done so as ye commanded me,\r\nAnd if ye vouchesafe, ye may go see.\r\nDo as you list, have your behest in mind,\r\nFor, quick or dead, right there ye shall me find;\r\nIn you hes all to *do me live or dey;*                      *cause me to\r\nBut well I wot the rockes be away.\u201d                         live or die*\r\n\r\nHe took his leave, and she astonish\u2019d stood;\r\nIn all her face was not one drop of blood:\r\nShe never ween\u2019d t\u2019have come in such a trap.\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201cthat ever this should hap!\r\nFor ween\u2019d I ne\u2019er, by possibility,\r\nThat such a monster or marvail might be;\r\nIt is against the process of nature.\u201d\r\nAnd home she went a sorrowful creature;\r\nFor very fear unnethes* may she go.                            *scarcely\r\nShe weeped, wailed, all a day or two,\r\nAnd swooned, that it ruthe was to see:\r\nBut why it was, to no wight tolde she,\r\nFor out of town was gone Arviragus.\r\nBut to herself she spake, and saide thus,\r\nWith face pale, and full sorrowful cheer,\r\nIn her complaint, as ye shall after hear.\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201con thee, Fortune, I plain,*                *complain\r\nThat unware hast me wrapped in thy chain,\r\nFrom which to scape, wot I no succour,\r\nSave only death, or elles dishonour;\r\nOne of these two behoveth me to choose.\r\nBut natheless, yet had I lever* lose                     *sooner, rather\r\nMy life, than of my body have shame,\r\nOr know myselfe false, or lose my name;\r\nAnd with my death *I may be quit y-wis.*       *I may certainly purchase\r\nHath there not many a noble wife, ere this,                my exemption*\r\nAnd many a maiden, slain herself, alas!\r\nRather than with her body do trespass?\r\nYes, certes; lo, these stories bear witness. <22>\r\nWhen thirty tyrants full of cursedness*                      *wickedness\r\nHad slain Phidon in Athens at the feast,\r\nThey commanded his daughters to arrest,\r\nAnd bringe them before them, in despite,\r\nAll naked, to fulfil their foul delight;\r\nAnd in their father\u2019s blood they made them dance\r\nUpon the pavement, \u2014 God give them mischance.\r\nFor which these woeful maidens, full of dread,\r\nRather than they would lose their maidenhead,\r\nThey privily *be start* into a well,                    *suddenly leaped\r\nAnd drowned themselves, as the bookes tell.\r\nThey of Messene let inquire and seek\r\nOf Lacedaemon fifty maidens eke,\r\nOn which they woulde do their lechery:\r\nBut there was none of all that company\r\nThat was not slain, and with a glad intent\r\nChose rather for to die, than to assent\r\nTo be oppressed* of her maidenhead.                     *forcibly bereft\r\nWhy should I then to dien be in dread?\r\nLo, eke the tyrant Aristoclides,\r\nThat lov\u2019d a maiden hight Stimphalides,\r\nWhen that her father slain was on a night,\r\nUnto Diana\u2019s temple went she right,\r\nAnd hent* the image in her handes two,                  *caught, clasped\r\nFrom which image she woulde never go;\r\nNo wight her handes might off it arace,*            *pluck away by force\r\nTill she was slain right in the selfe* place.                      *same\r\nNow since that maidens hadde such despite\r\nTo be defouled with man\u2019s foul delight,\r\nWell ought a wife rather herself to sle,*                          *slay\r\nThan be defouled, as it thinketh me.\r\nWhat shall I say of Hasdrubale\u2019s wife,\r\nThat at Carthage bereft herself of life?\r\nFor, when she saw the Romans win the town,\r\nShe took her children all, and skipt adown\r\nInto the fire, and rather chose to die,\r\nThan any Roman did her villainy.\r\nHath not Lucretia slain herself, alas!\r\nAt Rome, when that she oppressed* was                          *ravished\r\nOf Tarquin? for her thought it was a shame\r\nTo live, when she hadde lost her name.\r\nThe seven maidens of Milesie also\r\nHave slain themselves for very dread and woe,\r\nRather than folk of Gaul them should oppress.\r\nMore than a thousand stories, as I guess,\r\nCould I now tell as touching this mattere.\r\nWhen Abradate was slain, his wife so dear <23>\r\nHerselfe slew, and let her blood to glide\r\nIn Abradate\u2019s woundes, deep and wide,\r\nAnd said, \u2018My body at the leaste way\r\nThere shall no wight defoul, if that I may.\u2019\r\nWhy should I more examples hereof sayn?\r\nSince that so many have themselves slain,\r\nWell rather than they would defouled be,\r\nI will conclude that it is bet* for me                           *better\r\nTo slay myself, than be defouled thus.\r\nI will be true unto Arviragus,\r\nOr elles slay myself in some mannere,\r\nAs did Demotione\u2019s daughter dear,\r\nBecause she woulde not defouled be.\r\nO Sedasus, it is full great pity\r\nTo reade how thy daughters died, alas!\r\nThat slew themselves *for suche manner cas.*        *in circumstances of\r\nAs great a pity was it, or well more,                     the same kind*\r\nThe Theban maiden, that for Nicanor\r\nHerselfe slew, right for such manner woe.\r\nAnother Theban maiden did right so;\r\nFor one of Macedon had her oppress\u2019d,\r\nShe with her death her maidenhead redress\u2019d.*                *vindicated\r\nWhat shall I say of Niceratus\u2019 wife,\r\nThat for such case bereft herself her life?\r\nHow true was eke to Alcibiades\r\nHis love, that for to dien rather chese,*                         *chose\r\nThan for to suffer his body unburied be?\r\nLo, what a wife was Alceste?\u201d quoth she.\r\n\u201cWhat saith Homer of good Penelope?\r\nAll Greece knoweth of her chastity.\r\nPardie, of Laedamia is written thus,\r\nThat when at Troy was slain Protesilaus, <24>\r\nNo longer would she live after his day.\r\nThe same of noble Porcia tell I may;\r\nWithoute Brutus coulde she not live,\r\nTo whom she did all whole her hearte give. <25>\r\nThe perfect wifehood of Artemisie <26>\r\nHonoured is throughout all Barbarie.\r\nO Teuta <27> queen, thy wifely chastity\r\nTo alle wives may a mirror be.\u201d <28>\r\n\r\nThus plained Dorigen a day or tway,\r\nPurposing ever that she woulde dey;*                                *die\r\nBut natheless upon the thirde night\r\nHome came Arviragus, the worthy knight,\r\nAnd asked her why that she wept so sore.\r\nAnd she gan weepen ever longer more.\r\n\u201cAlas,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthat ever I was born!\r\nThus have I said,\u201d quoth she; \u201cthus have I sworn. \u201c\r\nAnd told him all, as ye have heard before:\r\nIt needeth not rehearse it you no more.\r\nThis husband with glad cheer,* in friendly wise,              *demeanour\r\nAnswer\u2019d and said, as I shall you devise.*                       *relate\r\n\u201cIs there aught elles, Dorigen, but this?\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d quoth she, \u201cGod help me so, *as wis*             *assuredly*\r\nThis is too much, an* it were Godde\u2019s will.\u201d                         *if\r\n\u201cYea, wife,\u201d quoth he, \u201clet sleepe what is still,\r\nIt may be well par\u2019venture yet to-day.\r\nYe shall your trothe holde, by my fay.\r\nFor, God so wisly* have mercy on me,                          *certainly\r\n*I had well lever sticked for to be,*            *I had rather be slain*\r\nFor very love which I to you have,\r\nBut if ye should your trothe keep and save.\r\nTruth is the highest thing that man may keep.\u201d\r\nBut with that word he burst anon to weep,\r\nAnd said; \u201cI you forbid, on pain of death,\r\nThat never, while you lasteth life or breath,\r\nTo no wight tell ye this misaventure;\r\nAs I may best, I will my woe endure,\r\nNor make no countenance of heaviness,\r\nThat folk of you may deeme harm, or guess.\u201d\r\nAnd forth he call\u2019d a squier and a maid.\r\n\u201cGo forth anon with Dorigen,\u201d he said,\r\n\u201cAnd bringe her to such a place anon.\u201d\r\nThey take their leave, and on their way they gon:\r\nBut they not wiste why she thither went;\r\nHe would to no wight telle his intent.\r\n\r\nThis squier, which that hight Aurelius,\r\nOn Dorigen that was so amorous,\r\nOf aventure happen\u2019d her to meet\r\nAmid the town, right in the quickest* street,                   *nearest\r\nAs she was bound* to go the way forthright         *prepared, going <29>\r\nToward the garden, there as she had hight.*                    *promised\r\nAnd he was to the garden-ward also;\r\nFor well he spied when she woulde go\r\nOut of her house, to any manner place;\r\nBut thus they met, of aventure or grace,\r\nAnd he saluted her with glad intent,\r\nAnd asked of her whitherward she went.\r\nAnd she answered, half as she were mad,\r\n\u201cUnto the garden, as my husband bade,\r\nMy trothe for to hold, alas! alas!\u201d\r\nAurelius gan to wonder on this case,\r\nAnd in his heart had great compassion\r\nOf her, and of her lamentation,\r\nAnd of Arviragus, the worthy knight,\r\nThat bade her hold all that she hadde hight;\r\nSo loth him was his wife should break her truth*    *troth, pledged word\r\nAnd in his heart he caught of it great ruth,*                      *pity\r\nConsidering the best on every side,\r\n*That from his lust yet were him lever abide,*           *see note <30>*\r\nThan do so high a churlish wretchedness*                     *wickedness\r\nAgainst franchise,* and alle gentleness;                     *generosity\r\nFor which in fewe words he saide thus;\r\n\u201cMadame, say to your lord Arviragus,\r\nThat since I see the greate gentleness\r\nOf him, and eke I see well your distress,\r\nThat him were lever* have shame (and that were ruth)**    *rather **pity\r\nThan ye to me should breake thus your truth,\r\nI had well lever aye* to suffer woe,                            *forever\r\nThan to depart* the love betwixt you two.              *sunder, split up\r\nI you release, Madame, into your hond,\r\nQuit ev\u2019ry surement* and ev\u2019ry bond,                             *surety\r\nThat ye have made to me as herebeforn,\r\nSince thilke time that ye were born.\r\nHave here my truth, I shall you ne\u2019er repreve*                 *reproach\r\n*Of no behest;* and here I take my leave,             *of no (breach of)\r\nAs of the truest and the beste wife                             promise*\r\nThat ever yet I knew in all my life.\r\nBut every wife beware of her behest;\r\nOn Dorigen remember at the least.\r\nThus can a squier do a gentle deed,\r\nAs well as can a knight, withoute drede.\u201d*                        *doubt\r\n\r\nShe thanked him upon her knees bare,\r\nAnd home unto her husband is she fare,*                            *gone\r\nAnd told him all, as ye have hearde said;\r\nAnd, truste me, he was so *well apaid,*                      *satisfied*\r\nThat it were impossible me to write.\r\nWhy should I longer of this case indite?\r\nArviragus and Dorigen his wife\r\nIn sov\u2019reign blisse ledde forth their life;\r\nNe\u2019er after was there anger them between;\r\nHe cherish\u2019d her as though she were a queen,\r\nAnd she was to him true for evermore;\r\nOf these two folk ye get of me no more.\r\n\r\nAurelius, that his cost had *all forlorn,*                *utterly lost*\r\nCursed the time that ever he was born.\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201calas that I behight*                        *promised\r\nOf pured* gold a thousand pound of weight                       *refined\r\nTo this philosopher! how shall I do?\r\nI see no more, but that I am fordo.*                     *ruined, undone\r\nMine heritage must I needes sell,\r\nAnd be a beggar; here I will not dwell,\r\nAnd shamen all my kindred in this place,\r\nBut* I of him may gette better grace.                            *unless\r\nBut natheless I will of him assay\r\nAt certain dayes year by year to pay,\r\nAnd thank him of his greate courtesy.\r\nMy trothe will I keep, I will not he.\u201d\r\nWith hearte sore he went unto his coffer,\r\nAnd broughte gold unto this philosopher,\r\nThe value of five hundred pound, I guess,\r\nAnd him beseeched, of his gentleness,\r\nTo grant him *dayes of* the remenant;                   *time to pay up*\r\nAnd said; \u201cMaster, I dare well make avaunt,\r\nI failed never of my truth as yet.\r\nFor sickerly my debte shall be quit\r\nTowardes you how so that e\u2019er I fare\r\nTo go a-begging in my kirtle bare:\r\nBut would ye vouchesafe, upon surety,\r\nTwo year, or three, for to respite me,\r\nThen were I well, for elles must I sell\r\nMine heritage; there is no more to tell.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis philosopher soberly* answer\u2019d,                             *gravely\r\nAnd saide thus, when he these wordes heard;\r\n\u201cHave I not holden covenant to thee?\u201d\r\n\u201cYes, certes, well and truely,\u201d quoth he.\r\n\u201cHast thou not had thy lady as thee liked?\u201d\r\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d quoth he, and sorrowfully siked.*                      *sighed\r\n\u201cWhat was the cause? tell me if thou can.\u201d\r\nAurelius his tale anon began,\r\nAnd told him all as ye have heard before,\r\nIt needeth not to you rehearse it more.\r\nHe said, \u201cArviragus of gentleness\r\nHad lever* die in sorrow and distress,                           *rather\r\nThan that his wife were of her trothe false.\u201d\r\nThe sorrow of Dorigen he told him als\u2019,*                           *also\r\nHow loth her was to be a wicked wife,\r\nAnd that she lever had lost that day her life;\r\nAnd that her troth she swore through innocence;\r\nShe ne\u2019er erst* had heard speak of apparence**   *before **see note <31>\r\nThat made me have of her so great pity,\r\nAnd right as freely as he sent her to me,\r\nAs freely sent I her to him again:\r\nThis is all and some, there is no more to sayn.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe philosopher answer\u2019d; \u201cLeve* brother,                          *dear\r\nEvereach of you did gently to the other;\r\nThou art a squier, and he is a knight,\r\nBut God forbidde, for his blissful might,\r\nBut if a clerk could do a gentle deed\r\nAs well as any of you, it is no drede*                            *doubt\r\nSir, I release thee thy thousand pound,\r\nAs thou right now were crept out of the ground,\r\nNor ever ere now haddest knowen me.\r\nFor, Sir, I will not take a penny of thee\r\nFor all my craft, nor naught for my travail;*             *labour, pains\r\nThou hast y-payed well for my vitaille;\r\nIt is enough; and farewell, have good day.\u201d\r\nAnd took his horse, and forth he went his way.\r\nLordings, this question would I aske now,\r\nWhich was the moste free,* as thinketh you?               *generous <32>\r\nNow telle me, ere that ye farther wend.\r\nI can* no more, my tale is at an end.                    *know, can tell\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The Franklin\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Well unnethes durst this knight for dread: This knight hardly\r\ndared,  for fear (that she would not entertain his suit.)\r\n\r\n2. \u201cNe woulde God never betwixt us twain,\r\nAs in my guilt, were either war or strife\u201d\r\nWould to God there may never be war or strife between us,\r\nthrough my fault.\r\n\r\n3. Perhaps the true reading is \u201cbeteth\u201d \u2014 prepares, makes ready,\r\nhis wings for flight.\r\n\r\n4. Penmark: On the west coast of Brittany, between Brest and\r\nL\u2019Orient.  The name is composed of two British words, \u201cpen,\u201d\r\nmountain, and \u201cmark,\u201d region; it therefore means the\r\nmountainous country\r\n\r\n5. Cairrud: \u201cThe red city;\u201d it is not known where it was\r\nsituated.\r\n\r\n6. Warished: cured; French, \u201cguerir,\u201d to heal, or recover from\r\nsickness.\r\n\r\n7. Annoyeth: works mischief; from Latin, \u201cnocco,\u201d I hurt.\r\n\r\n8. Virelays:  ballads; the \u201cvirelai\u201d was an ancient French poem\r\nof two rhymes.\r\n\r\n9. Lucina the sheen:  Diana the bright. See note 54 to the\r\nKnight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n10. In a Latin poem, very popular in Chaucer\u2019s time, Pamphilus\r\nrelates his amour with Galatea, setting out with the idea\r\nadopted by our poet in the lines that follow.\r\n\r\n11. Sursanure:  A wound healed on the surface, but festering\r\nbeneath.\r\n\r\n12. Orleans:  Where there was a celebrated and very famous\r\nuniversity, afterwards eclipsed by that of Paris.  It was founded\r\nby Philip le Bel in 1312.\r\n\r\n13. Every  halk and every hern: Every nook and corner, Anglo-\r\nSaxon, \u201chealc,\u201d a nook; \u201chyrn,\u201d a corner.\r\n\r\n14. Tregetoures: tricksters, jugglers. The word is probably\r\nderived \u2014 in \u201ctreget,\u201d deceit or imposture \u2014 from the French\r\n\u201ctrebuchet,\u201d a military machine; since it is evident that much and\r\nelaborate machinery must have been employed to produce the\r\neffects afterwards described. Another derivation is from the\r\nLow Latin, \u201ctricator,\u201d a deceiver.\r\n\r\n15. Lissed of: eased of; released from; another form of \u201cless\u201d or\r\n\u201clessen.\u201d\r\n\r\n16. Gironde:  The river, formed by the union of the Dordogne\r\nand Garonne, on which Bourdeaux stands.\r\n\r\n17. Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon: And even for\r\nthat sum he would not willingly go to work.\r\n\r\n18. \u201cNoel,\u201d the French for Christmas \u2014 derived from \u201cnatalis,\u201d\r\nand signifying that on that day Christ was born \u2014 came to be\r\nused as a festive cry by the people on solemn occasions.\r\n\r\n19. Tables Toletanes: Toledan tables; the astronomical tables\r\ncomposed by order Of Alphonso II, King of Castile, about 1250\r\nand so called because they were adapted to the city of Toledo.\r\n\r\n20. \u201cAlnath,\u201d Says Mr Wright, was \u201cthe first star in the horns of\r\nAries, whence the first mansion of the moon is named.\u201d\r\n\r\n21. Another and better reading is \u201ca week or two.\u201d\r\n\r\n22. These stories are all taken from the book of St Jerome\r\n\u201cContra Jovinianum,\u201d from which the Wife of Bath drew so\r\nmany of her ancient instances. See note 1 to the prologue to the\r\nWife of Bath\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n23. Panthea.  Abradatas, King of Susa, was an ally of the\r\nAssyrians against Cyrus; and his wife was taken at the conquest\r\nof the Assyrian camp.  Struck by the honourable treatment she\r\nreceived at the captors hands, Abradatas joined Cyrus, and fell\r\nin battle against his former alhes.  His wife, inconsolable at his\r\nloss, slew herself immediately.\r\n\r\n24. Protesilaus was the husband of Laedamia.  She begged the\r\ngods, after his death, that but three hours\u2019 converse with him\r\nmight be allowed her; the request was granted; and when her\r\ndead husband, at the expiry of the time, returned to the world of\r\nshades, she bore him company.\r\n\r\n25. The daughter of Cato of Utica, Porcia married Marcus\r\nBrutus, the friend and the assassin of Julius Caesar; when her\r\nhusband died by his own hand after the battle of Philippi, she\r\ncommitted suicide, it is said, by swallowing live coals \u2014 all\r\nother means having been removed by her friends.\r\n\r\n26. Artemisia, Queen of Caria, who built to her husband\r\nMausolus, the splendid monument which was accounted among\r\nthe wonders of the world; and who mingled her husband\u2019s ashes\r\nwith her daily drink. \u201cBarbarie\u201d is used in the Greek sense, to\r\ndesignate the non-Hellenic peoples of Asia.\r\n\r\n27. Teuta:  Queen of Illyria, who, after her husband\u2019s death,\r\nmade war on and was conquered by the Romans, B.C 228.\r\n\r\n28. At this point, in some manuscripts, occur thefollowing two\r\nlines: \u2014\r\n\u201cThe same thing I say of Bilia,\r\nOf Rhodegone and of Valeria.\u201d\r\n\r\n29. Bound:  prepared; going. To \u201cboun\u201d or \u201cbown\u201d is a good\r\nold word, whence comes our word \u201cbound,\u201d in the sense of \u201con\r\nthe way.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. That from his lust yet were him lever abide: He would\r\nrather do without his pleasure.\r\n\r\n31. Such apparence: such an ocular deception, or apparition \u2014\r\nmore properly, disappearance \u2014 as the removal of the rocks.\r\n\r\n32. The same question is stated a the end of Boccaccio\u2019s version\r\nof the story in the \u201cPhilocopo,\u201d where the queen determines in\r\nfavour of Aviragus. The question is evidently one of those\r\nwhich it was the fashion to propose for debate in the mediaeval\r\n\u201ccourts of love.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE DOCTOR\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE. <1>\r\n\r\n[\u201cYEA, let that passe,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201cas now.\r\nSir Doctor of Physik, I praye you,\r\nTell us a tale of some honest mattere.\u201d\r\n\u201cIt shall be done, if that ye will it hear,\u201d\r\nSaid this Doctor; and his tale gan anon.\r\n\u201cNow, good men,\u201d quoth he, \u201chearken everyone.\u201d]\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Doctor\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The authenticity of the prologue is questionable. It is found in\r\none manuscript only; other manuscripts give other prologues,\r\nmore plainly not Chaucer\u2019s than this; and some manuscripts\r\nhave merely a colophon to the effect that \u201cHere endeth the\r\nFranklin\u2019s Tale and beginneth the Physician\u2019s Tale without a\r\nprologue.\u201d The Tale itself is the well-known story of Virginia,\r\nwith several departures from the text of Livy. Chaucer probably\r\nfollowed the \u201cRomance of the Rose\u201d and Gower\u2019s \u201cConfessio\r\nAmantis,\u201d in both of which the story is found.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.\r\n\r\nThere was, as telleth Titus Livius, <1>\r\nA knight, that called was Virginius,\r\nFull filled of honour and worthiness,\r\nAnd strong of friendes, and of great richess.\r\nThis knight one daughter hadde by his wife;\r\nNo children had he more in all his life.\r\nFair was this maid in excellent beauty\r\nAboven ev\u2019ry wight that man may see:\r\nFor nature had with sov\u2019reign diligence\r\nY-formed her in so great excellence,\r\nAs though she woulde say, \u201cLo, I, Nature,\r\nThus can I form and paint a creature,\r\nWhen that me list; who can me counterfeit?\r\nPygmalion? not though he aye forge and beat,\r\nOr grave or painte: for I dare well sayn,\r\nApelles, Zeuxis, shoulde work in vain,\r\nEither to grave, or paint, or forge, or beat,\r\nIf they presumed me to counterfeit.\r\nFor he that is the former principal,\r\nHath made me his vicar-general\r\nTo form and painten earthly creatures\r\nRight as me list, and all thing in my cure* is,                    *care\r\nUnder the moone, that may wane and wax.\r\nAnd for my work right nothing will I ax*                            *ask\r\nMy lord and I be full of one accord.\r\nI made her to the worship* of my lord;\r\nSo do I all mine other creatures,\r\nWhat colour that they have, or what figures.\u201d\r\nThus seemeth me that Nature woulde say.\r\n\r\nThis maiden was of age twelve year and tway,*                       *two\r\nIn which that Nature hadde such delight.\r\nFor right as she can paint a lily white,\r\nAnd red a rose, right with such painture\r\nShe painted had this noble creature,\r\nEre she was born, upon her limbes free,\r\nWhere as by right such colours shoulde be:\r\nAnd Phoebus dyed had her tresses great,\r\nLike to the streames* of his burned heat.                   *beams, rays\r\nAnd if that excellent was her beauty,\r\nA thousand-fold more virtuous was she.\r\nIn her there lacked no condition,\r\nThat is to praise, as by discretion.\r\nAs well in ghost* as body chaste was she:                  *mind, spirit\r\nFor which she flower\u2019d in virginity,\r\nWith all humility and abstinence,\r\nWith alle temperance and patience,\r\nWith measure* eke of bearing and array.                      *moderation\r\nDiscreet she was in answering alway,\r\nThough she were wise as Pallas, dare I sayn;\r\nHer faconde* eke full womanly and plain,                     *speech <2>\r\nNo counterfeited termes hadde she\r\nTo seeme wise; but after her degree\r\nShe spake, and all her worde\u2019s more and less\r\nSounding in virtue and in gentleness.\r\nShamefast she was in maiden\u2019s shamefastness,\r\nConstant in heart, and ever *in business*              *diligent, eager*\r\nTo drive her out of idle sluggardy:\r\nBacchus had of her mouth right no mast\u2019ry.\r\nFor wine and slothe <3> do Venus increase,\r\nAs men in fire will casten oil and grease.\r\nAnd of her owen virtue, unconstrain\u2019d,\r\nShe had herself full often sick y-feign\u2019d,\r\nFor that she woulde flee the company,\r\nWhere likely was to treaten of folly,\r\nAs is at feasts, at revels, and at dances,\r\nThat be occasions of dalliances.\r\nSuch thinges make children for to be\r\nToo soone ripe and bold, as men may see,\r\nWhich is full perilous, and hath been yore;*                     *of old\r\nFor all too soone may she learne lore\r\nOf boldeness, when that she is a wife.\r\n\r\nAnd ye mistresses,* in your olde life              *governesses, duennas\r\nThat lordes\u2019 daughters have in governance,\r\nTake not of my wordes displeasance\r\nThinke that ye be set in governings\r\nOf lordes\u2019 daughters only for two things;\r\nEither for ye have kept your honesty,\r\nOr else for ye have fallen in frailty\r\nAnd knowe well enough the olde dance,\r\nAnd have forsaken fully such meschance*                  *wickedness <4>\r\nFor evermore; therefore, for Christe\u2019s sake,\r\nTo teach them virtue look that ye not slake.*            *be slack, fail\r\nA thief of venison, that hath forlaft*                   *forsaken, left\r\nHis lik\u2019rousness,* and all his olde craft,                     *gluttony\r\nCan keep a forest best of any man;\r\nNow keep them well, for if ye will ye can.\r\nLook well, that ye unto no vice assent,\r\nLest ye be damned for your wick\u2019*  intent,                 *wicked, evil\r\nFor whoso doth, a traitor is certain;\r\nAnd take keep* of that I shall you sayn;                           *heed\r\nOf alle treason, sov\u2019reign pestilence\r\nIs when a wight betrayeth innocence.\r\nYe fathers, and ye mothers eke also,\r\nThough ye have children, be it one or mo\u2019,\r\nYours is the charge of all their surveyance,*               *supervision\r\nWhile that they be under your governance.\r\nBeware, that by example of your living,\r\nOr by your negligence in chastising,\r\nThat they not perish for I dare well say,\r\nIf that they do, ye shall it dear abeye.*           *pay for, suffer for\r\nUnder a shepherd soft and negligent\r\nThe wolf hath many a sheep and lamb to-rent.\r\nSuffice this example now as here,\r\nFor I must turn again to my mattere.\r\n\r\nThis maid, of which I tell my tale express,\r\nShe kept herself, her needed no mistress;\r\nFor in her living maidens mighte read,\r\nAs in a book, ev\u2019ry good word and deed\r\nThat longeth to a maiden virtuous;\r\nShe was so prudent and so bounteous.\r\nFor which the fame out sprang on every side\r\nBoth of her beauty and her bounte* wide:                       *goodness\r\nThat through the land they praised her each one\r\nThat loved virtue, save envy alone,\r\nThat sorry is of other manne\u2019s weal,\r\nAnd glad is of his sorrow and unheal* \u2014                     *misfortune\r\nThe Doctor maketh this descriptioun. \u2014 <5>\r\nThis maiden on a day went in the town\r\nToward a temple, with her mother dear,\r\nAs is of younge maidens the mannere.\r\nNow was there then a justice in that town,\r\nThat governor was of that regioun:\r\nAnd so befell, this judge his eyen cast\r\nUpon this maid, avising* her full fast,                       *observing\r\nAs she came forth by where this judge stood;\r\nAnon his hearte changed and his mood,\r\nSo was he caught with beauty of this maid\r\nAnd to himself full privily he said,\r\n\u201cThis maiden shall be mine *for any man.\u201d*             *despite what any\r\nAnon the fiend into his hearte ran,                          man may do*\r\nAnd taught him suddenly, that he by sleight\r\nThis maiden to his purpose winne might.\r\nFor certes, by no force, nor by no meed,*                 *bribe, reward\r\nHim thought he was not able for to speed;\r\nFor she was strong of friendes, and eke she\r\nConfirmed was in such sov\u2019reign bounte,\r\nThat well he wist he might her never win,\r\nAs for to make her with her body sin.\r\nFor which, with great deliberatioun,\r\nHe sent after a clerk <6>  was in the town,\r\nThe which he knew for subtle and for bold.\r\nThis judge unto this clerk his tale told\r\nIn secret wise, and made him to assure\r\nHe shoulde tell it to no creature,\r\nAnd if he did, he shoulde lose his head.\r\nAnd when assented was this cursed rede,*                  *counsel, plot\r\nGlad was the judge, and made him greate cheer,\r\nAnd gave him giftes precious and dear.\r\nWhen shapen* was all their conspiracy                          *arranged\r\nFrom point to point, how that his lechery\r\nPerformed shoulde be full subtilly,\r\nAs ye shall hear it after openly,\r\nHome went this clerk, that highte Claudius.\r\nThis false judge, that highte Appius, \u2014\r\n(So was his name, for it is no fable,\r\nBut knowen for a storial*  thing notable;         *historical, authentic\r\nThe sentence* of it sooth** is out of doubt); \u2014         *account **true\r\nThis false judge went now fast about\r\nTo hasten his delight all that he may.\r\nAnd so befell, soon after on a day,\r\nThis false judge, as telleth us the story,\r\nAs he was wont, sat in his consistory,\r\nAnd gave his doomes* upon sundry case\u2019;                       *judgments\r\nThis false clerk came forth *a full great pace,*               *in haste\r\nAnd saide; Lord, if that it be your will,\r\nAs do me right upon this piteous bill,*                        *petition\r\nIn which I plain upon Virginius.\r\nAnd if that he will say it is not thus,\r\nI will it prove, and finde good witness,\r\nThat sooth is what my bille will express.\u201d\r\nThe judge answer\u2019d, \u201cOf this, in his absence,\r\nI may not give definitive sentence.\r\nLet do* him call, and I will gladly hear;                         *cause\r\nThou shalt have alle right, and no wrong here.\u201d\r\nVirginius came to weet* the judge\u2019s will,                   *know, learn\r\nAnd right anon was read this cursed bill;\r\nThe sentence of it was as ye shall hear\r\n\u201cTo you, my lord, Sir Appius so clear,\r\nSheweth your poore servant Claudius,\r\nHow that a knight called Virginius,\r\nAgainst the law, against all equity,\r\nHoldeth, express against the will of me,\r\nMy servant, which that is my thrall* by right,                    *slave\r\nWhich from my house was stolen on a night,\r\nWhile that she was full young; I will it preve*                   *prove\r\nBy witness, lord, so that it you *not grieve;*      *be not displeasing*\r\nShe is his daughter not, what so he say.\r\nWherefore to you, my lord the judge, I pray,\r\nYield me my thrall, if that it be your will.\u201d\r\nLo, this was all the sentence of the bill.\r\nVirginius gan upon the clerk behold;\r\nBut hastily, ere he his tale told,\r\nAnd would have proved it, as should a knight,\r\nAnd eke by witnessing of many a wight,\r\nThat all was false that said his adversary,\r\nThis cursed judge would no longer tarry,\r\nNor hear a word more of Virginius,\r\nBut gave his judgement, and saide thus:\r\n\u201cI deem* anon this clerk his servant have;         *pronounce, determine\r\nThou shalt no longer in thy house her save.\r\nGo, bring her forth, and put her in our ward\r\nThe clerk shall have his thrall: thus I award.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd when this worthy knight, Virginius,\r\nThrough sentence of this justice Appius,\r\nMuste by force his deare daughter give\r\nUnto the judge, in lechery to live,\r\nHe went him home, and sat him in his hall,\r\nAnd let anon his deare daughter call;\r\nAnd with a face dead as ashes cold\r\nUpon her humble face he gan behold,\r\nWith father\u2019s pity sticking* through his heart,                *piercing\r\nAll* would he from his purpose not convert.**     *although **turn aside\r\n\u201cDaughter,\u201d quoth he, \u201cVirginia by name,\r\nThere be two wayes, either death or shame,\r\nThat thou must suffer, \u2014 alas that I was bore!*                   *born\r\nFor never thou deservedest wherefore\r\nTo dien with a sword or with a knife,\r\nO deare daughter, ender of my life,\r\nWhom I have foster\u2019d up with such pleasance\r\nThat thou were ne\u2019er out of my remembrance;\r\nO daughter, which that art my laste woe,\r\nAnd in this life my laste joy also,\r\nO gem of chastity, in patience\r\nTake thou thy death, for this is my sentence:\r\nFor love and not for hate thou must be dead;\r\nMy piteous hand must smiten off thine head.\r\nAlas, that ever Appius thee say!*                                   *saw\r\nThus hath he falsely judged thee to-day.\u201d\r\nAnd told her all the case, as ye before\r\nHave heard; it needeth not to tell it more.\r\n\r\n\u201cO mercy, deare father,\u201d quoth the maid.\r\nAnd with that word she both her armes laid\r\nAbout his neck, as she was wont to do,\r\n(The teares burst out of her eyen two),\r\nAnd said, \u201cO goode father, shall I die?\r\nIs there no grace? is there no remedy?\u201d\r\n\u201cNo, certes, deare daughter mine,\u201d quoth he.\r\n\u201cThen give me leisure, father mine, quoth she,\r\n\u201cMy death for to complain* a little space                        *bewail\r\nFor, pardie, Jephthah gave his daughter grace\r\nFor to complain, ere he her slew, alas! <7>\r\nAnd, God it wot, nothing was her trespass,*                     *offence\r\nBut for she ran her father first to see,\r\nTo welcome him with great solemnity.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word she fell a-swoon anon;\r\nAnd after, when her swooning was y-gone,\r\nShe rose up, and unto her father said:\r\n\u201cBlessed be God, that I shall die a maid.\r\nGive me my death, ere that I have shame;\r\nDo with your child your will, in Godde\u2019s name.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word she prayed him full oft\r\nThat with his sword he woulde smite her soft;\r\nAnd with that word, a-swoon again she fell.\r\nHer father, with full sorrowful heart and fell,*           *stern, cruel\r\nHer head off smote, and by the top it hent,*                       *took\r\nAnd to the judge he went it to present,\r\nAs he sat yet in doom* in consistory.                          *judgment\r\n\r\nAnd when the judge it saw, as saith the story,\r\nHe bade to take him, and to hang him fast.\r\nBut right anon a thousand people *in thrast*                 *rushed in*\r\nTo save the knight, for ruth and for pity\r\nFor knowen was the false iniquity.\r\nThe people anon had suspect* in this thing,                   *suspicion\r\nBy manner of the clerke\u2019s challenging,\r\nThat it was by th\u2019assent of Appius;\r\nThey wiste well that he was lecherous.\r\nFor which unto this Appius they gon,\r\nAnd cast him in a prison right anon,\r\nWhere as he slew himself: and Claudius,\r\nThat servant was unto this Appius,\r\nWas doomed for to hang upon a tree;\r\nBut that Virginius, of his pity,\r\nSo prayed for him, that he was exil\u2019d;\r\nAnd elles certes had he been beguil\u2019d;*                    *see note <8>\r\nThe remenant were hanged, more and less,\r\nThat were consenting to this cursedness.*                      *villainy\r\nHere men may see how sin hath his merite:*                      *deserts\r\nBeware, for no man knows how God will smite\r\nIn no degree, nor in which manner wise\r\nThe worm of conscience may agrise*                     frighten, horrify\r\nOf  wicked life, though it so privy be,\r\nThat no man knows thereof, save God and he;\r\nFor be he lewed* man or elles lear\u2019d,**              *ignorant **learned\r\nHe knows not how soon he shall be afear\u2019d;\r\nTherefore I rede* you this counsel take,                         *advise\r\nForsake sin, ere sinne you forsake.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Doctor\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Livy, Book iii. cap. 44, et seqq.\r\n\r\n2. Faconde: utterance, speech; from Latin, \u201cfacundia,\u201d\r\neloquence.\r\n\r\n3. Slothe: other readings are \u201cthought\u201d and \u201cyouth.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. Meschance: wickedness; French, \u201cmechancete.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. This line seems to be a kind of aside thrown in by Chaucer\r\nhimself.\r\n\r\n6. The various readings of this word are \u201cchurl,\u201d or \u201ccherl,\u201d in\r\nthe best manuscripts; \u201cclient\u201d in the common editions, and\r\n\u201cclerk\u201d supported by two important manuscripts. \u201cClient\u201d\r\nwould perhaps be the best reading, if it were not awkward for\r\nthe metre; but between \u201cchurl\u201d and \u201cclerk\u201d there can be little\r\ndoubt that Mr Wright chose wisely when he preferred the\r\nsecond.\r\n\r\n7. Judges xi. 37, 38.  \u201cAnd she said unto her father,\r\nLet .  . . me alone two months, that I may go up and down upon\r\nthe mountains, and bewail my virginity, I and my fellows.  And\r\nhe said, go.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Beguiled: \u201ccast into gaol,\u201d according to Urry\u2019s explanation;\r\nthough we should probably understand that, if Claudius had not\r\nbeen sent out of the country, his death would have been secretly\r\ncontrived through private detestation.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PARDONER\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nOUR Hoste gan to swear as he were wood;\r\n\u201cHarow!\u201d quoth he, \u201cby nailes and by blood, <1>\r\nThis was a cursed thief, a false justice.\r\nAs shameful death as hearte can devise\r\nCome to these judges and their advoca\u2019s.*        *advocates, counsellors\r\nAlgate* this sely** maid is slain, alas!        *nevertheless **innocent\r\nAlas! too deare bought she her beauty.\r\nWherefore I say, that all day man may see\r\nThat giftes of fortune and of nature\r\nBe cause of death to many a creature.\r\nHer beauty was her death, I dare well sayn;\r\nAlas! so piteously as she was slain.\r\n[Of bothe giftes, that I speak of now\r\nMen have full often more harm than prow,*]                       *profit\r\nBut truely, mine owen master dear,\r\nThis was a piteous tale for to hear;\r\nBut natheless, pass over; \u2019tis *no force.*                   *no matter*\r\nI pray to God to save thy gentle corse,*                           *body\r\nAnd eke thine urinals, and thy jordans,\r\nThine Hippocras, and eke thy Galliens, <2>\r\nAnd every boist* full of thy lectuary,                          *box <3>\r\nGod bless them, and our lady Sainte Mary.\r\nSo may I the\u2019,* thou art a proper man,                           *thrive\r\nAnd like a prelate, by Saint Ronian;\r\nSaid I not well? Can I not speak *in term?*                *in set form*\r\nBut well I wot thou dost* mine heart to erme,**      *makest **grieve<4>\r\nThat I have almost caught a cardiacle:*                   *heartache <5>\r\nBy corpus Domini <6>, but* I have triacle,**          *unless **a remedy\r\nOr else a draught of moist and corny <7> ale,\r\nOr but* I hear anon a merry tale,                                *unless\r\nMine heart is brost* for pity of this maid.               *burst, broken\r\nThou *bel ami,*  thou Pardoner,\u201d he said,                  *good friend*\r\n\u201cTell us some mirth of japes* right anon.\u201d                        *jokes\r\n\u201cIt shall be done,\u201d quoth he, \u201cby Saint Ronion.\r\nBut first,\u201d quoth he, \u201chere at this ale-stake*       *ale-house sign <8>\r\nI will both drink, and biten on a cake.\u201d\r\nBut right anon the gentles gan to cry,\r\n\u201cNay, let him tell us of no ribaldry.\r\nTell us some moral thing, that we may lear*                       *learn\r\nSome wit,* and thenne will we gladly hear.\u201d               *wisdom, sense\r\n\u201cI grant y-wis,\u201d* quoth he; \u201cbut I must think                    *surely\r\nUpon some honest thing while that I drink.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Pardoner\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The nails and blood of Christ, by which it was then a fashion\r\nto swear.\r\n\r\n2. Mediaeval medical writers; see note 36 to the Prologue to the\r\nTales.\r\n\r\n3. Boist: box; French  \u201cboite,\u201d old form \u201cboiste.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. Erme: grieve; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cearme,\u201d wretched.\r\n\r\n5. Cardiacle:  heartache; from Greek, \u201ckardialgia.\u201d\r\n\r\n6. Corpus Domini: God\u2019s body.\r\n\r\n7. Corny ale:  New and strong, nappy. As to \u201cmoist,\u201d see note\r\n39 to the Prologue to the Tales.\r\n\r\n8. (Transcriber\u2019s Note)In this scene the pilgrims are refreshing\r\nthemselves at tables in front of an inn.  The pardoner is drunk,\r\nwhich explains his boastful and revealing confession of his\r\ndeceits.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE <1>\r\n\r\nLordings (quoth he), in churche when I preach,\r\nI paine me to have an hautein* speech,            *take pains **loud <2>\r\nAnd ring it out, as round as doth a bell,\r\nFor I know all by rote that I tell.\r\nMy theme is always one, and ever was;\r\nRadix malorum est cupiditas.<3>\r\nFirst I pronounce whence that I come,\r\nAnd then my bulles shew I all and some;\r\nOur liege lorde\u2019s seal on my patent,\r\nThat shew I first, *my body to warrent,*             *for the protection\r\nThat no man be so hardy, priest nor clerk,                 of my person*\r\nMe to disturb of Christe\u2019s holy werk.\r\nAnd after that then tell I forth my tales.\r\nBulles of popes, and of cardinales,\r\nOf patriarchs, and of bishops I shew,\r\nAnd in Latin I speak a wordes few,\r\nTo savour with my predication,\r\nAnd for to stir men to devotion\r\nThen show I forth my longe crystal stones,\r\nY-crammed fall of cloutes* and of bones;                *rags, fragments\r\nRelics they be, as *weene they* each one.        *as my listeners think*\r\nThen have I in latoun* a shoulder-bone                            *brass\r\nWhich that was of a holy Jewe\u2019s sheep.\r\n\u201cGood men,\u201d say I, \u201ctake of my wordes keep;*                       *heed\r\nIf that this bone be wash\u2019d in any well,\r\nIf cow, or calf, or sheep, or oxe swell,\r\nThat any worm hath eat, or worm y-stung,\r\nTake water of that well, and wash his tongue,\r\nAnd it is whole anon; and farthermore\r\nOf pockes, and of scab, and every sore\r\nShall every sheep be whole, that of this well\r\nDrinketh a draught; take keep* of that I tell.                     *heed\r\n\r\n\u201cIf that the goodman, that the beastes oweth,*                   *owneth\r\nWill every week, ere that the cock him croweth,\r\nFasting, y-drinken of this well a draught,\r\nAs thilke holy Jew our elders taught,\r\nHis beastes and his store shall multiply.\r\nAnd, Sirs, also it healeth jealousy;\r\nFor though a man be fall\u2019n in jealous rage,\r\nLet make with this water his pottage,\r\nAnd never shall he more his wife mistrist,*                    *mistrust\r\n*Though he the sooth of her defaulte wist;*             *though he truly\r\nAll had she taken priestes two or three. <4>               knew her sin*\r\nHere is a mittain* eke, that ye may see;                  *glove, mitten\r\nHe that his hand will put in this mittain,\r\nHe shall have multiplying of his grain,\r\nWhen he hath sowen, be it wheat or oats,\r\nSo that he offer pence, or elles groats.\r\nAnd, men and women, one thing warn I you;\r\nIf any wight be in this churche now\r\nThat hath done sin horrible, so that he\r\nDare not for shame of it y-shriven* be;                       *confessed\r\nOr any woman, be she young or old,\r\nThat hath y-made her husband cokewold,*                         *cuckold\r\nSuch folk shall have no power nor no grace\r\nTo offer to my relics in this place.\r\nAnd whoso findeth him out of such blame,\r\nHe will come up and offer in God\u2019s name;\r\nAnd I assoil* him by the authority                              *absolve\r\nWhich that by bull y-granted was to me.\u201d\r\n\r\nBy this gaud* have I wonne year by year                     *jest, trick\r\nA hundred marks, since I was pardonere.\r\nI stande like a clerk in my pulpit,\r\nAnd when the lewed* people down is set,                        *ignorant\r\nI preache so as ye have heard before,\r\nAnd telle them a hundred japes* more.                    *jests, deceits\r\nThen pain I me to stretche forth my neck,\r\nAnd east and west upon the people I beck,\r\nAs doth a dove, sitting on a bern;*                                *barn\r\nMy handes and my tongue go so yern,*                            *briskly\r\nThat it is joy to see my business.\r\nOf avarice and of such cursedness*                           *wickedness\r\nIs all my preaching, for to make them free\r\nTo give their pence, and namely* unto me.                    *especially\r\nFor mine intent is not but for to win,\r\nAnd nothing for correction of sin.\r\nI recke never, when that they be buried,\r\nThough that their soules go a blackburied.<5>\r\nFor certes *many a predication              *preaching is often inspired\r\nCometh oft-time of evil intention;*                     by evil motives*\r\nSome for pleasance of folk, and flattery,\r\nTo be advanced by hypocrisy;\r\nAnd some for vainglory, and some for hate.\r\nFor, when I dare not otherwise debate,\r\nThen will I sting him with my tongue smart*                     *sharply\r\nIn preaching, so that he shall not astart*                       *escape\r\nTo be defamed falsely, if that he\r\nHath trespass\u2019d* to my brethren or to me.                      *offended\r\nFor, though I telle not his proper name,\r\nMen shall well knowe that it is the same\r\nBy signes, and by other circumstances.\r\nThus *quite I* folk that do us displeasances:         *I am revenged on*\r\nThus spit I out my venom, under hue\r\nOf holiness, to seem holy and true.\r\nBut, shortly mine intent I will devise,\r\nI preach of nothing but of covetise.\r\nTherefore my theme is yet, and ever was, \u2014\r\nRadix malorum est cupiditas. <3>\r\nThus can I preach against the same vice\r\nWhich that I use, and that is avarice.\r\nBut though myself be guilty in that sin,\r\nYet can I maken other folk to twin*                              *depart\r\nFrom avarice, and sore them repent.\r\nBut that is not my principal intent;\r\nI preache nothing but for covetise.\r\nOf this mattere it ought enough suffice.\r\nThen tell I them examples many a one,\r\nOf olde stories longe time gone;\r\nFor lewed* people love tales old;                             *unlearned\r\nSuch thinges can they well report and hold.\r\nWhat? trowe ye, that whiles I may preach\r\nAnd winne gold and silver for* I teach,                         *because\r\nThat I will live in povert\u2019 wilfully?\r\nNay, nay, I thought it never truely.\r\nFor I will preach and beg in sundry lands;\r\nI will not do no labour with mine hands,\r\nNor make baskets for to live thereby,\r\nBecause I will not beggen idlely.\r\nI will none of the apostles counterfeit;*          *imitate (in poverty)\r\nI will have money, wool, and cheese, and wheat,\r\nAll* were it given of the poorest page,                         *even if\r\nOr of the pooreste widow in a village:\r\nAll should her children sterve* for famine.                         *die\r\nNay, I will drink the liquor of the vine,\r\nAnd have a jolly wench in every town.\r\nBut hearken, lordings, in conclusioun;\r\nYour liking is, that I shall tell a tale\r\nNow I have drunk a draught of corny ale,\r\nBy God, I hope I shall you tell a thing\r\nThat shall by reason be to your liking;\r\nFor though myself be a full vicious man,\r\nA moral tale yet I you telle can,\r\nWhich I am wont to preache, for to win.\r\nNow hold your peace, my tale I will begin.\r\n\r\nIn Flanders whilom was a company\r\nOf younge folkes, that haunted folly,\r\nAs riot, hazard, stewes,* and taverns;                         *brothels\r\nWhere as with lutes, harpes, and giterns,*                      *guitars\r\nThey dance and play at dice both day and night,\r\nAnd eat also, and drink over their might;\r\nThrough which they do the devil sacrifice\r\nWithin the devil\u2019s temple, in cursed wise,\r\nBy superfluity abominable.\r\nTheir oathes be so great and so damnable,\r\nThat it is grisly* for to hear them swear.                 *dreadful <6>\r\nOur blissful Lorde\u2019s body they to-tear;*             *tore to pieces <7>\r\nThem thought the Jewes rent him not enough,\r\nAnd each of them at other\u2019s sinne lough.*                       *laughed\r\nAnd right anon in come tombesteres <8>\r\nFetis* and small, and younge fruitesteres.**       *dainty **fruit-girls\r\nSingers with harpes, baudes,* waferers,**      *revellers **cake-sellers\r\nWhich be the very devil\u2019s officers,\r\nTo kindle and blow the fire of lechery,\r\nThat is annexed unto gluttony.\r\nThe Holy Writ take I to my witness,\r\nThat luxury is in wine and drunkenness. <9>\r\nLo, how that drunken Lot unkindely*                         *unnaturally\r\nLay by his daughters two unwittingly,\r\nSo drunk he was he knew not what he wrought.\r\nHerodes, who so well the stories sought, <10>\r\nWhen he of wine replete was at his feast,\r\nRight at his owen table gave his hest*                          *command\r\nTo slay the Baptist John full guilteless.\r\nSeneca saith a good word, doubteless:\r\nHe saith he can no difference find\r\nBetwixt a man that is out of his mind,\r\nAnd a man whiche that is drunkelew:*                    *a drunkard <11>\r\nBut that woodness,* y-fallen in a shrew,*   *madness **one evil-tempered\r\nPersevereth longer than drunkenness.\r\n\r\nO gluttony, full of all cursedness;\r\nO cause first of our confusion,\r\nOriginal of our damnation,\r\nTill Christ had bought us with his blood again!\r\nLooke, how deare, shortly for to sayn,\r\nAbought* was first this cursed villainy:                     *atoned for\r\nCorrupt was all this world for gluttony.\r\nAdam our father, and his wife also,\r\nFrom Paradise, to labour and to woe,\r\nWere driven for that vice, it is no dread.*                       *doubt\r\nFor while that Adam fasted, as I read,\r\nHe was in Paradise; and when that he\r\nAte of the fruit defended* of the tree,                  *forbidden <12>\r\nAnon he was cast out to woe and pain.\r\nO gluttony! well ought us on thee plain.\r\nOh! wist a man how many maladies\r\nFollow of excess and of gluttonies,\r\nHe woulde be the more measurable*                              *moderate\r\nOf his diete, sitting at his table.\r\nAlas! the shorte throat, the tender mouth,\r\nMaketh that east and west, and north and south,\r\nIn earth, in air, in water, men do swink*                        *labour\r\nTo get a glutton dainty meat and drink.\r\nOf this mattere, O Paul! well canst thou treat\r\nMeat unto womb,* and womb eke unto meat,                          *belly\r\nShall God destroye both, as Paulus saith. <13>\r\nAlas! a foul thing is it, by my faith,\r\nTo say this word, and fouler is the deed,\r\nWhen man so drinketh of the *white and red,*                 *i.e. wine*\r\nThat of his throat he maketh his privy\r\nThrough thilke cursed superfluity\r\nThe apostle saith, <14> weeping full piteously,\r\nThere walk many, of which you told have I, \u2014\r\nI say it now weeping with piteous voice, \u2014\r\nThat they be enemies of Christe\u2019s crois;*                         *cross\r\nOf which the end is death; womb* is their God.                    *belly\r\nO womb, O belly, stinking is thy cod,*                         *bag <15>\r\nFull fill\u2019d of dung and of corruptioun;\r\nAt either end of thee foul is the soun.\r\nHow great labour and cost is thee to find!*                      *supply\r\nThese cookes how they stamp, and strain, and grind,\r\nAnd turne substance into accident,\r\nTo fulfill all thy likerous talent!\r\nOut of the harde bones knocke they\r\nThe marrow, for they caste naught away\r\nThat may go through the gullet soft and swoot*                    *sweet\r\nOf spicery and leaves, of bark and root,\r\nShall be his sauce y-maked by delight,\r\nTo make him have a newer appetite.\r\nBut, certes, he that haunteth such delices\r\nIs dead while that he liveth in those vices.\r\n\r\nA lecherous thing is wine, and drunkenness\r\nIs full of striving and of wretchedness.\r\nO drunken man! disfgur\u2019d is thy face,<16>\r\nSour is thy breath, foul art thou to embrace:\r\nAnd through thy drunken nose sowneth the soun\u2019,\r\nAs though thous saidest aye, Samsoun! Samsoun!\r\nAnd yet, God wot, Samson drank never wine.\r\nThou fallest as it were a sticked swine;\r\nThy tongue is lost, and all thine honest cure;*                    *care\r\nFor drunkenness is very sepulture*                                 *tomb\r\nOf manne\u2019s wit and his discretion.\r\nIn whom that drink hath domination,\r\nHe can no counsel keep, it is no dread.*                          *doubt\r\nNow keep you from the white and from the red,\r\nAnd namely* from the white wine of Lepe,<17>                 *especially\r\nThat is to sell in Fish Street <18> and in Cheap.\r\nThis wine of Spaine creepeth subtilly  \u2014\r\nIn other wines growing faste by,\r\nOf which there riseth such fumosity,\r\nThat when a man hath drunken draughtes three,\r\nAnd weeneth that he be at home in Cheap,\r\nHe is in Spain, right at the town of Lepe,\r\nNot at the Rochelle, nor at Bourdeaux town;\r\nAnd thenne will he say, Samsoun! Samsoun!\r\nBut hearken, lordings, one word, I you pray,\r\nThat all the sovreign actes, dare I say,\r\nOf victories in the Old Testament,\r\nThrough very God that is omnipotent,\r\nWere done in abstinence and in prayere:\r\nLook in the Bible, and there ye may it lear.*                     *learn\r\nLook, Attila, the greate conqueror,\r\nDied in his sleep, <19> with shame and dishonour,\r\nBleeding aye at his nose in drunkenness:\r\nA captain should aye live in soberness\r\nAnd o\u2019er all this, advise* you right well             *consider, bethink\r\nWhat was commanded unto Lemuel; <20>\r\nNot Samuel, but Lemuel, say I.\r\nReade the Bible, and find it expressly\r\nOf wine giving to them that have justice.\r\nNo more of this, for it may well suffice.\r\n\r\nAnd, now that I have spoke of gluttony,\r\nNow will I you *defende hazardry.*                     *forbid gambling*\r\nHazard is very mother of leasings,*                                *lies\r\nAnd of deceit, and cursed forswearings:\r\nBlasphem\u2019 of Christ, manslaughter, and waste also\r\nOf chattel* and of time; and furthermo\u2019                        *property\r\nIt is repreve,* and contrar\u2019 of honour,                        *reproach\r\nFor to be held a common hazardour.\r\nAnd ever the higher he is of estate,\r\nThe more he is holden desolate.*                      *undone, worthless\r\nIf that a prince use hazardry,\r\nIn alle governance and policy\r\nHe is, as by common opinion,\r\nY-hold the less in reputation.\r\n\r\nChilon, that was a wise ambassador,\r\nWas sent to Corinth with full great honor\r\nFrom Lacedemon, <21> to make alliance;\r\nAnd when he came, it happen\u2019d him, by chance,\r\nThat all the greatest that were of that land,\r\nY-playing atte hazard he them fand.*                              *found\r\nFor which, as soon as that it mighte be,\r\nHe stole him home again to his country\r\nAnd saide there, \u201cI will not lose my name,\r\nNor will I take on me so great diffame,*                       *reproach\r\nYou to ally unto no hazardors.*                                *gamblers\r\nSende some other wise ambassadors,\r\nFor, by my troth, me were lever* die,                            *rather\r\nThan I should you to hazardors ally.\r\nFor ye, that be so glorious in honours,\r\nShall not ally you to no hazardours,\r\nAs by my will, nor as by my treaty.\u201d\r\nThis wise philosopher thus said he.\r\nLook eke how to the King Demetrius\r\nThe King of Parthes, as the book saith us,\r\nSent him a pair of dice of gold in scorn,\r\nFor he had used hazard therebeforn:\r\nFor which he held his glory and renown\r\nAt no value or reputatioun.\r\nLordes may finden other manner play\r\nHonest enough to drive the day away.\r\n\r\nNow will I speak of oathes false and great\r\nA word or two, as olde bookes treat.\r\nGreat swearing is a thing abominable,\r\nAnd false swearing is more reprovable.\r\nThe highe God forbade swearing at all;\r\nWitness on Matthew: <22> but in special\r\nOf swearing saith the holy Jeremie, <23>\r\nThou thalt swear sooth thine oathes, and not lie:\r\nAnd swear in doom* and eke in righteousness;                  *judgement\r\nBut idle swearing is a cursedness.*                          *wickedness\r\nBehold and see, there in the firste table\r\nOf highe Godde\u2019s hestes* honourable,                       *commandments\r\nHow that the second best of him is this,\r\nTake not my name in idle* or amiss.                             *in vain\r\nLo, rather* he forbiddeth such swearing,                         *sooner\r\nThan homicide, or many a cursed thing;\r\nI say that as by order thus it standeth;\r\nThis knoweth he that his hests* understandeth,             *commandments\r\nHow that the second hest of God is that.\r\nAnd farthermore, I will thee tell all plat,*            *flatly, plainly\r\nThat vengeance shall not parte from his house,\r\nThat of his oathes is outrageous.\r\n\u201cBy Godde\u2019s precious heart, and by his nails, <24>\r\nAnd by the blood of Christ, that is in Hailes, <25>\r\nSeven is my chance, and thine is cinque and trey:\r\nBy Godde\u2019s armes, if thou falsely play,\r\nThis dagger shall throughout thine hearte go.\u201d\r\nThis fruit comes of the *bicched bones two,*   *two cursed bones (dice)*\r\nForswearing, ire, falseness, and homicide.\r\nNow, for the love of Christ that for us died,\r\nLeave your oathes, bothe great and smale.\r\nBut, Sirs, now will I ell you forth my tale.\r\n\r\nThese riotoures three, of which I tell,\r\nLong *erst than* prime rang of any bell,                         *before\r\nWere set them in a tavern for to drink;\r\nAnd as they sat, they heard a belle clink\r\nBefore a corpse, was carried to the grave.\r\nThat one of them gan calle to his knave,*                       *servant\r\n\u201cGo bet,\u201d <26> quoth he, \u201cand aske readily\r\nWhat corpse is this, that passeth here forth by;\r\nAnd look that thou report his name well.\u201d\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth the boy, \u201cit needeth never a deal;*                   *whit\r\nIt was me told ere ye came here two hours;\r\nHe was, pardie, an old fellow of yours,\r\nAnd suddenly he was y-slain to-night;\r\nFordrunk* as he sat on his bench upright,              *completely drunk\r\nThere came a privy thief, men clepe Death,\r\nThat in this country all the people slay\u2019th,\r\nAnd with his spear he smote his heart in two,\r\nAnd went his way withoute wordes mo\u2019.\r\nHe hath a thousand slain this pestilence;\r\nAnd, master, ere you come in his presence,\r\nMe thinketh that it were full necessary\r\nFor to beware of such an adversary;\r\nBe ready for to meet him evermore.\r\nThus taughte me my dame; I say no more.\u201d\r\n\u201cBy Sainte Mary,\u201d said the tavernere,\r\n\u201cThe child saith sooth, for he hath slain this year,\r\nHence ov\u2019r a mile, within a great village,\r\nBoth man and woman, child, and hind, and page;\r\nI trow his habitation be there;\r\nTo be advised* great wisdom it were,           *watchful, on one\u2019s guard\r\nEre* that he did a man a dishonour.\u201d                               *lest\r\n\r\n\u201cYea, Godde\u2019s armes,\u201d quoth this riotour,\r\n\u201cIs it such peril with him for to meet?\r\nI shall him seek, by stile and eke by street.\r\nI make a vow, by Godde\u2019s digne* bones.\u201d                          *worthy\r\nHearken, fellows, we three be alle ones:*                        *at one\r\nLet each of us hold up his hand to other,\r\nAnd each of us become the other\u2019s brother,\r\nAnd we will slay this false traitor Death;\r\nHe shall be slain, he that so many slay\u2019th,\r\nBy Godde\u2019s dignity, ere it be night.\u201d\r\nTogether have these three their trothe plight\r\nTo live and die each one of them for other\r\nAs though he were his owen sworen brother.\r\nAnd up they start, all drunken, in this rage,\r\nAnd forth they go towardes that village\r\nOf which the taverner had spoke beforn,\r\nAnd many a grisly* oathe have they sworn,                      *dreadful\r\nAnd Christe\u2019s blessed body they to-rent;*            *tore to pieces <7>\r\n\u201cDeath shall be dead, if that we may him hent.\u201d*                  *catch\r\nWhen they had gone not fully half a mile,\r\nRight as they would have trodden o\u2019er a stile,\r\nAn old man and a poore with them met.\r\nThis olde man full meekely them gret,*                          *greeted\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cNow, lordes, God you see!\u201d*         *look on graciously\r\nThe proudest of these riotoures three\r\nAnswer\u2019d again; \u201cWhat? churl, with sorry grace,\r\nWhy art thou all forwrapped* save thy face?            *closely wrapt up\r\nWhy livest thou so long in so great age?\u201d\r\nThis olde man gan look on his visage,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cFor that I cannot find\r\nA man, though that I walked unto Ind,\r\nNeither in city, nor in no village go,\r\nThat woulde change his youthe for mine age;\r\nAnd therefore must I have mine age still\r\nAs longe time as it is Godde\u2019s will.\r\nAnd Death, alas! he will not have my life.\r\nThus walk I like a resteless caitife,*                 *miserable wretch\r\nAnd on the ground, which is my mother\u2019s gate,\r\nI knocke with my staff, early and late,\r\nAnd say to her, \u2018Leve* mother, let me in.                          *dear\r\nLo, how I wane, flesh, and blood, and skin;\r\nAlas! when shall my bones be at rest?\r\nMother, with you I woulde change my chest,\r\nThat in my chamber longe time hath be,\r\nYea, for an hairy clout to *wrap in me.\u2019*               *wrap myself in*\r\nBut yet to me she will not do that grace,\r\nFor which fall pale and welked* is my face.                    *withered\r\nBut, Sirs, to you it is no courtesy\r\nTo speak unto an old man villainy,\r\nBut* he trespass in word or else in deed.                        *except\r\nIn Holy Writ ye may yourselves read;\r\n\u2018Against* an old man, hoar upon his head,                       *to meet\r\nYe should arise:\u2019 therefore I you rede,*                         *advise\r\nNe do unto an old man no harm now,\r\nNo more than ye would a man did you\r\nIn age, if that ye may so long abide.\r\nAnd God be with you, whether ye go or ride\r\nI must go thither as I have to go.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNay, olde churl, by God thou shalt not so,\u201d\r\nSaide this other hazardor anon;\r\n\u201cThou partest not so lightly, by Saint John.\r\nThou spakest right now of that traitor Death,\r\nThat in this country all our friendes slay\u2019th;\r\nHave here my troth, as thou art his espy;*                          *spy\r\nTell where he is, or thou shalt it abie,*                    *suffer for\r\nBy God and by the holy sacrament;\r\nFor soothly thou art one of his assent\r\nTo slay us younge folk, thou false thief.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, Sirs,\u201d quoth he, \u201cif it be you so lief*                    *desire\r\nTo finde Death, turn up this crooked way,\r\nFor in that grove I left him, by my fay,\r\nUnder a tree, and there he will abide;\r\nNor for your boast he will him nothing hide.\r\nSee ye that oak? right there ye shall him find.\r\nGod save you, that bought again mankind,\r\nAnd you amend!\u201d Thus said this olde man;\r\nAnd evereach of these riotoures ran,\r\nTill they came to the tree, and there they found\r\nOf florins fine, of gold y-coined round,\r\nWell nigh a seven bushels, as them thought.\r\nNo longer as then after Death they sought;\r\nBut each of them so glad was of the sight,\r\nFor that the florins were so fair and bright,\r\nThat down they sat them by the precious hoard.\r\nThe youngest of them spake the firste word:\r\n\u201cBrethren,\u201d quoth he, \u201c*take keep* what I shall say;              *heed*\r\nMy wit is great, though that I bourde* and play            *joke, frolic\r\nThis treasure hath Fortune unto us given\r\nIn mirth and jollity our life to liven;\r\nAnd lightly as it comes, so will we spend.\r\nHey! Godde\u2019s precious dignity! who wend*                *weened, thought\r\nToday that we should have so fair a grace?\r\nBut might this gold he carried from this place\r\nHome to my house, or elles unto yours\r\n(For well I wot that all this gold is ours),\r\nThen were we in high felicity.\r\nBut truely by day it may not be;\r\nMen woulde say that we were thieves strong,\r\nAnd for our owen treasure do us hong.*                   *have us hanged\r\nThis treasure muste carried be by night,\r\nAs wisely and as slily as it might.\r\nWherefore I rede,* that cut** among us all                *advise **lots\r\nWe draw, and let see where the cut will fall:\r\nAnd he that hath the cut, with hearte blithe\r\nShall run unto the town, and that full swithe,*                 *quickly\r\nAnd bring us bread and wine full privily:\r\nAnd two of us shall keepe subtilly\r\nThis treasure well: and if he will not tarry,\r\nWhen it is night, we will this treasure carry,\r\nBy one assent, where as us thinketh best.\u201d\r\nThen one of them the cut brought in his fist,\r\nAnd bade them draw, and look where it would fall;\r\nAnd it fell on the youngest of them all;\r\nAnd forth toward the town he went anon.\r\nAnd all so soon as  that he was y-gone,\r\nThe one of them spake thus unto the other;\r\n\u201cThou knowest well that thou art my sworn brother,\r\n*Thy profit* will I tell thee right anon.             *what is for thine\r\nThou knowest well that our fellow is gone,                    advantage*\r\nAnd here is gold, and that full great plenty,\r\nThat shall departed* he among us three.                         *divided\r\nBut natheless, if I could shape* it so                         *contrive\r\nThat it departed were among us two,\r\nHad I not done a friende\u2019s turn to thee?\u201d\r\nTh\u2019 other answer\u2019d, \u201cI n\u2019ot* how that may be;                  *know not\r\nHe knows well that the gold is with us tway.\r\nWhat shall we do? what shall we to him say?\u201d\r\n\u201cShall it be counsel?\u201d* said the firste shrew;**        *secret **wretch\r\n\u201cAnd I shall tell to thee in wordes few\r\nWhat we shall do, and bring it well about.\u201d\r\n\u201cI grante,\u201d quoth the other, \u201cout of doubt,\r\nThat by my truth I will thee not bewray.\u201d*                       *betray\r\n\u201cNow,\u201d quoth the first, \u201cthou know\u2019st well we be tway,\r\nAnd two of us shall stronger be than one.\r\nLook; when that he is set,* thou right anon                    *sat down\r\nArise, as though thou wouldest with him play;\r\nAnd I shall rive* him through the sides tway,                      *stab\r\nWhile that thou strugglest with him as in game;\r\nAnd with thy dagger look thou do the same.\r\nAnd then shall all this gold departed* be,                      *divided\r\nMy deare friend, betwixte thee and me:\r\nThen may we both our lustes* all fulfil,                      *pleasures\r\nAnd play at dice right at our owen will.\u201d\r\nAnd thus accorded* be these shrewes** tway            *agreed **wretches\r\nTo slay the third, as ye have heard me say.\r\n\r\nThe youngest, which that wente to the town,\r\nFull oft in heart he rolled up and down\r\nThe beauty of these florins new and bright.\r\n\u201cO Lord!\u201d quoth he, \u201cif so were that I might\r\nHave all this treasure to myself alone,\r\nThere is no man that lives under the throne\r\nOf God, that shoulde have so merry as I.\u201d\r\nAnd at the last the fiend our enemy\r\nPut in his thought, that he should poison buy,\r\nWith which he mighte slay his fellows twy.*                         *two\r\nFor why, the fiend found him *in such living,*           *leading such a\r\nThat he had leave to sorrow him to bring.                    (bad) life*\r\nFor this was utterly his full intent\r\nTo slay them both, and never to repent.\r\nAnd forth he went, no longer would he tarry,\r\nInto the town to an apothecary,\r\nAnd prayed him that he him woulde sell\r\nSome poison, that he might *his rattes quell,*           *kill his rats*\r\nAnd eke there was a polecat in his haw,*          *farm-yard, hedge <27>\r\nThat, as he said, his eapons had y-slaw:*                         *slain\r\nAnd fain he would him wreak,* if that he might,                 *revenge\r\nOf vermin that destroyed him by night.\r\nTh\u2019apothecary answer\u2019d, \u201cThou shalt have\r\nA thing, as wisly* God my soule save,                            *surely\r\nIn all this world there is no creature\r\nThat eat or drank hath of this confecture,\r\nNot but the mountance* of a corn of wheat,                       *amount\r\nThat he shall not his life *anon forlete;*        *immediately lay down*\r\nYea, sterve* he shall, and that in lesse while                      *die\r\nThan thou wilt go *apace* nought but a mile:                   *quickly*\r\nThis poison is so strong and violent.\u201d\r\nThis cursed man hath in his hand y-hent*                          *taken\r\nThis poison in a box, and swift he ran\r\nInto the nexte street, unto a man,\r\nAnd borrow\u2019d of him large bottles three;\r\nAnd in the two the poison poured he;\r\nThe third he kepte clean for his own drink,\r\nFor all the night he shope him* for to swink**        *purposed **labour\r\nIn carrying off the gold out of that place.\r\nAnd when this riotour, with sorry grace,\r\nHad fill\u2019d with wine his greate bottles three,\r\n\r\nTo his fellows again repaired he.\r\nWhat needeth it thereof to sermon* more?                *talk, discourse\r\nFor, right as they had cast* his death before,                  *plotted\r\nRight so they have him slain, and that anon.\r\nAnd when that this was done, thus spake the one;\r\n\u201cNow let us sit and drink, and make us merry,\r\nAnd afterward we will his body bury.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word it happen\u2019d him *par cas*                  *by chance\r\nTo take the bottle where the poison was,\r\nAnd drank, and gave his fellow drink also,\r\nFor which anon they sterved* both the two.                         *died\r\nBut certes I suppose that Avicen\r\nWrote never in no canon, nor no fen, <28>\r\nMore wondrous signes of empoisoning,\r\nThan had these wretches two ere their ending.\r\nThus ended be these homicides two,\r\nAnd eke the false empoisoner also.\r\n\r\nO cursed sin, full of all cursedness!\r\nO trait\u2019rous homicide! O wickedness!\r\nO glutt\u2019ny, luxury, and hazardry!\r\nThou blasphemer of Christ with villany,*               *outrage, impiety\r\nAnd oathes great, of usage and of pride!\r\nAlas! mankinde, how may it betide,\r\nThat to thy Creator, which that thee wrought,\r\nAnd with his precious hearte-blood thee bought,\r\nThou art so false and so unkind,* alas!                       *unnatural\r\nNow, good men, God forgive you your trespass,\r\nAnd ware* you from the sin of avarice.                             *keep\r\nMine holy pardon may you all warice,*                              *heal\r\nSo that ye offer *nobles or sterlings,*           *gold or silver coins*\r\nOr elles silver brooches, spoons, or rings.\r\nBowe your head under this holy bull.\r\nCome up, ye wives, and offer of your will;\r\nYour names I enter in my roll anon;\r\nInto the bliss of heaven shall ye gon;\r\nI you assoil* by mine high powere,                         *absolve <29>\r\nYou that will offer, as clean and eke as clear\r\nAs ye were born. Lo, Sires, thus I preach;\r\nAnd Jesus Christ, that is our soules\u2019 leech,*                    *healer\r\nSo grante you his pardon to receive;\r\nFor that is best, I will not deceive.\r\n\r\nBut, Sirs, one word forgot I in my tale;\r\nI have relics and pardon in my mail,\r\nAs fair as any man in Engleland,\r\nWhich were me given by the Pope\u2019s hand.\r\nIf any of you will of devotion\r\nOffer, and have mine absolution,\r\nCome forth anon, and kneele here adown\r\nAnd meekely receive my pardoun.\r\nOr elles take pardon, as ye wend,*                                   *go\r\nAll new and fresh at every towne\u2019s end,\r\nSo that ye offer, always new and new,\r\nNobles or pence which that be good and true.\r\n\u2019Tis an honour to evereach* that is here,                      *each one\r\nThat ye have a suffisant* pardonere                            *suitable\r\nT\u2019assoile* you in country as ye ride,                           *absolve\r\nFor aventures which that may betide.\r\nParaventure there may fall one or two\r\nDown of his horse, and break his neck in two.\r\nLook, what a surety is it to you all,\r\nThat I am in your fellowship y-fall,\r\nThat may assoil* you bothe *more and lass,*                     *absolve\r\nWhen that the soul shall from the body pass.           *great and small*\r\nI rede* that our Hoste shall begin,                              *advise\r\nFor he is most enveloped in sin.\r\nCome forth, Sir Host, and offer first anon,\r\nAnd thou shalt kiss; the relics every one,\r\nYea, for a groat; unbuckle anon thy purse.\r\n\r\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthen have I Christe\u2019s curse!\r\nLet be,\u201d quoth he, \u201cit shall not be, *so the\u2019ch.*      *so may I thrive*\r\nThou wouldest make me kiss thine olde breech,\r\nAnd swear it were a relic of a saint,\r\nThough it were with thy *fundament depaint\u2019.*   *stained by your bottom*\r\nBut, by the cross which that Saint Helen fand,*              *found <30>\r\nI would I had thy coilons* in mine hand,                      *testicles\r\nInstead of relics, or of sanctuary.\r\nLet cut them off, I will thee help them carry;\r\nThey shall be shrined in a hogge\u2019s turd.\u201d\r\nThe Pardoner answered not one word;\r\nSo wroth he was, no worde would he say.\r\n\r\n\u201cNow,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201cI will no longer play\r\nWith thee, nor with none other angry man.\u201d\r\nBut right anon the worthy Knight began\r\n(When that he saw that all the people lough*),                  *laughed\r\n\u201cNo more of this, for it is right enough.\r\nSir Pardoner, be merry and glad of cheer;\r\nAnd ye, Sir Host, that be to me so dear,\r\nI pray you that ye kiss the Pardoner;\r\nAnd, Pardoner, I pray thee draw thee ner,*                       *nearer\r\nAnd as we didde, let us laugh and play.\u201d\r\nAnon they kiss\u2019d, and rode forth their way.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Pardoner\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The outline of this Tale is to be found in the \u201cCento Novelle\r\nAntiche,\u201d but the original is now lost. As in the case of the Wife\r\nof Bath\u2019s Tale, there is a long prologue, but in this case it has\r\nbeen treated as part of the Tale.\r\n\r\n2. Hautein: loud, lofty; from French, \u201chautain.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. Radix malorum est cupiditas: \u201cthe love of money is the root\r\nof all evil\u201d (1 Tim.vi. 10)\r\n\r\n4.All had she taken priestes two or three: even if she had\r\ncommitted adultery with two or three priests.\r\n\r\n5. Blackburied: The meaning of this is not very clear, but it is\r\nprobably a periphrastic and picturesque way of indicating\r\ndamnation.\r\n\r\n6. Grisly: dreadful; fitted to \u201cagrise\u201d or horrify the listener.\r\n\r\n7.  Mr Wright says: \u201cThe common oaths in the Middle Ages\r\nwere by the different parts of God\u2019s body; and the popular\r\npreachers represented that profane swearers tore Christ\u2019s body\r\nby their imprecations.\u201d The idea was doubtless borrowed from\r\nthe passage in Hebrews (vi. 6), where apostates are said to\r\n\u201ccrucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put Him to\r\nan open shame.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Tombesteres: female dancers or tumblers; from Anglo-\r\nSaxon, \u201ctumban,\u201d to dance.\r\n\r\n9. \u201cBe not drunk with wine, wherein is excess.\u201d Eph. v.18.\r\n\r\n10. The reference is probably to the diligent inquiries Herod\r\nmade at the time of Christ\u2019s birth. See Matt. ii. 4-8\r\n\r\n11. A drunkard. \u201cPerhaps,\u201d says Tyrwhitt, \u201cChaucer refers to\r\nEpist. LXXXIII., \u2018Extende in plures dies illum ebrii habitum;\r\nnunquid de furore dubitabis? nunc quoque non est minor sed\r\nbrevior.\u2019\u201d  (\u201cProlong the drunkard\u2019s condition to several days;\r\nwill you doubt his madness? Even as it is, the madness is no\r\nless; merely shorter.\u201d)\r\n\r\n12. Defended: forbidden; French, \u201cdefendu.\u201d  St Jerome, in his\r\nbook against Jovinian, says that so long as Adam fasted, he was\r\nin Paradise; he ate, and he was thrust out.\r\n\r\n13. \u201cMeats for the belly, and the belly for meats; but God shall\r\ndestroy both it and them.\u201d 1 Cor. vi. 13.\r\n\r\n14. \u201cFor many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now\r\ntell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of\r\nChrist:  Whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and\r\nwhose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things.\u201d  Phil.\r\niii. 18, 19.\r\n\r\n15. Cod: bag; Anglo-Saxon, \u201ccodde;\u201d hence peas-cod, pin-cod\r\n(pin-cushion), &c.\r\n\r\n16. Compare with the lines which follow, the picture of the\r\ndrunken messenger in the Man of Law\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n17. Lepe:  A town near Cadiz, whence a stronger wine than the\r\nGascon vintages afforded was imported to England. French\r\nwine was often adulterated with the cheaper and stronger\r\nSpanish.\r\n\r\n18. Another reading is \u201cFleet Street.\u201d\r\n\r\n19. Attila was suffocated in the night by a haemorrhage,\r\nbrought on by a debauch, when he was preparing a new\r\ninvasion of Italy, in 453.\r\n\r\n20. \u201cIt is not for kings, O Lemuel, it is not for kings to drink\r\nwine, nor for princes strong drink; lest they drink, and forget\r\nthe law, and pervert the judgment of any of the afflicted.\u201d Prov.\r\nxxxi. 4, 5.\r\n\r\n21. Most manuscripts, evidently in error, have \u201cStilbon\u201d and\r\n\u201cCalidone\u201d for Chilon and Lacedaemon. Chilon was one of the\r\nseven sages of Greece, and flourished about B.C. 590.\r\nAccording to Diogenes Laertius, he died, under the pressure of\r\nage and joy, in the arms of his son, who had just been crowned\r\nvictor at the Olympic games.\r\n\r\n22. \u201cSwear not at all;\u201d Christ\u2019s words in Matt. v. 34.\r\n\r\n23. \u201cAnd thou shalt swear, the lord liveth in truth, in judgement,\r\nand in righteousness.\u201d  Jeremiah iv. 2\r\n\r\n24. The nails that fastened Christ on the cross, which were\r\nregarded with superstitious reverence.\r\n\r\n25. Hailes: An abbey in Gloucestershire, where, under the\r\ndesignation of \u201cthe blood of Hailes,\u201d a portion of  Christ\u2019s blood\r\nwas preserved.\r\n\r\n26. Go bet: a hunting phrase; apparently its force is, \u201cgo beat up\r\nthe game.\u201d\r\n\r\n27. Haw; farm-yard, hedge  Compare the French, \u201chaie.\u201d\r\n\r\n28. Avicen, or Avicenna, was among the distinguished\r\nphysicians of the Arabian school in the eleventh century, and\r\nvery popular in the Middle Ages.  His great work was called\r\n\u201cCanon Medicinae,\u201d and was divided into \u201cfens,\u201d \u201cfennes,\u201d or\r\nsections.\r\n\r\n29. Assoil:  absolve. compare the Scotch law-term \u201cassoilzie,\u201d\r\nto acquit.\r\n\r\n30. Saint Helen, according to Sir John Mandeville, found the\r\ncross of Christ deep below ground, under a rock, where the\r\nJews had hidden it; and she tested the genuineness of the sacred\r\ntree, by raising to life a dead man laid upon it.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE SHIPMAN\u2019S TALE.<1>\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE\r\n\r\nOur Host upon his stirrups stood anon,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cGood men, hearken every one,\r\nThis was a thrifty* tale for the nones.            *discreet, profitable\r\nSir Parish Priest,\u201d quoth he, \u201cfor Godde\u2019s bones,\r\nTell us a tale, as was thy *forword yore:*            *promise formerly*\r\nI see well that ye learned men in lore\r\nCan* muche good, by Godde\u2019s dignity.\u201d                              *know\r\nThe Parson him answer\u2019d, \u201cBen\u2019dicite!\r\nWhat ails the man, so sinfully to swear?\u201d\r\nOur Host answer\u2019d, \u201cO Jankin, be ye there?\r\nNow, good men,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201chearken to me.\r\nI smell a Lollard <2> in the wind,\u201d quoth he.\r\n\u201cAbide, for Godde\u2019s digne* passion,                              *worthy\r\nFor we shall have a predication:\r\nThis Lollard here will preachen us somewhat.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, by my father\u2019s soul, that shall he not,\r\nSaide the Shipman; \u201cHere shall he not preach,\r\nHe shall no gospel glose* here nor teach.                  *comment upon\r\nWe all believe in the great God,\u201d quoth he.\r\n\u201cHe woulde sowe some difficulty,\r\nOr springe cockle <3> in our cleane corn.\r\nAnd therefore, Host, I warne thee beforn,\r\nMy jolly body shall a tale tell,\r\nAnd I shall clinke you so merry a bell,\r\nThat I shall waken all this company;\r\nBut it shall not be of philosophy,\r\nNor of physic, nor termes quaint of law;\r\nThere is but little Latin in my maw.\u201d*                            *belly\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Shipman\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Prologue here given was transferred by Tyrwhitt from\r\nthe place, preceding the Squire\u2019s Tale, which it had formerly\r\noccupied; the Shipman\u2019s Tale having no Prologue in the best\r\nmanuscripts.\r\n\r\n2. Lollard: A contemptuous name for the followers of\r\nWyckliffe; presumably derived from the Latin, \u201clolium,\u201d tares,\r\nas if they were the tares among the Lord\u2019s wheat; so, a few lines\r\nbelow, the Shipman intimates his fear lest the Parson should\r\n\u201cspring cockle in our clean corn.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. Cockle: A weed, the \u201cAgrostemma githago\u201d of Linnaeus;\r\nperhaps named from the Anglo-Saxon, \u201cceocan,\u201d because it\r\nchokes the corn.\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: It is also possible Chaucer had in mind\r\nMatthew 13:25, where in some translations, an enemy sowed\r\n\u201ccockle\u201d amongst the wheat. (Other translations have \u201ctares\u201d\r\nand \u201cdarnel\u201d.))\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nA Merchant whilom dwell\u2019d at Saint Denise,\r\nThat riche was, for which men held him wise.\r\nA wife he had of excellent beauty,\r\nAnd *companiable and revellous* was she,            *fond of society and\r\nWhich is a thing that causeth more dispence                merry making*\r\nThan worth is all the cheer and reverence\r\nThat men them do at feastes and at dances.\r\nSuch salutations and countenances\r\nPassen, as doth the shadow on the wall;\r\nPut woe is him that paye must for all.\r\nThe sely* husband algate** he must pay,               *innocent **always\r\nHe must us <2> clothe and he must us array\r\nAll for his owen worship richely:\r\nIn which array we dance jollily.\r\nAnd if that he may not, paraventure,\r\nOr elles list not such dispence endure,\r\nBut thinketh it is wasted and y-lost,\r\nThen must another paye for our cost,\r\nOr lend us gold, and that is perilous.\r\n\r\nThis noble merchant held a noble house;\r\nFor which he had all day so great repair,*           *resort of visitors\r\nFor his largesse, and for his wife was fair,\r\nThat wonder is; but hearken to my tale.\r\nAmonges all these guestes great and smale,\r\nThere was a monk, a fair man and a bold,\r\nI trow a thirty winter he was old,\r\nThat ever-in-one* was drawing to that place.                 *constantly\r\nThis younge monk, that was so fair of face,\r\nAcquainted was so with this goode man,\r\nSince that their firste knowledge began,\r\nThat in his house as familiar was he\r\nAs it is possible any friend to be.\r\nAnd, for as muchel as this goode man,\r\nAnd eke this monk of which that I began,\r\nWere both the two y-born in one village,\r\nThe monk *him claimed, as for cousinage,*               *claimed kindred\r\nAnd he again him said not once nay,                            with him*\r\nBut was as glad thereof as fowl of day;\r\n\u201cFor to his heart it was a great pleasance.\r\nThus be they knit with etern\u2019 alliance,\r\nAnd each of them gan other to assure\r\nOf brotherhood while that their life may dure.\r\nFree was Dan <3> John, and namely* of dispence,** *especially **spending\r\nAs in that house, and full of diligence\r\nTo do pleasance, and also *great costage;*              *liberal outlay*\r\nHe not forgot to give the leaste page\r\nIn all that house; but, after their degree,\r\nHe gave the lord, and sithen* his meinie,**       *afterwards **servants\r\nWhen that he came, some manner honest thing;\r\nFor which they were as glad of his coming\r\nAs fowl is fain when that the sun upriseth.\r\nNo more of this as now, for it sufficeth.\r\n\r\nBut so befell, this merchant on a day\r\nShope* him to make ready his array                   *resolved, arranged\r\nToward the town of Bruges <4> for to fare,\r\nTo buye there a portion of ware;*                           *merchandise\r\nFor which he hath to Paris sent anon\r\nA messenger, and prayed hath Dan John\r\nThat he should come to Saint Denis, and play*             *enjoy himself\r\nWith him, and with his wife, a day or tway,\r\nEre he to Bruges went, in alle wise.\r\nThis noble monk, of which I you devise,*                           *tell\r\nHad of his abbot, as him list, licence,\r\n(Because he was a man of high prudence,\r\nAnd eke an officer out for to ride,\r\nTo see their granges and their barnes wide); <5>\r\nAnd unto Saint Denis he came anon.\r\nWho was so welcome as my lord Dan John,\r\nOur deare cousin, full of courtesy?\r\nWith him he brought a jub* of malvesie,                             *jug\r\nAnd eke another full of fine vernage, <6>\r\nAnd volatile,* as aye was his usage:                          *wild-fowl\r\nAnd thus I let them eat, and drink, and play,\r\nThis merchant and this monk, a day or tway.\r\nThe thirde day the merchant up ariseth,\r\nAnd on his needeis sadly him adviseth;\r\nAnd up into his countour-house* went he,             *counting-house <7>\r\nTo reckon with himself as well may be,\r\nOf thilke* year, how that it with him stood,                       *that\r\nAnd how that he dispended bad his good,\r\nAnd if that he increased were or non.\r\nHis bookes and his bagges many a one\r\nHe laid before him on his counting-board.\r\nFull riche was his treasure and his hoard;\r\nFor which full fast his countour door he shet;\r\nAnd eke he would that no man should him let*                     *hinder\r\nOf his accountes, for the meane time:\r\nAnd thus he sat, till it was passed prime.\r\n\r\nDan John was risen in the morn also,\r\nAnd in the garden walked to and fro,\r\nAnd had his thinges said full courteously.\r\nThe good wife came walking full privily\r\nInto the garden, where he walked soft,\r\nAnd him saluted, as she had done oft;\r\nA maiden child came in her company,\r\nWhich as her list she might govern and gie,*                      *guide\r\nFor yet under the yarde* was the maid.                          *rod <8>\r\n\u201cO deare cousin mine, Dan John,\u201d she said,\r\n\u201cWhat aileth you so rath* for to arise?\u201d                          *early\r\n\u201cNiece,\u201d quoth he, \u201cit ought enough suffice\r\nFive houres for to sleep upon a night;\u2019\r\nBut* it were for an old appalled** wight,       *unless **pallid, wasted\r\nAs be these wedded men, that lie and dare,*                       *stare\r\nAs in a forme sits a weary hare,\r\nAlle forstraught* with houndes great and smale;  *distracted, confounded\r\nBut, deare niece, why be ye so pale?\r\nI trowe certes that our goode man\r\nHath you so laboured, since this night began,\r\nThat you were need to reste hastily.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word he laugh\u2019d full merrily,\r\nAnd of his owen thought he wax\u2019d all red.\r\nThis faire wife gan for to shake her head,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cYea, God wot all\u201d quoth she.\r\n\u201cNay, cousin mine, it stands not so with me;\r\nFor by that God, that gave me soul and life,\r\nIn all the realm of France is there no wife\r\nThat lesse lust hath to that sorry play;\r\nFor I may sing alas and well-away!\r\nThat I was born; but to no wight,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cDare I not tell how that it stands with me.\r\nWherefore I think out of this land to wend,\r\nOr elles of myself to make an end,\r\nSo full am I of dread and eke of care.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis monk began upon this wife to stare,\r\nAnd said, \u201cAlas! my niece, God forbid\r\nThat ye for any sorrow, or any dread,\r\nFordo* yourself: but telle me your grief,                       *destroy\r\nParaventure I may, in your mischief,*                          *distress\r\nCounsel or help; and therefore telle me\r\nAll your annoy, for it shall be secre.\r\nFor on my portos* here I make an oath,                         *breviary\r\nThat never in my life, *for lief nor loth,*       *willing or unwilling*\r\nNe shall I of no counsel you bewray.\u201d\r\n\u201cThe same again to you,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI say.\r\nBy God and by this portos I you swear,\r\nThough men me woulden all in pieces tear,\r\nNe shall I never, for* to go to hell,                   *though I should\r\nBewray* one word of thing that ye me tell,                       *betray\r\nFor no cousinage, nor alliance,\r\nBut verily for love and affiance.\u201d*                 *confidence, promise\r\nThus be they sworn, and thereupon they kiss\u2019d,\r\nAnd each of them told other what them list.\r\n\u201cCousin,\u201d quoth she, \u201cif that I hadde space,\r\nAs I have none, and namely* in this place,                    *specially\r\nThen would I tell a legend of my life,\r\nWhat I have suffer\u2019d since I was a wife\r\nWith mine husband, all* be he your cousin.                     *although\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth this monk, \u201cby God and Saint Martin,\r\nHe is no more cousin unto me,\r\nThan is the leaf that hangeth on the tree;\r\nI call him so, by Saint Denis of France,\r\nTo have the more cause of acquaintance\r\nOf you, which I have loved specially\r\nAboven alle women sickerly,*                                     *surely\r\nThis swear I you *on my professioun;*            *by my vows of religion\r\nTell me your grief, lest that he come adown,\r\nAnd hasten you, and go away anon.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cMy deare love,\u201d quoth she, \u201cO my Dan John,\r\nFull lief* were me this counsel for to hide,                   *pleasant\r\nBut out it must, I may no more abide.\r\nMy husband is to me the worste man\r\nThat ever was since that the world began;\r\nBut since I am a wife, it sits* not me                          *becomes\r\nTo telle no wight of our privity,\r\nNeither in bed, nor in none other place;\r\nGod shield* I shoulde tell it for his grace;                     *forbid\r\nA wife shall not say of her husband\r\nBut all honour, as I can understand;\r\nSave unto you thus much I telle shall;\r\nAs help me God, he is nought worth at all\r\nIn no degree, the value of a fly.\r\nBut yet me grieveth most his niggardy.*                      *stinginess\r\nAnd well ye wot, that women naturally\r\nDesire thinges six, as well as I.\r\nThey woulde that their husbands shoulde be\r\nHardy,* and wise, and rich, and thereto free,                     *brave\r\nAnd buxom* to his wife, and fresh in bed.            *yielding, obedient\r\nBut, by that ilke* Lord that for us bled,                          *same\r\nFor his honour myself for to array,\r\nOn Sunday next I muste needes pay\r\nA hundred francs, or elles am I lorn.*                   *ruined, undone\r\nYet *were me lever* that I were unborn,                 *I would rather*\r\nThan me were done slander or villainy.\r\nAnd if mine husband eke might it espy,\r\nI were but lost; and therefore I you pray,\r\nLend me this sum, or elles must I dey.*                             *die\r\nDan John, I say, lend me these hundred francs;\r\nPardie, I will not faile you, *my thanks,*            *if I can help it*\r\nIf that you list to do that I you pray;\r\nFor at a certain day I will you pay,\r\nAnd do to you what pleasance and service\r\nThat I may do, right as you list devise.\r\nAnd but* I do, God take on me vengeance,                         *unless\r\nAs foul as e\u2019er had Ganilion <9> of France.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis gentle monk answer\u2019d in this mannere;\r\n\u201cNow truely, mine owen lady dear,\r\nI have,\u201d quoth he, \u201con you so greate ruth,*                        *pity\r\nThat I you swear, and plighte you my truth,\r\nThat when your husband is to Flanders fare,*                       *gone\r\nI will deliver you out of this care,\r\nFor I will bringe you a hundred francs.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word he caught her by the flanks,\r\nAnd her embraced hard, and kissed her oft.\r\n\u201cGo now your way,\u201d quoth he, \u201call still and soft,\r\nAnd let us dine as soon as that ye may,\r\nFor by my cylinder* \u2019tis prime of day;                 *portable sundial\r\nGo now, and be as true as I shall be .\u201d\r\n\u201cNow elles God forbidde, Sir,\u201d quoth she;\r\nAnd forth she went, as jolly as a pie,\r\nAnd bade the cookes that they should them hie,*              *make haste\r\nSo that men mighte dine, and that anon.\r\nUp to her husband is this wife gone,\r\nAnd knocked at his contour boldely.\r\n*\u201cQui est la?\u201d* quoth he. \u201cPeter! it am I,\u201d              *who is there?*\r\nQuoth she; \u201cWhat, Sir, how longe all will ye fast?\r\nHow longe time will ye reckon and cast\r\nYour summes, and your bookes, and your things?\r\nThe devil have part of all such reckonings!\r\nYe have enough, pardie, of Godde\u2019s sond.*                *sending, gifts\r\nCome down to-day, and let your bagges stond.*                     *stand\r\nNe be ye not ashamed, that Dan John\r\nShall fasting all this day elenge* gon?                   *see note <10>\r\nWhat? let us hear a mass, and go we dine.\u201d\r\n\u201cWife,\u201d quoth this man, \u201clittle canst thou divine\r\nThe curious businesse that we have;\r\nFor of us chapmen,* all so God me save,                       *merchants\r\nAnd by that lord that cleped is Saint Ive,\r\nScarcely amonges twenty, ten shall thrive\r\nContinually, lasting unto our age.\r\nWe may well make cheer and good visage,\r\nAnd drive forth the world as it may be,\r\nAnd keepen our estate in privity,\r\nTill we be dead, or elles that we play\r\nA pilgrimage, or go out of the way.\r\nAnd therefore have I great necessity\r\nUpon this quaint* world to advise** me.              *strange **consider\r\nFor evermore must we stand in dread\r\nOf hap and fortune in our chapmanhead.*                         *trading\r\nTo Flanders will I go to-morrow at day,\r\nAnd come again as soon as e\u2019er I may:\r\nFor which, my deare wife, I thee beseek                         *beseech\r\nAs be to every wight buxom* and meek,                  *civil, courteous\r\nAnd for to keep our good be curious,\r\nAnd honestly governe well our house.\r\nThou hast enough, in every manner wise,\r\nThat to a thrifty household may suffice.\r\nThee lacketh none array, nor no vitail;\r\nOf silver in thy purse thou shalt not fail.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word his contour door he shet,*                      *shut\r\nAnd down he went; no longer would he let;*                *delay, hinder\r\nAnd hastily a mass was there said,\r\nAnd speedily the tables were laid,\r\nAnd to the dinner faste they them sped,\r\nAnd richely this monk the chapman fed.\r\nAnd after dinner Dan John soberly\r\nThis chapman took apart, and privily\r\nHe said him thus: \u201cCousin, it standeth so,\r\nThat, well I see, to Bruges ye will go;\r\nGod and Saint Austin speede you and guide.\r\nI pray you, cousin, wisely that ye ride:\r\nGoverne you also of your diet\r\nAttemperly,* and namely** in this heat.                      *moderately\r\nBetwixt us two needeth no *strange fare;*                *ado, ceremony*\r\nFarewell, cousin, God shielde you from care.\r\nIf any thing there be, by day or night,\r\nIf it lie in my power and my might,\r\nThat ye me will command in any wise,\r\nIt shall be done, right as ye will devise.\r\nBut one thing ere ye go, if it may be;\r\nI woulde pray you for to lend to me\r\nA hundred frankes, for a week or twy,\r\nFor certain beastes that I muste buy,\r\nTo store with a place that is ours\r\n(God help me so, I would that it were yours);\r\nI shall not faile surely of my day,\r\nNot for a thousand francs, a mile way.\r\nBut let this thing be secret, I you pray;\r\nFor yet to-night these beastes must I buy.\r\nAnd fare now well, mine owen cousin dear;\r\n*Grand mercy* of your cost and of your cheer.\u201d            *great thanks*\r\n\r\nThis noble merchant gentilly* anon                     *like a gentleman\r\nAnswer\u2019d and said, \u201cO cousin mine, Dan John,\r\nNow sickerly this is a small request:\r\nMy gold is youres, when that it you lest,\r\nAnd not only my gold, but my chaffare;*                     *merchandise\r\nTake what you list, *God shielde that ye spare.*    *God forbid that you\r\nBut one thing is, ye know it well enow           should take too little*\r\nOf chapmen, that their money is their plough.\r\nWe may creance* while we have a name,                     *obtain credit\r\nBut goldless for to be it is no game.\r\nPay it again when it lies in your ease;\r\nAfter my might full fain would I you please.\u201d\r\n\r\nThese hundred frankes set he forth anon,\r\nAnd privily he took them to Dan John;\r\nNo wight in all this world wist of this loan,\r\nSaving the merchant and Dan John alone.\r\nThey drink, and speak, and roam a while, and play,\r\nTill that Dan John rode unto his abbay.\r\nThe morrow came, and forth this merchant rideth\r\nTo Flanders-ward, his prentice well him guideth,\r\nTill he came unto Bruges merrily.\r\nNow went this merchant fast and busily\r\nAbout his need, and buyed and creanced;*                     *got credit\r\nHe neither played at the dice, nor danced;\r\nBut as a merchant, shortly for to tell,\r\nHe led his life; and there I let him dwell.\r\n\r\nThe Sunday next* the merchant was y-gone,                         *after\r\nTo Saint Denis y-comen is Dan John,\r\nWith crown and beard all fresh and newly shave,\r\nIn all the house was not so little a knave,*                *servant-boy\r\nNor no wight elles that was not full fain\r\nFor that my lord Dan John was come again.\r\nAnd shortly to the point right for to gon,\r\nThe faire wife accorded with Dan John,\r\nThat for these hundred francs he should all night\r\nHave her in his armes bolt upright;\r\nAnd this accord performed was in deed.\r\nIn mirth all night a busy life they lead,\r\nTill it was day, that Dan John went his way,\r\nAnd bade the meinie* \u201cFarewell; have good day.\u201d                *servants\r\nFor none of them, nor no wight in the town,\r\nHad of Dan John right no suspicioun;\r\nAnd forth he rode home to his abbay,\r\nOr where him list; no more of him I say.\r\n\r\nThe merchant, when that ended was the fair,\r\nTo Saint Denis he gan for to repair,\r\nAnd with his wife he made feast and cheer,\r\nAnd tolde her that chaffare* was so dear,                   *merchandise\r\nThat needes must he make a chevisance;*                       *loan <11>\r\nFor he was bound in a recognisance\r\nTo paye twenty thousand shields* anon.                     *crowns, ecus\r\nFor which this merchant is to Paris gone,\r\nTo borrow of certain friendes that he had\r\nA certain francs, and some with him he lad.*                       *took\r\nAnd when that he was come into the town,\r\nFor great cherte* and great affectioun                             *love\r\nUnto Dan John he wente first to play;\r\nNot for to borrow of him no money,\r\nBat for to weet* and see of his welfare,                           *know\r\nAnd for to telle him of his chaffare,\r\nAs friendes do, when they be met in fere.*                      *company\r\nDan John him made feast and merry cheer;\r\nAnd he him told again full specially,\r\nHow he had well y-bought and graciously\r\n(Thanked be God) all whole his merchandise;\r\nSave that he must, in alle manner wise,\r\nMaken a chevisance, as for his best;\r\nAnd then he shoulde be in joy and rest.\r\nDan John answered, \u201cCertes, I am fain*                             *glad\r\nThat ye in health be come borne again:\r\nAnd if that I were rich, as have I bliss,\r\nOf twenty thousand shields should ye not miss,\r\nFor ye so kindely the other day\r\nLente me gold, and as I can and may\r\nI thanke you, by God and by Saint Jame.\r\nBut natheless I took unto our Dame,\r\nYour wife at home, the same gold again,\r\nUpon your bench; she wot it well, certain,\r\nBy certain tokens that I can her tell\r\nNow, by your leave, I may no longer dwell;\r\nOur abbot will out of this town anon,\r\nAnd in his company I muste gon.\r\nGreet well our Dame, mine owen niece sweet,\r\nAnd farewell, deare cousin, till we meet.\r\n\r\nThis merchant, which that was full ware and wise,\r\n*Creanced hath,* and paid eke in Paris             *had obtained credit*\r\nTo certain Lombards ready in their hond\r\nThe sum of gold, and got of them his bond,\r\nAnd home he went, merry as a popinjay.*                          *parrot\r\nFor well he knew he stood in such array\r\nThat needes must he win in that voyage\r\nA thousand francs, above all his costage.*                     *expenses\r\nHis wife full ready met him at the gate,\r\nAs she was wont of old usage algate*                             *always\r\nAnd all that night in mirthe they beset;*                         *spent\r\nFor he was rich, and clearly out of debt.\r\nWhen it was day, the merchant gan embrace\r\nHis wife all new, and kiss\u2019d her in her face,\r\nAnd up he went, and maked it full tough.\r\n\r\n\u201cNo more,\u201d quoth she, \u201cby God ye have enough;\u201d\r\nAnd wantonly again with him she play\u2019d,\r\nTill at the last this merchant to her said.\r\n\u201cBy God,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI am a little wroth\r\nWith you, my wife, although it be me loth;\r\nAnd wot ye why? by God, as that I guess,\r\nThat ye have made a *manner strangeness*        *a kind of estrangement*\r\nBetwixte me and my cousin, Dan John.\r\nYe should have warned me, ere I had gone,\r\nThat he you had a hundred frankes paid\r\nBy ready token; he *had him evil apaid*                 *was displeased*\r\nFor that I to him spake of chevisance,*                       *borrowing\r\n(He seemed so as by his countenance);\r\nBut natheless, by God of heaven king,\r\nI thoughte not to ask of him no thing.\r\nI pray thee, wife, do thou no more so.\r\nTell me alway, ere that I from thee go,\r\nIf any debtor hath in mine absence\r\nY-payed thee, lest through thy negligence\r\nI might him ask a thing that he hath paid.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis wife was not afeared nor afraid,\r\nBut boldely she said, and that anon;\r\n\u201cMary! I defy that false monk Dan John,\r\nI keep* not of his tokens never a deal:**                   *care **whit\r\nHe took me certain gold, I wot it well. \u2014\r\nWhat? evil thedom* on his monke\u2019s snout! \u2014                    *thriving\r\nFor, God it wot, I ween\u2019d withoute doubt\r\nThat he had given it me, because of you,\r\nTo do therewith mine honour and my prow,*                        *profit\r\nFor cousinage, and eke for belle cheer\r\nThat he hath had full often here.\r\nBut since I see I stand in such disjoint,*             *awkward position\r\nI will answer you shortly to the point.\r\nYe have more slacke debtors than am I;\r\nFor I will pay you well and readily,\r\nFrom day to day, and if so be I fail,\r\nI am your wife, score it upon my tail,\r\nAnd I shall pay as soon as ever I may.\r\nFor, by my troth, I have on mine array,\r\nAnd not in waste, bestow\u2019d it every deal.\r\nAnd, for I have bestowed it so well,\r\nFor your honour, for Godde\u2019s sake I say,\r\nAs be not wroth, but let us laugh and play.\r\nYe shall my jolly body have *to wed;*                        *in pledge*\r\nBy God, I will not pay you but in bed;\r\nForgive it me, mine owen spouse dear;\r\nTurn hitherward, and make better cheer.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe merchant saw none other remedy;\r\nAnd for to chide, it were but a folly,\r\nSince that the thing might not amended be.\r\n\u201cNow, wife,\u201d he said, \u201cand I forgive it thee;\r\nBut by thy life be no more so large;*                   *liberal, lavish\r\nKeep better my good, this give I thee in charge.\u201d\r\nThus endeth now my tale; and God us send\r\nTaling enough, until our lives\u2019 end!\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Shipman\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. In this Tale Chaucer seems to have followed an old French\r\nstory, which also formed the groundwork of the first story in\r\nthe eighth day of the \u201cDecameron.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. \u201cHe must us clothe\u201d: So in all the manuscripts and from this\r\nand the following lines, it must be inferred that Chaucer had\r\nintended to put the Tale in  the mouth of a female speaker.\r\n\r\n3. Dan: a title bestowed on priests and scholars; from\r\n\u201cDominus,\u201d like the Spanish \u201cDon\u201d.\r\n\r\n4. Bruges was in Chaucer\u2019s time the great emporium of\r\nEuropean commerce.\r\n\r\n5. The monk had been appointed by his abbot to inspect and\r\nmanage the rural property of the monastery.\r\n\r\n6. Malvesie or Malmesy wine derived its name from Malvasia, a\r\nregion of the Morea near Cape Malea, where it was made, as it\r\nalso was on Chios and some other Greek islands. Vernage was\r\n\u201cvernaccia\u201d, a sweet Italian wine.\r\n\r\n 7. Contour-house: counting-house; French, \u201ccomptoir.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Under the yarde: under the rod; in pupillage; a phrase\r\nproperly used of children, but employed by the Clerk in the\r\nprologue to his tale.  See note 1 to the Prologue to the Clerk\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n9. Genelon, Ganelon, or Ganilion; one of Charlemagne\u2019s\r\nofficers, whose treachery was the cause of the disastrous defeat\r\nof the Christians by the Saracens at Roncevalles; he was torn to\r\npieces by four horses.\r\n\r\n10. Elenge:  From French, \u201celoigner,\u201d to remove; it may mean\r\neither the lonely, cheerless condition of the priest, or the strange\r\nbehaviour of the merchant in leaving him to himself.\r\n\r\n11. Make a chevisance: raise money by means of a borrowing\r\nagreement; from French,  \u201cachever,\u201d to finish; the general\r\nmeaning of the word is a bargain, an agreement.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PRIORESS\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\n\u201cWELL said, by *corpus Domini,\u201d* quoth our Host;       *the Lord\u2019s body*\r\n\u201cNow longe may\u2019st thou saile by the coast,\r\nThou gentle Master, gentle Marinere.\r\nGod give the monk *a thousand last quad year!*   *ever so much evil* <1>\r\nAha! fellows, beware of such a jape.*                             *trick\r\nThe monk *put in the manne\u2019s hood an ape,*                  *fooled him*\r\nAnd in his wife\u2019s eke, by Saint Austin.\r\nDrawe no monkes more into your inn.\r\nBut now pass over, and let us seek about,\r\nWho shall now telle first of all this rout\r\nAnother tale;\u201d and with that word he said,\r\nAs courteously as it had been a maid;\r\n\u201cMy Lady Prioresse, by your leave,\r\nSo that I wist I shoulde you not grieve,*                        *offend\r\nI woulde deeme* that ye telle should                      *judge, decide\r\nA tale next, if so were that ye would.\r\nNow will ye vouchesafe, my lady dear?\u201d\r\n\u201cGladly,\u201d quoth she; and said as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Prioress\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. A thousand last quad year: ever so much evil.   \u201cLast\u201d means\r\na load, \u201cquad,\u201d bad; and literally we may read \u201ca thousand\r\nweight of bad years.\u201d The Italians use \u201cmal anno\u201d in the same\r\nsense.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nO Lord our Lord! thy name how marvellous\r\nIs in this large world y-spread! <2> (quoth she)\r\nFor not only thy laude* precious                                 *praise\r\nPerformed is by men of high degree,\r\nBut by the mouth of children thy bounte*                       *goodness\r\nPerformed is, for on the breast sucking\r\nSometimes showe they thy herying.* <3>                            *glory\r\n\r\nWherefore in laud, as I best can or may\r\nOf thee, and of the white lily flow\u2019r\r\nWhich that thee bare, and is a maid alway,\r\nTo tell a story I will do my labour;\r\nNot that I may increase her honour,\r\nFor she herselven is honour and root\r\nOf bounte, next her son, and soules\u2019 boot.*                        *help\r\n\r\nO mother maid, O maid and mother free!*                       *bounteous\r\nO bush unburnt, burning in Moses\u2019 sight,\r\nThat ravished\u2019st down from the deity,\r\nThrough thy humbless, the ghost that in thee light; <4>\r\nOf whose virtue, when he thine hearte light,*      *lightened, gladdened\r\nConceived was the Father\u2019s sapience;\r\nHelp me to tell it to thy reverence.\r\n\r\nLady! thy bounty, thy magnificence,\r\nThy virtue, and thy great humility,\r\nThere may no tongue express in no science:\r\nFor sometimes, Lady! ere men pray to thee,\r\nThou go\u2019st before, of thy benignity,\r\nAnd gettest us the light, through thy prayere,\r\nTo guiden us unto thy son so dear.\r\n\r\nMy conning* is so weak, O blissful queen,                *skill, ability\r\nFor to declare thy great worthiness,\r\nThat I not may the weight of it sustene;\r\nBut as a child of twelvemonth old, or less,\r\nThat can unnethes* any word express,                           *scarcely\r\nRight so fare I; and therefore, I you pray,\r\nGuide my song that I shall of you say.\r\n\r\nThere was in Asia, in a great city,\r\nAmonges Christian folk, a Jewery,<5>\r\nSustained by a lord of that country,\r\nFor foul usure, and lucre of villainy,\r\nHateful to Christ, and to his company;\r\nAnd through the street men mighte ride and wend,*              *go, walk\r\nFor it was free, and open at each end.\r\n\r\nA little school of Christian folk there stood\r\nDown at the farther end, in which there were\r\nChildren an heap y-come of Christian blood,\r\nThat learned in that schoole year by year\r\nSuch manner doctrine as men used there;\r\nThis is to say, to singen and to read,\r\nAs smalle children do in their childhead.\r\n\r\nAmong these children was a widow\u2019s son,\r\nA little clergion,* seven year of age,           *young clerk or scholar\r\nThat day by day to scholay* was his won,**                 *study **wont\r\nAnd eke also, whereso he saw th\u2019 image\r\nOf Christe\u2019s mother, had he in usage,\r\nAs him was taught, to kneel adown, and say\r\nAve Maria as he went by the way.\r\n\r\nThus had this widow her little son y-taught\r\nOur blissful Lady, Christe\u2019s mother dear,\r\nTo worship aye, and he forgot it not;\r\nFor sely* child will always soone lear.**              *innocent **learn\r\nBut aye when I remember on this mattere,\r\nSaint Nicholas <6> stands ever in my presence;\r\nFor he so young to Christ did reverence.\r\n\r\nThis little child his little book learning,\r\nAs he sat in the school at his primere,\r\nHe Alma redemptoris <7> hearde sing,\r\nAs children learned their antiphonere; <8>\r\nAnd as he durst, he drew him nere and nere,*                     *nearer\r\nAnd hearken\u2019d aye the wordes and the note,\r\nTill he the firste verse knew all by rote.\r\n\r\nNought wist he what this Latin was tosay,*                        *meant\r\nFor he so young and tender was of age;\r\nBut on a day his fellow gan he pray\r\nTo expound him this song in his language,\r\nOr tell him why this song was in usage:\r\nThis pray\u2019d he him to construe and declare,\r\nFull oftentime upon his knees bare.\r\n\r\nHis fellow, which that elder was than he,\r\nAnswer\u2019d him thus: \u201cThis song, I have heard say,\r\nWas maked of our blissful Lady free,\r\nHer to salute, and eke her to pray\r\nTo be our help and succour when we dey.*                            *die\r\nI can no more expound in this mattere:\r\nI learne song, I know but small grammere.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd is this song y-made in reverence\r\nOf Christe\u2019s mother?\u201d said this innocent;\r\nNow certes I will do my diligence\r\nTo conne* it all, ere Christemas be went;                    *learn; con\r\nThough that I for my primer shall be shent,*                  *disgraced\r\nAnd shall be beaten thries in an hour,\r\nI will it conne, our Lady to honour.\u201d\r\n\r\nHis fellow taught him homeward* privily                 *on the way home\r\nFrom day to day, till he coud* it by rote,                         *knew\r\nAnd then he sang it well and boldely\r\nFrom word to word according with the note;\r\nTwice in a day it passed through his throat;\r\nTo schoole-ward, and homeward when he went;\r\nOn Christ\u2019s mother was set all his intent.\r\n\r\nAs I have said, throughout the Jewery,\r\nThis little child, as he came to and fro,\r\nFull merrily then would he sing and cry,\r\nO Alma redemptoris, evermo\u2019;\r\nThe sweetness hath his hearte pierced so\r\nOf Christe\u2019s mother, that to her to pray\r\nHe cannot stint* of singing by the way.                           *cease\r\n\r\nOur firste foe, the serpent Satanas,\r\nThat hath in Jewes\u2019 heart his waspe\u2019s nest,\r\nUpswell\u2019d and said, \u201cO Hebrew people, alas!\r\nIs this to you a thing that is honest,*            *creditable, becoming\r\nThat such a boy shall walken as him lest\r\nIn your despite, and sing of such sentence,\r\nWhich is against your lawe\u2019s reverence?\u201d\r\n\r\nFrom thenceforth the Jewes have conspired\r\nThis innocent out of the world to chase;\r\nA homicide thereto have they hired,\r\nThat in an alley had a privy place,\r\nAnd, as the child gan forth by for to pace,\r\nThis cursed Jew him hent,* and held him fast                     *seized\r\nAnd cut his throat, and in a pit him cast.\r\n\r\nI say that in a wardrobe* he him threw,                           *privy\r\nWhere as the Jewes purged their entrail.\r\nO cursed folk! O Herodes all new!\r\nWhat may your evil intente you avail?\r\nMurder will out, certain it will not fail,\r\nAnd namely* where th\u2019 honour of God shall spread;            *especially\r\nThe blood out crieth on your cursed deed.\r\n\r\nO martyr souded* to virginity,                            *confirmed <9>\r\nNow may\u2019st thou sing, and follow ever-in-one*               *continually\r\nThe white Lamb celestial (quoth she),\r\nOf which the great Evangelist Saint John\r\nIn Patmos wrote, which saith that they that gon\r\nBefore this Lamb, and sing a song all new,\r\nThat never fleshly woman they ne knew.<10>\r\n\r\nThis poore widow waited all that night\r\nAfter her little child, but he came not;\r\nFor which, as soon as it was daye\u2019s light,\r\nWith face pale, in dread and busy thought,\r\nShe hath at school and elleswhere him sought,\r\nTill finally she gan so far espy,\r\nThat he was last seen in the Jewery.\r\n\r\nWith mother\u2019s pity in her breast enclosed,\r\nShe went, as she were half out of her mind,\r\nTo every place, where she hath supposed\r\nBy likelihood her little child to find:\r\nAnd ever on Christ\u2019s mother meek and kind\r\nShe cried, and at the laste thus she wrought,\r\nAmong the cursed Jewes she him sought.\r\n\r\nShe freined,* and she prayed piteously                      *asked* <11>\r\nTo every Jew that dwelled in that place,\r\nTo tell her, if her childe went thereby;\r\nThey saide, \u201cNay;\u201d but Jesus of his grace\r\nGave in her thought, within a little space,\r\nThat in that place after her son she cried,\r\nWhere he was cast into a pit beside.\r\n\r\nO greate God, that preformest thy laud\r\nBy mouth of innocents, lo here thy might!\r\nThis gem of chastity, this emeraud,*                            *emerald\r\nAnd eke of martyrdom the ruby bright,\r\nWhere he with throat y-carven* lay upright,                         *cut\r\nHe Alma Redemptoris gan to sing\r\nSo loud, that all the place began to ring.\r\n\r\nThe Christian folk, that through the streete went,\r\nIn came, for to wonder on this thing:\r\nAnd hastily they for the provost sent.\r\nHe came anon withoute tarrying,\r\nAnd heried* Christ, that is of heaven king,                     *praised\r\nAnd eke his mother, honour of mankind;\r\nAnd after that the Jewes let* he bind.                           *caused\r\n\r\nWith torment, and with shameful death each one\r\nThe provost did* these Jewes for to sterve**               *caused **die\r\nThat of this murder wist, and that anon;\r\nHe woulde no such cursedness observe*                          *overlook\r\nEvil shall have that evil will deserve;\r\nTherefore with horses wild he did them draw,\r\nAnd after that he hung them by the law.\r\n\r\nThe child, with piteous lamentation,\r\nWas taken up, singing his song alway:\r\nAnd with honour and great procession,\r\nThey crry him unto the next abbay.\r\nHis mother swooning by the biere lay;\r\nUnnethes* might the people that were there                     *scarcely\r\nThis newe Rachel bringe from his bier.\r\n\r\nUpon his biere lay this innocent\r\nBefore the altar while the masses last\u2019;*                        *lasted\r\nAnd, after that, th\u2019 abbot with his convent\r\nHave sped them for to bury him full fast;\r\nAnd when they holy water on him cast,\r\nYet spake this child, when sprinkled was the water,\r\nAnd sang, O Alma redemptoris mater!\r\n\r\nThis abbot, which that was a holy man,\r\nAs monkes be, or elles ought to be,\r\nThis younger child to conjure he began,\r\nAnd said; \u201cO deare child! I halse* thee,                   *implore <12>\r\nIn virtue of the holy Trinity;\r\nTell me what is thy cause for to sing,\r\nSince that thy throat is cut, to my seeming.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cMy throat is cut unto my necke-bone,\u201d\r\nSaide this child, \u201cand, as *by way of kind,*       *in course of nature*\r\nI should have died, yea long time agone;\r\nBut Jesus Christ, as ye in bookes find,\r\nWill that his glory last and be in mind;\r\nAnd, for the worship* of his mother dear,                         *glory\r\nYet may I sing O Alma loud and clear.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis well* of mercy, Christe\u2019s mother sweet,                  *fountain\r\nI loved alway, after my conning:*                             *knowledge\r\nAnd when that I my life should forlete,*                          *leave\r\nTo me she came, and bade me for to sing\r\nThis anthem verily in my dying,\r\nAs ye have heard; and, when that I had sung,\r\nMe thought she laid a grain upon my tongue.\r\n\r\n\u201cWherefore I sing, and sing I must certain,\r\nIn honour of that blissful maiden free,\r\nTill from my tongue off taken is the grain.\r\nAnd after that thus saide she to me;\r\n\u2018My little child, then will I fetche thee,\r\nWhen that the grain is from thy tongue take:\r\nBe not aghast,* I will thee not forsake.\u2019\u201d                       *afraid\r\n\r\nThis holy monk, this abbot him mean I,\r\nHis tongue out caught, and took away the grain;\r\nAnd he gave up the ghost full softely.\r\nAnd when this abbot had this wonder seen,\r\nHis salte teares trickled down as rain:\r\nAnd groff* he fell all flat upon the ground,      *prostrate, grovelling\r\nAnd still he lay, as he had been y-bound.\r\n\r\nThe convent* lay eke on the pavement                      *all the monks\r\nWeeping, and herying* Christ\u2019s mother dear.                    *praising\r\nAnd after that they rose, and forth they went,\r\nAnd took away this martyr from his bier,\r\nAnd in a tomb of marble stones clear\r\nEnclosed they his little body sweet;\r\nWhere he is now, God lene* us for to meet.                        *grant\r\n\r\nO younge Hugh of Lincoln!<13> slain also\r\nWith cursed Jewes, \u2014 as it is notable,\r\nFor it is but a little while ago, \u2014\r\nPray eke for us, we sinful folk unstable,\r\nThat, of his mercy, God so merciable*                          *merciful\r\nOn us his greate mercy multiply,\r\nFor reverence of his mother Mary.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prioress\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Tales of the murder of children by Jews were frequent in the\r\nMiddle Ages, being probably designed to keep up the bitter\r\nfeeling of the Christians against the Jews. Not a few children\r\nwere canonised on this account; and the scene of the misdeeds\r\nwas laid anywhere and everywhere, so that Chaucer could be at\r\nno loss for material.\r\n\r\n2. This is from Psalm viii. 1, \u201cDomine, dominus noster,quam\r\nadmirabile est nomen tuum in universa terra.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. \u201cOut of the mouths of babes and sucklings hast Thou\r\nordained strength.\u201d \u2014 Psalms viii. 2.\r\n\r\n4. The ghost that in thee light: the spirit that on thee alighted;\r\nthe Holy Ghost through whose power Christ was conceived.\r\n\r\n5. Jewery: A quarter which the Jews were permitted to inhabit;\r\nthe Old Jewry in London got its name in this way.\r\n\r\n6. St. Nicholas, even in his swaddling clothes \u2014 so says the\r\n\u201cBreviarium Romanum\u201d \u2014gave promise of extraordinary virtue\r\nand holiness; for, though he sucked freely on other days, on\r\nWednesdays and Fridays he applied to the breast only once, and\r\nthat not until the evening.\r\n\r\n7. \u201cO Alma Redemptoris Mater,\u201d (\u201cO soul mother of the\r\nRedeemer\u201d) \u2014 the beginning of a hymn to the Virgin.\r\n\r\n8. Antiphonere: A book of anthems, or psalms, chanted in the\r\nchoir by alternate verses.\r\n\r\n9. Souded; confirmed; from French, \u201csoulde;\u201d Latin, \u201csolidatus.\u201d\r\n\r\n10. \u201cAnd they sung as it were a new song before the throne, and\r\nbefore the four beasts, and the elders: and no man could learn\r\nthat song but the hundred and forty and four thousand, which\r\nwere redeemed from the earth.\r\nThese are they which were not defiled with women; for they are\r\nvirgins. These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever he\r\ngoeth. These were redeemed from among men, being the\r\nfirstfruits unto God and to the Lamb.\u201d\r\n\u2014 Revelations xiv. 3, 4.\r\n\r\n11. Freined: asked, inquired; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cfrinan,\u201d\r\n\u201cfraegnian.\u201d Compare German, \u201cfragen.\u201d\r\n\r\n12. Halse:  embrace or salute; implore: from Anglo-Saxon\r\n\u201chals,\u201d the neck.\r\n\r\n14 A boy said to have been slain by the Jews at Lincoln in 1255,\r\naccording to Matthew Paris.  Many popular ballads were made\r\nabout the event, which the diligence of the Church doubtless\r\nkept fresh in mind at Chaucer\u2019s day.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAUCER\u2019S TALE OF SIR THOPAS.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.<1>\r\n\r\nWHEN said was this miracle, every man\r\nAs sober* was, that wonder was to see,                          *serious\r\nTill that our Host to japen* he began,                     *talk lightly\r\nAnd then *at erst* he looked upon me,               *for the first time*\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cWhat man art thou?\u201d quoth he;\r\n\u201cThou lookest as thou wouldest find an hare,\r\nFor ever on the ground I see thee stare.\r\n\r\n\u201cApproache near, and look up merrily.\r\nNow ware you, Sirs, and let this man have place.\r\nHe in the waist is shapen as well as I; <2>\r\nThis were a puppet in an arm t\u2019embrace\r\nFor any woman small and fair of face.\r\nHe seemeth elvish* by his countenance,                    *surly, morose\r\nFor unto no wight doth he dalliance.\r\n\r\n\u201cSay now somewhat, since other folk have said;\r\nTell us a tale of mirth, and that anon.\u201d\r\n\u201cHoste,\u201d quoth I, \u201cbe not evil apaid,*                     *dissatisfied\r\nFor other tale certes can* I none,                                 *know\r\nEut of a rhyme I learned yore* agone.\u201d                             *long\r\n\u201cYea, that is good,\u201d quoth he; \u201cnow shall we hear\r\nSome dainty thing, me thinketh by thy cheer.\u201d*         *expression, mien\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Sir Thopas\r\n\r\n\r\n1. This prologue is interesting, for the picture which it gives of\r\nChaucer himself; riding apart from and indifferent to the rest of\r\nthe pilgrims, with eyes fixed on the ground, and an \u201celvish\u201d,\r\nmorose, or rather self-absorbed air; portly, if not actually stout,\r\nin body; and evidently a man out of the common, as the closing\r\nwords of the Host imply.\r\n\r\n2. Referring to the poet\u2019s corpulency.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE <1>\r\n\r\nThe First Fit*                                                     *part\r\n\r\nListen, lordings, in good intent,\r\nAnd I will tell you verrament*                                    *truly\r\nOf mirth and of solas,*                                 *delight, solace\r\nAll of a knight was fair and gent,*                              *gentle\r\nIn battle and in tournament,\r\nHis name was Sir Thopas.\r\n\r\nY-born he was in far country,\r\nIn Flanders, all beyond the sea,\r\nAt Popering <2> in the place;\r\nHis father was a man full free,\r\nAnd lord he was of that country,\r\nAs it was Godde\u2019s grace. <3>\r\n\r\nSir Thopas was a doughty swain,\r\nWhite was his face as paindemain, <4>\r\nHis lippes red as rose.\r\nHis rode* is like scarlet in grain,                          *complexion\r\nAnd I you tell in good certain\r\nHe had a seemly nose.\r\n\r\nHis hair, his beard, was like saffroun,\r\nThat to his girdle reach\u2019d adown,\r\nHis shoes of cordewane:<5>\r\nOf Bruges were his hosen brown;\r\nHis robe was of ciclatoun,<6>\r\nThat coste many a jane.<7>\r\n\r\nHe coulde hunt at the wild deer,\r\nAnd ride on hawking *for rivere*                          *by the river*\r\nWith gray goshawk on hand: <8>\r\nThereto he was a good archere,\r\nOf wrestling was there none his peer,\r\nWhere any ram <9> should stand.\r\n\r\nFull many a maiden bright in bow\u2019r\r\nThey mourned for him par amour,\r\nWhen them were better sleep;\r\nBut he was chaste, and no lechour,\r\nAnd sweet as is the bramble flow\u2019r\r\nThat beareth the red heep.*                                         *hip\r\n\r\nAnd so it fell upon a day,\r\nFor sooth as I you telle may,\r\nSir Thopas would out ride;\r\nHe worth* upon his steede gray,                                 *mounted\r\nAnd in his hand a launcegay,*                                *spear <10>\r\nA long sword by his side.\r\n\r\nHe pricked through a fair forest,\r\nWherein is many a wilde beast,\r\nYea, bothe buck and hare;\r\nAnd as he pricked north and east,\r\nI tell it you, him had almest                                    *almost\r\nBetid* a sorry care.                                           *befallen\r\n\r\nThere sprange herbes great and small,\r\nThe liquorice and the setewall,*                               *valerian\r\nAnd many a clove-gilofre, <12>\r\nAnd nutemeg to put in ale,\r\nWhether it be moist* or stale,                                      *new\r\nOr for to lay in coffer.\r\n\r\nThe birdes sang, it is no nay,\r\nThe sperhawk* and the popinjay,**             *sparrowhawk **parrot <13>\r\nThat joy it was to hear;\r\nThe throstle-cock made eke his lay,\r\nThe woode-dove upon the spray\r\nShe sang full loud and clear.\r\n\r\nSir Thopas fell in love-longing\r\nAll when he heard the throstle sing,\r\nAnd *prick\u2019d as he were wood;*                            *rode as if he\r\nHis faire steed in his pricking                                were mad*\r\nSo sweated, that men might him wring,\r\nHis sides were all blood.\r\n\r\nSir Thopas eke so weary was\r\nFor pricking on the softe grass,\r\nSo fierce was his corage,*                          *inclination, spirit\r\nThat down he laid him in that place,\r\nTo make his steed some solace,\r\nAnd gave him good forage.\r\n\r\n\u201cAh, Saint Mary, ben\u2019dicite,\r\nWhat aileth thilke* love at me                                     *this\r\nTo binde me so sore?\r\nMe dreamed all this night, pardie,\r\nAn elf-queen shall my leman* be,                               *mistress\r\nAnd sleep under my gore.*                                         *shirt\r\n\r\nAn elf-queen will I love, y-wis,*                             *assuredly\r\nFor in this world no woman is\r\nWorthy to be my make*                                              *mate\r\nIn town;\r\nAll other women I forsake,\r\nAnd to an elf-queen I me take\r\nBy dale and eke by down.\u201d <14>\r\n\r\nInto his saddle he clomb anon,\r\nAnd pricked over stile and stone\r\nAn elf-queen for to spy,\r\nTill he so long had ridden and gone,\r\nThat he found in a privy wonne*                                   *haunt\r\nThe country of Faery,\r\nSo wild;\r\nFor in that country was there none\r\nThat to him durste ride or gon,\r\nNeither wife nor child.\r\n\r\nTill that there came a great giaunt,\r\nHis name was Sir Oliphaunt,<15>\r\nA perilous man of deed;\r\nHe saide, \u201cChild,* by Termagaunt, <16>                        *young man\r\n*But if* thou prick out of mine haunt,                           *unless\r\nAnon I slay thy steed\r\nWith mace.\r\nHere is the Queen of Faery,\r\nWith harp, and pipe, and symphony,\r\nDwelling in this place.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe Child said, \u201cAll so may I the,*                              *thrive\r\nTo-morrow will I meete thee,\r\nWhen I have mine armor;\r\nAnd yet I hope, *par ma fay,*                              *by my faith*\r\nThat thou shalt with this launcegay\r\nAbyen* it full sore;                                         *suffer for\r\nThy maw*                                                          *belly\r\nShall I pierce, if I may,\r\nEre it be fully prime of day,\r\nFor here thou shalt be slaw.\u201d*                                    *slain\r\n\r\nSir Thopas drew aback full fast;\r\nThis giant at him stones cast\r\nOut of a fell staff sling:\r\nBut fair escaped Child Thopas,\r\nAnd all it was through Godde\u2019s grace,\r\nAnd through his fair bearing. <17>\r\n\r\nYet listen, lordings, to my tale,\r\nMerrier than the nightingale,\r\nFor now I will you rown,*                                       *whisper\r\nHow Sir Thopas, with sides smale,*                           *small <18>\r\nPricking over hill and dale,\r\nIs come again to town.\r\n\r\nHis merry men commanded he\r\nTo make him both game and glee;\r\nFor needes must he fight\r\nWith a giant with heades three,\r\nFor paramour and jollity\r\nOf one that shone full bright.\r\n\r\n\u201c*Do come,*\u201d he saide, \u201cmy minstrales                           *summon*\r\nAnd gestours* for to telle tales.                         *story-tellers\r\nAnon in mine arming,\r\nOf romances that be royales, <19>\r\nOf popes and of cardinales,\r\nAnd eke of love-longing.\u201d\r\n\r\nThey fetch\u2019d him first the sweete wine,\r\nAnd mead eke in a maseline,*                              *drinking-bowl\r\nAnd royal spicery;                                    of maple wood <20>\r\nOf ginger-bread that was full fine,\r\nAnd liquorice and eke cumin,\r\nWith sugar that is trie.*                                       *refined\r\n\r\nHe didde,* next his white lere,**                         *put on **skin\r\nOf cloth of lake* fine and clear,                            *fine linen\r\nA breech and eke a shirt;\r\nAnd next his shirt an haketon,*                                 *cassock\r\nAnd over that an habergeon,*                               *coat of mail\r\nFor piercing of his heart;\r\n\r\nAnd over that a fine hauberk,*                             *plate-armour\r\nWas all y-wrought of Jewes\u2019* werk,                           *magicians\u2019\r\nFull strong it was of plate;\r\nAnd over that his coat-armour,*                        *knight\u2019s surcoat\r\nAs white as is the lily flow\u2019r, <21>\r\nIn which he would debate.*                                        *fight\r\n\r\nHis shield was all of gold so red\r\nAnd therein was a boare\u2019s head,\r\nA charboucle* beside;                                    *carbuncle <22>\r\nAnd there he swore on ale and bread,\r\nHow that the giant should be dead,\r\nBetide whatso betide.\r\n\r\nHis jambeaux* were of cuirbouly, <23>                             *boots\r\nHis sworde\u2019s sheath of ivory,\r\nHis helm of latoun* bright,                                       *brass\r\nHis saddle was of rewel <24> bone,\r\nHis bridle as the sunne shone,\r\nOr as the moonelight.\r\n\r\nHis speare was of fine cypress,\r\nThat bodeth war, and nothing peace;\r\nThe head full sharp y-ground.\r\nHis steede was all dapple gray,\r\nIt went an amble in the way\r\nFull softely and round\r\nIn land.\r\n\r\nLo, Lordes mine, here is a fytt;\r\nIf ye will any more of it,\r\nTo tell it will I fand.*                                            *try\r\n\r\nThe Second Fit\r\n\r\nNow hold your mouth for charity,\r\nBothe knight and lady free,\r\nAnd hearken to my spell;*                                     *tale <25>\r\nOf battle and of chivalry,\r\nOf ladies\u2019 love and druerie,*                                 *gallantry\r\nAnon I will you tell.\r\n\r\nMen speak of romances of price*                          * worth, esteem\r\nOf Horn Child, and of Ipotis,\r\nOf Bevis, and Sir Guy, <26>\r\nOf Sir Libeux, <27> and Pleindamour,\r\nBut Sir Thopas, he bears the flow\u2019r\r\nOf royal chivalry.\r\n\r\nHis goode steed he all bestrode,\r\nAnd forth upon his way he glode,*                                 *shone\r\nAs sparkle out of brand;*                                         *torch\r\nUpon his crest he bare a tow\u2019r,\r\nAnd therein stick\u2019d a lily flow\u2019r; <28>\r\nGod shield his corse* from shand!**                         *body **harm\r\n\r\nAnd, for he was a knight auntrous,*                         *adventurous\r\nHe woulde sleepen in none house,\r\nBut liggen* in his hood,                                            *lie\r\nHis brighte helm was his wanger,*                           *pillow <29>\r\nAnd by him baited* his destrer**                       *fed **horse <30>\r\nOf herbes fine and good.\r\n\r\nHimself drank water of the well,\r\nAs did the knight Sir Percivel, <31>\r\nSo worthy under weed;\r\nTill on a day -   .   .   .\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Sir Thopas\r\n\r\n\r\n1. \u201cThe Rhyme of Sir Thopas,\u201d as it is generally called, is\r\nintroduced by Chaucer as a satire on the dull, pompous, and\r\nprolix metrical romances then in vogue. It is full of phrases\r\ntaken from the popular rhymesters in the vein which he holds up\r\nto ridicule; if, indeed \u2014 though of that there is no evidence \u2014 it\r\nbe not actually part of an old romance which Chaucer selected\r\nand reproduced to point his assault on the prevailing taste in\r\nliterature.\r\nTranscriber\u2019s note: The Tale is full of incongruities of every\r\nkind, which Purves does not refer to; I point some of them out\r\nin the notes which follow - marked TN.\r\n\r\n2. Poppering, or Poppeling, a parish in the marches of Calais of\r\nwhich the famous antiquary Leland was once Rector. TN: The\r\ninhabitants of Popering had a reputation for stupidity.\r\n\r\n3. TN: The lord of Popering was the abbot of the local\r\nmonastery - who could, of course, have no legitimate children.\r\n\r\n4. Paindemain: Either \u201cpain de matin,\u201d morning bread, or \u201cpain\r\nde Maine,\u201d because it was made best in that province; a kind of\r\nfine white bread.\r\n\r\n5. Cordewane: Cordovan; fine Spanish leather, so called from\r\nthe name of the city where it was prepared\r\n\r\n6. Ciclatoun: A rich Oriental stuff of silk and gold, of which was\r\nmade the circular robe of state called a \u201cciclaton,\u201d from the\r\nLatin, \u201ccyclas.\u201d The word is French.\r\n\r\n7. Jane: a Genoese coin, of small value; in our old statutes\r\ncalled \u201cgallihalpens,\u201d or galley half-pence.\r\n\r\n8. TN: In Mediaeval falconry the goshawk was not regarded as\r\na fit bird for a knight.  It was the yeoman\u2019s bird.\r\n\r\n9. A ram was the usual prize of wrestling contests. TN:\r\nWrestling and archery were sports of the common people, not\r\nknightly accomplishments.\r\n\r\n10. Launcegay: spear; \u201cazagay\u201d is the name of a Moorish\r\nweapon, and the identity of termination is singular.\r\n\r\n12. Clove-gilofre: clove-gilliflower; \u201cCaryophyllus hortensis.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. TN: The sparrowhawk and parrot can only squawk\r\nunpleasantly.\r\n\r\n14. TN: The sudden and pointless changes in the stanza form\r\nare of course part of Chaucer\u2019s parody.\r\n\r\n15. Sir Oliphaunt: literally, \u201cSir Elephant;\u201d Sir John Mandeville\r\ncalls those animals \u201cOlyfauntes.\u201d\r\n\r\n16. Termagaunt: A pagan or Saracen deity, otherwise named\r\nTervagan, and often mentioned in Middle Age literature. His\r\nname has passed into our language, to denote a ranter or\r\nblusterer, as be was represented to be.\r\n\r\n17. TN: His \u201cfair bearing\u201d would not have been much defence\r\nagainst a sling-stone.\r\n\r\n18. TN: \u201cSides small\u201d: a conventional description for a woman,\r\nnot a man.\r\n\r\n19. Romances that be royal:  so called because they related to\r\nCharlemagne and his family.\r\n\r\n20. TN: A knight would be expected to have a gold or silver\r\ndrinking vessel.\r\n\r\n21. TN: The coat-armour or coat of arms should have had his\r\nheraldic emblems on it, not been pure white\r\n\r\n22. Charboucle:  Carbuncle; French, \u201cescarboucle;\u201d a heraldic\r\ndevice resembling a jewel.\r\n\r\n23. Cuirbouly:  \u201cCuir boulli,\u201d French, boiled or prepared\r\nleather; also used to cover shields, &c.\r\n\r\n24. Rewel bone: No satisfactory explanation has been furnished\r\nof  this word, used to describe some material from which  rich\r\nsaddles were made. TN: The OED defines it as narwhal ivory.\r\n\r\n25. Spell:  Tale, discourse, from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cspellian,\u201d to\r\ndeclare, tell a story.\r\n\r\n26. Sir Bevis of Hampton, and Sir Guy of Warwick, two\r\nknights of great renown.\r\n\r\n27. Libeux:  One of Arthur\u2019s knights, called \u201cLy beau\r\ndesconus,\u201d \u201cthe fair unknown.\u201d\r\n\r\n28. TN: The crest was a small emblem worn on top of a knight\u2019s\r\nhelmet. A tower with a lily stuck in it would have been\r\nunwieldy and absurd.\r\n\r\n29. Wanger:  pillow; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cwangere,\u201d because\r\nthe \u201cwanges;\u201d or cheeks, rested on it.\r\n\r\n30. Destrer:  \u201cdestrier,\u201d French, a war-horse; in Latin,\r\n\u201cdextrarius,\u201d as if led by the right hand.\r\n\r\n31. Sir Percival de Galois, whose adventures were written in\r\nmore than 60,000 verses by Chretien de Troyes, one of the\r\noldest and best French romancers, in 1191.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAUCER\u2019S TALE OF MELIB\u0152US.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\n\u201cNo more of this, for Godde\u2019s dignity!\u201d\r\nQuoth oure Hoste; \u201cfor thou makest me\r\nSo weary of thy very lewedness,*               *stupidity, ignorance <1>\r\nThat, all so wisly* God my soule bless,                          *surely\r\nMine eares ache for thy drafty* speech.                   *worthless <2>\r\nNow such a rhyme the devil I beteche:*                       *commend to\r\nThis may well be rhyme doggerel,\u201d quoth he.\r\n\u201cWhy so?\u201d quoth I; \u201cwhy wilt thou lette* me                     *prevent\r\nMore of my tale than any other man,\r\nSince that it is the best rhyme that I can?\u201d*                      *know\r\n\u201cBy God!\u201d quoth he, \u201cfor, plainly at one word,\r\nThy drafty rhyming is not worth a tord:\r\nThou dost naught elles but dispendest* time.                    *wastest\r\nSir, at one word, thou shalt no longer rhyme.\r\nLet see whether thou canst tellen aught *in gest,*            *by way of\r\nOr tell in prose somewhat, at the least,                      narrative*\r\nIn which there be some mirth or some doctrine.\u201d\r\n\u201cGladly,\u201d quoth I, \u201cby Godde\u2019s sweete pine,*                  *suffering\r\nI will you tell a little thing in prose,\r\nThat oughte like* you, as I suppose,                             *please\r\nOr else certes ye be too dangerous.*                         *fastidious\r\nIt is a moral tale virtuous,\r\n*All be it* told sometimes in sundry wise               *although it be*\r\nBy sundry folk, as I shall you devise.\r\nAs thus, ye wot that ev\u2019ry Evangelist,\r\nThat telleth us the pain* of Jesus Christ,                      *passion\r\nHe saith not all thing as his fellow doth;\r\nBut natheless their sentence is all soth,*                         *true\r\nAnd all accorden as in their sentence,*                         *meaning\r\nAll be there in their telling difference;\r\nFor some of them say more, and some say less,\r\nWhen they his piteous passion express;\r\nI mean of Mark and Matthew, Luke and John;\r\nBut doubteless their sentence is all one.\r\nTherefore, lordinges all, I you beseech,\r\nIf that ye think I vary in my speech,\r\nAs thus, though that I telle somedeal more\r\nOf proverbes, than ye have heard before\r\nComprehended in this little treatise here,\r\n*T\u2019enforce with* the effect of my mattere,                *with which to\r\nAnd though I not the same wordes say                            enforce*\r\nAs ye have heard, yet to you all I pray\r\nBlame me not; for as in my sentence\r\nShall ye nowhere finde no difference\r\nFrom the sentence of thilke* treatise lite,**             *this **little\r\nAfter the which this merry tale I write.\r\nAnd therefore hearken to what I shall say,\r\nAnd let me tellen all my tale, I pray.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Melib\u0153us.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Chaucer crowns the satire on the romanticists by making the\r\nvery landlord of the Tabard cry out in indignant disgust against\r\nthe stuff which he had heard recited \u2014 the good Host ascribing\r\nto sheer ignorance the string of pompous platitudes and prosaic\r\ndetails which Chaucer had uttered.\r\n\r\n2. Drafty:  worthless, vile; no better than draff or dregs; from\r\nthe Anglo-Saxon, \u201cdrifan\u201d to drive away, expel.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.<1>\r\n\r\nA young man called Melib\u0153us, mighty and rich, begat upon his\r\nwife, that called was Prudence, a daughter which that called was\r\nSophia. Upon a day befell, that he for his disport went into the\r\nfields him to play.  His wife and eke his daughter hath he left\r\nwithin his house, of which the doors were fast shut. Three of his\r\nold foes have it espied, and set ladders to the walls of his house,\r\nand by the windows be entered, and beaten his wife, and\r\nwounded his daughter with five mortal wounds, in five sundry\r\nplaces; that is to say, in her feet, in her hands, in her ears, in her\r\nnose, and in her mouth; and left her for dead, and went away.\r\nWhen Melib\u0153us returned was into his house, and saw all this\r\nmischief, he, like a man mad, rending his clothes, gan weep and\r\ncry. Prudence his wife, as farforth as she durst, besought him of\r\nhis weeping for to stint: but not forthy [notwithstanding] he gan\r\nto weep and cry ever longer the more.\r\n\r\nThis noble wife Prudence remembered her upon the sentence of\r\nOvid, in his book that called is the \u201cRemedy of Love,\u201d <2>\r\nwhere he saith: He is a fool that disturbeth the mother to weep\r\nin the death of her child, till she have wept her fill, as for a\r\ncertain time; and then shall a man do his diligence with amiable\r\nwords her to recomfort and pray her of her weeping for to stint\r\n[cease]. For which reason this noble wife Prudence suffered her\r\nhusband for to weep and cry, as for a certain space; and when\r\nshe saw her time, she said to him in this wise: \u201cAlas! my lord,\u201d\r\nquoth she, \u201cwhy make ye yourself for to be like a fool? For\r\nsooth it appertaineth not to a wise man to make such a sorrow.\r\nYour daughter, with the grace of God, shall warish [be cured]\r\nand escape. And all [although] were it so that she right now\r\nwere dead, ye ought not for her death yourself to destroy.\r\nSeneca saith, \u2018The wise man shall not take too great discomfort\r\nfor the death of his children, but certes he should suffer it in\r\npatience, as well as he abideth the death of his own proper\r\nperson.\u2019\u201d\r\n\r\nMelib\u0153us answered anon and said: \u201cWhat man,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cshould of his weeping stint, that hath so great a cause to weep?\r\nJesus Christ, our Lord, himself wept for the death of Lazarus\r\nhis friend.\u201d  Prudence answered, \u201cCertes, well I wot,\r\nattempered [moderate] weeping is nothing defended [forbidden]\r\nto him that sorrowful is, among folk in sorrow but it is rather\r\ngranted him to weep.  The Apostle Paul unto the Romans\r\nwriteth, \u2018Man shall rejoice with them that make joy, and weep\r\nwith such folk as weep.\u2019  But though temperate weeping be\r\ngranted, outrageous weeping certes is defended. Measure of\r\nweeping should be conserved,  after the lore [doctrine] that\r\nteacheth us Seneca.  \u2018When that thy friend is dead,\u2019 quoth he, \u2018let\r\nnot thine eyes too moist be of tears, nor too much dry: although\r\nthe tears come to thine eyes, let them not fall.  And when thou\r\nhast forgone [lost] thy friend, do diligence to get again another\r\nfriend: and this is more wisdom than to weep for thy friend\r\nwhich that thou hast lorn [lost] for therein is no boot\r\n[advantage].  And therefore if ye govern you by sapience, put\r\naway sorrow out of your heart. Remember you that Jesus\r\nSirach saith, \u2018A man that is joyous and glad in heart, it him\r\nconserveth flourishing in his age: but soothly a sorrowful heart\r\nmaketh his bones dry.\u2019  He said eke thus, \u2018that sorrow in heart\r\nslayth full many a man.\u2019 Solomon  saith \u2018that right as moths in\r\nthe sheep\u2019s fleece annoy [do injury] to the clothes, and the small\r\nworms to the tree, right so annoyeth sorrow to the heart of\r\nman.\u2019 Wherefore us ought as well in the death of our children,\r\nas in the loss of our goods temporal, have patience. Remember\r\nyou upon the patient Job, when he had lost his children and his\r\ntemporal substance, and in his body endured and received full\r\nmany a grievous tribulation, yet said he thus: \u2018Our Lord hath\r\ngiven it to me, our Lord hath bereft it me; right as our Lord\r\nwould, right so be it done; blessed be the name of our Lord.\u201d\u2019\r\n\r\nTo these foresaid things answered Melib\u0153us unto his wife\r\nPrudence: \u201cAll thy words,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbe true, and thereto\r\n[also] profitable, but truly mine heart is troubled with this\r\nsorrow so grievously, that I know not what to do.\u201d  \u201cLet call,\u201d\r\nquoth Prudence, \u201cthy true friends all, and thy lineage, which be\r\nwise, and tell to them your case, and hearken what they say in\r\ncounselling, and govern you after their sentence [opinion].\r\nSolomon saith, \u2018Work all things by counsel, and thou shall never\r\nrepent.\u2019\u201d Then, by counsel of his wife Prudence, this Melib\u0153us\r\nlet call [sent for] a great congregation of folk, as surgeons,\r\nphysicians, old folk and young, and some of his old enemies\r\nreconciled (as by their semblance) to his love and to his grace;\r\nand therewithal there come some of his neighbours, that did him\r\nreverence more for dread than for love, as happeneth oft. There\r\ncome also full many subtle flatterers, and wise advocates\r\nlearned in the law. And when these folk together assembled\r\nwere, this Melib\u0153us in sorrowful wise showed them his case,\r\nand by the manner of his speech it seemed that in heart he bare\r\na cruel ire, ready to do vengeance upon his foes, and suddenly\r\ndesired that the war should begin, but nevertheless yet asked he\r\ntheir counsel in this matter. A surgeon, by licence and assent of\r\nsuch as were wise, up rose, and to Melib\u0153us said as ye may\r\nhear.  \u201cSir,\u201d quoth he, \u201cas to us surgeons appertaineth, that we\r\ndo to every wight the best that we can, where as we be\r\nwithholden, [employed] and to our patient that we do no\r\ndamage; wherefore it happeneth many a time and oft, that when\r\ntwo men have wounded each other, one same surgeon healeth\r\nthem both; wherefore unto our art it is not pertinent to nurse\r\nwar, nor parties to support [take sides].  But certes, as to the\r\nwarishing [healing] of your daughter, albeit so that perilously\r\nshe be wounded, we shall do so attentive business from day to\r\nnight, that, with the grace of God, she shall be whole and\r\nsound, as soon as is possible.\u201d Almost right in the same wise the\r\nphysicians answered, save that they said a few words more: that\r\nright as maladies be cured by their contraries, right so shall man\r\nwarish war (by peace). His neighbours full of envy, his feigned\r\nfriends that seemed reconciled, and his flatterers, made\r\nsemblance of weeping, and impaired and agregged [aggravated]\r\nmuch of this matter, in praising greatly Melib\u0153us of might, of\r\npower, of riches, and of friends, despising the power of his\r\nadversaries: and said utterly, that he anon should wreak him on\r\nhis foes, and begin war.\r\n\r\nUp rose then an advocate that was wise, by leave and by\r\ncounsel of other that were wise, and said, \u201cLordings, the need\r\n[business] for which we be assembled in this place, is a full\r\nheavy thing, and an high matter, because of the wrong and of\r\nthe wickedness that hath been done, and eke by reason of the\r\ngreat damages that in time coming be possible to fall for the\r\nsame cause, and eke by reason of the great riches and power of\r\nthe parties both; for which reasons, it were a full great peril to\r\nerr in this matter. Wherefore, Melib\u0153us, this is our sentence\r\n[opinion]; we counsel you, above all things, that right anon thou\r\ndo thy diligence in keeping of thy body, in such a wise that thou\r\nwant no espy  nor watch thy body to save. And after that, we\r\ncounsel that in thine house thou set sufficient garrison, so that\r\nthey may as well thy body as thy house defend. But, certes, to\r\nmove war or suddenly to do vengeance, we may not deem\r\n[judge] in so little time that it were profitable. Wherefore we\r\nask leisure and space to have deliberation in this case to deem;\r\nfor the common proverb saith thus; \u2018He that soon deemeth soon\r\nshall repent.\u2019 And eke men say, that that judge is wise, that soon\r\nunderstandeth a matter, and judgeth by leisure. For albeit so\r\nthat all tarrying be annoying, algates [nevertheless] it is no\r\nreproof [subject for reproach] in giving of judgement, nor in\r\nvengeance taking, when it is sufficient and, reasonable.  And\r\nthat shewed our Lord Jesus Christ by example; for when that\r\nthe woman that was taken in adultery was brought in his\r\npresence to know what should be done with her person, albeit\r\nthat he wist well himself what he would answer, yet would he\r\nnot answer suddenly, but he would have deliberation, and in the\r\nground he wrote twice. And by these causes we ask deliberation\r\nand we shall then by the grace of God counsel the thing that\r\nshall be profitable.\u201d\r\n\r\nUp started then the young folk anon at once, and the most part\r\nof that company have scorned these old wise men and begun to\r\nmake noise and said, \u201cRight as while that iron is hot men should\r\nsmite, right so men should wreak their wrongs while that they\r\nbe fresh and new:\u201d  and with loud voice they cried. \u201cWar! War!\u201d\r\nUp rose then one of these old wise, and with his hand made\r\ncountenance [a sign, gesture] that men should hold them still,\r\nand give him audience. \u201cLordings,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthere is full many\r\na man that crieth, \u2018War! war!\u2019 that wot full little what war\r\namounteth.  War at his beginning hath so great an entering and\r\nso large, that every wight may enter when him liketh, and lightly\r\n[easily] find war: but certes what end shall fall thereof it is not\r\nlight to know. For soothly when war is once begun, there is full\r\nmany a child unborn of his mother, that shall sterve [die] young\r\nby cause of that war, or else live in sorrow and die in\r\nwretchedness; and therefore, ere that any war be begun, men\r\nmust have great counsel and great deliberation.\u201d  And when this\r\nold man weened [thought, intended] to enforce his tale by\r\nreasons, well-nigh all at once began they to rise for to break his\r\ntale, and bid him full oft his words abridge. For soothly he that\r\npreacheth to them that list not hear his words, his sermon them\r\nannoyeth. For Jesus Sirach saith, that music in weeping is a\r\nnoyous [troublesome] thing.  This is to say, as much availeth to\r\nspeak before folk to whom his speech annoyeth, as to sing\r\nbefore him that weepeth.  And when this wise man saw that him\r\nwanted audience, all shamefast he sat him down again.  For\r\nSolomon saith, \u2018Where as thou mayest have no audience,\r\nenforce thee not to speak.\u2019  \u201cI  see well,\u201d quoth this wise man,\r\n\u201cthat the common proverb is sooth, that good counsel wanteth,\r\nwhen it is most need.\u201d Yet [besides, further] had this Melib\u0153us\r\nin his council many folk, that privily in his ear counselled him\r\ncertain thing, and counselled him the contrary in general\r\naudience. When Melib\u0153us had heard that the greatest part of\r\nhis council were accorded [in agreement] that he should make\r\nwar, anon he consented to their counselling, and fully affirmed\r\ntheir sentence [opinion, judgement].\r\n\r\n(Dame Prudence, seeing her husband\u2019s resolution thus taken, in\r\nfull humble wise, when she saw her time, begins to counsel him\r\nagainst war, by a warning against haste in requital of either\r\ngood or evil.  Melib\u0153us tells her that he will not work by her\r\ncounsel, because he should be held a fool if he rejected for her\r\nadvice the opinion of so many wise men; because all women are\r\nbad; because it would seem that he had given her the mastery\r\nover him; and because she could not keep his secret, if he\r\nresolved to follow her advice. To these reasons Prudence\r\nanswers that it is no folly to change counsel when things, or\r\nmen\u2019s judgements of them, change \u2014 especially to alter a\r\nresolution taken on the impulse of a great multitude of folk,\r\nwhere every man crieth and clattereth what him liketh; that if all\r\nwomen had been wicked, Jesus Christ would never have\r\ndescended to be born of a woman, nor have showed himself\r\nfirst to a woman after his resurrection and that when Solomon\r\nsaid he had found no good woman, he meant that God alone\r\nwas supremely good; <3> that her husband would not seem to\r\ngive her the mastery by following her counsel, for he had his\r\nown free choice in following or rejecting it; and that he knew\r\nwell and had often tested her great silence, patience, and\r\nsecrecy. And whereas he had quoted a saying, that in wicked\r\ncounsel women vanquish men, she reminds him that she would\r\ncounsel him against doing a wickedness on which he had set his\r\nmind, and cites instances to show that many women have been\r\nand yet are full good, and their counsel wholesome and\r\nprofitable. Lastly, she quotes the words of God himself, when\r\nhe was about to make woman as an help meet for man; and\r\npromises that, if her husband will trust her counsel, she will\r\nrestore to him his daughter whole and sound, and make him\r\nhave honour in this case.  Melib\u0153us answers that because of his\r\nwife\u2019s sweet words, and also because he has proved and assayed\r\nher great wisdom and her great truth, he will govern him by her\r\ncounsel in all things. Thus encouraged, Prudence enters on a\r\nlong discourse, full of learned citations, regarding the manner in\r\nwhich counsellors should be chosen and consulted, and the\r\ntimes and reasons for changing a counsel. First, God must be\r\nbesought for guidance. Then a man must well examine his own\r\nthoughts, of such things as he holds to be best for his own\r\nprofit; driving out of his heart anger, covetousness, and\r\nhastiness, which perturb and pervert the judgement. Then he\r\nmust keep his counsel secret, unless confiding it to another shall\r\nbe more profitable; but, in so confiding it, he shall say nothing\r\nto bias the mind of the counsellor toward flattery or\r\nsubserviency. After that he should consider his friends and his\r\nenemies, choosing of the former such as be most faithful and\r\nwise, and eldest and most approved in counselling; and even of\r\nthese only a few. Then he must eschew the counselling of fools,\r\nof flatterers, of his old enemies that be reconciled, of servants\r\nwho bear him great reverence and fear, of folk that be drunken\r\nand can hide no counsel, of such as counsel one thing privily\r\nand the contrary openly; and of young folk, for their counselling\r\nis not ripe. Then, in examining his counsel, he must truly tell his\r\ntale; he must consider whether the thing he proposes to do be\r\nreasonable, within his power, and acceptable to the more part\r\nand the better part of his counsellors; he must look at the things\r\nthat may follow from that counselling, choosing the best and\r\nwaiving all besides; he must consider the root whence the\r\nmatter of his counsel is engendered, what  fruits it may bear,\r\nand from what causes they be sprung.  And having thus\r\nexamined his counsel and approved it by many wise folk and\r\nold, he shall consider if he may perform it and make of it a good\r\nend; if he be in doubt, he shall choose rather to suffer than to\r\nbegin; but otherwise he shall prosecute his resolution steadfastly\r\ntill the enterprise be at an end. As to changing his counsel, a\r\nman may do so without reproach, if the cause cease, or when a\r\nnew case betides, or if he find that by error or otherwise harm\r\nor damage may result, or if his counsel be dishonest or come of\r\ndishonest cause, or if it be impossible or may not properly be\r\nkept; and he must take it for a general rule, that every counsel\r\nwhich is affirmed so strongly, that it may not be changed for\r\nany condition that may betide, that counsel is wicked.\r\nMelib\u0153us, admitting that his wife had spoken well and suitably\r\nas to counsellors and counsel in general, prays her to tell him in\r\nespecial what she thinks of the counsellors whom they have\r\nchosen in their present need. Prudence replies that his counsel in\r\nthis case could not properly be called a counselling, but a\r\nmovement of folly; and points out that he has erred in sundry\r\nwise against the rules which he had just laid down. Granting\r\nthat he has erred, Melib\u0153us says that he is all ready to change\r\nhis counsel right as she will devise; for, as the proverb runs, to\r\ndo sin is human, but to persevere long in sin is work of the\r\nDevil. Prudence then minutely recites, analyses, and criticises\r\nthe counsel given to her husband in the assembly of his friends.\r\nShe commends the advice of the physicians and surgeons, and\r\nurges that they should be well rewarded for their noble speech\r\nand their services in healing Sophia; and she asks Melib\u0153us\r\nhow he understands their proposition that one contrary must be\r\ncured by another contrary. Melib\u0153us answers, that he should\r\ndo vengeance on his enemies, who had done him wrong.\r\nPrudence, however, insists that vengeance is not the contrary of\r\nvengeance, nor wrong of wrong, but the like; and that\r\nwickedness should be healed by goodness, discord by accord,\r\nwar by peace.  She proceeds to deal with the counsel of the\r\nlawyers and wise folk that advised Melib\u0153us to take prudent\r\nmeasures for the security of his body and of his house. First, she\r\nwould have her husband pray for the protection and aid of\r\nChrist; then commit the keeping of his person to his true\r\nfriends; then suspect and avoid all strange folk, and liars, and\r\nsuch people as she had already warned him against; then beware\r\nof presuming on his strength, or the weakness of his adversary,\r\nand neglecting to guard his person \u2014 for every wise man\r\ndreadeth his enemy; then he should evermore be on the watch\r\nagainst ambush and all espial, even in what seems a place of\r\nsafety; though he should not be so cowardly, as to fear where is\r\nno cause for dread; yet he should dread to be poisoned, and\r\ntherefore shun scorners, and fly their words as venom.  As to\r\nthe fortification of his house, she points out that towers and\r\ngreat edifices are costly and laborious, yet useless unless\r\ndefended by true friends that be old and wise; and the greatest\r\nand strongest garrison that a rich man may have, as well to keep\r\nhis person as his goods, is, that he be beloved by his subjects\r\nand by his neighbours. Warmly approving the counsel that in all\r\nthis business Melib\u0153us should proceed with great diligence and\r\ndeliberation, Prudence goes on to examine the advice given by\r\nhis neighbours that do him reverence without love, his old\r\nenemies reconciled, his flatterers that counselled him certain\r\nthings privily and openly counselled him the contrary, and the\r\nyoung folk that counselled him to avenge himself and make war\r\nat once.  She reminds him that he stands alone against three\r\npowerful enemies, whose kindred are numerous and close,\r\nwhile his are fewer and remote in relationship; that only the\r\njudge who has jurisdiction in a case may take sudden vengeance\r\non any man; that her husband\u2019s power does not accord with his\r\ndesire; and that, if he did take vengeance, it would only breed\r\nfresh wrongs and contests. As to the causes of the wrong done\r\nto him, she holds that God, the causer of all things, has\r\npermitted him to suffer because he has drunk so much honey\r\n<4> of sweet temporal riches, and delights, and honours of this\r\nworld, that he is drunken, and has forgotten Jesus Christ his\r\nSaviour; the three enemies of mankind, the flesh, the fiend, and\r\nthe world, have entered his heart by the windows of his body,\r\nand wounded his soul in five places \u2014 that is to say, the deadly\r\nsins that have entered into his heart by the five senses; and in\r\nthe same manner Christ has suffered his three enemies to enter\r\nhis house by the windows, and wound his daughter in the five\r\nplaces before specified. Melib\u0153us demurs, that if his wife\u2019s\r\nobjections prevailed, vengeance would never be taken, and\r\nthence great mischiefs would arise; but Prudence replies that the\r\ntaking of vengeance lies with the judges, to whom the private\r\nindividual must have recourse.  Melib\u0153us declares that such\r\nvengeance does not please him, and that, as Fortune has\r\nnourished and helped him from his childhood, he will now assay\r\nher, trusting, with God\u2019s help, that she will aid him to avenge his\r\nshame. Prudence warns him against trusting to Fortune, all the\r\nless because she has hitherto favoured him, for just on that\r\naccount she is the more likely to fail him; and she calls on him\r\nto leave his vengeance with the Sovereign Judge, that avengeth\r\nall villainies and wrongs. Melib\u0153us argues that if he refrains\r\nfrom taking vengeance he will invite his enemies to do him\r\nfurther wrong, and he will be put and held over low; but\r\nPrudence contends that such a result can be brought about only\r\nby the neglect of the judges, not by the patience of the\r\nindividual.  Supposing that he had leave to avenge himself, she\r\nrepeats that he is not strong enough, and quotes the common\r\nsaw, that it is madness for a man to strive with a stronger than\r\nhimself, peril to strive with one of equal strength, and folly to\r\nstrive with a weaker. But, considering his own defaults and\r\ndemerits, \u2014 remembering the patience of Christ and the\r\nundeserved tribulations of the saints, the brevity of this life with\r\nall its trouble and sorrow, the discredit thrown on the wisdom\r\nand training of  a man who cannot bear wrong with patience \u2014\r\nhe should refrain wholly from taking vengeance. Melib\u0153us\r\nsubmits that he is not at all a perfect man, and his heart will\r\nnever be at peace until he is avenged; and that as his enemies\r\ndisregarded the peril when they attacked him, so he might,\r\nwithout reproach, incur some peril in attacking them in return,\r\neven though he did a great excess in avenging one wrong by\r\nanother. Prudence strongly deprecates all outrage or excess; but\r\nMelib\u0153us insists that he cannot see that it might greatly harm\r\nhim though he took a vengeance, for he is richer and mightier\r\nthan his enemies, and all things obey money. Prudence\r\nthereupon launches into a long dissertation on the advantages of\r\nriches, the evils of poverty, the means by which wealth should\r\nbe gathered, and the manner in which it should be used; and\r\nconcludes by counselling her husband not to move war and\r\nbattle through trust in his riches, for they suffice not to maintain\r\nwar, the battle is not always to the strong or the numerous, and\r\nthe perils of conflict are many. Melib\u0153us then curtly asks her\r\nfor her counsel how he shall do in this need; and she answers\r\nthat certainly she counsels him to agree with his adversaries and\r\nhave peace with them. Melib\u0153us on this cries out that plainly\r\nshe loves not his honour or his worship, in counselling him to\r\ngo and humble himself before his enemies, crying mercy to them\r\nthat, having done him so grievous wrong, ask him not to be\r\nreconciled. Then Prudence, making semblance of wrath, retorts\r\nthat she loves his honour and profit as she loves her own, and\r\never has done; she cites the Scriptures in support of her counsel\r\nto seek peace; and says she will leave him to his own courses,\r\nfor she knows well he is so stubborn, that he will do nothing for\r\nher. Melib\u0153us then relents; admits that he is angry and cannot\r\njudge aright; and puts himself wholly in her hands, promising to\r\ndo just as she desires, and admitting that he is the more held to\r\nlove and praise her, if she reproves him of his folly)\r\n\r\nThen Dame Prudence discovered all her counsel and her will\r\nunto him, and said: \u201cI counsel you,\u201d quoth she, \u201cabove all\r\nthings, that ye make peace between God and you, and be\r\nreconciled unto Him and to his grace; for, as I have said to you\r\nherebefore, God hath suffered you to have this tribulation and\r\ndisease [distress, trouble] for your sins; and if ye do as I say\r\nyou, God will send your adversaries unto you, and make them\r\nfall at your feet, ready to do your will and your commandment.\r\nFor Solomon saith, \u2018When the condition of man is pleasant and\r\nliking to God, he changeth the hearts of the man\u2019s adversaries,\r\nand constraineth them to beseech him of peace of grace.\u2019  And I\r\npray you let me speak with your adversaries in privy place, for\r\nthey shall not know it is by your will or your assent; and then,\r\nwhen I know their will and their intent, I may counsel you the\r\nmore surely.\u201d \u2018\u201cDame,\u201d quoth Melib\u0153us, \u2018\u201cdo your will and\r\nyour liking, for I put me wholly in your disposition and\r\nordinance.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen Dame Prudence, when she saw the goodwill of her\r\nhusband, deliberated and took advice in herself, thinking how\r\nshe might bring this need [affair, emergency] unto a good end.\r\nAnd when she saw her time, she sent for these adversaries to\r\ncome into her into a privy place, and showed wisely into them\r\nthe great goods that come of peace, and the great harms and\r\nperils that be in war; and said to them, in goodly manner, how\r\nthat they ought have great repentance of the injuries and\r\nwrongs that they had done to Melib\u0153us her Lord, and unto her\r\nand her daughter.  And when they heard the goodly words of\r\nDame Prudence, then they were surprised and ravished, and had\r\nso great joy of her, that wonder was to tell.  \u201cAh lady!\u201d quoth\r\nthey, \u201cye have showed unto us the blessing of sweetness, after\r\nthe saying of David the prophet; for the reconciling which we\r\nbe not worthy to have in no manner, but we ought require it\r\nwith great contrition and humility, ye of your great goodness\r\nhave presented unto us. Now see we well, that the science and\r\nconning [knowledge] of Solomon is full true; for he saith, that\r\nsweet words multiply and increase friends, and make shrews\r\n[the ill-natured or angry] to be debonair [gentle, courteous] and\r\nmeek.  Certes we put our deed, and all our matter and cause, all\r\nwholly in your goodwill, and be ready to obey unto the speech\r\nand commandment of my lord Melib\u0153us. And therefore, dear\r\nand benign lady, we pray you and beseech you as meekly as we\r\ncan and may, that it like unto your great goodness to fulfil in\r\ndeed your goodly words. For we consider and acknowledge\r\nthat we have offended and grieved my lord Melib\u0153us out of\r\nmeasure, so far forth that we be not of power to make him\r\namends; and therefore we oblige and bind us and our friends to\r\ndo all his will and his commandment. But peradventure he hath\r\nsuch heaviness and such wrath to usward, [towards us] because\r\nof our offence, that he will enjoin us such a pain [penalty] as we\r\nmay not bear nor sustain; and therefore, noble lady, we beseech\r\nto your womanly pity to take such advisement [consideration]\r\nin this need, that we, nor our friends, be not disinherited and\r\ndestroyed through our folly.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cCertes,\u201d quoth Prudence, \u201cit is an hard thing, and right\r\nperilous, that a man put him all utterly in the arbitration and\r\njudgement and in the might and power of his enemy. For\r\nSolomon saith, \u2018Believe me, and give credence to that that I\r\nshall say: to thy son, to thy wife, to thy friend, nor to thy\r\nbrother, give thou never might nor mastery over thy body, while\r\nthou livest.\u2019  Now, since he defendeth [forbiddeth] that a man\r\nshould not give to his brother, nor to his friend, the might of his\r\nbody, by a stronger reason he defendeth and forbiddeth a man\r\nto give himself to his enemy. And nevertheless, I counsel you\r\nthat ye mistrust not my lord: for I wot well and know verily,\r\nthat he is debonair and meek, large, courteous and nothing\r\ndesirous nor envious of good nor riches: for there is nothing in\r\nthis world that he desireth save only worship and honour.\r\nFurthermore I know well, and am right sure, that he shall\r\nnothing do in this need without counsel of me; and I shall so\r\nwork in this case, that by the grace of our Lord God ye shall be\r\nreconciled unto us.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen said they with one voice, \u201cWorshipful lady, we put us\r\nand our goods all fully in your will and disposition, and be ready\r\nto come, what day that it like unto your nobleness to limit us or\r\nassign us, for to make our obligation and bond, as strong as it\r\nliketh unto your goodness, that we may fulfil the will of you and\r\nof my lord Melib\u0153us.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen Dame Prudence had heard the answer of these men, she\r\nbade them go again privily, and she returned to her lord\r\nMelib\u0153us, and told him how she found his adversaries full\r\nrepentant, acknowledging full lowly their sins and trespasses,\r\nand how they were ready to suffer all pain, requiring and\r\npraying him of mercy and pity. Then said Melib\u0153us, \u201cHe is well\r\nworthy to have pardon and forgiveness of his sin, that excuseth\r\nnot his sin, but acknowledgeth, and repenteth him, asking\r\nindulgence.  For Seneca saith, \u2018There is the remission and\r\nforgiveness, where the confession is; for confession is neighbour\r\nto innocence.\u2019 And therefore I assent and confirm me to have\r\npeace, but it is good that we do naught without the assent and\r\nwill of our friends.\u201d Then was Prudence right glad and joyful,\r\nand said, \u201cCertes, Sir, ye be well and goodly advised; for right\r\nas by the counsel, assent, and help of your friends ye have been\r\nstirred to avenge you and make war, right so without their\r\ncounsel shall ye not accord you, nor have peace with your\r\nadversaries. For the law saith, \u2018There is nothing so good by way\r\nof kind, [nature] as a thing to be unbound by him that it was\r\nbound.\u2019\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd then Dame Prudence, without delay or tarrying, sent anon\r\nher messengers for their kin and for their old friends, which\r\nwere true and wise; and told them by order, in the presence of\r\nMelib\u0153us, all this matter, as it is above expressed and declared;\r\nand prayed them that they would give their advice and counsel\r\nwhat were best to do in this need. And when Melib\u0153us\u2019 friends\r\nhad taken their advice and deliberation of the foresaid matter,\r\nand had examined it by great business and great diligence, they\r\ngave full counsel for to have peace and rest, and that Melib\u0153us\r\nshould with good heart receive his adversaries to forgiveness\r\nand mercy. And when Dame Prudence had heard the assent of\r\nher lord Melib\u0153us, and the counsel of his friends, accord with\r\nher will and her intention, she was wondrous glad in her heart,\r\nand said: \u201cThere is an old proverb that saith, \u2018The goodness that\r\nthou mayest do this day, do it, and abide not nor delay it not till\r\nto-morrow:\u2019 and therefore I counsel you that ye send your\r\nmessengers, such as be discreet and wise, unto your adversaries,\r\ntelling them on your behalf, that if they will treat of peace and\r\nof accord, that they shape [prepare] them, without delay or\r\ntarrying, to come unto us.\u201d Which thing performed was indeed.\r\nAnd when these trespassers and repenting folk of their follies,\r\nthat is to say, the adversaries of Melib\u0153us, had heard what\r\nthese messengers said unto them, they were right glad and\r\njoyful, and answered full meekly and benignly, yielding graces\r\nand thanks to their lord Melib\u0153us, and to all his company; and\r\nshaped them without delay to go with the messengers, and obey\r\nto the commandment of their lord Melib\u0153us.  And right anon\r\nthey took their way to the court of Melib\u0153us, and took with\r\nthem some of their true friends, to make faith for them, and for\r\nto be their borrows [sureties].\r\n\r\nAnd when they were come to the presence of Melib\u0153us, he\r\nsaid to them these words; \u201cIt stands thus,\u201d quoth Melib\u0153us,\r\n\u201cand sooth it is, that ye causeless, and without skill and reason,\r\nhave done great injuries and wrongs to me, and to my wife\r\nPrudence, and to my daughter also; for ye have entered into my\r\nhouse by violence, and have done such outrage, that all men\r\nknow well that ye have deserved the death: and therefore will I\r\nknow and weet of you, whether ye will put the punishing and\r\nchastising, and the vengeance of this outrage, in the will of me\r\nand of my wife, or ye will not?\u201d Then the wisest of them three\r\nanswered for them all, and said; \u201cSir,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwe know well,\r\nthat we be I unworthy to come to the court of so great a lord\r\nand so worthy as ye be, for we have so greatly mistaken us, and\r\nhave offended and aguilt [incurred guilt] in such wise against\r\nyour high lordship, that truly we have deserved the death. But\r\nyet for the great goodness and debonairte [courtesy, gentleness]\r\nthat all the world witnesseth of your person, we submit us to\r\nthe excellence and benignity of your gracious lordship, and be\r\nready to obey to all your commandments, beseeching you, that\r\nof your  merciable [merciful] pity ye will consider our great\r\nrepentance and low submission, and grant us forgiveness of our\r\noutrageous trespass and offence; for well we know, that your\r\nliberal grace and mercy stretch them farther into goodness, than\r\ndo our outrageous guilt and trespass into wickedness; albeit that\r\ncursedly [wickedly] and damnably we have aguilt [incurred\r\nguilt] against your high lordship.\u201d Then Melib\u0153us took them\r\nup from the ground full benignly, and received their obligations\r\nand their bonds, by their oaths upon their pledges and borrows,\r\n[sureties] and assigned them a certain day to return unto his\r\ncourt for to receive and accept sentence and judgement, that\r\nMelib\u0153us would command to be done on them, by the causes\r\naforesaid; which things ordained, every man returned home to\r\nhis house.\r\n\r\nAnd when that Dame Prudence saw her time she freined\r\n[inquired] and asked her lord Melib\u0153us, what vengeance he\r\nthought to take of his adversaries. To which Melib\u0153us\r\nanswered, and said; \u201cCertes,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI think and purpose me\r\nfully to disinherit them of all that ever they have, and for to put\r\nthem in exile for evermore.\u201d \u201cCertes,\u201d quoth Dame Prudence,\r\n\u201cthis were a cruel sentence, and much against reason. For ye be\r\nrich enough, and have no need of other men\u2019s goods; and ye\r\nmight lightly [easily] in this wise get you a covetous name,\r\nwhich is a vicious thing, and ought to be eschewed of every\r\ngood man: for, after the saying of the Apostle, covetousness is\r\nroot of all harms. And therefore it were better for you to lose\r\nmuch good of your own, than for to take of their good in this\r\nmanner. For better it is to lose good with worship [honour],\r\nthan to win good with villainy and shame. And every man ought\r\nto do his diligence and his business to get him a good name.\r\nAnd yet [further] shall he not only busy him in keeping his good\r\nname, but he shall also enforce him alway to do some thing by\r\nwhich he may renew his good name; for it is written, that the\r\nold good los [reputation <5>] of a man is soon gone and\r\npassed, when it is not renewed.  And as touching that ye say,\r\nthat ye will exile your adversaries, that thinketh ye much against\r\nreason, and out of measure, [moderation] considered the power\r\nthat they have given you upon themselves. And it is written,\r\nthat he is worthy to lose his privilege, that misuseth the might\r\nand the power that is given him.  And I set case [if I assume] ye\r\nmight enjoin them that pain by right and by law (which I trow\r\nye may not do), I say, ye might not put it to execution\r\nperadventure, and then it were like to return to the war, as it\r\nwas before.  And therefore if ye will that men do you obeisance,\r\nye must deem [decide] more courteously, that is to say, ye must\r\ngive more easy sentences and judgements. For it is written, \u2018He\r\nthat most courteously commandeth, to him men most obey.\u2019\r\nAnd therefore I pray you, that in this necessity and in this need\r\nye cast you [endeavour, devise a way] to overcome your heart.\r\nFor Seneca saith, that he that overcometh his heart, overcometh\r\ntwice. And Tullius saith, \u2018There is nothing so commendable in a\r\ngreat lord, as when he is debonair and meek, and appeaseth him\r\nlightly [easily].\u2019 And I pray you, that ye will now forbear to do\r\nvengeance, in such a manner, that your good name may be kept\r\nand conserved, and that men may have cause and matter to\r\npraise you of pity and of mercy; and that ye have no cause to\r\nrepent you of thing that ye do. For Seneca saith, \u2018He\r\novercometh in an evil manner, that repenteth him of his victory.\u2019\r\nWherefore I pray you let mercy be in your heart, to the effect\r\nand intent that God Almighty have mercy upon you in his last\r\njudgement; for Saint James saith in his Epistle, \u2018Judgement\r\nwithout mercy shall be done to him, that hath no mercy of\r\nanother wight.\u2019\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen Melib\u0153us had heard the great skills [arguments, reasons]\r\nand reasons of Dame Prudence, and her wise information and\r\nteaching, his heart gan incline to the will of his wife, considering\r\nher true intent, he conformed him anon and assented fully to\r\nwork after her counsel, and thanked God, of whom proceedeth\r\nall goodness and all virtue, that him sent a wife of so great\r\ndiscretion. And when the day came that his adversaries should\r\nappear in his presence, he spake to them full goodly, and said in\r\nthis wise; \u201cAlbeit so, that of your pride and high presumption\r\nand folly, an of your negligence and unconning, [ignorance] ye\r\nhave misborne [misbehaved] you, and trespassed [done injury]\r\nunto me, yet forasmuch as I see and behold your great humility,\r\nand that ye be sorry and repentant of your guilts, it constraineth\r\nme to do you grace and mercy. Wherefore I receive you into my\r\ngrace, and forgive you utterly all the offences, injuries, and\r\nwrongs, that ye have done against me and mine, to this effect\r\nand to this end, that God of his endless mercy will at the time of\r\nour dying forgive us our guilts, that we have trespassed to him\r\nin this wretched world; for doubtless, if we be sorry and\r\nrepentant of the sins and guilts which we have trespassed in the\r\nsight of our Lord God, he is so free and so merciable [merciful],\r\nthat he will forgive us our guilts, and bring us to the bliss that\r\nnever hath end.\u201d Amen.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Melib\u0153us.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Tale of Melib\u0153us is literally translated from a French\r\nstory, or rather \u201ctreatise,\u201d in prose, entitled \u201cLe Livre de\r\nMelibee et de Dame Prudence,\u201d of which two manuscripts, both\r\ndating from the fifteenth century, are preserved in the British\r\nMuseum. Tyrwhitt, justly enough, says of it that it is indeed, as\r\nChaucer called it in the prologue, \u201c\u2018a moral tale virtuous,\u2019 and\r\nwas probably much esteemed in its time; but, in this age of\r\nlevity, I doubt some readers will be apt to regret that he did not\r\nrather give us the remainder of Sir Thopas.\u201d  It has been\r\nremarked that in the earlier portion of the Tale, as it left the\r\nhand of the poet, a number of blank verses were intermixed;\r\nthough this peculiarity of style, noticeable in any case only in\r\nthe first 150 or 200 lines, has necessarily all but disappeared by\r\nthe changes of spelling made in the modern editions. The\r\nEditor\u2019s purpose being to present to the public not \u201cThe\r\nCanterbury Tales\u201d merely, but \u201cThe Poems of Chaucer,\u201d so far\r\nas may be consistent with the limits of this volume, he has\r\ncondensed the long reasonings and learned quotations of Dame\r\nPrudence into a mere outline, connecting those portions of the\r\nTale wherein lies so much of story as it actually possesses, and\r\nthe general reader will probably not regret the sacrifice, made in\r\nthe view of retaining so far as possible the completeness of the\r\nTales, while lessening the intrusion of prose into a volume or\r\npoems.  The good wife of Melib\u0153us literally overflows with\r\nquotations from David, Solomon, Jesus the Son of Sirach, the\r\nApostles, Ovid, Cicero, Seneca, Cassiodorus, Cato, Petrus\r\nAlphonsus \u2014 the converted Spanish Jew, of the twelfth century,\r\nwho wrote the \u201cDisciplina Clericalis\u201d  \u2014 and other authorities;\r\nand in some passages, especially where husband and wife debate\r\nthe merits or demerits of women, and where Prudence dilates\r\non the evils of poverty, Chaucer only reproduces much that had\r\nbeen said already in the Tales that preceded \u2014 such as the\r\nMerchant\u2019s and the Man of Law\u2019s.\r\n\r\n2. The lines which follow are a close translation of the original\r\nLatin, which reads:\r\n     \u201cQuis matrem, nisi mentis inops, in funere nati\r\n      Flere vetet? non hoc illa monenda loco.\r\n      Cum dederit lacrymas, animumque expleverit aegrum,\r\n      Ille dolor verbis emoderandus erit.\u201d\r\nOvid, \u201cRemedia Amoris,\u201d 127-131.\r\n\r\n3. See the conversation between Pluto and Proserpine, in the\r\nMerchant\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n4. \u201cThy name,\u201d she says, \u201cis Melib\u0153us; that is to say, a man\r\nthat drinketh honey.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. Los: reputation; from the past participle of the Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201chlisan\u201d to celebrate. Compare Latin, \u201claus.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE MONK\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE\r\n\r\nWHEN ended was my tale of Melibee,\r\nAnd of Prudence and her benignity,\r\nOur Hoste said, \u201cAs I am faithful man,\r\nAnd by the precious corpus Madrian,<1>\r\nI had lever* than a barrel of ale,                               *rather\r\nThat goode lefe* my wife had heard this tale;                      *dear\r\nFor she is no thing of such patience\r\nAs was this Melib\u0153us\u2019 wife Prudence.\r\nBy Godde\u2019s bones! when I beat my knaves\r\nShe bringeth me the greate clubbed staves,\r\nAnd crieth, \u2018Slay the dogges every one,\r\nAnd break of them both back and ev\u2019ry bone.\u2019\r\nAnd if that any neighebour of mine\r\nWill not in church unto my wife incline,\r\nOr be so hardy to her to trespace,*                              *offend\r\nWhen she comes home she rampeth* in my face,                    *springs\r\nAnd crieth, \u2018False coward, wreak* thy wife                       *avenge\r\nBy corpus Domini, I will have thy knife,\r\nAnd thou shalt have my distaff, and go spin.\u2019\r\nFrom day till night right thus she will begin.\r\n \u2018Alas!\u2019 she saith, \u2018that ever I was shape*                    *destined\r\nTo wed a milksop, or a coward ape,\r\nThat will be overlad* with every wight!                      *imposed on\r\nThou darest not stand by thy wife\u2019s right.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cThis is my life, *but if* that I will fight;                    *unless\r\nAnd out at door anon I must me dight,*                    *betake myself\r\nOr elles I am lost, but if that I\r\nBe, like a wilde lion, fool-hardy.\r\nI wot well she will do* me slay some day                           *make\r\nSome neighebour and thenne *go my way;*                 *take to flight*\r\nFor I am perilous with knife in hand,\r\nAlbeit that I dare not her withstand;\r\nFor she is big in armes, by my faith!\r\nThat shall he find, that her misdoth or saith. <2>\r\nBut let us pass away from this mattere.\r\nMy lord the Monk,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbe merry of cheer,\r\nFor ye shall tell a tale truely.\r\nLo, Rochester stands here faste by.\r\nRide forth, mine owen lord, break not our game.\r\nBut by my troth I cannot tell your name;\r\nWhether shall I call you my lord Dan John,\r\nOr Dan Thomas, or elles Dan Albon?\r\nOf what house be ye, by your father\u2019s kin?\r\nI vow to God, thou hast a full fair skin;\r\nIt is a gentle pasture where thou go\u2019st;\r\nThou art not like a penant* or a ghost.                        *penitent\r\nUpon my faith thou art some officer,\r\nSome worthy sexton, or some cellarer.\r\nFor by my father\u2019s soul, *as to my dome,*              *in my judgement*\r\nThou art a master when thou art at home;\r\nNo poore cloisterer, nor no novice,\r\nBut a governor, both wily and wise,\r\nAnd therewithal, of brawnes* and of bones,                       *sinews\r\nA right well-faring person for the nonce.\r\nI pray to God give him confusion\r\nThat first thee brought into religion.\r\nThou would\u2019st have been a treade-fowl* aright;                     *cock\r\nHadst thou as greate leave, as thou hast might,\r\nTo perform all thy lust in engendrure,*          *generation, begettting\r\nThou hadst begotten many a creature.\r\nAlas! why wearest thou so wide a cope? <3>\r\nGod give me sorrow, but, an* I were pope,                            *if\r\nNot only thou, but every mighty man,\r\nThough he were shorn full high upon his pan,* <4>                 *crown\r\nShould have a wife; for all this world is lorn;*         *undone, ruined\r\nReligion hath ta\u2019en up all the corn\r\nOf treading, and we borel* men be shrimps:                          *lay\r\nOf feeble trees there come wretched imps.*                   *shoots <5>\r\nThis maketh that our heires be so slender\r\nAnd feeble, that they may not well engender.\r\nThis maketh that our wives will assay\r\nReligious folk, for they may better pay\r\nOf Venus\u2019 payementes than may we:\r\nGod wot, no lusheburghes <6> paye ye.\r\nBut be not wroth, my lord, though that I play;\r\nFull oft in game a sooth have I heard say.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis worthy Monk took all in patience,\r\nAnd said, \u201cI will do all my diligence,\r\nAs far as *souneth unto honesty,*             *agrees with good manners*\r\nTo telle you a tale, or two or three.\r\nAnd if you list to hearken hitherward,\r\nI will you say the life of Saint Edward;\r\nOr elles first tragedies I will tell,\r\nOf which I have an hundred in my cell.\r\nTragedy *is to say* a certain story,                             *means*\r\nAs olde bookes maken us memory,\r\nOf him that stood in great prosperity,\r\nAnd is y-fallen out of high degree\r\nIn misery, and endeth wretchedly.\r\nAnd they be versified commonly\r\nOf six feet, which men call hexametron;\r\nIn prose eke* be indited many a one,                               *also\r\nAnd eke in metre, in many a sundry wise.\r\nLo, this declaring ought enough suffice.\r\nNow hearken, if ye like for to hear.\r\nBut first I you beseech in this mattere,\r\nThough I by order telle not these things,\r\nBe it of popes, emperors, or kings,\r\n*After their ages,* as men written find,        *in chronological order*\r\nBut tell them some before and some behind,\r\nAs it now cometh to my remembrance,\r\nHave me excused of mine ignorance.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to The Monk\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Corpus Madrian: the body of St. Maternus, of Treves.\r\n\r\n2. That her misdoth or saith: that does or says any thing to\r\noffend her.\r\n\r\n3. Cope:  An ecclesiastcal vestment covering all the body like a\r\ncloak.\r\n\r\n4. Though he were shorn full high upon his pan: though he were\r\ntonsured, as the clergy are.\r\n\r\n5. Imps: shoots, branches; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cimpian,\u201d\r\nGerman, \u201cimpfen,\u201d to implant, ingraft. The word is now used in\r\na very restricted sense, to signify the progeny, children, of the\r\ndevil.\r\n\r\n6. Lusheburghes: base or counterfeit coins; so called because\r\nstruck at Luxemburg.  A great importation of them took place\r\nduring the reigns of the earlier Edwards, and they caused much\r\nannoyance and complaint, till in 1351 it was declared treason to\r\nbring them into the country.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nI will bewail, in manner of tragedy,\r\nThe harm of them that stood in high degree,\r\nAnd felle so, that there was no remedy\r\nTo bring them out of their adversity.\r\nFor, certain, when that Fortune list to flee,\r\nThere may no man the course of her wheel hold:\r\nLet no man trust in blind prosperity;\r\nBeware by these examples true and old.\r\n\r\nAt LUCIFER, though he an angel were,\r\nAnd not a man, at him I will begin.\r\nFor though Fortune may no angel dere,*                             *hurt\r\nFrom high degree yet fell he for his sin\r\nDown into hell, where as he yet is in.\r\nO Lucifer! brightest of angels all,\r\nNow art thou Satanas, that may\u2019st not twin*                      *depart\r\nOut of the misery in which thou art fall.\r\n\r\nLo ADAM, in the field of Damascene <2>\r\nWith Godde\u2019s owen finger wrought was he,\r\nAnd not begotten of man\u2019s sperm unclean;\r\nAnd welt* all Paradise saving one tree:                       *commanded\r\nHad never worldly man so high degree\r\nAs Adam, till he for misgovernance*                        *misbehaviour\r\nWas driven out of his prosperity\r\nTo labour, and to hell, and to mischance.\r\n\r\nLo SAMPSON, which that was annunciate\r\nBy the angel, long ere his nativity; <3>\r\nAnd was to God Almighty consecrate,\r\nAnd stood in nobless while that he might see;\r\nWas never such another as was he,\r\nTo speak of strength, and thereto hardiness;*                   *courage\r\nBut to his wives told he his secre,\r\nThrough which he slew himself for wretchedness.\r\n\r\nSampson, this noble and mighty champion,\r\nWithoute weapon, save his handes tway,\r\nHe slew and all to-rente* the lion,                      *tore to pieces\r\nToward his wedding walking by the way.\r\nHis false wife could him so please, and pray,\r\nTill she his counsel knew; and she, untrue,\r\nUnto his foes his counsel gan bewray,\r\nAnd him forsook, and took another new.\r\n\r\nThree hundred foxes Sampson took for ire,\r\nAnd all their tailes he together band,\r\nAnd set the foxes\u2019 tailes all on fire,\r\nFor he in every tail had knit a brand,\r\nAnd they burnt all the combs of that lend,\r\nAnd all their oliveres* and vines eke.                  *olive trees <4>\r\nA thousand men he slew eke with his hand,\r\nAnd had no weapon but an ass\u2019s cheek.\r\n\r\nWhen they were slain, so thirsted him, that he\r\nWas *well-nigh lorn,* for which he gan to pray       *near to perishing*\r\nThat God would on his pain have some pity,\r\nAnd send him drink, or elles must he die;\r\nAnd of this ass\u2019s check, that was so dry,\r\nOut of a wang-tooth* sprang anon a well,                    *cheek-tooth\r\nOf which, he drank enough, shortly to say.\r\nThus help\u2019d him God, as Judicum <5>  can tell.\r\n\r\nBy very force, at Gaza, on a night,\r\nMaugre* the Philistines of that city,                       *in spite of\r\nThe gates of the town he hath up plight,*             *plucked, wrenched\r\nAnd on his back y-carried them hath he\r\nHigh on an hill, where as men might them see.\r\nO noble mighty Sampson, lefe* and dear,                           *loved\r\nHadst thou not told to women thy secre,\r\nIn all this world there had not been thy peer.\r\n\r\nThis Sampson never cider drank nor wine,\r\nNor on his head came razor none nor shear,\r\nBy precept of the messenger divine;\r\nFor all his strengthes in his haires were;\r\nAnd fully twenty winters, year by year,\r\nHe had of Israel the governance;\r\nBut soone shall he weepe many a tear,\r\nFor women shall him bringe to mischance.\r\n\r\nUnto his leman* Dalila he told,                                *mistress\r\nThat in his haires all his strengthe lay;\r\nAnd falsely to his foemen she him sold,\r\nAnd sleeping in her barme* upon a day                               *lap\r\nShe made to clip or shear his hair away,\r\nAnd made his foemen all his craft espien.\r\nAnd when they founde him in this array,\r\nThey bound him fast, and put out both his eyen.\r\n\r\nBut, ere his hair was clipped or y-shave,\r\nThere was no bond with which men might him bind;\r\nBut now is he in prison in a cave,\r\nWhere as they made him at the querne* grind.                   *mill <6>\r\nO noble Sampson, strongest of mankind!\r\nO whilom judge in glory and richess!\r\nNow may\u2019st thou weepe with thine eyen blind,\r\nSince thou from weal art fall\u2019n to wretchedness.\r\n\r\nTh\u2019end of this caitiff* was as I shall say;                *wretched man\r\nHis foemen made a feast upon a day,\r\nAnd made him as their fool before them play;\r\nAnd this was in a temple of great array.\r\nBut at the last he made a foul affray,\r\nFor he two pillars shook, and made them fall,\r\nAnd down fell temple and all, and there it lay,\r\nAnd slew himself and eke his foemen all;\r\n\r\nThis is to say, the princes every one;\r\nAnd eke three thousand bodies were there slain\r\nWith falling of the great temple of stone.\r\nOf Sampson now will I no more sayn;\r\nBeware by this example old and plain,\r\nThat no man tell his counsel to his wife\r\nOf such thing as he would *have secret fain,*        *wish to be secret*\r\nIf that it touch his limbes or his life.\r\n\r\nOf HERCULES the sov\u2019reign conquerour\r\nSinge his workes\u2019 land and high renown;\r\nFor in his time of strength he bare the flow\u2019r.\r\nHe slew and reft the skin of the lion\r\nHe of the Centaurs laid the boast adown;\r\nHe Harpies <7> slew, the cruel birdes fell;\r\nHe golden apples reft from the dragon\r\nHe drew out Cerberus the hound of hell.\r\n\r\nHe slew the cruel tyrant Busirus. <8>\r\nAnd made his horse to fret* him flesh and bone;                  *devour\r\nHe slew the fiery serpent venomous;\r\nOf Achelous\u2019 two hornes brake he one.\r\nAnd he slew Cacus in a cave of stone;\r\nHe slew the giant Antaeus the strong;\r\nHe slew the grisly boar, and that anon;\r\nAnd bare the heav\u2019n upon his necke long. <9>\r\n\r\nWas never wight, since that the world began,\r\nThat slew so many monsters as did he;\r\nThroughout the wide world his name ran,\r\nWhat for his strength, and for his high bounte;\r\nAnd every realme went he for to see;\r\nHe was so strong that no man might him let;*                  *withstand\r\nAt both the worlde\u2019s ends, as saith Trophee, <10>\r\nInstead of boundes he a pillar set.\r\n\r\nA leman had this noble champion,\r\nThat highte Dejanira, fresh as May;\r\nAnd, as these clerkes make mention,\r\nShe hath him sent a shirte fresh and gay;\r\nAlas! this shirt, alas and well-away!\r\nEnvenomed was subtilly withal,\r\nThat ere that he had worn it half a day,\r\nIt made his flesh all from his bones fall.\r\n\r\nBut natheless some clerkes her excuse\r\nBy one, that highte Nessus, that it maked;\r\nBe as he may, I will not her accuse;\r\nBut on his back this shirt he wore all naked,\r\nTill that his flesh was for the venom blaked.*                *blackened\r\nAnd when he saw none other remedy,\r\nIn hote coals he hath himselfe raked,\r\nFor with no venom deigned he to die.\r\n\r\nThus sterf* this worthy mighty Hercules.                           *died\r\nLo, who may trust on Fortune *any throw?*                 *for a moment*\r\nFor him that followeth all this world of pres,*               *near <11>\r\nEre he be ware, is often laid full low;\r\nFull wise is he that can himselfe know.\r\nBeware, for when that Fortune list to glose\r\nThen waiteth she her man to overthrow,\r\nBy such a way as he would least suppose.\r\n\r\nThe mighty throne, the precious treasor,\r\nThe glorious sceptre, and royal majesty,\r\nThat had the king NABUCHODONOSOR\r\nWith tongue unnethes* may described be.                        *scarcely\r\nHe twice won Jerusalem the city,\r\nThe vessels of the temple he with him lad;*                   *took away\r\nAt Babylone was his sov\u2019reign see,*                                *seat\r\nIn which his glory and delight he had.\r\n\r\nThe fairest children of the blood royal\r\nOf Israel he *did do geld* anon,                *caused to be castrated*\r\nAnd maked each of them to be his thrall.*                         *slave\r\nAmonges others Daniel was one,\r\nThat was the wisest child of every one;\r\nFor he the dreames of the king expounded,\r\nWhere in Chaldaea clerkes was there none\r\nThat wiste to what fine* his dreames sounded.                       *end\r\n\r\nThis proude king let make a statue of gold\r\nSixty cubites long, and seven in bread\u2019,\r\nTo which image hathe young and old\r\nCommanded he to lout,* and have in dread,                   *bow down to\r\nOr in a furnace, full of flames red,\r\nHe should be burnt that woulde not obey:\r\nBut never would assente to that deed\r\nDaniel, nor his younge fellows tway.\r\n\r\nThis king of kinges proud was and elate;*                         *lofty\r\nHe ween\u2019d* that God, that sits in majesty,                      *thought\r\nMighte him not bereave of his estate;\r\nBut suddenly he lost his dignity,\r\nAnd like a beast he seemed for to be,\r\nAnd ate hay as an ox, and lay thereout\r\nIn rain, with wilde beastes walked he,\r\nTill certain time was y-come about.\r\n\r\nAnd like an eagle\u2019s feathers wax\u2019d his hairs,\r\nHis nailes like a birde\u2019s clawes were,\r\nTill God released him at certain years,\r\nAnd gave him wit; and then with many a tear\r\nHe thanked God, and ever his life in fear\r\nWas he to do amiss, or more trespace:\r\nAnd till that time he laid was on his bier,\r\nHe knew that God was full of might and grace.\r\n\r\nHis sone, which that highte BALTHASAR,\r\nThat *held the regne* after his father\u2019s day,    *possessed the kingdom*\r\nHe by his father coulde not beware,\r\nFor proud he was of heart and of array;\r\nAnd eke an idolaster was he aye.\r\nHis high estate assured* him in pride;                        *confirmed\r\nBut Fortune cast him down, and there he lay,\r\nAnd suddenly his regne gan divide.\r\n\r\nA feast he made unto his lordes all\r\nUpon a time, and made them blithe be,\r\nAnd then his officeres gan he call;\r\n\u201cGo, bringe forth the vessels,\u201d saide he,\r\n\u201cWhich that my father in his prosperity\r\nOut of the temple of Jerusalem reft,\r\nAnd to our highe goddes thanks we\r\nOf honour, that our elders* with us left.\u201d                  *forefathers\r\n\r\nHis wife, his lordes, and his concubines\r\nAye dranke, while their appetites did last,\r\nOut of these noble vessels sundry wines.\r\nAnd on a wall this king his eyen cast,\r\nAnd saw an hand, armless, that wrote full fast;\r\nFor fear of which he quaked, and sighed sore.\r\nThis hand, that Balthasar so sore aghast,*                     *dismayed\r\nWrote Mane, tekel, phares, and no more.\r\n\r\nIn all that land magician was there none\r\nThat could expounde what this letter meant.\r\nBut Daniel expounded it anon,\r\nAnd said, \u201cO King, God to thy father lent\r\nGlory and honour, regne, treasure, rent;*                       *revenue\r\nAnd he was proud, and nothing God he drad;*                     *dreaded\r\nAnd therefore God great wreche* upon him sent,                *vengeance\r\nAnd him bereft the regne that he had.\r\n\r\n\u201cHe was cast out of manne\u2019s company;\r\nWith asses was his habitation\r\nAnd ate hay, as a beast, in wet and dry,\r\nTill that he knew by grace and by reason\r\nThat God of heaven hath domination\r\nO\u2019er every regne, and every creature;\r\nAnd then had God of him compassion,\r\nAnd him restor\u2019d his regne and his figure.\r\n\r\n\u201cEke thou, that art his son, art proud also,\r\nAnd knowest all these thinges verily;\r\nAnd art rebel to God, and art his foe.\r\nThou drankest of his vessels boldely;\r\nThy wife eke, and thy wenches, sinfully\r\nDrank of the same vessels sundry wines,\r\nAnd heried* false goddes cursedly;                              *praised\r\nTherefore *to thee y-shapen full great pine is.*    *great punishment is\r\n                                                      prepared for thee*\r\n\u201cThis hand was sent from God, that on the wall\r\nWrote Mane, tekel, phares, truste me;\r\nThy reign is done; thou weighest naught at all;\r\nDivided is thy regne, and it shall be\r\nTo Medes and to Persians giv\u2019n,\u201d quoth he.\r\nAnd thilke same night this king was slaw*                         *slain\r\nAnd Darius occupied his degree,\r\nThough he thereto had neither right nor law.\r\n\r\nLordings, example hereby may ye take,\r\nHow that in lordship is no sickerness;*                        *security\r\nFor when that Fortune will a man forsake,\r\nShe bears away his regne and his richess,\r\nAnd eke his friendes bothe more and less,\r\nFor what man that hath friendes through fortune,\r\nMishap will make them enemies, I guess;\r\nThis proverb is full sooth, and full commune.\r\n\r\nZENOBIA, of Palmyrie the queen, <12>\r\nAs write Persians of her nobless,\r\nSo worthy was in armes, and so keen,\r\nThat no wight passed her in hardiness,\r\nNor in lineage, nor other gentleness.*                  *noble qualities\r\nOf the king\u2019s blood of Perse* is she descended;                  *Persia\r\nI say not that she hadde most fairness,\r\nBut of her shape she might not he amended.\r\n\r\nFrom her childhood I finde that she fled\r\nOffice of woman, and to woods she went,\r\nAnd many a wilde harte\u2019s blood she shed\r\nWith arrows broad that she against them sent;\r\nShe was so swift, that she anon them hent.*                      *caught\r\nAnd when that she was older, she would kill\r\nLions, leopards, and beares all to-rent,*                *torn to pieces\r\nAnd in her armes wield them at her will.\r\n\r\nShe durst the wilde beastes\u2019 dennes seek,\r\nAnd runnen in the mountains all the night,\r\nAnd sleep under a bush; and she could eke\r\nWrestle by very force and very might\r\nWith any young man, were he ne\u2019er so wight;*             *active, nimble\r\nThere mighte nothing in her armes stond.\r\nShe kept her maidenhood from every wight,\r\nTo no man deigned she for to be bond.\r\n\r\nBut at the last her friendes have her married\r\nTo Odenate, <13> a prince of that country;\r\nAll were it so, that she them longe tarried.\r\nAnd ye shall understande how that he\r\nHadde such fantasies as hadde she;\r\nBut natheless, when they were knit in fere,*                   *together\r\nThey liv\u2019d in joy, and in felicity,\r\nFor each of them had other lefe* and dear.                        *loved\r\n\r\nSave one thing, that she never would assent,\r\nBy no way, that he shoulde by her lie\r\nBut ones, for it was her plain intent\r\nTo have a child, the world to multiply;\r\nAnd all so soon as that she might espy\r\nThat she was not with childe by that deed,\r\nThen would she suffer him do his fantasy\r\nEftsoon,* and not but ones, *out of dread.*       *again *without doubt*\r\n\r\nAnd if she were with child at thilke* cast,                        *that\r\nNo more should he playe thilke game\r\nTill fully forty dayes were past;\r\nThen would she once suffer him do the same.\r\nAll* were this Odenatus wild or tame,                           *whether\r\nHe got no more of her; for thus she said,\r\nIt was to wives lechery and shame\r\nIn other case* if that men with them play\u2019d.              on other terms\r\n\r\nTwo sones, by this Odenate had she,\r\nThe which she kept in virtue and lettrure.*                    *learning\r\nBut now unto our tale turne we;\r\nI say, so worshipful a creature,\r\nAnd wise therewith, and large* with measure,**   *bountiful **moderation\r\nSo penible* in the war, and courteous eke,                    *laborious\r\nNor more labour might in war endure,\r\nWas none, though all this worlde men should seek.\r\n\r\nHer rich array it mighte not be told,\r\nAs well in vessel as in her clothing:\r\nShe was all clad in pierrie* and in gold,                     *jewellery\r\nAnd eke she *lefte not,* for no hunting,               *did not neglect*\r\nTo have of sundry tongues full knowing,\r\nWhen that she leisure had, and for t\u2019intend*                      *apply\r\nTo learne bookes was all her liking,\r\nHow she in virtue might her life dispend.\r\n\r\nAnd, shortly of this story for to treat,\r\nSo doughty was her husband and eke she,\r\nThat they conquered many regnes great\r\nIn th\u2019Orient, with many a fair city\r\nAppertinent unto the majesty\r\nOf Rome, and with strong hande held them fast,\r\nNor ever might their foemen do* them flee,                         *make\r\nAye while that Odenatus\u2019 dayes last\u2019.\r\n\r\nHer battles, whoso list them for to read,\r\nAgainst Sapor the king, <14> and other mo\u2019,\r\nAnd how that all this process fell in deed,\r\nWhy she conquer\u2019d, and what title thereto,\r\nAnd after of her mischief* and her woe,                      *misfortune\r\nHow that she was besieged and y-take,\r\nLet him unto my master Petrarch go,\r\nThat writes enough of this, I undertake.\r\n\r\nWhen Odenate was dead, she mightily\r\nThe regne held, and with her proper hand\r\nAgainst her foes she fought so cruelly,\r\nThat there n\u2019as* king nor prince in all that land,              *was not\r\nThat was not glad, if be that grace fand\r\nThat she would not upon his land warray;*                      *make war\r\nWith her they maden alliance by bond,\r\nTo be in peace, and let her ride and play.\r\n\r\nThe emperor of Rome, Claudius,\r\nNor, him before, the Roman Gallien,\r\nDurste never be so courageous,\r\nNor no Armenian, nor Egyptien,\r\nNor Syrian, nor no Arabien,\r\nWithin the fielde durste with her fight,\r\nLest that she would them with her handes slen,*                    *slay\r\nOr with her meinie* putte them to flight.                        *troops\r\n\r\nIn kinges\u2019 habit went her sones two,\r\nAs heires of their father\u2019s regnes all;\r\nAnd Heremanno and Timolao\r\nTheir names were, as Persians them call\r\nBut aye Fortune hath in her honey gall;\r\nThis mighty queene may no while endure;\r\nFortune out of her regne made her fall\r\nTo wretchedness and to misadventure.\r\n\r\nAurelian, when that the governance\r\nOf Rome came into his handes tway, <15>\r\nHe shope* upon this queen to do vengeance;                     *prepared\r\nAnd with his legions he took his way\r\nToward Zenobie, and, shortly for to say,\r\nHe made her flee, and at the last her hent,*                       *took\r\nAnd fetter\u2019d her, and eke her children tway,\r\nAnd won the land, and home to Rome he went.\r\n\r\nAmonges other thinges that he wan,\r\nHer car, that was with gold wrought and pierrie,*                *jewels\r\nThis greate Roman, this Aurelian\r\nHath with him led, for that men should it see.\r\nBefore in his triumphe walked she\r\nWith gilte chains upon her neck hanging;\r\nCrowned she was, as after* her degree,                     *according to\r\nAnd full of pierrie her clothing.\r\n\r\nAlas, Fortune! she that whilom was\r\nDreadful to kinges and to emperours,\r\nNow galeth* all the people on her, alas!                        *yelleth\r\nAnd she that *helmed was in starke stowres,*           *wore a helmet in\r\nAnd won by force townes strong and tow\u2019rs,            obstinate battles*\r\nShall on her head now wear a vitremite; <16>\r\nAnd she that bare the sceptre full of flow\u2019rs\r\nShall bear a distaff, *her cost for to quite.*     * to make her living*\r\n\r\nAlthough that NERO were so vicious\r\nAs any fiend that lies full low adown,\r\nYet he, as telleth us Suetonius,<17>\r\nThis wide world had in subjectioun,\r\nBoth East and West, South and Septentrioun.\r\nOf rubies, sapphires, and of pearles white\r\nWere all his clothes embroider\u2019d up and down,\r\nFor he in gemmes greatly gan delight.\r\n\r\nMore delicate, more pompous of array,\r\nMore proud, was never emperor than he;\r\nThat *ilke cloth* that he had worn one day,                  *same robe*\r\nAfter that time he would it never see;\r\nNettes of gold thread had he great plenty,\r\nTo fish in Tiber, when him list to play;\r\nHis lustes* were as law, in his degree,                       *pleasures\r\nFor Fortune as his friend would him obey.\r\n\r\nHe Rome burnt for his delicacy;*                               *pleasure\r\nThe senators he slew upon a day,\r\nTo heare how that men would weep and cry;\r\nAnd slew his brother, and by his sister lay.\r\nHis mother made he in piteous array;\r\nFor he her wombe slitte, to behold\r\nWhere he conceived was; so well-away!\r\nThat he so little of his mother told.*                           *valued\r\n\r\nNo tear out of his eyen for that sight\r\nCame; but he said, a fair woman was she.\r\nGreat wonder is, how that he could or might\r\nBe doomesman* of her deade beauty:                                *judge\r\nThe wine to bringe him commanded he,\r\nAnd drank anon; none other woe he made,\r\nWhen might is joined unto cruelty,\r\nAlas! too deepe will the venom wade.\r\n\r\nIn youth a master had this emperour,\r\nTo teache him lettrure* and courtesy;              *literature, learning\r\nFor of morality he was the flow\u2019r,\r\nAs in his time, *but if* bookes lie.                             *unless\r\nAnd while this master had of him mast\u2019ry,\r\nHe made him so conning and so souple,*                           *subtle\r\nThat longe time it was ere tyranny,\r\nOr any vice, durst in him uncouple.*                       *be let loose\r\n\r\nThis Seneca, of which that I devise,*                              *tell\r\nBecause Nero had of him suche dread,\r\nFor he from vices would him aye chastise\r\nDiscreetly, as by word, and not by deed;\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d he would say, \u201can emperor must need\r\nBe virtuous, and hate tyranny.\u201d\r\nFor which he made him in a bath to bleed\r\nOn both his armes, till he muste die.\r\n\r\nThis Nero had eke of a custumance*                                *habit\r\nIn youth against his master for to rise;*         *stand in his presence\r\nWhich afterward he thought a great grievance;\r\nTherefore he made him dien in this wise.\r\nBut natheless this Seneca the wise\r\nChose in a bath to die in this mannere,\r\nRather than have another tormentise;*                           *torture\r\nAnd thus hath Nero slain his master dear.\r\n\r\nNow fell it so, that Fortune list no longer\r\nThe highe pride of Nero to cherice;*                            *cherish\r\nFor though he were strong, yet was she stronger.\r\nShe thoughte thus; \u201cBy God, I am too nice*                      *foolish\r\nTo set a man, that is full fill\u2019d of vice,\r\nIn high degree, and emperor him call!\r\nBy God, out of his seat I will him trice!*                  *thrust <18>\r\nWhen he least weeneth,* soonest shall he fall.\u201d               *expecteth\r\n\r\nThe people rose upon him on a night,\r\nFor  his default; and when he it espied,\r\nOut of his doors anon he hath him dight*                *betaken himself\r\nAlone, and where he ween\u2019d  t\u2019have been allied,*          *regarded with\r\nHe knocked fast, and aye the more he cried                    friendship\r\nThe faster shutte they their doores all;\r\nThen wist he well he had himself misgied,*                       *misled\r\nAnd went his way, no longer durst he call.\r\n\r\nThe people cried and rumbled up and down,\r\nThat with his eares heard he how they said;\r\n\u201cWhere is this false tyrant, this Neroun?\u201d\r\nFor fear almost out of his wit he braid,*                          *went\r\nAnd to his goddes piteously he pray\u2019d\r\nFor succour, but it mighte not betide\r\nFor dread of this he thoughte that died,\r\nAnd ran into a garden him to hide.\r\n\r\nAnd in this garden found he churles tway,\r\nThat satte by a fire great and red;\r\nAnd to these churles two he gan to pray\r\nTo slay him, and to girdon* off his head,                        *strike\r\nThat to his body, when that he were dead,\r\nWere no despite done for his defame.*                            *infamy\r\nHimself he slew, *he coud no better rede;*            *he knew no better\r\nOf which Fortune laugh\u2019d and hadde game.                        counsel*\r\n\r\nWas never capitain under a king,\r\nThat regnes more put in subjectioun,\r\nNor stronger was in field of alle thing\r\nAs in his time, nor greater of renown,\r\nNor more pompous in high presumptioun,\r\nThan HOLOFERNES, whom Fortune aye kiss\u2019d\r\nSo lik\u2019rously, and led him up and down,\r\nTill that his head was off *ere that he wist.*       *before he knew it*\r\n\r\nNot only that this world had of him awe,\r\nFor losing of richess and liberty;\r\nBut he made every man *reny his law.*        *renounce his religion <19>\r\nNabuchodonosor was God, said he;\r\nNone other Godde should honoured be.\r\nAgainst his hest* there dare no wight trespace,                 *command\r\nSave in Bethulia, a strong city,\r\nWhere Eliachim priest was of that place.\r\n\r\nBut take keep* of the death of Holofern;                         *notice\r\nAmid his host he drunken lay at night\r\nWithin his tente, large as is a bern;*                             *barn\r\nAnd yet, for all his pomp and all his might,\r\nJudith, a woman, as he lay upright\r\nSleeping, his head off smote, and from his tent\r\nFull privily she stole from every wight,\r\nAnd with his head unto her town she went.\r\n\r\nWhat needeth it of king ANTIOCHUS <20>\r\nTo tell his high and royal majesty,\r\nHis great pride, and his workes venomous?\r\nFor such another was there none as he;\r\nReade what that he was in Maccabee.\r\nAnd read the proude wordes that he said,\r\nAnd why he fell from his prosperity,\r\nAnd in an hill how wretchedly he died.\r\n\r\nFortune him had enhanced so in pride,\r\nThat verily he ween\u2019d he might attain\r\nUnto the starres upon every side,\r\nAnd in a balance weighen each mountain,\r\nAnd all the floodes of the sea restrain.\r\nAnd Godde\u2019s people had he most in hate\r\nThem would he slay in torment and in pain,\r\nWeening that God might not his pride abate.\r\n\r\nAnd for that Nicanor and Timothee\r\nWith Jewes were vanquish\u2019d mightily, <21>\r\nUnto the Jewes such an hate had he,\r\nThat he bade *graith his car* full hastily,        *prepare his chariot*\r\nAnd swore and saide full dispiteously,\r\nUnto Jerusalem he would eftsoon,*                           *immediately\r\nTo wreak his ire on it full cruelly\r\nBut of his purpose was he let* full soon.                     *prevented\r\n\r\nGod for his menace him so sore smote,\r\nWith invisible wound incurable,\r\nThat in his guttes carf* it so and bote,**                 *cut **gnawed\r\nTill that his paines were importable;*                      *unendurable\r\nAnd certainly the wreche* was reasonable,                     *vengeance\r\nFor many a manne\u2019s guttes did he pain;\r\nBut from his purpose, curs\u2019d* and damnable,                     *impious\r\nFor all his smart he would him not restrain;\r\nBut bade anon apparaile* his host.                              *prepare\r\n\r\nAnd suddenly, ere he was of it ware,\r\nGod daunted all his pride, and all his boast\r\nFor he so sore fell out of his chare,*                          *chariot\r\nThat it his limbes and his skin to-tare,\r\nSo that he neither mighte go nor ride\r\nBut in a chaire men about him bare,\r\nAlle forbruised bothe back and side.\r\n\r\nThe wreche* of God him smote so cruelly,                      *vengeance\r\nThat through his body wicked wormes crept,\r\nAnd therewithal he stank so horribly\r\nThat none of all his meinie* that him kept,                    *servants\r\nWhether so that he woke or elles slept,\r\nNe mighte not of him the stink endure.\r\nIn this mischief he wailed and eke wept,\r\nAnd knew God Lord of every creature.\r\n\r\nTo all his host, and to himself also,\r\nFull wlatsem* was the stink of his carrain;**          *loathsome **body\r\nNo manne might him beare to and fro.\r\nAnd in this stink, and this horrible pain,\r\nHe starf* full wretchedly in a mountain.                           *dies\r\nThus hath this robber, and this homicide,\r\nThat many a manne made to weep and plain,\r\nSuch guerdon* as belongeth unto pride.                           *reward\r\n\r\nThe story of ALEXANDER is so commune,\r\nThat ev\u2019ry wight that hath discretion\r\nHath heard somewhat or all of his fortune.\r\nThis wide world, as in conclusion,\r\nHe won by strength; or, for his high renown,\r\nThey were glad for peace to him to send.\r\nThe pride and boast of man he laid adown,\r\nWhereso he came, unto the worlde\u2019s end.\r\n\r\nComparison yet never might be maked\r\nBetween him and another conqueror;\r\nFor all this world for dread of him had quaked\r\nHe was of knighthood and of freedom flow\u2019r:\r\nFortune him made the heir of her honour.\r\nSave wine and women, nothing might assuage\r\nHis high intent in arms and labour,\r\nSo was he full of leonine courage.\r\n\r\nWhat praise were it to him, though I you told\r\nOf Darius, and a hundred thousand mo\u2019,\r\nOf kinges, princes, dukes, and earles bold,\r\nWhich he conquer\u2019d, and brought them into woe?\r\nI say, as far as man may ride or go,\r\nThe world was his, why should I more devise?*                      *tell\r\nFor, though I wrote or told you evermo\u2019,\r\nOf his knighthood it mighte not suffice.\r\n\r\nTwelve years he reigned, as saith Maccabee\r\nPhilippe\u2019s son of Macedon he was,\r\nThat first was king in Greece the country.\r\nO worthy gentle* Alexander, alas                                  *noble\r\nThat ever should thee falle such a case!\r\nEmpoison\u2019d of thine owen folk thou were;\r\nThy six <22> fortune hath turn\u2019d into an ace,\r\nAnd yet for thee she wepte never a tear.\r\n\r\nWho shall me give teares to complain\r\nThe death of gentiless, and of franchise,*                   *generosity\r\nThat all this worlde had in his demaine,*                      *dominion\r\nAnd yet he thought it mighte not suffice,\r\nSo full was his corage* of high emprise?                         *spirit\r\nAlas! who shall me helpe to indite\r\nFalse Fortune, and poison to despise?\r\nThe whiche two of all this woe I wite.*                           *blame\r\n\r\nBy wisdom, manhood, and by great labour,\r\nFrom humbleness to royal majesty\r\nUp rose he, JULIUS the Conquerour,\r\nThat won all th\u2019 Occident,* by land and sea,                       *West\r\nBy strength of hand or elles by treaty,\r\nAnd unto Rome made them tributary;\r\nAnd since* of Rome the emperor was he,                       *afterwards\r\nTill that Fortune wax\u2019d his adversary.\r\n\r\nO mighty Caesar, that in Thessaly\r\nAgainst POMPEIUS, father thine in law, <23>\r\nThat of th\u2019 Orient had all the chivalry,\r\nAs far as that the day begins to daw,\r\nThat through thy knighthood hast them take and slaw,*             slain*\r\nSave fewe folk that with Pompeius fled;\r\nThrough which thou put all th\u2019 Orient in awe; <24>\r\nThanke Fortune that so well thee sped.\r\n\r\nBut now a little while I will bewail\r\nThis Pompeius, this noble governor\r\nOf Rome, which that fled at this battaile\r\nI say, one of his men, a false traitor,\r\nHis head off smote, to winne him favor\r\nOf Julius, and him the head he brought;\r\nAlas! Pompey, of th\u2019 Orient conqueror,\r\nThat Fortune unto such a fine* thee brought!                        *end\r\n\r\nTo Rome again repaired Julius,\r\nWith his triumphe laureate full high;\r\nBut on a time Brutus and Cassius,\r\nThat ever had of his estate envy,\r\nFull privily have made conspiracy\r\nAgainst this Julius in subtle wise\r\nAnd cast* the place in which he shoulde die,                   *arranged\r\nWith bodekins,* as I shall you devise.**                 *daggers **tell\r\n\r\nThis Julius to the Capitole went\r\nUpon a day, as he was wont to gon;\r\nAnd in the Capitol anon him hent*                                *seized\r\nThis false Brutus, and his other fone,*                            *foes\r\nAnd sticked him with bodekins anon\r\nWith many a wound, and thus they let him lie.\r\nBut never groan\u2019d he at no stroke but one,\r\nOr else at two, *but if* the story lie.                          *unless\r\n\r\nSo manly was this Julius of heart,\r\nAnd so well loved *estately honesty                *dignified propriety*\r\nThat, though his deadly woundes sore smart,*                 *pained him\r\nHis mantle o\u2019er his hippes caste he,\r\nThat ne man shoulde see his privity\r\nAnd as he lay a-dying in a trance,\r\nAnd wiste verily that dead was he,\r\nOf honesty yet had he remembrance.\r\n\r\nLucan, to thee this story I recommend,\r\nAnd to Sueton\u2019, and Valerie also,\r\nThat of this story write *word and end*                 *the whole* <25>\r\nHow that to these great conquerores two\r\nFortune was first a friend, and since* a foe.                *afterwards\r\nNo manne trust upon her favour long,\r\nBut *have her in await for evermo\u2019;*      *ever be watchful against her*\r\nWitness on all these conquerores strong.\r\n\r\nThe riche CROESUS, <26> whilom king of Lyde, \u2014\r\nOf which Croesus Cyrus him sore drad,* \u2014                       *dreaded\r\nYet was he caught amiddes all his pride,\r\nAnd to be burnt men to the fire him lad;\r\nBut such a rain down *from the welkin shad,*       *poured from the sky*\r\nThat slew the fire, and made him to escape:\r\nBut to beware no grace yet he had,\r\nTill fortune on the gallows made him gape.\r\n\r\nWhen he escaped was, he could not stint*                        *refrain\r\nFor to begin a newe war again;\r\nHe weened well, for that Fortune him sent\r\nSuch hap, that he escaped through the rain,\r\nThat of his foes he mighte not be slain.\r\nAnd eke a sweven* on a night he mette,**                *dream **dreamed\r\nOf which he was so proud, and eke so fain,*                        *glad\r\nThat he in vengeance all his hearte set.\r\n\r\nUpon a tree he was set, as he thought,\r\nWhere Jupiter him wash\u2019d, both back and side,\r\nAnd Phoebus eke a fair towel him brought\r\nTo dry him with; and therefore wax\u2019d his pride.\r\nAnd to his daughter that stood him beside,\r\nWhich he knew in high science to abound,\r\nHe bade her tell him what it signified;\r\nAnd she his dream began right thus expound.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe tree,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthe gallows is to mean,\r\nAnd Jupiter betokens snow and rain,\r\nAnd Phoebus, with his towel clear and clean,\r\nThese be the sunne\u2019s streames* sooth to sayn;                      *rays\r\nThou shalt y-hangeth be, father, certain;\r\nRain shall thee wash, and sunne shall thee dry.\u201d\r\nThus warned him full plat and eke full plain\r\nHis daughter, which that called was Phanie.\r\n\r\nAnd hanged was Croesus the proude king;\r\nHis royal throne might him not avail.\r\nTragedy is none other manner thing,\r\nNor can in singing crien nor bewail,\r\nBut for that Fortune all day will assail\r\nWith unware stroke the regnes* that be proud:<27>              *kingdoms\r\nFor when men truste her, then will she fail,\r\nAnd cover her bright face with a cloud.\r\n\r\nO noble, O worthy PEDRO, <28> glory OF SPAIN,\r\nWhem Fortune held so high in majesty,\r\nWell oughte men thy piteous death complain.\r\nOut of thy land thy brother made thee flee,\r\nAnd after, at a siege, by subtlety,\r\nThou wert betray\u2019d, and led unto his tent,\r\nWhere as he with his owen hand slew thee,\r\nSucceeding in thy regne* and in thy rent.**           *kingdom *revenues\r\n\r\nThe field of snow, with th\u2019 eagle of black therein,\r\nCaught with the lion, red-colour\u2019d as the glede,*          *burning coal\r\nHe brew\u2019d this cursedness,* and all this sin;      *wickedness, villainy\r\nThe wicked nest was worker of this deed;\r\nNot Charles\u2019 Oliver, <29> that took aye heed\r\nOf truth and honour, but of Armorike\r\nGanilien Oliver, corrupt for meed,*                       *reward, bribe\r\nBroughte this worthy king in such a brike.*                *breach, ruin\r\n\r\nO worthy PETRO, King of CYPRE <30> also,\r\nThat Alexandre won by high mast\u2019ry,\r\nFull many a heathnen wroughtest thou full woe,\r\nOf which thine owen lieges had envy;\r\nAnd, for no thing but for thy chivalry,\r\nThey in thy bed have slain thee by the morrow;\r\nThus can Fortune her wheel govern and gie,*                       *guide\r\nAnd out of joy bringe men into sorrow.\r\n\r\nOf Milan greate BARNABO VISCOUNT,<30>\r\nGod of delight, and scourge of Lombardy,\r\nWhy should I not thine clomben*  wert so high?                  *climbed\r\nThy brother\u2019s son, that was thy double ally,\r\nFor he thy nephew was and son-in-law,\r\nWithin his prison made thee to die,\r\nBut why, nor how, *n\u2019ot I* that thou were slaw.*    *I know not* *slain*\r\n\r\nOf th\u2019 Earl HUGOLIN OF PISE the languour*                         *agony\r\nThere may no tongue telle for pity.\r\nBut little out of Pisa stands a tow\u2019r,\r\nIn whiche tow\u2019r in prison put was he,\r\nAud with him be his little children three;\r\nThe eldest scarcely five years was of age;\r\nAlas! Fortune, it was great cruelty\r\nSuch birdes for to put in such a cage.\r\n\r\nDamned was he to die in that prison;\r\nFor Roger, which that bishop was of Pise,\r\nHad on him made a false suggestion,\r\nThrough which the people gan upon him rise,\r\nAnd put him in prison, in such a wise\r\nAs ye have heard; and meat and drink he had\r\nSo small, that well unneth* it might suffice,                  *scarcely\r\nAnd therewithal it was full poor and bad.\r\n\r\nAnd on a day befell, that in that hour\r\nWhen that his meate wont was to be brought,\r\nThe jailor shut the doores of the tow\u2019r;\r\nHe heard it right well, but he spake nought.\r\nAnd in his heart anon there fell a thought,\r\nThat they for hunger woulde *do him dien;*            *cause him to die*\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201calas that I was wrought!\u201d*                *made, born\r\nTherewith the teares fell from his eyen.\r\n\r\nHis youngest son, that three years was of age,\r\nUnto him said, \u201cFather, why do ye weep?\r\nWhen will the jailor bringen our pottage?\r\nIs there no morsel bread that ye do keep?\r\nI am so hungry, that I may not sleep.\r\nNow woulde God that I might sleepen ever!\r\nThen should not hunger in my wombe* creep;                      *stomach\r\nThere is no thing, save bread, that one were lever.\u201d*            *dearer\r\n\r\nThus day by day this child begun to cry,\r\nTill in his father\u2019s barme* adown he lay,                           *lap\r\nAnd saide, \u201cFarewell, father, I must die;\u201d\r\nAnd kiss\u2019d his father, and died the same day.\r\nAnd when the woeful father did it sey,*                             *see\r\nFor woe his armes two he gan to bite,\r\nAnd said, \u201cAlas! Fortune, and well-away!\r\nTo thy false wheel my woe all may I wite.\u201d*                       *blame\r\n\r\nHis children ween\u2019d that it for hunger was\r\nThat he his armes gnaw\u2019d, and not for woe,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cFather, do not so, alas!\r\nBut rather eat the flesh upon us two.\r\nOur flesh thou gave us, our flesh take us fro\u2019,\r\nAnd eat enough;\u201d right thus they to him said.\r\nAnd after that, within a day or two,\r\nThey laid them in his lap adown, and died.\r\n\r\nHimself, despaired, eke for hunger starf.*                         *died\r\nThus ended is this Earl of Pise;\r\nFrom high estate Fortune away him carf.*                        *cut off\r\nOf this tragedy it ought enough suffice\r\nWhoso will hear it *in a longer wise,*               *at greater length*\r\nReade the greate poet of ltale,\r\nThat Dante hight, for he can it devise <32>\r\nFrom point to point, not one word will he fail.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Monk\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Monk\u2019s Tale is founded in its main features on\r\nBocccacio\u2019s work, \u201cDe Casibus Virorum Illustrium;\u201d (\u201cStories\r\nof Illustrious Men\u201d) but Chaucer has taken the separate stories\r\nof which it is composed from different authors, and dealt with\r\nthem after his own fashion.\r\n\r\n 2. Boccaccio opens his book with Adam, whose story is told at\r\nmuch greater length than here. Lydgate, in his translation from\r\nBoccaccio, speaks of Adam and Eve as made  \u201cof slime of the\r\nerth in Damascene the felde.\u201d\r\n\r\n3.  Judges xiii. 3. Boccaccio also tells the story of Samson; but\r\nChaucer seems, by his quotation a few lines below, to have\r\ntaken his version direct from the sacred book.\r\n\r\n4. Oliveres: olive trees; French, \u201coliviers.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. \u201cLiber Judicum,\u201d the Book of Judges; chap. xv.\r\n\r\n6. Querne:  mill; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201ccyrran,\u201d to turn,\r\n\u201ccweorn,\u201d a mill,\r\n\r\n7.Harpies: the Stymphalian Birds, which fed on human flesh.\r\n\r\n8.  Busiris, king of Egypt, was wont to sacrifice all foreigners\r\ncoming to his dominions. Hercules was seized, bound, and led\r\nto the altar by his orders, but the hero broke his bonds and slew\r\nthe tyrant.\r\n\r\n9. The feats of Hercules here recorded are not all these known\r\nas the \u201ctwelve labours;\u201d for instance, the cleansing of the\r\nAugean stables, and the capture of Hippolyte\u2019s girdle are not in\r\nthis list \u2014 other and less famous deeds of the hero taking their\r\nplace. For this, however, we must accuse not Chaucer, but\r\nBoethius, whom he has almost literally translated, though with\r\nsome change of order.\r\n\r\n10. Trophee:  One of the manuscripts has a marginal reference\r\nto \u201cTropheus vates Chaldaeorum\u201d (\u201cTropheus the prophet of\r\nthe Chaldees\u201d); but it is not known what author Chaucer meant\r\n\u2014 unless the reference is to a passage in the \u201cFilostrato\u201d of\r\nBoccaccio, on which Chaucer founded his \u201cTroilus and\r\nCressida,\u201d and which Lydgate mentions, under the name of\r\n\u201cTrophe,\u201d as having been translated by Chaucer.\r\n\r\n11. Pres: near; French, \u201cpres;\u201d the meaning seems to be, this\r\nnearer, lower world.\r\n\r\n12 Chaucer has taken the story of Zenobia from Boccaccio\u2019s\r\nwork \u201cDe Claris Mulieribus.\u201d (\u201cOf Illustrious Women\u201d)\r\n\r\n13.  Odenatus, who, for his services to the Romans, received\r\nfrom Gallienus the title of  \u201cAugustus;\u201d he was assassinated in\r\nA.D. 266 \u2014 not, it was believed, without the connivance of\r\nZenobia, who succeeded him on the throne.\r\n\r\n14. Sapor was king of Persia, who made the Emperor Valerian\r\nprisoner, conquered Syria, and was pressing triumphantly\r\nwestward when he was met and defeated by Odenatus and\r\nZenobia.\r\n\r\n15. Aurelain became Emperor in A.D. 270.\r\n\r\n16. Vitremite:  The signification of this word,  which is spelled\r\nin several ways, is not known. Skinner\u2019s explanation, \u201canother\r\nattire,\u201d founded on the spelling \u201cautremite,\u201d is obviously\r\ninsufficient.\r\n\r\n17. Great part of this \u201ctragedy\u201d of Nero is really borrowed,\r\nhowever, from the \u201cRomance of the Rose.\u201d\r\n\r\n18. Trice:  thrust; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cthriccan.\u201d\r\n\r\n19. So, in the Man of  Law\u2019s Tale, the Sultaness promises her\r\nson that she will \u201creny her lay.\u201d\r\n\r\n20. As the \u201ctragedy\u201d of Holofernes is founded on the book of\r\nJudith, so is that of Antiochus on the Second Book of the\r\nMaccabees, chap. ix.\r\n\r\n21. By the insurgents under the leadership of Judas Maccabeus;\r\n2 Macc. chap. viii.\r\n\r\n22. Six:  the highest cast on a dicing-cube; here representing the\r\nhighest favour of fortune.\r\n\r\n23. Pompey had married his daughter Julia to Caesar; but she\r\ndied six years before Pompey\u2019s final overthrow.\r\n\r\n24. At the battle of Pharsalia, B.C. 48.\r\n\r\n25. Word and end: apparently a corruption of the Anglo-Saxon\r\nphrase, \u201cord and end,\u201d meaning the whole, the beginning and\r\nthe end.\r\n\r\n26. At the opening of the story of Croesus, Chaucer has copied\r\nfrom his own translation of Boethius; but the story is mainly\r\ntaken from the \u201cRomance of the Rose\u201d\r\n\r\n27. \u201cThis reflection,\u201d says Tyrwhttt, \u201cseems to have been\r\nsuggested by one which follows soon after the mention of\r\nCroesus in the passage just cited from Boethius. \u2018What other\r\nthing bewail the cryings of tragedies but only the deeds of\r\nfortune, that with an awkward stroke, overturneth the realms of\r\ngreat nobley?\u2019\u201d \u2014  in some manuscripts the four \u201ctragedies\u201d that\r\nfollow are placed between those of Zenobia and Nero; but\r\nalthough the general reflection with which the \u201ctragedy\u201d of\r\nCroesus closes might most appropriately wind up the whole\r\nseries, the general chronological arrangement which is observed\r\nin the other cases recommends the order followed in the text.\r\nBesides, since, like several other Tales, the Monk\u2019s tragedies\r\nwere cut short by the impatience of the auditors, it is more\r\nnatural that the Tale should close abruptly, than by such a\r\nrhetorical finish as these lines afford.\r\n\r\n28. Pedro the Cruel, King of Aragon, against whom his brother\r\nHenry rebelled. He was by false pretences inveigled into his\r\nbrother\u2019s tent, and treacherously slain. Mr Wright has remarked\r\nthat \u201cthe cause of Pedro, though he was no better than a cruel\r\nand reckless tyrant, was popular in England from the very\r\ncircumstance that Prince Edward (the Black Prince) had\r\nembarked in it.\u201d\r\n\r\n29. Not the Oliver of Charlemagne \u2014 but a traitorous Oliver of\r\nArmorica, corrupted by a bribe. Ganilion was the betrayer of\r\nthe Christian army at Roncevalles (see note 9 to the Shipman\u2019s\r\nTale); and his name appears to have been for a long time used in\r\nFrance to denote a traitor. Duguesclin, who betrayed Pedro into\r\nhis brother\u2019s tent, seems to be intended by the term \u201cGanilion\r\nOliver,\u201d but if so, Chaucer has mistaken his name, which was\r\nBertrand \u2014 perhaps confounding him, as Tyrwhttt suggests,\r\nwith Oliver du Clisson, another illustrious Breton of those\r\ntimes, who was also Constable of France, after Duguesclin. The\r\narms of the latter are supposed to be described a little above\r\n\r\n30. Pierre de Lusignan, King of Cyprus, who captured\r\nAlexandria in 1363 (see note 6 to the Prologue to the Tales).\r\nHe was assassinated in 1369.\r\n\r\n31. Bernabo Visconti, Duke of Milan, was deposed and\r\nimprisoned by his nephew, and died a captive in 1385. His death\r\nis the latest historical fact mentioned in the Tales; and thus it\r\nthrows the date of their composition to about the sixtieth year\r\nof Chaucer\u2019s age.\r\n\r\n32. The story of Ugolino is told in the 33rd Canto of the\r\n\u201cInferno.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE NUN\u2019S PRIEST\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\n\u201cHo!\u201d quoth the Knight, \u201cgood sir, no more of this;\r\nThat ye have said is right enough, y-wis,*                  *of a surety\r\nAnd muche more; for little heaviness\r\nIs right enough to muche folk, I guess.\r\nI say for me, it is a great disease,*     *source of distress, annoyance\r\nWhere as men have been in great wealth and ease,\r\nTo hearen of their sudden fall, alas!\r\nAnd the contrary is joy and great solas,*              *delight, comfort\r\nAs when a man hath been in poor estate,\r\nAnd climbeth up, and waxeth fortunate,\r\nAnd there abideth in prosperity;\r\nSuch thing is gladsome, as it thinketh me,\r\nAnd of such thing were goodly for to tell.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYea,\u201d quoth our Hoste, \u201cby Saint Paule\u2019s bell.\r\nYe say right sooth; this monk hath clapped* loud;                *talked\r\nHe spake how Fortune cover\u2019d with a cloud\r\nI wot not what, and als\u2019 of a tragedy\r\nRight now ye heard: and pardie no remedy\r\nIt is for to bewaile, nor complain\r\nThat that is done, and also it is pain,\r\nAs ye have said, to hear of heaviness.\r\nSir Monk, no more of this, so God you bless;\r\nYour tale annoyeth all this company;\r\nSuch talking is not worth a butterfly,\r\nFor therein is there no sport nor game;\r\nTherefore, Sir Monke, Dan Piers by your name,\r\nI pray you heart\u2019ly, tell us somewhat else,\r\nFor sickerly, n\u2019ere* clinking of your bells,        *were it not for the\r\nThat on your bridle hang on every side,\r\nBy heaven\u2019s king, that for us alle died,\r\nI should ere this have fallen down for sleep,\r\nAlthough the slough had been never so deep;\r\nThen had your tale been all told in vain.\r\nFor certainly, as these clerkes sayn,\r\nWhere as a man may have no audience,\r\nNought helpeth it to telle his sentence.\r\nAnd well I wot the substance is in me,\r\nIf anything shall well reported be.\r\nSir, say somewhat of hunting, <1> I you pray.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the Monk, \u201cI have *no lust to play;*       *no fondness for\r\nNow let another tell, as I have told.\u201d                          jesting*\r\nThen spake our Host with rude speech and bold,\r\nAnd said unto the Nunne\u2019s Priest anon,\r\n\u201cCome near, thou Priest, come hither, thou Sir John, <2>\r\nTell us such thing as may our heartes glade.*                   *gladden\r\nBe blithe, although thou ride upon a jade.\r\nWhat though thine horse be bothe foul and lean?\r\nIf he will serve thee, reck thou not a bean;\r\nLook that thine heart be merry evermo\u2019.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYes, Host,\u201d quoth he, \u201cso may I ride or go,\r\nBut* I be merry, y-wis I will be blamed.\u201d                        *unless\r\nAnd right anon his tale he hath attamed*                  *commenced <3>\r\nAnd thus he said unto us every one,\r\nThis sweete priest, this goodly man, Sir John.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The request is justified by the description of Monk in the\r\nPrologue as \u201can out-rider, that loved venery.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. On this Tyrwhitt remarks; \u201cI know not how it has happened,\r\nthat in the principal modern languages, John, or its equivalent,\r\nis a name of contempt or at least of slight.  So the Italians use\r\n\u2018Gianni,\u2019 from whence \u2018Zani;\u2019 the Spaniards \u2018Juan,\u2019 as \u2018Bobo\r\nJuan,\u2019 a foolish John; the French \u2018Jean,\u2019 with various additions;\r\nand in English, when we call a man \u2018a John,\u2019 we do not mean it\r\nas a title of honour.\u201d  The title of \u201cSir\u201d was usually given by\r\ncourtesy to priests.\r\n\r\n3. Attamed: commenced, broached. Compare French, \u201centamer\u201d,\r\nto cut the first piece off a joint; thence to begin.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nA poor widow, *somedeal y-stept* in age,             *somewhat advanced*\r\nWas whilom dwelling in a poor cottage,\r\nBeside a grove, standing in a dale.\r\nThis widow, of which I telle you my tale,\r\nSince thilke day that she was last a wife,\r\nIn patience led a full simple life,\r\nFor little was *her chattel and her rent.*    *her goods and her income*\r\nBy husbandry* of such as God her sent,               *thrifty management\r\nShe found* herself, and eke her daughters two.               *maintained\r\nThree large sowes had she, and no mo\u2019;\r\nThree kine, and eke a sheep that highte Mall.\r\nFull sooty was her bow\u2019r,* and eke her hall,                    *chamber\r\nIn which she ate full many a slender meal.\r\nOf poignant sauce knew she never a deal.*                          *whit\r\nNo dainty morsel passed through her throat;\r\nHer diet was *accordant to her cote.*      *in keeping with her cottage*\r\nRepletion her made never sick;\r\nAttemper* diet was all her physic,                             *moderate\r\nAnd exercise, and *hearte\u2019s suffisance.*          *contentment of heart*\r\nThe goute *let her nothing for to dance,*           *did not prevent her\r\nNor apoplexy shente* not her head.                 from dancing*   *hurt\r\nNo wine drank she, neither white nor red:\r\nHer board was served most with white and black,\r\nMilk and brown bread, in which she found no lack,\r\nSeind* bacon, and sometimes an egg or tway;                      *singed\r\nFor she was as it were *a manner dey.*        *kind of day labourer* <2>\r\nA yard she had, enclosed all about\r\nWith stickes, and a drye ditch without,\r\nIn which she had a cock, hight Chanticleer;\r\nIn all the land of crowing *n\u2019as his peer.*          *was not his equal*\r\nHis voice was merrier than the merry orgon,*                  *organ <3>\r\nOn masse days that in the churches gon.\r\nWell sickerer* was his crowing in his lodge,             *more punctual*\r\nThan is a clock, or an abbay horloge.*                        *clock <4>\r\nBy nature he knew each ascension\r\nOf th\u2019 equinoctial in thilke town;\r\nFor when degrees fiftene were ascended,\r\nThen crew he, that it might not be amended.\r\nHis comb was redder than the fine coral,\r\nEmbattell\u2019d <5> as it were a castle wall.\r\nHis bill was black, and as the jet it shone;\r\nLike azure were his legges and his tone;*                          *toes\r\nHis nailes whiter than the lily flow\u2019r,\r\nAnd like the burnish\u2019d gold was his colour,\r\nThis gentle cock had in his governance\r\nSev\u2019n hennes, for to do all his pleasance,\r\nWhich were his sisters and his paramours,\r\nAnd wondrous like to him as of colours.\r\nOf which the fairest-hued in the throat\r\nWas called Damoselle Partelote,\r\nCourteous she was, discreet, and debonair,\r\nAnd companiable,* and bare herself so fair,                    *sociable\r\nSince the day that she sev\u2019n night was old,\r\nThat truely she had the heart in hold\r\nOf Chanticleer, locked in every lith;*                             *limb\r\nHe lov\u2019d her so, that well was him therewith,\r\nBut such a joy it was to hear them sing,\r\nWhen that the brighte sunne gan to spring,\r\nIn sweet accord, *\u201cMy lefe is fare in land.\u201d* <6>            *my love is\r\nFor, at that time, as I have understand,                    gone abroad*\r\nBeastes and birdes coulde speak and sing.\r\n\r\nAnd so befell, that in a dawening,\r\nAs Chanticleer among his wives all\r\nSat on his perche, that was in the hall,\r\nAnd next him sat this faire Partelote,\r\nThis Chanticleer gan groanen in his throat,\r\nAs man that in his dream is dretched* sore,                   *oppressed\r\nAnd when that Partelote thus heard him roar,\r\nShe was aghast,* and saide, \u201cHearte dear,                        *afraid\r\nWhat aileth you to groan in this mannere?\r\nYe be a very sleeper, fy for shame!\u201d\r\nAnd he answer\u2019d and saide thus; \u201cMadame,\r\nI pray you that ye take it not agrief;*               *amiss, in umbrage\r\nBy God, *me mette* I was in such mischief,**       *I dreamed* **trouble\r\nRight now, that yet mine heart is sore affright\u2019.\r\nNow God,\u201d quoth he, \u201cmy sweven* read aright              *dream, vision.\r\nAnd keep my body out of foul prisoun.\r\n*Me mette,* how that I roamed up and down                    *I dreamed*\r\nWithin our yard, where as I saw a beast\r\nWas like an hound, and would have *made arrest*                 *siezed*\r\nUpon my body, and would have had me dead.\r\nHis colour was betwixt yellow and red;\r\nAnd tipped was his tail, and both his ears,\r\nWith black, unlike the remnant of his hairs.\r\nHis snout was small, with glowing eyen tway;\r\nYet of his look almost for fear I dey;*                            *died\r\nThis caused me my groaning, doubteless.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAway,\u201d <7> quoth she, \u201cfy on you, hearteless!*                  *coward\r\nAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201cfor, by that God above!\r\nNow have ye lost my heart and all my love;\r\nI cannot love a coward, by my faith.\r\nFor certes, what so any woman saith,\r\nWe all desiren, if it mighte be,\r\nTo have husbandes hardy, wise, and free,\r\nAnd secret,* and no niggard nor no fool,                       *discreet\r\nNor him that is aghast* of every tool,**           *afraid **rag, trifle\r\nNor no avantour,* by that God above!                           *braggart\r\nHow durste ye for shame say to your love\r\nThat anything might make you afear\u2019d?\r\nHave ye no manne\u2019s heart, and have a beard?\r\nAlas! and can ye be aghast of swevenes?*                         *dreams\r\nNothing but vanity, God wot, in sweven is,\r\nSwevens *engender of repletions,*            *are caused by over-eating*\r\nAnd oft of fume,* and of complexions,                       *drunkenness\r\nWhen humours be too abundant in a wight.\r\nCertes this dream, which ye have mette tonight,\r\nCometh of the great supefluity\r\nOf youre rede cholera,* pardie,                                    *bile\r\nWhich causeth folk to dreaden in their dreams\r\nOf arrows, and of fire with redde beams,\r\nOf redde beastes, that they will them bite,\r\nOf conteke,* and of whelpes great and lite;**       *contention **little\r\nRight as the humour of melancholy\r\nCauseth full many a man in sleep to cry,\r\nFor fear of bulles, or of beares blake,\r\nOr elles that black devils will them take,\r\nOf other humours could I tell also,\r\nThat worke many a man in sleep much woe;\r\nThat I will pass as lightly as I can.\r\nLo, Cato, which that was so wise a man,\r\nSaid he not thus, *\u2018Ne do no force of* dreams,\u2019<8>\t*attach no weight to*\r\nNow, Sir,\u201d quoth she, \u201cwhen we fly from these beams,\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, as take some laxatife;\r\nOn peril of my soul, and of my life,\r\nI counsel you the best, I will not lie,\r\nThat both of choler, and melancholy,\r\nYe purge you; and, for ye shall not tarry,\r\nThough in this town is no apothecary,\r\nI shall myself two herbes teache you,\r\nThat shall be for your health, and for your prow;*               *profit\r\nAnd in our yard the herbes shall I find,\r\nThe which have of their property by kind*                        *nature\r\nTo purge you beneath, and eke above.\r\nSire, forget not this for Godde\u2019s love;\r\nYe be full choleric of complexion;\r\nWare that the sun, in his ascension,\r\nYou finde not replete of humours hot;\r\nAnd if it do, I dare well lay a groat,\r\nThat ye shall have a fever tertiane,\r\nOr else an ague, that may be your bane,\r\nA day or two ye shall have digestives\r\nOf wormes, ere ye take your laxatives,\r\nOf laurel, centaury, <9> and fumeterere, <10>\r\nOr else of elder-berry, that groweth there,\r\nOf catapuce, <11> or of the gaitre-berries, <12>\r\nOr herb ivy growing in our yard, that merry is:\r\nPick them right as they grow, and eat them in,\r\nBe merry, husband, for your father\u2019s kin;\r\nDreade no dream; I can say you no more.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cgrand mercy of your lore,\r\nBut natheless, as touching *Dan Catoun,*                           *Cato\r\nThat hath of wisdom such a great renown,\r\nThough that he bade no dreames for to dread,\r\nBy God, men may in olde bookes read\r\nOf many a man more of authority\r\nThan ever Cato was, so may I the,*                               *thrive\r\nThat all the reverse say of his sentence,*                      *opinion\r\nAnd have well founden by experience\r\nThat dreames be significations\r\nAs well of joy, as tribulations\r\nThat folk enduren in this life present.\r\nThere needeth make of this no argument;\r\nThe very preve* sheweth it indeed.                    *trial, experience\r\nOne of the greatest authors that men read <13>\r\nSaith thus, that whilom two fellowes went\r\nOn pilgrimage in a full good intent;\r\nAnd happen\u2019d so, they came into a town\r\nWhere there was such a congregatioun\r\nOf people, and eke so *strait of herbergage,*          *without lodging*\r\nThat they found not as much as one cottage\r\nIn which they bothe might y-lodged be:\r\nWherefore they musten of necessity,\r\nAs for that night, departe company;\r\nAnd each of them went to his hostelry,*                             *inn\r\nAnd took his lodging as it woulde fall.\r\nThe one of them was lodged in a stall,\r\nFar in a yard, with oxen of the plough;\r\nThat other man was lodged well enow,\r\nAs was his aventure, or his fortune,\r\nThat us governeth all, as in commune.\r\nAnd so befell, that, long ere it were day,\r\nThis man mette* in his bed, there: as he lay,                   *dreamed\r\nHow that his fellow gan upon him call,\r\nAnd said, \u2018Alas! for in an ox\u2019s stall\r\nThis night shall I be murder\u2019d, where I lie\r\nNow help me, deare brother, or I die;\r\nIn alle haste come to me,\u2019 he said.\r\nThis man out of his sleep for fear abraid;*                     *started\r\nBut when that he was wak\u2019d out of his sleep,\r\nHe turned him, and *took of this no keep;*      *paid this no attention*\r\nHe thought his dream was but a vanity.\r\nThus twies* in his sleeping dreamed he,                           *twice\r\nAnd at the thirde time yet his fellaw again\r\nCame, as he thought, and said, \u2018I am now slaw;*                   *slain\r\nBehold my bloody woundes, deep and wide.\r\nArise up early, in the morning, tide,\r\nAnd at the west gate of the town,\u2019 quoth he,\r\n\u2018A carte full of dung there shalt: thou see,\r\nIn which my body is hid privily.\r\nDo thilke cart arroste* boldely.                                   *stop\r\nMy gold caused my murder, sooth to sayn.\u2019\r\nAnd told him every point how he was slain,\r\nWith a full piteous face, and pale of hue.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, truste well, his dream he found full true;\r\nFor on the morrow, as soon as it was day,\r\nTo his fellowes inn he took his way;\r\nAnd when that he came to this ox\u2019s stall,\r\nAfter his fellow he began to call.\r\nThe hostelere answered him anon,\r\nAnd saide, \u2018Sir, your fellow is y-gone,\r\nAs soon as day he went out of the town.\u2019\r\nThis man gan fallen in suspicioun,\r\nRememb\u2019ring on his dreames that he mette,*                      *dreamed\r\nAnd forth he went, no longer would he let,*                       *delay\r\nUnto the west gate of the town, and fand*                         *found\r\nA dung cart, as it went for to dung land,\r\nThat was arrayed in the same wise\r\nAs ye have heard the deade man devise;*                        *describe\r\nAnd with an hardy heart he gan to cry,\r\n\u2018Vengeance and justice of this felony:\r\nMy fellow murder\u2019d in this same night\r\nAnd in this cart he lies, gaping upright.\r\nI cry out on the ministers,\u2019 quoth he.\r\n\u2018That shoulde keep and rule this city;\r\nHarow! alas! here lies my fellow slain.\u2019\r\nWhat should I more unto this tale sayn?\r\nThe people out start, and cast the cart to ground\r\nAnd in the middle of the dung they found\r\nThe deade man, that murder\u2019d was all new.\r\nO blissful God! that art so good and true,\r\nLo, how that thou bewray\u2019st murder alway.\r\nMurder will out, that see we day by day.\r\nMurder is so wlatsom* and abominable                          *loathsome\r\nTo God, that is so just and reasonable,\r\nThat he will not suffer it heled* be;                    *concealed <14>\r\nThough it abide a year, or two, or three,\r\nMurder will out, this is my conclusioun,\r\nAnd right anon, the ministers of the town\r\nHave hent* the carter, and so sore him pined,**       *seized **tortured\r\nAnd eke the hostelere so sore engined,*                          *racked\r\nThat they beknew* their wickedness anon,                      *confessed\r\nAnd were hanged by the necke bone.\r\n\r\n\u201cHere may ye see that dreames be to dread.\r\nAnd certes in the same book I read,\r\nRight in the nexte chapter after this\r\n(I gabbe* not, so have I joy and bliss),                      *talk idly\r\nTwo men that would, have passed over sea,\r\nFor certain cause, into a far country,\r\nIf that the wind not hadde been contrary,\r\nThat made them in a city for to tarry,\r\nThat stood full merry upon an haven side;\r\nBut on a day, against the even-tide,\r\nThe wind gan change, and blew right *as them lest.*     *as they wished*\r\nJolly and glad they wente to their rest,\r\nAnd caste* them full early for to sail.                        *resolved\r\nBut to the one man fell a great marvail\r\nThat one of them, in sleeping as he lay,\r\nHe mette* a wondrous dream, against the day:                    *dreamed\r\nHe thought a man stood by his bedde\u2019s side,\r\nAnd him commanded that he should abide;\r\nAnd said him thus; \u2018If thou to-morrow wend,\r\nThou shalt be drown\u2019d; my tale is at an end.\u2019\r\nHe woke, and told his follow what he mette,\r\nAnd prayed him his voyage for to let;*                            *delay\r\nAs for that day, he pray\u2019d him to abide.\r\nHis fellow, that lay by his bedde\u2019s side,\r\nGan for to laugh, and scorned him full fast.\r\n\u2018No dream,\u2019 quoth he,\u2019may so my heart aghast,*                 *frighten\r\nThat I will lette* for to do my things.*                          *delay\r\nI sette not a straw by thy dreamings,\r\nFor swevens* be but vanities and japes.**        *dreams **jokes,deceits\r\nMen dream all day of owles and of apes,\r\nAnd eke of many a maze* therewithal;                     *wild imagining\r\nMen dream of thing that never was, nor shall.\r\nBut since I see, that thou wilt here abide,\r\nAnd thus forslothe* wilfully thy tide,**               *idle away **time\r\nGod wot, *it rueth me;* and have good day.\u2019          *I am sorry for it*\r\nAnd thus he took his leave, and went his way.\r\nBut, ere that he had half his course sail\u2019d,\r\nI know not why, nor what mischance it ail\u2019d,\r\nBut casually* the ship\u2019s bottom rent,                       *by accident\r\nAnd ship and man under the water went,\r\nIn sight of other shippes there beside\r\nThat with him sailed at the same tide.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd therefore, faire Partelote so dear,\r\nBy such examples olde may\u2019st thou lear,*                          *learn\r\nThat no man shoulde be too reckeless\r\nOf dreames, for I say thee doubteless,\r\nThat many a dream full sore is for to dread.\r\nLo, in the life of Saint Kenelm <15> I read,\r\nThat was Kenulphus\u2019 son, the noble king\r\nOf Mercenrike, <16> how Kenelm mette a thing.\r\nA little ere he was murder\u2019d on a day,\r\nHis murder in his vision he say.*                                   *saw\r\nHis norice* him expounded every deal**                     *nurse **part\r\nHis sweven, and bade him to keep* him well                        *guard\r\nFor treason; but he was but seven years old,\r\nAnd therefore *little tale hath he told*             *he attached little\r\nOf any dream, so holy was his heart.                    significance to*\r\nBy God, I hadde lever than my shirt\r\nThat ye had read his legend, as have I.\r\nDame Partelote, I say you truely,\r\nMacrobius, that wrote the vision\r\nIn Afric\u2019 of the worthy Scipion, <17>\r\nAffirmeth dreames, and saith that they be\r\n\u2018Warnings of thinges that men after see.\r\nAnd furthermore, I pray you looke well\r\nIn the Old Testament, of Daniel,\r\nIf he held dreames any vanity.\r\nRead eke of Joseph, and there shall ye see\r\nWhether dreams be sometimes (I say not all)\r\nWarnings of thinges that shall after fall.\r\nLook of Egypt the king, Dan Pharaoh,\r\nHis baker and his buteler also,\r\nWhether they felte none effect* in dreams.                 *significance\r\nWhoso will seek the acts of sundry remes*                        *realms\r\nMay read of dreames many a wondrous thing.\r\nLo Croesus, which that was of Lydia king,\r\nMette he not that he sat upon a tree,\r\nWhich signified he shoulde hanged be? <18>\r\nLo here, Andromache, Hectore\u2019s wife, <19>\r\nThat day that Hector shoulde lose his life,\r\nShe dreamed on the same night beforn,\r\nHow that the life of Hector should be lorn,*                       *lost\r\nIf thilke day he went into battaile;\r\nShe warned him, but it might not avail;\r\nHe wente forth to fighte natheless,\r\nAnd was y-slain anon of Achilles.\r\nBut thilke tale is all too long to tell;\r\nAnd eke it is nigh day, I may not dwell.\r\nShortly I say, as for conclusion,\r\nThat I shall have of this avision\r\nAdversity; and I say furthermore,\r\nThat I ne *tell of laxatives no store,*                  *hold laxatives\r\nFor they be venomous, I wot it well;                        of no value*\r\nI them defy,* I love them never a del.**                *distrust **whit\r\n\r\n\u201cBut let us speak of mirth, and stint* all this;                  *cease\r\nMadame Partelote, so have I bliss,\r\nOf one thing God hath sent me large* grace;                      liberal\r\nFor when I see the beauty of your face,\r\nYe be so scarlet-hued about your eyen,\r\nI maketh all my dreade for to dien,\r\nFor, all so sicker* as In principio,<20>                        *certain\r\nMulier est hominis confusio.<21>\r\nMadam, the sentence* of of this Latin is,                       *meaning\r\nWoman is manne\u2019s joy and manne\u2019s bliss.\r\nFor when I feel at night your softe side, \u2014\r\nAlbeit that I may not on you ride,\r\nFor that our perch is made so narrow, Alas!\r\nI am so full of joy and of solas,*                              *delight\r\nThat I defy both sweven and eke dream.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word he flew down from the beam,\r\nFor it was day, and eke his hennes all;\r\nAnd with a chuck he gan them for to call,\r\nFor he had found a corn, lay in the yard.\r\nRoyal he was, he was no more afear\u2019d;\r\nHe feather\u2019d Partelote twenty time,\r\nAnd as oft trode her, ere that it was prime.\r\nHe looked as it were a grim lion,\r\nAnd on his toes he roamed up and down;\r\nHe deigned not to set his feet to ground;\r\nHe chucked, when he had a corn y-found,\r\nAnd to him ranne then his wives all.\r\nThus royal, as a prince is in his hall,\r\nLeave I this Chanticleer in his pasture;\r\nAnd after will I tell his aventure.\r\n\r\nWhen that the month in which the world began,\r\nThat highte March, when God first maked man,\r\nWas complete, and y-passed were also,\r\nSince March ended, thirty days and two,\r\nBefell that Chanticleer in all his pride,\r\nHis seven wives walking him beside,\r\nCast up his eyen to the brighte sun,\r\nThat in the sign of Taurus had y-run\r\nTwenty degrees and one, and somewhat more;\r\nHe knew by kind,* and by none other lore,**           *nature **learning\r\nThat it was prime, and crew with blissful steven.*                *voice\r\n\u201cThe sun,\u201d he said, \u201cis clomben up in heaven\r\nTwenty degrees and one, and more y-wis.*                      *assuredly\r\nMadame Partelote, my worlde\u2019s bliss,\r\nHearken these blissful birdes how they sing,\r\nAnd see the freshe flowers how they spring;\r\nFull is mine heart of revel and solace.\u201d\r\nBut suddenly him fell a sorrowful case;*                       *casualty\r\nFor ever the latter end of joy is woe:\r\nGod wot that worldly joy is soon y-go:\r\nAnd, if a rhetor* coulde fair indite,                            *orator\r\nHe in a chronicle might it safely write,\r\nAs for *a sov\u2019reign notability*              *a thing supremely notable*\r\nNow every wise man, let him hearken me;\r\nThis story is all as true, I undertake,\r\nAs is the book of Launcelot du Lake,\r\nThat women hold in full great reverence.\r\nNow will I turn again to my sentence.\r\n\r\nA col-fox, <22> full of sly iniquity,\r\nThat in the grove had wonned* yeares three,                       *dwelt\r\nBy high imagination forecast,\r\nThe same night thorough the hedges brast*                         *burst\r\nInto the yard, where Chanticleer the fair\r\nWas wont, and eke his wives, to repair;\r\nAnd in a bed of wortes* still he lay,                          *cabbages\r\nTill it was passed undern <23> of the day,\r\nWaiting his time on Chanticleer to fall:\r\nAs gladly do these homicides all,\r\nThat in awaite lie to murder men.\r\nO false murd\u2019rer! Rouking* in thy den!               *crouching, lurking\r\nO new Iscariot, new Ganilion! <24>\r\nO false dissimuler, O Greek Sinon,<25>\r\nThat broughtest Troy all utterly to sorrow!\r\nO Chanticleer! accursed be the morrow\r\nThat thou into thy yard flew from the beams;*                   *rafters\r\nThou wert full well y-warned by thy dreams\r\nThat thilke day was perilous to thee.\r\nBut what that God forewot* must needes be,                    *foreknows\r\nAfter th\u2019 opinion of certain clerkes.\r\nWitness on him that any perfect clerk is,\r\nThat in school is great altercation\r\nIn this matter, and great disputation,\r\nAnd hath been of an hundred thousand men.\r\nBut I ne cannot *boult it to the bren,*     *examine it thoroughly <26>*\r\nAs can the holy doctor Augustine,\r\nOr Boece, or the bishop Bradwardine,<27>\r\nWhether that Godde\u2019s worthy foreweeting*                  *foreknowledge\r\n*Straineth me needly* for to do a thing                      *forces me*\r\n(Needly call I simple necessity),\r\nOr elles if free choice be granted me\r\nTo do that same thing, or do it not,\r\nThough God forewot* it ere that it was wrought;         *knew in advance\r\nOr if *his weeting straineth never a deal,*      *his knowing constrains\r\nBut by necessity conditionel.                                not at all*\r\nI will not have to do of such mattere;\r\nMy tale is of a cock, as ye may hear,\r\nThat took his counsel of his wife, with sorrow,\r\nTo walken in the yard upon the morrow\r\nThat he had mette the dream, as I you told.\r\nWomane\u2019s counsels be full often cold;*              *mischievous, unwise\r\nWomane\u2019s counsel brought us first to woe,\r\nAnd made Adam from Paradise to go,\r\nThere as he was full merry and well at case.\r\nBut, for I n\u2019ot* to whom I might displease                     *know not\r\nIf I counsel of women woulde blame,\r\nPass over, for I said it in my game.*                              *jest\r\nRead authors, where they treat of such mattere\r\nAnd what they say of women ye may hear.\r\nThese be the cocke\u2019s wordes, and not mine;\r\nI can no harm of no woman divine.*                  *conjecture, imagine\r\nFair in the sand, to bathe* her merrily,                           *bask\r\nLies Partelote, and all her sisters by,\r\nAgainst the sun, and Chanticleer so free\r\nSang merrier than the mermaid in the sea;\r\nFor Physiologus saith sickerly,*                              *certainly\r\nHow that they singe well and merrily. <28>\r\nAnd so befell that, as he cast his eye\r\nAmong the wortes,* on a butterfly,                             *cabbages\r\nHe was ware of this fox that lay full low.\r\nNothing *ne list him thenne* for to crow,        *he had no inclination*\r\nBut cried anon \u201cCock! cock!\u201d and up he start,\r\nAs man that was affrayed in his heart.\r\nFor naturally a beast desireth flee\r\nFrom his contrary,* if be may it see,                             *enemy\r\nThough he *ne\u2019er erst* had soon it with his eye           *never before*\r\nThis Chanticleer, when he gan him espy,\r\nHe would have fled, but that the fox anon\r\nSaid, \u201cGentle Sir, alas! why will ye gon?\r\nBe ye afraid of me that am your friend?\r\nNow, certes, I were worse than any fiend,\r\nIf I to you would harm or villainy.\r\nI am not come your counsel to espy.\r\nBut truely the cause of my coming\r\nWas only for to hearken how ye sing;\r\nFor truely ye have as merry a steven,*                            *voice\r\nAs any angel hath that is in heaven;\r\nTherewith ye have of music more feeling,\r\nThan had Boece, or any that can sing.\r\nMy lord your father (God his soule bless)\r\nAnd eke your mother of her gentleness,\r\nHave in mnine house been, to my great ease:*               *satisfaction\r\nAnd certes, Sir, full fain would I you please.\r\nBut, for men speak of singing, I will say,\r\nSo may I brooke* well mine eyen tway,            *enjoy, possess, or use\r\nSave you, I hearde never man so sing\r\nAs did your father in the morrowning.\r\nCertes it was of heart all that he sung.\r\nAnd, for to make his voice the more strong,\r\nHe would *so pain him,* that with both his eyen  *make such an exertion*\r\nHe muste wink, so loud he woulde cryen,\r\nAnd standen on his tiptoes therewithal,\r\nAnd stretche forth his necke long and small.\r\nAnd eke he was of such discretion,\r\nThat there was no man, in no region,\r\nThat him in song or wisdom mighte pass.\r\nI have well read in Dan Burnel the Ass, <29>\r\nAmong his verse, how that there was a cock\r\nThat, for* a prieste\u2019s son gave him a knock                     *because\r\nUpon his leg, while he was young and nice,*                     *foolish\r\nHe made him for to lose his benefice.\r\nBut certain there is no comparison\r\nBetwixt the wisdom and discretion\r\nOf youre father, and his subtilty.\r\nNow singe, Sir, for sainte charity,\r\nLet see, can ye your father counterfeit?\u201d\r\n\r\nThis Chanticleer his wings began to beat,\r\nAs man that could not his treason espy,\r\nSo was he ravish\u2019d with his flattery.\r\nAlas! ye lordes, many a false flattour*                  *flatterer <30>\r\nIs in your court, and many a losengeour, *                *deceiver <31>\r\nThat please you well more, by my faith,\r\nThan he that soothfastness* unto you saith.                       *truth\r\nRead in Ecclesiast\u2019 of flattery;\r\nBeware, ye lordes, of their treachery.\r\nThis Chanticleer stood high upon his toes,\r\nStretching his neck, and held his eyen close,\r\nAnd gan to crowe loude for the nonce\r\nAnd Dan Russel <32> the fox start up at once,\r\nAnd *by the gorge hente* Chanticleer,             *seized by the throat*\r\nAnd on his back toward the wood him bare.\r\nFor yet was there no man that him pursu\u2019d.\r\nO  destiny, that may\u2019st not be eschew\u2019d!*                       *escaped\r\nAlas, that Chanticleer flew from the beams!\r\nAlas, his wife raughte* nought of dreams!                      *regarded\r\nAnd on a Friday fell all this mischance.\r\nO Venus, that art goddess of pleasance,\r\nSince that thy servant was this Chanticleer\r\nAnd in thy service did all his powere,\r\nMore for delight, than the world to multiply,\r\nWhy wilt thou suffer him on thy day to die?\r\nO Gaufrid, deare master sovereign, <33>\r\nThat, when thy worthy king Richard was slain\r\nWith shot, complainedest his death so sore,\r\nWhy n\u2019had I now thy sentence and thy lore,\r\nThe Friday for to chiden, as did ye?\r\n(For on a Friday, soothly, slain was he),\r\nThen would I shew you how that I could plain*                    *lament\r\nFor Chanticleere\u2019s dread, and for his pain.\r\n\r\nCertes such cry nor lamentation\r\nWas ne\u2019er of ladies made, when Ilion\r\nWas won, and Pyrrhus with his straighte sword,\r\nWhen he had hent* king Priam by the beard,                       *seized\r\nAnd slain him (as saith us Eneidos*),<34>                    *The Aeneid\r\nAs maden all the hennes in the close,*                             *yard\r\nWhen they had seen of Chanticleer the sight.\r\nBut sov\u2019reignly* Dame Partelote shright,**             *above all others\r\nFull louder than did Hasdrubale\u2019s wife,                       **shrieked\r\nWhen that her husband hadde lost his life,\r\nAnd that the Romans had y-burnt Carthage;\r\nShe was so full of torment and of rage,\r\nThat wilfully into the fire she start,\r\nAnd burnt herselfe with a steadfast heart.\r\nO woeful hennes! right so cried ye,\r\nAs, when that Nero burned the city\r\nOf Rome, cried the senatores\u2019 wives,\r\nFor that their husbands losten all their lives;\r\nWithoute guilt this Nero hath them slain.\r\nNow will I turn unto my tale again;\r\n\r\nThe sely* widow, and her daughters two,                  *simple, honest\r\nHearde these hennes cry and make woe,\r\nAnd at the doors out started they anon,\r\nAnd saw the fox toward the wood is gone,\r\nAnd bare upon his back the cock away:\r\nThey cried, \u201cOut! harow! and well-away!\r\nAha! the fox!\u201d and after him they ran,\r\nAnd eke with staves many another man\r\nRan Coll our dog, and Talbot, and Garland;\r\nAnd Malkin, with her distaff in her hand\r\nRan cow and calf, and eke the very hogges\r\nSo fear\u2019d they were for barking of the dogges,\r\nAnd shouting of the men and women eke.\r\nThey ranne so, them thought their hearts would break.\r\nThey yelled as the fiendes do in hell;\r\nThe duckes cried as men would them quell;*                *kill, destroy\r\nThe geese for feare flewen o\u2019er the trees,\r\nOut of the hive came the swarm of bees,\r\nSo hideous was the noise, ben\u2019dicite!\r\nCertes he, Jacke Straw,<35> and his meinie,*                  *followers\r\nNe made never shoutes half so shrill\r\nWhen that they woulden any Fleming kill,\r\nAs thilke day was made upon the fox.\r\nOf brass they broughte beames* and of box,                *trumpets <36>\r\nOf horn and bone, in which they blew and pooped,*               **tooted\r\nAnd therewithal they shrieked and they hooped;\r\nIt seemed as the heaven shoulde fall\r\n\r\nNow, goode men, I pray you hearken all;\r\nLo, how Fortune turneth suddenly\r\nThe hope and pride eke of her enemy.\r\nThis cock, that lay upon the fox\u2019s back,\r\nIn all his dread unto the fox he spake,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cSir, if that I were as ye,\r\nYet would I say (as wisly* God help me),                         *surely\r\n\u2018Turn ye again, ye proude churles all;\r\nA very pestilence upon you fall.\r\nNow am I come unto the woode\u2019s side,\r\nMaugre your head, the cock shall here abide;\r\nI will him eat, in faith, and that anon.\u2019\u201d\r\nThe fox answer\u2019d, \u201cIn faith it shall be done:\u201d\r\nAnd, as he spake the word, all suddenly\r\nThe cock brake from his mouth deliverly,*                        *nimbly\r\nAnd high upon a tree he flew anon.\r\nAnd when the fox saw that the cock was gone,\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201cO Chanticleer, alas!\r\nI have,\u201d quoth he, \u201cy-done to you trespass,*                    *offence\r\nInasmuch as I maked you afear\u2019d,\r\nWhen I you hent,* and brought out of your yard;                    *took\r\nBut, Sir, I did it in no wick\u2019 intent;\r\nCome down, and I shall tell you what I meant.\r\nI shall say sooth to you, God help me so.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay then,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI shrew* us both the two,                  *curse\r\nAnd first I shrew myself, both blood and bones,\r\nIf thou beguile me oftener than once.\r\nThou shalt no more through thy flattery\r\nDo* me to sing and winke with mine eye;                           *cause\r\nFor he that winketh when he shoulde see,\r\nAll wilfully, God let him never the.\u201d*                           *thrive\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the fox; \u201cbut God give him mischance\r\nThat is so indiscreet of governance,\r\nThat jangleth* when that he should hold his peace.\u201d            *chatters\r\n\r\nLo, what it is for to be reckeless\r\nAnd negligent, and trust on flattery.\r\nBut ye that holde this tale a folly,\r\nAs of a fox, or of a cock or hen,\r\nTake the morality thereof, good men.\r\nFor Saint Paul saith, That all that written is,\r\n*To our doctrine it written is y-wis.* <37>       *is surely written for\r\nTake the fruit, and let the chaff be still.             our instruction*\r\n\r\nNow goode God, if that it be thy will,\r\nAs saith my Lord, <38> so make us all good men;\r\nAnd bring us all to thy high bliss. Amen.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1.  The Tale of the Nun\u2019s Priest is founded on the fifth chapter\r\nof an old French metrical \u201cRomance of Renard;\u201d the same story\r\nforming one of the fables of Marie, the translator of the Breton\r\nLays. (See note 2 to the Prologue to the Franklin\u2019s Tale.)\r\nAlthough Dryden was in error when he ascribed the Tale to\r\nChaucer\u2019s own invention, still the materials on which he had to\r\noperate were out of cornparison more trivial than the result.\r\n\r\n2.  Tyrwhitt quotes two statutes of Edward III, in which \u201cdeys\u201d\r\nare included among the servants employed in agricultural\r\npursuits; the name seems to have originally meant a servant who\r\ngave his labour by the day, but afterwards to have been\r\nappropriated exclusively to one who superintended or worked\r\nin a dairy.\r\n\r\n3. Orgon: here licentiously used for the plural, \u201corgans\u201d or\r\n\u201corgons,\u201d corresponding to the plural verb \u201cgon\u201d in the next\r\nline.\r\n\r\n4. Horloge: French, \u201cclock.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. Embattell\u2019d: indented on the upper edge like the battlements\r\nof a castle.\r\n\r\n6. My lefe is fare in land: This seems to have been the refrain of\r\nsome old song, and its precise meaning is uncertain. It\r\ncorresponds in cadence with the morning salutation of the cock;\r\nand may be taken as a greeting to the sun, which is beloved of\r\nChanticleer, and has just come upon the earth \u2014 or in the sense\r\nof a more local boast, as vaunting the fairness of his favourite\r\nhen above all others in the country round.\r\n\r\nTranscriber\u2019s note: Later commentators explain \u201cfare in land\u201d as\r\n\u201cgone abroad\u201d and  have identified the song:\r\n\r\nMy lefe is fare in lond\r\nAlas! Why is she so?\r\nAnd I am so sore bound\r\nI may not come her to.\r\nShe hath my heart in hold\r\nWhere ever she ride or go\r\nWith true love a thousand-fold.\r\n\r\n(Printed in The Athenaeum, 1896, Vol II, p. 566).\r\n\r\n7. \u201cAvoi!\u201d is the word here rendered \u201caway!\u201d It was frequently\r\nused in the French fabliaux, and the Italians employ the word\r\n\u201cvia!\u201d in the same sense.\r\n\r\n8. \u201cNe do no force of dreams:\u201d \u201cSomnia ne cares;\u201d \u2014  Cato\r\n\u201cDe Moribus,\u201d 1 ii, dist. 32\r\n\r\n9. Centaury: the herb so called because by its virtue the centaur\r\nChiron was healed when the poisoned arrow of Hercules had\r\naccidentally wounded his foot.\r\n\r\n10. Fumetere: the herb \u201cfumitory.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Catapuce:  spurge; a plant of purgative qualities. To its\r\nname in the text correspond the Italian \u201ccatapuzza,\u201d and French\r\n\u201ccatapuce\u201d \u2014 words the origin of which is connected with the\r\neffects of the plant.\r\n\r\n12. Gaitre-berries: dog-wood berries.\r\n\r\n13. One of the greatest authors that men read: Cicero, who in\r\nhis book \u201cDe Divinatione\u201d tells this and the following story,\r\nthough in contrary order and with many differences.\r\n\r\n14. Haled or hylled; from Anglo-Saxon \u201chelan\u201d hid, concealed\r\n\r\n15.  Kenelm succeeded his father as king of the Saxon realm of\r\nMercia in 811, at the age of seven years; but he was slain by his\r\nambitious aunt Quendrada. The place of his burial was\r\nmiraculously discovered, and he was subsequently elevated to\r\nthe rank of a saint and martyr. His life is in the English \u201cGolden\r\nLegend.\u201d\r\n\r\n16. Mercenrike: the kingdom of Mercia; Anglo-Saxon,\r\nMyrcnarice. Compare the second member of the compound in\r\nthe German, \u201cFrankreich,\u201d France; \u201cOesterreich,\u201d Austria.\r\n\r\n17. Cicero (\u201cDe Republica,\u201d lib. vi.) wrote the Dream of\r\nScipio, in which the Younger relates the appearance of the\r\nElder Africanus, and the counsels and exhortations which the\r\nshade addressed to the sleeper. Macrobius wrote an elaborate\r\n\u201cCommentary on the Dream of Scipio,\u201d \u2014 a philosophical\r\ntreatise much studied and relished during the Middle Ages.\r\n\r\n18. See the Monk\u2019s Tale for this story.\r\n\r\n19. Andromache\u2019s dream will not be found in Homer; It is\r\nrelated in the book of the fictitious Dares Phrygius, the most\r\npopular authority during the Middle Ages for the history of the\r\nTrojan War.\r\n\r\n20. In principio: In the beginning; the first words of Genesis and\r\nof the Gospel of John.\r\n\r\n21. Mulier est hominis confusio:  This line is taken from the\r\nsame fabulous conference between the Emperor Adrian and the\r\nphilosopher Secundus, whence Chaucer derived some of the\r\narguments in praise of poverty employed in the Wife of Bath\u2019s\r\nTale proper. See note 14 to the Wife of Bath\u2019s tale.  The\r\npassage transferred to the text is the commencement of a\r\ndescription of woman. \u201cQuid est mulier? hominis confusio,\u201d &c.\r\n(\u201cWhat is Woman? A union with man\u201d, &c.)\r\n\r\n22. Col-fox: a blackish fox, so called because of its likeness to\r\ncoal, according to Skinner; though more probably the prefix has\r\na reproachful meaning, and is in some way connected with the\r\nword \u201ccold\u201d as, some forty lines below, it is applied to the\r\nprejudicial counsel of women, and as frequently it is used to\r\ndescribe \u201csighs\u201d and other tokens of grief, and \u201ccares\u201d or\r\n\u201canxieties.\u201d\r\n\r\n23. Undern:  In this case, the meaning of \u201cevening\u201d or\r\n\u201cafternoon\u201d can hardly be applied to the word, which must be\r\ntaken to signify some early hour of the forenoon. See also note\r\n4 to the Wife of Bath\u2019s tale and note 5 to the Clerk\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n24. Ganilion: a traitor.  See note 9 to the Shipman\u2019s Tale and\r\nnote 28 to the Monk\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n25. Greek Sinon: The inventor of the Trojan Horse. See note 14\r\nto the Squire\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n26. Boult it from the bren: Examine the matter thoroughly; a\r\nmetaphor taken from the sifting of meal, to divide the fine flour\r\nfrom the bran.\r\n\r\n27. Thomas Bradwardine, Archbishop of Canterbury in the\r\nthirteenth century, who wrote a book, \u201cDe Causa Dei,\u201d in\r\ncontroversy with Pelagius; and also numerous other treatises,\r\namong them some  on predestination.\r\n\r\n28. In a popular mediaveal Latin treatise by one Theobaldus,\r\nentitled \u201cPhysiologus de Naturis XII. Animalium\u201d (\u201cA\r\ndescription of the nature of twelve animals\u201d),  sirens or\r\nmermaids are described as skilled in song, and drawing unwary\r\nmariners to destruction by the sweetness of their voices.\r\n\r\n29. \u201cNigellus Wireker,\u201d says Urry\u2019s Glossary, \u201ca monk and\r\nprecentor of Canterbury, wrote a Latin poem intituled\r\n\u2018Speculum Speculorum,\u2019 (\u2018The mirror of mirrors\u2019) dedicated to\r\nWilliam Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, and Lord Chancellor;\r\nwherein, under the fable of an Ass (which he calls \u2018Burnellus\u2019)\r\nthat desired a longer tail, is represented the folly of such as are\r\nnot content with their own condition. There is introduced a tale\r\nof a cock, who having his leg broke by a priest\u2019s son (called\r\nGundulfus) watched an opportunity to be revenged; which at\r\nlast presented itself on this occasion: A day was appointed for\r\nGundulfus\u2019s being admitted into holy orders at a place remote\r\nfrom his father\u2019s habitation; he therefore orders the servants to\r\ncall him at first cock-crowing, which the cock overhearing did\r\nnot crow at all that morning. So Gundulfus overslept himself,\r\nand was thereby disappointed of his ordination, the office being\r\nquite finished before he came to the place.\u201d Wireker\u2019s satire was\r\namong the most celebrated and popular Latin poems of the\r\nMiddle Ages. The Ass was probably as Tyrwhitt suggests,\r\ncalled \u201cBurnel\u201d or \u201cBrunel,\u201d from his brown colour; as, a little\r\nbelow, a reddish fox is called \u201cRussel.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. Flattour: flatterer; French, \u201cflatteur.\u201d\r\n\r\n31. Losengeour: deceiver, cozener; the word had analogues in\r\nthe French \u201closengier,\u201d and the Spanish \u201clisongero.\u201d It is\r\nprobably connected with \u201cleasing,\u201d falsehood; which has been\r\nderived from Anglo-Saxon \u201chlisan,\u201d to celebrate \u2014 as if it meant\r\nthe spreading of a false renown\r\n\r\n32. Dan Russel: Master Russet; a name given to the fox, from\r\nhis reddish colour.\r\n\r\n33. Geoffrey de Vinsauf was the author of a well-known\r\nmediaeval treatise on composition in various poetical styles of\r\nwhich he gave examples. Chaucer\u2019s irony is therefore directed\r\nagainst some grandiose and affected lines on the death of\r\nRichard I., intended to illustrate the pathetic style, in which\r\nFriday is addressed as \u201cO Veneris lachrymosa dies\u201d (\u201cO tearful\r\nday of Venus\u201d).\r\n\r\n34. \u201cPriamum altaria ad ipsa trementem\r\nTraxit, et in multo lapsantem sanguine nati\r\nImplicuitque comam laeva, dextraque coruscum\r\nExtulit, ac lateri capulo tenus abdidit ensem.\r\nHaec finis Priami fatorum.\u201d\r\n(\u201cHe dragged Priam trembling to his own altar, slipping on the\r\nblood of his child; He took his hair in his left hand, and with the\r\nright drew the flashing sword, and hid it to the hilt [in his body].\r\nThus an end was made of Priam\u201d)\r\n\u2014 Virgil, Aeneid. ii. 550.\r\n\r\n35. Jack Straw: The leader of a Kentish rising, in the reign of\r\nRichard II, in 1381, by which the Flemish merchants in London\r\nwere great sufferers.\r\n\r\n36. Beams: trumpets; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cbema.\u201d\r\n\r\n37. \u201cAll scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is\r\nprofitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for\r\ninstruction in righteousness: that the man of God may be\r\nperfect, throughly furnished unto all good works.\u201d \u2014 2 Tim. iii.\r\n16.\r\n\r\nTHE EPILOGUE <1>\r\n\r\n\u201cSir Nunne\u2019s Priest,\u201d our hoste said anon,\r\n\u201cY-blessed be thy breech, and every stone;\r\nThis was a merry tale of Chanticleer.\r\nBut by my truth, if thou wert seculere,*                       *a layman\r\nThou wouldest be a treadefowl* aright;                             *cock\r\nFor if thou have courage as thou hast might,\r\nThee were need of hennes, as I ween,\r\nYea more than seven times seventeen.\r\nSee, whate brawnes* hath this gentle priest,            *muscles, sinews\r\nSo great a neck, and such a large breast\r\nHe looketh as a sperhawk with his eyen\r\nHim needeth not his colour for to dyen\r\nWith Brazil, nor with grain of Portugale.\r\nBut, Sir, faire fall you for your tale\u2019.\u201d\r\nAnd, after that, he with full merry cheer\r\nSaid to another, as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Epilogue to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1.  The sixteen lines appended to the Tale of the Nun\u2019s Priest\r\nseem, as Tyrwhitt observes, to commence the prologue to the\r\nsucceeding Tale \u2014 but the difficulty is to determine which that\r\nTale should be. In earlier editions, the lines formed the opening\r\nof the prologue to the Manciple\u2019s Tale; but most of the\r\nmanuscripts acknowledge themselves defective in this part, and\r\ngive the Nun\u2019s Tale after that of the Nun\u2019s Priest. In the Harleian\r\nmanuscript, followed by Mr Wright, the second Nun\u2019s Tale, and\r\nthe Canon\u2019s Yeoman\u2019s Tale, are placed after the Franklin\u2019s tale;\r\nand the sixteen lines above are not found \u2014 the Manciple\u2019s\r\nprologue coming immediately after the \u201cAmen\u201d of the Nun\u2019s\r\nPriest. In two manuscripts, the last line of the sixteen runs thus:\r\n\u201cSaid unto the Nun as ye shall hear;\u201d and six lines more\r\nevidently forged, are given to introduce the Nun\u2019s Tale.  All this\r\nconfusion and doubt only strengthen the certainty, and deepen\r\nthe regret, that \u201cThe Canterbury Tales\u201d were left at Chaucer\u2019s,\r\ndeath not merely very imperfect as a whole, but destitute of\r\nmany finishing touches that would have made them complete so\r\nfar as the conception had actually been carried into\r\nperformance.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE SECOND NUN\u2019S TALE <1>\r\n\r\n\r\nThe minister and norice* unto vices,                              *nurse\r\nWhich that men call in English idleness,\r\nThe porter at the gate is of delices;*                         *delights\r\nT\u2019eschew, and by her contrar\u2019 her oppress, \u2014\r\nThat is to say, by lawful business,* \u2014            *occupation, activity\r\nWell oughte we to *do our all intent*                  *apply ourselves*\r\nLest that the fiend through idleness us hent.*                    *seize\r\n\r\nFor he, that with his thousand cordes sly\r\nContinually us waiteth to beclap,*                       *entangle, bind\r\nWhen he may man in idleness espy,\r\nHe can so lightly catch him in his trap,\r\nTill that a man be hent* right by the lappe,**              *seize **hem\r\nHe is not ware the fiend hath him in hand;\r\nWell ought we work, and idleness withstand.\r\n\r\nAnd though men dreaded never for to die,\r\nYet see men well by reason, doubteless,\r\nThat idleness is root of sluggardy,\r\nOf which there cometh never good increase;\r\nAnd see that sloth them holdeth in a leas,*                   *leash <2>\r\nOnly to sleep, and for to eat and drink,\r\nAnd to devouren all that others swink.*                          *labour\r\n\r\nAnd, for to put us from such idleness,\r\nThat cause is of so great confusion,\r\nI have here done my faithful business,\r\nAfter the Legend, in translation\r\nRight of thy glorious life and passion, \u2014\r\nThou with thy garland wrought of rose and lily,\r\nThee mean I, maid and martyr, Saint Cecilie.\r\n\r\nAnd thou, thou art the flow\u2019r of virgins all,\r\nOf whom that Bernard list so well to write, <3>\r\nTo thee at my beginning first I call;\r\nThou comfort of us wretches, do me indite\r\nThy maiden\u2019s death, that won through her merite\r\nTh\u2019 eternal life, and o\u2019er the fiend victory,\r\nAs man may after readen in her story.\r\n\r\nThou maid and mother, daughter of thy Son,\r\nThou well of mercy, sinful soules\u2019 cure,\r\nIn whom that God of bounte chose to won;*                         *dwell\r\nThou humble and high o\u2019er every creature,\r\nThou nobilest, *so far forth our nature,*  *as far as our nature admits*\r\nThat no disdain the Maker had of kind,*                          *nature\r\nHis Son in blood and flesh to clothe and wind.*                    *wrap\r\n\r\nWithin the cloister of thy blissful sides\r\nTook manne\u2019s shape th\u2019 eternal love and peace,\r\nThat of *the trine compass* Lord and guide is              *the trinity*\r\nWhom earth, and sea, and heav\u2019n, *out of release,*          *unceasingly\r\n*Aye hery;* and thou, Virgin wemmeless,*    *forever praise* *immaculate\r\nBare of thy body, and dweltest maiden pure,\r\nThe Creator of every creature.\r\n\r\nAssembled is in thee magnificence <4>\r\nWith mercy, goodness, and with such pity,\r\nThat thou, that art the sun of excellence,\r\nNot only helpest them that pray to thee,\r\nBut oftentime, of thy benignity,\r\nFull freely, ere that men thine help beseech,\r\nThou go\u2019st before, and art their lives\u2019 leech.*        *healer, saviour.\r\n\r\nNow help, thou meek and blissful faire maid,\r\nMe, flemed* wretch, in this desert of gall;           *banished, outcast\r\nThink on the woman Cananee that said\r\nThat whelpes eat some of the crumbes all\r\nThat from their Lorde\u2019s table be y-fall;<5>\r\nAnd though that I, unworthy son of Eve,<6>\r\nBe sinful, yet accepte my believe.*                               *faith\r\n\r\nAnd, for that faith is dead withoute werkes,\r\nFor to worke give me wit and space,\r\nThat I be *quit from thennes that most derk is;*    *freed from the most\r\nO thou, that art so fair and full of grace,           dark place (Hell)*\r\nBe thou mine advocate in that high place,\r\nWhere as withouten end is sung Osanne,\r\nThou Christe\u2019s mother, daughter dear of Anne.\r\n\r\nAnd of thy light my soul in prison light,\r\nThat troubled is by the contagion\r\nOf my body, and also by the weight\r\nOf earthly lust and false affection;\r\nO hav\u2019n of refuge, O salvation\r\nOf them that be in sorrow and distress,\r\nNow help, for to my work I will me dress.\r\n\r\nYet pray I you, that reade what I write, <6>\r\nForgive me that I do no diligence\r\nThis ilke* story subtilly t\u2019 indite.                               *same\r\nFor both have I the wordes and sentence\r\nOf him that at the sainte\u2019s reverence\r\nThe story wrote, and follow her legend;\r\nAnd pray you that you will my work amend.\r\n\r\nFirst will I you the name of Saint Cecilie\r\nExpound, as men may in her story see.\r\nIt is to say in English, Heaven\u2019s lily,<7>\r\nFor pure chasteness of virginity;\r\nOr, for she whiteness had of honesty,*                           *purity\r\nAnd green of conscience, and of good fame\r\nThe sweete savour, Lilie was her name.\r\n\r\nOr Cecilie is to say, the way of blind;<7>\r\nFor she example was by good teaching;\r\nOr else Cecilie, as I written find,\r\nIs joined by a manner conjoining\r\nOf heaven and Lia, <7> and herein figuring\r\nThe heaven is set for thought of holiness,\r\nAnd Lia for her lasting business.\r\n\r\nCecilie may eke be said in this mannere,\r\nWanting of blindness, for her greate light\r\nOf sapience, and for her thewes* clear.                       *qualities\r\nOr elles, lo, this maiden\u2019s name bright\r\nOf heaven and Leos <7> comes, for which by right\r\nMen might her well the heaven of people call,\r\nExample of good and wise workes all;\r\n\r\nFor Leos people in English is to say;\r\nAnd right as men may in the heaven see\r\nThe sun and moon, and starres every way,\r\nRight so men ghostly,* in this maiden free,                 *spiritually\r\nSawen of faith the magnanimity,\r\nAnd eke the clearness whole of sapience,\r\nAnd sundry workes bright of excellence.\r\n\r\nAnd right so as these philosophers write,\r\nThat heav\u2019n is swift and round, and eke burning,\r\nRight so was faire Cecilie the white\r\nFull swift and busy in every good working,\r\nAnd round and whole in good persevering, <8>\r\nAnd burning ever in charity full bright;\r\nNow have I you declared *what she hight.*         *why she had her name*\r\n\r\nThis maiden bright Cecile, as her life saith,\r\nWas come of Romans, and of noble kind,\r\nAnd from her cradle foster\u2019d in the faith\r\nOf Christ, and bare his Gospel in her mind:\r\nShe never ceased, as I written find,\r\nOf her prayere, and God to love and dread,\r\nBeseeching him to keep her maidenhead.\r\n\r\nAnd when this maiden should unto a man\r\nY-wedded be, that was full young of age,\r\nWhich that y-called was Valerian,\r\nAnd come was the day of marriage,\r\nShe, full devout and humble in her corage,*                       *heart\r\nUnder her robe of gold, that sat full fair,\r\nHad next her flesh y-clad her in an hair.*        *garment of hair-cloth\r\n\r\nAnd while the organs made melody,\r\nTo God alone thus in her heart sang she;\r\n\u201cO Lord, my soul and eke my body gie*                             *guide\r\nUnwemmed,* lest that I confounded be.\u201d                      *unblemished\r\nAnd, for his love that died upon the tree,\r\nEvery second or third day she fast\u2019,\r\nAye bidding* in her orisons full fast.                          *praying\r\n\r\nThe night came, and to bedde must she gon\r\nWith her husband, as it is the mannere;\r\nAnd privily she said to him anon;\r\n\u201cO sweet and well-beloved spouse dear,\r\nThere is a counsel,* an\u2019** ye will it hear,                 *secret **if\r\nWhich that right fain I would unto you say,\r\nSo that ye swear ye will it not bewray.\u201d*                        *betray\r\n\r\nValerian gan fast unto her swear\r\nThat for no case nor thing that mighte be,\r\nHe never should to none bewrayen her;\r\nAnd then at erst* thus to him saide she;             *for the first time\r\n\u201cI have an angel which that loveth me,\r\nThat with great love, whether I wake or sleep,\r\nIs ready aye my body for to keep;\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd if that he may feelen, *out of dread,*              *without doubt*\r\nThat ye me touch or love in villainy,\r\nHe right anon will slay you with the deed,\r\nAnd in your youthe thus ye shoulde die.\r\nAnd if that ye in cleane love me gie,\u201d*                           *guide\r\nHe will you love as me, for your cleanness,\r\nAnd shew to you his joy and his brightness.\u201d\r\n\r\nValerian, corrected as God wo\u2019ld,\r\nAnswer\u2019d again, \u201cIf I shall truste thee,\r\nLet me that angel see, and him behold;\r\nAnd if that it a very angel be,\r\nThen will I do as thou hast prayed me;\r\nAnd if thou love another man, forsooth\r\nRight with this sword then will I slay you both.\u201d\r\n\r\nCecile answer\u2019d anon right in this wise;\r\n\u201cIf that you list, the angel shall ye see,\r\nSo that ye trow* Of Christ, and you baptise;                       *know\r\nGo forth to Via Appia,\u201d quoth she,\r\nThat from this towne stands but miles three,\r\nAnd to the poore folkes that there dwell\r\nSay them right thus, as that I shall you tell,\r\n\r\n\u201cTell them, that I, Cecile, you to them sent\r\nTo shewe you the good Urban the old,\r\nFor secret needes,* and for good intent;                       *business\r\nAnd when that ye Saint Urban have behold,\r\nTell him the wordes which I to you told\r\nAnd when that he hath purged you from sin,\r\nThen shall ye see that angel ere ye twin*                        *depart\r\n\r\nValerian is to the place gone;\r\nAnd, right as he was taught by her learning\r\nHe found this holy old Urban anon\r\nAmong the saintes\u2019 burials louting;*                *lying concealed <9>\r\nAnd he anon, withoute tarrying,\r\nDid his message, and when that he it told,\r\nUrban for joy his handes gan uphold.\r\n\r\nThe teares from his eyen let he fall;\r\n\u201cAlmighty Lord, O Jesus Christ,\u201d\r\nQuoth he, \u201cSower of chaste counsel, herd* of us all;           *shepherd\r\nThe fruit of thilke* seed of chastity                              *that\r\nThat thou hast sown in Cecile, take to thee\r\nLo, like a busy bee, withoute guile,\r\nThee serveth aye thine owen thrall* Cicile,                     *servant\r\n\r\n\u201cFor thilke spouse, that she took *but now,*                    *lately*\r\nFull like a fierce lion, she sendeth here,\r\nAs meek as e\u2019er was any lamb to owe.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word anon there gan appear\r\nAn old man, clad in white clothes clear,\r\nThat had a book with letters of gold in hand,\r\nAnd gan before Valerian to stand.\r\n\r\nValerian, as dead, fell down for dread,\r\nWhen he him saw; and he up hent* him tho,**                *took **there\r\nAnd on his book right thus he gan to read;\r\n\u201cOne Lord, one faith, one God withoute mo\u2019,\r\nOne Christendom, one Father of all also,\r\nAboven all, and over all everywhere.\u201d\r\nThese wordes all with gold y-written were.\r\n\r\nWhen this was read, then said this olde man,\r\n\u201cBeliev\u2019st thou this or no? say yea or nay.\u201d\r\n\u201cI believe all this,\u201d quoth Valerian,\r\n\u201cFor soother* thing than this, I dare well say,                   *truer\r\nUnder the Heaven no wight thinke may.\u201d\r\nThen vanish\u2019d the old man, he wist not where\r\nAnd Pope Urban him christened right there.\r\n\r\nValerian went home, and found Cecilie\r\nWithin his chamber with an angel stand;\r\nThis angel had of roses and of lily\r\nCorones* two, the which he bare in hand,                         *crowns\r\nAnd first to Cecile, as I understand,\r\nHe gave the one, and after gan he take\r\nThe other to Valerian her make.*                          *mate, husband\r\n\r\n\u201cWith body clean, and with unwemmed* thought,      *unspotted, blameless\r\nKeep aye well these corones two,\u201d quoth he;\r\n\u201cFrom Paradise to you I have them brought,\r\nNor ever more shall they rotten be,\r\nNor lose their sweet savour, truste me,\r\nNor ever wight shall see them with his eye,\r\nBut he be chaste, and hate villainy.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd thou, Valerian, for thou so soon\r\nAssented hast to good counsel, also\r\nSay what thee list,* and thou shalt have thy boon.\u201d**     *wish **desire\r\n\u201cI have a brother,\u201d quoth Valerian tho,*                           *then\r\n\u201cThat in this world I love no man so;\r\nI pray you that my brother may have grace\r\nTo know the truth, as I do in this place.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe angel said, \u201cGod liketh thy request,\r\nAnd bothe, with the palm of martyrdom,\r\nYe shalle come unto this blissful rest.\u201d\r\nAnd, with that word, Tiburce his brother came.\r\nAnd when that he the savour undernome*                        *perceived\r\nWhich that the roses and the lilies cast,\r\nWithin his heart he gan to wonder fast;\r\n\r\nAnd said; \u201cI wonder, this time of the year,\r\nWhence that sweete savour cometh so\r\nOf rose and lilies, that I smelle here;\r\nFor though I had them in mine handes two,\r\nThe savour might in me no deeper go;\r\nThe sweete smell, that in my heart I find,\r\nHath changed me all in another kind.\u201d\r\n\r\nValerian said, \u201cTwo crownes here have we,\r\nSnow-white and rose-red, that shine clear,\r\nWhich that thine eyen have no might to see;\r\nAnd, as thou smellest them through my prayere,\r\nSo shalt thou see them, leve* brother dear,                     *beloved\r\nIf it so be thou wilt withoute sloth\r\nBelieve aright, and know the very troth. \u201c\r\n\r\nTiburce answered, \u201cSay\u2019st thou this to me\r\nIn soothness, or in dreame hear I this?\u201d\r\n\u201cIn dreames,\u201d quoth Valorian, \u201chave we be\r\nUnto this time, brother mine, y-wis\r\nBut now *at erst* in truth our dwelling is.\u201d        *for the first time*\r\nHow know\u2019st thou this,\u201d quoth Tiburce; \u201cin what wise?\u201d\r\nQuoth Valerian, \u201cThat shall I thee devise*                     *describe\r\n\r\n\u201cThe angel of God hath me the truth y-taught,\r\nWhich thou shalt see, if that thou wilt reny*                  *renounce\r\nThe idols, and be clean, and elles nought.\u201d\r\n[And of the miracle of these crownes tway\r\nSaint Ambrose in his preface list to say;\r\nSolemnely this noble doctor dear\r\nCommendeth it, and saith in this mannere\r\n\r\n\u201cThe palm of martyrdom for to receive,\r\nSaint Cecilie, full filled of God\u2019s gift,\r\nThe world and eke her chamber gan to weive;*                    *forsake\r\nWitness Tiburce\u2019s and Cecilie\u2019s shrift,*                     *confession\r\nTo which God of his bounty woulde shift\r\nCorones two, of flowers well smelling,\r\nAnd made his angel them the crownes bring.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe maid hath brought these men to bliss above;\r\nThe world hath wist what it is worth, certain,\r\nDevotion of chastity to love.\u201d] <10>\r\nThen showed him Cecilie all open and plain,\r\nThat idols all are but a thing in vain,\r\nFor they be dumb, and thereto* they be deave;**        *therefore **deaf\r\nAnd charged him his idols for to leave.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhoso that troweth* not this, a beast he is,\u201d                *believeth\r\nQuoth this Tiburce, \u201cif that I shall not lie.\u201d\r\nAnd she gan kiss his breast when she heard this,\r\nAnd was full glad he could the truth espy:\r\n\u201cThis day I take thee for mine ally.\u201d*                    *chosen friend\r\nSaide this blissful faire maiden dear;\r\nAnd after that she said as ye may hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cLo, right so as the love of Christ,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cMade me thy brother\u2019s wife, right in that wise\r\nAnon for mine ally here take I thee,\r\nSince that thou wilt thine idoles despise.\r\nGo with thy brother now and thee baptise,\r\nAnd make thee clean, so that thou may\u2019st behold\r\nThe angel\u2019s face, of which thy brother told.\u201d\r\n\r\nTiburce answer\u2019d, and saide, \u201cBrother dear,\r\nFirst tell me whither I shall, and to what man?\u201d\r\n\u201cTo whom?\u201d quoth he, \u201ccome forth with goode cheer,\r\nI will thee lead unto the Pope Urban.\u201d\r\n\u201cTo Urban? brother mine Valerian,\u201d\r\nQuoth then Tiburce; \u201cwilt thou me thither lead?\r\nMe thinketh that it were a wondrous deed.\r\n\r\n\u201cMeanest thou not that Urban,\u201d quoth he tho,*                      *then\r\n\u201cThat is so often damned to be dead,\r\nAnd wons* in halkes** always to and fro,               *dwells **corners\r\nAnd dare not ones putte forth his head?\r\nMen should him brennen* in a fire so red,                          *burn\r\nIf he were found, or if men might him spy:\r\nAnd us also, to bear him company.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd while we seeke that Divinity\r\nThat is y-hid in heaven privily,\r\nAlgate* burnt in this world should we be.\u201d                 *nevertheless\r\nTo whom Cecilie answer\u2019d boldely;\r\n\u201cMen mighte dreade well and skilfully*                       *reasonably\r\nThis life to lose, mine owen deare brother,\r\nIf this were living only, and none other.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut there is better life in other place,\r\nThat never shall be loste, dread thee nought;\r\nWhich Godde\u2019s Son us tolde through his grace\r\nThat Father\u2019s Son which alle thinges wrought;\r\nAnd all that wrought is with a skilful* thought,             *reasonable\r\nThe Ghost,* that from the Father gan proceed,               *Holy Spirit\r\nHath souled* them, withouten any drede.**      *endowed them with a soul\r\n                                                                 **doubt\r\nBy word and by miracle, high God\u2019s Son,\r\nWhen he was in this world, declared here.\r\nThat there is other life where men may won.\u201d*                     *dwell\r\nTo whom answer\u2019d Tiburce, \u201cO sister dear,\r\nSaidest thou not right now in this mannere,\r\nThere was but one God, Lord in soothfastness,*                    *truth\r\nAnd now of three how may\u2019st thou bear witness?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThat shall I tell,\u201d quoth she, \u201cere that I go.\r\nRight as a man hath sapiences* three,                  *mental faculties\r\nMemory, engine,* and intellect also,                           *wit <11>\r\nSo in one being of divinity\r\nThree persones there maye right well be.\u201d\r\nThen gan she him full busily to preach\r\nOf Christe\u2019s coming, and his paines teach,\r\n\r\nAnd many pointes of his passion;\r\nHow Godde\u2019s Son in this world was withhold*                    *employed\r\nTo do mankinde plein* remission,                                   *full\r\nThat was y-bound in sin and cares cold.*                  *wretched <12>\r\nAll this thing she unto Tiburce told,\r\nAnd after that Tiburce, in good intent,\r\nWith Valerian to Pope Urban he went.\r\n\r\nThat thanked God, and with glad heart and light\r\nHe christen\u2019d him, and made him in that place\r\nPerfect in his learning, and Godde\u2019s knight.\r\nAnd after this Tiburce got such grace,\r\nThat every day he saw in time and space\r\nTh\u2019 angel of God, and every manner boon*                *request, favour\r\nThat be God asked, it was sped* full anon.          *granted, successful\r\n\r\nIt were full hard by order for to sayn\r\nHow many wonders Jesus for them wrought,\r\nBut at the last, to telle short and plain,\r\nThe sergeants of the town of Rome them sought,\r\nAnd them before Almach the Prefect brought,\r\nWhich them apposed,* and knew all their intent,              *questioned\r\nAnd to th\u2019image of Jupiter them sent.\r\n\r\nAnd said, \u201cWhoso will not do sacrifice,\r\nSwap* off his head, this is my sentence here.\u201d                   *strike\r\nAnon these martyrs, *that I you devise,*            *of whom I tell you*\r\nOne Maximus, that was an officere\r\nOf the prefect\u2019s, and his corniculere <13>\r\nThem hent,* and when he forth the saintes lad,**           *seized **led\r\nHimself he wept for pity that he had.\r\n\r\nWhen Maximus had heard the saintes lore,*            *doctrine, teaching\r\nHe got him of the tormentores* leave,                         *torturers\r\nAnd led them to his house withoute more;\r\nAnd with their preaching, ere that it were eve,\r\nThey gonnen* from the tormentors to reave,**    *began **wrest, root out\r\nAnd from Maxim\u2019, and from his folk each one,\r\nThe false faith, to trow* in God alone.                         *believe\r\n\r\nCecilia came, when it was waxen night,\r\nWith priestes, that them christen\u2019d *all in fere;*        *in a company*\r\nAnd afterward, when day was waxen light,\r\nCecile them said with a full steadfast cheer,*                     *mien\r\n\u201cNow, Christe\u2019s owen knightes lefe* and dear,                   *beloved\r\nCast all away the workes of darkness,\r\nAnd arme you in armour of brightness.\r\n\r\nYe have forsooth y-done a great battaile,\r\nYour course is done, your faith have ye conserved; <14>\r\nO to the crown of life that may not fail;\r\nThe rightful Judge, which that ye have served\r\nShall give it you, as ye have it deserved.\u201d\r\nAnd when this thing was said, as I devise,*                       relate\r\nMen led them forth to do the sacrifice.\r\n\r\nBut when they were unto the place brought\r\nTo telle shortly the conclusion,\r\nThey would incense nor sacrifice right nought\r\nBut on their knees they sette them adown,\r\nWith humble heart and sad* devotion,                          *steadfast\r\nAnd loste both their heades in the place;\r\nTheir soules wente to the King of grace.\r\n\r\nThis Maximus, that saw this thing betide,\r\nWith piteous teares told it anon right,\r\nThat he their soules saw to heaven glide\r\nWith angels, full of clearness and of light\r\nAndt with his word converted many a wight.\r\nFor which Almachius *did him to-beat*                    *see note <15>*\r\nWith whip of lead, till he his life gan lete.*                     *quit\r\n\r\nCecile him took, and buried him anon\r\nBy Tiburce and Valerian softely,\r\nWithin their burying-place, under the stone.\r\nAnd after this Almachius hastily\r\nBade his ministers fetchen openly\r\nCecile, so that she might in his presence\r\nDo sacrifice, and Jupiter incense.*                     *burn incense to\r\n\r\nBut they, converted at her wise lore,*                         *teaching\r\nWepte full sore, and gave full credence\r\nUnto her word, and cried more and more;\r\n\u201cChrist, Godde\u2019s Son, withoute difference,\r\nIs very God, this is all our sentence,*                         *opinion\r\nThat hath so good a servant him to serve\r\nThus with one voice we trowe,* though we sterve.**        *believe **die\r\n\r\nAlmachius, that heard of this doing,\r\nBade fetch Cecilie, that he might her see;\r\nAnd alderfirst,* lo, this was his asking;                  *first of all\r\n\u201cWhat manner woman arte thou?\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cI am a gentle woman born,\u201d quoth she.\r\n\u201cI aske thee,\u201d quoth he,\u201dthough it thee grieve,\r\nOf thy religion and of thy believe.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYe have begun your question foolishly,\u201d\r\nQuoth she, \u201cthat wouldest two answers conclude\r\nIn one demand? ye aske lewedly.\u201d*                            *ignorantly\r\nAlmach answer\u2019d to that similitude,\r\n\u201cOf whence comes thine answering so rude?\u201d\r\n\u201cOf whence?\u201d quoth she, when that she was freined,*               *asked\r\n\u201cOf conscience, and of good faith unfeigned.\u201d\r\n\r\nAlmachius saide; \u201cTakest thou no heed\r\nOf my power?\u201d and she him answer\u2019d this;\r\n\u201cYour might,\u201d quoth she, \u201cfull little is to dread;\r\nFor every mortal manne\u2019s power is\r\nBut like a bladder full of wind, y-wis;*                      *certainly\r\nFor with a needle\u2019s point, when it is blow\u2019,\r\nMay all the boast of it be laid full low.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cFull wrongfully begunnest thou,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cAnd yet in wrong is thy perseverance.\r\nKnow\u2019st thou not how our mighty princes free\r\nHave thus commanded and made ordinance,\r\nThat every Christian wight shall have penance,*              *punishment\r\nBut if that he his Christendom withsay,*                           *deny\r\nAnd go all quit, if he will it renay?\u201d*                        *renounce\r\n\r\n\u201cYour princes erren, as your nobley* doth,\u201d                    *nobility\r\nQuoth then Cecile, \u201cand with a *wood sentence*            *mad judgment*\r\nYe make us guilty, and it is not sooth:*                           *true\r\nFor ye that knowe well our innocence,\r\nForasmuch as we do aye reverence\r\nTo Christ, and for we bear a Christian name,\r\nYe put on us a crime and eke a blame.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut we that knowe thilke name so\r\nFor virtuous, we may it not withsay.\u201d\r\nAlmach answered, \u201cChoose one of these two,\r\nDo sacrifice, or Christendom renay,\r\nThat thou may\u2019st now escape by that way.\u201d\r\nAt which the holy blissful faire maid\r\nGan for to laugh, and to the judge said;\r\n\r\n\u201cO judge, *confused in thy nicety,*            *confounded in thy folly*\r\nWouldest thou that I reny innocence?\r\nTo make me a wicked wight,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cLo, he dissimuleth* here in audience;                       *dissembles\r\nHe stareth and woodeth* in his advertence.\u201d**   *grows furious **thought\r\nTo whom Almachius said, \u201cUnsely* wretch,                        *unhappy\r\nKnowest thou not how far my might may stretch?\r\n\r\n\u201cHave not our mighty princes to me given\r\nYea bothe power and eke authority\r\nTo make folk to dien or to liven?\r\nWhy speakest thou so proudly then to me?\u201d\r\n\u201cI speake not but steadfastly,\u201d quoth she,\r\nNot proudly, for I say, as for my side,\r\nWe hate deadly* thilke vice of pride.                          *mortally\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, if thou dreade not a sooth* to hear,                        *truth\r\nThen will I shew all openly by right,\r\nThat thou hast made a full great leasing* here.               *falsehood\r\nThou say\u2019st thy princes have thee given might\r\nBoth for to slay and for to quick* a wight, \u2014             *give life to\r\nThou that may\u2019st not but only life bereave;\r\nThou hast none other power nor no leave.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut thou may\u2019st say, thy princes have thee maked\r\nMinister of death; for if thou speak of mo\u2019,\r\nThou liest; for thy power is full naked.\u201d\r\n\u201cDo away thy boldness,\u201d said Almachius tho,*                       *then\r\n\u201cAnd sacrifice to our gods, ere thou go.\r\nI recke not what wrong that thou me proffer,\r\nFor I can suffer it as a philosopher.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut those wronges may I not endure,\r\nThat thou speak\u2019st of our goddes here,\u201d quoth he.\r\nCecile answer\u2019d, \u201cO nice* creature,                             *foolish\r\nThou saidest no word, since thou spake to me,\r\nThat I knew not therewith thy nicety,*                            *folly\r\nAnd that thou wert in *every manner wise*            *every sort of way*\r\nA lewed* officer, a vain justice.                              *ignorant\r\n\r\n\u201cThere lacketh nothing to thine outward eyen\r\nThat thou art blind; for thing that we see all\r\nThat it is stone, that men may well espyen,\r\nThat ilke* stone a god thou wilt it call.                *very, selfsame\r\nI rede* thee let thine hand upon it fall,                        *advise\r\nAnd taste* it well, and stone thou shalt it find;         *examine, test\r\nSince that thou see\u2019st not with thine eyen blind.\r\n\r\n\u201cIt is a shame that the people shall\r\nSo scorne thee, and laugh at thy folly;\r\nFor commonly men *wot it well over all,*            *know it everywhere*\r\nThat mighty God is in his heaven high;\r\nAnd these images, well may\u2019st thou espy,\r\nTo thee nor to themselves may not profite,\r\nFor in effect they be not worth a mite.\u201d\r\n\r\nThese wordes and such others saide she,\r\nAnd he wax\u2019d wroth, and bade men should her lead\r\nHome to her house; \u201cAnd in her house,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cBurn her right in a bath, with flames red.\u201d\r\nAnd as he bade, right so was done the deed;\r\nFor in a bath they gan her faste shetten,*                *shut, confine\r\nAnd night and day great fire they under betten.*       *kindled, applied\r\n\r\nThe longe night, and eke a day also,\r\nFor all the fire, and eke the bathe\u2019s heat,\r\nShe sat all cold, and felt of it no woe,\r\nIt made her not one droppe for to sweat;\r\nBut in that bath her life she must lete.*                         *leave\r\nFor he, Almachius, with full wick\u2019 intent,\r\nTo slay her in the bath his sonde* sent.                 *message, order\r\n\r\nThree strokes in the neck he smote her tho,*                      *there\r\nThe tormentor,* but for no manner chance                    *executioner\r\nHe might not smite her faire neck in two:\r\nAnd, for there was that time an ordinance\r\nThat no man should do man such penance,*              *severity, torture\r\nThe fourthe stroke to smite, soft or sore,\r\nThis tormentor he durste do no more;\r\n\r\nBut half dead, with her necke carven* there                      *gashed\r\nHe let her lie, and on his way is went.\r\nThe Christian folk, which that about her were,\r\nWith sheetes have the blood full fair y-hent;                  *taken up\r\nThree dayes lived she in this torment,\r\nAnd never ceased them the faith to teach,\r\nThat she had foster\u2019d them, she gan to preach.\r\n\r\nAnd them she gave her mebles* and her thing,                      *goods\r\nAnd to the Pope Urban betook* them tho;**              *commended **then\r\nAnd said, \u201cI aske this of heaven\u2019s king,\r\nTo have respite three dayes and no mo\u2019,\r\nTo recommend to you, ere that I go,\r\nThese soules, lo; and that *I might do wirch*         *cause to be made*\r\nHere of mine house perpetually a church.\u201d\r\n\r\nSaint Urban, with his deacons, privily\r\nThe body fetch\u2019d, and buried it by night\r\nAmong his other saintes honestly;\r\nHer house the church of Saint Cecilie hight;*                 *is called\r\nSaint Urban hallow\u2019d it, as he well might;\r\nIn which unto this day, in noble wise,\r\nMen do to Christ and to his saint service.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1.  This Tale was originally composed by Chaucer as a separate\r\nwork, and as such it is mentioned in the \u201cLegend of Good\r\nWomen\u201d under the title of \u201cThe Life of Saint Cecile\u201d.  Tyrwhitt\r\nquotes the line in which the author calls himself an \u201cunworthy\r\nson of Eve,\u201d and that in which he says, \u201cYet pray I you, that\r\nreade what I write\u201d, as internal evidence that the insertion of the\r\npoem in the Canterbury Tales was the result of an afterthought;\r\nwhile the whole tenor of the introduction confirms the belief\r\nthat Chaucer composed it as a writer or translator \u2014 not,\r\ndramatically, as a speaker. The story is almost literally\r\ntranslated from the Life of St Cecilia in the \u201cLegenda Aurea.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. Leas: leash, snare; the same as \u201clas,\u201d oftener used by\r\nChaucer.\r\n\r\n3. The nativity and assumption of the Virgin Mary formed the\r\nthemes of some of St Bernard\u2019s most eloquent sermons.\r\n\r\n4. Compare with this stanza the fourth stanza of the Prioress\u2019s\r\nTale, the substance of which is the same.\r\n\r\n5. \u201cBut he answered and said, it is not meet to take the\r\nchildren\u2019s bread, and cast it to dogs.  And she said, Truth, Lord:\r\nyet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master\u2019s\r\ntable.\u201d \u2014  Matthew xv. 26, 27.\r\n\r\n6.  See note 1.\r\n\r\n7. These are Latin puns: Heaven\u2019s lily - \u201cCoeli lilium\u201d; The way\r\nof blind - \u201cCaeci via\u201d;  Heaven and Lia - from \u201cCoeli\u201d, heaven,\r\nand \u201cLigo,\u201d to bind; Heaven and Leos - from Coeli and \u201cLaos,\u201d\r\n(Ionian Greek) or \u201cLeos\u201d (Attic Greek), the people. Such\r\npunning derivations of proper names were very much in favour\r\nin the Middle Ages. The explanations of St Cecilia\u2019s name are\r\nliterally taken from the prologue to the Latin legend.\r\n\r\n8. This passage suggests Horace\u2019s description of the wise man,\r\nwho, among other things, is \u201cin se ipse totus, teres, atque\r\nrotundus.\u201d (\u201ccomplete in himself, polished and rounded\u201d) \u2014\r\nSatires, 2, vii. 80.\r\n\r\n9. Louting: lingering, or lying concealed; the Latin original has\r\n\u201cInter sepulchra martyrum latiantem\u201d (\u201chiding among the tombs\r\nof martyrs\u201d)\r\n\r\n10.  The fourteen lines within brackets are supposed to have\r\nbeen originally an interpolation in the Latin legend, from which\r\nthey are literally translated. They awkwardly interrupt the flow\r\nof the narration.\r\n\r\n11. Engine: wit; the devising or constructive faculty; Latin,\r\n\u201cingenium.\u201d\r\n\r\n12. Cold: wretched, distressful; see note 22 to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n13. Corniculere:  The secretary or registrar who was charged\r\nwith publishing the acts, decrees and orders of the prefect.\r\n\r\n14. \u201cI have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I\r\nhave kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown\r\nof righteousness\u201d \u2014 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8.\r\n\r\n15. Did him to-beat:  Caused him to be cruelly or fatally beaten;\r\nthe force of the \u201cto\u201d is intensive.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE CANON\u2019S YEOMAN\u2019S TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nWHEN ended was the life of Saint Cecile,\r\nEre we had ridden fully five mile, <2>\r\nAt Boughton-under-Blee us gan o\u2019ertake\r\nA man, that clothed was in clothes black,\r\nAnd underneath he wore a white surplice.\r\nHis hackenay,* which was all pomely-gris,**           *nag **dapple-gray\r\nSo sweated, that it wonder was to see;\r\nIt seem\u2019d as he had pricked* miles three.                       *spurred\r\nThe horse eke that his yeoman rode upon\r\nSo sweated, that unnethes* might he gon.**                  *hardly **go\r\nAbout the peytrel <3> stood the foam full high;\r\nHe was of foam, as *flecked as a pie.*           *spotted like a magpie*\r\nA maile twyfold <4> on his crupper lay;\r\nIt seemed that he carried little array;\r\nAll light for summer rode this worthy man.\r\nAnd in my heart to wonder I began\r\nWhat that he was, till that I understood\r\nHow that his cloak was sewed to his hood;\r\nFor which, when I had long advised* me,                      *considered\r\nI deemed him some Canon for to be.\r\nHis hat hung at his back down by a lace,*                          *cord\r\nFor he had ridden more than trot or pace;\r\nHe hadde pricked like as he were wood.*                             *mad\r\nA clote-leaf* he had laid  under his hood,                * burdock-leaf\r\nFor sweat, and for to keep his head from heat.\r\nBut it was joye for to see him sweat;\r\nHis forehead dropped as a stillatory*                             *still\r\nWere full of plantain or of paritory.*                       *wallflower\r\nAnd when that he was come, he gan to cry,\r\n\u201cGod save,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthis jolly company.\r\nFast have I pricked,\u201d quoth he, \u201cfor your sake,\r\nBecause that I would you overtake,\r\nTo riden in this merry company.\u201d\r\nHis Yeoman was eke full of courtesy,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cSirs, now in the morning tide\r\nOut of your hostelry I saw you ride,\r\nAnd warned here my lord and sovereign,\r\nWhich that to ride with you is full fain,\r\nFor his disport; he loveth dalliance.\u201d\r\n\u201cFriend, for thy warning God give thee good chance,\u201d*           *fortune\r\nSaid oure Host; \u201ccertain it woulde seem\r\nThy lord were wise, and so I may well deem;\r\nHe is full jocund also, dare I lay;\r\nCan he aught tell a merry tale or tway,\r\nWith which he gladden may this company?\u201d\r\n\u201cWho, Sir? my lord? Yea, Sir, withoute lie,\r\nHe can* of mirth and eke of jollity                               *knows\r\n*Not but* enough; also, Sir, truste me,                  *not less than*\r\nAn* ye him knew all so well as do I,                                 *if\r\nYe would wonder how well and craftily\r\nHe coulde work, and that in sundry wise.\r\nHe hath take on him many a great emprise,*            *task, undertaking\r\nWhich were full hard for any that is here\r\nTo bring about, but* they of him it lear.**              *unless **learn\r\nAs homely as he rides amonges you,\r\nIf ye him knew, it would be for your prow:*                   *advantage\r\nYe woulde not forego his acquaintance\r\nFor muche good, I dare lay in balance\r\nAll that I have in my possession.\r\nHe is a man of high discretion.\r\nI warn you well, he is a passing* man.\u201d       *surpassing, extraordinary\r\nWell,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201cI pray thee tell me than,\r\nIs he a clerk,* or no? Tell what he is.\u201d                *scholar, priest\r\n\u201cNay, he is greater than a clerk, y-wis,\u201d*                    *certainly\r\nSaide this Yeoman; \u201cand, in wordes few,\r\nHost, of his craft somewhat I will you shew,\r\nI say, my lord can* such a subtlety                               *knows\r\n(But all his craft ye may not weet* of me,                        *learn\r\nAnd somewhat help I yet to his working),\r\nThat all the ground on which we be riding\r\nTill that we come to Canterbury town,\r\nHe could all cleane turnen up so down,\r\nAnd pave it all of silver and of gold.\u201d\r\nAnd when this Yeoman had this tale told\r\nUnto our Host, he said; \u201cBen\u2019dicite!\r\nThis thing is wonder marvellous to me,\r\nSince that thy lord is of so high prudence,\r\nBecause of which men should him reverence,\r\nThat of his worship* recketh he so lite;**              *honour **little\r\nHis *overest slop* it is not worth a mite                *upper garment*\r\nAs in effect to him, so may I go;\r\nIt is all baudy* and to-tore also.                             *slovenly\r\nWhy is thy lord so sluttish, I thee pray,\r\nAnd is of power better clothes to bey,*                             *buy\r\nIf that his deed accordeth with thy speech?\r\nTelle me that, and that I thee beseech.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhy?\u201d quoth this Yeoman, \u201cwhereto ask ye me?\r\nGod help me so, for he shall never the*                          *thrive\r\n(But I will not avowe* that I say,                                *admit\r\nAnd therefore keep it secret, I you pray);\r\nHe is too wise, in faith, as I believe.\r\nThing that is overdone, it will not preve*               *stand the test\r\nAright, as clerkes say; it is a vice;\r\nWherefore in that I hold him *lewd and nice.\u201d*    *ignorant and foolish*\r\nFor when a man hath over great a wit,\r\nFull oft him happens to misusen it;\r\nSo doth my lord, and that me grieveth sore.\r\nGod it amend; I can say now no more.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThereof *no force,* good Yeoman, \u201cquoth our Host;           *no matter*\r\n\u201cSince of the conning* of thy lord, thou know\u2019st,             *knowledge\r\nTell how he doth, I pray thee heartily,\r\nSince that be is so crafty and so sly.*                            *wise\r\nWhere dwelle ye, if it to telle be?\u201d\r\n\u201cIn the suburbes of a town,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cLurking in hernes* and in lanes blind,                         *corners\r\nWhere as these robbers and these thieves by kind*                *nature\r\nHolde their privy fearful residence,\r\nAs they that dare not show their presence,\r\nSo fare we, if I shall say the soothe.\u201d*                          *truth\r\n\u201cYet,\u201d quoth our Hoste, \u201clet me talke to thee;\r\nWhy art thou so discolour\u2019d of thy face?\u201d\r\n\u201cPeter!\u201d quoth he, \u201cGod give it harde grace,\r\nI am so us\u2019d the hote fire to blow,\r\nThat it hath changed my colour, I trow;\r\nI am not wont in no mirror to pry,\r\nBut swinke* sore, and learn to multiply. <5>                     *labour\r\nWe blunder* ever, and poren** in the fire,                  *toil **peer\r\nAnd, for all that, we fail of our desire\r\nFor ever we lack our conclusion\r\nTo muche folk we do illusion,\r\nAnd borrow gold, be it a pound or two,\r\nOr ten or twelve, or many summes mo\u2019,\r\nAnd make them weenen,* at the leaste way,                         *fancy\r\nThat of a pounde we can make tway.\r\nYet is it false; and aye we have good hope\r\nIt for to do, and after it we grope:*                    *search, strive\r\nBut that science is so far us beforn,\r\nThat we may not, although we had it sworn,\r\nIt overtake, it slides away so fast;\r\nIt will us make beggars at the last.\u201d\r\nWhile this Yeoman was thus in his talking,\r\nThis Canon drew him near, and heard all thing\r\nWhich this Yeoman spake, for suspicion\r\nOf menne\u2019s speech ever had this Canon:\r\nFor Cato saith, that he that guilty is, <6>\r\nDeemeth all things be spoken of him y-wis;*                      *surely\r\nBecause of that he gan so nigh to draw\r\nTo his Yeoman, that he heard all his saw;\r\nAnd thus he said unto his Yeoman tho*                              *then\r\n\u201cHold thou thy peace,and speak no wordes mo\u2019:\r\nFor if thou do, thou shalt *it dear abie.*           *pay dearly for it*\r\nThou slanderest me here in this company\r\nAnd eke discoverest that thou shouldest hide.\u201d\r\n\u201cYea,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201ctell on, whatso betide;\r\nOf all his threatening reck not a mite.\u201d\r\n\u201cIn faith,\u201d quoth he, \u201cno more do I but lite.\u201d*                  *little\r\nAnd when this Canon saw it would not be\r\nBut his Yeoman would tell his privity,*                         *secrets\r\nHe fled away for very sorrow and shame.\r\n\r\n\u201cAh!\u201d quoth the Yeoman, \u201chere shall rise a game;*        *some diversion\r\nAll that I can anon I will you tell,\r\nSince he is gone; the foule fiend him quell!*                   *destroy\r\nFor ne\u2019er hereafter will I with him meet,\r\nFor penny nor for pound, I you behete.*                         *promise\r\nHe that me broughte first unto that game,\r\nEre that he die, sorrow have he and shame.\r\nFor it is earnest* to me, by my faith;                 *a serious matter\r\nThat feel I well, what so any man saith;\r\nAnd yet for all my smart, and all my grief,\r\nFor all my sorrow, labour, and mischief,*                       *trouble\r\nI coulde never leave it in no wise.\r\nNow would to God my witte might suffice\r\nTo tellen all that longeth to that art!\r\nBut natheless yet will I telle part;\r\nSince that my lord is gone, I will not spare;\r\nSuch thing as that I know, I will declare.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Canon\u2019s Yeoman\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. \u201cThe introduction,\u201d says Tyrwhitt, \u201cof the Canon\u2019s\r\nYeoman to tell a Tale at a time when so many of the original\r\ncharacters remain to be called upon, appears a little\r\nextraordinary. It should seem that some sudden resentment\r\nhad determined Chaucer to interrupt the regular course of his\r\nwork, in order to insert a satire against the alchemists. That\r\ntheir pretended science was much cultivated about this time,\r\nand produced its usual evils, may fairly be inferred from the\r\nAct, which was passed soon after, 5 H. IV. c. iv., to make it\r\nfelony \u2018to multiply gold or silver, or to use the art of\r\nmultiplication.\u2019\u201d Tyrwhitt finds in the prologue some colour\r\nfor the hypothesis that this Tale was intended by Chaucer to\r\nbegin the return journey from Canterbury; but against this\r\nmust be set the fact that the Yeoman himself expressly speaks\r\nof the distance to Canterbury yet to be ridden.\r\n\r\n2. Fully five mile:  From some place which the loss of the\r\nSecond Nun\u2019s Prologue does not enable us to identify.\r\n\r\n3. Peytrel: the breast-plate of a horse\u2019s harness; French,\r\n\u201cpoitrail.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. A maile twyfold:  a double valise; a wallet hanging across\r\nthe crupper on either side of the horse.\r\n\r\n5. Multiply:  transmute metals, in the attempt to multiply gold\r\nand silver by alchemy.\r\n\r\n6. \u201cConscius ipse sibi de se putat omnia dici\u201d (\u201cThe\r\nconspirator believes that everything spoken refers to himself\u201d)\r\n\u2014 \u201cDe Moribus,\u201d I. i. dist. 17.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nWith this Canon I dwelt have seven year,\r\nAnd of his science am I ne\u2019er the near*                          *nearer\r\nAll that I had I have lost thereby,\r\nAnd, God wot, so have many more than I.\r\nWhere I was wont to be right fresh and gay\r\nOf clothing, and of other good array\r\nNow may I wear an hose upon mine head;\r\nAnd where my colour was both fresh and red,\r\nNow is it wan, and of a leaden hue\r\n(Whoso it useth, sore shall he it rue);\r\nAnd of my swink* yet bleared is mine eye;                        *labour\r\nLo what advantage is to multiply!\r\nThat sliding* science hath me made so bare,         *slippery, deceptive\r\nThat I have no good,* where that ever I fare;                  *property\r\nAnd yet I am indebted so thereby\r\nOf gold, that I have borrow\u2019d truely,\r\nThat, while I live, I shall it quite* never;                      *repay\r\nLet every man beware by me for ever.\r\nWhat manner man that casteth* him thereto,                     *betaketh\r\nIf he continue, I hold *his thrift y-do;*         *prosperity at an end*\r\nSo help me God, thereby shall he not win,\r\nBut empty his purse, and make his wittes thin.\r\nAnd when he, through his madness and folly,\r\nHath lost his owen good through jupartie,*                   *hazard <2>\r\nThen he exciteth other men thereto,\r\nTo lose their good as he himself hath do\u2019.\r\nFor unto shrewes* joy it is and ease                        *wicked folk\r\nTo have their fellows in pain and disease.*                     *trouble\r\nThus was I ones learned of a clerk;\r\nOf that no charge;* I will speak of our work.                    *matter\r\n\r\nWhen we be there as we shall exercise\r\nOur elvish* craft, we seeme wonder wise,              *fantastic, wicked\r\nOur termes be so *clergial and quaint.*             *learned and strange\r\nI blow the fire till that mine hearte faint.\r\nWhy should I tellen each proportion\r\nOf thinges, whiche that we work upon,\r\nAs on five or six ounces, may well be,\r\nOf silver, or some other quantity?\r\nAnd busy me to telle you the names,\r\nAs orpiment, burnt bones, iron squames,*                     *scales <3>\r\nThat into powder grounden be full small?\r\nAnd in an earthen pot how put is all,\r\nAnd, salt y-put in, and also peppere,\r\nBefore these powders that I speak of here,\r\nAnd well y-cover\u2019d with a lamp of glass?\r\nAnd of much other thing which that there was?\r\nAnd of the pots and glasses engluting,*                      *sealing up\r\nThat of the air might passen out no thing?\r\nAnd of the easy* fire, and smart** also,                   *slow **quick\r\nWhich that was made? and of the care and woe\r\nThat we had in our matters subliming,\r\nAnd in amalgaming, and calcining\r\nOf quicksilver, called mercury crude?\r\nFor all our sleightes we can not conclude.\r\nOur orpiment, and sublim\u2019d mercury,\r\nOur ground litharge* eke on the porphyry,                    *white lead\r\nOf each of these of ounces a certain,*               *certain proportion\r\nNot helpeth us, our labour is in vain.\r\nNor neither our spirits\u2019 ascensioun,\r\nNor our matters that lie all fix\u2019d adown,\r\nMay in our working nothing us avail;\r\nFor lost is all our labour and travail,\r\nAnd all the cost, a twenty devil way,\r\nIs lost also, which we upon it lay.\r\n\r\nThere is also full many another thing\r\nThat is unto our craft appertaining,\r\nThough I by order them not rehearse can,\r\nBecause that I am a lewed* man;                               *unlearned\r\nYet will I tell them as they come to mind,\r\nAlthough I cannot set them in their kind,\r\nAs sal-armoniac, verdigris, borace;\r\nAnd sundry vessels made of earth and glass; <4>\r\nOur urinales, and our descensories,\r\nPhials, and croslets, and sublimatories,\r\nCucurbites, and alembikes eke,\r\nAnd other suche, *dear enough a leek,*          *worth less than a leek*\r\nIt needeth not for to rehearse them all.\r\nWaters rubifying, and bulles\u2019 gall,\r\nArsenic, sal-armoniac, and brimstone,\r\nAnd herbes could I tell eke many a one,\r\nAs egremoine,* valerian, and lunary,**             *agrimony **moon-wort\r\nAnd other such, if that me list to tarry;\r\nOur lampes burning bothe night and day,\r\nTo bring about our craft if that we may;\r\nOur furnace eke of calcination,\r\nAnd of waters albification,\r\nUnslaked lime, chalk, and *glair of an ey,*                   *egg-white\r\nPowders diverse, ashes, dung, piss, and clay,\r\nSeared pokettes,<5> saltpetre, and vitriol;\r\nAnd divers fires made of wood and coal;\r\nSal-tartar, alkali, salt preparate,\r\nAnd combust matters, and coagulate;\r\nClay made with horse and manne\u2019s hair, and oil\r\nOf tartar, alum, glass, barm, wort, argoil,*           *potter\u2019s clay<6>\r\nRosalgar,* and other matters imbibing;              *flowers of antimony\r\nAnd eke of our matters encorporing,*                      *incorporating\r\nAnd of our silver citrination, <7>\r\nOur cementing, and fermentation,\r\nOur ingots,* tests, and many thinges mo\u2019.                    *moulds <8>\r\nI will you tell, as was me taught also,\r\nThe foure spirits, and the bodies seven,\r\nBy order, as oft I heard my lord them neven.*                      *name\r\nThe first spirit Quicksilver called is;\r\nThe second Orpiment; the third, y-wis,\r\nSal-Armoniac, and the fourth Brimstone.\r\nThe bodies sev\u2019n eke, lo them here anon.\r\nSol gold is, and Luna silver we threpe*                        *name <9>\r\nMars iron, Mercury quicksilver we clepe;*                          *call\r\nSaturnus lead, and Jupiter is tin,\r\nAnd Venus copper, by my father\u2019s kin.\r\n\r\nThis cursed craft whoso will exercise,\r\nHe shall no good have that him may suffice;\r\nFor all the good he spendeth thereabout,\r\nHe lose shall, thereof have I no doubt.\r\nWhoso that list to utter* his folly,                            *display\r\nLet him come forth and learn to multiply:\r\nAnd every man that hath aught in his coffer,\r\nLet him appear, and wax a philosopher;\r\nAscaunce* that craft is so light to lear.**               *as if **learn\r\nNay, nay, God wot, all be he monk or frere,\r\nPriest or canon, or any other wight;\r\nThough he sit at his book both day and night;\r\nIn learning of this *elvish nice* lore,             * fantastic, foolish\r\nAll is in vain; and pardie muche more,\r\nIs to learn a lew\u2019d* man this subtlety;                        *ignorant\r\nFie! speak not thereof, for it will not be.\r\nAnd *conne he letterure,* or conne he none,       *if he knows learning*\r\nAs in effect, he shall it find all one;\r\nFor bothe two, by my salvation,\r\nConcluden in multiplication*                   *transmutation by alchemy\r\nAlike well, when they have all y-do;\r\nThis is to say, they faile bothe two.\r\nYet forgot I to make rehearsale\r\nOf waters corrosive, and of limaile,*                     *metal filings\r\nAnd of bodies\u2019 mollification,\r\nAnd also of their induration,\r\nOiles, ablutions, metal fusible,\r\nTo tellen all, would passen any Bible\r\nThat owhere* is; wherefore, as for the best,                   *anywhere\r\nOf all these names now will I me rest;\r\nFor, as I trow, I have you told enough\r\nTo raise a fiend, all look he ne\u2019er so rough.\r\n\r\nAh! nay, let be; the philosopher\u2019s stone,\r\nElixir call\u2019d, we seeke fast each one;\r\nFor had we him, then were we sicker* enow;                       *secure\r\nBut unto God of heaven I make avow,*                         *confession\r\nFor all our craft, when we have all y-do,\r\nAnd all our sleight, he will not come us to.\r\nHe hath y-made us spende muche good,\r\nFor sorrow of which almost we waxed wood,*                          *mad\r\nBut that good hope creeped in our heart,\r\nSupposing ever, though we sore smart,\r\nTo be relieved by him afterward.\r\nSuch supposing and hope is sharp and hard.\r\nI warn you well it is to seeken ever.\r\nThat future temps* hath made men dissever,**          *time  **part from\r\nIn trust thereof, from all that ever they had,\r\nYet of that art they cannot waxe sad,*                        *repentant\r\nFor unto them it is a bitter sweet;\r\nSo seemeth it; for had they but a sheet\r\nWhich that they mighte wrap them in at night,\r\nAnd a bratt* to walk in by dayelight,                         *cloak<10>\r\nThey would them sell, and spend it on this craft;\r\nThey cannot stint,* until no thing be laft.                       *cease\r\nAnd evermore, wherever that they gon,\r\nMen may them knowe by smell of brimstone;\r\nFor all the world they stinken as a goat;\r\nTheir savour is so rammish and so hot,\r\nThat though a man a mile from them be,\r\nThe savour will infect him, truste me.\r\nLo, thus by smelling and threadbare array,\r\nIf that men list, this folk they knowe may.\r\nAnd if a man will ask them privily,\r\nWhy they be clothed so unthriftily,*                           *shabbily\r\nThey right anon will rownen* in his ear,                        *whisper\r\nAnd sayen, if that they espied were,\r\nMen would them slay, because of their science:\r\nLo, thus these folk betrayen innocence!\r\n\r\nPass over this; I go my tale unto.\r\nEre that the pot be on the fire y-do*                            *placed\r\nOf metals, with a certain quantity\r\nMy lord them tempers,* and no man but he        *adjusts the proportions\r\n(Now he is gone, I dare say boldely);\r\nFor as men say, he can do craftily,\r\nAlgate* I wot well he hath such a name,                        *although\r\nAnd yet full oft he runneth into blame;\r\nAnd know ye how? full oft it happ\u2019neth so,\r\nThe pot to-breaks, and farewell! all is go\u2019.*                      *gone\r\nThese metals be of so great violence,\r\nOur walles may not make them resistence,\r\n*But if* they were wrought of lime and stone;                   *unless*\r\nThey pierce so, that through the wall they gon;\r\nAnd some of them sink down into the ground\r\n(Thus have we lost by times many a pound),\r\nAnd some are scatter\u2019d all the floor about;\r\nSome leap into the roof withoute doubt.\r\nThough that the fiend not in our sight him show,\r\nI trowe that he be with us, that shrew;*                 *impious wretch\r\nIn helle, where that he is lord and sire,\r\nIs there no more woe, rancour, nor ire.\r\nWhen that our pot is broke, as I have said,\r\nEvery man chides, and holds him *evil apaid.*             *dissatisfied*\r\nSome said it was *long on* the fire-making;            *because of <11>*\r\nSome saide nay, it was on the blowing\r\n(Then was I fear\u2019d, for that was mine office);\r\n\u201cStraw!\u201d quoth the third, \u201cye be *lewed and **nice,  *ignorant **foolish\r\nIt was not temper\u2019d* as it ought to be.\u201d       *mixed in due proportions\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the fourthe, \u201cstint* and hearken me;                  *stop\r\nBecause our fire was not y-made of beech,\r\nThat is the cause, and other none, *so the\u2019ch.*        *so may I thrive*\r\nI cannot tell whereon it was along,\r\nBut well I wot great strife is us among.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat?\u201d quoth my lord, \u201cthere is no more to do\u2019n,\r\nOf these perils I will beware eftsoon.*                    *another time\r\nI am right sicker* that the pot was crazed.**            *sure **cracked\r\nBe as be may, be ye no thing amazed.*                        *confounded\r\nAs usage is, let sweep the floor as swithe;*                    *quickly\r\nPluck up your heartes and be glad and blithe.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe mullok* on a heap y-sweeped was,                            *rubbish\r\nAnd on the floor y-cast a canevas,\r\nAnd all this mullok in a sieve y-throw,\r\nAnd sifted, and y-picked many a throw.*                            *time\r\n\u201cPardie,\u201d quoth one, \u201csomewhat of our metal\r\nYet is there here, though that we have not all.\r\nAnd though this thing *mishapped hath as now,*           *has gone amiss\r\nAnother time it may be well enow.                            at present*\r\nWe muste *put our good in adventure; *               *risk our property*\r\nA merchant, pardie, may not aye endure,\r\nTruste me well, in his prosperity:\r\nSometimes his good is drenched* in the sea,               *drowned, sunk\r\nAnd sometimes comes it safe unto the land.\u201d\r\n\u201cPeace,\u201d quoth my lord; \u201cthe next time I will fand*           *endeavour\r\nTo bring our craft *all in another plight,*  *to a different conclusion*\r\nAnd but I do, Sirs, let me have the wite;*                        *blame\r\nThere was default in somewhat, well I wot.\u201d\r\nAnother said, the fire was over hot.\r\nBut be it hot or cold, I dare say this,\r\nThat we concluden evermore amiss;\r\nWe fail alway of that which we would have;\r\nAnd in our madness evermore we rave.\r\nAnd when we be together every one,\r\nEvery man seemeth a Solomon.\r\nBut all thing, which that shineth as the gold,\r\nIt is not gold, as I have heard it told;\r\nNor every apple that is fair at eye,\r\nIt is not good, what so men clap* or cry.                        *assert\r\nRight so, lo, fareth it amonges us.\r\nHe that the wisest seemeth, by Jesus,\r\nIs most fool, when it cometh to the prefe;*                 *proof, test\r\nAnd he that seemeth truest, is a thief.\r\nThat shall ye know, ere that I from you wend;\r\nBy that I of my tale have made an end.\r\n\r\nThere was a canon of religioun\r\nAmonges us, would infect* all a town,                           *deceive\r\nThough it as great were as was Nineveh,\r\nRome, Alisandre,* Troy, or other three.                      *Alexandria\r\nHis sleightes* and his infinite falseness                *cunning tricks\r\nThere coulde no man writen, as I guess,\r\nThough that he mighte live a thousand year;\r\nIn all this world of falseness n\u2019is* his peer.             *there is not\r\nFor in his termes he will him so wind,\r\nAnd speak his wordes in so sly a kind,\r\nWhen he commune shall with any wight,\r\nThat he will make him doat* anon aright,               *become foolishly\r\nBut it a fiende be, as himself is.                          fond of him*\r\nFull many a man hath he beguil\u2019d ere this,\r\nAnd will, if that he may live any while;\r\nAnd yet men go and ride many a mile\r\nHim for to seek, and have his acquaintance,\r\nNot knowing of his false governance.*                 *deceitful conduct\r\nAnd if you list to give me audience,\r\nI will it telle here in your presence.\r\nBut, worshipful canons religious,\r\nNe deeme not that I slander your house,\r\nAlthough that my tale of a canon be.\r\nOf every order some shrew is, pardie;\r\nAnd God forbid that all a company\r\nShould rue a singular* manne\u2019s folly.                        *individual\r\nTo slander you is no thing mine intent;\r\nBut to correct that is amiss I meant.\r\nThis tale was not only told for you,\r\nBut eke for other more; ye wot well how\r\nThat amonges Christe\u2019s apostles twelve\r\nThere was no traitor but Judas himselve;\r\nThen why should all the remenant have blame,\r\nThat guiltless were? By you I say the same.\r\nSave only this, if ye will hearken me,\r\nIf any Judas in your convent be,\r\nRemove him betimes, I you rede,*                                *counsel\r\nIf shame or loss may causen any dread.\r\nAnd be no thing displeased, I you pray;\r\nBut in this case hearken what I say.\r\n\r\nIn London was a priest, an annualere, <12>\r\nThat therein dwelled hadde many a year,\r\nWhich was so pleasant and so serviceable\r\nUnto the wife, where as he was at table,\r\nThat she would suffer him no thing to pay\r\nFor board nor clothing, went he ne\u2019er so gay;\r\nAnd spending silver had he right enow;\r\nThereof no force;* will proceed as now,                       *no matter\r\nAnd telle forth my tale of the canon,\r\nThat brought this prieste to confusion.\r\nThis false canon came upon a day\r\nUnto the prieste\u2019s chamber, where he lay,\r\nBeseeching him to lend him a certain\r\nOf gold, and he would quit it him again.\r\n\u201cLend me a mark,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbut dayes three,\r\nAnd at my day I will it quite thee.\r\nAnd if it so be that thou find me false,\r\nAnother day hang me up by the halse.\u201d*                             *neck\r\nThis priest him took a mark, and that as swithe,*               *quickly\r\nAnd this canon him thanked often sithe,*                          *times\r\nAnd took his leave, and wente forth his way;\r\nAnd at the thirde day brought his money;\r\nAnd to the priest he took his gold again,\r\nWhereof this priest was wondrous glad and fain.*                *pleased\r\n\u201cCertes,\u201d quoth he, *\u201cnothing annoyeth me*           *I am not unwiling*\r\nTo lend a man a noble, or two, or three,\r\nOr what thing were in my possession,\r\nWhen he so true is of condition,\r\nThat in no wise he breake will his day;\r\nTo such a man I never can say nay.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat,\u201d quoth this canon, \u201cshould I be untrue?\r\nNay, that were *thing y-fallen all of new!*      *a new thing to happen*\r\nTruth is a thing that I will ever keep,\r\nUnto the day in which that I shall creep\r\nInto my grave; and elles God forbid;\r\nBelieve this as sicker* as your creed.                             *sure\r\nGod thank I, and in good time be it said,\r\nThat there was never man yet *evil apaid*     *displeased, dissatisfied*\r\nFor gold nor silver that he to me lent,\r\nNor ever falsehood in mine heart I meant.\r\nAnd Sir,\u201d quoth he, \u201cnow of my privity,\r\nSince ye so goodly have been unto me,\r\nAnd kithed* to me so great gentleness,                            *shown\r\nSomewhat, to quite with your kindeness,\r\nI will you shew, and if you list to lear,*                        *learn\r\nI will you teache plainly the mannere\r\nHow I can worken in philosophy.\r\nTake good heed, ye shall well see *at eye*           *with your own eye*\r\nThat I will do a mas\u2019try ere I go.\u201d\r\n\u201cYea,\u201d quoth the priest; \u201cyea, Sir, and will ye so?\r\nMary! thereof I pray you heartily.\u201d\r\n\u201cAt your commandement, Sir, truely,\u201d\r\nQuoth the canon, \u201cand elles God forbid.\u201d\r\nLo, how this thiefe could his service bede!*                      *offer\r\n\r\nFull sooth it is that such proffer\u2019d service\r\nStinketh, as witnesse *these olde wise;*        *those wise folk of old*\r\nAnd that full soon I will it verify\r\nIn this canon, root of all treachery,\r\nThat evermore delight had and gladness\r\n(Such fiendly thoughtes *in his heart impress*)   *press into his heart*\r\nHow Christe\u2019s people he may to mischief bring.\r\nGod keep us from his false dissimuling!\r\nWhat wiste this priest with whom that he dealt?\r\nNor of his harm coming he nothing felt.\r\nO sely* priest, O sely innocent!                                 *simple\r\nWith covetise anon thou shalt be blent;*              *blinded; beguiled\r\nO graceless, full blind is thy conceit!\r\nFor nothing art thou ware of the deceit\r\nWhich that this fox y-shapen* hath to thee;                   *contrived\r\nHis wily wrenches* thou not mayest flee.                         *snares\r\nWherefore, to go to the conclusioun\r\nThat referreth to thy confusion,\r\nUnhappy man, anon I will me hie*                                 *hasten\r\nTo telle thine unwit* and thy folly,                          *stupidity\r\nAnd eke the falseness of that other wretch,\r\nAs farforth as that my conning* will stretch.                 *knowledge\r\nThis canon was my lord, ye woulde ween;*                        *imagine\r\nSir Host, in faith, and by the heaven\u2019s queen,\r\nIt was another canon, and not he,\r\nThat can* an hundred fold more subtlety.                          *knows\r\nHe hath betrayed folkes many a time;\r\nOf his falseness it doleth* me to rhyme.                        *paineth\r\nAnd ever, when I speak of his falsehead,\r\nFor shame of him my cheekes waxe red;\r\nAlgates* they beginne for to glow,                             *at least\r\nFor redness have I none, right well I know,\r\nIn my visage; for fumes diverse\r\nOf metals, which ye have me heard rehearse,\r\nConsumed have and wasted my redness.\r\nNow take heed of this canon\u2019s cursedness.*                     *villainy\r\n\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth he to the priest, \u201clet your man gon\r\nFor quicksilver, that we it had anon;\r\nAnd let him bringen ounces two or three;\r\nAnd when he comes, as faste shall ye see\r\nA wondrous thing, which ye saw ne\u2019er ere this.\u201d\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth the priest, \u201cit shall be done, y-wis.\u201d*          *certainly\r\nHe bade his servant fetche him this thing,\r\nAnd he all ready was at his bidding,\r\nAnd went him forth, and came anon again\r\nWith this quicksilver, shortly for to sayn;\r\nAnd took these ounces three to the canoun;\r\nAnd he them laide well and fair adown,\r\nAnd bade the servant coales for to bring,\r\nThat he anon might go to his working.\r\nThe coales right anon weren y-fet,*                             *fetched\r\nAnd this canon y-took a crosselet*                             *crucible\r\nOut of his bosom, and shew\u2019d to the priest.\r\n\u201cThis instrument,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwhich that thou seest,\r\nTake in thine hand, and put thyself therein\r\nOf this quicksilver an ounce, and here begin,\r\nIn the name of Christ, to wax a philosopher.\r\nThere be full few, which that I woulde proffer\r\nTo shewe them thus much of my science;\r\nFor here shall ye see by experience\r\nThat this quicksilver I will mortify,<13>\r\nRight in your sight anon withoute lie,\r\nAnd make it as good silver, and as fine,\r\nAs there is any in your purse, or mine,\r\nOr elleswhere; and make it malleable,\r\nAnd elles holde me false and unable\r\nAmonge folk for ever to appear.\r\nI have a powder here that cost me dear,\r\nShall make all good, for it is cause of all\r\nMy conning,* which that I you shewe shall.                    *knowledge\r\nVoide* your man, and let him be thereout;                     *send away\r\nAnd shut the doore, while we be about\r\nOur privity, that no man us espy,\r\nWhile that we work in this phiosophy.\u201d\r\nAll, as he bade, fulfilled was in deed.\r\nThis ilke servant right anon out yede,*                            *went\r\nAnd his master y-shut the door anon,\r\nAnd to their labour speedily they gon.\r\n\r\nThis priest, at this cursed canon\u2019s biddIng,\r\nUpon the fire anon he set this thing,\r\nAnd blew the fire, and busied him full fast.\r\nAnd this canon into the croslet cast\r\nA powder, I know not whereof it was\r\nY-made, either of chalk, either of glass,\r\nOr somewhat elles, was not worth a fly,\r\nTo blinden* with this priest; and bade him hie**   *deceive **make haste\r\nThe coales for to couchen* all above                        lay in order\r\nThe croslet; \u201cfor, in token I thee love,\u201d\r\nQuoth this canon, \u201cthine owen handes two\r\nShall work all thing that here shall be do\u2019.\u201d\r\n*\u201cGrand mercy,\u201d* quoth the priest, and was full glad,     *great thanks*\r\nAnd couch\u2019d the coales as the canon bade.\r\nAnd while he busy was, this fiendly wretch,\r\nThis false canon (the foule fiend him fetch),\r\nOut of his bosom took a beechen coal,\r\nIn which full subtifly was made a hole,\r\nAnd therein put was of silver limaile*                          *filings\r\nAn ounce, and stopped was withoute fail\r\nThe hole with wax, to keep the limaile in.\r\nAnd understande, that this false gin*                       *contrivance\r\nWas not made there, but it was made before;\r\nAnd other thinges I shall tell you more,\r\nHereafterward, which that he with him brought;\r\nEre he came there, him to beguile he thought,\r\nAnd so he did, ere that they *went atwin;*                   *separated*\r\nTill he had turned him, could he not blin.*                  *cease <14>\r\nIt doleth* me, when that I of him speak;                        *paineth\r\nOn his falsehood fain would I me awreak,*                *revenge myself\r\nIf I wist how, but he is here and there;\r\nHe is so variant,* he abides nowhere.                        *changeable\r\n\r\nBut take heed, Sirs, now for Godde\u2019s love.\r\nHe took his coal, of which I spake above,\r\nAnd in his hand he bare it privily,\r\nAnd while the prieste couched busily\r\nThe coales, as I tolde you ere this,\r\nThis canon saide, \u201cFriend, ye do amiss;\r\nThis is not couched as it ought to be,\r\nBut soon I shall amenden it,\u201d quoth he.\r\n\u201cNow let me meddle therewith but a while,\r\nFor of you have I pity, by Saint Gile.\r\nYe be right hot, I see well how ye sweat;\r\nHave here a cloth, and wipe away the wet.\u201d\r\nAnd while that the prieste wip\u2019d his face,\r\nThis canon took his coal, \u2014 *with sorry grace,* \u2014        *evil fortune\r\nAnd layed it above on the midward                           attend him!*\r\nOf the croslet, and blew well afterward,\r\nTill that the coals beganne fast to brenn.*                        *burn\r\n\u201cNow give us drinke,\u201d quoth this canon then,\r\n\u201cAnd swithe* all shall be well, I undertake.                    *quickly\r\nSitte we down, and let us merry make.\u201d\r\nAnd whenne that this canon\u2019s beechen coal\r\nWas burnt, all the limaile out of the hole\r\nInto the crosselet anon fell down;\r\nAnd so it muste needes, by reasoun,\r\nSince it above so *even couched* was;                     *exactly laid*\r\nBut thereof wist the priest no thing, alas!\r\nHe deemed all the coals alike good,\r\nFor of the sleight he nothing understood.\r\n\r\nAnd when this alchemister saw his time,\r\n\u201cRise up, Sir Priest,\u201d quoth he, \u201cand stand by me;\r\nAnd, for I wot well ingot* have ye none;                          *mould\r\nGo, walke forth, and bring me a chalk stone;\r\nFor I will make it of the same shape\r\nThat is an ingot, if I may have hap.\r\nBring eke with you a bowl, or else a pan,\r\nFull of water, and ye shall well see than*                         *then\r\nHow that our business shall *hap and preve*                    *succeed*\r\nAnd yet, for ye shall have no misbelieve*                      *mistrust\r\nNor wrong conceit of me, in your absence,\r\nI wille not be out of your presence,\r\nBut go with you, and come with you again.\u201d\r\nThe chamber-doore, shortly for to sayn,\r\nThey opened and shut, and went their way,\r\nAnd forth with them they carried the key;\r\nAnd came again without any delay.\r\nWhy should I tarry all the longe day?\r\nHe took the chalk, and shap\u2019d it in the wise\r\nOf an ingot, as I shall you devise;*                           *describe\r\nI say, he took out of his owen sleeve\r\nA teine* of silver (evil may he cheve!**)        *little piece **prosper\r\nWhich that ne was but a just ounce of weight.\r\nAnd take heed now of his cursed sleight;\r\nHe shap\u2019d his ingot, in length and in brede*                    *breadth\r\nOf this teine, withouten any drede,*                              *doubt\r\nSo slily, that the priest it not espied;\r\nAnd in his sleeve again he gan it hide;\r\nAnd from the fire he took up his mattere,\r\nAnd in th\u2019 ingot put it with merry cheer;\r\nAnd in the water-vessel he it cast,\r\nWhen that him list, and bade the priest as fast\r\nLook what there is; \u201cPut in thine hand and grope;\r\nThere shalt thou finde silver, as I hope.\u201d\r\nWhat, devil of helle! should it elles be?\r\nShaving of silver, silver is, pardie.\r\nHe put his hand in, and took up a teine\r\nOf silver fine; and glad in every vein\r\nWas this priest, when he saw that it was so.\r\n\u201cGodde\u2019s blessing, and his mother\u2019s also,\r\nAnd alle hallows,* have ye, Sir Canon!\u201d                          *saints\r\nSaide this priest, \u201cand I their malison*                          *curse\r\nBut, an\u2019* ye vouchesafe to teache me                                 *if\r\nThis noble craft and this subtility,\r\nI will be yours in all that ever I may.\u201d\r\nQuoth the canon, \u201cYet will I make assay\r\nThe second time, that ye may take heed,\r\nAnd be expert of this, and, in your need,\r\nAnother day assay in mine absence\r\nThis discipline, and this crafty science.\r\nLet take another ounce,\u201d quoth he tho,*                            *then\r\n\u201cOf quicksilver, withoute wordes mo\u2019,\r\nAnd do therewith as ye have done ere this\r\nWith that other, which that now silver is. \u201c\r\n\r\nThe priest him busied, all that e\u2019er he can,\r\nTo do as this canon, this cursed man,\r\nCommanded him, and fast he blew the fire\r\nFor to come to th\u2019 effect of his desire.\r\nAnd this canon right in the meanewhile\r\nAll ready was this priest eft* to beguile,                        *again\r\nand, for a countenance,* in his hande bare                    *stratagem\r\nAn hollow sticke (take keep* and beware);                          *heed\r\nOf silver limaile put was, as before\r\nWas in his coal, and stopped with wax well\r\nFor to keep in his limaile every deal.*                        *particle\r\nAnd while this priest was in his business,\r\nThis canon with his sticke gan him dress*                         *apply\r\nTo him anon, and his powder cast in,\r\nAs he did erst (the devil out of his skin\r\nHim turn, I pray to God, for his falsehead,\r\nFor he was ever false in thought and deed),\r\nAnd with his stick, above the crosselet,\r\nThat was ordained* with that false get,**        *provided **contrivance\r\nHe stirr\u2019d the coales, till relente gan\r\nThe wax against the fire, as every man,\r\nBut he a fool be, knows well it must need.\r\nAnd all that in the sticke was out yede,*                          *went\r\nAnd in the croslet hastily* it fell.                            *quickly\r\nNow, goode Sirs, what will ye bet* than well?                    *better\r\nWhen that this priest was thus beguil\u2019d again,\r\nSupposing naught but truthe, sooth to sayn,\r\nHe was so glad, that I can not express\r\nIn no mannere his mirth and his gladness;\r\nAnd to the canon he proffer\u2019d eftsoon*                 *forthwith; again\r\nBody and good. \u201cYea,\u201d quoth the canon soon,\r\n\u201cThough poor I be, crafty* thou shalt me find;                  *skilful\r\nI warn thee well, yet is there more behind.\r\nIs any copper here within?\u201d said he.\r\n\u201cYea, Sir,\u201d the prieste said, \u201cI trow there be.\u201d\r\n\u201cElles go buy us some, and that as swithe.*                     *swiftly\r\nNow, goode Sir, go forth thy way and hie* thee.\u201d                 *hasten\r\nHe went his way, and with the copper came,\r\nAnd this canon it in his handes name,*                        *took <15>\r\nAnd of that copper weighed out an ounce.\r\nToo simple is my tongue to pronounce,\r\nAs minister of my wit, the doubleness\r\nOf this canon, root of all cursedness.\r\nHe friendly seem\u2019d to them that knew him not;\r\nBut he was fiendly, both in work and thought.\r\nIt wearieth me to tell of his falseness;\r\nAnd natheless yet will I it express,\r\nTo that intent men may beware thereby,\r\nAnd for none other cause truely.\r\nHe put this copper in the crosselet,\r\nAnd on the fire as swithe* he hath it set,                      *swiftly\r\nAnd cast in powder, and made the priest to blow,\r\nAnd in his working for to stoope low,\r\nAs he did erst,* and all was but a jape;**               *before **trick\r\nRight as him list the priest *he made his ape.*           *befooled him*\r\nAnd afterward in the ingot he it cast,\r\nAnd in the pan he put it at the last\r\nOf water, and in he put his own hand;\r\nAnd in his sleeve, as ye beforehand\r\nHearde me tell, he had a silver teine;*                     *small piece\r\nHe silly took it out, this cursed heine*                         *wretch\r\n(Unweeting* this priest of his false craft),               *unsuspecting\r\nAnd in the panne\u2019s bottom he it laft*                              *left\r\nAnd in the water rumbleth to and fro,\r\nAnd wondrous privily took up also\r\nThe copper teine (not knowing thilke priest),\r\nAnd hid it, and him hente* by the breast,                          *took\r\nAnd to him spake, and thus said in his game;\r\n\u201cStoop now adown; by God, ye be to blame;\r\nHelpe me now, as I did you whilere;*                             *before\r\nPut in your hand, and looke what is there.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis priest took up this silver teine anon;\r\nAnd thenne said the canon, \u201cLet us gon,\r\nWith these three teines which that we have wrought,\r\nTo some goldsmith, and *weet if they be aught:*    *find out if they are\r\nFor, by my faith, I would not for my hood                worth anything*\r\n*But if* they were silver fine and good,                         *unless\r\nAnd that as swithe* well proved shall it be.\u201d                   *quickly\r\nUnto the goldsmith with these teines three\r\nThey went anon, and put them in assay*                            *proof\r\nTo fire and hammer; might no man say nay,\r\nBut that they weren as they ought to be.\r\nThis sotted* priest, who gladder was than he?          *stupid, besotted\r\nWas never bird gladder against the day;\r\nNor nightingale in the season of May\r\nWas never none, that better list to sing;\r\nNor lady lustier in carolling,\r\nOr for to speak of love and womanhead;\r\nNor knight in arms to do a hardy deed,\r\nTo standen in grace of his lady dear,\r\nThan had this priest this crafte for to lear;\r\nAnd to the canon thus he spake and said;\r\n\u201cFor love of God, that for us alle died,\r\nAnd as I may deserve it unto you,\r\nWhat shall this receipt coste? tell me now.\u201d\r\n\u201cBy our Lady,\u201d quoth this canon, \u201cit is dear.\r\nI warn you well, that, save I and a frere,\r\nIn Engleland there can no man it make.\u201d\r\n*\u201cNo force,\u201d* quoth he; \u201cnow, Sir, for Godde\u2019s sake,          *no matter\r\nWhat shall I pay? telle me, I you pray.\u201d\r\n\u201cY-wis,\u201d* quoth he, \u201cit is full dear, I say.                  *certainly\r\nSir, at one word, if that you list it have,\r\nYe shall pay forty pound, so God me save;\r\nAnd n\u2019ere* the friendship that ye did ere this          *were it not for\r\nTo me, ye shoulde paye more, y-wis.\u201d\r\nThis priest the sum of forty pound anon\r\nOf nobles fet,* and took them every one                         *fetched\r\nTo this canon, for this ilke receipt.\r\nAll his working was but fraud and deceit.\r\n\u201cSir Priest,\u201d he said, \u201cI keep* to have no los**     *care **praise <16>\r\nOf my craft, for I would it were kept close;\r\nAnd as ye love me, keep it secre:\r\nFor if men knewen all my subtlety,\r\nBy God, they woulde have so great envy\r\nTo me, because of my philosophy,\r\nI should be dead, there were no other way.\u201d\r\n\u201cGod it forbid,\u201d quoth the priest, \u201cwhat ye say.\r\nYet had I lever* spenden all the good                            *rather\r\nWhich that I have (and elles were I wood*),                         *mad\r\nThan that ye shoulde fall in such mischief.\u201d\r\n\u201cFor your good will, Sir, have ye right good prefe,\u201d*   *results of your\r\nQuoth the canon; \u201cand farewell, grand mercy.\u201d              *experiments*\r\nHe went his way, and never the priest him sey *                     *saw\r\nAfter that day; and when that this priest should\r\nMaken assay, at such time as he would,\r\nOf this receipt, farewell! it would not be.\r\nLo, thus bejaped* and beguil\u2019d was he;                          *tricked\r\nThus made he his introduction\r\nTo bringe folk to their destruction.\r\n\r\nConsider, Sirs, how that in each estate\r\nBetwixte men and gold there is debate,\r\nSo farforth that *unnethes is there none.*       *scarcely is there any*\r\nThis multiplying blint* so many a one,                  *blinds, deceive\r\nThat in good faith I trowe that it be\r\nThe cause greatest of such scarcity.\r\nThese philosophers speak so mistily\r\nIn this craft, that men cannot come thereby,\r\nFor any wit that men have how-a-days.\r\nThey may well chatter, as do these jays,\r\nAnd in their termes set their *lust and pain,*   *pleasure and exertion*\r\nBut to their purpose shall they ne\u2019er attain.\r\nA man may lightly* learn, if he have aught,                      *easily\r\nTo multiply, and bring his good to naught.\r\nLo, such a lucre* is in this lusty** game;            *profit **pleasant\r\nA manne\u2019s mirth it will turn all to grame,*                 *sorrow <17>\r\nAnd empty also great and heavy purses,\r\nAnd make folke for to purchase curses\r\nOf them that have thereto their good y-lent.\r\nOh, fy for shame! they that have been brent,*                     *burnt\r\nAlas! can they not flee the fire\u2019s heat?\r\nYe that it use, I rede* that ye it lete,**               *advise **leave\r\nLest ye lose all; for better than never is late;\r\nNever to thrive, were too long a date.\r\nThough ye prowl aye, ye shall it never find;\r\nYe be as bold as is Bayard the blind,\r\nThat blunders forth, and *peril casteth none;*     *perceives no danger*\r\nHe is as bold to run against a stone,\r\nAs for to go beside it in the way:\r\nSo fare ye that multiply, I say.\r\nIf that your eyen cannot see aright,\r\nLook that your minde lacke not his sight.\r\nFor though you look never so broad, and stare,\r\nYe shall not win a mite on that chaffare,*            *traffic, commerce\r\nBut wasten all that ye may *rape and renn.*       *get by hook or crook*\r\nWithdraw the fire, lest it too faste brenn;*                       *burn\r\nMeddle no more with that art, I mean;\r\nFor if ye do, your thrift* is gone full clean.               *prosperity\r\nAnd right as swithe* I will you telle here                      *quickly\r\nWhat philosophers say in this mattere.\r\n\r\nLo, thus saith Arnold of the newe town, <18>\r\nAs his Rosary maketh mentioun,\r\nHe saith right thus, withouten any lie;\r\n\u201cThere may no man mercury mortify,<13>\r\nBut* it be with his brother\u2019s knowledging.\u201d                      *except\r\nLo, how that he, which firste said this thing,\r\nOf philosophers father was, Hermes;<19>\r\nHe saith, how that the dragon doubteless\r\nHe dieth not, but if that he be slain\r\nWith his brother. And this is for to sayn,\r\nBy the dragon, Mercury, and none other,\r\nHe understood, and Brimstone by his brother,\r\nThat out of Sol and Luna were y-draw.*                   *drawn, derived\r\n\u201cAnd therefore,\u201d said he, \u201ctake heed to my saw.                  *saying\r\nLet no man busy him this art to seech,*                  *study, explore\r\n*But if* that he th\u2019intention and speech                         *unless\r\nOf philosophers understande can;\r\nAnd if he do, he is a lewed* man.                     *ignorant, foolish\r\nFor this science and this conning,\u201d* quoth he,                *knowledge\r\n\u201cIs of the secret of secrets <20> pardie.\u201d\r\nAlso there was a disciple of Plato,\r\nThat on a time said his master to,\r\nAs his book, Senior, <21> will bear witness,\r\nAnd this was his demand in soothfastness:\r\n\u201cTell me the name of thilke* privy** stone.\u201d              *that **secret\r\nAnd Plato answer\u2019d unto him anon;\r\n\u201cTake the stone that Titanos men name.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhich is that?\u201d quoth he. \u201cMagnesia is the same,\u201d\r\nSaide Plato. \u201cYea, Sir, and is it thus?\r\nThis is ignotum per ignotius. <22>\r\nWhat is Magnesia, good Sir, I pray?\u201d\r\n\u201cIt is a water that is made, I say,\r\nOf th\u2019 elementes foure,\u201d quoth Plato.\r\n\u201cTell me the roote, good Sir,\u201d quoth he tho,*                      *then\r\n\u201cOf that water, if that it be your will.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d quoth Plato, \u201ccertain that I n\u2019ill.*               *will not\r\nThe philosophers sworn were every one,\r\nThat they should not discover it to none,\r\nNor in no book it write in no mannere;\r\nFor unto God it is so lefe* and dear,                          *precious\r\nThat he will not that it discover\u2019d be,\r\nBut where it liketh to his deity\r\nMan for to inspire, and eke for to defend\u2019*                     *protect\r\nWhom that he liketh; lo, this is the end.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen thus conclude I, since that God of heaven\r\nWill not that these philosophers neven*                            *name\r\nHow that a man shall come unto this stone,\r\nI rede* as for the best to let it gon.                          *counsel\r\nFor whoso maketh God his adversary,\r\nAs for to work any thing in contrary\r\nOf his will, certes never shall he thrive,\r\nThough that he multiply term of his live. <23>\r\nAnd there a point;* for ended is my tale.                           *end\r\nGod send ev\u2019ry good man *boot of his bale.*      *remedy for his sorrow*\r\n\r\nNote to the Canon\u2019s Yeoman\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n1.  The Tale of the Canon\u2019s Yeoman, like those of the Wife of\r\nBath and the Pardoner, is made up of two parts; a long\r\ngeneral introduction, and the story proper. In the case of the\r\nWife of Bath, the interruptions of other pilgrims, and the\r\nautobiographical nature of the discourse, recommend the\r\nseparation of the prologue from the Tale proper; but in the\r\nother cases the introductory or merely connecting matter\r\nceases wholly where the opening of \u201cThe Tale\u201d has been\r\nmarked in the text.\r\n\r\n2. Jupartie: Jeopardy, hazard.  In Froissart\u2019s French, \u201ca jeu\r\npartie\u201d is used to signify a game or contest in which the\r\nchances were exactly equal for both sides.\r\n\r\n3. Squames: Scales; Latin, \u201csquamae.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. Descensories: vessels for distillation \u201cper descensum;\u201d they\r\nwere placed under the fire, and the spirit to be extracted was\r\nthrown downwards.\r\nCroslets: crucibles; French, \u201ccreuset.\u201d.\r\nCucurbites: retorts; distilling-vessels; so called from their\r\nlikeness in shape to a gourd \u2014 Latin, \u201ccucurbita.\u201d\r\nAlembikes:stills, limbecs.\r\n\r\n5. Seared pokettes: the meaning of this phrase is obscure; but\r\nif we take the reading \u201ccered poketts,\u201d from the Harleian\r\nmanuscript, we are led to the supposition that it signifies\r\nreceptacles \u2014 bags or pokes \u2014 prepared with wax for some\r\nprocess. Latin, \u201ccera,\u201d wax.\r\n\r\n6. Argoil: potter\u2019s clay, used for luting or closing vessels in\r\nthe laboratories of the alchemists; Latin, \u201cargilla;\u201d French,\r\n\u201cargile.\u201d\r\n\r\n7. Citrination: turning to a citrine colour, or yellow, by\r\nchemical action; that was the colour which proved the\r\nphilosopher\u2019s stone.\r\n\r\n8. Ingots: not, as in its modern meaning, the masses of metal\r\nshaped by pouring into moulds; but the moulds themslves into\r\nwhich the fused metal was poured. Compare Dutch,\r\n\u201cingieten,\u201d part. \u201cinghehoten,\u201d to infuse; German,\r\n\u201ceingiessen,\u201d part. \u201ceingegossen,\u201d to pour in.\r\n\r\n9. Threpe: name; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cthreapian.\u201d\r\n\r\n10. Bratt:  coarse cloak; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cbratt.\u201d The word is\r\nstill used in Lincolnshire, and some parts of the north, to\r\nsignify a coarse kind of apron.\r\n\r\n11. Long on: in consequence of; the modern vulgar phrase \u201call\r\nalong of,\u201d or \u201call along on,\u201d best conveys the force of the\r\nwords in the text.\r\n\r\n12. Annualere: a priest employed in singing \u201cannuals\u201d or\r\nanniversary masses for the dead, without any cure of souls;\r\nthe office was such as, in the Prologue to the Tales, Chaucer\r\npraises the Parson for not seeking: Nor \u201cran unto London,\r\nunto Saint Poul\u2019s, to seeke him a chantery for souls.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. Mortify:  a chemical phrase, signifying the dissolution of\r\nquicksilver in acid.\r\n\r\n14. Blin: cease; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cblinnan,\u201d to desist.\r\n\r\n15. Name: took; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cniman,\u201d to take.\r\nCompare German, \u201cnehmen,\u201d \u201cnahm.\u201d\r\n\r\n16. Los: praise, reputataion. See note 5 to Chaucer\u2019s tale of\r\nMelib\u0153us.\r\n\r\n17. Grame: sorrow; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cgram;\u201d German, \u201cGram.\u201d\r\n\r\n18. Arnaldus Villanovanus, or Arnold de Villeneuve, was a\r\ndistinguished French chemist and physician of the fourteenth\r\ncentury; his \u201cRosarium Philosophorum\u201d was a favourite text-book\r\nwith the alchemists of the generations that succeeded.\r\n\r\n19. Hermes Trismegistus, counsellor of Osiris, King of\r\nEgypt, was credited with the invention of writing and\r\nhieroglyphics, the drawing up of the laws of the Egyptians,\r\nand the origination of many sciences and arts. The\r\nAlexandrian school ascribed to him the mystic learning which\r\nit amplified; and the scholars of the Middle Ages regarded\r\nwith enthusiasm and reverence the works attributed to him \u2014\r\nnotably a treatise on the philosopher\u2019s stone.\r\n\r\n20. Secret of secrets: \u201cSecreta Secretorum;\u201d a treatise, very\r\npopular in the Middle Ages, supposed to contain the sum of\r\nAristotle\u2019s instructions to Alexander. Lydgate translated about\r\nhalf of the work, when his labour was interrupted by his death\r\nabout 1460; and from the same treatise had been taken most\r\nof the seventh book of Gower\u2019s \u201cConfessio Amantis.\u201d\r\n\r\n21. Tyrwhitt says that this book was printed in the \u201cTheatrum\r\nChemicum,\u201d under the title, \u201cSenioris Zadith fi. Hamuelis\r\ntabula chymica\u201d (\u201cThe chemical tables of Senior Zadith, son\r\nof Hamuel\u201d); and the story here told of Plato and his disciple\r\nwas there related of Solomon, but with some variations.\r\n\r\n22. Ignotum per ignotius: To explain the unknown by the\r\nmore unknown.\r\n\r\n23. Though he multiply term of his live: Though he pursue the\r\nalchemist\u2019s art all his days.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE MANCIPLE\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nWEET* ye not where there stands a little town,                     *know\r\nWhich that y-called is Bob-up-and-down, <1>\r\nUnder the Blee, in Canterbury way?\r\nThere gan our Hoste for to jape and play,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cSirs, what? Dun is in the mire.<2>\r\nIs there no man, for prayer nor for hire,\r\nThat will awaken our fellow behind?\r\nA thief him might full* rob and bind                             *easily\r\nSee how he nappeth, see, for cocke\u2019s bones,\r\nAs he would falle from his horse at ones.\r\nIs that a Cook of London, with mischance? <3>\r\nDo* him come forth, he knoweth his penance;                        *make\r\nFor he shall tell a tale, by my fay,*                             *faith\r\nAlthough it be not worth a bottle hay.\r\n\r\nAwake, thou Cook,\u201d quoth he; \u201cGod give thee sorrow\r\nWhat aileth thee to sleepe *by the morrow?*            *in the day time*\r\nHast thou had fleas all night, or art drunk?\r\nOr had thou with some quean* all night y-swunk,**      *whore **laboured\r\nSo that thou mayest not hold up thine head?\u201d\r\nThe Cook, that was full pale and nothing red,\r\nSaid to Host, \u201cSo God my soule bless,\r\nAs there is fall\u2019n on me such heaviness,\r\nI know not why, that me were lever* sleep,                       *rather\r\nThan the best gallon wine that is in Cheap.\u201d\r\n\u201cWell,\u201d quoth the Manciple, \u201cif it may do ease\r\nTo thee, Sir Cook, and to no wight displease\r\nWhich that here rideth in this company,\r\nAnd that our Host will of his courtesy,\r\nI will as now excuse thee of thy tale;\r\nFor in good faith thy visage is full pale:\r\nThine eyen daze,* soothly as me thinketh,                       *are dim\r\nAnd well I wot, thy breath full soure stinketh,\r\nThat sheweth well thou art not well disposed;\r\nOf me certain thou shalt not be y-glosed.*                    *flattered\r\nSee how he yawneth, lo, this drunken wight,\r\nAs though he would us swallow anon right.\r\nHold close thy mouth, man, by thy father\u2019s kin;\r\nThe devil of helle set his foot therein!\r\nThy cursed breath infecte will us all:\r\nFy! stinking swine, fy! foul may thee befall.\r\nAh! take heed, Sirs, of this lusty man.\r\nNow, sweete Sir, will ye joust at the fan?<4>\r\nThereto, me thinketh, ye be well y-shape.\r\nI trow that ye have drunken wine of ape,<5>\r\nAnd that is when men playe with a straw.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with this speech the Cook waxed all wraw,*                 *wrathful\r\nAnd on the Manciple he gan nod fast\r\nFor lack of speech; and down his horse him cast,\r\nWhere as he lay, till that men him up took.\r\nThis was a fair chevachie* of a cook:                *cavalry expedition\r\nAlas! that he had held him by his ladle!\r\nAnd ere that he again were in the saddle\r\nThere was great shoving bothe to and fro\r\nTo lift him up, and muche care and woe,\r\nSo unwieldy was this silly paled ghost.\r\nAnd to the Manciple then spake our Host:\r\n\u201cBecause that drink hath domination\r\nUpon this man, by my salvation\r\nI trow he lewedly* will tell his tale.                         *stupidly\r\nFor were it wine, or old or moisty* ale,                            *new\r\nThat he hath drunk, he speaketh in his nose,\r\nAnd sneezeth fast, and eke he hath the pose <6>\r\nHe also hath to do more than enough\r\nTo keep him on his capel* out of the slough;                      *horse\r\nAnd if he fall from off his capel eftsoon,*                       *again\r\nThen shall we alle have enough to do\u2019n\r\nIn lifting up his heavy drunken corse.\r\nTell on thy tale, of him *make I no force.*          *I take no account*\r\nBut yet, Manciple, in faith thou art too nice*                  *foolish\r\nThus openly to reprove him of his vice;\r\nAnother day he will paraventure\r\nReclaime thee, and bring thee to the lure; <7>\r\nI mean, he speake will of smalle things,\r\nAs for to *pinchen at* thy reckonings,                   *pick flaws in*\r\nThat were not honest, if it came to prefe.\u201d*                *test, proof\r\nQuoth the Manciple, \u201cThat were a great mischief;\r\nSo might he lightly bring me in the snare.\r\nYet had I lever* paye for the mare                               *rather\r\nWhich he rides on, than he should with me strive.\r\nI will not wrathe him, so may I thrive)\r\nThat that I spake, I said it in my bourde.*                        *jest\r\nAnd weet ye what? I have here in my gourd\r\nA draught of wine, yea, of a ripe grape,\r\nAnd right anon ye shall see a good jape.*                         *trick\r\nThis Cook shall drink thereof, if that I may;\r\nOn pain of my life he will not say nay.\u201d\r\nAnd certainly, to tellen as it was,\r\nOf this vessel the cook drank fast (alas!\r\nWhat needed it? he drank enough beforn),\r\nAnd when he hadde *pouped in his horn,*                        *belched*\r\nTo the Manciple he took the gourd again.\r\nAnd of that drink the Cook was wondrous fain,\r\nAnd thanked him in such wise as he could.\r\n\r\nThen gan our Host to laughe wondrous loud,\r\nAnd said, \u201cI see well it is necessary\r\nWhere that we go good drink with us to carry;\r\nFor that will turne rancour and disease*             *trouble, annoyance\r\nT\u2019accord and love, and many a wrong appease.\r\nO Bacchus, Bacchus, blessed be thy name,\r\nThat so canst turnen earnest into game!\r\nWorship and thank be to thy deity.\r\nOf that mattere ye get no more of me.\r\nTell on thy tale, Manciple, I thee pray.\u201d\r\n\u201cWell, Sir,\u201d quoth he, \u201cnow hearken what I say.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Manciple\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Bob-up-and-down: Mr Wright supposes this to be the village of\r\nHarbledown, near Canterbury, which  is situated on a hill, and near\r\nwhich there are many ups and downs in the road. Like Boughton,\r\nwhere the Canon and his Yeoman overtook the pilgrims, it stood on\r\nthe skirts of the Kentish forest of Blean or Blee.\r\n\r\n2. Dun is in the mire: a proverbial saying. \u201cDun\u201d is a name for an\r\nass, derived from his colour.\r\n\r\n3. The mention of the Cook here, with no hint that he had already\r\ntold a story, confirms the indication given by the imperfect\r\ncondition of his Tale, that Chaucer intended to suppress the Tale\r\naltogether, and make him tell a story in some other place.\r\n\r\n4. The quintain; called \u201cfan\u201d or \u201cvane,\u201d because it turned round like\r\na weather-cock.\r\n\r\n5. Referring to the classification of wine, according to its effects on\r\na man, given in the old \u201cCalendrier des Bergiers,\u201d The man of\r\ncholeric temperament has \u201cwine of lion;\u201d the sanguine, \u201cwine of\r\nape;\u201d the phlegmatic, \u201cwine of sheep;\u201d the melancholic, \u201cwine of\r\nsow.\u201d There is a Rabbinical tradition that, when Noah was planting\r\nvines, Satan slaughtered beside them the four animals named; hence\r\nthe effect of wine in making those who drink it display in turn the\r\ncharacteristics of all the four.\r\n\r\n6. The pose:  a defluxion or rheum which stops the nose and\r\nobstructs the voice.\r\n\r\n7. Bring thee to his lure: A phrase in hawking \u2014 to recall a hawk to\r\nthe fist; the meaning here is, that the Cook may one day bring the\r\nManciple to account, or pay him off, for the rebuke of his\r\ndrunkenness.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nWhen Phoebus dwelled here in earth adown,\r\nAs olde bookes make mentioun,\r\nHe was the moste lusty* bacheler                               *pleasant\r\nOf all this world, and eke* the best archer.                       *also\r\nHe slew Python the serpent, as he lay\r\nSleeping against the sun upon a day;\r\nAnd many another noble worthy deed\r\nHe with his bow wrought, as men maye read.\r\nPlayen he could on every minstrelsy,\r\nAnd singe, that it was a melody\r\nTo hearen of his cleare voice the soun\u2019.\r\nCertes the king of Thebes, Amphioun,\r\nThat with his singing walled the city,\r\nCould never singe half so well as he.\r\nThereto he was the seemlieste man\r\nThat is, or was since that the world began;\r\nWhat needeth it his features to descrive?\r\nFor in this world is none so fair alive.\r\nHe was therewith full fill\u2019d of gentleness,\r\nOf honour, and of perfect worthiness.\r\n\r\nThis Phoebus, that was flower of bach\u2019lery,\r\nAs well in freedom* as in chivalry,                          *generosity\r\nFor his disport, in sign eke of victory\r\nOf Python, so as telleth us the story,\r\nWas wont to bearen in his hand a bow.\r\nNow had this Phoebus in his house a crow,\r\nWhich in a cage he foster\u2019d many a day,\r\nAnd taught it speaken, as men teach a jay.\r\nWhite was this crow, as is a snow-white swan,\r\nAnd counterfeit the speech of every man\r\nHe coulde, when he shoulde tell a tale.\r\nTherewith in all this world no nightingale\r\nNe coulde by an hundred thousand deal*                             *part\r\nSinge so wondrous merrily and well.\r\nNow had this Phoebus in his house a wife;\r\nWhich that he loved more than his life.\r\nAnd night and day did ever his diligence\r\nHer for to please, and do her reverence:\r\nSave only, if that I the sooth shall sayn,\r\nJealous he was, and would have kept her fain.\r\nFor him were loth y-japed* for to be;                 *tricked, deceived\r\nAnd so is every wight in such degree;\r\nBut all for nought, for it availeth nought.\r\nA good wife, that is clean of work and thought,\r\nShould not be kept in none await* certain:                  *observation\r\nAnd truely the labour is in vain\r\nTo keep a shrewe,* for it will not be.               *ill-disposed woman\r\nThis hold I for a very nicety,*                             *sheer folly\r\nTo spille* labour for to keepe wives;                              *lose\r\n\r\nThus writen olde clerkes in their lives.\r\nBut now to purpose, as I first began.\r\nThis worthy Phoebus did all that he can\r\nTo please her, weening, through such pleasance,\r\nAnd for his manhood and his governance,\r\nThat no man should have put him from her grace;\r\nBut, God it wot, there may no man embrace\r\nAs to distrain* a thing, which that nature      *succeed in constraining\r\nHath naturally set in a creature.\r\nTake any bird, and put it in a cage,\r\nAnd do all thine intent, and thy corage,*        *what thy heart prompts\r\nTo foster it tenderly with meat and drink\r\nOf alle dainties that thou canst bethink,\r\nAnd keep it all so cleanly as thou may;\r\nAlthough the cage of gold be never so gay,\r\nYet had this bird, by twenty thousand fold,\r\nLever* in a forest, both wild and cold,                          *rather\r\nGo eate wormes, and such wretchedness.\r\nFor ever this bird will do his business\r\nT\u2019escape out of his cage when that he may:\r\nHis liberty the bird desireth aye. <2>\r\nLet take a cat, and foster her with milk\r\nAnd tender flesh, and make her couch of silk,\r\nAnd let her see a mouse go by the wall,\r\nAnon she weiveth* milk, and flesh, and all,                   *forsaketh\r\nAnd every dainty that is in that house,\r\nSuch appetite hath she to eat the mouse.\r\nLo, here hath kind* her domination,                              *nature\r\nAnd appetite flemeth* discretion.                            *drives out\r\nA she-wolf hath also a villain\u2019s kind\r\nThe lewedeste wolf that she may find,\r\nOr least of reputation, will she take\r\nIn time when *her lust* to have a make.*              *she desires *mate\r\nAll these examples speak I by* these men              *with reference to\r\nThat be untrue, and nothing by women.\r\nFor men have ever a lik\u2019rous appetite\r\nOn lower things to perform their delight\r\nThan on their wives, be they never so fair,\r\nNever so true, nor so debonair.*                           *gentle, mild\r\nFlesh is so newefangled, *with mischance,*              *ill luck to it*\r\nThat we can in no thinge have pleasance\r\nThat *souneth unto* virtue any while.                      *accords with\r\n\r\nThis Phoebus, which that thought upon no guile,\r\nDeceived was for all his jollity;\r\nFor under him another hadde she,\r\nA man of little reputation,\r\nNought worth to Phoebus in comparison.\r\nThe more harm is; it happens often so,\r\nOf which there cometh muche harm and woe.\r\nAnd so befell, when Phoebus was absent,\r\nHis wife anon hath for her leman* sent.                  *unlawful lover\r\nHer leman! certes that is a knavish speech.\r\nForgive it me, and that I you beseech.\r\nThe wise Plato saith, as ye may read,\r\nThe word must needs accorde with the deed;\r\nIf men shall telle properly a thing,\r\nThe word must cousin be to the working.\r\nI am a boistous* man, right thus I say.         *rough-spoken, downright\r\nThere is no difference truely\r\nBetwixt a wife that is of high degree\r\n(If of her body dishonest she be),\r\nAnd any poore wench, other than this\r\n(If it so be they worke both amiss),\r\nBut, for* the gentle is in estate above,                        *because\r\nShe shall be call\u2019d his lady and his love;\r\nAnd, for that other is a poor woman,\r\nShe shall be call\u2019d his wench and his leman:\r\nAnd God it wot, mine owen deare brother,\r\nMen lay the one as low as lies the other.\r\nRight so betwixt a *titleless tyrant*                          *usurper*\r\nAnd an outlaw, or else a thief errant,                        *wandering\r\nThe same I say, there is no difference\r\n(To Alexander told was this sentence),\r\nBut, for the tyrant is of greater might\r\nBy force of meinie* for to slay downright,                    *followers\r\nAnd burn both house and home, and make all plain,*                *level\r\nLo, therefore is he call\u2019d a capitain;\r\nAnd, for the outlaw hath but small meinie,\r\nAnd may not do so great an harm as he,\r\nNor bring a country to so great mischief,\r\nMen calle him an outlaw or a thief.\r\nBut, for I am a man not textuel,                       *learned in texts\r\nI will not tell of texts never a deal;*                            *whit\r\nI will go to my tale, as I began.\r\n\r\nWhen Phoebus\u2019 wife had sent for her leman,\r\nAnon they wroughten all their *lust volage.*    *light or rash pleasure*\r\nThis white crow, that hung aye in the cage,\r\nBeheld their work, and said never a word;\r\nAnd when that home was come Phoebus the lord,\r\nThis crowe sung, \u201cCuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat? bird,\u201d quoth Phoebus, \u201cwhat song sing\u2019st thou now?\r\nWert thou not wont so merrily to sing,\r\nThat to my heart it was a rejoicing\r\nTo hear thy voice? alas! what song is this?\u201d\r\n\u201cBy God,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI singe not amiss.\r\nPhoebus,\u201d quoth he, \u201cfor all thy worthiness,\r\nFor all thy beauty, and all thy gentleness,\r\nFor all thy song, and all thy minstrelsy,\r\n*For all thy waiting, bleared is thine eye*   *despite all thy watching,\r\nWith one of little reputation,                        thou art befooled*\r\nNot worth to thee, as in comparison,\r\nThe mountance* of a gnat, so may I thrive;                        *value\r\nFor on thy bed thy wife I saw him swive.\u201d\r\nWhat will ye more? the crow anon him told,\r\nBy sade* tokens, and by wordes bold,                 *grave, trustworthy\r\nHow that his wife had done her lechery,\r\nTo his great shame and his great villainy;\r\nAnd told him oft, he saw it with his eyen.\r\nThis Phoebus gan awayward for to wrien;*                     *turn aside\r\nHim thought his woeful hearte burst in two.\r\nHis bow he bent, and set therein a flo,*                          *arrow\r\nAnd in his ire he hath his wife slain;\r\nThis is th\u2019 effect, there is no more to sayn.\r\nFor sorrow of which he brake his minstrelsy,\r\nBoth harp and lute, gitern* and psaltery;                        *guitar\r\nAnd eke he brake his arrows and his bow;\r\nAnd after that thus spake he to the crow.\r\n\r\n\u201cTraitor,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwith tongue of scorpion,\r\nThou hast me brought to my confusion;\r\nAlas that I was wrought!* why n\u2019ere** I dead?            *made **was not\r\nO deare wife, O gem of lustihead,*                         *pleasantness\r\nThat wert to me so sad,* and eke so true,                     *steadfast\r\nNow liest thou dead, with face pale of hue,\r\nFull guilteless, that durst I swear y-wis!*                   *certainly\r\nO rakel* hand, to do so foul amiss                          *rash, hasty\r\nO troubled wit, O ire reckeless,\r\nThat unadvised smit\u2019st the guilteless!\r\nO wantrust,* full of false suspicion!                      *distrust <3>\r\nWhere was thy wit and thy discretion?\r\nO! every man beware of rakelness,*                             *rashness\r\nNor trow* no thing withoute strong witness.                     *believe\r\nSmite not too soon, ere that ye weete* why,                        *know\r\nAnd *be advised* well and sickerly**                  *consider* *surely\r\nEre ye *do any execution                                *take any action\r\nUpon your ire* for suspicion.                           upon your anger*\r\nAlas! a thousand folk hath rakel ire\r\nFoully fordone, and brought them in the mire.\r\nAlas! for sorrow I will myself slee*                               *slay\r\nAnd to the crow, \u201cO false thief,\u201d said he,\r\n\u201cI will thee quite anon thy false tale.\r\nThou sung whilom* like any nightingale,                  *once on a time\r\nNow shalt thou, false thief, thy song foregon,*                    *lose\r\nAnd eke thy white feathers every one,\r\nNor ever in all thy life shalt thou speak;\r\nThus shall men on a traitor be awreak.                         *revenged\r\nThou and thine offspring ever shall be blake,*                    *black\r\nNor ever sweete noise shall ye make,\r\nBut ever cry against* tempest and rain,           *before, in warning of\r\nIn token that through thee my wife is slain.\u201d\r\nAnd to the crow he start,* and that anon,                        *sprang\r\nAnd pull\u2019d his white feathers every one,\r\nAnd made him black, and reft him all his song,\r\nAnd eke his speech, and out at door him flung\r\nUnto the devil, *which I him betake;*            *to whom I commend him*\r\nAnd for this cause be all crowes blake.\r\nLordings, by this ensample, I you pray,\r\nBeware, and take keep* what that ye say;                           *heed\r\nNor telle never man in all your life\r\nHow that another man hath dight his wife;\r\nHe will you hate mortally certain.\r\nDan Solomon, as wise clerkes sayn,\r\nTeacheth a man to keep his tongue well;\r\nBut, as I said, I am not textuel.\r\nBut natheless thus taughte me my dame;\r\n\u201cMy son, think on the crow, in Godde\u2019s name.\r\nMy son, keep well thy tongue, and keep thy friend;\r\nA wicked tongue is worse than is a fiend:\r\nMy sone, from a fiend men may them bless.*           *defend by crossing\r\nMy son, God of his endeless goodness                          themselves\r\nWalled a tongue with teeth, and lippes eke,\r\nFor* man should him advise,** what he speak.         *because **consider\r\nMy son, full often for too muche speech\r\nHath many a man been spilt,* as clerkes teach;                *destroyed\r\nBut for a little speech advisedly\r\nIs no man shent,* to speak generally.                            *ruined\r\nMy son, thy tongue shouldest thou restrain\r\nAt alle time, *but when thou dost thy pain*          *except when you do\r\nTo speak of God in honour and prayere.                 your best effort*\r\nThe firste virtue, son, if thou wilt lear,*                       *learn\r\nIs to restrain and keepe well thy tongue;<4>\r\nThus learne children, when that they be young.\r\nMy son, of muche speaking evil advis\u2019d,\r\nWhere lesse speaking had enough suffic\u2019d,\r\nCometh much harm; thus was me told and taught;\r\nIn muche speeche sinne wanteth not.\r\nWost* thou whereof a rakel** tongue serveth?            *knowest **hasty\r\nRight as a sword forcutteth and forcarveth\r\nAn arm in two, my deare son, right so\r\nA tongue cutteth friendship all in two.\r\nA jangler* is  to God abominable.                           *prating man\r\nRead Solomon, so wise and honourable;\r\nRead David in his Psalms, and read Senec\u2019.\r\nMy son, speak not, but with thine head thou beck,*          *beckon, nod\r\nDissimule as thou wert deaf, if that thou hear\r\nA jangler speak of perilous mattere.\r\nThe Fleming saith, and learn *if that thee lest,*   **if it please thee*\r\nThat little jangling causeth muche rest.\r\nMy son, if thou no wicked word hast said,\r\n*Thee thar not dreade for to be bewray\u2019d;*         *thou hast no need to\r\nBut he that hath missaid, I dare well sayn,         fear to be betrayed*\r\nHe may by no way call his word again.\r\nThing that is said is said, and forth it go\u2019th, <5>\r\nThough him repent, or be he ne\u2019er so loth;\r\nHe is his thrall,* to whom that he hath said                      *slave\r\nA tale, *of which he is now evil apaid.*          *which he now regrets*\r\nMy son, beware, and be no author new\r\nOf tidings, whether they be false or true; <6>\r\nWhereso thou come, amonges high or low,\r\nKeep well thy tongue, and think upon the crow.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Manciple\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. \u201cThe fable of \u2018The Crow,\u2019 says Tyrwhitt, \u201cwhich is the\r\nsubject of the Manciple\u2019s Tale, has been related by so many\r\nauthors, from Ovid down to Gower, that it is impossible to\r\nsay whom Chaucer principally followed. His skill in new\r\ndressing an old story was never, perhaps, more successfully\r\nexerted.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. See the parallel to this passage in the Squire\u2019s Tale, and\r\nnote 34 to that tale.\r\n\r\n3. Wantrust: distrust \u2014 want of trust; so \u201cwanhope,\u201d despair -\r\n- want of hope.\r\n\r\n4. This is quoted in the French \u201cRomance of the Rose,\u201d from\r\nCato \u201cDe Moribus,\u201d 1. i., dist. 3: \u201cVirtutem primam esse puta\r\ncompescere linguam.\u201d (\u201cThe first virtue is to be able to\r\ncontrol the tongue\u201d)\r\n\r\n5. \u201cSemel emissum volat irrevocabile verbum.\u201d (\u201cA word once\r\nuttered flies away and cannot be called back\u201d)   \u2014 Horace,\r\nEpist. 1., 18, 71.\r\n\r\n6. This caution is also from Cato \u201cDe Moribus,\u201d 1. i., dist.\r\n12: \u201cRumoris fuge ne incipias novus auctor haberi.\u201d (\u201cDo not\r\npass on rumours or be the author of new ones\u201d)\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PARSON\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nBy that the Manciple his tale had ended,\r\nThe sunne from the south line was descended\r\nSo lowe, that it was not to my sight\r\nDegrees nine-and-twenty as in height.\r\nFour of the clock it was then, as I guess,\r\nFor eleven foot, a little more or less,\r\nMy shadow was at thilke time, as there,\r\nOf such feet as my lengthe parted were\r\nIn six feet equal of proportion.\r\nTherewith the moone\u2019s exaltation,*                               *rising\r\n*In meane* Libra, gan alway ascend,                   *in the middle of*\r\nAs we were ent\u2019ring at a thorpe\u2019s* end.                       *village\u2019s\r\nFor which our Host, as he was wont to gie,*                      *govern\r\nAs in this case, our jolly company,\r\nSaid in this wise; \u201cLordings every one,\r\nNow lacketh us no more tales than one.\r\nFulfill\u2019d is my sentence and my decree;\r\nI trow that we have heard of each degree.*       from each class or rank\r\nAlmost fulfilled is mine ordinance;                       in the company\r\nI pray to God so give him right good chance\r\nThat telleth us this tale lustily.\r\nSir Priest,\u201d quoth he, \u201cart thou a vicary?*                       *vicar\r\nOr art thou a Parson? say sooth by thy fay.*                      *faith\r\nBe what thou be, breake thou not our play;\r\nFor every man, save thou, hath told his tale.\r\nUnbuckle, and shew us what is in thy mail.*                      *wallet\r\nFor truely me thinketh by thy cheer\r\nThou shouldest knit up well a great mattere.\r\nTell us a fable anon, for cocke\u2019s bones.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis Parson him answered all at ones;\r\n\u201cThou gettest fable none y-told for me,\r\nFor Paul, that writeth unto Timothy,\r\nReproveth them that *weive soothfastness,*               *forsake truth*\r\nAnd telle fables, and such wretchedness.\r\nWhy should I sowe draff* out of my fist,                  *chaff, refuse\r\nWhen I may sowe wheat, if that me list?\r\nFor which I say, if that you list to hear\r\nMorality and virtuous mattere,\r\nAnd then that ye will give me audience,\r\nI would full fain at Christe\u2019s reverence\r\nDo you pleasance lawful, as I can.\r\nBut, truste well, I am a southern man,\r\nI cannot gest,* rom, ram, ruf, <1> by my letter;         *relate stories\r\nAnd, God wot, rhyme hold I but little better.\r\nAnd therefore if you list, I will not glose,*             *mince matters\r\nI will you tell a little tale in prose,\r\nTo knit up all this feast, and make an end.\r\nAnd Jesus for his grace wit me send\r\nTo shewe you the way, in this voyage,\r\nOf thilke perfect glorious pilgrimage, <2>\r\nThat hight Jerusalem celestial.\r\nAnd if ye vouchesafe, anon I shall\r\nBegin upon my tale, for which I pray\r\nTell your advice,* I can no better say.                         *opinion\r\nBut natheless this meditation\r\nI put it aye under correction\r\nOf clerkes,* for I am not textuel;                             *scholars\r\nI take but the sentence,* trust me well.                 *meaning, sense\r\nTherefore I make a protestation,\r\nThat I will stande to correction.\u201d\r\nUpon this word we have assented soon;\r\nFor, as us seemed, it was *for to do\u2019n,*           *a thing worth doing*\r\nTo enden in some virtuous sentence,*                          *discourse\r\nAnd for to give him space and audience;\r\nAnd bade our Host he shoulde to him say\r\nThat alle we to tell his tale him pray.\r\nOur Hoste had. the wordes for us all:\r\n\u201cSir Priest,\u201d quoth he, \u201cnow faire you befall;\r\nSay what you list, and we shall gladly hear.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word he said in this mannere;\r\n\u201cTelle,\u201d quoth he, \u201cyour meditatioun,\r\nBut hasten you, the sunne will adown.\r\nBe fructuous,* and that in little space;           *fruitful; profitable\r\nAnd to do well God sende you his grace.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Parson\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Rom, ram, ruf: a contemptuous reference to the alliterative\r\npoetry which was at that time very popular, in preference even,\r\nit would seem, to rhyme, in the northern parts of the country,\r\nwhere the language was much more barbarous and unpolished\r\nthan in the south.\r\n\r\n2. Perfect glorious pilgrimage:  the word is used here to signify\r\nthe shrine, or destination, to which pilgrimage is made.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\n[The Parson begins his \u201clittle treatise\u201d -(which, if given at\r\nlength, would extend to about thirty of these pages, and which\r\ncannot by any stretch of courtesy or fancy be said to merit the\r\ntitle of a \u201cTale\u201d) in these words: \u2014]\r\n\r\nOur sweet Lord God of Heaven, that no man will perish, but\r\nwill that we come all to the knowledge of him, and to the\r\nblissful life that is perdurable [everlasting], admonishes us by\r\nthe prophet Jeremiah, that saith in this wise: \u201cStand upon the\r\nways, and see and ask of old paths, that is to say, of old\r\nsentences, which is the good way, and walk in that way, and ye\r\nshall find refreshing for your souls,\u201d <2> &c.  Many be the\r\nspiritual ways that lead folk to our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the\r\nreign of glory; of which ways there is a full noble way, and full\r\nconvenable, which may not fail to man nor to woman, that\r\nthrough sin hath misgone from the right way of Jerusalem\r\ncelestial; and this way is called penitence. Of which men should\r\ngladly hearken and inquire with all their hearts, to wit what is\r\npenitence, and whence it is called penitence, and in what\r\nmanner, and in how many manners, be the actions or workings\r\nof penitence, and how many species there be of penitences, and\r\nwhat things appertain and behove to penitence, and what things\r\ndisturb penitence.\r\n\r\n[Penitence is described, on the authority of Saints Ambrose,\r\nIsidore, and Gregory, as the bewailing of sin that has been\r\nwrought, with the purpose never again to do that thing, or any\r\nother thing which a man should bewail; for weeping and not\r\nceasing to do the sin will not avail \u2014 though it is to be hoped\r\nthat after every time that a man falls, be it ever so often, he may\r\nfind grace to arise through penitence. And repentant folk that\r\nleave their sin ere sin leave them, are accounted by Holy Church\r\nsure of their salvation, even though the repentance be at the last\r\nhour. There are three actions of penitence; that a man be\r\nbaptized after he has sinned; that he do no deadly sin after\r\nreceiving baptism; and that he fall into no venial sins from day\r\nto day. \u201cThereof saith St Augustine, that penitence of good and\r\nhumble folk is the penitence of every day.\u201d The species of\r\npenitence are three: solemn, when a man is openly expelled\r\nfrom Holy Church in Lent, or is compelled by Holy Church to\r\ndo open penance for an open sin openly talked of in the\r\ncountry; common penance, enjoined by priests in certain cases,\r\nas to go on pilgrimage naked or barefoot; and privy penance,\r\nwhich men do daily for private sins, of which they confess\r\nprivately and receive private penance. To very perfect penitence\r\nare behoveful and necessary three things: contrition of heart,\r\nconfession of mouth, and satisfaction; which are fruitful\r\npenitence against delight in thinking, reckless speech, and\r\nwicked sinful works.\r\n\r\nPenitence may be likened to a tree, having its root in contrition,\r\nbiding itself in the heart as a tree-root does in the earth; out of\r\nthis root springs a stalk, that bears branches and leaves of\r\nconfession, and fruit of satisfaction. Of this root also springs a\r\nseed of grace, which is mother of all security, and this seed is\r\neager and hot; and the grace of this seed springs of God,\r\nthrough remembrance on the day of judgment and on the pains\r\nof hell. The heat of this seed is the love of God, and the desire\r\nof everlasting joy; and this heat draws the heart of man to God,\r\nand makes him hate his sin. Penance is the tree of life to them\r\nthat receive it. In penance or contrition man shall understand\r\nfour things: what is contrition; what are the causes that move a\r\nman to contrition; how he should be contrite; and what\r\ncontrition availeth to the soul. Contrition is the heavy and\r\ngrievous sorrow that a man receiveth in his heart for his sins,\r\nwith earnest purpose to confess and do penance, and never\r\nmore to sin. Six causes ought to move a man to contrition: 1.\r\nHe should remember him of his sins; 2. He should reflect that\r\nsin putteth a man in great thraldom, and all the greater the\r\nhigher is the estate from which he falls; 3. He should dread the\r\nday of doom and the horrible pains of hell; 4. The sorrowful\r\nremembrance of the good deeds that  man hath omitted to do\r\nhere on earth, and also the good that he hath lost, ought to\r\nmake him have contrition; 5. So also ought the remembrance of\r\nthe passion that our Lord Jesus Christ suffered for our sins; 6.\r\nAnd so ought the hope of three things, that is to say,\r\nforgiveness of sin, the gift of grace to do well, and the glory of\r\nheaven with which God shall reward man for his good deeds. \u2014\r\nAll these points the Parson illustrates and enforces at length;\r\nwaxing especially eloquent under the third head, and plainly\r\nsetting forth the sternly realistic notions regarding future\r\npunishments that were entertained in the time of Chaucer:-] <3>\r\n\r\nCertes, all the sorrow that a man might make from the\r\nbeginning of the world, is but a little thing, at retard of [in\r\ncomparison with] the sorrow of hell. The cause why that Job\r\ncalleth hell the land of darkness; <4> understand, that he calleth\r\nit land or earth, for it is stable and never shall fail, and dark, for\r\nhe that is in hell hath default [is devoid] of light natural; for\r\ncertes the dark light, that shall come out of the fire that ever\r\nshall burn, shall turn them all to pain that be in hell, for it\r\nsheweth them the horrible devils that them torment. Covered\r\nwith the darkness of death; that is to say, that he that is in hell\r\nshall have default of the sight of God; for certes the sight of\r\nGod is the life perdurable [everlasting]. The darkness of death,\r\nbe the sins that the wretched man hath done, which that disturb\r\n[prevent] him to see the face of God, right as a dark cloud doth\r\nbetween us and the sun. Land of misease, because there be three\r\nmanner of defaults against three things that folk of this world\r\nhave in this present life; that is to say, honours, delights, and\r\nriches. Against honour have they in hell shame and confusion:\r\nfor well ye wot, that men call honour the reverence that man\r\ndoth to man; but in hell is no honour nor reverence; for certes\r\nno more reverence shall be done there to a king than to a knave\r\n[servant]. For which God saith by the prophet Jeremiah; \u201cThe\r\nfolk that me despise shall be in despite.\u201d Honour is also called\r\ngreat lordship. There shall no wight serve other, but of harm\r\nand torment. Honour is also called great dignity and highness;\r\nbut in hell shall they be all fortrodden [trampled under foot] of\r\ndevils. As God saith, \u201cThe horrible devils shall go and come\r\nupon the heads of damned folk;\u201d and this is, forasmuch as the\r\nhigher that they were in this present life, the more shall they be\r\nabated [abased] and defouled in hell. Against the riches of this\r\nworld shall they have misease [trouble, torment] of poverty, and\r\nthis poverty shall be in four things: in default [want] of treasure;\r\nof which David saith, \u201cThe rich folk that embraced and oned\r\n[united] all their heart to treasure of this world, shall sleep in the\r\nsleeping of death, and nothing shall they find in their hands of\r\nall their treasure.\u201d And moreover, the misease of hell shall be in\r\ndefault of meat and drink. For God saith thus by Moses, \u201cThey\r\nshall be wasted with hunger, and the birds of hell shall devour\r\nthem with bitter death, and the gall of the dragon shall be their\r\ndrink, and the venom of the dragon their morsels.\u201d And\r\nfurthermore, their misease shall be in default of clothing, for\r\nthey shall be naked in body, as of clothing, save the fire in\r\nwhich they burn, and other filths; and naked shall they be in\r\nsoul, of all manner virtues, which that is the clothing of the soul.\r\nWhere be then the gay robes, and the soft sheets, and the fine\r\nshirts? Lo, what saith of them the prophet Isaiah, that under\r\nthem shall be strewed moths, and their covertures shall be of\r\nworms of hell. And furthermore, their misease shall be in default\r\nof friends, for he is not poor that hath good friends: but there is\r\nno friend; for neither God nor any good creature shall be friend\r\nto them, and evereach of them shall hate other with deadly hate.\r\nThe Sons and the daughters shall rebel against father and\r\nmother, and kindred against kindred, and chide and despise each\r\nother, both day and night, as God saith by the prophet Micah.\r\nAnd the loving children, that whom loved so fleshly each other,\r\nwould each of them eat the other if they might. For how should\r\nthey love together in the pains of hell, when they hated each\r\nother in the prosperity of this life? For trust well, their fleshly\r\nlove was deadly hate; as saith the prophet David; \u201cWhoso\r\nloveth wickedness, he hateth his own soul:\u201d and whoso hateth\r\nhis own soul, certes he may love none other wight in no\r\nmanner: and therefore in hell is no solace nor no friendship, but\r\never the more kindreds that be in hell, the more cursing, the\r\nmore chiding, and the more deadly hate there is among them.\r\nAnd furtherover, they shall have default of all manner delights;\r\nfor certes delights be after the appetites of the five wits\r\n[senses]; as sight, hearing, smelling, savouring [tasting], and\r\ntouching. But in hell their sight shall be full of darkness and of\r\nsmoke, and their eyes full of tears; and their hearing full of\r\nwaimenting [lamenting] and grinting [gnashing] of teeth, as\r\nsaith Jesus Christ; their nostrils shall be full of stinking; and, as\r\nsaith Isaiah the prophet, their savouring  [tasting] shall be full of\r\nbitter gall; and touching of all their body shall be covered with\r\nfire that never shall quench, and with worms that never shall\r\ndie, as God saith by the mouth of Isaiah. And forasmuch as they\r\nshall not ween that they may die for pain, and by death flee from\r\npain, that may they understand in the word of Job, that saith,\r\n\u201cThere is the shadow of death.\u201d Certes a shadow hath the\r\nlikeness of the thing of which it is shadowed, but the shadow is\r\nnot the same thing of which it is shadowed: right so fareth the\r\npain of hell; it is like death, for the horrible anguish; and why?\r\nfor it paineth them ever as though they should die anon; but\r\ncertes they shall not die. For, as saith Saint Gregory, \u201cTo\r\nwretched caitiffs shall be given death without death, and end\r\nwithout end, and default without failing; for their death shall\r\nalways live, and their end shall evermore begin, and their default\r\nshall never fail.\u201d And therefore saith Saint John the Evangelist,\r\n\u201cThey shall follow death, and they shall not find him, and they\r\nshall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.\u201d And eke Job\r\nsaith, that in hell is no order of rule. And albeit that God hath\r\ncreated all things in right order, and nothing without order, but\r\nall things be ordered and numbered, yet nevertheless they that\r\nbe damned be not in order, nor hold no order. For the earth\r\nshall bear them no fruit (for, as the prophet David saith, \u201cGod\r\nshall destroy the fruit of the earth, as for them\u201d); nor water shall\r\ngive them no moisture, nor the air no refreshing, nor the fire no\r\nlight. For as saith Saint Basil, \u201cThe burning of  the fire of this\r\nworld shall God give in hell to them that be damned, but the\r\nlight and the clearness shall be given in heaven to his children;\r\nright as the good man giveth flesh to his children, and bones to\r\nhis hounds.\u201d And for they shall have no hope to escape, saith\r\nJob at last, that there shall horror and grisly dread dwell without\r\nend. Horror is always dread of harm that is to come, and this\r\ndread shall ever dwell in the hearts of them that be damned.\r\nAnd therefore have they lost all their hope for seven causes.\r\nFirst, for God that is their judge shall be without mercy to them;\r\nnor they may not please him; nor none of his hallows [saints];\r\nnor they may give nothing for their ransom; nor they have no\r\nvoice to speak to him; nor they may not flee from pain; nor they\r\nhave no goodness in them that they may shew to deliver them\r\nfrom pain.\r\n\r\n[Under the fourth head, of good works, the Parson says: \u2014]\r\n\r\nThe courteous Lord Jesus Christ will that no good work be lost,\r\nfor in somewhat it shall avail. But forasmuch as the good works\r\nthat men do while they be in good life be all amortised [killed,\r\ndeadened] by sin following, and also since all the good works\r\nthat men do while they be in deadly sin be utterly dead, as for to\r\nhave the life perdurable [everlasting], well may that man that no\r\ngood works doth, sing that new French song, J\u2019ai tout perdu \u2014\r\nmon temps et mon labour <5>. For certes, sin bereaveth a man\r\nboth the goodness of nature, and eke the goodness of grace.\r\nFor soothly the grace of the Holy Ghost fareth like fire, that\r\nmay not be idle; for fire faileth anon as it forleteth [leaveth] its\r\nworking, and right so grace faileth anon as it forleteth its\r\nworking. Then loseth the sinful man the goodness of glory, that\r\nonly is to good men that labour and work. Well may he be sorry\r\nthen, that oweth all his life to God, as long as he hath lived, and\r\nalso as long as he shall live, that no goodness hath to pay with\r\nhis debt to God, to whom he oweth all his life: for trust well he\r\nshall give account, as saith Saint Bernard, of all the goods that\r\nhave been given him in his present life, and how he hath them\r\ndispended, insomuch that there shall not perish an hair of his\r\nhead, nor a moment of an hour shall not perish of his time, that\r\nhe shall not give thereof a reckoning.\r\n\r\n[Having treated of the causes, the Parson comes to the manner,\r\nof contrition \u2014 which should be universal and total, not merely\r\nof outward deeds of sin, but also of wicked delights and\r\nthoughts and words; \u201cfor certes Almighty God is all good, and\r\ntherefore either he forgiveth all, or else right naught.\u201d Further,\r\ncontrition should be \u201cwonder sorrowful and anguishous,\u201d and\r\nalso continual, with steadfast purpose of confession and\r\namendment. Lastly, of what contrition availeth, the Parson says,\r\nthat sometimes it delivereth man from sin; that without it neither\r\nconfession nor satisfaction is of any worth; that it \u201cdestroyeth\r\nthe prison of hell, and maketh weak and feeble all the strengths\r\nof the devils, and restoreth the gifts of the Holy Ghost and of all\r\ngood virtues, and cleanseth the soul of sin, and delivereth it\r\nfrom the pain of hell, and from the company of the devil, and\r\nfrom the servage [slavery] of sin, and restoreth it to all goods\r\nspiritual, and to the company and communion of Holy Church.\u201d\r\nHe who should set his intent to these things, would no longer be\r\ninclined to sin, but would give his heart and body to the service\r\nof Jesus Christ, and thereof do him homage. \u201cFor, certes, our\r\nLord Jesus Christ hath spared us so benignly in our follies, that\r\nif he had not pity on man\u2019s soul, a sorry song might we all sing.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe Second Part of the Parson\u2019s Tale or Treatise opens with an\r\nexplanation of what is confession \u2014 which is termed \u201cthe\r\nsecond part of penitence, that is, sign of contrition;\u201d whether it\r\nought needs be done or not; and what things be convenable to\r\ntrue confession. Confession is true shewing of sins to the priest,\r\nwithout excusing, hiding, or forwrapping [disguising] of\r\nanything, and without vaunting of good works. \u201cAlso, it is\r\nnecessary to understand whence that sins spring, and how they\r\nincrease, and which they be.\u201d From Adam we took original sin;\r\n\u201cfrom him fleshly descended be we all, and engendered of vile\r\nand corrupt matter;\u201d and the penalty of Adam\u2019s transgression\r\ndwelleth with us as to temptation, which penalty is called\r\nconcupiscence. \u201cThis concupiscence, when it is wrongfully\r\ndisposed or ordained in a man, it maketh him covet, by covetise\r\nof flesh, fleshly sin by sight of his eyes, as to earthly things, and\r\nalso covetise of highness by pride of heart.\u201d The Parson\r\nproceeds to shew how man is tempted in his flesh to sin; how,\r\nafter his natural concupiscence, comes suggestion of the devil,\r\nthat is to say the devil\u2019s bellows, with which he bloweth in man\r\nthe fire of con cupiscence; and how man then bethinketh him\r\nwhether he will do or no the thing to which he is tempted. If he\r\nflame up into pleasure at the thought, and give way, then is he\r\nall dead in soul; \u201cand thus is sin accomplished, by temptation, by\r\ndelight, and by consenting; and then is the sin actual.\u201d Sin is\r\neither venial, or deadly; deadly, when a man loves any creature\r\nmore than Jesus Christ our Creator, venial, if he love Jesus\r\nChrist less than he ought. Venial sins diminish man\u2019s love to\r\nGod more and more, and may in this wise skip into deadly sin;\r\nfor many small make a great. \u201cAnd hearken this example: A\r\ngreat wave of the sea cometh sometimes with so great a\r\nviolence, that it drencheth [causes to sink] the ship: and the\r\nsame harm do sometimes the small drops, of water that enter\r\nthrough a little crevice in the thurrok [hold, bilge], and in the\r\nbottom of the ship, if men be so negligent that they discharge\r\nthem not betimes. And therefore, although there be difference\r\nbetwixt these two causes of drenching, algates [in any case] the\r\nship is dreint [sunk]. Right so fareth it sometimes of deadly sin,\u201d\r\nand of venial sins when they multiply in a man so greatly as to\r\nmake him love worldly things more than God. The Parson then\r\nenumerates specially a number of sins which many a man\r\nperadventure deems no sins, and confesses them not, and yet\r\nnevertheless they are truly sins: \u2014 ]\r\n\r\nThis is to say, at every time that a man eateth and drinketh more\r\nthan sufficeth to the sustenance of his body, in certain he doth\r\nsin; eke when he speaketh more than it needeth, he doth sin; eke\r\nwhen he heareth not benignly the complaint of the poor; eke\r\nwhen he is in health of body, and will not fast when other folk\r\nfast, without cause reasonable; eke when he sleepeth more than\r\nneedeth, or when he cometh by that occasion too late to church,\r\nor to other works of charity; eke when he useth his wife without\r\nsovereign desire of engendrure, to the honour of God, or for the\r\nintent to yield his wife his debt of his body; eke when he will not\r\nvisit the sick, or the prisoner, if he may; eke if he love wife, or\r\nchild, or other worldly thing, more than reason requireth; eke if\r\nhe flatter or blandish more than he ought for any necessity; eke\r\nif he minish or withdraw the alms of the poor; eke if he apparail\r\n[prepare] his meat more deliciously than need is, or eat it too\r\nhastily by likerousness [gluttony];  eke if he talk vanities in the\r\nchurch, or at God\u2019s service, or that he be a talker of idle words\r\nof folly or villainy, for he shall yield account of them at the day\r\nof doom; eke when he behighteth [promiseth] or assureth to do\r\nthings that he may not perform; eke when that by lightness of\r\nfolly he missayeth or scorneth his neighbour; eke when he hath\r\nany wicked suspicion of thing, that he wot of it no\r\nsoothfastness: these things, and more without number, be sins,\r\nas saith Saint Augustine.\r\n\r\n[No earthly man may eschew all venial sins; yet may he refrain\r\nhim, by the burning love that he hath to our Lord Jesus Christ,\r\nand by prayer and confession, and other good works, so that it\r\nshall but little grieve. \u201cFurthermore, men may also refrain and\r\nput away venial sin, by receiving worthily the precious body of\r\nJesus Christ; by receiving eke of holy water; by alms-deed; by\r\ngeneral confession of Confiteor at mass, and at prime, and at\r\ncompline [evening service]; and by blessing of bishops and\r\npriests, and by other good works.\u201d The Parson then proceeds to\r\nweightier matters:\u2014 ]\r\n\r\nNow it is behovely [profitable, necessary] to tell which be\r\ndeadly sins, that is to say, chieftains of sins; forasmuch as all\r\nthey run in one leash, but in diverse manners. Now be they\r\ncalled chieftains, forasmuch as they be chief, and of them spring\r\nall other sins. The root of these sins, then, is pride, the general\r\nroot of all harms. For of this root spring certain branches: as ire,\r\nenvy, accidie <6> or sloth, avarice or covetousness (to common\r\nunderstanding), gluttony, and lechery: and each of these sins\r\nhath his branches and his twigs, as shall be declared in their\r\nchapters following. And though so be, that no man can tell\r\nutterly the number of the twigs, and of the harms that come of\r\npride, yet will I shew a part of them, as ye shall understand.\r\nThere is inobedience, vaunting, hypocrisy, despite, arrogance,\r\nimpudence, swelling of hearte, insolence, elation, impatience,\r\nstrife, contumacy, presumption, irreverence, pertinacity, vain-\r\nglory and many another twig that I cannot tell nor declare. . . .]\r\n\r\nAnd yet [moreover] there is a privy species of pride that waiteth\r\nfirst to be saluted ere he will salute, all [although] be he less\r\nworthy than that other is; and eke he waiteth [expecteth] or\r\ndesireth to sit or to go above him in the way, or kiss the pax,\r\n<7> or be incensed, or go to offering before his neighbour, and\r\nsuch semblable [like] things, against his duty peradventure, but\r\nthat he hath his heart and his intent in such a proud desire to be\r\nmagnified and honoured before the people. Now be there two\r\nmanner of prides; the one of them is within the heart of a man,\r\nand the other is without. Of which soothly these foresaid things,\r\nand more than I have said, appertain to pride that is within the\r\nheart of a man and there be other species of pride that be\r\nwithout: but nevertheless, the one of these species of pride is\r\nsign of the other, right as the gay levesell [bush] at the tavern is\r\nsign of the wine that is in the cellar. And this is in many things:\r\nas in speech and countenance, and outrageous array of clothing;\r\nfor certes, if there had been no sin in clothing, Christ would not\r\nso soon have noted and spoken of the clothing of that rich man\r\nin the gospel. And Saint Gregory saith, that precious clothing is\r\nculpable for the dearth [dearness] of it, and for its softness, and\r\nfor its strangeness and disguising, and for the superfluity or for\r\nthe inordinate scantness of it; alas! may not a man see in our\r\ndays the sinful costly array of clothing, and namely [specially] in\r\ntoo much superfluity, or else in too disordinate scantness? As to\r\nthe first sin, in superfluity of clothing, which that maketh it so\r\ndear, to the harm of the people, not only the cost of the\r\nembroidering, the disguising, indenting or barring, ounding,\r\npaling, <8> winding, or banding, and semblable [similar] waste\r\nof cloth in vanity; but there is also the costly furring [lining or\r\nedging with fur] in their gowns, so much punching of chisels to\r\nmake holes, so much dagging [cutting] of shears, with the\r\nsuperfluity in length of the foresaid gowns, trailing in the dung\r\nand in the mire, on horse and eke on foot, as well of man as of\r\nwoman, that all that trailing is verily (as in effect) wasted,\r\nconsumed, threadbare, and rotten with dung, rather than it is\r\ngiven to the poor, to great damage of the foresaid poor folk,\r\nand that in sundry wise: this is to say, the more that cloth is\r\nwasted, the more must it cost to the poor people for the\r\nscarceness; and furthermore, if so be that they would give such\r\npunched and dagged clothing to the poor people, it is not\r\nconvenient to wear for their estate, nor sufficient to boot [help,\r\nremedy] their necessity, to keep them from the distemperance\r\n[inclemency] of the firmament. Upon the other side, to speak of\r\nthe horrible disordinate scantness of clothing, as be these cutted\r\nslops or hanselines [breeches] , that through their shortness\r\ncover not the shameful member of man, to wicked intent alas!\r\nsome of them shew the boss and the shape of the horrible\r\nswollen members, that seem like to the malady of hernia, in the\r\nwrapping of their hosen, and eke the buttocks of them, that fare\r\nas it were the hinder part of a she-ape in the full of the moon.\r\nAnd more over the wretched swollen members that they shew\r\nthrough disguising, in departing [dividing] of their hosen in\r\nwhite and red, seemeth that half their shameful privy members\r\nwere flain [flayed]. And if so be that they depart their hosen in\r\nother colours, as is white and blue, or white and black, or black\r\nand red, and so forth; then seemeth it, by variance of colour,\r\nthat the half part of their privy members be corrupt by the fire\r\nof Saint Anthony, or by canker, or other such mischance. And\r\nof the hinder part of their buttocks it is full horrible to see, for\r\ncertes, in that part of their body where they purge their stinking\r\nordure, that foul part shew they to the people proudly in despite\r\nof honesty [decency], which honesty Jesus Christ and his friends\r\nobserved to shew in his life. Now as of the outrageous array of\r\nwomen, God wot, that though the visages of some of them\r\nseem full chaste and debonair [gentle], yet notify they, in their\r\narray of attire, likerousness and pride. I say not that honesty\r\n[reasonable and appropriate style] in clothing of man or woman\r\nunconvenable but, certes, the superfluity or disordinate scarcity\r\nof clothing is reprovable. Also the sin of their ornament, or of\r\napparel, as in things that appertain to riding, as in too many\r\ndelicate horses, that be holden for delight, that be so fair, fat,\r\nand costly; and also in many a vicious knave, [servant] that is\r\nsustained because of them; in curious harness, as in saddles,\r\ncruppers, peytrels, [breast-plates] and bridles, covered with\r\nprecious cloth and rich bars and plates of gold and silver. For\r\nwhich God saith by Zechariah the prophet, \u201cI will confound the\r\nriders of such horses.\u201d These folk take little regard of the riding\r\nof God\u2019s Son of heaven, and of his harness, when he rode upon\r\nan ass, and had no other harness but the poor clothes of his\r\ndisciples; nor we read not that ever he rode on any other beast.\r\nI speak this for the sin of superfluity, and not for reasonable\r\nhonesty [seemliness], when reason it requireth. And moreover,\r\ncertes, pride is greatly notified in holding of great meinie\r\n[retinue of servants], when they be of little profit or of right no\r\nprofit, and namely [especially] when that meinie is felonous\r\n[violent ] and damageous [harmful] to the people by hardiness\r\n[arrogance] of high lordship, or by way of office; for certes,\r\nsuch lords sell then their lordship to the devil of hell, when they\r\nsustain the wickedness of their meinie. Or else, when these folk\r\nof low degree, as they that hold hostelries, sustain theft of their\r\nhostellers, and that is in many manner of deceits: that manner of\r\nfolk be the flies that follow the honey, or else the hounds that\r\nfollow the carrion. Such foresaid folk strangle spiritually their\r\nlordships; for which thus saith David the prophet, \u201cWicked\r\ndeath may come unto these lordships, and God give that they\r\nmay descend into hell adown; for in their houses is iniquity and\r\nshrewedness, [impiety] and not God of heaven.\u201d And certes, but\r\nif [unless] they do amendment, right as God gave his benison\r\n[blessing] to Laban by the service of Jacob, and to Pharaoh by\r\nthe service of Joseph; right so God will give his malison\r\n[condemnation] to such lordships as sustain the wickedness of\r\ntheir servants, but [unless] they come to amendment. Pride of\r\nthe table apaireth [worketh harm] eke full oft; for, certes, rich\r\nmen be called to feasts, and poor folk be put away and rebuked;\r\nalso in excess of divers meats and drinks, and namely [specially]\r\nsuch manner bake-meats and dish-meats burning of wild fire,\r\nand painted and castled with paper, and semblable [similar]\r\nwaste, so that it is abuse to think. And eke in too great\r\npreciousness of vessel, [plate] and curiosity of minstrelsy, by\r\nwhich a man is stirred more to the delights of luxury, if so be\r\nthat he set his heart the less upon our Lord Jesus Christ, certain\r\nit is a sin; and certainly the delights might be so great in this\r\ncase, that a man might lightly [easily] fall by them into deadly\r\nsin.\r\n\r\n[The sins that arise of pride advisedly and habitually are deadly;\r\nthose that arise by frailty unadvised suddenly, and suddenly\r\nwithdraw again, though grievous, are not deadly. Pride itself\r\nsprings sometimes of the goods of nature, sometimes of the\r\ngoods of fortune, sometimes of the goods of grace; but the\r\nParson, enumerating and examining all these in turn, points out\r\nhow little security they possess and how little ground for pride\r\nthey furnish, and goes on to enforce the remedy against pride \u2014\r\nwhich is humility or meekness, a virtue through which a man\r\nhath true knowledge of himself, and holdeth no high esteem of\r\nhimself in regard of his deserts, considering ever his frailty.]\r\n\r\nNow be there three manners [kinds] of humility; as humility in\r\nheart, and another in the mouth, and the third in works. The\r\nhumility in the heart is in four manners: the one is, when a man\r\nholdeth himself as nought worth before God of heaven; the\r\nsecond is, when he despiseth no other man; the third is, when he\r\nrecketh not though men hold him nought worth; the fourth is,\r\nwhen he is not sorry of his humiliation. Also the humility of\r\nmouth is in four things: in temperate speech; in humility of\r\nspeech; and when he confesseth with his own mouth that he is\r\nsuch as he thinketh that he is in his heart; another is, when he\r\npraiseth the bounte [goodness] of another man and nothing\r\nthereof diminisheth. Humility eke in works is in four manners:\r\nthe first is, when he putteth other men before him; the second is,\r\nto choose the lowest place of all; the third is, gladly to assent to\r\ngood counsel; the fourth is, to stand gladly by the award\r\n[judgment] of his sovereign, or of him that is higher in degree:\r\ncertain this is a great work of humility.\r\n\r\n[The Parson proceeds to treat of the other cardinal sins, and\r\ntheir remedies: (2.) Envy, with its remedy, the love of God\r\nprincipally and of our neighbours as ourselves: (3.) Anger, with\r\nall its fruits in revenge, rancour, hate, discord, manslaughter,\r\nblasphemy, swearing, falsehood, flattery, chiding and reproving,\r\nscorning, treachery, sowing of strife, doubleness of tongue,\r\nbetraying of counsel to a man\u2019s disgrace, menacing, idle words,\r\njangling, japery or buffoonery, &c. \u2014 and its remedy in the\r\nvirtues called mansuetude, debonairte, or gentleness, and\r\npatience or sufferance: (4.) Sloth, or \u201cAccidie,\u201d which comes\r\nafter the sin of Anger, because Envy blinds the eyes of a man,\r\nand Anger troubleth a man, and Sloth maketh him heavy,\r\nthoughtful, and peevish. It is opposed to every estate of man \u2014\r\nas unfallen, and held to work in praising and adoring God; as\r\nsinful, and held to labour in praying for deliverance from sin;\r\nand as in the state of grace, and held to works of penitence. It\r\nresembles the heavy and sluggish condition of those in hell; it\r\nwill suffer no hardness and no penance; it prevents any\r\nbeginning of good works; it causes despair of God\u2019s mercy,\r\nwhich is the sin against the Holy Ghost; it induces somnolency\r\nand neglect of communion in prayer with God; and it breeds\r\nnegligence or recklessness, that cares for nothing, and is the\r\nnurse of all mischiefs, if ignorance is their mother. Against\r\nSloth, and these and other branches and fruits of it, the remedy\r\nlies in the virtue of fortitude or strength, in its various species of\r\nmagnanimity or great courage; faith and hope in God and his\r\nsaints; surety or sickerness, when a man fears nothing that can\r\noppose the good works he has under taken; magnificence, when\r\nhe carries out great works of goodness begun; constancy or\r\nstableness of heart; and other incentives to energy and laborious\r\nservice: (5.) Avarice, or Covetousness, which is the root of all\r\nharms, since its votaries are idolaters, oppressors and enslavers\r\nof men, deceivers of their equals in business, simoniacs,\r\ngamblers, liars, thieves, false swearers, blasphemers, murderers,\r\nand sacrilegious. Its remedy lies in compassion and pity largely\r\nexercised, and in reasonable liberality \u2014 for those who spend on\r\n\u201cfool-largesse,\u201d or ostentation of worldly estate and luxury,\r\nshall receive the malison [condemnation] that Christ shall give\r\nat the day of doom to them that shall be damned: (6.) Gluttony;\r\n\u2014 of which the Parson treats so briefly that the chapter may be\r\ngiven in full: \u2014 ]\r\n\r\nAfter Avarice cometh Gluttony, which is express against the\r\ncommandment of God. Gluttony is unmeasurable appetite to eat\r\nor to drink; or else to do in aught to the unmeasurable appetite\r\nand disordered covetousness [craving] to eat or drink. This sin\r\ncorrupted all this world, as is well shewed in the sin of Adam\r\nand of Eve. Look also what saith Saint Paul of gluttony:\r\n\u201cMany,\u201d saith he, \u201cgo, of which I have oft said to you, and now\r\nI say it weeping, that they be enemies of the cross of Christ, of\r\nwhich the end is death, and of which their womb [stomach] is\r\ntheir God and their glory;\u201d in confusion of them that so savour\r\n[take delight in] earthly things. He that is usant [accustomed,\r\naddicted] to this sin of gluttony, he may no sin withstand, he\r\nmust be in servage [bondage] of all vices,  for it is the devil\u2019s\r\nhoard, [lair, lurking-place] where he hideth him in and resteth.\r\nThis sin hath many species. The first is drunkenness, that is the\r\nhorrible sepulture of man\u2019s reason: and therefore when a man is\r\ndrunken, he hath lost his reason; and this is deadly sin. But\r\nsoothly, when that a man is not wont to strong drink, and\r\nperadventure knoweth not the strength of the drink, or hath\r\nfeebleness in his head, or hath travailed [laboured], through\r\nwhich he drinketh the more, all [although] be he suddenly\r\ncaught with drink, it is no deadly sin, but venial. The second\r\nspecies of gluttony is, that the spirit of a man waxeth all\r\ntroubled for drunkenness, and bereaveth a man the discretion of\r\nhis wit. The third species of gluttony is, when a man devoureth\r\nhis meat, and hath no rightful manner of eating. The fourth is,\r\nwhen, through the great abundance of his meat, the humours of\r\nhis body be distempered. The fifth is, forgetfulness by too much\r\ndrinking, for which a man sometimes forgetteth by the morrow\r\nwhat be did at eve. In other manner be distinct the species of\r\ngluttony, after Saint Gregory. The first is, for to eat or drink\r\nbefore time. The second is, when a man getteth him too delicate\r\nmeat or drink. The third is, when men take too much over\r\nmeasure [immoderately]. The fourth is curiosity [nicety] with\r\ngreat intent [application, pains] to make and apparel [prepare]\r\nhis meat. The fifth is, for to eat too greedily. These be the five\r\nfingers of the devil\u2019s hand, by which he draweth folk to the sin.\r\n\r\nAgainst gluttony the remedy is abstinence, as saith Galen; but\r\nthat I hold not meritorious, if he do it only for the health of his\r\nbody. Saint Augustine will that abstinence be done for virtue,\r\nand with patience. Abstinence, saith he, is little worth, but  if\r\n[unless] a man have good will thereto, and but it be enforced by\r\npatience and by charity, and that men do it for God\u2019s sake, and\r\nin hope to have the bliss in heaven. The fellows of abstinence be\r\ntemperance, that holdeth the mean in all things; also shame, that\r\nescheweth all dishonesty [indecency, impropriety], sufficiency,\r\nthat seeketh no rich meats nor drinks, nor doth no force of [sets\r\nno value on] no outrageous apparelling of meat; measure\r\n[moderation] also, that restraineth by reason the unmeasurable\r\nappetite of eating; soberness also, that restraineth the outrage of\r\ndrink; sparing also, that restraineth the delicate ease to sit long\r\nat meat, wherefore some folk stand of their own will to eat,\r\nbecause they will eat at less leisure.\r\n\r\n[At great length the Parson then points out the many varieties of\r\nthe sin of (7.) Lechery, and its remedy in chastity and\r\ncontinence, alike in marriage and in widowhood; also in the\r\nabstaining from all such indulgences of eating, drinking, and\r\nsleeping as inflame the passions, and from the company of all\r\nwho may tempt to the sin. Minute guidance is given as to the\r\nduty of confessing fully and faithfully the circumstances that\r\nattend and may aggravate this sin; and the Treatise then passes\r\nto the consideration of the conditions that are essential to a true\r\nand profitable confession of sin in general. First, it must be in\r\nsorrowful bitterness of spirit; a condition that has five signs \u2014\r\nshamefastness, humility in heart and outward sign, weeping with\r\nthe bodily eyes or in the heart, disregard of the shame that\r\nmight curtail or garble confession, and obedience to the penance\r\nenjoined. Secondly, true confession must be promptly made, for\r\ndread of death, of increase of sinfulness, of forgetfulness of\r\nwhat should be confessed, of Christ\u2019s refusal to hear if it be put\r\noff to the last day of life; and this condition has four terms; that\r\nconfession be well pondered beforehand, that the man\r\nconfessing have comprehended in his mind the number and\r\ngreatness of his sins and how long he has lain in sin, that he be\r\ncontrite for and eschew his sins, and that he fear and flee the\r\noccasions for that sin to which he is inclined. \u2014 What follows\r\nunder this head is of some interest for the light which it throws\r\non the rigorous government wielded by the Romish Church in\r\nthose days \u2014]\r\n\r\nAlso thou shalt shrive thee of all thy sins to one man, and not a\r\nparcel [portion] to one man, and a parcel to another; that is to\r\nunderstand, in intent to depart [divide] thy confession for shame\r\nor dread; for it is but strangling of thy soul. For certes Jesus\r\nChrist is entirely all good, in him is none imperfection, and\r\ntherefore either he forgiveth all perfectly, or else never a deal\r\n[not at all]. I say not that if thou be assigned to thy penitencer\r\n<9> for a certain sin, that thou art bound to shew him all the\r\nremnant of thy sins, of which thou hast been shriven of thy\r\ncurate, but if it like thee [unless thou be pleased] of thy\r\nhumility; this is no departing [division] of shrift. And I say not,\r\nwhere I speak of division of confession, that if thou have license\r\nto shrive thee to a discreet and an honest priest, and where thee\r\nliketh, and by the license of thy curate, that thou mayest not\r\nwell shrive thee to him of all thy sins: but let no blot be behind,\r\nlet no sin be untold as far as thou hast remembrance. And when\r\nthou shalt be shriven of thy curate, tell him eke all the sins that\r\nthou hast done since thou wert last shriven. This is no wicked\r\nintent of division of shrift. Also, very shrift [true confession]\r\nasketh certain  conditions. First, that thou shrive thee by thy\r\nfree will, not constrained, nor for shame of folk, nor for malady\r\n[sickness],  or such things: for it is reason, that he that\r\ntrespasseth by his free will, that by his free will he confess his\r\ntrespass; and that no other man tell his sin but himself; nor he\r\nshall not nay nor deny his sin, nor wrath him against the priest\r\nfor admonishing him to leave his sin. The second condition is,\r\nthat thy shrift be lawful, that is to say, that thou that shrivest\r\nthee, and eke the priest that heareth thy confession, be verily in\r\nthe faith of Holy Church, and that a man be not despaired of the\r\nmercy of Jesus Christ, as Cain and Judas were. And eke a man\r\nmust accuse himself of his own trespass, and not another: but he\r\nshall blame and wite [accuse] himself of his own malice and of\r\nhis sin, and none other: but nevertheless, if that another man be\r\noccasion or else enticer of his sin, or the estate of the person be\r\nsuch by which his sin is aggravated, or else that be may not\r\nplainly shrive him but [unless] he tell the person with which he\r\nhath sinned, then may he tell, so that his intent be not to\r\nbackbite the person, but only to declare his confession. Thou\r\nshalt not eke make no leasings [falsehoods] in thy confession\r\nfor humility, peradventure, to say that thou hast committed and\r\ndone such sins of which that thou wert never guilty. For Saint\r\nAugustine saith, \u201cIf that thou, because of humility, makest a\r\nleasing on thyself, though thou were not in sin before, yet art\r\nthou then in sin through thy leasing.\u201d Thou must also shew thy\r\nsin by thine own proper mouth, but [unless] thou be dumb, and\r\nnot by letter; for thou that hast done the sin, thou shalt have the\r\nshame of the confession. Thou shalt not paint thy confession\r\nwith fair and subtle words, to cover the more thy sin; for then\r\nbeguilest thou thyself, and not the priest; thou must tell it\r\nplainly, be it never so foul nor so horrible. Thou shalt eke shrive\r\nthee to a priest that is discreet to counsel thee; and eke thou\r\nshalt not shrive thee for vain-glory, nor for hypocrisy, nor for\r\nno cause but only for the doubt [fear] of Jesus\u2019 Christ and the\r\nhealth of thy soul. Thou shalt not run to the priest all suddenly,\r\nto tell him lightly thy sin, as who telleth a jape [jest] or a tale,\r\nbut advisedly and with good devotion; and generally shrive thee\r\noft; if thou oft fall, oft arise by confession. And though thou\r\nshrive thee oftener than once of sin of which thou hast been\r\nshriven, it is more merit; and, as saith Saint Augustine, thou\r\nshalt have the more lightly [easily] release and grace of God,\r\nboth of sin and of pain. And certes, once a year at the least way,\r\nit is lawful to be houseled, <10> for soothly once a year all\r\nthings in the earth renovelen [renew themselves].\r\n\r\n[Here ends the Second Part of the Treatise; the Third Part,\r\nwhich contains the practical application of the whole, follows\r\nentire, along with the remarkable \u201cPrayer of Chaucer,\u201d as it\r\nstands in the Harleian Manuscript:\u2014]\r\n\r\nDe Tertia Parte Poenitentiae. [Of the third part of penitence]\r\n\r\nNow have I told you of very [true] confession, that is the\r\nsecond part of penitence: The third part of penitence is\r\nsatisfaction, and that standeth generally in almsdeed and bodily\r\npain. Now be there three manner of almsdeed: contrition of\r\nheart, where a man offereth himself to God; the second is, to\r\nhave pity of the default of his neighbour; the third is, in giving\r\nof good counsel and comfort, ghostly and bodily, where men\r\nhave need, and namely [specially] sustenance of man\u2019s food.\r\nAnd take keep [heed] that a man hath need of these things\r\ngenerally; he hath need of food, of clothing, and of herberow\r\n[lodging], he hath need of charitable counsel and visiting in\r\nprison and malady, and sepulture of his dead body. And if thou\r\nmayest not visit the needful with thy person, visit them by thy\r\nmessage and by thy gifts. These be generally alms or works of\r\ncharity of them that have temporal riches or discretion in\r\ncounselling. Of these works shalt thou hear at the day of doom.\r\nThis alms shouldest thou do of thine own proper things, and\r\nhastily [promptly], and privily [secretly] if thou mayest; but\r\nnevertheless, if thou mayest not do it privily, thou shalt not\r\nforbear to do alms, though men see it, so that it be not done for\r\nthank of the world, but only for thank of Jesus Christ. For, as\r\nwitnesseth Saint Matthew, chap. v., \u201cA city may not be hid that\r\nis set on a mountain, nor men light not a lantern and put it\r\nunder a bushel, but men set it on a candlestick, to light the men\r\nin the house; right so shall your light lighten before men, that\r\nthey may see your good works, and glorify your Father that is\r\nin heaven.\u201d\r\n\r\nNow as to speak of bodily pain, it is in prayer, in wakings,\r\n[watchings] in fastings, and in virtuous teachings. Of orisons ye\r\nshall understand, that orisons or prayers is to say a piteous will\r\nof heart, that redresseth it in God, and expresseth it by word\r\noutward, to remove harms, and to have things spiritual and\r\ndurable, and sometimes temporal things. Of which orisons,\r\ncertes in the orison of the Pater noster hath our Lord Jesus\r\nChrist enclosed most things. Certes, it is privileged of three\r\nthings in its dignity, for which it is more digne [worthy] than\r\nany other prayer: for Jesus Christ himself made it: and it is\r\nshort, for [in order] it should be coude the more lightly, [be\r\nmore easily conned or learned] and to withhold [retain] it the\r\nmore easy in heart, and help himself the oftener with this orison;\r\nand for a man should be the less weary to say it; and for a man\r\nmay not excuse him to learn it, it is so short and so easy: and\r\nfor it comprehendeth in itself all good prayers. The exposition\r\nof this holy prayer, that is so excellent and so digne, I betake\r\n[commit] to these masters of theology; save thus much will I\r\nsay, when thou prayest that God should forgive thee thy guilts,\r\nas thou forgivest them that they guilt to thee, be full well ware\r\nthat thou be not out of charity. This holy orison aminisheth\r\n[lesseneth] eke venial sin, and therefore it appertaineth specially\r\nto penitence. This prayer must be truly said, and in very faith,\r\nand that men pray to God ordinately, discreetly, and devoutly;\r\nand always a man shall put his will to be subject to the will of\r\nGod. This orison must eke be said with great humbleness and\r\nfull pure, and honestly, and not to the annoyance of any man or\r\nwoman. It must eke be continued with the works of charity. It\r\navaileth against the vices of the soul; for, assaith Saint Jerome,\r\nby fasting be saved the vices of the flesh, and by prayer the\r\nvices of the soul\r\n\r\nAfter this thou shalt understand, that bodily pain stands in\r\nwaking [watching].  For Jesus Christ saith \u201cWake and pray, that\r\nye enter not into temptation.\u201d Ye shall understand also, that\r\nfasting stands in three things: in forbearing of bodily meat and\r\ndrink, and in forbearing of worldly jollity, and in forbearing of\r\ndeadly sin; this is to say, that a man shall keep him from deadly\r\nsin in all that he may. And thou shalt understand eke, that God\r\nordained fasting; and to fasting appertain four things: largeness\r\n[generosity] to poor folk; gladness of heart spiritual; not to be\r\nangry nor annoyed nor grudge [murmur] for he fasteth; and also\r\nreasonable hour for to eat by measure; that is to say, a man\r\nshould not eat in untime [out of time],  nor sit the longer at his\r\nmeal for [because] he fasteth. Then shalt thou understand, that\r\nbodily pain standeth in discipline, or teaching, by word, or by\r\nwriting, or by ensample. Also in wearing of hairs [haircloth] or\r\nof stamin [coarse hempen cloth], or of habergeons [mail-shirts]\r\n<11> on their naked flesh for Christ\u2019s sake; but ware thee well\r\nthat such manner penance of thy flesh make not thine heart\r\nbitter or angry, nor annoyed of thyself; for better is to cast away\r\nthine hair than to cast away the sweetness of our Lord Jesus\r\nChrist. And therefore saith Saint Paul, \u201cClothe you, as they that\r\nbe chosen of God in heart, of misericorde [with compassion],\r\ndebonairte [gentleness], sufferance [patience], and such manner\r\nof clothing,\u201d of which Jesus Christ is more apaid [better\r\npleased] than of hairs or of hauberks. Then is discipline eke in\r\nknocking of thy breast, in scourging with yards [rods], in\r\nkneelings, in tribulations, in suffering patiently wrongs that be\r\ndone to him, and eke in patient sufferance of maladies, or losing\r\nof worldly catel [chattels], or of wife, or of child, or of other\r\nfriends.\r\n\r\nThen shalt thou understand which things disturb penance, and\r\nthis is in four things; that is dread, shame, hope, and wanhope,\r\nthat is, desperation. And for to speak first of dread, for which\r\nhe weeneth that he may suffer no penance, thereagainst is\r\nremedy for to think that bodily penance is but short and little at\r\nthe regard of [in comparison with] the pain of hell, that is so\r\ncruel and so long, that it lasteth without end. Now against the\r\nshame that a man hath to shrive him, and namely [specially]\r\nthese hypocrites, that would be holden so perfect, that they\r\nhave no need to shrive them; against that shame should a man\r\nthink, that by way of reason he that hath not been ashamed to\r\ndo foul things, certes he ought not to be ashamed to do fair\r\nthings, and that is confession. A man should eke think, that God\r\nseeth and knoweth all thy thoughts, and all thy works; to him\r\nmay nothing be hid nor covered. Men should eke remember\r\nthem of the shame that is to come at the day of doom, to them\r\nthat be not penitent and shriven in this present life; for all the\r\ncreatures in heaven, and in earth, and in hell, shall see apertly\r\n[openly] all that he hideth in this world.\r\n\r\nNow for to speak of them that be so negligent and slow to\r\nshrive them; that stands in two manners. The one is, that he\r\nhopeth to live long, and to purchase [acquire] much riches for\r\nhis delight, and then he will shrive him: and, as he sayeth, he\r\nmay, as him seemeth, timely enough come to shrift: another is,\r\nthe surquedrie [presumption <12>] that he hath in Christ\u2019s\r\nmercy. Against the first vice, he shall think that our life is in no\r\nsickerness, [security] and eke that all the riches in this world be\r\nin adventure, and pass as a shadow on the wall; and, as saith St\r\nGregory, that it appertaineth to the great righteousness of God,\r\nthat never shall the pain stint [cease] of them, that never would\r\nwithdraw them from sin, their thanks [with their goodwill], but\r\naye continue in sin; for that perpetual will to do sin shall they\r\nhave perpetual pain. Wanhope [despair] is in two manners [of\r\ntwo kinds]. The first wanhope is, in the mercy of God: the other\r\nis, that they think they might not long persevere in goodness.\r\nThe first wanhope cometh of that he deemeth that he sinned so\r\nhighly and so oft, and so long hath lain in sin, that he shall not\r\nbe saved. Certes against that cursed wanhope should he think,\r\nthat the passion of Jesus Christ is more strong for to unbind,\r\nthan sin is strong for to bind. Against the second wanhope he\r\nshall think, that as oft as he falleth, he may arise again by\r\npenitence; and though he never so long hath lain in sin, the\r\nmercy of Christ is always ready to receive him to mercy.\r\nAgainst the wanhope that he thinketh he should not long\r\npersevere in goodness, he shall think that the feebleness of the\r\ndevil may nothing do, but [unless] men will suffer him; and eke\r\nhe shall have strength of the help of God, and of all Holy\r\nChurch, and of the protection of angels, if him list.\r\n\r\nThen shall men understand, what is the fruit of penance; and\r\nafter the word of Jesus Christ, it is the endless bliss of heaven,\r\nwhere joy hath no contrariety of woe nor of penance nor\r\ngrievance; there all harms be passed of this present life; there as\r\nis the sickerness [security] from the pain of hell; there as is the\r\nblissful company, that rejoice them evermore each of the other\u2019s\r\njoy; there as the body of man, that whilom was foul and dark, is\r\nmore clear than the sun; there as the body of man that whilom\r\nwas sick and frail, feeble and mortal, is immortal, and so strong\r\nand so whole, that there may nothing apair [impair, injure] it;\r\nthere is neither hunger, nor thirst, nor cold, but every soul\r\nreplenished with the sight of the perfect knowing of God. This\r\nblissful regne [kingdom] may men purchase by poverty spiritual,\r\nand the glory by lowliness, the plenty of joy by hunger and\r\nthirst, the rest by travail, and the life by death and mortification\r\nof sin; to which life He us bring, that bought us with his\r\nprecious blood! Amen.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Parson\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Parson\u2019s Tale is believed to be a translation, more or less\r\nfree, from some treatise on penitence that was in favour about\r\nChaucer\u2019s time. Tyrwhitt says: \u201cI cannot recommend it as a very\r\nentertaining or edifying performance at this day; but the reader\r\nwill please to remember, in excuse both of Chaucer and of his\r\neditor, that, considering The Canterbury Tales as a great picture\r\nof life and manners, the piece would not have been complete if\r\nit had not included the religion of the time.\u201d The Editor of the\r\npresent volume has followed the same plan adopted with regard\r\nto Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Melib\u0153us, and mainly for the same\r\nreasons. (See note 1 to that Tale). An outline of the Parson\u2019s\r\nponderous sermon \u2014 for such it is \u2014 has been drawn; while\r\nthose passages have been given in full which more directly\r\nillustrate the social and the religious life of the time \u2014 such as\r\nthe picture of hell, the vehement and rather coarse, but, in an\r\nantiquarian sense, most curious and valuable attack on the\r\nfashionable garb of the day, the catalogue of venial sins, the\r\ndescription of gluttony and its remedy, &c. The brief third or\r\nconcluding part, which contains the application of the whole,\r\nand the \u201cRetractation\u201d or \u201cPrayer\u201d that closes the Tale and the\r\nentire \u201cmagnum opus\u201d of Chaucer, have been given in full.\r\n\r\n2. Jeremiah vi. 16.\r\n\r\n3. See Note 3 to the Sompnour\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n4. Just before, the Parson had cited the words of Job to God\r\n(Job x. 20-22), \u201cSuffer, Lord, that I may a while bewail and\r\nweep, ere I go without returning to the dark land, covered with\r\nthe darkness of death; to the land of misease and of darkness,\r\nwhere as is the shadow of death; where as is no order nor\r\nordinance, but grisly dread that ever shall last.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. \u201cI have lost everything - my time and my work.\u201d\r\n\r\n6. Accidie: neglectfulness or indifference; from the Greek,\r\nakedeia.\r\n\r\n7. The pax: an image which was presented to the people to be\r\nkissed, at that part of the mass where the priest said, \u201cPax\r\nDomini sit semper vobiscum.\u201d (\u201cMay the peace of the Lord be\r\nalways with you\u201d) The ceremony took the place, for greater\r\nconvenience, of the \u201ckiss of peace,\u201d which clergy and people, at\r\nthis passage, used to bestow upon each other.\r\n\r\n8. Three ways of ornamenting clothes with lace, &c.; in barring\r\nit was laid on crossways, in ounding it was waved, in paling it\r\nwas laid on lengthways.\r\n\r\n9. Penitencer: a priest who enjoined penance in extraordinary\r\ncases.\r\n\r\n10. To be houseled: to receive the holy sacrament; from Anglo-\r\nSaxon, \u201chusel;\u201d Latin, \u201chostia,\u201d or \u201chostiola,\u201d the host.\r\n\r\n11. It was a frequent penance among the chivalric orders to\r\nwear mail shirts next the skin.\r\n\r\n12. Surquedrie: presumption; from old French, \u201csurcuider,\u201d to\r\nthink arrogantly, be full of conceit.\r\n\r\n*PRECES DE CHAUCERES* <1>                            *Prayer of Chaucer*\r\n\r\n\r\nNow pray I to you all that hear this little treatise or read it, that\r\nif there be anything in it that likes them, that thereof they thank\r\nour Lord Jesus Christ, of whom proceedeth all wit and all\r\ngoodness; and if there be anything that displeaseth them, I pray\r\nthem also that they arette [impute] it to the default of mine\r\nunconning [unskilfulness], and not to my will, that would fain\r\nhave said better if I had had conning; for the book saith, all that\r\nis written for our doctrine is written. Wherefore I beseech you\r\nmeekly for the mercy of God that ye pray for me, that God have\r\nmercy on me and forgive me my guilts, and namely [specially]\r\nmy translations and of inditing in worldly vanities, which I\r\nrevoke in my Retractions, as is the Book of Troilus, the Book\r\nalso of Fame, the Book of Twenty-five Ladies, the Book of the\r\nDuchess, the Book of Saint Valentine\u2019s Day and of the\r\nParliament of Birds, the Tales of Canter bury, all those that\r\nsounen unto sin, [are sinful, tend towards sin] the Book of the\r\nLion, and many other books, if they were in my mind or\r\nremembrance, and many a song and many a lecherous lay, of the\r\nwhich Christ for his great mercy forgive me the sins. But of the\r\ntranslation of Boece de Consolatione, and other books of\r\nconsolation and of legend of lives of saints, and homilies, and\r\nmoralities, and devotion, that thank I our Lord Jesus Christ, and\r\nhis mother, and all the saints in heaven, beseeching them that\r\nthey from henceforth unto my life\u2019s end send me grace to bewail\r\nmy guilts, and to study to the salvation of my soul, and grant\r\nme grace and space of very repentance, penitence, confession,\r\nand satisfaction, to do in this present life, through the benign\r\ngrace of Him that is King of kings and Priest of all priests, that\r\nbought us with his precious blood of his heart, so that I may be\r\none of them at the day of doom that shall be saved: Qui cum\r\nPatre et Spiritu Sancto vivis et regnas Deus per omnia secula.\r\nAmen. <2>\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prayer of Chaucer\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The genuineness and real significance of this \u201cPrayer of\r\nChaucer,\u201d usually called his \u201cRetractation,\u201d have been warmly\r\ndisputed. On the one hand, it has been declared that the monks\r\nforged the retractation. and procured its insertion among the\r\nworks of the man who had done so much to expose their abuses\r\nand ignorance, and to weaken their hold on popular credulity:\r\non the other hand, Chaucer himself at the close of his life, is\r\nsaid to have greatly lamented the ribaldry and the attacks on the\r\nclergy which marked especially \u201cThe Canterbury Tales,\u201d and to\r\nhave drawn up a formal retractation of which the \u201cPrayer\u201d is\r\neither a copy or an abridgment. The beginning and end of the\r\n\u201cPrayer,\u201d as Tyrwhitt points out, are in tone and terms quite\r\nappropriate in the mouth of the Parson, while they carry on the\r\nsubject of which he has been treating; and, despite the fact that\r\nMr Wright holds the contrary opinion, Tyrwhitt seems to be\r\njustified in setting down the \u201cRetractation\u201d as interpolated into\r\nthe close of the Parson\u2019s Tale. Of the circumstances under\r\nwhich the interpolation was made, or the causes by which it was\r\ndictated, little or nothing can now be confidently affirmed; but\r\nthe agreement of the manuscripts and the early editions in\r\ngiving it, render it impossible to discard it peremptorily as a\r\ndeclaration of prudish or of interested regret, with which\r\nChaucer himself had nothing whatever to do.\r\n\r\n2. \u201c[You] Who with the Father and the Holy Spirit livest and\r\nreignest God for ever and ever. Amen.\u201d\r\n\r\nTHE END OF THE CANTERBURY TALES\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE COURT OF LOVE.\r\n\r\n\r\n\u201cThe Court Of Love\u201d was probably Chaucer\u2019s first poem of any\r\nconsequence. It is believed to have been written at the age, and\r\nunder the circumstances, of which it contains express mention;\r\nthat is, when the poet was eighteen years old, and resided as a\r\nstudent at Cambridge, \u2014 about the year 1346. The composition\r\nis marked by an elegance, care, and finish very different from\r\nthe bold freedom which in so great measure distinguishes the\r\nCanterbury Tales; and the fact is easily explained when we\r\nremember that, in the earlier poem, Chaucer followed a beaten\r\npath, in which he had many predecessors and competitors, all\r\nseeking to sound the praises of love with the grace, the\r\ningenuity, and studious devotion, appropriate to the theme. The\r\nstory of the poem is exceedingly simple. Under the name of\r\nPhilogenet, a clerk or scholar of Cambridge, the poet relates\r\nthat, summoned by Mercury to the Court of Love, he journeys\r\nto the splendid castle where the King and Queen of Love,\r\nAdmetus and Alcestis, keep their state. Discovering among the\r\ncourtiers a friend named Philobone, a chamberwoman to the\r\nQueen, Philogenet is led by her into a circular temple, where, in\r\na tabernacle, sits Venus, with Cupid by her side. While he is\r\nsurveying the motley crowd of suitors to the goddess,\r\nPhilogenet is summoned back into the King\u2019s presence, chidden\r\nfor his tardiness in coming to Court, and commanded to swear\r\nobservance to the twenty Statutes of Love \u2014 which are recited\r\nat length. Philogenet then makes his prayers and vows to\r\nVenus, desiring that he may have for his love a lady whom he\r\nhas seen in a dream; and Philobone introduces him to the lady\r\nherself, named Rosial, to whom he does suit and service of love.\r\nAt first the lady is obdurate to his entreaties; but, Philogenet\r\nhaving proved the sincerity of his passion by a fainting fit,\r\nRosial relents, promises her favour, and orders Philobone to\r\nconduct him round the Court. The courtiers are then minutely\r\ndescribed; but the description is broken off abruptly, and we are\r\nintroduced to Rosial in the midst of a confession of her love.\r\nFinally she commands Philogenet to abide with her until the\r\nFirst of May, when the King of Love will hold high festival; he\r\nobeys; and the poem closes with the May Day festival service,\r\ncelebrated by a choir of birds, who sing an ingenious, but what\r\nmust have seemed in those days a more than slightly profane,\r\nparaphrase or parody of the matins for Trinity Sunday, to the\r\npraise of Cupid. From this outline, it will be seen at once that\r\nChaucer\u2019s \u201cCourt of Love\u201d is in important particulars different\r\nfrom the institutions which, in the two centuries preceding his\r\nown, had so much occupied the attention of poets and gallants,\r\nand so powerfully controlled the social life of the noble and\r\nrefined classes. It is a regal, not a legal, Court which the poet\r\npictures to us; we are not introduced to a regularly constituted\r\nand authoritative tribunal in which nice questions of conduct in\r\nthe relations of lovers are discussed and decided \u2014 but to the\r\ncentral and sovereign seat of Love\u2019s authority, where the\r\nstatutes are moulded, and the decrees are issued, upon which\r\nthe inferior and special tribunals we have mentioned frame their\r\nproceedings. The \u201cCourts of Love,\u201d in Chaucer\u2019s time, had lost\r\nnone of the prestige and influence which had been conferred\r\nupon them by the patronage and participation of Kings, Queens,\r\nEmperors, and Popes. But the institution, in its legal or judicial\r\ncharacter, was peculiar to France; and although the whole spirit\r\nof Chaucer\u2019s poem, especially as regards the esteem and\r\nreverence in which women were held, is that which animated\r\nthe French Courts, his treatment of the subject is broader and\r\nmore general, consequently more fitted to enlist the interest of\r\nEnglish readers.\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was\r\nnot the author of this poem)\r\n\r\nThe poem consists of 206 stanzas of seven lines each; of which,\r\nin this edition, eighty-three are represented by a prose\r\nabridgement.\r\n\r\nWith timorous heart, and trembling hand of dread,\r\nOf cunning* naked, bare of eloquence,                             *skill\r\nUnto the *flow\u2019r of port in womanhead*        *one who is the perfection\r\nI write, as he that none intelligence              of womanly behaviour*\r\nOf metres hath, <1> nor flowers of sentence,\r\nSave that me list my writing to convey,\r\nIn that I can, to please her high nobley.*                    *nobleness\r\n\r\nThe blossoms fresh of Tullius\u2019* garden swoot**           *Cicero **sweet\r\nPresent they not, my matter for to born:* <2>           *burnish, polish\r\nPoems of Virgil take here no root,\r\nNor craft of Galfrid <3> may not here sojourn;\r\nWhy *n\u2019am I* cunning? O well may I mourn,                     *am I not*\r\nFor lack of science, that I cannot write\r\nUnto the princess of my life aright!\r\n\r\nNo terms are dign* unto her excellence,                          *worthy\r\nSo is she sprung of noble stirp* and high;                    *stock <4>\r\nA world of honour and of reverence\r\nThere is in her, this will I testify.\r\nCalliope, <5> thou sister wise and sly,*                        *skilful\r\nAnd thou, Minerva, guide me with thy grace,\r\nThat language rude my matter not deface!\r\n\r\nThy sugar droppes sweet of Helicon\r\nDistil in me, thou gentle Muse, I pray;\r\nAnd thee, Melpomene, <6> I call anon\r\nOf ignorance the mist to chase away;\r\nAnd give me grace so for to write and say,\r\nThat she, my lady, of her worthiness,\r\nAccept *in gree* this little short treatess,*    *with favour* *treatise\r\n\r\nThat is entitled thus, The Court of Love.\r\nAnd ye that be metricians,* me excuse,               *skilled versifiers\r\nI you beseech, for Venus\u2019 sake above;\r\nFor what I mean in this ye need not muse:\r\nAnd if so be my lady it refuse\r\nFor lack of ornate speech, I would be woe\r\nThat I presume to her to write so.\r\n\r\nBut my intent, and all my busy cure,*                              *care\r\nIs for to write this treatise, as I can,\r\nUnto my lady, stable, true, and sure,\r\nFaithful and kind, since first that she began\r\nMe to accept in service as her man;\r\nTo her be all the pleasure of this book,\r\nThat, when *her like,* she may it read and look.        *it pleases her*\r\n\r\nWhen [he] was young, at eighteen year of age,\r\nLusty and light, desirous of pleasance,\r\nApproaching* full sad and ripe corage,<7>           *gradually attaining\r\n\r\nThen \u2014 says the poet \u2014 did Love urge him to do\r\nhim obeisance, and to go \u201cthe Court of Love to\r\nsee, a lite [little] beside the Mount of Citharee.\u201d\r\n<8> Mercury bade him, on pain of death, to\r\nappear; and he went by strange and far countries\r\nin search of the Court. Seeing at last a crowd of\r\npeople, \u201cas bees,\u201d making their way thither, the\r\npoet asked whither they went; and \u201cone that\r\nanswer\u2019d like a maid\u201d said that they were bound to\r\nthe Court of Love, at Citheron,  where \u201cthe King\r\nof Love, and all his noble rout [company],\r\n\r\n\u201cDwelleth within a castle royally.\u201d\r\nSo them apace I journey\u2019d forth among,\r\nAnd as he said, so found I there truly;\r\nFor I beheld the town \u2014 so high and strong,\r\nAnd high pinnacles, large of height and long,\r\nWith plate of gold bespread on ev\u2019ry side,\r\nAnd precious stones, the stone work for to hide.\r\n\r\nNo sapphire of Ind, no ruby rich of price,\r\nThere lacked then, nor emerald so green,\r\nBalais, Turkeis, <9> nor thing, *to my devise,*        *in my judgement*\r\nThat may the castle make for to sheen;*                    *be beautiful\r\nAll was as bright as stars in winter be\u2019n;\r\nAnd Phoebus shone, to make his peace again,\r\nFor trespass* done to high estates twain,  \u2014                   *offence\r\n\r\nWhen he had found Venus in the arms of Mars, and hastened to\r\ntell Vulcan of his wife\u2019s infidelity <10>. Now he was shining\r\nbrightly on the castle, \u201cin sign he looked after Love\u2019s grace;\u201d for\r\nthere is no god in Heaven or in Hell \u201cbut he hath been right\r\nsubject unto Love.\u201d Continuing his description of the castle,\r\nPhilogenet says that he saw never any so large and high; within\r\nand without, it was painted \u201cwith many a thousand daisies, red\r\nas rose,\u201d and white also, in signification of whom, he knew not;\r\nunless it was the flower of Alcestis <11>, who, under Venus,\r\nwas queen of the place, as Admetus was king;\r\n\r\nTo whom obey\u2019d the ladies good nineteen <12>,\r\nWith many a thousand other, bright of face.\r\nAnd young men fele* came forth with lusty pace,               *many <13>\r\nAnd aged eke, their homage to dispose;\r\nBut what they were, I could not well disclose.\r\n\r\nYet nere* and nere* forth in I gan me dress,                     *nearer\r\nInto a hall of noble apparail,*                             *furnishings\r\nWith arras <14> spread, and cloth of gold, I guess,\r\nAnd other silk *of easier avail;*    *less difficult, costly, to attain*\r\nUnder the *cloth of their estate,* sans fail,             *state canopy*\r\nThe King and Queen there sat, as I beheld;\r\nIt passed joy of *Elysee the feld.*                 *The Elysian Fields*\r\n\r\nThere saintes* have their coming and resort,           *martyrs for love\r\nTo see the King so royally beseen,*                             *adorned\r\nIn purple clad, and eke the Queen *in sort;*                  *suitably*\r\nAnd on their heades saw I crownes twain,\r\nWith stones frett,* so that it was no pain,                     *adorned\r\nWithoute meat or drink, to stand and see\r\nThe Kinge\u2019s honour and the royalty.\r\n\r\nTo treat of state affairs, Danger <15> stood by the\r\nKing, and Disdain by the Queen; who cast her eyes\r\nhaughtily about, sending forth beams that seemed\r\n\u201cshapen like a dart, sharp and piercing, and small and\r\nstraight of line;\u201d while her hair shone as gold so fine,\r\n\u201cdishevel, crisp, down hanging at her back a yard in\r\nlength.\u201d <16> Amazed and dazzled by her beauty,\r\nPhilogenet stood perplexed, till he spied a Maid,\r\nPhilobone \u2014 a chamberwoman of the Queen\u2019s \u2014 who\r\nasked how and on what errand he came thither.\r\nLearning that he had been summoned by Mercury, she\r\ntold him that he ought to have come of his free will,\r\nand that he \u201cwill be shent [rebuked, disgraced]\u201d\r\nbecause he did not.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor ye that reign in youth and lustiness,\r\nPamper\u2019d with ease, and jealous in your age,\r\nYour duty is, as far as I can guess,\r\nTo Love\u2019s Court to dresse* your voyage,                 *direct, address\r\nAs soon as Nature maketh you so sage\r\nThat ye may know a woman from a swan, <17>\r\nOr when your foot is growen half a span.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut since that ye, by wilful negligence,\r\nThis eighteen year have kept yourself at large,\r\nThe greater is your trespass and offence,\r\nAnd in your neck you must bear all the charge:\r\nFor better were ye be withoute barge*                              *boat\r\nAmid the sea in tempest and in rain,\r\nThan bide here, receiving woe and pain\r\n\r\n\u201cThat ordained is for such as them absent\r\nFrom Love\u2019s Court by yeares long and fele.*                         many\r\nI lay* my life ye shall full soon repent;                         *wager\r\nFor Love will rive your colour, lust, and heal:*                 *health\r\nEke ye must bait* on many a heavy meal:                            *feed\r\n*No force,* y-wis; I stirr\u2019d you long agone                  *no matter*\r\nTo draw to Court,\u201d quoth little Philobone.\r\n\r\n\u201cYe shall well see how rough and angry face\r\nThe King of Love will show, when ye him see;\r\nBy mine advice kneel down and ask him grace,\r\nEschewing* peril and adversity;                                *avoiding\r\nFor well I wot it will none other be;\r\nComfort is none, nor counsel to your ease;\r\nWhy will ye then the King of Love displease?\u201d\r\n\r\nThereupon Philogenet professed humble repentance,\r\nand willingness to bear all hardship and chastisement\r\nfor his past offence.\r\n\r\nThese wordes said, she caught me by the lap,*       *edge of the garment\r\nAnd led me forth into a temple round,\r\nBoth large and wide; and, as my blessed hap\r\nAnd good. adventure was, right soon I found\r\nA tabernacle <18> raised from the ground,\r\nWhere Venus sat, and Cupid by her side;\r\nYet half for dread I gan my visage hide.\r\n\r\nAnd eft* again I looked and beheld,                          *afterwards\r\nSeeing *full sundry people* in the place,         *people of many sorts*\r\nAnd *mister folk,* and some that might not weld         *craftsmen <19>*\r\nTheir limbes well, \u2014 me thought a wonder case.                     *use\r\nThe temple shone with windows all of glass,\r\nBright as the day, with many a fair image;\r\nAnd there I saw the fresh queen of Carthage,\r\n\r\nDido, that brent* her beauty for the love                         *burnt\r\nOf false Aeneas; and the waimenting*                          *lamenting\r\nOf her, Annelide, true as turtle dove\r\nTo Arcite false; <20> and there was in painting\r\nOf many a Prince, and many a doughty King,\r\nWhose martyrdom was show\u2019d about the walls;\r\nAnd how that fele* for love had suffer\u2019d falls.**     *many **calamities\r\n\r\nPhilogenet was astonished at the crowd of people that\r\nhe saw, doing sacrifice to the god and goddess.\r\nPhilobone informed him that they came from other\r\ncourts; those who knelt in blue wore the colour in\r\nsign of their changeless truth <21>; those in black,\r\nwho uttered cries of grief, were the sick and dying of\r\nlove. The priests, nuns, hermits, and friars, and all that\r\nsat in white, in russet and in green, \u201cwailed of their\r\nwoe;\u201d and for all people, of every degree, the Court\r\nwas open and free. While he walked about with\r\nPhilobone, a messenger from the King entered, and\r\nsummoned all the new-come folk to the royal\r\npresence. Trembling and pale, Philogenet approached\r\nthe throne of Admetus, and was sternly asked why he\r\ncame so late to Court. He pleaded that a hundred\r\ntimes he had been at the gate, but had been prevented\r\nfrom entering by failure to see any of his\r\nacquaintances, and by shamefacedness. The King\r\npardoned him, on condition that thenceforth he should\r\nserve Love; and the poet took oath to do so, \u201cthough\r\nDeath therefor me thirle [pierce] with his spear.\u201d\r\nWhen the King had seen all the new-comers, he\r\ncommanded an officer to take their oaths of\r\nallegiance, and show them the Statutes of the Court,\r\nwhich must be observed till death.\r\n\r\nAnd, for that I was letter\u2019d, there I read\r\nThe statutes whole of Love\u2019s Court and hail:\r\nThe first statute that on the book was spread,\r\nWas, To be true in thought and deedes all\r\nUnto the King of Love, the lord royal;\r\nAnd, to the Queen, as faithful and as kind\r\nAs I could think with hearte, will, and mind.\r\n\r\nThe second statute, Secretly to keep\r\nCounsel* of love, not blowing** ev\u2019rywhere            *secrets **talking\r\nAll that I know, and let it sink and fleet;*                      *float\r\nIt may not sound in ev\u2019ry wighte\u2019s ear:\r\nExiling slander ay for dread and fear,\r\nAnd to my lady, which I love and serve,\r\nBe true and kind, her grace for to deserve.\r\n\r\nThe third statute was clearly writ also,\r\nWithoute change to live and die the same,\r\nNone other love to take, for weal nor woe,\r\nFor blind delight, for earnest nor for game:\r\nWithout repent, for laughing or for grame,*            *vexation, sorrow\r\nTo bide still in full perseverance:\r\nAll this was whole the Kinge\u2019s ordinance.\r\n\r\nThe fourth statute, To *purchase ever to her,*       *promote her cause*\r\nAnd stirre folk to love, and bete* fire                          *kindle\r\nOn Venus\u2019 altar, here about and there,\r\nAnd preach to them of love and hot desire,\r\nAnd tell how love will quite* well their hire:                   *reward\r\nThis must be kept; and loth me to displease:\r\nIf love be wroth, pass; for thereby is ease.\r\n\r\nThe fifth statute, Not to be dangerous,*              *fastidious, angry\r\nIf that a thought would reave* me of my sleep:                  *deprive\r\nNor of a sight to be over squaimous;*                          *desirous\r\nAnd so verily this statute was to keep,\r\nTo turn and wallow in my bed and weep,\r\nWhen that my lady, of her cruelty,\r\nWould from her heart exilen all pity.\r\n\r\nThe sixth statute, It was for me to use\r\nAlone to wander, void of company,\r\nAnd on my lady\u2019s beauty for to muse,\r\nAnd thinken it *no force* to live or die;       *matter of indifference*\r\nAnd eft again to think* the remedy,                          *think upon\r\nHow to her grace I might anon attain,\r\nAnd tell my woe unto my sovereign.\r\n\r\nThe sev\u2019nth statute was, To be patient,\r\nWhether my lady joyful were or wroth;\r\nFor wordes glad or heavy, diligent,\r\nWhether that she me helde *lefe or loth:*          *in love or loathing*\r\nAnd hereupon I put was to mine oath,\r\nHer for to serve, and lowly to obey,\r\nAnd show my cheer,* yea, twenty times a day.                *countenance\r\n\r\nThe eighth statute, to my rememberance,\r\nWas, For to speak and pray my lady dear,\r\nWith hourly labour and great entendance,*                     *attention\r\nMe for to love with all her heart entere,*                       *entire\r\nAnd me desire and make me joyful cheer,\r\nRight as she is, surmounting every fair;\r\nOf beauty well,* and gentle debonair.                      *the fountain\r\n\r\nThe ninth statute, with letters writ of gold,\r\nThis was the sentence, How that I and all\r\nShould ever dread to be too overbold\r\nHer to displease; and truly so I shall;\r\nBut be content for all thing that may fall,\r\nAnd meekly take her chastisement and yerd,*                   *rod, rule\r\nAnd to offend her ever be afear\u2019d.\r\n\r\nThe tenth statute was, Equally* to discern                       *justly\r\nBetween the lady and thine ability,\r\nAnd think thyself art never like to earn,\r\nBy right, her mercy nor her equity,\r\nBut of her grace and womanly pity:\r\nFor, though thyself be noble in thy strene,*            *strain, descent\r\nA thousand fold more noble is thy Queen.\r\n\r\nThy life\u2019s lady and thy sovereign,\r\nThat hath thine heart all whole in governance,\r\nThou may\u2019st no wise it take to disdain,\r\nTo put thee humbly at her ordinance,\r\nAnd give her free the rein of her pleasance;\r\nFor liberty is thing that women look,*                 *look for, desire\r\nAnd truly else *the matter is a crook.*                *things go wrong*\r\n\r\nTh\u2019 eleventh statute, Thy signes for to know\r\nWith eye and finger, and with smiles soft,\r\nAnd low to couch, and alway for to show,\r\nFor dread of spies, for to winken oft:\r\nAnd secretly to bring a sigh aloft,\r\nBut still beware of over much resort;\r\nFor that peradventure spoileth all thy sport.\r\n\r\nThe twelfth statute remember to observe:\r\nFor all the pain thou hast for love and woe,\r\nAll is too lite* her mercy to deserve,                           *little\r\nThou muste think, where\u2019er thou ride or go;\r\nAnd mortal woundes suffer thou also,\r\nAll for her sake, and think it well beset*                        *spent\r\nUpon thy love, for it may not be bet.*                   *better (spent)\r\n\r\nThe thirteenth statute, Whilom is to think\r\nWhat thing may best thy lady like and please,\r\nAnd in thine hearte\u2019s bottom let it sink:\r\nSome thing devise, and take for it thine ease,\r\nAnd send it her, that may her heart appease:\r\nSome heart, or ring, or letter, or device,\r\nOr precious stone; but spare not for no price.\r\n\r\nThe fourteenth statute eke thou shalt assay\r\nFirmly to keep, the most part of thy life:\r\nWish that thy lady in thine armes lay,\r\nAnd nightly dream, thou hast thy nighte\u2019s wife\r\nSweetly in armes, straining her as blife:*                 *eagerly <22>\r\nAnd, when thou seest it is but fantasy,\r\nSee that thou sing not over merrily;\r\n\r\nFor too much joy hath oft a woeful end.\r\nIt *longeth eke this statute for to hold,*     *it belongs to the proper\r\nTo deem thy lady evermore thy friend,        observance of this statute*\r\nAnd think thyself in no wise a cuckold.\r\nIn ev\u2019ry thing she doth but as she sho\u2019ld:\r\nConstrue the best, believe no tales new,\r\nFor many a lie is told, that seems full true.\r\n\r\nBut think that she, so bounteous and fair,\r\nCould not be false: imagine this algate;*                 *at all events\r\nAnd think that wicked tongues would her apair,*                  *defame\r\nSland\u2019ring her name and *worshipful estate,*           *honourable fame*\r\nAnd lovers true to setten at debate:\r\nAnd though thou seest a fault right at thine eye,\r\nExcuse it blife, and glose* it prettily.                  *gloss it over\r\n\r\nThe fifteenth statute, Use to swear and stare,\r\nAnd counterfeit a leasing* hardily,**                *falsehood **boldly\r\nTo save thy lady\u2019s honour ev\u2019rywhere,\r\nAnd put thyself for her to fight boldly;\r\nSay she is good, virtuous, and ghostly,*                *spiritual, pure\r\nClear of intent, and heart, and thought, and will;\r\nAnd argue not for reason nor for skill\r\n\r\nAgainst thy lady\u2019s pleasure nor intent,\r\nFor love will not be counterpled* indeed:         *met with counterpleas\r\nSay as she saith, then shalt thou not be shent;*              *disgraced\r\n\u201cThe crow is white;\u201d \u201cYea truly, so I rede:\u201d*                     *judge\r\nAnd aye what thing that she will thee forbid,\r\nEschew all that, and give her sov\u2019reignty,\r\nHer appetite to follow in all degree.\r\n\r\nThe sixteenth statute, keep it if thou may: <23>\r\nSev\u2019n times at night thy lady for to please,\r\nAnd sev\u2019n at midnight, sev\u2019n at morrow day,\r\nAnd drink a caudle early for thine ease.\r\nDo this, and keep thine head from all disease,\r\nAnd win the garland here of lovers all,\r\nThat ever came in Court, or ever shall.\r\n\r\nFull few, think I, this statute hold and keep;\r\nBut truly this my reason *gives me feel,*       *enables me to perceive*\r\nThat some lovers should rather fall asleep,\r\nThan take on hand to please so oft and weel.*                      *well\r\nThere lay none oath to this statute adele,*                     *annexed\r\nBut keep who might *as gave him his corage:*               *as his heart\r\nNow get this garland, folk of lusty age!                   inspired him*\r\n\r\nNow win who may, ye lusty folk of youth,\r\nThis garland fresh, of flowers red and white,\r\nPurple and blue, and colours full uncouth,*                     *strange\r\nAnd I shall crown him king of all delight!\r\nIn all the Court there was not, to my sight,\r\nA lover true, that he was not adread,\r\nWhen he express* had heard the statute read.                    *plainly\r\n\r\nThe sev\u2019nteenth statute, When age approacheth on,\r\nAnd lust is laid, and all the fire is queint,*                 *quenched\r\nAs freshly then thou shalt begin to fon,*                 *behave fondly\r\nAnd doat in love, and all her image paint\r\nIn thy remembrance, till thou gin to faint,\r\nAs in the first season thine heart began:\r\nAnd her desire, though thou nor may nor can\r\n\r\nPerform thy living actual and lust;\r\nRegister this in thine rememberance:\r\nEke when thou may\u2019st not keep thy thing from rust,\r\nYet speak and talk of pleasant dalliance;\r\nFor that shall make thine heart rejoice and dance;\r\nAnd when thou may\u2019st no more the game assay,\r\nThe statute bids thee pray for them that may.\r\n\r\nThe eighteenth statute, wholly to commend,\r\nTo please thy lady, is, That thou eschew\r\nWith sluttishness thyself for to offend;\r\nBe jolly, fresh, and feat,* with thinges new,               *dainty <24>\r\nCourtly with manner, this is all thy due,\r\nGentle of port, and loving cleanliness;\r\nThis is the thing that liketh thy mistress.\r\n\r\nAnd not to wander like a dulled ass,\r\nRagged and torn, disguised in array,\r\nRibald in speech, or out of measure pass,\r\nThy bound exceeding; think on this alway:\r\nFor women be of tender heartes ay,\r\nAnd lightly set their pleasure in a place;\r\nWhen they misthink,* they lightly let it pace.            *think wrongly\r\n\r\nThe nineteenth statute, Meat and drink forget:\r\nEach other day see that thou fast for love,\r\nFor in the Court they live withoute meat,\r\nSave such as comes from Venus all above;\r\nThey take no heed, *in pain of great reprove,*         *on pain of great\r\nOf meat and drink, for that is all in vain,                    reproach*\r\nOnly they live by sight of their sov\u2019reign.\r\n\r\nThe twentieth statute, last of ev\u2019ry one,\r\nEnrol it in thy hearte\u2019s privity;\r\nTo wring and wail, to turn, and sigh, and groan,\r\nWhen that thy lady absent is from thee;\r\nAnd eke renew the wordes all that she\r\nBetween you twain hath said, and all the cheer\r\nThat thee hath made thy life\u2019s lady dear.\r\n\r\nAnd see thy heart in quiet nor in rest\r\nSojourn, till time thou see thy lady eft,*                        *again\r\nBut whe\u2019er* she won** by south, or east, or west,       *whether **dwell\r\nWith all thy force now see it be not left\r\nBe diligent, *till time* thy life be reft,         *until the time that*\r\nIn that thou may\u2019st, thy lady for to see;\r\nThis statute was of old antiquity.\r\n\r\nThe officer, called Rigour \u2014 who is incorruptible by\r\npartiality, favour, prayer, or gold \u2014 made them swear\r\nto keep the statutes; and, after taking the oath,\r\nPhilogenet turned over other leaves of the book,\r\ncontaining the statutes of women. But Rigour sternly\r\nbade him forbear; for no man might know the statutes\r\nthat belong to women.\r\n\r\n\u201cIn secret wise they kepte be full close;\r\nThey sound* each one to liberty, my friend;                *tend, accord\r\nPleasant they be, and to their own purpose;\r\nThere wot* no wight of them, but God and fiend,                   *knows\r\nNor aught shall wit, unto the worlde\u2019s end.\r\nThe queen hath giv\u2019n me charge, in pain to die,\r\nNever to read nor see them with mine eye.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor men shall not so near of counsel be\u2019n\r\nWith womanhead, nor knowen of their guise,\r\nNor what they think, nor of their wit th\u2019engine;*                 *craft\r\n*I me report to* Solomon the wise, <25>           *I refer for proof to*\r\nAnd mighty Samson, which beguiled thrice\r\nWith Delilah was; he wot that, in a throw,\r\nThere may no man statute of women know.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor it peradventure may right so befall,\r\nThat they be bound by nature to deceive,\r\nAnd spin, and weep, and sugar strew on gall, <26>\r\nThe heart of man to ravish and to reave,\r\nAnd whet their tongue as sharp as sword or gleve:*        *glaive, sword\r\nIt may betide this is their ordinance,\r\nSo must they lowly do their observance,\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd keep the statute given them *of kind,*                  *by nature*\r\nOf such as Love hath giv\u2019n them in their life.\r\nMen may not wit why turneth every wind,\r\nNor waxe wise, nor be inquisitife\r\nTo know secret of maid, widow, or wife;\r\nFor they their statutes have to them reserved,\r\nAnd never man to know them hath deserved.\u201d\r\n\r\nRigour then sent them forth to pay court to Venus,\r\nand pray her to teach them how they might serve and\r\nplease their dames, or to provide with ladies those\r\nwhose hearts were yet vacant. Before Venus knelt a\r\nthousand sad petitioners, entreating her to punish \u201cthe\r\nfalse untrue,\u201d that had broken their vows, \u201cbarren of\r\nruth, untrue of what they said, now that their lust and\r\npleasure is allay\u2019d.\u201d But the mourners were in a\r\nminority;\r\n\r\nYet eft again, a thousand million,\r\nRejoicing, love, leading their life in bliss:\r\nThey said: \u201cVenus, redress* of all division,                     *healer\r\nGoddess eternal, thy name heried* is!                         *glorified\r\nBy love\u2019s bond is knit all thing, y-wis,*                     *assuredly\r\nBeast unto beast, the earth to water wan,*                         *pale\r\nBird unto bird, and woman unto man; <27>\r\n\r\n\u201cThis is the life of joy that we be in,\r\nResembling life of heav\u2019nly paradise;\r\nLove is exiler ay of vice and sin;\r\nLove maketh heartes lusty to devise;\r\nHonour and grace have they in ev\u2019ry wise,\r\nThat be to love\u2019s law obedient;\r\nLove maketh folk benign and diligent;\r\n\r\n\u201cAye stirring them to dreade vice and shame:\r\nIn their degree it makes them honourable;\r\nAnd sweet it is of love to bear the name,\r\nSo that his love be faithful, true, and stable:\r\nLove pruneth him to seemen amiable;\r\nLove hath no fault where it is exercis\u2019d,\r\nBut sole* with them that have all love despis\u2019d:\u201d                  *only\r\n\r\nAnd they conclude with grateful honours to the goddess\r\n\u2014 rejoicing hat they are hers in heart, and all inflamed\r\nwith her grace and heavenly fear. Philogenet now\r\nentreats the goddess to remove his grief; for he also\r\nloves, and hotly, only he does not know where \u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cSave only this, by God and by my troth;\r\nTroubled I was with slumber, sleep, and sloth\r\nThis other night, and in a vision\r\nI saw a woman roamen up and down,\r\n\r\n\u201cOf *mean stature,* and seemly to behold,              *middling height*\r\nLusty and fresh, demure of countenance,\r\nYoung and well shap\u2019d, with haire sheen* as gold,               *shining\r\nWith eyne as crystal, farced* with pleasance;                   *crammed\r\nAnd she gan stir mine heart a lite* to dance;                    *little\r\nBut suddenly she vanish gan right there:\r\nThus I may say, I love, and wot* not where.\u201d                       *know\r\n\r\nIf he could only know this lady, he would serve and obey her\r\nwith all benignity; but if his destiny were otherwise, he would\r\ngladly love and serve his lady, whosoever she might be. He\r\ncalled on Venus for help to possess his queen and heart\u2019s life,\r\nand vowed daily war with Diana: \u201cthat goddess chaste I keepen\r\n[care] in no wise to serve; a fig for all her chastity!\u201d Then he\r\nrose and went his way, passing by a rich and beautiful shrine,\r\nwhich, Philobone informed him, was the sepulchre of Pity. \u201cA\r\ntender creature,\u201d she said,\r\n\r\n\u201cIs shrined there, and Pity is her name.\r\nShe saw an eagle wreak* him on a fly,                            *avenge\r\nAnd pluck his wing, and eke him, *in his game;*              *for sport*\r\nAnd tender heart of that hath made her die:\r\nEke she would weep, and mourn right piteously,\r\nTo see a lover suffer great distress.\r\nIn all the Court was none, as I do guess,\r\n\r\n\u201cThat could a lover half so well avail,*                           *help\r\nNor of his woe the torment or the rage\r\nAslake;* for he was sure, withoute fail,                        *assuage\r\nThat of his grief she could the heat assuage.\r\nInstead of Pity, speedeth hot Courage\r\nThe matters all of Court, now she is dead;\r\n*I me report in this to womanhead.*         *for evidence I refer to the\r\n                                         behaviour of women themselves.*\r\n\r\n\u201cFor wail, and weep, and cry, and speak, and pray, \u2014\r\nWomen would not have pity on thy plaint;\r\nNor by that means to ease thine heart convey,\r\nBut thee receive for their own talent:*                     *inclination\r\nAnd say that Pity caus\u2019d thee, in consent\r\nOf ruth,* to take thy service and thy pain,                  *compassion\r\nIn that thou may\u2019st, to please thy sovereign.\u201d\r\n\r\nPhilobone now promised to lead Philogenet to \u201cthe fairest lady\r\nunder sun that is,\u201d the \u201cmirror of joy and bliss,\u201d whose name is\r\nRosial, and \u201cwhose heart as yet is given to no wight;\u201d\r\nsuggesting that, as he also was \u201cwith love but light advanc\u2019d,\u201d\r\nhe might set this lady in the place of her of whom he had\r\ndreamed. Entering a chamber gay, \u201cthere was Rosial, womanly\r\nto see;\u201d and the subtle-piercing beams of her eyes wounded\r\nPhilogenet to the heart. When he could speak, he threw himself\r\non his knees, beseeching her to cool his fervent woe:\r\n\r\nFor there I took full purpose in my mind,\r\nUnto her grace my painful heart to bind.\r\n\r\nFor, if I shall all fully her descrive,*                       *describe\r\nHer head was round, by compass of nature;\r\nHer hair as gold, she passed all alive,\r\nAnd lily forehead had this creature,\r\nWith lively *browes flaw,* of colour pure,         *yellow eyebrows <28>\r\nBetween the which was mean disseverance\r\nFrom ev\u2019ry brow, to show a due distance.\r\n\r\nHer nose directed straight, even as line,\r\nWith form and shape thereto convenient,\r\nIn which the *goddes\u2019 milk-white path* doth shine;          *the galaxy*\r\nAnd eke her eyne be bright and orient\r\nAs is the smaragd,* unto my judgment,                           *emerald\r\nOr yet these starres heav\u2019nly, small, and bright;\r\nHer visage is of lovely red and white.\r\n\r\nHer mouth is short, and shut in little space,\r\nFlaming somedeal,* not over red I mean,                        *somewhat\r\nWith pregnant lips, and thick to kiss, percase*           *as it chanced\r\n(For lippes thin, not fat, but ever lean,\r\nThey serve of naught, they be not worth a bean;\r\nFor if the bass* be full, there is delight;                   *kiss <29>\r\nMaximian <30> truly thus doth he write).\r\n\r\nBut to my purpose: I say, white as snow\r\nBe all her teeth, and in order they stand\r\nOf one stature; and eke her breath, I trow,\r\nSurmounteth all odours that e\u2019er I fand*                          *found\r\nIn sweetness; and her body, face, and hand\r\nBe sharply slender, so that, from the head\r\nUnto the foot, all is but womanhead.*                *womanly perfection\r\n\r\nI hold my peace of other thinges hid:\r\nHere shall my soul, and not my tongue, bewray;\r\nBut how she was array\u2019d, if ye me bid,\r\nThat shall I well discover you and say:\r\nA bend* of gold and silk, full fresh and gay,                      *band\r\nWith hair *in tress, y-broidered* full well,        *plaited in tresses*\r\nRight smoothly kempt,* and shining every deal.                   *combed\r\n\r\nAbout her neck a flow\u2019r of fresh device\r\nWith rubies set, that lusty were to see\u2019n;\r\nAnd she in gown was, light and summer-wise,\r\nShapen full well, the colour was of green,\r\nWith *aureate seint* about her sides clean,            *golden cincture*\r\nWith divers stones, precious and rich:\r\nThus was she ray\u2019d,* yet saw I ne\u2019er her lich,**         *arrayed **like\r\n\r\nIf Jove had but seen this lady, Calisto and Alcmena had never\r\nlain in his arms, nor had he loved the fair Europa, nor Danae,\r\nnor Antiope; \u201cfor all their beauty stood in Rosial; she seemed\r\nlike a thing celestial.\u201d By and by, Philogenet presented to her his\r\npetition for love, which she heard with some haughtiness; she\r\nwas not, she said, well acquainted with him, she did not know\r\nwhere he dwelt, nor his name and condition. He informed her\r\nthat \u201cin art of love he writes,\u201d and makes songs that may be\r\nsung in honour of the King and Queen of Love. As for his name\r\n\u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cMy name? alas, my heart, why mak\u2019st thou strange?*         *why so cold\r\nPhilogenet I call\u2019d am far and near,                        or distant?*\r\nOf Cambridge clerk, that never think to change\r\nFrom you, that with your heav\u2019nly streames* clear        *beams, glances\r\nRavish my heart; and ghost, and all in fere:*              *all together\r\nSince at the first I writ my bill* for grace,                  *petition\r\nMe thinks I see some mercy in your face;\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd again he humbly pressed his suit. But the lady disdained the\r\nidea that, \u201cfor a word of sugar\u2019d eloquence,\u201d she should have\r\ncompassion in so little space; \u201cthere come but few who speede\r\nhere so soon.\u201d If, as he says, the beams of her eyes pierce and\r\nfret him, then let him withdraw from her presence:\r\n\r\n\u201cHurt not yourself, through folly, with a look;\r\nI would be sorry so to make you sick!\r\nA woman should beware eke whom she took:\r\nYe be a clerk: go searche well my book,\r\nIf any women be so light* to win:                                  *easy\r\nNay, bide a while, though ye were *all my kin.\u201d*       *my only kindred*\r\n\r\nHe might sue and serve, and wax pale, and green, and dead,\r\nwithout murmuring in any wise; but whereas he desired her\r\nhastily to lean to love, he was unwise, and must cease that\r\nlanguage. For some had been at Court for twenty years, and\r\nmight not obtain their mistresses\u2019 favour; therefore she\r\nmarvelled that he was so bold as to treat of love with her.\r\nPhilogenet, on this, broke into pitiful lamentation; bewailing the\r\nhour in which he was born, and assuring the unyielding lady that\r\nthe frosty grave and cold must be his bed, unless she relented.\r\n\r\nWith that I fell in swoon, and dead as stone,\r\nWith colour slain,* and wan as ashes pale;                    *deathlike\r\nAnd by the hand she caught me up anon:\r\n\u201cArise,\u201d quoth she; \u201cwhat? have ye drunken dwale?* *sleeping potion <31>\r\nWhy sleepe ye? It is no nightertale.\u201d*                       *night-time\r\n\u201cNow mercy! sweet,\u201d quoth I, y-wis afraid;\r\n\u201cWhat thing,\u201d quoth she, \u201chath made you so dismay\u2019d?\u201d\r\n\r\nShe said that by his hue she knew well that he was a lover; and\r\nif he were secret, courteous, and kind, he might know how all\r\nthis could be allayed. She would amend all that she had missaid,\r\nand set his heart at ease; but he must faithfully keep the statutes,\r\n\u201cand break them not for sloth nor ignorance.\u201d The lover\r\nrequests, however, that the sixteenth may be released or\r\nmodified, for it \u201cdoth him great grievance;\u201d and she complies.\r\n\r\nAnd softly then her colour gan appear,\r\nAs rose so red, throughout her visage all;\r\nWherefore methinks it is according* her                  *appropriate to\r\nThat she of right be called Rosial.\r\nThus have I won, with wordes great and small,\r\nSome goodly word of her that I love best,\r\nAnd trust she shall yet set mine heart in rest.\r\n\r\nRosial now told Philobone to conduct Philogenet all over the\r\nCourt, and show him what lovers and what officers dwelt there;\r\nfor he was yet a stranger.\r\n\r\nAnd, stalking soft with easy pace, I saw\r\nAbout the king standen all environ,*                        *around <32>\r\nAttendance, Diligence, and their fellaw\r\nFurtherer, Esperance,* and many one;                               *Hope\r\nDread-to-offend there stood, and not alone;\r\nFor there was eke the cruel adversair,\r\nThe lover\u2019s foe, that called is Despair;\r\n\r\nWhich unto me spake angrily and fell,*                          *cruelly\r\nAnd said, my lady me deceive shall:\r\n\u201cTrow\u2019st thou,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthat all that she did tell\r\nIs true? Nay, nay, but under honey gall.\r\nThy birth and hers they be no thing egal:*                        *equal\r\nCast off thine heart, <33> for all her wordes white,\r\nFor in good faith she loves thee but a lite.*                    *little\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd eke remember, thine ability\r\nMay not compare with her, this well thou wot.\u201d\r\nYea, then came Hope and said, \u201cMy friend, let be!\r\nBelieve him not: Despair he gins to doat.\u201d\r\n\u201cAlas,\u201d quoth I, \u201chere is both cold and hot:\r\nThe one me biddeth love, the other nay;\r\nThus wot I not what me is best to say.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut well wot I, my lady granted me\r\nTruly to be my wounde\u2019s remedy;\r\nHer gentleness* may not infected be                        *noble nature\r\nWith doubleness,* this trust I till I die.\u201d                   *duplicity\r\nSo cast I t\u2019 avoid Despair\u2019s company,\r\nAnd take Hope to counsel and to friend.\r\n\u201cYea, keep that well,\u201d quoth Philobone, \u201cin mind.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd there beside, within a bay window,\r\nStood one in green, full large of breadth and length,\r\nHis beard as black as feathers of the crow;\r\nHis name was Lust, of wondrous might and strength;\r\nAnd with Delight to argue there he think\u2019th,\r\nFor this was alway his opinion,\r\nThat love was sin: and so he hath begun\r\n\r\nTo reason fast, and *ledge authority:*               *allege authorities\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth Delight, \u201clove is a virtue clear,\r\nAnd from the soul his progress holdeth he:\r\nBlind appetite of lust doth often steer,*              *stir (the heart)\r\nAnd that is sin; for reason lacketh there:\r\nFor thou dost think thy neighbour\u2019s wife to win;\r\nYet think it well that love may not be sin;\r\n\r\n\u201cFor God, and saint, they love right verily,\r\nVoid of all sin and vice: this know I weel,*                       *well\r\nAffection of flesh is sin truly;\r\nBut very* love is virtue, as I feel;                               *true\r\nFor very love may frail desire akele:*                             *cool\r\nFor very love is love withoute sin.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow stint,\u201d* quoth Lust, \u201cthou speak\u2019st not worth a pin.\u201d        *cease\r\n\r\nAnd there I left them in their arguing,\r\nRoaming farther into the castle wide,\r\nAnd in a corner Liar stood talking\r\nOf leasings* fast, with Flattery there beside;               *falsehoods\r\nHe said that women *ware attire of pride,                          *wore\r\nAnd men were found of nature variant,\r\nAnd could be false and *showe beau semblant.*          *put on plausible\r\n                                                 appearances to deceive*\r\nThen Flattery bespake and said, y-wis:\r\n\u201cSee, so she goes on pattens fair and feat;*               *pretty, neat\r\nIt doth right well: what pretty man is this\r\nThat roameth here? now truly drink nor meat\r\nNeed I not have, my heart for joy doth beat\r\nHim to behold, so is he goodly fresh:\r\nIt seems for love his heart is tender and nesh.\u201d*             *soft <34>\r\n\r\nThis is the Court of lusty folk and glad,\r\nAnd well becomes their habit and array:\r\nO why be some so sorry and so sad,\r\nComplaining thus in black and white and gray?\r\nFriars they be, and monkes, in good fay:\r\nAlas, for ruth! great dole* it is to see,                        *sorrow\r\nTo see them thus bewail and sorry be.\r\n\r\nSee how they cry and ring their handes white,\r\nFor they so soon* went to religion!,                              *young\r\nAnd eke the nuns with veil and wimple plight,*                  *plaited\r\nTheir thought is, they be in confusion:\r\n\u201cAlas,\u201d they say, \u201cwe feign perfection, <35>\r\nIn clothes wide, and lack our liberty;\r\nBut all the sin must on our friendes be. <36>\r\n\r\n\u201cFor, Venus wot, we would as fain* as ye,                        *gladly\r\nThat be attired here and *well beseen,*                  *gaily clothed*\r\nDesire man, and love in our degree,\u2019\r\nFirm and faithful, right as would the Queen:\r\nOur friendes wick\u2019, in tender youth and green,\r\nAgainst our will made us religious;\r\nThat is the cause we mourn and waile thus.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen said the monks and friars *in the tide,*         *at the same time*\r\n\u201cWell may we curse our abbeys and our place,\r\nOur statutes sharp to sing in copes wide, <37>\r\nChastely to keep us out of love\u2019s grace,\r\nAnd never to feel comfort nor solace;*                          *delight\r\nYet suffer we the heat of love\u2019s fire,\r\nAnd after some other haply we desire.\r\n\r\n\u201cO Fortune cursed, why now and wherefore\r\nHast thou,\u201d they said, \u201cbereft us liberty,\r\nSince Nature gave us instrument in store,\r\nAnd appetite to love and lovers be?\r\nWhy must we suffer such adversity,\r\nDian\u2019 to serve, and Venus to refuse?\r\nFull *often sithe* these matters do us muse.               *many a time*\r\n\r\n\u201cWe serve and honour, sore against our will,\r\nOf chastity the goddess and the queen;\r\n*Us liefer were* with Venus bide still,                *we would rather*\r\nAnd have regard for love, and subject be\u2019n\r\nUnto these women courtly, fresh, and sheen.*          *bright, beautiful\r\nFortune, we curse thy wheel of variance!\r\nWhere we were well, thou reavest* our pleasance.\u201d           *takest away\r\n\r\nThus leave I them, with voice of plaint and care,\r\nIn raging woe crying full piteously;\r\nAnd as I went, full naked and full bare\r\nSome I beheld, looking dispiteously,\r\nOn Poverty that deadly cast their eye;\r\nAnd \u201cWell-away!\u201d they cried, and were not fain,\r\nFor they might not their glad desire attain.\r\n\r\nFor lack of riches worldly and of good,\r\nThey ban and curse, and weep, and say, \u201cAlas!\r\nThat povert\u2019 hath us hent,* that whilom stood                    *seized\r\nAt hearte\u2019s ease, and free and in good case!\r\nBut now we dare not show ourselves in place,\r\nNor us embold* to dwell in company,                  *make bold, venture\r\nWhere as our heart would love right faithfully.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd yet againward shrieked ev\u2019ry nun,\r\nThe pang of love so strained them to cry:\r\n\u201cNow woe the time,\u201d quoth they, \u201cthat we be boun\u2019!*               *bound\r\nThis hateful order nice* will do us die!        *into which we foolishly\r\nWe sigh and sob, and bleeden inwardly,                           entered\r\nFretting ourselves with thought and hard complaint,\r\nThat nigh for love we waxe wood* and faint.\u201d                        *mad\r\n\r\nAnd as I stood beholding here and there,\r\nI was ware of a sort* full languishing,               *a class of people\r\nSavage and wild of looking and of cheer,\r\nTheir mantles and their clothes aye tearing;\r\nAnd oft they were of Nature complaining,\r\nFor they their members lacked, foot and hand,\r\nWith visage wry, and blind, I understand.\r\n\r\nThey lacked shape and beauty to prefer\r\nThemselves in love: and said that God and Kind*                  *Nature\r\nHad forged* them to worshippe the sterre,**            *fashioned **star\r\nVenus the bright, and leften all behind\r\nHis other workes clean and out of mind:\r\n\u201cFor other have their full shape and beauty,\r\nAnd we,\u201d quoth they, \u201cbe in deformity.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd nigh to them there was a company,\r\nThat have the Sisters warray\u2019d and missaid,\r\nI mean the three of fatal destiny, <38>\r\nThat be our workers: suddenly abraid,*                          *aroused\r\nOut gan they cry as they had been afraid;\r\n\u201cWe curse,\u201d quoth they, \u201cthat ever hath Nature\r\nY-formed us this woeful life t\u2019endure.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd there eke was Contrite, and gan repent,\r\nConfessing whole the wound that Cythere <39>\r\nHad with the dart of hot desire him sent,\r\nAnd how that he to love must subject be:\r\nThen held he all his scornes vanity,\r\nAnd said that lovers held a blissful life,\r\nYoung men and old, and widow, maid, and wife.\r\n\r\n\u201cBereave me, Goddess!\u201d quoth he, \u201cof thy might,\r\nMy scornes all and scoffes, that I have\r\nNo power for to mocken any wight\r\nThat in thy service dwell: for I did rave;\r\nThis know I well right now, so God me save,\r\nAnd I shall be the chief post* of thy faith,               *prop, pillar\r\nAnd love uphold, the reverse whoso saith.\u201d\r\n\r\nDissemble stood not far from him in truth,\r\nWith party* mantle, party hood and hose;                 *parti-coloured\r\nAnd said he had upon his lady ruth,*                               *pity\r\nAnd thus he wound him in, and gan to glose,\r\nOf his intent full double, I suppose:\r\nIn all the world he said he lov\u2019d her weel;\r\nBut ay me thought he lov\u2019d her *ne\u2019er a deal.*             *never a jot*\r\n\r\nEke Shamefastness was there, as I took heed,\r\nThat blushed red, and durst not be y-know\r\nShe lover was, for thereof had she dread;\r\nShe stood and hung her visage down alow;\r\nBut such a sight it was to see, I trow,\r\nAs of these roses ruddy on their stalk:\r\nThere could no wight her spy to speak or talk\r\n\r\nIn love\u2019s art, so gan she to abash,\r\nNor durst not utter all her privity:\r\nMany a stripe and many a grievous lash\r\nShe gave to them that woulde lovers be,\r\nAnd hinder\u2019d sore the simple commonalty,\r\nThat in no wise durst grace and mercy crave,\r\nFor *were not she,* they need but ask and have;            *but for her*\r\n\r\nWhere if they now approache for to speak,\r\nThen Shamefastness *returneth them* again:             *turns them back*\r\nThey think, \u201cIf we our secret counsel break,\r\nOur ladies will have scorn us certain,\r\nAnd peradventure thinke great disdain:\u201d\r\nThus Shamefastness may bringen in Despair;\r\nWhen she is dead the other will be heir.\r\n\r\n \u201cCome forth Avaunter! now I ring thy bell!\u201d <40>\r\nI spied him soon; to God I make avow,*                       *confession\r\nHe looked black as fiendes do in Hell:\r\n\u201cThe first,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthat ever I did wow,*                       *woo\r\n*Within a word she came,* I wot not how,               *she was won with\r\nSo that in armes was my lady free,                        a single word*\r\nAnd so have been a thousand more than she.\r\n\r\n\u201cIn England, Britain,* Spain, and Picardy,                     *Brittany\r\nArtois, and France, and up in high Holland,\r\nIn Burgoyne,* Naples, and in Italy,                            *Burgundy\r\nNavarre, and Greece, and up in heathen land,\r\nWas never woman yet that would withstand\r\nTo be at my commandment when I wo\u2019ld:\r\nI lacked neither silver coin nor gold.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd there I met with this estate and that;\r\nAnd her I broach\u2019d, and her, and her, I trow:\r\nLo! there goes one of mine; and, wot ye what?\r\nYon fresh attired have I laid full low;\r\nAnd such one yonder eke right well I know;\r\nI kept the statute <41> when we lay y-fere:*                   *together\r\nAnd yet* yon same hath made me right good cheer.\u201d                  *also\r\n\r\nThus hath Avaunter blowen ev\u2019rywhere\r\nAll that he knows, and more a thousand fold;\r\nHis ancestry of kin was to Lier,*                                  *Liar\r\nFor first he maketh promise for to hold\r\nHis lady\u2019s counsel, and it not unfold; \u2014\r\nWherefore, the secret when he doth unshit,*                    *disclose\r\nThen lieth he, that all the world may wit.*                        *know\r\n\r\nFor falsing so his promise and behest,*                           *trust\r\nI wonder sore he hath such fantasy;\r\nHe lacketh wit, I trow, or is a beast,\r\nThat can no bet* himself with reason guy**               *better **guide\r\nBy mine advice, Love shall be contrary\r\nTo his avail,* and him eke dishonour,                         *advantage\r\nSo that in Court he shall no more sojour.*              *sojourn, remain\r\n\r\n\u201cTake heed,\u201d quoth she, this little Philobone,\r\n\u201cWhere Envy rocketh in the corner yond,*                         *yonder\r\nAnd sitteth dark; and ye shall see anon\r\nHis lean body, fading both face and hand;\r\nHimself he fretteth,* as I understand                          devoureth\r\n(Witness of Ovid Metamorphoseos); <42>\r\nThe lover\u2019s foe he is, I will not glose.*                    *gloss over\r\n\r\n\u201cFor where a lover thinketh *him promote,*          *to promote himself*\r\nEnvy will grudge, repining at his weal;\r\nIt swelleth sore about his hearte\u2019s root,\r\nThat in no wise he cannot live in heal;*                         *health\r\nAnd if the faithful to his lady steal,\r\nEnvy will noise and ring it round about,\r\nAnd say much worse than done is, out of doubt.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd Privy Thought, rejoicing of himself, \u2014\r\nStood not far thence in habit marvellous;\r\n\u201cYon is,\u201d thought I, \u201csome spirit or some elf,\r\nHis subtile image is so curious:\r\nHow is,\u201d quoth I, \u201cthat he is shaded thus\r\nWith yonder cloth, I n\u2019ot* of what color?\u201d                     *know not\r\nAnd near I went and gan *to lear and pore,*            *to ascertain and\r\n                                                         gaze curiously*\r\nAnd frained* him a question full hard.                            *asked\r\n\u201cWhat is,\u201d quoth I, \u201cthe thing thou lovest best?\r\nOr what is boot* unto thy paines hard?                           *remedy\r\nMe thinks thou livest here in great unrest,\r\nThou wand\u2019rest aye from south to east and west,\r\nAnd east to north; as far as I can see,\r\nThere is no place in Court may holde thee.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhom followest thou? where is thy heart y-set?\r\nBut *my demand assoil,* I thee require.\u201d            *answer my question*\r\n\u201cMe thought,\u201d quoth he, \u201cno creature may let*                    *hinder\r\nMe to be here, and where as I desire;\r\nFor where as absence hath out the fire,\r\nMy merry thought it kindleth yet again,\r\nThat bodily, me thinks, with *my sov\u2019reign*                    *my lady*\r\n\r\n\u201cI stand, and speak, and laugh, and kiss, and halse;*           *embrace\r\nSo that my thought comforteth me full oft:\r\nI think, God wot, though all the world be false,\r\nI will be true; I think also how soft\r\nMy lady is in speech, and this on loft\r\nBringeth my heart with joy and great gladness;\r\nThis privy thought allays my heaviness.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd what I think, or where, to be, no man\r\nIn all this Earth can tell, y-wis, but I:\r\nAnd eke there is no swallow swift, nor swan\r\nSo wight* of wing, nor half so yern** can fly;         *nimble **eagerly\r\nFor I can be, and that right suddenly,\r\nIn Heav\u2019n, in Hell, in Paradise, and here,\r\nAnd with my lady, when I will desire.\r\n\r\n\u201cI am of counsel far and wide, I wot,\r\nWith lord and lady, and their privity\r\nI wot it all; but, be it cold or hot,\r\nThey shall not speak without licence of me.\r\nI mean, in such as seasonable* be,                              *prudent\r\nTho* first the thing is thought within the heart,                  *when\r\nEre any word out from the mouth astart.\u201d*                        *escape\r\n\r\nAnd with the word Thought bade farewell and yede:*            *went away\r\nEke forth went I to see the Courte\u2019s guise,\r\nAnd at the door came in, so God me speed,\r\nTwo courtiers of age and of assise*                                *size\r\nLike high, and broad, and, as I me advise,\r\nThe Golden Love and Leaden Love <43> they hight:*           *were called\r\nThe one was sad, the other glad and light.\r\n\r\nAt this point there is a hiatus in the poem, which abruptly ceases\r\nto narrate the tour of Philogenet and Philobone round the\r\nCourt, and introduces us again to Rosial, who is speaking thus\r\nto her lover, apparently in continuation of a confession of love:\r\n\r\n\u201cYes! draw your heart, with all your force and might,\r\nTo lustiness, and be as ye have said.\u201d\r\n\r\nShe admits that she would have given him no drop of favour,\r\nbut that she saw him \u201cwax so dead of countenance;\u201d then Pity\r\n\u201cout of her shrine arose from death to life,\u201d whisperingly\r\nentreating that she would do him some pleasance. Philogenet\r\nprotests his gratitude to Pity, his faithfulness to Rosial; and the\r\nlady, thanking him heartily, bids him abide with her till the\r\nseason of May, when the King of Love and all his company will\r\nhold his feast fully royally and well. \u201cAnd there I bode till that\r\nthe season fell.\u201d\r\n\r\nOn May Day, when the lark began to rise,\r\nTo matins went the lusty nightingale,\r\nWithin a temple shapen hawthorn-wise;\r\nHe might not sleep in all the nightertale,*                  *night-time\r\nBut \u201cDomine\u201d <44> gan he cry and gale,*                        *call out\r\n\u201cMy lippes open, Lord of Love, I cry,\r\nAnd let my mouth thy praising now bewry.\u201d*                   *show forth\r\n\r\nThe eagle sang \u201cVenite,\u201d <45> bodies all,\r\nAnd let us joy to love that is our health.\u201d\r\nAnd to the desk anon they gan to fall,\r\nAnd who came late he pressed in by stealth\r\nThen said the falcon, \u201cOur own heartes\u2019 wealth,\r\n\u2018Domine Dominus noster,\u2019 <46> I wot,\r\nYe be the God that do* us burn thus hot.\u201d                          *make\r\n\r\n\u201cCoeli enarrant,\u201d <47> said the popinjay,*                       *parrot\r\n\u201cYour might is told in Heav\u2019n and firmament.\u201d\r\nAnd then came in the goldfinch fresh and gay,\r\nAnd said this psalm with heartly glad intent,\r\n\u201cDomini est terra;\u201d <48> this Latin intent,*                      *means\r\nThe God of Love hath earth in governance:\r\nAnd then the wren began to skip and dance.\r\n\r\n\u201cJube Domine; <49> O Lord of Love, I pray\r\nCommand me well this lesson for to read;\r\nThis legend is of all that woulde dey*                              *die\r\nMartyrs for love; God yet their soules speed!\r\nAnd to thee, Venus, sing we, *out of dread,*             *without doubt*\r\nBy influence of all thy virtue great,\r\nBeseeching thee to keep us in our heat.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe second lesson robin redbreast sang,\r\n\u201cHail to the God and Goddess of our lay!\u201d*                *law, religion\r\nAnd to the lectern amorously he sprang:\r\n\u201cHail now,\u201d quoth be, \u201cO fresh season of May,\r\n*Our moneth glad that singen on the spray!*      *glad month for us that\r\nHail to the flowers, red, and white, and blue,      sing upon the bough*\r\nWhich by their virtue maken our lust new!\u201d\r\n\r\nThe third lesson the turtle-dove took up,\r\nAnd thereat laugh\u2019d the mavis* in a scorn:                    *blackbird\r\nHe said, \u201cO God, as might I dine or sup,\r\nThis foolish dove will give us all a horn!\r\nThere be right here a thousand better born,\r\nTo read this lesson, which as well as he,\r\nAnd eke as hot, can love in all degree.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe turtle-dove said, \u201cWelcome, welcome May,\r\nGladsome and light to lovers that be true!\r\nI thank thee, Lord of Love, that doth purvey\r\nFor me to read this lesson all *of due;*                   *in due form*\r\nFor, in good sooth, *of corage* I pursue             *with all my heart*\r\nTo serve my make* till death us must depart:\u201d                      *mate\r\nAnd then \u201cTu autem\u201d <50> sang he all apart.\r\n\r\n\u201cTe Deum amoris\u201d <51> sang the throstel* cock:                   *thrush\r\nTubal <52> himself, the first musician,\r\nWith key of harmony could not unlock\r\nSo sweet a tune as that the throstel can:\r\n\u201cThe Lord of Love we praise,\u201d quoth he than,*                      *then\r\nAnd so do all the fowles great and lite;*                        *little\r\n\u201cHonour we May, in false lovers\u2019 despite.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cDominus regnavit,\u201d <53> said the peacock there,\r\n\u201cThe Lord of Love, that mighty prince, y-wis,\r\nHe is received here and ev\u2019rywhere:\r\nNow Jubilate <54> sing:\u201d \u201cWhat meaneth this?\u201d\r\nSaid then the linnet; \u201cwelcome, Lord of bliss!\u201d\r\nOut start the owl with \u201cBenedicite,\u201d <55>\r\n\u201cWhat meaneth all this merry fare?\u201d* quoth he.              *doing, fuss\r\n\r\n\u201cLaudate,\u201d <56> sang the lark with voice full shrill;\r\nAnd eke the kite \u201cO admirabile;\u201d <57>\r\nThis quire* will through mine eares pierce and thrill;            *choir\r\nBut what? welcome this May season,\u201d quoth he;\r\n\u201cAnd honour to the Lord of Love must be,\r\nThat hath this feast so solemn and so high:\u201d\r\n\u201cAmen,\u201d said all; and so said eke the pie.*                      *magpie\r\n\r\nAnd forth the cuckoo gan proceed anon,\r\nWith \u201cBenedictus\u201d <58> thanking God in haste,\r\nThat in this May would visit them each one,\r\nAnd gladden them all while the feast shall last:\r\nAnd therewithal a-laughter* out he brast;\u201d**        *in laughter **burst\r\n\u201cI thanke God that I should end the song,\r\nAnd all the service which hath been so long.\u201d\r\n\r\nThus sang they all the service of the feast,\r\nAnd that was done right early, to my doom;*                    *judgment\r\nAnd forth went all the Court, both *most and least,*    *great and small\r\nTo fetch the flowers fresh, and branch and bloom;\r\nAnd namely* hawthorn brought both page and groom,            *especially\r\nWith freshe garlands party* blue and white, <59>         *parti-coloured\r\nAnd then rejoiced in their great delight.\r\n\r\nEke each at other threw the flowers bright,\r\nThe primerose, the violet, and the gold;\r\nSo then, as I beheld the royal sight,\r\nMy lady gan me suddenly behold,\r\nAnd with a true love, plighted many a fold,\r\nShe smote me through the very heart *as blive;*            *straightway*\r\nAnd Venus yet I thank I am alive.\r\n\r\nExplicit*                                                       *The End\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The Court of Love\r\n\r\n\r\n1. So the Man of Law, in the prologue to his Tale, is made to\r\nsay that Chaucer \u201ccan but lewedly (ignorantly or imperfectly) on\r\nmetres and on rhyming craftily.\u201d But the humility of those\r\napologies is not justified by the care and finish of his earlier\r\npoems.\r\n\r\n2. Born: burnish, polish: the poet means, that his verses do not\r\ndisplay the eloquence or brilliancy of Cicero in setting forth his\r\nsubject-matter.\r\n\r\n3. Galfrid: Geoffrey de Vinsauf to whose treatise on poetical\r\ncomposition a less flattering allusion is made in The Nun\u2019s\r\nPriest\u2019s Tale. See note 33 to that Tale.\r\n\r\n4. Stirp: race, stock; Latin, \u201cstirps.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. Calliope is the epic muse \u2014 \u201csister\u201d to the other eight.\r\n\r\n6. Melpomene was the tragic muse.\r\n\r\n7. The same is said of Griselda, in The Clerk\u2019s Tale; though she\r\nwas of tender years, \u201cyet in the breast of her virginity there was\r\ninclos\u2019d a sad and ripe corage\u201d\r\n\r\n8. The confusion which Chaucer makes between Cithaeron and\r\nCythera, has already been remarked.  See note 41 to the\r\nKnight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n9. Balais: Bastard rubies; said to be so called from Balassa, the\r\nAsian country where they were found. Turkeis: turquoise\r\nstones.\r\n\r\n10. Spenser, in his description of the House of Busirane, speaks\r\nof the sad distress into which Phoebus was plunged by Cupid, in\r\nrevenge for the betrayal of \u201chis mother\u2019s wantonness, when she\r\nwith Mars was meint [mingled] in joyfulness\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Alcestis, daughter of Pelias, was won to wife by Admetus,\r\nKing of Pherae, who complied with her father\u2019s demand that he\r\nshould come to claim her in a chariot drawn by lions and boars.\r\nBy the aid of Apollo \u2014 who tended the flocks of Admetus\r\nduring his banishment from heaven \u2014 the suitor fulfilled the\r\ncondition; and Apollo further induced the Moirae or Fates to\r\ngrant that Admetus should never die, if his father, mother, or\r\nwife would die for him. Alcestis devoted herself in his stead;\r\nand, since each had made great efforts or sacrifices for love, the\r\npair are fitly placed as king and queen in the Court of Love.\r\n\r\n12. In the prologue to the \u201cLegend of Good Women,\u201d Chaucer\r\nsays that behind the God of Love, upon the green, he \u201csaw\r\ncoming in ladies nineteen;\u201d but the stories of only nine good\r\nwomen are there told. In the prologue to The Man of Law\u2019s\r\nTale, sixteen ladies are named as having their stories written in\r\nthe \u201cSaints\u2019 Legend of Cupid\u201d \u2014 now known as the \u201cLegend of\r\nGood Women\u201d \u2014 (see note 5 to the Prologue to the Man of\r\nLaw\u2019s Tale); and in the \u201cRetractation,\u201d at the end of the Parson\u2019s\r\nTale, the \u201cBook of the Twenty-five Ladies\u201d is enumerated\r\namong the works of which the poet repents \u2014 but there \u201cxxv\u201d is\r\nsupposed to have been by some copyist written for \u201cxix.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. fele: many; German, \u201cviele.\u201d\r\n\r\n14. Arras: tapestry of silk, made at Arras, in France.\r\n\r\n15. Danger, in the Provencal Courts of Love, was the\r\nallegorical personification of the husband; and Disdain suitably\r\nrepresents the lover\u2019s corresponding difficulty from the side of\r\nthe lady.\r\n\r\n16. In The Knight\u2019s Tale, Emily\u2019s yellow hair is braided in a\r\ntress, or plait, that hung a yard long behind her back; so that,\r\nboth as regards colour and fashion, a singular resemblance\r\nseems to have existed between the female taste of 1369 and that\r\nof 1869.\r\n\r\n17. In an old monkish story \u2014 reproduced by Boccaccio, and\r\nfrom him by La Fontaine in the Tale called \u201cLes Oies de Frere\r\nPhilippe\u201d  \u2014 a young man is brought up without sight or\r\nknowledge of women, and, when he sees them on a visit to the\r\ncity, he is told that they are geese.\r\n\r\n18. Tabernacle: A shrine or canopy of stone, supported by\r\npillars.\r\n\r\n19. Mister folk:  handicraftsmen, or tradesmen, who have\r\nlearned \u201cmysteries.\u201d\r\n\r\n20. The loves \u201cOf Queen Annelida and False Arcite\u201d formed the\r\nsubject of a short unfinished poem by Chaucer, which was\r\nafterwards worked up into The Knight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n21. Blue was the colour of truth. See note 36 to the Squire\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n22. Blife: quickly, eagerly; for \u201cblive\u201d or \u201cbelive.\u201d\r\n\r\n23. It will be seen afterwards that Philogenet does not relish it,\r\nand pleads for its relaxation.\r\n\r\n24. Feat: dainty, neat, handsome; the same as \u201cfetis,\u201d oftener\r\nused in Chaucer; the adverb \u201cfeatly\u201d is still used, as applied to\r\ndancing, &c.\r\n\r\n25. Solomon was beguiled by his heathenish wives to forsake\r\nthe worship of the true God; Samson fell a victim to the wiles of\r\nDelilah.\r\n\r\n26. Compare the speech of Proserpine to Pluto, in The\r\nMerchant\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n27. See note 91 to the Knight\u2019s Tale for a parallel.\r\n\r\n28. Flaw: yellow; Latin, \u201cflavus,\u201d French, \u201cfauve.\u201d\r\n\r\n29. Bass: kiss; French, \u201cbaiser;\u201d and hence the more vulgar\r\n\u201cbuss.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. Maximian: Cornelius Maximianus Gallus flourished in the\r\ntime of the Emperor Anastasius; in one of his elegies, he\r\nprofessed a preference for flaming and somewhat swelling lips,\r\nwhich, when he tasted them, would give him full kisses.\r\n\r\n31. Dwale: sleeping potion, narcotic. See note 19 to the Reeve\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n32. Environ: around; French, \u201ca l\u2019environ.\u201d\r\n\r\n33. Cast off thine heart: i.e.  from confidence in her.\r\n\r\n34. Nesh: soft, delicate; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cnese.\u201d\r\n\r\n35. Perfection: Perfectly holy life, in the performance of vows\r\nof poverty, chastity, obedience, and other modes of mortifying\r\nthe flesh.\r\n\r\n36. All the sin must on our friendes be: who made us take the\r\nvows before they knew our own dispositions, or ability, to keep\r\nthem.\r\n\r\n37. Cope: The large vestment worn in singing the service in the\r\nchoir. In Chaucer\u2019s time it seems to have been a distinctively\r\nclerical piece of dress; so, in the prologue to The Monk\u2019s Tale,\r\nthe Host, lamenting that so stalwart a man as the Monk should\r\nhave gone into religion, exclaims, \u201cAlas! why wearest thou so\r\nwide a cope?\u201d\r\n\r\n38. The three of fatal destiny: The three Fates.\r\n\r\n39. Cythere:  Cytherea  \u2014  Venus, so called from the name of\r\nthe island, Cythera, into which her worship was first introduced\r\nfrom Phoenicia.\r\n\r\n40. Avaunter: Boaster; Philobone calls him out.\r\n\r\n41. The statute: i.e. the 16th.\r\n\r\n42. \u201cMetamorphoses\u201d Lib. ii. 768 et seqq., where a general\r\ndescription of Envy is given.\r\n\r\n43. Golden Love and Leaden Love represent successful and\r\nunsuccessful love; the first kindled by Cupid\u2019s golden darts, the\r\nsecond by his leaden arrows.\r\n\r\n44. \u201cDomine, labia mea aperies \u2014 et os meam annunciabit\r\nlaudem tuam\u201d (\u201cLord, open my lips \u2014 and my mouth will\r\nannounce your praise\u201d) Psalms li. 15, was the verse with which\r\nMatins began. The stanzas which follow contain a paraphrase of\r\nthe matins for Trinity Sunday, allegorically setting forth the\r\ndoctrine that love is the all-controlling influence in the\r\ngovernment of the\r\nuniverse.\r\n\r\n45. \u201cVenite, exultemus,\u201d (\u201cCome, let us rejoice\u201d) are the first\r\nwords of Psalm xcv. called the \u201cInvitatory.\u201d\r\n\r\n46. \u201cDomine Dominus noster:\u201d The opening words of Psalm\r\nviii.; \u201cO Lord our Lord.\u201d\r\n\r\n47. \u201cCoeli enarrant:\u201d Psalm xix. 1; \u201cThe heavens declare (thy\r\nglory).\u201d\r\n\r\n48. \u201cDomini est terra\u201d: Psalm xxiv. I; \u201cThe earth is the Lord\u2019s\r\nand the fulness thereof.\u201d The first \u201cnocturn\u201d is now over, and\r\nthe lessons from Scripture follow.\r\n\r\n49. \u201cJube, Domine:\u201d \u201cCommand, O Lord;\u201d from Matthew xiv.\r\n28, where Peter, seeing Christ walking on the water, says\r\n\u201cLord, if it be thou, bid me come to thee on the water.\u201d\r\n\r\n50: \u201cTu autem:\u201d the formula recited by the reader at the end of\r\neach lesson; \u201cTu autem, Domine, miserere nobis.\u201d (\u201cBut do\r\nthou, O Lord, have pity on us!\u201d)\r\n\r\n51. \u201cTe Deum Amoris:\u201d \u201cThee, God of Love (we praise).\u201d\r\n\r\n52. Not Tubal, who was the worker in metals; but Jubal, his\r\nbrother, \u201cwho was the father of all such as handle the harp and\r\norgan\u201d (Genesis iv. 21).\r\n\r\n53. \u201cDominus regnavit:\u201d  Psalm xciii. 1, \u201cThe Lord reigneth.\u201d\r\nWith this began the \u201cLaudes,\u201d or morning service of praise.\r\n\r\n54. \u201cJubilate:\u201d Psalm c. 1, \u201cMake a joyful noise unto the Lord.\u201d\r\n\r\n55. \u201cBenedicite:\u201d \u201cBless ye the Lord;\u201d the opening of the Song\r\nof the Three Children\r\n\r\n56. \u201cLaudate:\u201d Psalm cxlvii.; \u201cPraise ye the Lord.\u201d\r\n\r\n57. \u201cO admirabile:\u201d Psalm viii 1; \u201cO Lord our God, how\r\nexcellent is thy name.\u201d\r\n\r\n58. \u201cBenedictus\u201d: The first word of the Song of Zacharias\r\n(Luke i. 68); \u201cBlessed be the Lord God of Israel\u201d\r\n\r\n59. In The Knight\u2019s Tale we have exemplifications of the\r\ncustom of gathering and wearing flowers and branches on May\r\nDay; where Emily, \u201cdoing observance to May,\u201d goes into the\r\ngarden at sunrise and gathers flowers, \u201cparty white and red, to\r\nmake a sotel garland for her head\u201d; and again, where Arcite\r\nrides to the fields \u201cto make him a garland of the greves; were it\r\nof woodbine, or of hawthorn leaves\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE.\r\n\r\n\r\n[THE noble vindication of true love, as an exalting, purifying,\r\nand honour-conferring power, which Chaucer has made in \u201cThe\r\nCourt of Love,\u201d is repeated in \u201cThe Cuckoo and the\r\nNightingale.\u201d At the same time, the close of the poem leads up\r\nto \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls;\u201d for, on the appeal of the\r\nNightingale, the dispute between her and the Cuckoo, on the\r\nmerits and blessings of love, is referred to a parliament of birds,\r\nto be held on the morrow after Saint Valentine\u2019s Day. True, the\r\nassembly of the feathered tribes described by Chaucer, though\r\nheld on Saint Valentine\u2019s Day, and engaged in the discussion of\r\na controversy regarding love, is not occupied with the particular\r\ncause which in the present poem the Nightingale appeals to the\r\nparliament. But \u201cThe Cuckoo and the Nightingale\u201d none the less\r\nserves as a link between the two poems; indicating as it does the\r\nnature of those controversies, in matters subject to the supreme\r\ncontrol of the King and Queen of Love, which in the subsequent\r\npoem we find the courtiers, under the guise of birds, debating in\r\nfull conclave and under legal forms. Exceedingly simple in\r\nconception, and written in a metre full of musical irregularity\r\nand forcible freedom, \u201cThe Cuckoo and the Nightingale\u201d yields\r\nin vividness, delicacy, and grace to none of Chaucer\u2019s minor\r\npoems. We are told that the poet, on the third night of May, is\r\nsleepless, and rises early in the morning, to try if he may hear\r\nthe Nightingale sing. Wandering by a brook-side, he sits down\r\non the flowery lawn, and ere long, lulled by the sweet melody of\r\nmany birds and the well-according music of the stream, he falls\r\ninto a kind of doze \u2014 \u201cnot all asleep, nor fully waking.\u201d Then\r\n(an evil omen) he hears the Cuckoo sing before the Nightingale;\r\nbut soon he hears the Nightingale request the Cuckoo to\r\nremove far away, and leave the place to birds that can sing. The\r\nCuckoo enters into a defence of her song, which becomes a\r\nrailing accusation against Love and a recital of the miseries\r\nwhich Love\u2019s servants endure; the Nightingale vindicates Love\r\nin a lofty and tender strain, but is at last overcome with sorrow\r\nby the bitter words of the Cuckoo, and calls on the God of\r\nLove for help. On this the poet starts up, and, snatching a stone\r\nfrom the brook, throws it at the Cuckoo, who flies away full\r\nfast. The grateful Nightingale promises that, for this service, she\r\nwill be her champion\u2019s singer all that May; she warns him\r\nagainst believing the Cuckoo, the foe of Love; and then, having\r\nsung him one of her new songs, she flies away to all the other\r\nbirds that are in that dale, assembles them, and demands that\r\nthey should do her right upon the Cuckoo. By one assent it is\r\nagreed that a parliament shall be held, \u201cthe morrow after Saint\r\nValentine\u2019s Day,\u201d under a maple before the window of Queen\r\nPhilippa at Woodstock, when judgment shall be passed upon\r\nthe Cuckoo; then the Nightingale flies into a hawthorn, and\r\nsings a lay of love so loud that the poet awakes. The five-line\r\nstanza, of which the first, second, and fifth lines agree in one\r\nrhyme, the third and fourth in another, is peculiar to this poem;\r\nand while the prevailing measure is the decasyllabic line used in\r\nthe \u201cCanterbury Tales,\u201d many of the lines have one or two\r\nsyllables less. The poem is given here without abridgement.]\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was\r\nnot the author of this poem)\r\n\r\nTHE God of Love, ah! benedicite,\r\nHow mighty and how great a lord is he! <1>\r\nFor he can make of lowe heartes high,\r\nAnd of high low, and like for to die,\r\nAnd harde heartes he can make free.\r\n\r\nHe can make, within a little stound,*                            *moment\r\nOf sicke folke whole, and fresh, and sound,\r\nAnd of the whole he can make sick;\r\nHe can bind, and unbinden eke,\r\nWhat he will have bounden or unbound.\r\n\r\nTo tell his might my wit may not suffice;\r\nFor he can make of wise folk full nice,* \u2014                     *foolish\r\nFor he may do all that he will devise, \u2014\r\nAnd lither* folke to destroye vice,                       *idle, vicious\r\nAnd proude heartes he can make agrise.*                         *tremble\r\n\r\nShortly, all that ever he will he may;\r\nAgainst him dare no wight say nay;\r\nFor he can glad and grieve *whom him liketh.*          *whom he pleases*\r\nAnd who that he will, he laugheth or siketh,*                   *sigheth\r\nAnd most his might he sheddeth ever in May.\r\n\r\nFor every true gentle hearte free,\r\nThat with him is, or thinketh for to be,\r\nAgainst May now shall have some stirring,*                      *impulse\r\nEither to joy, or else to some mourning,\r\nIn no season so much, as thinketh me.\r\n\r\nFor when that they may hear the birdes sing,\r\nAnd see the flowers and the leaves spring,\r\nThat bringeth into hearte\u2019s remembrance\r\nA manner ease, *medled with grievance,*            *mingled with sorrow*\r\nAnd lusty thoughtes full of great longing.\r\n\r\nAnd of that longing cometh heaviness,\r\nAnd thereof groweth greate sickeness,\r\nAnd <2> for the lack of that that they desire:\r\nAnd thus in May be heartes set on fire,\r\nSo that they brennen* forth in great distress.                     *burn\r\n\r\nI speake this of feeling truely;\r\nIf I be old and unlusty,\r\nYet I have felt the sickness thorough May\r\n*Both hot and cold, an access ev\u2019ry day,*         *every day a hot and a\r\nHow sore, y-wis, there wot no wight but I.                     cold fit*\r\n\r\nI am so shaken with the fevers white,\r\nOf all this May sleep I but lite;*                               *little\r\nAnd also it is not like* unto me                               *pleasing\r\nThat any hearte shoulde sleepy be,\r\nIn whom that Love his fiery dart will smite,\r\n\r\nBut as I lay this other night waking,\r\nI thought how lovers had a tokening,*                      *significance\r\nAnd among them it was a common tale,\r\nThat it were good to hear the nightingale\r\nRather than the lewd cuckoo sing.\r\n\r\nAnd then I thought, anon* it was day,                          *whenever\r\nI would go somewhere to assay\r\nIf that I might a nightingale hear;\r\nFor yet had I none heard of all that year,\r\nAnd it was then the thirde night of May.\r\n\r\nAnd anon as I the day espied,\r\nNo longer would I in my bed abide;\r\nBut to a wood that was fast by,\r\nI went forth alone boldely,\r\nAnd held the way down by a brooke\u2019s side,\r\n\r\nTill I came to a laund* of white and green,                        *lawn\r\nSo fair a one had I never in been;\r\nThe ground was green, *y-powder\u2019d with daisy,*     *strewn with daisies*\r\nThe flowers and the *greves like high,*      *bushes of the same height*\r\nAll green and white; was nothing elles seen.\r\n\r\nThere sat I down among the faire flow\u2019rs,\r\nAnd saw the birdes trip out of their bow\u2019rs,\r\nThere as they rested them alle the night;\r\nThey were so joyful of the daye\u2019s light,\r\nThey began of May for to do honours.\r\n\r\nThey coud* that service all by rote;                               *knew\r\nThere was many a lovely note!\r\nSome sange loud as they had plain\u2019d,\r\nAnd some in other manner voice feign\u2019d,\r\nAnd some all out with the full throat.\r\n\r\nThey proined* them, and made them right gay,     *preened their feathers\r\nAnd danc\u2019d and leapt upon the spray;\r\nAnd evermore two and two in fere,*                             *together\r\nRight so as they had chosen them to-year*                     *this year\r\nIn Feverere* upon Saint Valentine\u2019s Day.                       *February\r\n\r\nAnd the river that I sat upon,*                                  *beside\r\nIt made such a noise as it ran,\r\nAccordant* with the birde\u2019s harmony,                  *keeping time with\r\nMe thought it was the beste melody\r\nThat might be heard of any man.\r\n\r\nAnd for delight, I wote never how,\r\nI fell in such a slumber and a swow, \u2014                           *swoon\r\nNot all asleep, nor fully waking, \u2014\r\nAnd in that swow me thought I hearde sing\r\nThe sorry bird, the lewd cuckow;\r\n\r\nAnd that was on a tree right faste by.\r\nBut who was then *evil apaid* but I?                       *dissatisfied\r\n\u201cNow God,\u201d quoth I, \u201cthat died on the crois,*                     *cross\r\nGive sorrow on thee, and on thy lewed voice!\r\nFull little joy have I now of thy cry.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd as I with the cuckoo thus gan chide,\r\nI heard, in the next bush beside,\r\nA nightingale so lustily sing,\r\nThat her clear voice she made ring\r\nThrough all the greenwood wide.\r\n\r\n\u201cAh, good Nightingale,\u201d quoth I then,\r\n\u201cA little hast thou been too long hen;*                   *hence, absent\r\nFor here hath been the lewd cuckow,\r\nAnd sung songs rather* than hast thou:                           *sooner\r\nI pray to God that evil fire her bren!\u201d*                           *burn\r\n\r\nBut now I will you tell a wondrous thing:\r\nAs long as I lay in that swooning,\r\nMe thought I wist what the birds meant,\r\nAnd what they said, and what was their intent\r\nAnd of their speech I hadde good knowing.\r\n\r\nThere heard I the nightingale say:\r\n\u201cNow, good Cuckoo, go somewhere away,\r\nAnd let us that can singe dwelle here;\r\nFor ev\u2019ry wight escheweth* thee to hear,                          *shuns\r\nThy songes be so elenge,* in good fay.\u201d**               *strange **faith\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat,\u201d quoth she, \u201cwhat may thee all now\r\nIt thinketh me, I sing as well as thou,\r\nFor my song is both true and plain,\r\nAlthough I cannot crakel* so in vain,                  *sing tremulously\r\nAs thou dost in thy throat, I wot ne\u2019er how.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd ev\u2019ry wight may understande me,\r\nBut, Nightingale, so may they not do thee,\r\nFor thou hast many a nice quaint* cry;                          *foolish\r\nI have thee heard say, \u2018ocy, ocy;\u2019 <3>\r\nHow might I know what that should be?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAh fool,\u201d quoth she, \u201cwost thou not what it is?\r\nWhen that I say, \u2018ocy, ocy,\u2019 y-wis,\r\nThen mean I that I woulde wonder fain\r\nThat all they were shamefully slain,                                *die\r\nThat meanen aught againe love amiss.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd also I would that all those were dead,\r\nThat thinke not in love their life to lead,\r\nFor who so will the god of Love not serve,\r\nI dare well say he is worthy to sterve,*                            *die\r\nAnd for that skill,* \u2018ocy, ocy,\u2019 I grede.\u201d**               *reason **cry\r\n\r\n\u201cEy!\u201d quoth the cuckoo, \u201cthis is a quaint* law,                 *strange\r\nThat every wight shall love or be to-draw!*              *torn to pieces\r\nBut I forsake alle such company;\r\nFor mine intent is not for to die,\r\nNor ever, while I live, *on Love\u2019s yoke to draw.*      *to put on love\u2019s\r\n                                                                   yoke*\r\n\u201cFor lovers be the folk that be alive,\r\nThat most disease have, and most unthrive,*                  *misfortune\r\nAnd most endure sorrow, woe, and care,\r\nAnd leaste feelen of welfare:\r\nWhat needeth it against the truth to strive?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat?\u201d quoth she, \u201cthou art all out of thy mind!\r\nHow mightest thou in thy churlishness find\r\nTo speak of Love\u2019s servants in this wise?\r\nFor in this world is none so good service\r\nTo ev\u2019ry wight that gentle is of kind;\r\n\r\n\u201cFor thereof truly cometh all gladness,\r\nAll honour and all gentleness,\r\nWorship, ease, and all hearte\u2019s lust,*                         *pleasure\r\nPerfect joy, and full assured trust,\r\nJollity, pleasance, and freshness,\r\n\r\n\u201cLowlihead, largess, and courtesy,\r\nSeemelihead, and true company,\r\nDread of shame for to do amiss;\r\nFor he that truly Love\u2019s servant is,\r\nWere lother* to be shamed than to die.                   *more reluctant\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd that this is sooth that I say,\r\nIn that belief I will live and dey;\r\nAnd, Cuckoo, so I rede* that thou, do y-wis.\u201d                   *counsel\r\n\u201cThen,\u201d quoth he, \u201clet me never have bliss,\r\nIf ever I to that counsail obey!\r\n\r\n\u201cNightingale, thou speakest wondrous fair,\r\nBut, for all that, is the sooth contrair;\r\nFor love is in young folk but rage,\r\nAnd in old folk a great dotage;\r\nWho most it useth, moste shall enpair.*                     *suffer harm\r\n\r\n\u201cFor thereof come disease and heaviness,\r\nSorrow and care, and many a great sickness,\r\nDespite, debate, anger, envy,\r\nDepraving,* shame, untrust, and jealousy,     *loss of fame or character\r\nPride, mischief, povert\u2019, and woodness.*                        *madness\r\n\r\n\u201cLoving is an office of despair,\r\nAnd one thing is therein that is not fair;\r\nFor who that gets of love a little bliss,\r\n*But if he be away therewith, y-wis,\r\nHe may full soon of age have his hair.*                   *see note <5>*\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, Nightingale, therefore hold thee nigh;\r\nFor, \u2019lieve me well, for all thy quainte cry,\r\nIf thou be far or longe from thy make,*                            *mate\r\nThou shalt be as other that be forsake,\r\nAnd then thou shalt hoten* as do I.\u201d                          *be called\r\n\r\n\u201cFie,\u201d quoth she, \u201con thy name and on thee!\r\nThe god of Love let thee never the!*                             *thrive\r\nFor thou art worse a thousand fold than wood,*                      *mad\r\nFor many one is full worthy and full good,\r\nThat had been naught, ne hadde Love y-be.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor evermore Love his servants amendeth,\r\nAnd from all evile taches* them defendeth,                    *blemishes\r\nAnd maketh them to burn right in a fire,\r\nIn truth and in worshipful* desire,                          *honourable\r\nAnd, when him liketh, joy enough them sendeth.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThou Nightingale,\u201d he said, \u201cbe still!\r\nFor Love hath no reason but his will;\r\nFor ofttime untrue folk he easeth,\r\nAnd true folk so bitterly displeaseth,\r\nThat for default of grace* he lets them spill.\u201d**    *favour **be ruined\r\n\r\nThen took I of the nightingale keep,\r\nHow she cast a sigh out of her deep,\r\nAnd said, \u201cAlas, that ever I was bore!\r\nI can for teen* not say one worde more;\u201d                *vexation, grief\r\nAnd right with that word she burst out to weep.\r\n\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201cmy hearte will to-break\r\nTo heare thus this lewd bird speak\r\nOf Love, and of his worshipful service.\r\nNow, God of Love, thou help me in some wise,\r\nThat I may on this cuckoo be awreak!\u201d*                         *revenged\r\n\r\nMethought then I start up anon,\r\nAnd to the brook I ran and got a stone,\r\nAnd at the cuckoo heartly cast;\r\nAnd for dread he flew away full fast,\r\nAnd glad was I when he was gone.\r\n\r\nAnd evermore the cuckoo, as he flay,*                              *flew\r\nHe saide, \u201cFarewell, farewell, popinjay,\u201d\r\nAs though he had scorned, thought me;\r\nBut ay I hunted him from the tree,\r\nUntil he was far out of sight away.\r\n\r\nAnd then came the nightingale to me,\r\nAnd said, \u201cFriend, forsooth I thank thee\r\nThat thou hast lik\u2019d me to rescow;*                              *rescue\r\nAnd one avow to Love make I now,\r\nThat all this May I will thy singer be.\u201d\r\n\r\nI thanked her, and was right *well apaid:*                    *satisfied\r\n\u201cYea,\u201d quoth she, \u201cand be thou not dismay\u2019d,\r\nThough thou have heard the cuckoo *erst than* me; <6>            *before\r\nFor, if I live, it shall amended be\r\nThe next May, if I be not afraid.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd one thing I will rede* thee also,\r\nBelieve thou not the cuckoo, the love\u2019s foe,\r\nFor all that he hath said is strong leasing.\u201d*                *falsehood\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth I, \u201cthereto shall nothing me bring\r\nFor love, and it hath done me much woe.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYea? Use,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthis medicine,\r\nEvery day this May ere thou dine:\r\nGo look upon the fresh daisy,\r\nAnd, though thou be for woe in point to die,\r\nThat shall full greatly less thee of thy pine.*                  *sorrow\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd look alway that thou be good and true,\r\nAnd I will sing one of my songes new\r\nFor love of thee, as loud as I may cry:\u201d\r\nAnd then she began this song full high:\r\n\u201cI shrew* all them that be of love untrue.\u201d                       *curse\r\n\r\nAnd when she had sung it to the end,\r\n\u201cNow farewell,\u201d quoth she, \u201cfor I must wend,*                        *go\r\n And, God of Love, that can right well and may,\r\nAs much joy sende thee this day,\r\nAs any lover yet he ever send!\u201d\r\n\r\nThus took the nightingale her leave of me.\r\nI pray to God alway with her be,\r\nAnd joy of love he send her evermore,\r\nAnd shield us from the cuckoo and his lore;\r\nFor there is not so false a bird as he.\r\n\r\nForth she flew, the gentle nightingale,\r\nTo all the birdes that were in that dale,\r\nAnd got them all into a place in fere,*                        *together\r\nAnd besought them that they would hear\r\nHer disease,* and thus began her tale.              *distress, grievance\r\n\r\n\u201cYe witte* well, it is not for to hide,                            *know\r\nHow the cuckoo and I fast have chide,*                       *quarrelled\r\nEver since that it was daylight;\r\nI pray you all that ye do me right\r\nOn that foul false unkind bride.\u201d*                                 *bird\r\n\r\nThen spake one bird for all, by one assent:\r\n\u201cThis matter asketh good advisement;\r\nFor we be fewe birdes here in fere,\r\nAnd sooth it is, the cuckoo is not here,\r\nAnd therefore we will have a parlement.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd thereat shall the eagle be our lord,\r\nAnd other peers that been *of record,*        *of established authority*\r\nAnd the cuckoo shall be *after sent;*                          *summoned\r\nThere shall be given the judgment,\r\nOr else we shall finally *make accord.*                  *be reconciled*\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd this shall be, withoute nay,*                        *contradiction\r\nThe morrow after Saint Valentine\u2019s Day,\r\nUnder a maple that is fair and green,\r\nBefore the chamber window of the Queen, <7>\r\nAt Woodstock upon the green lay.\u201d*                                 *lawn\r\n\r\nShe thanked them, and then her leave took,\r\nAnd into a hawthorn by that brook,\r\nAnd there she sat and sang upon that tree,\r\n*\u201cTerm of life love hath withhold me;\u201d*             *love hath me in her\r\nSo loude, that I with that song awoke.              service all my life*\r\n\r\nExplicit.*                                                      *The End\r\n\r\nThe Author to His Book.\r\n\r\nO LEWD book! with thy foul rudeness,\r\nSince thou hast neither beauty nor eloquence,\r\nWho hath thee caus\u2019d or giv\u2019n the hardiness\r\nFor to appear in my lady\u2019s presence?\r\nI am full sicker* thou know\u2019st her benevolence,                 *certain\r\nFull agreeable to all her abying,*                                *merit\r\nFor of all good she is the best living.\r\n\r\nAlas! that thou ne haddest worthiness,\r\nTo show to her some pleasant sentence,\r\nSince that she hath, thorough her gentleness,\r\nAccepted thee servant to her dign reverence!\r\nO! me repenteth that I n\u2019had science,\r\nAnd leisure als\u2019, t\u2019make thee more flourishing,\r\nFor of all good she is the best living.\r\n\r\nBeseech her meekly with all lowliness,\r\nThough I be ferre* from her in absence,                             *far\r\nTo think on my truth to her and steadfastness,\r\nAnd to abridge of my sorrows the violence,\r\nWhich caused is whereof knoweth your sapience;*                  *wisdom\r\nShe like among to notify me her liking,\r\nFor of all good she is the best living.\r\n\r\nExplicit.\r\n\r\nL\u2019Envoy; To the Author\u2019s Lady.\r\n\r\nAurore of gladness, day of lustiness,\r\nLucern* at night with heav\u2019nly influence                           *lamp\r\nIllumin\u2019d, root of beauty and goodness,\r\nSuspires* which I effund** in silence!               *sighs **pour forth\r\nOf grace I beseech, allege* let your writing                    *declare\r\nNow of all good, since ye be best living.\r\n\r\nExplicit.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Cuckoo and the Nightingale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. These two lines occur also in The Knight\u2019s Tale; they\r\ncommence the speech of Theseus on the love follies of Palamon\r\nand Arcite, whom the Duke has just found fighting in the forest.\r\n\r\n2. A stronger reading is \u201call.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. \u201cOcy, ocy,\u201d is supposed to come from the Latin \u201coccidere,\u201d\r\nto kill; or rather the old French, \u201coccire,\u201d \u201coccis,\u201d denoting the\r\ndoom which the nightingale imprecates or supplicates on all\r\nwho do offence to Love.\r\n\r\n4. Grede: cry; Italian, \u201cgrido.\u201d\r\n\r\n5.\u201dBut if he be away therewith, y-wis,\r\nHe may full soon of age have his hair\u201d:\r\nUnless he be always fortunate in love pursuits, he may full soon\r\nhave gray hair, through his anxieties.\r\n\r\n6. It was of evil omen to hear the cuckoo before the nightingale\r\nor any other bird.\r\n\r\n7. The Queen: Philippa of Hainault, wife of Edward III.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE ASSEMBLY OF FOWLS.\r\n\r\n\r\n[In \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls\u201d \u2014 which Chaucer\u2019s \u201cRetractation\u201d\r\ndescribes as \u201cThe Book of Saint Valentine\u2019s Day, or of the\r\nParliament of Birds\u201d \u2014 we are presented with a picture of the\r\nmediaeval \u201cCourt of Love\u201d far closer to the reality than we find\r\nin Chaucer\u2019s poem which bears that express title. We have a\r\nregularly constituted conclave or tribunal, under a president\r\nwhose decisions are final. A difficult question is proposed for\r\nthe consideration and judgment of the Court \u2014 the disputants\r\nadvancing and vindicating their claims in person. The attendants\r\nupon the Court, through specially chosen mouthpieces, deliver\r\ntheir opinions on the cause; and finally a decision is\r\nauthoritatively pronounced by the president \u2014 which, as in\r\nmany of the cases actually judged before the Courts of Love in\r\nFrance, places the reasonable and modest wish of a sensitive\r\nand chaste lady above all the eagerness of her lovers, all the\r\nincongruous counsels of representative courtiers. So far,\r\ntherefore, as the poem reproduces the characteristic features of\r\nprocedure in those romantic Middle Age halls of amatory\r\njustice, Chaucer\u2019s \u201cAssembly of Fowls\u201d is his real \u201cCourt of\r\nLove;\u201d for although, in the castle and among the courtiers of\r\nAdmetus and Alcestis, we have all the personages and\r\nmachinery necessary for one of those erotic contentions, in the\r\npresent poem we see the personages and the machinery actually\r\nat work, upon another scene and under other guises. The\r\nallegory which makes the contention arise out of the loves, and\r\nproceed in the assembly, of the feathered race, is quite in\r\nkeeping with the fanciful yet nature-loving spirit of the poetry\r\nof Chaucer\u2019s time, in which the influence of the Troubadours\r\nwas still largely present. It is quite in keeping, also, with the\r\nprinciples that regulated the Courts, the purpose of which was\r\nmore to discuss and determine the proper conduct of love\r\naffairs, than to secure conviction or acquittal, sanction or\r\nreprobation, in particular cases \u2014 though the jurisdiction and\r\nthe judgments of such assemblies often closely concerned\r\nindividuals. Chaucer introduces us to his main theme through\r\nthe vestibule of a fancied dream \u2014 a method which be\r\nrepeatedly employs with great relish, as for instance in \u201cThe\r\nHouse of Fame.\u201d He has spent the whole day over Cicero\u2019s\r\naccount of the Dream of Scipio (Africanus the Younger); and,\r\nhaving gone to bed, he dreams that Africanus the Elder appears\r\nto him \u2014 just as in the book he appeared to his namesake \u2014 and\r\ncarries him into a beautiful park, in which is a fair garden by a\r\nriver-side. Here the poet is led into a splendid temple, through a\r\ncrowd of courtiers allegorically representing the various\r\ninstruments, pleasures, emotions, and encouragements of Love;\r\nand in the temple Venus herself is found, sporting with her\r\nporter Richess. Returning into the garden, he sees the Goddess\r\nof Nature seated on a hill of flowers; and before her are\r\nassembled all the birds \u2014 for it is Saint Valentine\u2019s Day, when\r\nevery fowl chooses her mate. Having with a graphic touch\r\nenumerated and described the principal birds, the poet sees that\r\non her hand Nature bears a female eagle of surpassing loveliness\r\nand virtue, for which three male eagles advance contending\r\nclaims. The disputation lasts all day; and at evening the\r\nassembled birds, eager to be gone with their mates, clamour for\r\na decision. The tercelet, the goose, the cuckoo, and the turtle \u2014\r\nfor birds of prey, water-fowl, worm-fowl, and seed-fowl\r\nrespectively \u2014 pronounce their verdicts on the dispute, in\r\nspeeches full of character and humour; but Nature refers the\r\ndecision between the three claimants to the female eagle herself,\r\nwho prays that she may have a year\u2019s respite. Nature grants the\r\nprayer, pronounces judgment accordingly, and dismisses the\r\nassembly; and after a chosen choir has sung a roundel in honour\r\nof the Goddess, all the birds fly away, and the poet awakes. It is\r\nprobable that Chaucer derived the idea of the poem from a\r\nFrench source; Mr Bell gives the outline of a fabliau, of which\r\nthree versions existed, and in which a contention between two\r\nladies regarding the merits of their respective lovers, a knight\r\nand a clerk, is decided by Cupid in a Court composed of birds,\r\nwhich assume their sides according to their different natures.\r\nWhatever the source of the idea, its management, and the whole\r\nworkmanship of the poem, especially in the more humorous\r\npassages, are essentially Chaucer\u2019s own.]\r\n\r\nTHE life so short, the craft so long to learn,\r\nTh\u2019assay so hard, so sharp the conquering,\r\nThe dreadful joy, alway that *flits so yern;*           *fleets so fast*\r\nAll this mean I by* Love, that my feeling             *with reference to\r\nAstoneth* with his wonderful working,                            *amazes\r\nSo sore, y-wis, that, when I on him think,\r\nNaught wit I well whether I fleet* or sink,                       *float\r\n\r\nFor *all be* that I know not Love indeed,             *albeit, although*\r\nNor wot how that he *quiteth folk their hire,*         *rewards folk for\r\nYet happeth me full oft in books to read                  their service*\r\nOf his miracles, and of his cruel ire;\r\nThere read I well, he will be lord and sire;\r\nI dare not saye, that his strokes be sore;\r\nBut God save such a lord! I can no more.\r\n\r\nOf usage, what for lust and what for lore,\r\nOn bookes read I oft, as I you told.\r\nBut wherefore speak I alle this? Not yore\r\nAgone, it happed me for to behold\r\nUpon a book written with letters old;\r\nAnd thereupon, a certain thing to learn,\r\nThe longe day full fast I read and yern.*                       *eagerly\r\n\r\nFor out of the old fieldes, as men saith,\r\nCometh all this new corn, from year to year;\r\nAnd out of olde bookes, in good faith,\r\nCometh all this new science that men lear.*                       *learn\r\nBut now to purpose as of this mattere:\r\nTo reade forth it gan me so delight,\r\nThat all the day me thought it but a lite.*                *little while\r\n\r\nThis book, of which I make mention,\r\nEntitled was right thus, as I shall tell;\r\n\u201cTullius, of the Dream of Scipion:\u201d <1>\r\nChapters seven it had, of heav\u2019n, and hell,\r\nAnd earth, and soules that therein do dwell;\r\nOf which, as shortly as I can it treat,\r\nOf his sentence I will you say the great.*               *important part\r\n\r\nFirst telleth it, when Scipio was come\r\nTo Africa, how he met Massinisse,\r\nThat him for joy in armes hath y-nome.*                       *taken <2>\r\nThen telleth he their speech, and all the bliss\r\nThat was between them till the day gan miss.*                      *fail\r\nAnd how his ancestor Africane so dear\r\nGan in his sleep that night to him appear.\r\n\r\nThen telleth it, that from a starry place\r\nHow Africane hath him Carthage y-shew\u2019d,\r\nAnd warned him before of all his grace, <3>\r\nAnd said him, what man, learned either lewd,*                  *ignorant\r\nThat loveth *common profit,* well y-thew\u2019d,       *the public advantage*\r\nHe should unto a blissful place wend,*                               *go\r\nWhere as the joy is without any end.\r\n\r\nThen asked he,* if folk that here be dead       *i.e. the younger Scipio\r\nHave life, and dwelling, in another place?\r\nAnd Africane said, \u201cYea, withoute dread;\u201d*                        *doubt\r\nAnd how our present worldly lives\u2019 space\r\nMeant but a manner death, <4> what way we trace;\r\nAnd rightful folk should go, after they die,\r\nTo Heav\u2019n; and showed him the galaxy.\r\n\r\nThen show\u2019d he him the little earth that here is,\r\n*To regard* the heaven\u2019s quantity;                   *by comparison with\r\nAnd after show\u2019d he him the nine spheres; <5>\r\nAnd after that the melody heard he,\r\nThat cometh of those spheres thrice three,\r\nThat wells of music be and melody\r\nIn this world here, and cause of harmony.\r\n\r\nThen said he him, since earthe was so lite,*                      *small\r\nAnd full of torment and of *harde grace,*                  *evil fortune\r\nThat he should not him in this world delight.\r\nThen told he him, in certain yeares\u2019 space,\r\nThat ev\u2019ry star should come into his place,\r\nWhere it was first; and all should *out of mind,*   *perish from memory*\r\nThat in this world is done of all mankind.\r\n\r\nThen pray\u2019d him Scipio, to tell him all\r\nThe way to come into that Heaven\u2019s bliss;\r\nAnd he said: \u201cFirst know thyself immortal,\r\nAnd look aye busily that thou work and wiss*              *guide affairs\r\nTo common profit, and thou shalt not miss\r\nTo come swiftly unto that place dear,\r\nThat full of bliss is, and of soules clear.*                  *noble <6>\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd breakers of the law, the sooth to sayn,\r\nAnd likerous* folk, after that they be dead,                  *lecherous\r\nShall whirl about the world always in pain,\r\nTill many a world be passed, *out of dread;*             *without doubt*\r\nAnd then, forgiven all their wicked deed,\r\nThey shalle come unto that blissful place,\r\nTo which to come God thee sende grace!\u201d\r\n\r\nThe day gan failen, and the darke night,\r\nThat reaveth* beastes from their business,                  *taketh away\r\nBerefte me my book for lack of light,\r\nAnd to my bed I gan me for to dress,*                           *prepare\r\nFull fill\u2019d of thought and busy heaviness;\r\nFor both I hadde thing which that I n\u2019old,*                   *would not\r\nAnd eke I had not that thing that I wo\u2019ld.\r\n\r\nBut, finally, my spirit at the last,\r\nForweary* of my labour all that day,                    *utterly wearied\r\nTook rest, that made me to sleepe fast;\r\nAnd in my sleep I mette,* as that I say,                        *dreamed\r\nHow Africane, right in the *self array*                      *same garb*\r\nThat Scipio him saw before that tide,*                             *time\r\nWas come, and stood right at my bedde\u2019s side.\r\n\r\nThe weary hunter, sleeping in his bed,\r\nTo wood again his mind goeth anon;\r\nThe judge dreameth how his pleas be sped;\r\nThe carter dreameth how his cartes go\u2019n;\r\nThe rich of gold, the knight fights with his fone;*                *foes\r\nThe sicke mette he drinketh of the tun; <7>\r\nThe lover mette he hath his lady won.\r\n\r\nI cannot say, if that the cause were,\r\nFor* I had read of Africane beforn,                             *because\r\nThat made me to mette that he stood there;\r\nBut thus said he; \u201cThou hast thee so well borne\r\nIn looking of mine old book all to-torn,\r\nOf which Macrobius *raught not a lite,*            *recked not a little*\r\nThat *somedeal of thy labour would I quite.\u201d*    *I would reward you for\r\n                                                    some of your labour*\r\nCytherea, thou blissful Lady sweet!\r\nThat with thy firebrand dauntest *when thee lest,*     *when you please*\r\nThat madest me this sweven* for to mette,                         *dream\r\nBe thou my help in this, for thou may\u2019st best!\r\nAs wisly* as I saw the north-north-west, <8>                     *surely\r\nWhen I began my sweven for to write,\r\nSo give me might to rhyme it and endite.*                    *write down\r\n\r\nThis foresaid Africane me hent* anon,                              *took\r\nAnd forth with him unto a gate brought\r\nRight of a park, walled with greene stone;\r\nAnd o\u2019er the gate, with letters large y-wrought,\r\nThere were verses written, as me thought,\r\nOn either half, of full great difference,\r\nOf which I shall you say the plain sentence.*                   *meaning\r\n\r\n\u201cThrough me men go into the blissful place <9>\r\nOf hearte\u2019s heal and deadly woundes\u2019 cure;\r\nThrough me men go unto the well of grace;\r\nWhere green and lusty May shall ever dure;\r\nThis is the way to all good adventure;\r\nBe glad, thou reader, and thy sorrow off cast;\r\nAll open am I; pass in and speed thee fast.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThrough me men go,\u201d thus spake the other side,\r\n\u201cUnto the mortal strokes of the spear,\r\nOf which disdain and danger is the guide;\r\nThere never tree shall fruit nor leaves bear;\r\nThis stream you leadeth to the sorrowful weir,\r\nWhere as the fish in prison is all dry; <10>\r\nTh\u2019eschewing is the only remedy.\u201d\r\n\r\nThese verses of gold and azure written were,\r\nOn which I gan astonish\u2019d to behold;\r\nFor with that one increased all my fear,\r\nAnd with that other gan my heart to bold;*                 *take courage\r\nThat one me het,* that other did me cold;                        *heated\r\nNo wit had I, for error,* for to choose           *perplexity, confusion\r\nTo enter or fly, or me to save or lose.\r\n\r\nRight as betwixten adamantes* two                               *magnets\r\nOf even weight, a piece of iron set,\r\nNe hath no might to move to nor fro;\r\nFor what the one may hale,* the other let;**         *attract **restrain\r\nSo far\u2019d I, that *n\u2019ist whether me was bet*     *knew not whether it was\r\nT\u2019 enter or leave, till Africane, my guide,               better for me*\r\nMe hent* and shov\u2019d in at the gates wide.                        *caught\r\n\r\nAnd said, \u201cIt standeth written in thy face,\r\nThine error,* though thou tell it not to me;      *perplexity, confusion\r\nBut dread thou not to come into this place;\r\nFor this writing *is nothing meant by* thee,         *does not refer to*\r\nNor by none, but* he Love\u2019s servant be;                          *unless\r\nFor thou of Love hast lost thy taste, I guess,\r\nAs sick man hath of sweet and bitterness.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut natheless, although that thou be dull,\r\nThat thou canst not do, yet thou mayest see;\r\nFor many a man that may not stand a pull,\r\nYet likes it him at wrestling for to be,\r\nAnd deeme* whether he doth bet,** or he;                 *judge **better\r\nAnd, if thou haddest cunning* to endite,                          *skill\r\nI shall thee showe matter *of to write.\u201d*               *to write about*\r\n\r\nWith that my hand in his he took anon,\r\nOf which I comfort caught,* and went in fast.                      *took\r\nBut, Lord! so I was glad and  well-begone!*                   *fortunate\r\nFor *over all,* where I my eyen cast,                       *everywhere*\r\nWere trees y-clad with leaves that ay shall last,\r\nEach in his kind, with colour fresh and green\r\nAs emerald, that joy it was to see\u2019n.\r\n\r\nThe builder oak; and eke the hardy ash;\r\nThe pillar elm, the coffer unto carrain;\r\nThe box, pipe tree; the holm, to whippe\u2019s lash\r\nThe sailing fir; the cypress death to plain;\r\nThe shooter yew; the aspe for shaftes plain;\r\nTh\u2019olive of peace, and eke the drunken vine;\r\nThe victor palm; the laurel, too, divine. <11>\r\n\r\nA garden saw I, full of blossom\u2019d boughes,\r\nUpon a river, in a greene mead,\r\nWhere as sweetness evermore enow is,\r\nWith flowers white, blue, yellow, and red,\r\nAnd colde welle* streames, nothing dead,                       *fountain\r\nThat swamme full of smalle fishes light,\r\nWith finnes red, and scales silver bright.\r\n\r\nOn ev\u2019ry bough the birdes heard I sing,\r\nWith voice of angels in their harmony,\r\nThat busied them their birdes forth to bring;\r\nThe pretty conies* to their play gan hie;               *rabbits **haste\r\nAnd further all about I gan espy\r\nThe dreadful* roe, the buck, the hart, and hind,                  *timid\r\nSquirrels, and beastes small, of gentle kind.*                   *nature\r\n\r\nOf instruments of stringes in accord\r\nHeard I so play a ravishing sweetness,\r\nThat God, that Maker is of all and Lord,\r\nNe hearde never better, as I guess:\r\nTherewith a wind, unneth* it might be less,                    *scarcely\r\nMade in the leaves green a noise soft,\r\nAccordant* the fowles\u2019 song on loft.**          *in keeping with **above\r\n\r\nTh\u2019air of the place so attemper* was,                              *mild\r\nThat ne\u2019er was there grievance* of hot nor cold;              *annoyance\r\nThere was eke ev\u2019ry wholesome spice and grass,\r\nNor no man may there waxe sick nor old:\r\nYet* was there more joy a thousand fold                        *moreover\r\nThan I can tell, or ever could or might;\r\nThere ever is clear day, and never night.\r\n\r\nUnder a tree, beside a well, I sey*                                 *saw\r\nCupid our lord his arrows forge and file;*                       *polish\r\nAnd at his feet his bow all ready lay;\r\nAnd well his daughter temper\u2019d, all the while,\r\nThe heades in the well; and with her wile*                   *cleverness\r\nShe couch\u2019d* them after, as they shoulde serve        *arranged in order\r\nSome for to slay, and some to wound and kerve.*              *carve, cut\r\n\r\nThen was I ware of Pleasance anon right,\r\nAnd of Array, and Lust, and Courtesy,\r\nAnd of the Craft, that can and hath the might\r\nTo do* by force a wight to do folly;                               *make\r\nDisfigured* was she, I will not lie;                          *disguised\r\nAnd by himself, under an oak, I guess,\r\nSaw I Delight, that stood with Gentleness.\r\n\r\nThen saw I Beauty, with a nice attire,\r\nAnd Youthe, full of game and jollity,\r\nFoolhardiness, Flattery, and Desire,\r\nMessagerie, and Meed, and other three; <12>\r\nTheir names shall not here be told for me:\r\nAnd upon pillars great of jasper long\r\nI saw a temple of brass y-founded strong.\r\n\r\nAnd [all] about the temple danc\u2019d alway\r\nWomen enough, of whiche some there were\r\nFair of themselves, and some of them were gay\r\nIn kirtles* all dishevell\u2019d went they there;                     *tunics\r\nThat was their office* ever, from year to year;        *duty, occupation\r\nAnd on the temple saw I, white and fair,\r\nOf doves sitting many a thousand pair. <13>\r\n\r\nBefore the temple door, full soberly,\r\nDame Peace sat, a curtain in her hand;\r\nAnd her beside, wonder discreetely,\r\nDame Patience sitting there I fand,*                              *found\r\nWith face pale, upon a hill of sand;\r\nAnd althernext, within and eke without,\r\nBehest,* and Art, and of their folk a rout.**           *Promise **crowd\r\n\r\nWithin the temple, of sighes hot as fire\r\nI heard a swough,* that gan aboute ren,**                  *murmur **run\r\nWhich sighes were engender\u2019d with desire,\r\nThat made every hearte for to bren*                                *burn\r\nOf newe flame; and well espied I then,\r\nThat all the cause of sorrows that they dree*                    *endure\r\nCame of the bitter goddess Jealousy.\r\n\r\nThe God Priapus <14> saw I, as I went\r\nWithin the temple, in sov\u2019reign place stand,\r\nIn such array, as when the ass him shent* <15>                   *ruined\r\nWith cry by night, and with sceptre in hand:\r\nFull busily men gan assay and fand*                           *endeavour\r\nUpon his head to set, of sundry hue,\r\nGarlandes full of freshe flowers new.\r\n\r\nAnd in a privy corner, in disport,\r\nFound I Venus and her porter Richess,\r\nThat was full noble and hautain* of her port;              *haughty <16>\r\nDark was that place, but afterward lightness\r\nI saw a little, unneth* it might be less;                      *scarcely\r\nAnd on a bed of gold she lay to rest,\r\nTill that the hote sun began to west.*         *decline towards the wesr\r\n\r\nHer gilded haires with a golden thread\r\nY-bounden were, untressed,* as she lay;                           *loose\r\nAnd naked from the breast unto the head\r\nMen might her see; and, soothly for to say,\r\nThe remnant cover\u2019d, welle to my pay,*                *satisfaction <17>\r\nRight with a little kerchief of Valence;<18>\r\nThere was no thicker clothe of defence.\r\n\r\nThe place gave a thousand savours swoot;*                         *sweet\r\nAnd Bacchus, god of wine, sat her beside;\r\nAnd Ceres next, that *doth of hunger boot;*<19>        *relieves hunger*\r\nAnd, as I said, amiddes* lay Cypride, <20>                 *in the midst\r\nTo whom on knees the younge folke cried\r\nTo be their help: but thus I let her lie,\r\nAnd farther in the temple gan espy,\r\n\r\n<See note 21 for the stories of the lovers in\r\nthe next two stanzas>\r\n\r\nThat, in despite of Diana the chaste,\r\nFull many a bowe broke hung on the wall,\r\nOf maidens, such as go their time to waste\r\nIn her service: and painted over all\r\nOf many a story, of which I touche shall\r\nA few, as of Calist\u2019, and Atalant\u2019,\r\nAnd many a maid, of which the name I want.*                 *do not have\r\n\r\nSemiramis, Canace, and Hercules,\r\nBiblis, Dido, Thisbe and Pyramus,\r\nTristram, Isoude, Paris, and Achilles,\r\nHelena, Cleopatra, Troilus,\r\nScylla, and eke the mother of Romulus;\r\nAll these were painted on the other side,\r\nAnd all their love, and in what plight they died.\r\n\r\nWhen I was come again into the place\r\nThat I of spake, that was so sweet and green,\r\nForth walk\u2019d I then, myselfe to solace:\r\nThen was I ware where there sat a queen,\r\nThat, as of light the summer Sunne sheen\r\nPasseth the star, right so *over measure*        *out of all proportion*\r\nShe fairer was than any creature.\r\n\r\nAnd in a lawn, upon a hill of flowers,\r\nWas set this noble goddess of Nature;\r\nOf branches were her halles and her bowers\r\nY-wrought, after her craft and her measure;\r\nNor was there fowl that comes of engendrure\r\nThat there ne were prest,* in her presence,                  *ready <22>\r\nTo *take her doom,* and give her audience.        *receive her decision*\r\n\r\nFor this was on Saint Valentine\u2019s Day,\r\nWhen ev\u2019ry fowl cometh to choose her make,*                        *mate\r\nOf every kind that men thinken may;\r\nAnd then so huge a noise gan they make,\r\nThat earth, and sea, and tree, and ev\u2019ry lake,\r\nSo full was, that unnethes* there was space                    *scarcely\r\nFor me to stand, so full was all the place.\r\n\r\nAnd right as Alain, in his Plaint of Kind, <23>\r\nDeviseth* Nature of such array and face;                     *describeth\r\nIn such array men mighte her there find.\r\nThis noble Emperess, full of all grace,\r\nBade ev\u2019ry fowle take her owen place,\r\nAs they were wont alway, from year to year,\r\nOn Saint Valentine\u2019s Day to stande there.\r\n\r\nThat is to say, the *fowles of ravine*                   *birds of prey*\r\nWere highest set, and then the fowles smale,\r\nThat eaten as them Nature would incline;\r\nAs worme-fowl, of which I tell no tale;\r\nBut waterfowl sat lowest in the dale,\r\nAnd fowls that live by seed sat on the green,\r\nAnd that so many, that wonder was to see\u2019n.\r\n\r\nThere mighte men the royal eagle find,\r\nThat with his sharpe look pierceth the Sun;\r\nAnd other eagles of a lower kind,\r\nOf which that *clerkes well devise con;*            *which scholars well\r\nThere was the tyrant with his feathers dun                 can describe*\r\nAnd green, I mean the goshawk, that doth pine*               *cause pain\r\nTo birds, for his outrageous ravine.*                  *slaying, hunting\r\n\r\nThe gentle falcon, that with his feet distraineth*               *grasps\r\nThe kinge\u2019s hand; <24> the hardy* sperhawk eke,                    *pert\r\nThe quaile\u2019s foe; the merlion <25> that paineth\r\nHimself full oft the larke for to seek;\r\nThere was the dove, with her eyen meek;\r\nThe jealous swan, against* his death that singeth;   *in anticipation of\r\nThe owl eke, that of death the bode* bringeth.                     *omen\r\n\r\nThe crane, the giant, with his trumpet soun\u2019;\r\nThe thief the chough; and eke the chatt\u2019ring pie;\r\nThe scorning jay; <26> the eel\u2019s foe the heroun;\r\nThe false lapwing, full of treachery; <27>\r\nThe starling, that the counsel can betray;\r\nThe tame ruddock,* and the coward kite;                 *robin-redbreast\r\nThe cock, that horologe* is of *thorpes lite.*  *clock *little villages*\r\n\r\nThe sparrow, Venus\u2019 son; <28> the nightingale,\r\nThat calleth forth the freshe leaves new; <29>\r\nThe swallow, murd\u2019rer of the bees smale,\r\nThat honey make of flowers fresh of hue;\r\nThe wedded turtle, with his hearte true;\r\nThe peacock, with his angel feathers bright; <30>\r\nThe pheasant, scorner of the cock by night; <31>\r\n\r\nThe waker goose; <32> the cuckoo ever unkind; <33>\r\nThe popinjay,* full of delicacy;                                 *parrot\r\nThe drake, destroyer of his owen kind; <34>\r\nThe stork, the wreaker* of adultery; <35>                       *avenger\r\nThe hot cormorant, full of gluttony; <36>\r\nThe raven and the crow, with voice of care; <37>\r\nThe throstle old;* and the frosty fieldfare.<38>             *long-lived\r\n\r\nWhat should I say? Of fowls of ev\u2019ry kind\r\nThat in this world have feathers and stature,\r\nMen mighten in that place assembled find,\r\nBefore that noble goddess of Nature;\r\nAnd each of them did all his busy cure*                     *care, pains\r\nBenignely to choose, or for to take,\r\nBy her accord,* his formel <39> or his make.**           *consent **mate\r\n\r\nBut to the point. Nature held on her hand\r\nA formel eagle, of shape the gentilest\r\nThat ever she among her workes fand,\r\nThe most benign, and eke the goodliest;\r\nIn her was ev\u2019ry virtue at its rest,*                     *highest point\r\nSo farforth that Nature herself had bliss\r\nTo look on her, and oft her beak to kiss.\r\n\r\nNature, the vicar of th\u2019Almighty Lord, \u2014\r\nThat hot, cold, heavy, light, and moist, and dry,\r\nHath knit, by even number of accord, \u2014\r\nIn easy voice began to speak, and say:\r\n\u201cFowles, take heed of my sentence,\u201d* I pray;         *opinion, discourse\r\nAnd for your ease, in furth\u2019ring of your need,\r\nAs far as I may speak, I will me speed.\r\n\r\n\u201cYe know well how, on Saint Valentine\u2019s Day,\r\nBy my statute, and through my governance,\r\nYe choose your mates, and after fly away\r\nWith them, as I you *pricke with pleasance;*     *inspire with pleasure*\r\nBut natheless, as by rightful ordinance,\r\nMay I not let,* for all this world to win,                       *hinder\r\nBut he that most is worthy shall begin.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe tercel eagle, as ye know full weel,*                          *well\r\nThe fowl royal, above you all in degree,\r\nThe wise and worthy, secret, true as steel,\r\nThe which I formed have, as ye may see,\r\nIn ev\u2019ry part, as it best liketh me, \u2014\r\nIt needeth not his shape you to devise,* \u2014                    *describe\r\nHe shall first choose, and speaken *in his guise.*      *in his own way*\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, after him, by order shall ye choose,\r\nAfter your kind, evereach as you liketh;\r\nAnd as your hap* is, shall ye win or lose;                      *fortune\r\nBut which of you that love most entriketh,*              *entangles <40>\r\nGod send him her that sorest for him siketh.\u201d*                  *sigheth\r\nAnd therewithal the tercel gan she call,\r\nAnd said, \u201cMy son, the choice is to thee fall.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut natheless, in this condition\r\nMust be the choice of ev\u2019reach that is here,\r\nThat she agree to his election,\r\nWhoso he be, that shoulde be her fere;*                       *companion\r\nThis is our usage ay, from year to year;\r\nAnd whoso may at this time have this grace,\r\n*In blissful time* he came into this place.\u201d           *in a happy hour*\r\nWith head inclin\u2019d, and with full humble cheer,*              *demeanour\r\n\r\nThis royal tercel spake, and tarried not:\r\n\u201cUnto my sov\u2019reign lady, and not my fere,*                    *companion\r\nI chose and choose, with will, and heart, and thought,\r\nThe formel on your hand, so well y-wrought,\r\nWhose I am all, and ever will her serve,\r\nDo what her list, to do me live or sterve.*                         *die\r\n\r\n\u201cBeseeching her of mercy and of grace,\r\nAs she that is my lady sovereign,\r\nOr let me die here present in this place,\r\nFor certes long may I not live in pain;\r\n*For in my heart is carven ev\u2019ry vein:*       *every vein in my heart is\r\nHaving regard only unto my truth,                     wounded with love*\r\nMy deare heart, have on my woe some ruth.*                         *pity\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd if that I be found to her untrue,\r\nDisobeisant,* or wilful negligent,                          *disobedient\r\nAvaunter,* or *in process* love a new,         *braggart  *in the course\r\nI pray to you, this be my judgement,                            of time*\r\nThat with these fowles I be all to-rent,*                *torn to pieces\r\nThat ilke* day that she me ever find                               *same\r\nTo her untrue, or in my guilt unkind.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd since none loveth her so well as I,\r\nAlthough she never of love me behet,*                          *promised\r\nThen ought she to be mine, through her mercy;\r\nFor *other bond can I none on her knit;*   *I can bind her no other way*\r\nFor weal or for woe, never shall I let*                     *cease, fail\r\nTo serve her, how far so that she wend;*                             *go\r\nSay what you list, my tale is at an end.\u201d\r\n\r\nRight as the freshe redde rose new\r\nAgainst the summer Sunne colour\u2019d is,\r\nRight so, for shame, all waxen gan the hue\r\nOf this formel, when she had heard all this;\r\n*Neither she answer\u2019d well, nor said amiss,*      *she answered nothing,\r\nSo sore abashed was she, till Nature                 either well or ill*\r\nSaid, \u201cDaughter, dread you not, I you assure.\u201d*        *confirm, support\r\n\r\nAnother tercel eagle spake anon,\r\nOf lower kind, and said that should not be;\r\n\u201cI love her better than ye do, by Saint John!\r\nOr at the least I love her as well as ye,\r\nAnd longer have her serv\u2019d in my degree;\r\nAnd if she should have lov\u2019d for long loving,\r\nTo me alone had been the guerdoning.*                            *reward\r\n\r\n\u201cI dare eke say, if she me finde false,\r\nUnkind, janglere,* rebel in any wise,                          *boastful\r\nOr jealous, *do me hange by the halse;*            *hang me by the neck*\r\nAnd but* I beare me in her service                               *unless\r\nAs well ay as my wit can me suffice,\r\nFrom point to point, her honour for to save,\r\nTake she my life and all the good I have.\u201d\r\n\r\nA thirde tercel eagle answer\u2019d tho:*                               *then\r\n\u201cNow, Sirs, ye see the little leisure here;\r\nFor ev\u2019ry fowl cries out to be ago\r\nForth with his mate, or with his lady dear;\r\nAnd eke Nature herselfe will not hear,\r\nFor tarrying her, not half that I would say;\r\nAnd but* I speak, I must for sorrow dey.**                 *unless **die\r\n\r\nOf long service avaunt* I me no thing,                            *boast\r\nBut as possible is me to die to-day,\r\nFor woe, as he that hath been languishing\r\nThis twenty winter; and well happen may\r\nA man may serve better, and *more to pay,*      *with more satisfaction*\r\nIn half a year, although it were no more.\r\nThan some man doth that served hath *full yore.*       *for a long time*\r\n\r\n\u201cI say not this by me for that I can\r\nDo no service that may my lady please;\r\nBut I dare say, I am her truest man,*                 *liegeman, servant\r\n*As to my doom,* and fainest would her please;          *in my judgement\r\n*At shorte words,* until that death me seize,              *in one word*\r\nI will be hers, whether I wake or wink.\r\nAnd true in all that hearte may bethink.\u201d\r\n\r\nOf all my life, since that day I was born,\r\n*So gentle plea,* in love or other thing,          *such noble pleading*\r\nYe hearde never no man me beforn;\r\nWhoso that hadde leisure and cunning*                             *skill\r\nFor to rehearse their cheer and their speaking:\r\nAnd from the morrow gan these speeches last,\r\nTill downward went the Sunne wonder fast.\r\n\r\nThe noise of fowles for to be deliver\u2019d*             *set free to depart\r\nSo loude rang, \u201cHave done and let us wend,\u201d*                         *go\r\nThat well ween\u2019d I the wood had all to-shiver\u2019d:*        *been shaken to\r\n\u201cCome off!\u201d they cried; \u201calas! ye will us shend!*          pieces* *ruin\r\nWhen will your cursed pleading have an end?\r\nHow should a judge either party believe,\r\nFor yea or nay, withouten any preve?\u201d*                            *proof\r\n\r\nThe goose, the duck, and the cuckoo also,\r\nSo cried \u201ckeke, keke,\u201d \u201ccuckoo,\u201d \u201cqueke queke,\u201d high,\r\nThat through mine ears the noise wente tho.*                       *then\r\nThe goose said then, \u201cAll this n\u2019is worth a fly!\r\nBut I can shape hereof a remedy;\r\nAnd I will say my verdict, fair and swith,*                    *speedily\r\nFor water-fowl, whoso be wroth or blith.\u201d*                         *glad\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd I for worm-fowl,\u201d said the fool cuckow;\r\nFor I will, of mine own authority,\r\nFor common speed,* take on me the charge now;                 *advantage\r\nFor to deliver us is great charity.\u201d\r\n\u201cYe may abide a while yet, pardie,\u201d*                             *by God\r\nQuoth then the turtle; \u201cif it be your will\r\nA wight may speak, it were as good be still.\r\n\r\n\u201cI am a seed-fowl, one th\u2019unworthiest,\r\nThat know I well, and the least of cunning;\r\nBut better is, that a wight\u2019s tongue rest,\r\nThan *entremette him of* such doing                   *meddle with* <41>\r\nOf which he neither rede* can nor sing;                         *counsel\r\nAnd who it doth, full foul himself accloyeth,*             *embarrasseth\r\nFor office uncommanded oft annoyeth.\u201d\r\n\r\nNature, which that alway had an ear\r\nTo murmur of the lewedness behind,\r\nWith facond* voice said, \u201cHold your tongues there,     *eloquent, fluent\r\nAnd I shall soon, I hope, a counsel find,\r\nYou to deliver, and from this noise unbind;\r\nI charge of ev\u2019ry flock* ye shall one call,               *class of fowl\r\nTo say the verdict of you fowles all.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe tercelet* said then in this mannere;                      *male hawk\r\n\u201cFull hard it were to prove it by reason,\r\nWho loveth best this gentle formel here;\r\nFor ev\u2019reach hath such replication,*                              *reply\r\nThat by skilles* may none be brought adown;                   *arguments\r\nI cannot see that arguments avail;\r\nThen seemeth it that there must be battaile.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAll ready!\u201d quoth those eagle tercels tho;*                       *then\r\n\u201cNay, Sirs!\u201d quoth he; \u201cif that I durst it say,\r\nYe do me wrong, my tale is not y-do,*                              *done\r\nFor, Sirs, \u2014 and *take it not agrief,* I pray, \u2014     *be not offended*\r\nIt may not be as ye would, in this way:\r\nOurs is the voice that have the charge in hand,\r\nAnd *to the judges\u2019 doom ye muste stand.*          *ye must abide by the\r\n                                                       judges\u2019 decision*\r\n\u201cAnd therefore \u2018Peace!\u2019 I say; as to my wit,\r\nMe woulde think, how that the worthiest\r\nOf knighthood, and had longest used it,\r\nMost of estate, of blood the gentilest,\r\nWere fitting most for her, *if that her lest;*          *if she pleased*\r\nAnd, of these three she knows herself, I trow,*                 *am sure\r\nWhich that he be; for it is light* to know.\u201d                       *easy\r\n\r\nThe water-fowles have their heades laid\r\nTogether, and *of short advisement,*          *after brief deliberation*\r\nWhen evereach his verdict had y-said\r\nThey saide soothly all by one assent,\r\nHow that \u201cThe goose with the *facond gent,*          *refined eloquence*\r\nThat so desired to pronounce our need,*                         business\r\nShall tell our tale;\u201d and prayed God her speed.\r\n\r\nAnd for those water-fowles then began\r\nThe goose to speak. and in her cackeling\r\nShe saide, \u201cPeace, now! take keep* ev\u2019ry man,                      *heed\r\nAnd hearken what reason I shall forth bring;\r\nMy wit is sharp, I love no tarrying;\r\nI say I rede him, though he were my brother,\r\nBut* she will love him, let him love another!\u201d                   *unless\r\n\r\n\u201cLo! here a perfect reason of a goose!\u201d\r\nQuoth the sperhawke.  \u201cNever may she the!*                       *thrive\r\nLo such a thing \u2019tis t\u2019have a tongue loose!\r\nNow, pardie: fool, yet were it bet* for thee                     *better\r\nHave held thy peace, than show\u2019d thy nicety;*               *foolishness\r\nIt lies not in his wit, nor in his will,\r\nBut sooth is said, a fool cannot be still.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe laughter rose of gentle fowles all;\r\nAnd right anon the seed-fowls chosen had\r\nThe turtle true, and gan her to them call,\r\nAnd prayed her to say the *soothe sad*                   *serious truth*\r\nOf this mattere, and asked what she rad;*                    *counselled\r\nAnd she answer\u2019d, that plainly her intent\r\nShe woulde show, and soothly what she meant.\r\n\r\n\u201cNay! God forbid a lover shoulde change!\u201d\r\nThe turtle said, and wax\u2019d for shame all red:\r\n\u201cThough that his lady evermore be strange,*                  *disdainful\r\nYet let him serve her ay, till he be dead;\r\nFor, sooth, I praise not the goose\u2019s rede*                      *counsel\r\nFor, though she died, I would none other make;*                    *mate\r\nI will be hers till that the death me take.\u201d\r\n\r\n*\u201cWell bourded!\u201d* quoth the ducke, \u201cby my hat!          *a pretty joke!*\r\nThat men should loven alway causeless,\r\nWho can a reason find, or wit, in that?\r\nDanceth he merry, that is mirtheless?\r\nWho shoulde *reck of that is reckeless?*           *care for one who has\r\nYea! queke yet,\u201d quoth the duck, \u201cfull well and fair!   no care for him*\r\nThere be more starres, God wot, than a pair!\u201d  <42>\r\n\r\n\u201cNow fy, churl!\u201d quoth the gentle tercelet,\r\n\u201cOut of the dunghill came that word aright;\r\nThou canst not see which thing is well beset;\r\nThou far\u2019st by love, as owles do by light,\u2014\r\nThe day them blinds, full well they see by night;\r\nThy kind is of so low a wretchedness,\r\nThat what love is, thou caust not see nor guess.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen gan the cuckoo put him forth in press,*               *in the crowd\r\nFor fowl that eateth worm, and said belive:*                    *quickly\r\n\u201cSo I,\u201d quoth he, \u201cmay have my mate in peace,\r\nI recke not how longe that they strive.\r\nLet each of them be solain* all their life;                 *single <43>\r\nThis is my rede,* since they may not accord;                    *counsel\r\nThis shorte lesson needeth not record.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYea, have the glutton fill\u2019d enough his paunch,\r\nThen are we well!\u201d saide the emerlon;*                           *merlin\r\n\u201cThou murd\u2019rer of the heggsugg,* on the branch            *hedge-sparrow\r\nThat brought thee forth, thou most rueful glutton, <44>\r\nLive thou solain, worme\u2019s corruption!\r\n*For no force is to lack of thy nature;*     *the loss of a bird of your\r\nGo! lewed be thou, while the world may dare!\u201d      depraved nature is no\r\n                                                      matter of regret.*\r\n\u201cNow peace,\u201d quoth Nature, \u201cI commande here;\r\nFor I have heard all your opinion,\r\nAnd in effect yet be we ne\u2019er the nere.*                         *nearer\r\nBut, finally, this is my conclusion, \u2014\r\nThat she herself shall have her election\r\nOf whom her list, whoso be *wroth or blith;*             *angry or glad*\r\nHim that she chooseth, he shall her have as swith.*             *quickly\r\n\r\n\u201cFor since it may not here discussed be\r\nWho loves her best, as said the tercelet,\r\nThen will I do this favour t\u2019 her, that she\r\nShall have right him on whom her heart is set,\r\nAnd he her, that his heart hath on her knit:\r\nThis judge I, Nature, for* I may not lie                        *because\r\nTo none estate; I *have none other eye.*          *can see the matter in\r\n                                                         no other light*\r\n\u201cBut as for counsel for to choose a make,\r\nIf I were Reason, [certes] then would I\r\nCounsaile you the royal tercel take,\r\nAs saith the tercelet full skilfully,*                       *reasonably\r\nAs for the gentilest, and most worthy,\r\nWhich I have wrought so well to my pleasance,\r\nThat to you it ought be *a suffisance.\u201d*          *to your satisfaction*\r\n\r\nWith dreadful* voice the formel her answer\u2019d:                *frightened\r\n\u201cMy rightful lady, goddess of Nature,\r\nSooth is, that I am ever under your yerd,*           *rod, or government\r\nAs is every other creature,\r\nAnd must be yours, while that my life may dure;\r\nAnd therefore grante me my firste boon,*                         *favour\r\nAnd mine intent you will I say right soon.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI grant it you,\u201d said she; and right anon\r\nThis formel eagle spake in this degree:*                         *manner\r\n\u201cAlmighty queen, until this year be done\r\nI aske respite to advise me;\r\nAnd after that to have my choice all free;\r\nThis is all and some that I would speak and say;\r\nYe get no more, although ye *do me dey.*                       *slay me*\r\n\r\n\u201cI will not serve Venus, nor Cupide,\r\nFor sooth as yet, by no manner [of] way.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow since it may none other ways betide,\u201d*                      *happen\r\nQuoth Dame Nature, \u201cthere is no more to say;\r\nThen would I that these fowles were away,\r\nEach with his mate, for longer tarrying here.\u201d\r\nAnd said them thus, as ye shall after hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cTo you speak I, ye tercels,\u201d quoth Nature;\r\n\u201cBe of good heart, and serve her alle three;\r\nA year is not so longe to endure;\r\nAnd each of you *pain him* in his degree                        *strive*\r\nFor to do well, for, God wot, quit is she\r\nFrom you this year, what after so befall;\r\nThis *entremess is dressed* for you all.\u201d             *dish is prepared*\r\n\r\nAnd when this work y-brought was to an end,\r\nTo ev\u2019ry fowle Nature gave his make,\r\nBy *even accord,* and on their way they wend:           *fair agreement*\r\nAnd, Lord! the bliss and joye that they make!\r\nFor each of them gan other in his wings take,\r\nAnd with their neckes each gan other wind,*              *enfold, caress\r\nThanking alway the noble goddess of Kind.\r\n\r\nBut first were chosen fowles for to sing,\u2014\r\nAs year by year was alway their usance,* \u2014                      *custom\r\nTo sing a roundel at their departing,\r\nTo do to Nature honour and pleasance;\r\nThe note, I trowe, maked was in France;\r\nThe wordes were such as ye may here find\r\nThe nexte verse, as I have now in mind:\r\n\r\nQui bien aime, tard oublie. <45>\r\n\r\n\u201cNow welcome summer, with thy sunnes soft,\r\nThat hast these winter weathers overshake *         *dispersed, overcome\r\nSaint Valentine, thou art full high on loft,\r\nWhich driv\u2019st away the longe nightes blake;*                      *black\r\nThus singe smalle fowles for thy sake:\r\nWell have they cause for to gladden* oft,           *be glad, make mirth\r\nSince each of them recover\u2019d hath his make;*                       *mate\r\nFull blissful may they sing when they awake.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with the shouting, when their song was do,*                    *done\r\nThat the fowls maden at their flight away,\r\nI woke, and other bookes took me to,\r\nTo read upon; and yet I read alway.\r\nI hope, y-wis, to reade so some day,\r\nThat I shall meete something for to fare\r\nThe bet;* and thus to read I will not spare.                     *better\r\n\r\nExplicit.*                                                      *the end\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The Assembly of Fowls\r\n\r\n\r\n1. \u201cThe Dream of Scipio\u201d \u2014 \u201cSomnium Scipionis\u201d \u2014 occupies\r\nmost of the sixth book of Cicero\u2019s \u201cRepublic;\u201d which, indeed, as\r\nit has come down to us, is otherwise imperfect. Scipio\r\nAfricanus Minor is represented as relating a dream which he had\r\nwhen, in B.C. 149, he went to Africa as military tribune to the\r\nfourth legion. He had talked long and earnestly of his adoptive\r\ngrandfather with Massinissa, King of Numidia, the intimate\r\nfriend of the great Scipio; and at night his illustrious ancestor\r\nappeared to him in a vision, foretold the overthrow of Carthage\r\nand all his other triumphs, exhorted him to virtue and patriotism\r\nby the assurance of rewards in the next world, and discoursed\r\nto him concerning the future state and the immortality of the\r\nsoul. Macrobius, about AD. 500, wrote a Commentary upon the\r\n\u201cSomnium Scipionis,\u201d which was a favourite book in the Middle\r\nAges. See note 17 to The Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n2. Y-nome: taken; past participle of \u201cnime,\u201d from Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cniman,\u201d to take.\r\n\r\n3. His grace: the favour which the gods would show him, in\r\ndelivering Carthage into his hands.\r\n\r\n4. \u201cVestra vero, quae dicitur, vita mors est.\u201d (\u201cTruly, as is said,\r\nyour life is a death\u201d)\r\n\r\n5. The nine spheres are God, or the highest heaven, constraining\r\nand containing all the others; the Earth, around which the\r\nplanets and the highest heaven revolve; and the seven planets:\r\nthe revolution of all producing the \u201cmusic of the spheres.\u201d\r\n\r\n6. Clear: illustrious, noble; Latin, \u201cclarus.\u201d\r\n\r\n7. The sicke mette he drinketh of the tun: The sick man dreams\r\nthat he drinks wine, as one in health.\r\n\r\n8. The significance of the poet\u2019s looking to the NNW is not\r\nplain; his window may have faced that way.\r\n\r\n9. The idea of the twin gates, leading to the Paradise and the\r\nHell of lovers, may have been taken from the description of the\r\ngates of dreams in the Odyssey and the Aeneid; but the iteration\r\nof \u201cThrough me men go\u201d far more directly suggests the legend\r\non Dante\u2019s gate of Hell:\u2014\r\n\r\nPer me si va nella citta dolente,\r\nPer me si va nell\u2019 eterno dolore;\r\nPer me si va tra la perduta gente.\r\n\r\n(\u201cThrough me is the way to the city of sorrow,\r\nThrough me is the way to eternal suffering;\r\nThrough me is the way of the lost people\u201d)\r\n\r\nThe famous line, \u201cLasciate ogni speranza, voi che entrate\u201d \u2014\r\n\u201cAll hope abandon, ye who enter here\u201d \u2014 is evidently\r\nparaphrased in Chaucer\u2019s words \u201cTh\u2019eschewing is the only\r\nremedy;\u201d that is, the sole hope consists in the avoidance of that\r\ndismal gate.\r\n\r\n10. A powerful though homely description of torment; the\r\nsufferers being represented as fish enclosed in a weir from\r\nwhich all the water has been withdrawn.\r\n\r\n11. Compare with this catalogue raisonne of trees the ampler\r\nlist given by Spenser in \u201cThe Faerie Queen,\u201d book i. canto i. In\r\nseveral instances, as in \u201cthe builder oak\u201d and \u201cthe sailing pine,\u201d\r\nthe later poet has exactly copied the words of the earlier.\r\nThe builder oak: In the Middle Ages the oak was as\r\ndistinctively the building timber on land, as it subsequently\r\nbecame for the sea.\r\nThe pillar elm:  Spenser explains this in paraphrasing it into \u201cthe\r\nvineprop elm\u201d \u2014 because it was planted as a pillar or  prop to\r\nthe vine; it is called \u201cthe coffer unto carrain,\u201d or \u201ccarrion,\u201d\r\nbecause coffins for the dead were made from it.\r\nThe box, pipe tree: the box tree was used for making pipes or horns.\r\nHolm: the holly, used for whip-handles.\r\nThe sailing fir: Because ships\u2019 masts and spars were made of its\r\nwood.\r\nThe cypress death to plain: in Spenser\u2019s imitation, \u201cthe cypress\r\nfuneral.\u201d\r\nThe shooter yew: yew wood was used for bows.\r\nThe aspe for shaftes plain: of the aspen, or black poplar, arrows\r\nwere made.\r\nThe laurel divine: So called, either because it was Apollo\u2019s\r\ntree \u2014 Horace says that Pindar is \u201claurea donandus Apollinari\u201d (\u201cto\r\nbe given Apollo\u2019s laurel\u201d) \u2014 or because the honour which it\r\nsignified, when placed on the head of a poet or conqueror, lifted\r\na man as it were into the rank of the gods.\r\n\r\n12. If Chaucer had any special trio of courtiers in his mind when\r\nhe excluded so many names, we may suppose them to be\r\nCharms, Sorcery, and Leasings who, in The Knight\u2019s Tale, come\r\nafter Bawdry and Riches \u2014 to whom Messagerie (the carrying\r\nof messages) and Meed (reward, bribe) may correspond.\r\n\r\n13. The dove was the bird sacred to Venus; hence Ovid\r\nenumerates the peacock of Juno, Jove\u2019s armour bearing bird,\r\n\u201cCythereiadasque columbas\u201d (\u201cAnd the Cythereian doves\u201d) \u2014\r\n\u201cMetamorphoses. xv. 386\r\n\r\n14. Priapus:  fitly endowed with a place in the Temple of Love,\r\nas being the embodiment of the principle of fertility in flocks\r\nand the fruits of the earth. See note 23 to the Merchant\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n15. Ovid, in the \u201cFasti\u201d (i. 433), describes the confusion of\r\nPriapus when, in the night following a feast of sylvan and\r\nBacchic deities, the braying of the ass of Silenus wakened the\r\ncompany to detect the god in a furtive amatory expedition.\r\n\r\n16. Hautain: haughty, lofty; French, \u201chautain.\u201d\r\n\r\n17. Well to my pay: Well to my satisfaction; from French,\r\n\u201cpayer,\u201d to pay, satisfy; the same word often occurs, in the\r\nphrases \u201cwell apaid,\u201d and \u201cevil apaid.\u201d\r\n\r\n18. Valentia, in Spain, was famed for the fabrication of fine and\r\ntransparent stuffs.\r\n\r\n19. The obvious reference is to the proverbial \u201cSine Cerere et\r\nLibero friget Venus,\u201d (\u201cLove is frozen without freedom and\r\nfood\u201d) quoted in Terence, \u201cEunuchus,\u201d act iv. scene v.\r\n\r\n20. Cypride: Venus; called \u201cCypria,\u201d or \u201cCypris,\u201d from the\r\nisland of Cyprus, in which her worship was especially\r\ncelebrated.\r\n\r\n21. Callisto, daughter of Lycaon, was seduced by Jupiter,\r\nturned into a bear by Diana, and placed afterwards, with her\r\nson, as the Great Bear among the stars.\r\nAtalanta challenged Hippomenes, a Boetian youth, to a race in\r\nwhich the prize was her hand in marriage \u2014 the penalty of\r\nfailure, death by her hand. Venus gave Hippomenes three\r\ngolden apples, and he won by dropping them one at a time\r\nbecause Atalanta stopped to pick them up.\r\nSemiramis was Queen of Ninus, the mythical founder of\r\nBabylon; Ovid mentions her, along with Lais, as a type of\r\nvoluptuousness, in his \u201cAmores,\u201d 1.5, 11.\r\nCanace, daughter of Aeolus, is named in the prologue to The\r\nMan of Law\u2019s Tale as one of the ladies whose \u201ccursed stories\u201d\r\nChaucer refrained from writing. She loved her brother\r\nMacareus, and was slain by her father.\r\nHercules was conquered by his love for Omphale, and spun\r\nwool for her in a woman\u2019s dress, while she wore his lion\u2019s skin.\r\nBiblis vainly pursued her brother Caunus with her love, till she\r\nwas changed to a fountain; Ovid, \u201cMetamorphoses.\u201d lib. ix.\r\nThisbe and Pyramus: the Babylonian lovers, whose death,\r\nthrough the error of Pyramus in fancying that a lion had slain his\r\nmistress, forms the theme of the interlude in the \u201cMidsummer\r\nNight\u2019s Dream.\u201d\r\nSir Tristram was one of the most famous among the knights of\r\nKing Arthur, and La Belle Isoude was his mistress. Their story\r\nis mixed up with the Arthurian romance; but it was also the\r\nsubject of separate treatment, being among the most popular of\r\nthe Middle Age legends.\r\nAchilles is reckoned among Love\u2019s conquests, because,\r\naccording to some traditions, he loved Polyxena, the daughter\r\nof Priam, who was promised to him if he consented to join the\r\nTrojans; and, going without arms into Apollo\u2019s temple at\r\nThymbra, he was there slain by Paris.\r\nScylla: Love-stories are told of two maidens of this name; one\r\nthe daughter of Nisus, King of Megara, who, falling in love with\r\nMinos when he besieged the city, slew  her father by pulling\r\nout the golden hair which grew on the top of his head, and on\r\nwhich  which his life and kingdom depended. Minos won the\r\ncity, but rejected her love in horror. The other Scylla, from\r\nwhom the rock opposite Charybdis was named, was a beautiful\r\nmaiden, beloved by the sea-god Glaucus, but changed into a\r\nmonster through the jealousy and enchantments of Circe.\r\nThe mother of Romulus:  Silvia, daughter and only living child\r\nof Numitor, whom her uncle Amulius made a vestal virgin, to\r\npreclude the possibility that his brother\u2019s descendants could\r\nwrest from him the kingdom of Alba Longa. But the maiden\r\nwas violated by Mars as she went to bring water from a\r\nfountain; she bore Romulus and Remus; and she was drowned\r\nin the Anio, while the cradle with the children was carried down\r\nthe stream in safety to the Palatine Hill, where the she-wolf\r\nadopted them.\r\n\r\n22. Prest: ready; French, \u201cpret.\u201d\r\n\r\n23. Alanus de Insulis, a Sicilian poet and orator of the twelfth\r\ncentury, who wrote a book \u201cDe Planctu Naturae\u201d \u2014 \u201cThe\r\nComplaint of Nature.\u201d\r\n\r\n24. The falcon was borne on the hand by the highest\r\npersonages, not merely in actual sport, but to be caressed and\r\npetted, even on occasions of ceremony, Hence also it is called\r\nthe \u201cgentle\u201d falcon \u2014 as if its high birth and breeding gave it a\r\nright to august society.\r\n\r\n25. The merlion: elsewhere in the same poem called \u201cemerlon;\u201d\r\nFrench, \u201cemerillon;\u201d the merlin, a small hawk carried by ladies.\r\n\r\n26. The scorning jay: scorning humbler birds, out of pride of his\r\nfine plumage.\r\n\r\n27. The false lapwing: full of stratagems and pretences to divert\r\napproaching danger from the nest where her young ones are.\r\n\r\n28. The sparrow, Venus\u2019 son: Because sacred to Venus.\r\n\r\n29. Coming with the spring, the nightingale is charmingly said\r\nto call forth the new leaves.\r\n\r\n30. Many-coloured wings, like those of peacocks, were often\r\ngiven to angels in paintings of the Middle Ages; and in\r\naccordance with this fashion Spenser represents the Angel that\r\nguarded Sir Guyon (\u201cFaerie Queen,\u201d book ii. canto vii.) as\r\nhaving wings \u201cdecked with diverse plumes, like painted jay\u2019s.\u201d\r\n\r\n31. The pheasant, scorner of the cock by night:  The meaning of\r\nthis passage is not very plain; it has been supposed, however, to\r\nrefer to the frequent breeding of pheasants at night with\r\ndomestic poultry in the farmyard \u2014 thus scorning the sway of\r\nthe cock, its rightful monarch.\r\n\r\n32. The waker goose:  Chaucer evidently alludes to the passage\r\nin Ovid describing the crow of Apollo, which rivalled the\r\nspotless doves, \u201cNec servataris vigili Capitolia voce cederet\r\nanseribus\u201d \u2014 \u201cnor would it yield (in whiteness) to the geese\r\ndestined with wakeful or vigilant voice to save the Capitol\u201d\r\n(\u201cMetam.,\u201d ii. 538) when about to be surprised by the Gauls in\r\na night attack.\r\n\r\n33. The cuckoo ever unkind: the significance of this epithet is\r\namply explained by the poem of \u201cThe Cuckoo and the\r\nNightingale.\u201d\r\n\r\n34. The drake, destroyer: of the ducklings \u2014 which, if not\r\nprevented, he will kill wholesale.\r\n\r\n35. The stork is conspicuous for faithfulness to all family\r\nobligations, devotion to its young, and care of its parent birds in\r\ntheir old age. Mr Bell quotes from Bishop Stanley\u2019s \u201cHistory of\r\nBirds\u201d a little story which peculiarly justifies the special\r\ncharacter Chaucer has given: \u2014  \u201cA French surgeon, at Smyrna,\r\nwishing to procure a stork, and finding great difficulty, on\r\naccount of the extreme veneration in which they are held by the\r\nTurks, stole all the eggs out of a nest, and replaced them with\r\nthose of a hen: in process of time the young chickens came\r\nforth, much to the astonishment of Mr and Mrs Stork. In a\r\nshort time Mr S. went off, and was not seen for two or three\r\ndays, when he returned with an immense crowd of his\r\ncompanions, who all assembled in the place, and formed a\r\ncircle, taking no notice of the numerous spectators whom so\r\nunusual an occurrence had collected. Mrs Stork was brought\r\nforward into the midst of the circle, and, after some\r\nconsultation, the whole flock fell upon her and tore her to\r\npieces; after which they immediately dispersed, and the nest was\r\nentirely abandoned.\u201d\r\n\r\n36. The cormorant feeds upon fish, so voraciously, that when\r\nthe stomach is crammed it will often have the gullet and bill\r\nlikewise full, awaiting the digestion of the rest.\r\n\r\n37. So called from the evil omens supposed to be afforded by\r\ntheir harsh cries.\r\n\r\n38. The fieldfare visits this country only in hard wintry weather.\r\n\r\n39. \u201cFormel,\u201d strictly or originally applied to the female of the\r\neagle and hawk, is here used generally of the female of all birds;\r\n\u201ctercel\u201d is the corresponding word applied to the male.\r\n\r\n40. Entriketh: entangles, ensnares; french, \u201cintriguer,\u201d to\r\nperplex; hence \u201cintricate.\u201d\r\n\r\n41. Entremette him of: meddle with; French, \u201centremettre,\u201d to\r\ninterfere.\r\n\r\n42. The duck exhorts the contending lovers to be of light heart\r\nand sing, for abundance of other ladies were at their command.\r\n\r\n43. Solain: single, alone; the same word originally as \u201csullen.\u201d\r\n\r\n44. The cuckoo is distinguished by its habit of laying its eggs in\r\nthe nests of other and smaller birds, such as the hedge-sparrow\r\n(\u201cheggsugg\u201d); and its young, when hatched, throw the eggs or\r\nnestlings of the true parent bird out of the nest, thus engrossing\r\nthe mother\u2019s entire care. The crime on which the emerlon\r\ncomments so sharply, is explained by the migratory habits of the\r\ncuckoo, which prevent its bringing up its own young; and\r\nnature has provided facilities for the crime, by furnishing the\r\nyoung bird with a peculiarly strong and broad back, indented by\r\na hollow in which the sparrow\u2019s egg is lifted till it is thrown out\r\nof the nest.\r\n\r\n45. \u201cWho well loves, late forgets;\u201d the refrain of the roundel\r\ninculcates the duty of constancy, which has been imposed on\r\nthe three tercels by the decision of the Court.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE FLOWER AND THE LEAF\r\n\r\n\r\n[\u201cThe Flower and the Leaf\u201d is pre-eminently one of those\r\npoems by which Chaucer may be triumphantly defended against\r\nthe charge of licentious coarseness, that, founded upon his\r\nfaithful representation of the manners, customs, and daily life\r\nand speech of his own time, in \u201cThe Canterbury Tales,\u201d are\r\nsweepingly advanced against his works at large. In an allegory \u2014\r\nrendered perhaps somewhat cumbrous by the detail of chivalric\r\nceremonial, and the heraldic minuteness, which entered so liberally\r\ninto poetry, as into the daily life of the classes for whom poetry\r\nwas then written \u2014 Chaucer beautifully enforces the lasting\r\nadvantages of purity, valour, and faithful love, and the fleeting\r\nand disappointing character of mere idle pleasure, of sloth\r\nand listless retirement from the battle of life. In the\r\n\u201cseason sweet\u201d of spring, which the great singer of Middle Age\r\nEngland loved so well, a gentle woman is supposed to seek\r\nsleep in vain, to rise \u201cabout the springing of the gladsome day,\u201d\r\nand, by an unfrequented path in a pleasant grove, to arrive at an\r\narbour. Beside the arbour stands a medlar-tree, in which a\r\nGoldfinch sings passing sweetly; and the Nightingale answers\r\nfrom a green laurel tree, with so merry and ravishing a note,\r\nthat the lady resolves to proceed no farther, but sit down on the\r\ngrass to listen. Suddenly the sound of many voices singing\r\nsurprises her; and she sees \u201ca world of ladies\u201d emerge from a\r\ngrove, clad in white, and wearing garlands of laurel, of agnus\r\ncastus, and woodbind. One, who wears a crown and bears a\r\nbranch of agnus castus in her hand, begins a roundel, in honour\r\nof the Leaf, which all the others take up, dancing and singing in\r\nthe meadow before the arbour. Soon, to the sound of\r\nthundering trumps, and attended by a splendid and warlike\r\nretinue, enter nine knights, in white, crowned like the ladies;\r\nand after they have jousted an hour and more, they alight and\r\nadvance to the ladies. Each dame takes a knight by the hand;\r\nand all incline reverently to the laurel tree, which they\r\nencompass, singing of love, and dancing. Soon, preceded by a\r\nband of minstrels, out of the open field comes a lusty company\r\nof knights and ladies in green, crowned with chaplets of\r\nflowers; and they do reverence to a tuft of flowers in the middle\r\nof the meadow, while one of their number sings a bergerette in\r\npraise of the daisy. But now it is high noon; the sun waxes\r\nfervently hot; the flowers lose their beauty, and wither with the\r\nheat; the ladies in green are scorched, the knights faint for lack\r\nof shade. Then a strong wind beats down all the flowers, save\r\nsuch as are protected by the leaves of hedges and groves; and a\r\nmighty storm of rain and hail drenches the ladies and knights,\r\nshelterless in the now flowerless meadow. The storm overpast,\r\nthe company in white, whom the laurel-tree has safely shielded\r\nfrom heat and storm, advance to the relief of the others; and\r\nwhen their clothes have been dried, and their wounds from sun\r\nand storm healed, all go together to sup with the Queen in\r\nwhite \u2014 on whose hand, as they pass by the arbour, the\r\nNightingale perches, while the Goldfinch flies to the Lady of the\r\nFlower. The pageant gone, the gentlewoman quits the arbour,\r\nand meets a lady in white, who, at her request, unfolds the\r\nhidden meaning of all that she has seen; \u201cwhich,\u201d says Speght\r\nquaintly, \u201cis this: They which honour the Flower, a thing fading\r\nwith every blast, are such as look after beauty and worldly\r\npleasure. But they that honour the Leaf, which abideth with the\r\nroot, notwithstanding the frosts and winter storms, are they\r\nwhich follow Virtue and during qualities, without regard of\r\nworldly respects.\u201d Mr Bell, in his edition, has properly noticed\r\nthat there is no explanation of the emblematical import of the\r\nmedlar-tree, the goldfinch, and the nightingale. \u201cBut,\u201d he says,\r\n\u201cas the fruit of the medlar, to use Chaucer\u2019s own expression (see\r\nPrologue to the Reeve\u2019s Tale), is rotten before it is ripe, it may\r\nbe the emblem of sensual pleasure, which palls before it confers\r\nreal enjoyment. The goldfinch is remarkable for the beauty of its\r\nplumage, the sprightliness of its movements, and its gay,\r\ntinkling song, and may be supposed to represent the showy and\r\nunsubstantial character of frivolous pleasures. The nightingale\u2019s\r\nsober outward appearance and impassioned song denote greater\r\ndepth of feeling.\u201d The poem throughout is marked by the purest\r\nand loftiest moral tone; and it amply deserved Dryden\u2019s special\r\nrecommendation, \u201cboth for the invention and the moral.\u201d It is\r\ngiven without abridgement.]\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was\r\nnot the author of this poem)\r\n\r\nWHEN that Phoebus his car of gold so high\r\nHad whirled up the starry sky aloft,\r\nAnd in the Bull <1> enter\u2019d certainly;\r\nWhen showers sweet of rain descended soft,\r\nCausing the grounde, fele* times and oft,                          *many\r\nUp for to give many a wholesome air,\r\nAnd every plain was y-clothed fair\r\n\r\nWith newe green, and maketh smalle flow\u2019rs\r\nTo springe here and there in field and mead;\r\nSo very good and wholesome be the show\u2019rs,\r\nThat they renewe what was old and dead\r\nIn winter time; and out of ev\u2019ry seed\r\nSpringeth the herbe, so that ev\u2019ry wight\r\nOf thilke* season waxeth glad and light.                           *this\r\n\r\nAnd I, so glad of thilke season sweet,\r\nWas *happed thus* upon a certain night,             *thus circumstanced*\r\nAs I lay in my bed, sleep full unmeet*               *unfit, uncompliant\r\nWas unto me; but why that I not might\r\nRest, I not wist; for there n\u2019as* earthly wight,                *was not\r\nAs I suppose, had more hearte\u2019s ease\r\nThan I, for I n\u2019had* sickness nor disease.**         *had not **distress\r\n\r\nWherefore I marvel greatly of myself,\r\nThat I so long withoute sleepe lay;\r\nAnd up I rose three houres after twelf,\r\nAbout the springing of the [gladsome] day;\r\nAnd on I put my gear* and mine array,                          *garments\r\nAnd to a pleasant grove I gan to pass,\r\nLong ere the brighte sun uprisen was;\r\n\r\nIn which were oakes great, straight as a line,\r\nUnder the which the grass, so fresh of hue,\r\nWas newly sprung; and an eight foot or nine\r\nEvery tree well from his fellow grew,\r\nWith branches broad, laden with leaves new,\r\nThat sprangen out against the sunne sheen;\r\nSome very red;<2> and some a glad light green;\r\n\r\nWhich, as me thought, was right a pleasant sight.\r\nAnd eke the birdes\u2019 songes for to hear\r\nWould have rejoiced any earthly wight;\r\nAnd I, that could not yet, in no mannere,\r\nHeare the nightingale of* all the year,<3>                       *during\r\nFull busy hearkened with heart and ear,\r\nIf I her voice perceive could anywhere.\r\n\r\nAnd at the last a path of little brede*                         *breadth\r\nI found, that greatly had not used be;\r\nFor it forgrowen* was with grass and weed,                    *overgrown\r\nThat well unneth* a wight mighte see:                          *scarcely\r\nThought I, \u201cThis path some whither goes, pardie!\u201d*          *of a surety\r\nAnd so I follow\u2019d [it], till it me brought\r\nTo a right pleasant arbour, well y-wrought,\r\n\r\nThat benched  was, and [all] with turfes new\r\nFreshly y-turf\u2019d, <4> whereof the greene grass,\r\nSo small, so thick, so short, so fresh of hue,\r\nThat most like to green wool, I wot, it was;\r\nThe hedge also, that *yeden in compass,*           *went all around <5>*\r\nAnd closed in all the greene herbere,*                           *arbour\r\nWith sycamore was set and eglatere,*             *eglantine, sweet-briar\r\n\r\nWreathed *in fere* so well and cunningly,                     *together*\r\nThat ev\u2019ry branch and leaf grew *by measure,*                *regularly*\r\nPlain as a board, of *a height by and by:*         *the same height side\r\nI saw never a thing, I you ensure,                              by side*\r\nSo well y-done; for he that took the cure*                  *pains, care\r\nTo maken it, I trow did all his pain\r\nTo make it pass all those that men have seen.\r\n\r\nAnd shapen was this arbour, roof and all,\r\nAs is a pretty parlour; and also\r\nThe hedge as thick was as a castle wall,\r\nThat whoso list without to stand or go,\r\nThough he would all day pryen to and fro,\r\nHe should not see if there were any wight\r\nWithin or no; but one within well might\r\n\r\nPerceive all those that wente there without\r\nInto the field, that was on ev\u2019ry side\r\nCover\u2019d with corn and grass; that out of doubt,\r\nThough one would seeken all the worlde wide,\r\nSo rich a fielde could not be espied\r\nUpon no coast, *as of the quantity;*                  *for its abundance\r\nFor of all goode thing there was plenty.                   or fertility*\r\n\r\nAnd I, that all this pleasant sight [did] see,\r\nThought suddenly I felt so sweet an air\r\nOf the eglentere, that certainly\r\nThere is no heart, I deem, in such despair,\r\nNor yet with thoughtes froward and contrair\r\nSo overlaid, but it should soon have boot,*             *remedy, relief*\r\nIf it had ones felt this *savour swoot.*                   *sweet smell*\r\n\r\nAnd as I stood, and cast aside mine eye,\r\nI was ware of the fairest medlar tree\r\nThat ever yet in all my life I seye,*                               *saw\r\nAs full of blossoms as it mighte be;\r\nTherein a goldfinch leaping prettily\r\nFrom bough to bough; and as him list he eat\r\nHere and there of the buds and flowers sweet.\r\n\r\nAnd to the arbour side was adjoining\r\nThis fairest tree, of which I have you told;\r\nAnd at the last the bird began to sing\r\n(When he had eaten what he eate wo\u2019ld)\r\nSo passing sweetly, that by many fold\r\nIt was more pleasant than I could devise;*               *tell, describe\r\nAnd, when his song was ended in this wise,\r\n\r\nThe nightingale with so merry a note\r\nAnswered him, that all the woode rung,\r\nSo suddenly, that, *as it were a sote,*                *like a fool <6>*\r\nI stood astound\u2019; so was I with the song\r\nThorough ravished, that, *till late and long,*         *for a long time*\r\nI wist not in what place I was, nor where;\r\nAgain, me thought, she sung e\u2019en by mine ear.\r\n\r\nWherefore I waited about busily\r\nOn ev\u2019ry side, if that I might her see;\r\nAnd at the last I gan full well espy\r\nWhere she sat in a fresh green laurel tree,\r\nOn the further side, even right by me,\r\nThat gave so passing a delicious smell,\r\n*According to* the eglantere full well.                  *blending with*\r\n\r\nWhereof I had so inly great pleasure,\r\nThat, as me thought, I surely ravish\u2019d was\r\nInto Paradise, where [as] my desire\r\nWas for to be, and no farther to pass,\r\nAs for that day; and on the sweete grass\r\nI sat me down; for, *as for mine intent,*                   *to my mind*\r\nThe birde\u2019s song was more *convenient,*       *appropriate to my humour*\r\n\r\nAnd more pleasant to me, by many fold,\r\nThan meat, or drink, or any other thing;\r\nThereto the arbour was so fresh and cold,\r\nThe wholesome savours eke so comforting,\r\nThat, as I deemed, since the beginning\r\nOf the world was [there] never seen *ere than*             *before then*\r\nSo pleasant a ground of none earthly man.\r\n\r\nAnd as I sat, the birdes heark\u2019ning thus,\r\nMe thought that I heard voices suddenly,\r\nThe most sweetest and most delicious\r\nThat ever any wight, I *trow truely,*                   *verily believe*\r\nHeard in their life; for the harmony\r\nAnd sweet accord was in so good musike,\r\nThat the voices to angels\u2019 most were like.\r\n\r\nAt the last, out of a grove even by,\r\nThat was right goodly, and pleasant to sight,\r\nI saw where there came, singing lustily,\r\nA world of ladies; but to tell aright\r\nTheir greate beauty, lies not in my might,\r\nNor their array; nevertheless I shall\r\nTell you a part, though I speak not of all.\r\n\r\nIn surcoats* white, of velvet well fitting,                 *upper robes\r\nThey were clad, and the seames each one,\r\nAs it were a mannere [of] garnishing,\r\nWas set with emeraldes, one and one,\r\n*By and by;* but many a riche stone                           *in a row*\r\nWas set upon the purfles,* out of doubt,              *embroidered edges\r\nOf collars, sleeves, and traines round about;\r\n\r\nAs greate pearles, round and orient,*                         *brilliant\r\nAnd diamondes fine, and rubies red,\r\nAnd many another stone, of which I went*                  *cannot recall\r\nThe names now; and ev\u2019reach on her head\r\n[Had] a rich fret* of gold, which, without dread,**        *band **doubt\r\nWas full of stately* riche stones set;                  *valuable, noble\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry lady had a chapelet\r\n\r\nUpon her head of branches fresh and green, <7>\r\nSo well y-wrought, and so marvellously,\r\nThat it was a right noble sight to see\u2019n;\r\nSome of laurel, and some full pleasantly\r\nHad chapelets of woodbine; and sadly,*                         *sedately\r\nSome of agnus castus <8> wearen also\r\nChapelets fresh; but there were many of tho\u2019*                     *those\r\n\r\nThat danced and eke sung full soberly;\r\nAnd all they went *in manner of compass;*                  *in a circle*\r\nBut one there went, in mid the company,\r\nSole by herself; but all follow\u2019d the pace\r\nThat she kept, whose heavenly figur\u2019d face\r\nSo pleasant was, and her well shap\u2019d person,\r\nThat in beauty she pass\u2019d them ev\u2019ry one.\r\n\r\nAnd more richly beseen, by many fold,\r\nShe was also in ev\u2019ry manner thing:\r\nUpon her head, full pleasant to behold,\r\nA crown of golde, rich for any king;\r\nA branch of agnus castus eke bearing\r\nIn her hand, and to my sight truely\r\nShe Lady was of all that company.\r\n\r\nAnd she began a roundell <9> lustily,\r\nThat \u201cSuse le foyle, devers moi,\u201d men call,\r\n\u201cSiene et mon joly coeur est endormy;\u201d <10>\r\nAnd then the company answered all,\r\nWith voices sweet entuned, and so small,*                          *fine\r\nThat me thought it the sweetest melody\r\nThat ever I heard in my life, soothly.*                           *truly\r\n\r\nAnd thus they came, dancing and singing,\r\nInto the middest of the mead each one,\r\nBefore the arbour where I was sitting;\r\nAnd, God wot, me thought I was well-begone,*                  *fortunate\r\nFor then I might advise* them one by one,                      *consider\r\nWho fairest was, who best could dance or sing,\r\nOr who most womanly was in all thing.\r\n\r\nThey had not danced but a *little throw,*                   *short time*\r\nWhen that I hearde far off, suddenly,\r\nSo great a noise of thund\u2019ring trumpets blow,\r\nAs though it should departed* have the sky;                *rent, divide\r\nAnd after that, within a while, I sigh,*                            *saw\r\nFrom the same grove, where the ladies came out,\r\nOf men of armes coming such a rout,*                            *company\r\n\r\nAs* all the men on earth had been assembled                       *as if\r\nUnto that place, well horsed for the nonce*                    *occasion\r\nStirring so fast, that all the earthe trembled\r\nBut for to speak of riches, and of stones,\r\nAnd men and horse, I trow the large ones*                   *i.e. jewels\r\nOf Prester John, <11> nor all his treasury,\r\nMight not unneth* have bought the tenth party**           *hardly **part\r\n\r\nOf their array: whoso list heare more,\r\nI shall rehearse so as I can a lite.*                            *little\r\nOut of the grove, that I spake of before,\r\nI saw come first, all in their cloakes white,\r\nA company, that wore, for their delight,\r\nChapelets fresh of oake cerrial, <12>\r\nNewly y-sprung; and trumpets* were they all.                 *trumpeters\r\n\r\nOn ev\u2019ry trump hanging a broad bannere\r\nOf fine tartarium <13> was, full richly beat;*    *embroidered with gold\r\nEvery trumpet his lord\u2019s armes bare;\r\nAbout their necks, with greate pearles set,\r\n[Were] collars broad; for cost they would not let,*      *be hindered by\r\nAs it would seem, for their scutcheons each one\r\nWere set about with many a precious stone.\r\n\r\nTheir horses\u2019 harness was all white also.\r\nAnd after them next, in one company,\r\nCame kinges at armes and no mo\u2019,\r\nIn cloakes of white cloth with gold richly;\r\nChaplets of green upon their heads on high;\r\nThe crownes that they on their scutcheons bare\r\nWere set with pearl, and ruby, and sapphire,\r\n\r\nAnd eke great diamondes many one:\r\nBut all their horse harness, and other gear,\r\nWas in a suit according, ev\u2019ry one,\r\nAs ye have heard the foresaid trumpets were;\r\nAnd, by seeming, they *were nothing to lear,*     *had nothing to learn*\r\nAnd their guiding they did all mannerly.*                     *perfectly\r\nAnd after them came a great company\r\n\r\nOf heraldes and pursuivantes eke,\r\nArrayed in clothes of white velvet;\r\nAnd, hardily,* they were no thing to seek,                     assuredly\r\nHow they on them shoulde the harness set:\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry man had on a chapelet;\r\nScutcheones and eke harness, indeed,\r\nThey had *in suit of* them that \u2019fore them yede.*   *corresponding with*\r\n                                                                   *went\r\nNext after them in came, in armour bright,\r\nAll save their heades, seemly knightes nine,\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry clasp and nail, as to my sight,\r\nOf their harness was of red golde fine;\r\nWith cloth of gold, and furred with ermine,\r\nWere the trappures* of their steedes strong,                  *trappings\r\nBoth wide and large, that to the grounde hung.\r\n\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry boss of bridle and paytrel*               *horse\u2019s breastplate\r\nThat they had on, was worth, as I would ween,\r\nA thousand pound; and on their heades, well\r\nDressed, were crownes of the laurel green,\r\nThe beste made that ever I had seen;\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry knight had after him riding\r\nThree henchemen* upon him awaiting.                               *pages\r\n\r\nOf which ev\u2019ry [first], on a short truncheon,*                    *staff\r\nHis lorde\u2019s helmet bare, so richly dight,*                      *adorned\r\nThat the worst of them was worthy the ranson*                    *ransom\r\nOf any king; the second a shielde bright\r\nBare at his back; the thirde bare upright\r\nA mighty spear, full sharp y-ground and keen;\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry childe* ware of leaves green                             *page\r\n\r\nA freshe chaplet on his haires bright;\r\nAnd cloakes white of fine velvet they ware\r\nTheir steedes trapped and arrayed right,\r\nWithout difference, as their lordes\u2019 were;\r\nAnd after them, on many a fresh courser,\r\nThere came of armed knightes such a rout,*               *company, crowd\r\nThat they bespread the large field about.\r\n\r\nAnd all they waren, after their degrees,\r\nChapelets newe made of laurel green,\r\nSome of the oak, and some of other trees;\r\nSome in their handes bare boughes sheen,*                        *bright\r\nSome of laurel, and some of oakes keen,\r\nSome of hawthorn, and some of the woodbind,\r\nAnd many more which I had not in mind.\r\n\r\nAnd so they came, their horses fresh stirring\r\nWith bloody soundes of their trumpets loud;\r\nThere saw I many an *uncouth disguising*           *strange manoeuvring*\r\nIn the array of these knightes proud;\r\nAnd at the last, as evenly as they could,\r\nThey took their place in middest of the mead,\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry knight turned his horse\u2019s head\r\n\r\nTo his fellow, and lightly laid a spear\r\nInto the rest; and so the jousts began\r\nOn ev\u2019ry part aboute, here and there;\r\nSome brake his spear, some threw down horse and man;\r\nAbout the field astray the steedes ran;\r\nAnd, to behold their rule and governance,*                      *conduct\r\nI you ensure, it was a great pleasuance.\r\n\r\nAnd so the joustes last\u2019* an hour and more;                      *lasted\r\nBut those that crowned were in laurel green\r\nWonne the prize; their dintes* were so sore,                    *strokes\r\nThat there was none against them might sustene:\r\nAnd the jousting was alle left off clean,\r\nAnd from their horse the nine alight\u2019 anon,\r\nAnd so did all the remnant ev\u2019ry one.\r\n\r\nAnd forth they went together, twain and twain,\r\nThat to behold it was a worthy sight,\r\nToward the ladies on the greene plain,\r\nThat sang and danced as I said now right;\r\nThe ladies, as soon as they goodly might,\r\nThey brake off both the song and eke the dance,\r\nAnd went to meet them with full glad semblance.*            *air, aspect\r\n\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry lady took, full womanly,\r\nBy th\u2019hand a knight, and so forth right they yede*                 *went\r\nUnto a fair laurel that stood fast by,\r\nWith leaves lade the boughs of greate brede;*                   *breadth\r\nAnd, to my doom,* there never was, indeed,                     *judgment\r\nMan that had seene half so fair a tree;\r\nFor underneath it there might well have be*                        *been\r\n\r\nA hundred persons, *at their own pleasance,*        *in perfect comfort*\r\nShadowed from the heat of Phoebus bright,\r\nSo that they shoulde have felt no grievance*                  *annoyance\r\nOf rain nor haile that them hurte might.\r\nThe savour eke rejoice would any wight\r\nThat had been sick or melancholious,\r\nIt was so very good and virtuous.*              *full of healing virtues\r\n\r\nAnd with great rev\u2019rence they inclined low\r\nUnto the tree so sweet and fair of hue;*                     *appearance\r\nAnd after that, within a *little throw,*                    *short time*\r\nThey all began to sing and dance of new,\r\nSome song of love, some *plaining of untrue,*              *complaint of\r\nEnvironing* the tree that stood upright;                 unfaithfulness*\r\nAnd ever went a lady and a knight.                          *going round\r\n\r\nAnd at the last I cast mine eye aside,\r\nAnd was ware of a lusty company\r\nThat came roaming out of the fielde wide;\r\n[And] hand in hand a knight and a lady;\r\nThe ladies all in surcoats, that richly\r\nPurfiled* were with many a riche stone;          *trimmed at the borders\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry knight of green ware mantles on,\r\n\r\nEmbroider\u2019d well, so as the surcoats were;\r\nAnd ev\u2019reach had a chaplet on her head\r\n(Which did right well upon the shining hair),\r\nMaked of goodly flowers, white and red.\r\nThe knightes eke, that they in hande led,\r\nIn suit of them ware chaplets ev\u2019ry one,\r\nAnd them before went minstrels many one,\r\n\r\nAs harpes, pipes, lutes, and psaltry,\r\nAll [clad] in green; and, on their heades bare,\r\nOf divers flowers, made full craftily\r\nAll in a suit, goodly chaplets they ware;\r\nAnd so dancing into the mead they fare.\r\nIn mid the which they found a tuft that was\r\nAll overspread with flowers in compass*             *around, in a circle\r\n\r\nWhereunto they inclined ev\u2019ry one,\r\nWith great reverence, and that full humbly\r\nAnd at the last there then began anon\r\nA lady for to sing right womanly,\r\nA bargaret, <14> in praising the daisy.\r\nFor, as me thought, among her notes sweet,\r\nShe saide: \u201cSi douce est la margarete.\u201d<15>\r\n\r\nThen alle they answered her in fere*                           *together\r\nSo passingly well, and so pleasantly,\r\nThat it was a [most] blissful noise to hear.\r\nBut, I n\u2019ot* how, it happen\u2019d suddenly                         *know not\r\nAs about noon the sun so fervently\r\nWax\u2019d hote, that the pretty tender flow\u2019rs\r\nHad lost the beauty of their fresh colours,\r\n\r\nForshrunk* with heat; the ladies eke to-brent,**\t*shrivelled **very burnt\r\nThat they knew not where they might them bestow;\r\nThe knightes swelt,* for lack of shade nigh shent**\t*fainted **destroyed\r\nAnd after that, within a little throw,\r\nThe wind began so sturdily to blow,\r\nThat down went all the flowers ev\u2019ry one,\r\nSo that in all the mead there left not one;\r\n\r\nSave such as succour\u2019d were among the leaves\r\nFrom ev\u2019ry storm that mighte them assail,\r\nGrowing under the hedges and thick greves;*              *groves, boughs\r\nAnd after that there came a storm of hail\r\nAnd rain in fere,* so that withoute fail                       *together\r\nThe ladies nor the knights had not one thread\r\nDry on them, so dropping was [all] their weed.*                *clothing\r\n\r\nAnd when the storm was passed clean away,\r\nThose in the white, that stood under the tree,\r\nThey felt no thing of all the great affray\r\nThat they in green without *had in y-be:*                  *had been in*\r\nTo them they went for ruth, and for pity,\r\nThem to comfort after their great disease;*                     *trouble\r\nSo fain* they were the helpless for to ease.                *glad, eager\r\n\r\nThen I was ware how one of them in green\r\nHad on a crowne, rich and well sitting;*                       *becoming\r\nWherefore I deemed well she was a queen,\r\nAnd those in green on her were awaiting.*                 *in attendance\r\nThe ladies then in white that were coming\r\nToward them, and the knightes eke *in fere,*                  *together*\r\nBegan to comfort them, and make them cheer.\r\n\r\nThe queen in white, that was of great beauty,\r\nTook by the hand the queen that was in green,\r\nAnd saide: \u201cSister, I have great pity\r\nOf your annoy, and of your troublous teen,*               *injury, grief\r\nWherein you and your company have been\r\nSo long, alas! and if that it you please\r\nTo go with me, I shall you do the ease,\r\n\r\n\u201cIn all the pleasure that I can or may;\u201d\r\nWhereof the other, humbly as she might,\r\nThanked her; for in right evil array\r\nShe was, with storm and heat, I you behight;*                    *assure\r\nArid ev\u2019ry lady then anon aright,\r\nThat were in white, one of them took in green\r\nBy the hand; which when that the knights had seen,\r\n\r\nIn like mannere each of them took a knight\r\nY-clad in green, and forth with them they fare\r\nUnto a hedge, where that they anon right,\r\nTo make their joustes,<16> they would not spare\r\nBoughes to hewe down, and eke trees square,\r\nWherewith they made them stately fires great,\r\nTo dry their clothes, that were wringing wet.\r\n\r\nAnd after that, of herbes that there grew,\r\nThey made, for blisters of the sun\u2019s burning,\r\nOintmentes very good, wholesome, and new,\r\nWherewith they went the sick fast anointing;\r\nAnd after that they went about gath\u2019ring\r\nPleasant salades, which they made them eat,\r\nFor to refresh their great unkindly heat.\r\n\r\nThe Lady of the Leaf then gan to pray\r\nHer of the Flower (for so, to my seeming,\r\nThey should be called, as by their array),\r\nTo sup with her; and eke, for anything,\r\nThat she should with her all her people bring;\r\nAnd she again in right goodly mannere\r\nThanked her fast of her most friendly cheer;\r\n\r\nSaying plainely, that she would obey,\r\nWith all her heart, all her commandement:\r\nAnd then anon, without longer delay,\r\nThe Lady of the Leaf hath one y-sent\r\nTo bring a palfrey, *after her intent,*          *according to her wish*\r\nArrayed well in fair harness of gold;\r\nFor nothing lack\u2019d, that *to him longe sho\u2019ld.*   *should belong to him*\r\n\r\nAnd, after that, to all her company\r\nShe made to purvey* horse and ev\u2019rything                        *provide\r\nThat they needed; and then full lustily,\r\nEv\u2019n by the arbour where I was sitting,\r\nThey passed all, so merrily singing,\r\nThat it would have comforted any wight.\r\nBut then I saw a passing wondrous sight;\r\n\r\nFor then the nightingale, that all the day\r\nHad in the laurel sat, and did her might\r\nThe whole service to sing longing to May,\r\nAll suddenly began to take her flight;\r\nAnd to the Lady of the Leaf forthright\r\nShe flew, and set her on her hand softly;\r\nWhich was a thing I marvell\u2019d at greatly.\r\n\r\nThe goldfinch eke, that from the medlar tree\r\nWas fled for heat into the bushes cold,\r\nUnto the Lady of the Flower gan flee,\r\nAnd on her hand he set him as he wo\u2019ld,\r\nAnd pleasantly his winges gan to fold;\r\nAnd for to sing they *pain\u2019d them* both, as sore  *made great exertions*\r\nAs they had done *of all* the day before.                        *during\r\n\r\nAnd so these ladies rode forth *a great pace,*                 *rapidly*\r\nAnd all the rout of knightes eke in fere;\r\nAnd I, that had seen all this *wonder case,*         *wondrous incident*\r\nThought that I would assay in some mannere\r\nTo know fully the truth of this mattere,\r\nAnd what they were that rode so pleasantly;\r\nAnd when they were the arbour passed by,\r\n\r\nI *dress\u2019d me forth,* and happ\u2019d to meet anon             *issued forth*\r\nA right fair lady, I do you ensure;*                             *assure\r\nAnd she came riding by herself alone,\r\nAll in white; [then] with semblance full demure\r\nI her saluted, and bade good adventure*                         *fortune\r\nMight her befall, as I could most humbly;\r\nAnd she answer\u2019d: \u201cMy daughter, gramercy!\u201d*           *great thanks <17>\r\n\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth I, \u201cif that I durst enquere\r\nOf you, I would fain, of that company,\r\nWit what they be that pass\u2019d by this herbere?\r\nAnd she again answered right friendly:\r\n\u201cMy faire daughter, all that pass\u2019d hereby\r\nIn white clothing, be servants ev\u2019ry one\r\nUnto the Leaf; and I myself am one.\r\n\r\n\u201cSee ye not her that crowned is,\u201d quoth she\r\n\u201c[Clad] all in white?\u201d \u2014 \u201cMadame,\u201d then quoth I, \u201cyes:\u201d\r\n\u201cThat is Dian\u2019, goddess of chastity;\r\nAnd for because that she a maiden is,\r\nIn her hande the branch she beareth this,\r\nThat agnus castus <8> men call properly;\r\nAnd all the ladies in her company,\r\n\r\n\u201cWhich ye see of that herbe chaplets wear,\r\nBe such as have kept alway maidenhead:\r\nAnd all they that of laurel chaplets bear,\r\nBe such as hardy* were in manly deed,  \u2014                    *courageous\r\nVictorious name which never may be dead!\r\nAnd all they were so *worthy of their hand*           *valiant in fight*\r\nIn their time, that no one might them withstand,\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd those that weare chaplets on their head\r\nOf fresh woodbind, be such as never were\r\nTo love untrue in word, in thought, nor deed,\r\nBut ay steadfast; nor for pleasance, nor fear,\r\nThough that they should their heartes all to-tear,*     *rend in pieces*\r\nWould never flit,* but ever were steadfast,                      *change\r\n*Till that their lives there asunder brast.\u201d*           *till they died*\r\n\r\n\u201cNow fair Madame,\u201d quoth I, \u201cyet would I pray\r\nYour ladyship, if that it mighte be,\r\nThat I might knowe, by some manner way\r\n(Since that it hath liked your beauty,\r\nThe truth of these ladies for to tell me),\r\nWhat that these knightes be in rich armour,\r\nAnd what those be in green and wear the flow\u2019r?\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd why that some did rev\u2019rence to that tree,\r\nAnd some unto the plot of flowers fair?\u201d\r\n\u201cWith right good will, my daughter fair,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cSince your desire is good and debonair;*             *gentle, courteous\r\nThe nine crowned be *very exemplair*                 *the true examples*\r\nOf all honour longing to chivalry;\r\nAnd those certain be call\u2019d The Nine Worthy, <18>\r\n\r\n\u201cWhich ye may see now riding all before,\r\nThat in their time did many a noble deed,\r\nAnd for their worthiness full oft have bore\r\nThe crown of laurel leaves upon their head,\r\nAs ye may in your olde bookes read;\r\nAnd how that he that was a conquerour\r\nHad by laurel alway his most honour.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd those that beare boughes in their hand\r\nOf the precious laurel so notable,\r\nBe such as were, I will ye understand,\r\nMost noble Knightes of the Rounde Table,<19>\r\nAnd eke the Douceperes honourable; <20>\r\nWhiche they bear in sign of victory,\r\nAs witness of their deedes mightily.\r\n\r\n\u201cEke there be knightes old <21> of the Garter,\r\nThat in their time did right worthily;\r\nAnd the honour they did to the laurer*                      *laurel <22>\r\nIs for* by it they have their laud wholly,                      *because\r\nTheir triumph eke, and martial glory;\r\nWhich unto them is more perfect richess\r\nThan any wight imagine can, or guess.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor one leaf given of that noble tree\r\nTo any wight that hath done worthily,\r\nAn\u2019* it be done so as it ought to be,                                *if\r\nIs more honour than any thing earthly;\r\nWitness of Rome, that founder was truly\r\nOf alle knighthood and deeds marvellous;\r\nRecord I take of Titus Livius.\u201d <23>\r\n\r\nAnd as for her that crowned is in green,\r\nIt is Flora, of these flowers goddess;\r\nAnd all that here on her awaiting be\u2019n,\r\nIt are such folk that loved idleness,\r\nAnd not delighted in no business,\r\nBut for to hunt and hawk, and play in meads,\r\nAnd many other such-like idle deeds.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd for the great delight and the pleasance\r\nThey have to the flow\u2019r, and so rev\u2019rently\r\nThey unto it do such obeisance\r\nAs ye may see.\u201d \u201cNow, fair Madame,\u201dquoth I,\r\n\u201cIf I durst ask, what is the cause, and why,\r\nThat knightes have the ensign* of honour                       *insignia\r\nRather by the leaf than by the flow\u2019r?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cSoothly, daughter,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthis is the troth:\r\nFor knights should ever be persevering,\r\nTo seek honour, without feintise* or sloth,               *dissimulation\r\nFrom well to better in all manner thing:\r\nIn sign of which, with leaves aye lasting\r\nThey be rewarded after their degree,\r\nWhose lusty green may not appaired* be,               *impaired, decayed\r\n\r\n\u201cBut ay keeping their beauty fresh and green;\r\nFor there is no storm that may them deface,\r\nNor hail nor snow, nor wind nor frostes keen;\r\nWherefore they have this property and grace:\r\nAnd for the flow\u2019r, within a little space,\r\nWolle* be lost, so simple of nature                                *will\r\nThey be, that they no grievance* may endure;           *injury, hardship\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd ev\u2019ry storm will blow them soon away,\r\nNor they laste not but for a season;\r\nThat is the cause, the very truth to say,\r\nThat they may not, by no way of reason,\r\nBe put to no such occupation.\u201d\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth I, \u201cwith all my whole service\r\nI thank you now, in my most humble wise;\r\n\r\n\u201cFor now I am ascertain\u2019d thoroughly\r\nOf ev\u2019ry thing that I desir\u2019d to know.\u201d\r\n\u201cI am right glad that I have said, soothly,\r\nAught to your pleasure, if ye will me trow,\u201d*                   *believe\r\nQuoth she again; \u201cbut to whom do ye owe\r\nYour service? and which wolle* ye honour,                          *will\r\nTell me, I pray, this year, the Leaf or the Flow\u2019r?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth I, \u201cthough I be least worthy,\r\nUnto the Leaf I owe mine observance:\u201d\r\n\u201cThat is,\u201d quoth she, \u201cright well done, certainly;\r\nAnd I pray God, to honour you advance,\r\nAnd keep you from the wicked remembrance\r\nOf Malebouche,* and all his cruelty;                       *Slander <24>\r\nAnd all that good and well-condition\u2019d be.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor here may I no longer now abide;\r\nI must follow the greate company,\r\nThat ye may see yonder before you ride.\u201d\r\nAnd forthwith, as I coulde, most humbly\r\nI took my leave of her, and she gan hie*                          *haste\r\nAfter them as fast as she ever might;\r\nAnd I drew homeward, for it was nigh night,\r\n\r\nAnd put all that I had seen in writing,\r\nUnder support of them that list it read. <25>\r\nO little book! thou art so uncunning,*                        *unskilful\r\nHow dar\u2019st thou put thyself in press, <26> for dread?\r\nIt is wonder that thou waxest not red!\r\nSince that thou know\u2019st full lite* who shall behold              *little\r\nThy rude language, full *boistously unfold.*     *unfolded in homely and\r\n                                                     unpolished fashion*\r\n\r\nExplicit.*                                                      *The End\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Flower and the Leaf\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Bull: the sign of Taurus, which the sun enters\r\nin May.\r\n\r\n2. The young oak leaves are red or ashen coloured.\r\n\r\n3. Chaucer here again refers to the superstition,\r\nnoticed in \u201cThe Cuckoo and the Nightingale,\u201d that it\r\nwas of good omen to hear the nightingale before the\r\ncuckoo upon the advent of both with spring.\r\n\r\n4. The arbour was furnished with seats, which had\r\nbeen newly covered with turf.\r\n\r\n5. \u201cYede\u201d or \u201cyead,\u201d is the old form of go.\r\n\r\n6. Sote: fool \u2014 French \u201csot.\u201d\r\n\r\n7. See note 59 to The Court of Love\r\n\r\n8. Agnus castus:  the chaste-tree; a kind of willow.\r\n\r\n9. Roundell:  French, \u201crondeau;\u201d a song that comes\r\nround again to the verse with which it opened, or that\r\nis taken up in turn by each of the singers.\r\n\r\n10.  In modern French form, \u201cSous la feuille, devers\r\nmoi, son et mon joli coeur est endormi\u201d \u2014 \u201cUnder the\r\nfoliage, towards me, his and my jolly heart is gone to\r\nsleep.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Prester John: The half-mythical Eastern potentate,\r\nwho is now supposed to have been, not a Christian\r\nmonarch of Abyssinia, but the head of the Indian\r\nempire before Zenghis Khan\u2019s conquest.\r\n\r\n12. Oak cerrial: of the species of oak which Pliny, in\r\nhis \u201cNatural History,\u201d calls \u201ccerrus.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. Tartarium: Cloth of Tars, or of Tortona.\r\n\r\n14. Bargaret: bergerette, or pastoral song.\r\n\r\n15. \u201cSi douce est la margarete.\u201d: \u201cSo sweet is the\r\ndaisy\u201d (\u201cla marguerite\u201d).\r\n\r\n16. To make their joustes:  the meaning is not very\r\nobvious; but in The Knight\u2019s Tale \u201cjousts and array\u201d\r\nare in some editions made part of the adornment of\r\nthe Temple of Venus; and as the word \u201cjousts\u201d would\r\nthere carry the general meaning of \u201cpreparations\u201d to\r\nentertain or please a lover, in the present case it may\r\nhave a similar force.\r\n\r\n17. Gramercy:  \u201cgrand merci,\u201d French; great thanks.\r\n\r\n18. The Nine Worthies, who at our day survive in the\r\nSeven Champions of Christendom. The Worthies\r\nwere favourite subjects for representation at popular\r\nfestivals or in masquerades.\r\n\r\n19. The famous Knights of King Arthur, who, being\r\nall esteemed equal in valour and noble qualities, sat at\r\na round table, so that none should seem to have\r\nprecedence over the rest.\r\n\r\n20. The twelve peers of Charlemagne (les douze\r\npairs), chief among whom were Roland and Oliver.\r\n\r\n21. Chaucer speaks as if, at least for the purposes of\r\nhis poetry, he believed that Edward III. did not\r\nestablish a new, but only revived an old, chivalric\r\ninstitution, when be founded the Order of the Garter.\r\n\r\n22. Laurer: laurel-tree; French, \u201claurier.\u201d\r\n\r\n23.  The meaning is: \u201cWitness the practice of Rome,\r\nthat was the founder of all knighthood and marvellous\r\ndeeds; and I refer for corroboration to Titus Livius\u201d  \u2014\r\nwho, in several passages, has mentioned the laurel\r\ncrown as the highest military honour. For instance, in\r\n1. vii. c. 13, Sextus Tullius, remonstrating for the\r\narmy against the inaction in which it is kept, tells the\r\nDictator Sulpicius, \u201cDuce te vincere cupimus; tibi\r\nlauream insignem deferre; tecum triumphantes urbem\r\ninire.\u201d (\u201cCommander, we want you to conquer; to\r\nbring you the laurel insignia; to enter the city with you\r\nin triumph\u201d)\r\n\r\n24. Malebouche:  Slander, personified under the title\r\nof Evil-mouth  \u2014 Italian, \u201cMalbocca;\u201d French,\r\n\u201cMalebouche.\u201d\r\n\r\n25. Under support of them that list it read: the phrase\r\nmeans \u2014  trusting to the goodwill of my reader.\r\n\r\n26. In press:  into a crowd, into the press of\r\ncompetitors for favour; not, it need hardly be said,\r\n\u201cinto the press\u201d in the modern sense \u2014 printing was\r\nnot invented for a century after this was written.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE HOUSE OF FAME\r\n\r\n\r\n[Thanks partly to Pope\u2019s brief and elegant paraphrase, in his\r\n\u201cTemple of Fame,\u201d and partly to the familiar force of the style\r\nand the satirical significance of the allegory, \u201cThe House of\r\nFame\u201d is among the best known and relished of Chaucer\u2019s minor\r\npoems. The octosyllabic measure in which it is written \u2014 the\r\nsame which the author of \u201cHudibras\u201d used with such admirable\r\neffect \u2014 is excellently adapted for the vivid descriptions, the\r\nlively sallies of humour and sarcasm, with which the poem\r\nabounds; and when the poet actually does get to his subject, he\r\ntreats it with a zest, and a corresponding interest on the part of\r\nthe reader, which are scarcely surpassed by the best of The\r\nCanterbury Tales. The poet, however, tarries long on the way\r\nto the House of Fame; as Pope says in his advertisement, the\r\nreader who would compare his with Chaucer\u2019s poem, \u201cmay\r\nbegin with [Chaucer\u2019s] third Book of Fame, there being nothing\r\nin the two first books that answers to their title.\u201d The first book\r\nopens with a kind of prologue (actually so marked and called in\r\nearlier editions) in which the author speculates on the causes of\r\ndreams; avers that never any man had such a dream as he had\r\non the tenth of December; and prays the God of Sleep to help\r\nhim to interpret the dream, and the Mover of all things to\r\nreward or afflict those readers who take the dream well or ill.\r\nThen he relates that, having fallen asleep, he fancied himself\r\nwithin a temple of glass \u2014 the abode of Venus \u2014 the walls of\r\nwhich were painted with the story of Aeneas. The paintings are\r\ndescribed at length; and then the poet tells us that, coming out\r\nof the temple, he found himself on a vast sandy plain, and saw\r\nhigh in heaven an eagle, that began to descend towards him.\r\nWith the prologue, the first book numbers 508 lines; of which\r\n192 only \u2014 more than are actually concerned with or directly\r\nlead towards the real subject of the poem \u2014 are given here. The\r\nsecond book, containing 582 lines, of which 176 will be found\r\nin this edition, is wholly devoted to the voyage from the Temple\r\nof Venus to the House of Fame, which the dreamer\r\naccomplishes in the eagle\u2019s claws. The bird has been sent by\r\nJove to do the poet some \u201csolace\u201d in reward of his labours for\r\nthe cause of Love; and during the transit through the air the\r\nmessenger discourses obligingly and learnedly with his human\r\nburden on the theory of sound, by which all that is spoken must\r\nneeds reach the House of Fame; and on other matters suggested\r\nby their errand and their observations by the way. The third\r\nbook (of 1080 lines, only a score of which, just at the outset,\r\nhave been omitted) brings us to the real pith of the poem. It\r\nfinds the poet close to the House of Fame, built on a rock of ice\r\nengraved with names, many of which are half-melted away.\r\nEntering the gorgeous palace, he finds all manner of minstrels\r\nand historians; harpers, pipers, and trumpeters of fame;\r\nmagicians, jugglers, sorcerers, and many others. On a throne of\r\nruby sits the goddess, seeming at one moment of but a cubit\u2019s\r\nstature, at the next touching heaven; and at either hand, on\r\npillars, stand the great authors who \u201cbear up the name\u201d of\r\nancient nations. Crowds of people enter the hall from all regions\r\nof earth, praying the goddess to give them good or evil fame,\r\nwith and without their own deserts; and they receive answers\r\nfavourable, negative, or contrary, according to the caprice of\r\nFame. Pursuing his researches further, out of the region of\r\nreputation or fame proper into that of tidings or rumours, the\r\npoet is led, by a man who has entered into conversation with\r\nhim, to a vast whirling house of twigs, ever open to the arrival\r\nof tidings, ever full of murmurings, whisperings, and clatterings,\r\ncoming from the vast crowds that fill it \u2014 for every rumour,\r\nevery piece of news, every false report, appears there in the\r\nshape of the person who utters it, or passes it on, down in earth.\r\nOut at the windows innumerable, the tidings pass to Fame, who\r\ngives to each report its name and duration; and in the house\r\ntravellers, pilgrims, pardoners, couriers, lovers, &c., make a\r\nhuge clamour. But here the poet meets with a man \u201cof great\r\nauthority,\u201d and, half afraid, awakes; skilfully  \u2014 whether by\r\nintention, fatigue, or accident \u2014 leaving the reader disappointed\r\nby the nonfulfilment of what seemed to be promises of further\r\ndisclosures. The poem, not least in the passages the omission of\r\nwhich has been dictated by the exigencies of the present\r\nvolume, is full of testimony to the vast acquaintance of Chaucer\r\nwith learning ancient and modern; Ovid, Virgil, Statius, are\r\nequally at his command to illustrate his narrative or to furnish\r\nthe ground-work of his descriptions; while architecture, the\r\nArabic numeration, the theory of sound, and the effects of\r\ngunpowder, are only a few among the topics of his own time of\r\nwhich the poet treats with the ease of proficient knowledge.\r\nNot least interesting are the vivid touches in which Chaucer\r\nsketches the routine of his laborious and almost recluse daily\r\nlife; while the strength, individuality, and humour that mark the\r\ndidactic portion of the poem prove that \u201cThe House of Fame\u201d\r\nwas one of the poet\u2019s riper productions.]\r\n\r\nGOD turn us ev\u2019ry dream to good!\r\nFor it is wonder thing, by the Rood,*                         *Cross <1>\r\nTo my witte, what causeth swevens,*                              *dreams\r\nEither on morrows or on evens;\r\nAnd why th\u2019effect followeth of some,\r\nAnd of some it shall never come;\r\nWhy this is an avision\r\nAnd this a revelation;\r\nWhy this a dream, why that a sweven,\r\nAnd not to ev\u2019ry man *like even;*                                *alike*\r\nWhy this a phantom, why these oracles,\r\nI n\u2019ot; but whoso of these miracles\r\nThe causes knoweth bet than I,\r\nDivine* he; for I certainly                                      *define\r\n*Ne can them not,* nor ever think                     *do not know them*\r\nTo busy my wit for to swink*                                     *labour\r\nTo know of their significance\r\nThe genders, neither the distance\r\nOf times of them, nor the causes\r\nFor why that this more than that cause is;\r\nOr if folke\u2019s complexions\r\nMake them dream of reflections;\r\nOr elles thus, as others sayn,\r\nFor too great feebleness of the brain\r\nBy abstinence, or by sickness,\r\nBy prison, strife, or great distress,\r\nOr elles by disordinance*                                   *derangement\r\nOf natural accustomance;*                                  *mode of life\r\nThat some men be too curious\r\nIn study, or melancholious,\r\nOr thus, so inly full of dread,\r\nThat no man may them *boote bede;*                  *afford them relief*\r\nOr elles that devotion\r\nOf some, and contemplation,\r\nCauseth to them such dreames oft;\r\nOr that the cruel life unsoft\r\nOf them that unkind loves lead,\r\nThat often hope much or dread,\r\nThat purely their impressions\r\nCause them to have visions;\r\nOr if that spirits have the might\r\nTo make folk to dream a-night;\r\nOr if the soul, of *proper kind,*                       *its own nature*\r\nBe so perfect as men find,\r\nThat it forewot* what is to come,                             *foreknows\r\nAnd that it warneth all and some\r\nOf ev\u2019reach of their adventures,\r\nBy visions, or by figures,\r\nBut that our fleshe hath no might\r\nTo understanden it aright,\r\nFor it is warned too darkly;\r\nBut why the cause is, not wot I.\r\nWell worth of this thing greate clerks, <2>\r\nThat treat of this and other works;\r\nFor I of none opinion\r\nWill as now make mention;\r\nBut only that the holy Rood\r\nTurn us every dream to good.\r\nFor never since that I was born,\r\nNor no man elles me beforn,\r\nMette,* as I trowe steadfastly,                                 *dreamed\r\nSo wonderful a dream as I,\r\nThe tenthe day now of December;\r\nThe which, as I can it remember,\r\nI will you tellen ev\u2019ry deal.*                                     *whit\r\n\r\nBut at my beginning, truste weel,*                                 *well\r\nI will make invocation,\r\nWith special devotion,\r\nUnto the god of Sleep anon,\r\nThat dwelleth in a cave of stone, <3>\r\nUpon a stream that comes from Lete,\r\nThat is a flood of hell unsweet,\r\nBeside a folk men call Cimmerie;\r\nThere sleepeth ay this god unmerry,\r\nWith his sleepy thousand sones,\r\nThat alway for to sleep their won* is;                     *wont, custom\r\nAnd to this god, that I *of read,*                             *tell of*\r\nPray I, that he will me speed\r\nMy sweven for to tell aright,\r\nIf ev\u2019ry dream stands in his might.\r\nAnd he that Mover is of all\r\nThat is, and was, and ever shall,\r\nSo give them joye that it hear,\r\nOf alle that they dream to-year;*                             *this year\r\nAnd for to standen all in grace*                                 *favour\r\nOf their loves, or in what place\r\nThat them were liefest* for to stand,                      *most desired\r\nAnd shield them from povert\u2019 and shand,*                          *shame\r\nAnd from ev\u2019ry unhap and disease,\r\nAnd send them all that may them please,\r\nThat take it well, and scorn it not,\r\nNor it misdeemen* in their thought,                            *misjudge\r\nThrough malicious intention;\r\nAnd whoso, through presumption.\r\nOr hate, or scorn, or through envy,\r\nDespite, or jape,* or villainy,                                 *jesting\r\nMisdeem it, pray I Jesus God,\r\nThat dream he barefoot, dream he shod,\r\nThat ev\u2019ry harm that any man\r\nHath had since that the world began,\r\nBefall him thereof, ere he sterve,*                                 *die\r\nAnd grant that he may it deserve,*                         *earn, obtain\r\nLo! with such a conclusion\r\nAs had of his avision\r\nCroesus, that was the king of Lyde,<4>\r\nThat high upon a gibbet died;\r\nThis prayer shall he have of me;\r\nI am *no bet in charity.*                           *no more charitable*\r\n\r\nNow hearken, as I have you said,\r\nWhat that I mette ere I abraid,*                                  *awoke\r\nOf December the tenthe day;\r\nWhen it was night to sleep I lay,\r\nRight as I was wont for to do\u2019n,\r\nAnd fell asleepe wonder soon,\r\nAs he that *weary was for go*<5>                  *was weary from going*\r\nOn pilgrimage miles two\r\nTo the corsaint* Leonard,                                 *relics of <6>\r\nTo make lithe that erst was hard.\r\nBut, as I slept, me mette I was\r\nWithin a temple made of glass;\r\nIn which there were more images\r\nOf gold, standing in sundry stages,\r\nAnd more riche tabernacles,\r\nAnd with pierrie* more pinnacles,                                  *gems\r\nAnd more curious portraitures,\r\nAnd *quainte manner* of figures                          *strange kinds*\r\nOf golde work, than I saw ever.\r\nBut, certainly, I wiste* never                                     *knew\r\nWhere that it was, but well wist I\r\nIt was of Venus readily,\r\nThis temple; for in portraiture\r\nI saw anon right her figure\r\nNaked floating in a sea, <7>\r\nAnd also on her head, pardie,\r\nHer rose garland white and red,\r\nAnd her comb to comb her head,\r\nHer doves, and Dan Cupido,\r\nHer blinde son, and Vulcano, <8>\r\nThat in his face was full brown.\r\n\r\nAs he \u201croamed up and down,\u201d the dreamer saw on the wall a\r\ntablet of brass inscribed with the opening lines of the Aeneid;\r\nwhile the whole story of Aeneas was told in the \u201cportraitures\u201d\r\nand gold work. About three hundred and fifty lines are devoted\r\nto the description; but they merely embody Virgil\u2019s account of\r\nAeneas\u2019 adventures from the destruction of Troy to his arrival in\r\nItaly; and the only characteristic passage is the following\r\nreflection, suggested by the death of Dido for her perfidious but\r\nfate-compelled guest:\r\n\r\nLo! how a woman doth amiss,\r\nTo love him that unknowen is!\r\nFor, by Christ, lo! thus it fareth,\r\nIt is not all gold that glareth.*                              *glitters\r\nFor, all so brook I well my head,\r\nThere may be under goodlihead*                          *fair appearance\r\nCover\u2019d many a shrewed* vice;                                    *cursed\r\nTherefore let no wight be so nice*                              *foolish\r\nTo take a love only for cheer,*                                   *looks\r\nOr speech, or for friendly mannere;\r\nFor this shall ev\u2019ry woman find,\r\nThat some man, *of his pure kind,*               *by force of his nature\r\nWill showen outward the fairest,\r\nTill he have caught that which him lest;*                       *pleases\r\nAnd then anon will causes find,\r\nAnd sweare how she is unkind,\r\nOr false, or privy* double was.                                *secretly\r\nAll this say I by* Aeneas                             *with reference to\r\nAnd Dido, and her *nice lest,*                        *foolish pleasure*\r\nThat loved all too soon a guest;\r\nTherefore I will say a proverb,\r\nThat he that fully knows the herb\r\nMay safely lay it to his eye;\r\nWithoute dread,* this is no lie.                                  *doubt\r\n\r\nWhen the dreamer had seen all the sights in the temple, he\r\nbecame desirous to know who had worked all those wonders,\r\nand in what country he was; so he resolved to go out at the\r\nwicket, in search of somebody who might tell him.\r\n\r\nWhen I out at the doores came,\r\nI fast aboute me beheld;\r\nThen saw I but a large feld,*                              *open country\r\nAs far as that I mighte see,\r\nWIthoute town, or house, or tree,\r\nOr bush, or grass, or ered* land,                          *ploughed <9>\r\nFor all the field was but of sand,\r\nAs small* as men may see it lie                                    *fine\r\nIn the desert of Libye;\r\nNor no manner creature\r\nThat is formed by Nature,\r\nThere saw I, me to *rede or wiss.*                    *advise or direct*\r\n\u201cO Christ!\u201d thought I, \u201cthat art in bliss,\r\nFrom *phantom and illusion*                   *vain fancy and deception*\r\nMe save!\u201d and with devotion\r\nMine eyen to the heav\u2019n I cast.\r\nThen was I ware at the last\r\nThat, faste by the sun on high,\r\n*As kennen might I* with mine eye,          *as well as I might discern*\r\nMe thought I saw an eagle soar,\r\nBut that it seemed muche more*                                   *larger\r\nThan I had any eagle seen;\r\nThis is as sooth as death, certain,\r\nIt was of gold, and shone so bright,\r\nThat never saw men such a sight,\r\nBut if* the heaven had y-won,                                    *unless\r\nAll new from God, another sun;\r\nSo shone the eagle\u2019s feathers bright:\r\nAnd somewhat downward gan it light.*                    *descend, alight\r\n\r\nThe Second Book opens with a brief invocation of Venus and\r\nof Thought; then it proceeds:\r\n\r\nThis eagle, of which I have you told,\r\nThat shone with feathers as of gold,\r\nWhich that so high began to soar,\r\nI gan beholde more and more,\r\nTo see her beauty and the wonder;\r\nBut never was there dint of thunder,\r\nNor that thing that men calle foudre,*                      *thunderbolt\r\nThat smote sometimes a town to powder,\r\nAnd in his swifte coming brenn\u2019d,*                               *burned\r\nThat so swithe* gan descend,                                    *rapidly\r\nAs this fowl, when that it beheld\r\nThat I a-roam was in the feld;\r\nAnd with his grim pawes strong,\r\nWithin his sharpe nailes long,\r\nMe, flying, at a swap* he hent,**                         *swoop *seized\r\nAnd with his sours <10> again up went,\r\nMe carrying in his clawes stark*                                 *strong\r\nAs light as I had been a lark,\r\nHow high, I cannot telle you,\r\nFor I came up, I wist not how.\r\n\r\nThe poet faints through bewilderment and fear; but the eagle,\r\nspeaking with the voice of a man, recalls him to himself, and\r\ncomforts him by the assurance that what now befalls him is for\r\nhis instruction and profit. Answering the poet\u2019s unspoken\r\ninquiry whether he is not to die otherwise, or whether Jove will\r\nhim stellify, the eagle says that he has been sent by Jupiter out\r\nof his \u201cgreat ruth,\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cFor that thou hast so truely\r\nSo long served ententively*                         *with attentive zeal\r\nHis blinde nephew* Cupido,                                     *grandson\r\nAnd faire Venus also,\r\nWithoute guuerdon ever yet,\r\nAnd natheless hast set thy wit\r\n(Although that in thy head full lite* is)                        *little\r\nTo make bookes, songs, and ditties,\r\nIn rhyme or elles in cadence,\r\nAs thou best canst, in reverence\r\nOf Love, and of his servants eke,\r\nThat have his service sought, and seek,\r\nAnd pained thee to praise his art,\r\nAlthough thou haddest never part; <11>\r\nWherefore, all so God me bless,\r\nJovis holds it great humbless,\r\nAnd virtue eke, that thou wilt make\r\nA-night full oft thy head to ache,\r\nIn thy study so thou writest,\r\nAnd evermore of love enditest,\r\nIn honour of him and praisings,\r\nAnd in his folke\u2019s furtherings,\r\nAnd in their matter all devisest,*                              *relates\r\nAnd not him nor his folk despisest,\r\nAlthough thou may\u2019st go in the dance\r\nOf them that him list not advance.\r\nWherefore, as I said now, y-wis,\r\nJupiter well considers this;\r\nAnd also, beausire,* other things;                             *good sir\r\nThat is, that thou hast no tidings\r\nOf Love\u2019s folk, if they be glad,\r\nNor of naught elles that God made;\r\nAnd not only from far country\r\nThat no tidings come to thee,\r\nBut of thy very neighebours,\r\nThat dwellen almost at thy doors,\r\nThou hearest neither that nor this.\r\nFor when thy labour all done is,\r\nAnd hast y-made thy reckonings, <12>\r\nInstead of rest and newe things,\r\nThou go\u2019st home to thy house anon,\r\nAnd, all so dumb as any stone,\r\nThou sittest at another book,\r\nTill fully dazed* is thy look;                                  *blinded\r\nAnd livest thus as a hermite\r\nAlthough thine abstinence is lite.\u201d* <13>                        *little\r\n\r\nTherefore has Jove appointed the eagle to take the poet to the\r\nHouse of Fame, to do him some pleasure in recompense for his\r\ndevotion to Cupid; and he will hear, says the bird,\r\n\r\n\u201cWhen we be come there as I say,\r\nMore wondrous thinges, dare I lay,*                                 *bet\r\nOf Love\u2019s folke more tidings,\r\nBoth *soothe sawes and leasings;*                *true sayings and lies*\r\nAnd more loves new begun,\r\nAnd long y-served loves won,\r\nAnd more loves casually\r\nThat be betid,* no man knows why,                    *happened by chance\r\nBut as a blind man starts a hare;\r\nAnd more jollity and welfare,\r\nWhile that they finde *love of steel,*              *love true as steel*\r\nAs thinketh them, and over all weel;\r\nMore discords, and more jealousies,\r\nMore murmurs, and more novelties,\r\nAnd more dissimulations,\r\nAnd feigned reparations;\r\nAnd more beardes, in two hours,\r\nWithoute razor or scissours\r\nY-made, <14> than graines be of sands;\r\nAnd eke more holding in hands,*                              *embracings\r\nAnd also more renovelances*                                   *renewings\r\nOf old *forleten acquaintances;*          *broken-off acquaintanceships*\r\nMore love-days,<15> and more accords,*                       *agreements\r\nThan on instruments be chords;\r\nAnd eke of love more exchanges\r\nThan ever cornes were in granges.\u201d*                               *barns\r\n\r\nThe poet can scarcely believe that, though Fame had all the pies\r\n[magpies] and all the spies in a kingdom, she should hear so\r\nmuch; but the eagle proceeds to prove that she can.\r\n\r\nFirst shalt thou heare where she dwelleth;\r\nAnd, so as thine own booke telleth, <16>\r\nHer palace stands, as I shall say,\r\nRight ev\u2019n in middes of the way\r\nBetweene heav\u2019n, and earth, and sea,\r\nThat whatsoe\u2019er in all these three\r\nIs spoken, *privy or apert,*                        *secretly or openly*\r\nThe air thereto is so overt,*                                     *clear\r\nAnd stands eke in so just* a place,                            *suitable\r\nThat ev\u2019ry sound must to it pace,\r\nOr whatso comes from any tongue,\r\nBe it rowned,* read, or sung,                                 *whispered\r\nOr spoken in surety or dread,*                                    *doubt\r\nCertain *it must thither need.\u201d*              *it must needs go thither*\r\n\r\nThe eagle, in a long discourse, demonstrates that, as all natural\r\nthings have a natural place towards which they move by natural\r\ninclination, and as sound is only broken air, so every sound\r\nmust come to Fame\u2019s House, \u201cthough it were piped of a mouse\u201d\r\n\u2014 on the same principle by which every part of a mass of water\r\nis affected by the casting in of a stone. The poet is all the while\r\nborne upward, entertained with various information by the bird;\r\nwhich at last cries out \u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cHold up thy head, for all is well!\r\nSaint Julian, lo! bon hostel! <17>\r\nSee here the House of Fame, lo\r\nMay\u2019st thou not heare that I do?\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat?\u201d quoth I. \u201cThe greate soun\u2019,\u201d\r\nQuoth he, \u201cthat rumbleth up and down\r\nIn Fame\u2019s House, full of tidings,\r\nBoth of fair speech and of chidings,\r\nAnd of false and sooth compouned;*                  *compounded, mingled\r\nHearken well; it is not rowned.*                              *whispered\r\nHearest thou not the greate swough?\u201d*                    *confused sound\r\n\u201cYes, pardie!\u201d quoth I, \u201cwell enough.\u201d\r\nAnd what sound is it like?\u201d quoth he\r\n\u201cPeter! the beating of the sea,\u201d\r\nQuoth I, \u201cagainst the rockes hollow,\r\nWhen tempests do the shippes swallow.\r\nAnd let a man stand, out of doubt,\r\nA mile thence, and hear it rout.*                                  *roar\r\nOr elles like the last humbling*                 *dull low distant noise\r\nAfter the clap of a thund\u2019ring,\r\nWhen Jovis hath the air y-beat;\r\nBut it doth me for feare sweat.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, dread thee not thereof,\u201d quoth he;\r\n\u201cIt is nothing will bite thee,\r\nThou shalt no harme have, truly.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word both he and I\r\nAs nigh the place arrived were,\r\nAs men might caste with a spear.\r\nI wist not how, but in a street\r\nHe set me fair upon my feet,\r\nAnd saide: \u201cWalke forth apace,\r\nAnd take *thine adventure or case,*                  *thy chance of what\r\nThat thou shalt find in Fame\u2019s place.\u201d                       may befall*\r\n\u201cNow,\u201d quoth I, \u201cwhile we have space\r\nTo speak, ere that I go from thee,\r\nFor the love of God, as telle me,\r\nIn sooth, that I will of thee lear,*                              *learn\r\nIf this noise that I hear\r\nBe, as I have heard thee tell,\r\nOf folk that down in earthe dwell,\r\nAnd cometh here in the same wise\r\nAs I thee heard, ere this, devise?\r\nAnd that there living body n\u2019is*                                 *is not\r\nIn all that house that yonder is,\r\nThat maketh all this loude fare?\u201d*                          *hubbub, ado\r\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered he, \u201cby Saint Clare,\r\nAnd all *so wisly God rede me;*                           *so surely god\r\nBut one thing I will warne thee,                               guide me*\r\nOf the which thou wilt have wonder.\r\nLo! to the House of Fame yonder,\r\nThou know\u2019st how cometh ev\u2019ry speech;\r\nIt needeth not thee eft* to teach.                                *again\r\nBut understand now right well this;\r\nWhen any speech y-comen is\r\nUp to the palace, anon right\r\nIt waxeth* like the same wight**                       *becomes **person\r\nWhich that the word in earthe spake,\r\nBe he cloth\u2019d in red or black;\r\nAnd so weareth his likeness,\r\nAnd speaks the word, that thou wilt guess*                        *fancy\r\nThat it the same body be,\r\nWhether man or woman, he or she.\r\nAnd is not this a wondrous thing?\u201d\r\n\u201cYes,\u201d quoth I then, \u201cby Heaven\u2019s king!\u201d\r\nAnd with this word, \u201cFarewell,\u201d quoth he,\r\nAnd here I will abide* thee,                                   *wait for\r\nAnd God of Heaven send thee grace\r\nSome good to learen* in this place.\u201d                              *learn\r\nAnd I of him took leave anon,\r\nAnd gan forth to the palace go\u2019n.\r\n\r\nAt the opening of the Third Book, Chaucer briefly invokes\r\nApollo\u2019s guidance, and entreats him, because \u201cthe rhyme is light\r\nand lewd,\u201d to \u201cmake it somewhat agreeable, though some verse\r\nfail in a syllable.\u201d If the god answers the prayer, the poet\r\npromises to kiss the next laurel-tree <18> he sees; and he\r\nproceeds:\r\n\r\nWhen I was from this eagle gone,\r\nI gan behold upon this place;\r\nAnd certain, ere I farther pace,\r\nI will you all the shape devise*                               *describe\r\nOf house and city; and all the wise\r\nHow I gan to this place approach,\r\nThat stood upon so high a roche,*                             *rock <19>\r\nHigher standeth none in Spain;\r\nBut up I climb\u2019d with muche pain,\r\nAnd though to climbe *grieved me,*              *cost me painful effort*\r\nYet I ententive* was to see,                                  *attentive\r\nAnd for to pore* wondrous low,                             *gaze closely\r\nIf I could any wise know\r\nWhat manner stone this rocke was,\r\nFor it was like a thing of glass,\r\nBut that it shone full more clear\r\nBut of what congealed mattere\r\nIt was, I wist not readily,\r\nBut at the last espied I,\r\nAnd found that it was *ev\u2019ry deal*                            *entirely*\r\nA rock of ice, and not of steel.\r\nThought I, \u201cBy Saint Thomas of Kent, <20>\r\nThis were a feeble fundament*                                *foundation\r\n*To builden* a place so high;                         *on which to build\r\nHe ought him lite* to glorify                                    *little\r\nThat hereon built, God so me save!\u201d\r\n\r\nThen saw I all the half y-grave <21>\r\nWith famous folke\u2019s names fele,*                                   *many\r\nThat hadde been in muche weal,*                            *good fortune\r\nAnd their fames wide y-blow.\r\nBut well unnethes* might I know                                *scarcely\r\nAny letters for to read\r\nTheir names by; for out of dread*                                 *doubt\r\nThey were almost off thawed so,\r\nThat of the letters one or two\r\nWere molt* away of ev\u2019ry name,                                   *melted\r\nSo unfamous was wox* their fame;                                 *become\r\nBut men say, \u201cWhat may ever last?\u201d\r\nThen gan I in my heart to cast*                              *conjecture\r\nThat they were molt away for heat,\r\nAnd not away with stormes beat;\r\nFor on the other side I sey*                                        *saw\r\nOf this hill, that northward lay,\r\nHow it was written full of names\r\nOf folke that had greate fames\r\nOf olde times, and yet they were\r\nAs fresh as men had writ them there\r\nThe selfe day, right ere that hour\r\nThat I upon them gan to pore.\r\nBut well I wiste what it made;*                                   *meant\r\nIt was conserved with the shade,\r\nAll the writing which I sigh,*                                      *saw\r\nOf a castle that stood on high;\r\nAnd stood eke on so cold a place,\r\nThat heat might it not deface.*                         *injure, destroy\r\n\r\nThen gan I on this hill to go\u2019n,\r\nAnd found upon the cop* a won,**                    *summit <22> **house\r\nThat all the men that be alive\r\nHave not the *cunning to descrive*                   *skill to describe*\r\nThe beauty of that like place,\r\nNor coulde *caste no compass*                      *find no contrivance*\r\nSuch another for to make,\r\nThat might of beauty be its make,*                         *match, equal\r\nNor one so wondrously y-wrought,\r\nThat it astonieth yet my thought,\r\nAnd maketh all my wit to swink,*                                 *labour\r\nUpon this castle for to think;\r\nSo that the greate beauty,\r\nCast,* craft, and curiosity,                                  *ingenuity\r\nNe can I not to you devise;*                                   *describe\r\nMy witte may me not suffice.\r\nBut natheless all the substance\r\nI have yet in my remembrance;\r\nFor why, me thoughte, by Saint Gile,\r\nAlle was of stone of beryle,\r\nBothe the castle and the tow\u2019r,\r\nAnd eke the hall, and ev\u2019ry bow\u2019r,*                             *chamber\r\nWithoute pieces or joinings,\r\nBut many subtile compassings,*                             *contrivances\r\nAs barbicans* and pinnacles,                               *watch-towers\r\nImageries and tabernacles,\r\nI saw; and eke full of windows,\r\nAs flakes fall in greate snows.\r\nAnd eke in each of the pinnacles\r\nWere sundry habitacles,*                           *apartments or niches\r\nIn which stooden, all without,\r\nFull the castle all about,\r\nOf all manner of minstrales\r\nAnd gestiours,<23> that telle tales\r\nBoth of weeping and of game,*                                     *mirth\r\nOf all that longeth unto Fame.\r\n\r\nThere heard I play upon a harp,\r\nThat sounded bothe well and sharp,\r\nHim, Orpheus, full craftily;\r\nAnd on this side faste by\r\nSatte the harper Arion,<24>\r\nAnd eke Aeacides Chiron <25>\r\nAnd other harpers many a one,\r\nAnd the great Glasgerion; <26>\r\nAnd smalle harpers, with their glees,*                      *instruments\r\nSatten under them in sees,*                                       *seats\r\nAnd gan on them upward to gape,\r\nAnd counterfeit them as an ape,\r\nOr as *craft counterfeiteth kind.*             *art counterfeits nature*\r\nThen saw I standing them behind,\r\nAfar from them, all by themselve,\r\nMany thousand times twelve,\r\nThat made loude minstrelsies\r\nIn cornmuse and eke in shawmies, <27>\r\nAnd in many another pipe,\r\nThat craftily began to pipe,\r\nBoth in dulcet <28> and in reed,\r\nThat be at feastes with the bride.\r\nAnd many a flute and lilting horn,\r\nAnd pipes made of greene corn,\r\nAs have these little herde-grooms,*                       *shepherd-boys\r\nThat keepe beastes in the brooms.\r\nThere saw I then Dan Citherus,\r\nAnd of Athens Dan Pronomus, <29>\r\nAnd Marsyas <30> that lost his skin,\r\nBoth in the face, body, and chin,\r\nFor that he would envyen, lo!\r\nTo pipe better than Apollo.\r\nThere saw I famous, old and young,\r\nPipers of alle Dutche tongue, <31>\r\nTo learne love-dances and springs,\r\nReyes, <32> and these strange things.\r\nThen saw I in another place,\r\nStanding in a large space,\r\nOf them that make bloody* soun\u2019,                                *martial\r\nIn trumpet, beam,* and clarioun;                              *horn <33>\r\nFor in fight and blood-sheddings\r\nIs used gladly clarionings.\r\nThere heard I trumpe Messenus. <34>\r\nOf whom speaketh Virgilius.\r\nThere heard I Joab trump also, <35>\r\nTheodamas, <36> and other mo\u2019,\r\nAnd all that used clarion\r\nIn Catalogne and Aragon,\r\nThat in their times famous were\r\nTo learne, saw I trumpe there.\r\nThere saw I sit in other sees,\r\nPlaying upon sundry glees,\r\nWhiche that I cannot neven,*                                       *name\r\nMore than starres be in heaven;\r\nOf which I will not now rhyme,\r\nFor ease of you, and loss of time:\r\nFor time lost, this knowe ye,\r\nBy no way may recover\u2019d be.\r\n\r\nThere saw I play jongelours,*                             *jugglers <37>\r\nMagicians, and tregetours,<38>\r\nAnd Pythonesses, <39>  charmeresses,\r\nAnd old witches, and sorceresses,\r\nThat use exorcisations,\r\nAnd eke subfumigations; <40>\r\nAnd clerkes* eke, which knowe well                             *scholars\r\nAll this magic naturel,\r\nThat craftily do their intents,\r\nTo make, in certain ascendents, <41>\r\nImages, lo! through which magic\r\nTo make a man be whole or sick.\r\nThere saw I the queen Medea, <42>\r\nAnd Circes <43> eke, and Calypsa.<44>\r\nThere saw I Hermes Ballenus, <45>\r\nLimote, <46> and eke Simon Magus. <47>\r\nThere saw I, and knew by name,\r\nThat by such art do men have fame.\r\nThere saw I Colle Tregetour <46>\r\nUpon a table of sycamore\r\nPlay an uncouth* thing to tell;                           *strange, rare\r\nI saw him carry a windmell\r\nUnder a walnut shell.\r\nWhy should I make longer tale\r\nOf all the people I there say,*                                     *saw\r\nFrom hence even to doomesday?\r\n\r\nWhen I had all this folk behold,\r\nAnd found me *loose, and not y-hold,*      *at liberty and unrestrained*\r\nAnd I had mused longe while\r\nUpon these walles of beryle,\r\nThat shone lighter than any glass,\r\nAnd made *well more* than it was                           *much greater\r\nTo seemen ev\u2019rything, y-wis,\r\nAs kindly* thing of Fame it is; <48>                            *natural\r\nI gan forth roam until I fand*                                    *found\r\nThe castle-gate on my right hand,\r\nWhich all so well y-carven was,\r\nThat never such another n\u2019as;*                                  *was not\r\nAnd yet it was by Adventure*                                     *chance\r\nY-wrought, and not by *subtile cure.*                      *careful art*\r\nIt needeth not you more to tell,\r\nTo make you too longe dwell,\r\nOf these gates\u2019 flourishings,\r\nNor of compasses,* nor carvings,                                *devices\r\nNor how they had in masonries,\r\nAs corbets, <49> full of imageries.\r\nBut, Lord! so fair it was to shew,\r\nFor it was all with gold behew.*                               *coloured\r\nBut in I went, and that anon;\r\nThere met I crying many a one\r\n\u201cA largess! largess! <50> hold up well!\r\nGod save the Lady of this pell,*                                 *palace\r\nOur owen gentle Lady Fame,\r\nAnd them that will to have name\r\nOf us!\u201d Thus heard I cryen all,\r\nAnd fast they came out of the hall,\r\nAnd shooke *nobles and sterlings,*                           *coins <51>\r\nAnd some y-crowned were as kings,\r\nWith crownes wrought fall of lozenges;\r\nAnd many ribands, and many fringes,\r\nWere on their clothes truely\r\nThen at the last espied I\r\nThat pursuivantes and herauds,*                                 *heralds\r\nThat cry riche folke\u2019s lauds,*                                  *praises\r\nThey weren all; and ev\u2019ry man\r\nOf them, as I you telle can,\r\nHad on him throwen a vesture\r\nWhich that men call a coat-armure, <52>\r\nEmbroidered wondrously rich,\r\nAs though there were *naught y-lich;*                  *nothing like it*\r\nBut naught will I, so may I thrive,\r\n*Be aboute to descrive*                 *concern myself with describing*\r\nAll these armes that there were,\r\nThat they thus on their coates bare,\r\nFor it to me were impossible;\r\nMen might make of them a bible\r\nTwenty foote thick, I trow.\r\nFor, certain, whoso coulde know\r\nMight there all the armes see\u2019n\r\nOf famous folk that have been\r\nIn Afric\u2019, Europe, and Asie,\r\nSince first began the chivalry.\r\n\r\nLo! how should I now tell all this?\r\nNor of the hall eke what need is\r\nTo telle you that ev\u2019ry wall\r\nOf it, and floor, and roof, and all,\r\nWas plated half a foote thick\r\nOf gold, and that was nothing wick\u2019,*                       *counterfeit\r\nBut for to prove in alle wise\r\nAs fine as ducat of Venise, <53>\r\nOf which too little in my pouch is?\r\nAnd they were set as thick of nouches*                        *ornaments\r\nFine, of the finest stones fair,\r\nThat men read in the Lapidaire, <54>\r\nAs grasses growen in a mead.\r\nBut it were all too long to read*                               *declare\r\nThe names; and therefore I pass.\r\nBut in this rich and lusty place,\r\nThat Fame\u2019s Hall y-called was,\r\nFull muche press of folk there n\u2019as,*                           *was not\r\nNor crowding for too muche press.\r\nBut all on high, above a dais,\r\nSet on a see* imperial, <55>                                       *seat\r\nThat made was of ruby all,\r\nWhich that carbuncle is y-call\u2019d,\r\nI saw perpetually install\u2019d\r\nA feminine creature;\r\nThat never formed by Nature\r\nWas such another thing y-sey.*                                     *seen\r\nFor altherfirst,* sooth to say,                            *first of all\r\nMe thoughte that she was so lite,*                               *little\r\nThat the length of a cubite\r\nWas longer than she seem\u2019d to be;\r\nBut thus soon in a while she\r\nHerself then wonderfully stretch\u2019d,\r\nThat with her feet the earth she reach\u2019d,\r\nAnd with her head she touched heaven,\r\nWhere as shine the starres seven. <56>\r\nAnd thereto* eke, as to my wit,                                *moreover\r\nI saw a greater wonder yet,\r\nUpon her eyen to behold;\r\nBut certes I them never told.\r\nFor *as fele eyen* hadde she,                             *as many eyes*\r\nAs feathers upon fowles be,\r\nOr were on the beastes four\r\nThat Godde\u2019s throne gan honour,\r\nAs John writ in th\u2019Apocalypse. <57>\r\nHer hair, that *oundy was and crips,*              *wavy <58> and crisp*\r\nAs burnish\u2019d gold it shone to see;\r\nAnd, sooth to tellen, also she\r\nHad all so fele* upstanding ears,                                  *many\r\nAnd tongues, as on beasts be hairs;\r\nAnd on her feet waxen saw I\r\nPartridges\u2019 winges readily.<59>\r\nBut, Lord! the pierrie* and richess                     *gems, jewellery\r\nI saw sitting on this goddess,\r\nAnd the heavenly melody\r\nOf songes full of harmony,\r\nI heard about her throne y-sung,\r\nThat all the palace walles rung!\r\n(So sung the mighty Muse, she\r\nThat called is Calliope,\r\nAnd her eight sisteren* eke,                                    *sisters\r\nThat in their faces seeme meek);\r\nAnd evermore eternally\r\nThey sang of Fame as then heard I:\r\n\u201cHeried* be thou and thy name,                                  *praised\r\nGoddess of Renown and Fame!\u201d\r\nThen was I ware, lo! at the last,\r\nAs I mine eyen gan upcast,\r\nThat this ilke noble queen\r\nOn her shoulders gan sustene*                                   *sustain\r\nBoth the armes, and the name\r\nOf those that hadde large fame;\r\nAlexander, and Hercules,\r\nThat with a shirt his life lese.* <60>                             *lost\r\nThus found I sitting this goddess,\r\nIn noble honour and richess;\r\nOf which I stint* a while now,                  *refrain (from speaking)\r\nOf other things to telle you.\r\n\r\nThen saw I stand on either side,\r\nStraight down unto the doores wide,\r\nFrom the dais, many a pillere\r\nOf metal, that shone not full clear;\r\nBut though they were of no richess,\r\nYet were they made for great nobless,\r\nAnd in them greate sentence.*                              *significance\r\nAnd folk of digne* reverence,                             *worthy, lofty\r\nOf which *I will you telle fand,*               *I will try to tell you*\r\nUpon the pillars saw I stand.\r\nAltherfirst, lo! there I sigh*                                      *saw\r\nUpon a pillar stand on high,\r\nThat was of lead and iron fine,\r\nHim of the secte Saturnine, <61>\r\nThe Hebrew Josephus the old,\r\nThat of Jewes\u2019 gestes* told;                            *deeds of braver\r\nAnd he bare on his shoulders high\r\nAll the fame up of Jewry.\r\nAnd by him stooden other seven,\r\nFull wise and worthy for to neven,*                                *name\r\nTo help him bearen up the charge,*                               *burden\r\nIt was so heavy and so large.\r\nAnd, for they writen of battailes,\r\nAs well as other old marvailes,\r\nTherefore was, lo! this pillere,\r\nOf which that I you telle here,\r\nOf lead and iron both, y-wis;\r\nFor iron Marte\u2019s metal is, <62>\r\nWhich that god is of battaile;\r\nAnd eke the lead, withoute fail,\r\nIs, lo! the metal of Saturn,\r\nThat hath full large wheel* to turn.                              *orbit\r\nThen stoode forth, on either row,\r\nOf them which I coulde know,\r\nThough I them not by order tell,\r\nTo make you too longe dwell.\r\nThese, of the which I gin you read,\r\nThere saw I standen, out of dread,\r\nUpon an iron pillar strong,\r\nThat painted was all endelong*                      *from top to bottom*\r\nWith tiger\u2019s blood in ev\u2019ry place,\r\nThe Tholosan that highte Stace, <63>\r\nThat bare of Thebes up the name\r\nUpon his shoulders, and the fame\r\nAlso of cruel Achilles.\r\nAnd by him stood, withoute lease,*                            *falsehood\r\nFull wondrous high on a pillere\r\nOf iron, he, the great Homere;\r\nAnd with him Dares and Dytus, <64>\r\nBefore, and eke he, Lollius, <65>\r\nAnd Guido eke de Colempnis, <66>\r\nAnd English Gaufrid <67> eke, y-wis.\r\nAnd each of these, as I have joy,\r\nWas busy for to bear up Troy;\r\nSo heavy thereof was the fame,\r\nThat for to bear it was no game.\r\nBut yet I gan full well espy,\r\nBetwixt them was a little envy.\r\nOne said that Homer made lies,\r\nFeigning in his poetries,\r\nAnd was to the Greeks favourable;\r\nTherefore held he it but a fable.\r\nThen saw I stand on a pillere\r\nThat was of tinned iron clear,\r\nHim, the Latin poet Virgile,\r\nThat borne hath up a longe while\r\nThe fame of pious Aeneas.\r\nAnd next him on a pillar was\r\nOf copper, Venus\u2019 clerk Ovide,\r\nThat hath y-sowen wondrous wide\r\nThe greate god of Love\u2019s fame.\r\nAnd there he bare up well his name\r\nUpon this pillar all so high,\r\nAs I might see it with mine eye;\r\nFor why? this hall whereof I read\r\nWas waxen in height, and length, and bread,*                    *breadth\r\nWell more by a thousand deal*                                     *times\r\nThan it was erst, that saw I weel.\r\nThen saw I on a pillar by,\r\nOf iron wrought full sternely,\r\nThe greate poet, Dan Lucan,\r\nThat on his shoulders bare up than,\r\nAs high as that I might it see,\r\nThe fame of Julius and Pompey; <68>\r\nAnd by him stood all those clerks\r\nThat write of Rome\u2019s mighty works,\r\nThat if I would their names tell,\r\nAll too longe must I dwell.\r\nAnd next him on a pillar stood\r\nOf sulphur, like as he were wood,*                                  *mad\r\nDan Claudian, <69> the sooth to tell,\r\nThat bare up all the fame of hell,\r\nOf Pluto, and of Proserpine,\r\nThat queen is of *the darke pine*               *the dark realm of pain*\r\nWhy should I telle more of this?\r\nThe hall was alle fulle, y-wis,\r\nOf them that writen olde gests,*               *histories of great deeds\r\nAs be on trees rookes\u2019 nests;\r\nBut it a full confus\u2019d mattere\r\nWere all these gestes for to hear,\r\nThat they of write, and how they hight.*                     *are called\r\n\r\n But while that I beheld this sight,\r\nI heard a noise approache blive,*                               *quickly\r\nThat far\u2019d* as bees do in a hive,                                  *went\r\nAgainst their time of outflying;\r\nRight such a manner murmuring,\r\nFor all the world, it seem\u2019d to me.\r\nThen gan I look about, and see\r\nThat there came entering the hall\r\nA right great company withal,\r\nAnd that of sundry regions,\r\nOf all kinds and conditions\r\nThat dwell in earth under the moon,\r\nBoth poor and rich; and all so soon\r\nAs they were come into the hall,\r\nThey gan adown on knees to fall,\r\nBefore this ilke* noble queen,                                     *same\r\nAnd saide, \u201cGrant us, Lady sheen,*                       *bright, lovely\r\nEach of us of thy grace a boon.\u201d*                                *favour\r\nAnd some of them she granted soon,\r\nAnd some she warned* well and fair,                             *refused\r\nAnd some she granted the contrair*                             *contrary\r\nOf their asking utterly;\r\nBut this I say you truely,\r\nWhat that her cause was, I n\u2019ist;*                   *wist not, know not\r\nFor of these folk full well I wist,\r\nThey hadde good fame each deserved,\r\nAlthough they were diversely served.\r\nRight as her sister, Dame Fortune,\r\nIs wont to serven *in commune.*                      *commonly, usually*\r\n\r\nNow hearken how she gan to pay\r\nThem that gan of her grace to pray;\r\nAnd right, lo! all this company\r\nSaide sooth,* and not a lie.                                      *truth\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d thus quoth they, \u201cwe be\r\nFolk that here beseeche thee\r\nThat thou grant us now good fame,\r\nAnd let our workes have good name\r\nIn full recompensatioun\r\nOf good work, give us good renown\r\n\u201cI warn* it you,\u201d quoth she anon;                                *refuse\r\n\u201cYe get of me good fame none,\r\nBy God! and therefore go your way.\u201d\r\n\u201cAlas,\u201d quoth they, \u201cand well-away!\r\nTell us what may your cause be.\u201d\r\n\u201cFor that it list* me not,\u201d quoth she,                          *pleases\r\nNo wight shall speak of you, y-wis,\r\nGood nor harm, nor that nor this.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word she gan to call\r\nHer messenger, that was in hall,\r\nAnd bade that he should faste go\u2019n,\r\nUpon pain to be blind anon,\r\nFor Aeolus, the god of wind;\r\n\u201cIn Thrace there ye shall him find,\r\nAnd bid him bring his clarioun,\r\nThat is full diverse of his soun\u2019,\r\nAnd it is called Cleare Laud,\r\nWith which he wont is to heraud*                               *proclaim\r\nThem that me list y-praised be,\r\nAnd also bid him how that he\r\nBring eke his other clarioun,\r\nThat hight* Slander in ev\u2019ry town,                            *is called\r\nWith which he wont is to diffame*                     *defame, disparage\r\nThem that me list, and do them shame.\u201d\r\nThis messenger gan faste go\u2019n,\r\nAnd found where, in a cave of stone,\r\nIn a country that highte Thrace,\r\nThis Aeolus, *with harde grace,*               *Evil favour attend him!*\r\nHelde the windes in distress,*                               *constraint\r\nAnd gan them under him to press,\r\nThat they began as bears to roar,\r\nHe bound and pressed them so sore.\r\nThis messenger gan fast to cry,\r\n\u201cRise up,\u201d quoth he, \u201cand fast thee hie,\r\nUntil thou at my Lady be,\r\nAnd take thy clarions eke with thee,\r\nAnd speed thee forth.\u201d And he anon\r\nTook to him one that hight Triton, <70>\r\nHis clarions to beare tho,*                                        *then\r\nAnd let a certain winde go,\r\nThat blew so hideously and high,\r\nThat it lefte not a sky*                                     *cloud <71>\r\nIn all the welkin* long and broad.                                  *sky\r\nThis Aeolus nowhere abode*                                      *delayed\r\nTill he was come to Fame\u2019s feet,\r\nAnd eke the man that Triton hete,*                            *is called\r\nAnd there he stood as still as stone.\r\n\r\nAnd therewithal there came anon\r\nAnother huge company\r\nOf goode folk, and gan to cry,\r\n\u201cLady, grant us goode fame,\r\nAnd let our workes have that name,\r\nNow in honour of gentleness;\r\nAnd all so God your soule bless;\r\nFor we have well deserved it,\r\nTherefore is right we be well quit.\u201d*                          *requited\r\n\u201cAs thrive I,\u201d quoth she, \u201cye shall fail;\r\nGood workes shall you not avail\r\nTo have of me good fame as now;\r\nBut, wot ye what, I grante you.\r\nThat ye shall have a shrewde* fame,                        *evil, cursed\r\nAnd wicked los,* and worse name,                        *reputation <72>\r\nThough ye good los have well deserv\u2019d;\r\nNow go your way, for ye be serv\u2019d.\r\nAnd now, Dan Aeolus,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cTake forth thy trump anon, let see,\r\nThat is y-called Slander light,\r\nAnd blow their los, that ev\u2019ry wight\r\nSpeak of them harm and shrewedness,*                 *wickedness, malice\r\nInstead of good and worthiness;\r\nFor thou shalt trump all the contrair\r\nOf that they have done, well and fair.\u201d\r\nAlas! thought I, what adventures*                       *(evil) fortunes\r\nHave these sorry creatures,\r\nThat they, amonges all the press,\r\nShould thus be shamed guilteless?\r\nBut what! it muste needes be.\r\nWhat did this Aeolus, but he\r\nTook out his blacke trump of brass,\r\nThat fouler than the Devil was,\r\nAnd gan this trumpet for to blow,\r\nAs all the world \u2019t would overthrow.\r\nThroughout every regioun\r\nWent this foule trumpet\u2019s soun\u2019,\r\nAs swift as pellet out of gun\r\nWhen fire is in the powder run.\r\nAnd such a smoke gan out wend,*                                      *go\r\nOut of this foule trumpet\u2019s end,\r\nBlack, blue, greenish, swart,* and red,                      *black <73>\r\nAs doth when that men melt lead,\r\nLo! all on high from the tewell;*                          *chimney <74>\r\nAnd thereto* one thing saw I well,                                 *also\r\nThat the farther that it ran,\r\nThe greater waxen it began,\r\nAs doth the river from a well,*                                *fountain\r\nAnd it stank as the pit of hell.\r\nAlas! thus was their shame y-rung,\r\nAnd guilteless, on ev\u2019ry tongue.\r\n\r\nThen came the thirde company,\r\nAnd gan up to the dais to hie,*                                  *hasten\r\nAnd down on knees they fell anon,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cWe be ev\u2019ry one\r\nFolk that have full truely\r\nDeserved fame right fully,\r\nAnd pray you that it may be know\r\nRight as it is, and forth y-blow.\u201d\r\n\u201cI grante,\u201d quoth she, \u201cfor me list\r\nThat now your goode works be wist;*                               *known\r\nAnd yet ye shall have better los,\r\nIn despite of all your foes,\r\nThan worthy* is, and that anon.                                 *merited\r\nLet now,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthy trumpet go\u2019n,\r\nThou Aeolus, that is so black,\r\nAnd out thine other trumpet take,\r\nThat highte Laud, and blow it so\r\nThat through the world their fame may go,\r\nEasily and not too fast,\r\nThat it be knowen at the last.\u201d\r\n\u201cFull gladly, Lady mine,\u201d he said;\r\nAnd out his trump of gold he braid*                        *pulled forth\r\nAnon, and set it to his mouth,\r\nAnd blew it east, and west, and south,\r\nAnd north, as loud as any thunder,\r\nThat ev\u2019ry wight had of it wonder,\r\nSo broad it ran ere that it stent.*                              *ceased\r\nAnd certes all the breath that went\r\nOut of his trumpet\u2019s mouthe smell\u2019d\r\nAs* men a pot of balme held                                       *as if\r\nAmong a basket full of roses;\r\nThis favour did he to their loses.*                         *reputations\r\n\r\nAnd right with this I gan espy\r\nWhere came the fourthe company.\r\nBut certain they were wondrous few;\r\nAnd gan to standen in a rew,*                                       *row\r\nAnd saide, \u201cCertes, Lady bright,\r\nWe have done well with all our might,\r\nBut we *not keep* to have fame;                                *care not\r\nHide our workes and our name,\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love! for certes we\r\nHave surely done it for bounty,*                       *goodness, virtue\r\nAnd for no manner other thing.\u201d\r\n\u201cI grante you all your asking,\u201d\r\nQuoth she; \u201clet your workes be dead.\u201d\r\n\r\nWith that I turn\u2019d about my head,\r\nAnd saw anon the fifthe rout,*                                  *company\r\nThat to this Lady gan to lout,*                                *bow down\r\nAnd down on knees anon to fall;\r\nAnd to her then besoughten all\r\nTo hide their good workes eke,\r\nAnd said, they gave* not a leek                                   *cared\r\nFor no fame, nor such renown;\r\nFor they for contemplatioun\r\nAnd Godde\u2019s love had y-wrought,\r\nNor of fame would they have aught.\r\n\u201cWhat!\u201d quoth she, \u201cand be ye wood?\r\nAnd *weene ye* for to do good,                           *do ye imagine*\r\nAnd for to have of that no fame?\r\n*Have ye despite* to have my name?                       *do ye despise*\r\nNay, ye shall lie every one!\r\nBlow thy trump, and that anon,\u201d\r\nQuoth she, \u201cthou Aeolus, I hote,*                               *command\r\nAnd ring these folkes works by note,\r\nThat all the world may of it hear.\u201d\r\nAnd he gan blow their los* so clear                          *reputation\r\nWithin his golden clarioun,\r\nThat through the worlde went the soun\u2019,\r\nAll so kindly, and so soft,\r\nThat their fame was blown aloft.\r\n\r\nAnd then came the sixth company,\r\nAnd gunnen* fast on Fame to cry;                                  *began\r\nRight verily in this mannere\r\nThey saide; \u201cMercy, Lady dear!\r\nTo telle certain as it is,\r\nWe have done neither that nor this,\r\nBut idle all our life hath be;*                                    *been\r\nBut natheless yet praye we\r\nThat we may have as good a fame,\r\nAnd great renown, and knowen* name,                          *well-known\r\nAs they that have done noble gests,*                             *feats.\r\nAnd have achieved all their quests,*               *enterprises; desires\r\nAs well of Love, as other thing;\r\nAll* was us never brooch, nor ring,                            *although\r\nNor elles aught from women sent,\r\nNor ones in their hearte meant\r\nTo make us only friendly cheer,\r\nBut mighte *teem us upon bier;*                *might lay us on our bier\r\nYet let us to the people seem              (by their adverse demeanour)*\r\nSuch as the world may of us deem,*                                *judge\r\nThat women loven us for wood.*                                    *madly\r\nIt shall us do as muche good,\r\nAnd to our heart as much avail,\r\nThe counterpoise,* ease, and travail,                      *compensation\r\nAs we had won it with labour;\r\nFor that is deare bought honour,\r\n*At the regard of* our great ease.                  *in comparison with*\r\n*And yet* ye must us more please;                          *in addition*\r\nLet us be holden eke thereto\r\nWorthy, and wise, and good also,\r\nAnd rich, and happy unto love,\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, that sits above;\r\nThough we may not the body have\r\nOf women, yet, so God you save,\r\nLet men glue* on us the name;                                    *fasten\r\nSufficeth that we have the fame.\u201d\r\n\u201cI grante,\u201d quoth she, \u201cby my troth;\r\nNow Aeolus, withoute sloth,\r\nTake out thy trump of gold,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cAnd blow as they have asked me,\r\nThat ev\u2019ry man ween* them at ease,                              *believe\r\nAlthough they go in full *bad leas.\u201d*                     *sorry plight*\r\nThis Aeolus gan it so blow,\r\nThat through the world it was y-know.\r\n\r\nThen came the seventh rout anon,\r\nAnd fell on knees ev\u2019ry one,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cLady, grant us soon\r\nThe same thing, the same boon,\r\nWhich *this next folk* you have done.\u201d       *the people just before us*\r\n\u201cFy on you,\u201d quoth she, \u201cev\u2019ry one!\r\nYe nasty swine, ye idle wretches,\r\nFull fill\u2019d of rotten slowe tetches!*                    *blemishes <75>\r\nWhat? false thieves! ere ye would\r\n*Be famous good,* and nothing n\u2019ould                    *have good fame*\r\nDeserve why, nor never raught,*                *recked, cared (to do so)\r\nMen rather you to hangen ought.\r\nFor ye be like the sleepy cat,\r\nThat would have fish; but, know\u2019st thou what?\r\nHe woulde no thing wet his claws.\r\nEvil thrift come to your jaws,\r\nAnd eke to mine, if I it grant,\r\nOr do favour you to avaunt.*                           *boast your deeds\r\nThou Aeolus, thou King of Thrace,\r\nGo, blow this folk a *sorry grace,\u201d*                           *disgrace\r\nQuoth she, \u201canon; and know\u2019st thou how?\r\nAs I shall telle thee right now,\r\nSay, these be they that would honour\r\nHave, and do no kind of labour,\r\nNor do no good, and yet have laud,\r\nAnd that men ween\u2019d that Belle Isaude <76>\r\n*Could them not of love wern;*          *could not refuse them her love*\r\nAnd yet she that grinds at the quern*                         *mill <77>\r\nIs all too good to ease their heart.\u201d\r\nThis Aeolus anon upstart,\r\nAnd with his blacke clarioun\r\nHe gan to blazen out a soun\u2019\r\nAs loud as bellows wind in hell;\r\nAnd eke therewith, the sooth to tell,\r\nThis sounde was so full of japes,*                                *jests\r\nAs ever were mows* in apes;                                    *grimaces\r\nAnd that went all the world about,\r\nThat ev\u2019ry wight gan on them shout,\r\nAnd for to laugh as they were wood;*                                *mad\r\n*Such game found they in their hood.* <78>      *so were they ridiculed*\r\n\r\nThen came another company,\r\nThat hadde done the treachery,\r\nThe harm, and the great wickedness,\r\nThat any hearte coulde guess;\r\nAnd prayed her to have good fame,\r\nAnd that she would do them no shame,\r\nBut give them los and good renown,\r\nAnd *do it blow* in clarioun.                     *cause it to be blown*\r\n\u201cNay, wis!\u201d quoth she, \u201cit were a vice;\r\nAll be there in me no justice,\r\nMe liste not to do it now,\r\nNor this will I grant to you.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen came there leaping in a rout,*                               *crowd\r\nAnd gan to clappen* all about                             *strike, knock\r\nEvery man upon the crown,\r\nThat all the hall began to soun\u2019;\r\nAnd saide; \u201cLady lefe* and dear,                                  *loved\r\nWe be such folk as ye may hear.\r\nTo tellen all the tale aright,\r\nWe be shrewes* every wight,                      *wicked, impious people\r\nAnd have delight in wickedness,\r\nAs goode folk have in goodness,\r\nAnd joy to be y-knowen shrews,\r\nAnd full of vice and *wicked thews;*                    *evil qualities*\r\nWherefore we pray you *on a row,*                         *all together*\r\nThat our fame be such y-know\r\nIn all things right as it is.\u201d\r\n\u201cI grant it you,\u201d quoth she, \u201cy-wis.\r\nBut what art thou that say\u2019st this tale,\r\nThat wearest on thy hose a pale,*                       *vertical stripe\r\nAnd on thy tippet such a bell?\u201d\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth he, \u201csooth to tell,\r\nI am *that ilke shrew,* y-wis,                         *the same wretch*\r\nThat burnt the temple of Isidis,\r\nIn Athenes, lo! that city.\u201d <79>\r\n\u201cAnd wherefore didst thou so?\u201d quoth she.\r\n\u201cBy my thrift!\u201d quoth he, \u201cMadame,\r\nI woulde fain have had a name\r\nAs other folk had in the town;\r\nAlthough they were of great renown\r\nFor their virtue and their thews,*                       *good qualities\r\nThought I, as great fame have shrews\r\n(Though it be naught) for shrewdeness,\r\nAs good folk have for goodeness;\r\nAnd since I may not have the one,\r\nThe other will I not forgo\u2019n.\r\nSo for to gette *fame\u2019s hire,*                      *the reward of fame*\r\nThe temple set I all afire.\r\n*Now do our los be blowen swithe,\r\nAs wisly be thou ever blithe.\u201d*                           *see note <80>\r\n\u201cGladly,\u201d quoth she; \u201cthou Aeolus,\r\nHear\u2019st thou what these folk prayen us?\u201d\r\n\u201cMadame, I hear full well,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cAnd I will trumpen it, pardie!\u201d\r\nAnd took his blacke trumpet fast,\r\nAnd gan to puffen and to blast,\r\nTill it was at the worlde\u2019s end.\r\n\r\nWith that I gan *aboute wend,*                                    *turn*\r\nFor one that stood right at my back\r\nMe thought full goodly* to me spake,                *courteously, fairly\r\nAnd saide, \u201cFriend, what is thy name?\r\nArt thou come hither to have fame?\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, *for soothe,* friend!\u201d quoth I;                           *surely*\r\n\u201cI came not hither, *grand mercy,*                        *great thanks*\r\nFor no such cause, by my head!\r\nSufficeth me, as I were dead,\r\nThat no wight have my name in hand.\r\nI wot myself best how I stand,\r\nFor what I dree,* or what I think,                               *suffer\r\nI will myself it alle drink,\r\nCertain, for the more part,\r\nAs far forth as I know mine art.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat doest thou here, then,\u201d quoth he.\r\nQuoth I, \u201cThat will I telle thee;\r\nThe cause why I stande here,\r\nIs some new tidings for to lear,*                                 *learn\r\nSome newe thing, I know not what,\r\nTidings either this or that,\r\nOf love, or suche thinges glad.\r\nFor, certainly, he that me made\r\nTo come hither, said to me\r\nI shoulde bothe hear and see\r\nIn this place wondrous things;\r\nBut these be not such tidings\r\nAs I meant of.\u201d \u201cNo?\u201d quoth he.\r\nAnd I answered, \u201cNo, pardie!\r\nFor well I wot ever yet,\r\nSince that first I hadde wit,\r\nThat some folk have desired fame\r\nDiversely, and los, and name;\r\nBut certainly I knew not how\r\nNor where that Fame dwelled, ere now\r\nNor eke of her description,\r\nNor also her condition,\r\nNor *the order of her doom,*            *the principle of her judgments*\r\nKnew I not till I hither come.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhy, then, lo! be these tidings,\r\nThat thou nowe hither brings,\r\nThat thou hast heard?\u201d quoth he to me.\r\n\u201cBut now *no force,* for well I see                          *no matter*\r\nWhat thou desirest for to lear.\u201d\r\nCome forth, and stand no longer here.\r\nAnd I will thee, withoute dread,*                                 *doubt\r\nInto another place lead,\r\nWhere thou shalt hear many a one.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen gan I forth with him to go\u2019n\r\nOut of the castle, sooth to say.\r\nThen saw I stand in a vally,\r\nUnder the castle faste by,\r\nA house, that domus Daedali,\r\nThat Labyrinthus <81> called is,\r\nN\u2019as* made so wondrously, y-wis,                                *was not\r\nNor half so quaintly* was y-wrought.                          *strangely\r\nAnd evermore, as swift as thought,\r\nThis quainte* house aboute went,                                *strange\r\nThat nevermore it *stille stent;*                       *ceased to move*\r\nAnd thereout came so great a noise,\r\nThat had it stooden upon Oise, <82>\r\nMen might have heard it easily\r\nTo Rome, I *trowe sickerly.*                       *confidently believe*\r\nAnd the noise which I heard,\r\nFor all the world right so it far\u2019d\r\nAs doth the routing* of the stone                        *rushing noise*\r\nThat from the engine<83> is let go\u2019n.\r\nAnd all this house of which I read*                            *tell you\r\nWas made of twigges sallow,* red,                                *willow\r\nAnd green eke, and some were white,\r\nSuch as men *to the cages twight,*                  *pull to make cages*\r\nOr maken of  these panniers,\r\nOr elles hutches or dossers;*                              *back-baskets\r\nThat, for the swough* and for the twigs,                  *rushing noise\r\nThis house was all so full of gigs,*                     *sounds of wind\r\nAnd all so full eke of chirkings,*                            *creakings\r\nAnd of many other workings;\r\nAnd eke this house had of entries\r\nAs many as leaves be on trees,\r\nIn summer when that they be green,\r\nAnd on the roof men may yet see\u2019n\r\nA thousand holes, and well mo\u2019,\r\nTo let the soundes oute go.\r\nAnd by day *in ev\u2019ry tide*                                 *continually*\r\nBe all the doores open wide,\r\nAnd by night each one unshet;*                             *unshut, open\r\nNor porter there is none to let*                                 *hinder\r\nNo manner tidings in to pace;\r\nNor ever rest is in that place,\r\nThat it n\u2019is* fill\u2019d full of tidings,                            *is not\r\nEither loud, or of whisperings;\r\nAnd ever all the house\u2019s angles\r\nAre full of *rownings and of jangles,*     *whisperings and chatterings*\r\nOf wars, of peace, of marriages,\r\nOf rests, of labour, of voyages,\r\nOf abode, of death, of life,\r\nOf love, of hate, accord, of strife,\r\nOf loss, of lore, and of winnings,\r\nOf health, of sickness, of buildings,\r\nOf faire weather and tempests,\r\nOf qualm* of folkes and of beasts;                             *sickness\r\nOf divers transmutations\r\nOf estates and of regions;\r\nOf trust, of dread,* of jealousy,                                 *doubt\r\nOf wit, of cunning, of folly,\r\nOf plenty, and of great famine,\r\nOf *cheap, of dearth,* and of ruin;     *cheapness & dearness (of food)*\r\nOf good or of mis-government,\r\nOf fire, and diverse accident.\r\nAnd lo! this house of which I write,\r\n*Sicker be ye,* it was not lite;*                    *be assured* *small\r\nFor it was sixty mile of length,\r\nAll* was the timber of no strength;                            *although\r\nYet it is founded to endure,\r\n*While that it list to Adventure,*               *while fortune pleases*\r\nThat is the mother of tidings,\r\nAs is the sea of wells and springs;\r\nAnd it was shapen like a cage.\r\n\u201cCertes,\u201d quoth I, \u201cin all mine age,*                              *life\r\nNe\u2019er saw I such a house as this.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd as I wonder\u2019d me, y-wis,\r\nUpon this house, then ware was I\r\nHow that mine eagle, faste by,\r\nWas perched high upon a stone;\r\nAnd I gan straighte to him go\u2019n,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cI praye thee\r\nThat thou a while abide* me,                                   *wait for\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, and let me see\r\nWhat wonders in this place be;\r\nFor yet parauntre* I may lear**                    *peradventure **learn\r\nSome good thereon, or somewhat hear,\r\nThat *lefe me were,* ere that I went.\u201d             *were pleasing to me*\r\n\u201cPeter! that is mine intent,\u201d\r\nQuoth he to me; \u201ctherefore I dwell;*                              *tarry\r\nBut, certain, one thing I thee tell,\r\nThat, but* I bringe thee therein,                                *unless\r\nThou shalt never *can begin*                                   *be able*\r\nTo come into it, out of doubt,\r\nSo fast it whirleth, lo! about.\r\nBut since that Jovis, of his grace,\r\nAs I have said, will thee solace\r\nFinally with these ilke* things,                                   *same\r\nThese uncouth sightes and tidings,\r\nTo pass away thy heaviness,\r\nSuch ruth* hath he of thy distress                           *compassion\r\nThat thou suff\u2019rest debonairly,*                                 *gently\r\nAnd know\u2019st thyselven utterly\r\nDesperate of alle bliss,\r\nSince that Fortune hath made amiss\r\nThe fruit of all thy hearte\u2019s rest\r\nLanguish, and eke *in point to brest;*        *on the point of breaking*\r\nBut he, through his mighty merite,\r\nWill do thee ease, all be it lite,*                              *little\r\nAnd gave express commandement,\r\nTo which I am obedient,\r\nTo further thee with all my might,\r\nAnd wiss* and teache thee aright,                                *direct\r\nWhere thou may\u2019st moste tidings hear,\r\nShalt thou anon many one lear.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with this word he right anon\r\nHent* me up betwixt his tone,**                           *caught **toes\r\nAnd at a window in me brought,\r\nThat in this house was, as me thought;\r\nAnd therewithal me thought it stent,*                           *stopped\r\nAnd nothing it aboute went;\r\nAnd set me in the floore down.\r\nBut such a congregatioun\r\nOf folk, as I saw roam about,\r\nSome within and some without,\r\nWas never seen, nor shall be eft,*                     *again, hereafter\r\nThat, certes, in the world n\u2019 is* left                           *is not\r\nSo many formed by Nature,\r\nNor dead so many a creature,\r\nThat well unnethes* in that place                              *scarcely\r\nHad I a foote breadth of space;\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry wight that I saw there\r\nRown\u2019d* evereach in other\u2019s ear                               *whispered\r\nA newe tiding privily,\r\nOr elles told all openly\r\nRight thus, and saide, \u201cKnow\u2019st not thou\r\nWhat is betid,* lo! righte now?\u201d                               *happened\r\n\u201cNo,\u201d quoth he; \u201ctelle me what.\u201d\r\nAnd then he told him this and that,\r\nAnd swore thereto, that it was sooth;\r\n\u201cThus hath he said,\u201d and \u201cThus he do\u2019th,\u201d\r\nAnd \u201cThus shall \u2019t be,\u201d and \u201cThus heard I say\r\n\u201cThat shall be found, that dare I lay;\u201d*                          *wager\r\nThat all the folk that is alive\r\nHave not the cunning to descrive*                              *describe\r\nThe thinges that I hearde there,\r\nWhat aloud, and what in th\u2019ear.\r\nBut all the wonder most was this;\r\nWhen one had heard a thing, y-wis,\r\nHe came straight to another wight,\r\nAnd gan him tellen anon right\r\nThe same tale that to him was told,\r\nOr it a furlong way was old, <84>\r\nAnd gan somewhat for to eche*                                  *eke, add\r\nTo this tiding in his speech,\r\nMore than it ever spoken was.\r\nAnd not so soon departed n\u2019as*                                      *was\r\nHe from him, than that he met\r\nWith the third; and *ere he let\r\nAny stound,* he told him als\u2019;                *without delaying a momen*\r\nWere the tidings true or false,\r\nYet would he tell it natheless,\r\nAnd evermore with more increase\r\nThan it was erst.* Thus north and south                        *at first\r\nWent ev\u2019ry tiding from mouth to mouth,\r\nAnd that increasing evermo\u2019,\r\nAs fire is wont to *quick and go*             *become alive, and spread*\r\nFrom a spark y-sprung amiss,\r\nTill all a city burnt up is.\r\nAnd when that it was full up-sprung,\r\nAnd waxen* more on ev\u2019ry tongue                               *increased\r\nThan e\u2019er it was, it went anon\r\nUp to a window out to go\u2019n;\r\nOr, but it mighte thereout pass,\r\nIt gan creep out at some crevass,*                       *crevice, chink\r\nAnd fly forth faste for the nonce.\r\nAnd sometimes saw I there at once\r\n*A leasing, and a sad sooth saw,*            *a falsehood and an earnest\r\nThat gan *of adventure* draw                     true saying* *by chance\r\nOut at a window for to pace;\r\nAnd when they metten in that place,\r\nThey were checked both the two,\r\nAnd neither of them might out go;\r\nFor other so they gan *to crowd,*            *push, squeeze, each other*\r\nTill each of them gan cryen loud,\r\n\u201cLet me go first!\u201d \u2014 \u201cNay, but let me!\r\nAnd here I will ensure thee,\r\nWith vowes, if thou wilt do so,\r\nThat I shall never from thee go,\r\nBut be thine owen sworen brother!\r\nWe will us medle* each with other,                               *mingle\r\nThat no man, be he ne\u2019er so wroth,\r\nShall have one of us two, but both\r\nAt ones, as *beside his leave,*                     *despite his desire*\r\nCome we at morning or at eve,\r\nBe we cried or *still y-rowned.\u201d*                    *quietly whispered*\r\nThus saw I false and sooth, compouned,*                      *compounded\r\nTogether fly for one tiding.\r\nThen out at holes gan to wring*                       *squeeze, struggle\r\nEvery tiding straight to Fame;\r\nAnd she gan give to each his name\r\nAfter her disposition,\r\nAnd gave them eke duration,\r\nSome to wax and wane soon,\r\nAs doth the faire white moon;\r\nAnd let them go. There might I see\r\nWinged wonders full fast flee,\r\nTwenty thousand in a rout,*                                     *company\r\nAs Aeolus them blew about.\r\nAnd, Lord! this House in alle times\r\nWas full of shipmen and pilgrimes, <85>\r\nWith *scrippes bretfull of leasings,*    *wallets brimful of falsehoods*\r\nEntremedled with tidings*                                  *true stories\r\nAnd eke alone by themselve.\r\nAnd many thousand times twelve\r\nSaw I eke of these pardoners,<86>\r\nCouriers, and eke messengers,\r\nWith boistes* crammed full of lies                                *boxes\r\nAs ever vessel was with lyes.*                             *lees of wine\r\nAnd as I altherfaste* went                               *with all speed\r\nAbout, and did all mine intent\r\nMe *for to play and for to lear,*         *to amuse and instruct myself*\r\nAnd eke a tiding for to hear\r\nThat I had heard of some country,\r\nThat shall not now be told for me; \u2014\r\nFor it no need is, readily;\r\nFolk can sing it better than I.\r\nFor all must out, or late or rath,*                                *soon\r\nAll the sheaves in the lath;*                                 *barn <87>\r\nI heard a greate noise withal\r\nIn a corner of the hall,\r\nWhere men of love tidings told;\r\nAnd I gan thitherward behold,\r\nFor I saw running ev\u2019ry wight\r\nAs fast as that they hadde might,\r\nAnd ev\u2019reach cried, \u201cWhat thing is that?\u201d\r\nAnd some said, \u201cI know never what.\u201d\r\nAnd when they were all on a heap,\r\nThose behinde gan up leap,\r\nAnd clomb* upon each other fast, <88>                           *climbed\r\nAnd up the noise on high they cast,\r\nAnd trodden fast on others\u2019 heels,\r\nAnd stamp\u2019d, as men do after eels.\r\n\r\nBut at the last I saw a man,\r\nWhich that I not describe can;\r\nBut that he seemed for to be\r\nA man of great authority.\r\nAnd therewith I anon abraid*                                      *awoke\r\nOut of my sleepe, half afraid;\r\nRememb\u2019ring well what I had seen,\r\nAnd how high and far I had been\r\nIn my ghost; and had great wonder\r\nOf what the mighty god of thunder\r\nHad let me know; and gan to write\r\nLike as ye have me heard endite.\r\nWherefore to study and read alway\r\nI purpose to do day by day.\r\nAnd thus, in dreaming and in game,\r\nEndeth this little book of Fame.\r\n\r\nHere endeth the Book of Fame\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The House of Fame\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Rood: the cross on which Christ was crucified; Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cRode.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. Well worth of this thing greate clerks: Great scholars set\r\nmuch worth upon this thing \u2014  that is, devote much labour,\r\nattach much importance, to the subject of dreams.\r\n\r\n3. The poet briefly refers to the description of the House of\r\nSomnus, in Ovid\u2019s \u201cMetamorphoses,\u201d 1. xi. 592, et seqq.; where\r\nthe cave of Somnus is said to be \u201cprope Cimmerios,\u201d (\u201cnear the\r\nCimmerians\u201d) and \u201cSaxo tamen exit ab imo Rivus aquae\r\nLethes.\u201d (\u201cA stream of Lethe\u2019s water issues from the base of the\r\nrock\u201d)\r\n\r\n4. See the account of the vision of Croesus in The Monk\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n5. The meaning of the allusion is not clear; but the story of the\r\npilgrims and the peas is perhaps suggested by the line following\r\n\u2014 \u201cto make lithe [soft] what erst was hard.\u201d St Leonard was the\r\npatron of captives.\r\n\r\n5. Corsaint:  The \u201ccorpus sanctum\u201d \u2014 the holy body, or relics,\r\npreserved in the shrine.\r\n\r\n7. So, in the Temple of Venus described in The Knight\u2019s Tale,\r\nthe Goddess is represented as \u201cnaked floating in the large sea\u201d.\r\n\r\n8. Vulcano: Vulcan, the husband of Venus.\r\n\r\n9. Ered: ploughed; Latin, \u201carare,\u201d Anglo-Saxon, \u201cerean,\u201d\r\nplough.\r\n\r\n10. Sours: Soaring ascent; a hawk was said to be \u201con the soar\u201d\r\nwhen he mounted, \u201con the sours\u201d or \u201csouse\u201d when he\r\ndescended on the prey, and took it in flight.\r\n\r\n11. This is only one among many instances in which Chaucer\r\ndisclaims the pursuits of love; and the description of his manner\r\nof life which follows is sufficient to show that the disclaimer\r\nwas no mere mock-humble affectation of a gallant.\r\n\r\n12. This reference, approximately fixing the date at which the\r\npoem was composed, points clearly to Chaucer\u2019s daily work as\r\nComptroller of the Customs \u2014 a post which he held from 1374\r\nto 1386.\r\n\r\n13. This is a frank enough admission that the poet was fond of\r\ngood cheer; and the effect of his \u201clittle abstinence\u201d on his\r\ncorporeal appearance is humorously described in the Prologue\r\nto the Tale of Sir Thopas, where the Host compliments Chaucer\r\non being as well shapen in the waist as himself.\r\n\r\n14. \u201cTo make the beard\u201d means to befool or deceive. See note\r\n15 to the Reeve\u2019s Tale. Precisely the same idea is conveyed in\r\nthe modern slang word \u201cshave\u201d \u2014 meaning a trick or fraud.\r\n\r\n15. Love-days: see note 21 to the Prologue to the Canterbury\r\nTales.\r\n\r\n16. If this reference is to any book of Chaucer\u2019s in which the\r\nHouse of Fame was mentioned, the book has not come down to\r\nus. It has been reasonably supposed, however, that Chaucer\r\nmeans by \u201chis own book\u201d Ovid\u2019s \u201cMetamorphoses,\u201d of which he\r\nwas evidently very fond; and in the twelfth book of that poem\r\nthe Temple of Fame is described.\r\n\r\n17. Saint Julian was the patron of hospitality; so the Franklin, in\r\nthe Prologue to The Canterbury Tales is said to be \u201cSaint Julian\r\nin his country,\u201d for his open house and liberal cheer. The eagle,\r\nat sight of the House of Fame, cries out \u201cbon hostel!\u201d \u2014 \u201ca fair\r\nlodging, a glorious house, by St Julian!\u201d\r\n\r\n18. The laurel-tree is sacred to Apollo.  See note 11 to The\r\nAssembly of Fowls.\r\n\r\n19. French, \u201croche,\u201d a rock.\r\n\r\n20. St. Thomas of Kent:  Thomas a Beckett, whose shrine was\r\nat Canterbury.\r\n\r\n21. The half or side of the rock which was towards the poet,\r\nwas inscribed with, etc.\r\n\r\n22. Cop: summit; German, \u201ckopf\u201d; the head.\r\n\r\n23. Gestiours:  tellers of stories; reciters of brave feats or\r\n\u201cgests.\u201d\r\n\r\n24. Arion: the celebrated Greek bard and citharist, who, in the\r\nseventh century before Christ, lived at the court of Periander,\r\ntyrant of Corinth. The story of his preservation by the dolphin,\r\nwhen the covetous sailors forced him to leap into the sea, is\r\nwell known.\r\n\r\n25. Chiron the Centaur was renowned for skill in music and the\r\narts, which he owed to the teaching of Apollo and Artemis. He\r\nbecame in turn the instructor of Peleus, Achilles, and other\r\ndescendants of Aeacus; hence he is called \u201cAeacides\u201d \u2014 because\r\ntutor to the Aeacides, and thus, so to speak, of that \u201cfamily.\u201d\r\n\r\n26. Glasgerion is the subject of a ballad given in \u201cPercy\u2019s\r\nReliques,\u201d where we are told that\r\n\u201cGlasgerion was a king\u2019s own son,\r\n And a harper he was good;\r\n He harped in the king\u2019s chamber,\r\n Where cup and candle stood.\u201d\r\n\r\n27. Cornemuse: bagpipe; French, \u201ccornemuse.\u201d Shawmies:\r\nshalms or psalteries; an instrument resembling a harp.\r\n\r\n28. Dulcet: a kind of pipe, probably corresponding with the\r\n\u201cdulcimer;\u201d the idea of sweet \u2014 French, \u201cdoux;\u201d Latin, \u201cdulcis\u201d\r\n\u2014 is at the root of both words.\r\n\r\n29. In the early printed editions of Chaucer, the two names are\r\n\u201cCitherus\u201d and \u201cProserus;\u201d in the manuscript which Mr Bell\r\nfollowed (No. 16 in the Fairfax collection) they are \u201cAtileris\u201d\r\nand \u201cPseustis.\u201d But neither alternative gives more than the\r\nslightest clue to identification. \u201cCitherus\u201d has been retained in\r\nthe text; it may have been employed as an appellative of Apollo,\r\nderived from \u201ccithara,\u201d the instrument on which he played; and\r\nit is not easy to suggest a better substitute for it than \u201cClonas\u201d -\r\n- an early Greek poet and musician who flourished six hundred\r\nyears before Christ. For \u201cProserus,\u201d however, has been\r\nsubstituted \u201cPronomus,\u201d the name of a celebrated Grecian\r\nplayer on the pipe, who taught Alcibiades the flute, and who\r\ntherefore, although Theban by birth, might naturally be said by\r\nthe poet to be \u201cof Athens.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. Marsyas: The Phrygian, who, having found the flute of\r\nAthena, which played of itself most exquisite music, challenged\r\nApollo to a contest, the victor in which was to do with the\r\nvanquished as he pleased. Marsyas was beaten, and Apollo\r\nflayed him alive.\r\n\r\n31. The German (Deutsche) language, in Chaucer\u2019s time, had\r\nnot undergone that marked literary division into German and\r\nDutch which was largely accomplished through the influence of\r\nthe works of Luther and the other Reformers. Even now, the\r\nflute is the favourite musical instrument of the Fatherland; and\r\nthe devotion of the Germans to poetry and music has been\r\ncelebrated since the days of Tacitus.\r\n\r\n32. Reyes: a kind of dance, or song to be accompanied with\r\ndancing.\r\n\r\n33. Beam: horn, trumpet; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cbema.\u201d\r\n\r\n34. Messenus: Misenus, son of Aeolus, the companion and\r\ntrumpeter of Aeneas, was drowned near the Campanian\r\nheadland called Misenum after his name. (Aeneid, vi. 162 et\r\nseqq.)\r\n\r\n35. Joab\u2019s fame as a trumpeter is founded on two verses in 2\r\nSamuel (ii. 28, xx. 22), where we are told that he \u201cblew a\r\ntrumpet,\u201d which all the people of Israel obeyed, in the one case\r\ndesisting from a pursuit, in the other raising a siege.\r\n\r\n36. Theodamas or Thiodamas, king of the Dryopes, plays a\r\nprominent part in the tenth book of Statius\u2019 \u201cThebaid.\u201d Both he\r\nand Joab are also mentioned as great trumpeters in The\r\nMerchant\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n37. Jongelours: jugglers; French, \u201cjongleur.\u201d\r\n\r\n38. Tregetours: tricksters, jugglers. For explanation of this\r\nword, see note 14 to the Franklin\u2019s tale.\r\n\r\n39. Pythonesses:  women who, like the Pythia in Apollo\u2019s\r\ntemple at Delphi, were possessed with a spirit of divination or\r\nprophecy. The barbarous Latin form of the word was\r\n\u201cPythonissa\u201d or \u201cPhitonissa.\u201d See note 9 to the Friar\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n40. Subfumigations:  a ceremony employed to drive away evil\r\nspirits by burning incense; the practice of smoking cattle, corn,\r\n&c., has not died out in some country districts.\r\n\r\n41. In certain ascendents: under certain planetary influences.\r\nThe next lines recall the alleged malpractices of witches, who\r\ntortured little images of wax, in the design of causing the same\r\ntorments to the person represented \u2014 or, vice versa, treated\r\nthese images for the cure of hurts or sickness.\r\n\r\n42. Medea: celebrated for her magical power, through which\r\nshe restored to youth Aeson, the father of Jason; and caused the\r\ndeath of Jason\u2019s wife, Creusa, by sending her a poisoned\r\ngarment which consumed her to ashes.\r\n\r\n43. Circes: the sorceress Circe, who changed the companions of\r\nUlysses into swine.\r\n\r\n44. Calypsa: Calypso, on whose island of Ogygia Ulysses was\r\nwrecked. The goddess promised the hero immortality if he\r\nremained with her; but he refused, and, after a detention of\r\nseven years, she had to let him go.\r\n\r\n45. Hermes Ballenus: this is supposed to mean Hermes\r\nTrismegistus (of whom see note 19 to the Canon\u2019s Yeoman\u2019s\r\nTale); but the explanation of the word \u201cBallenus\u201d is not quite\r\nobvious. The god Hermes of the Greeks (Mercurius of the\r\nRomans) had the surname \u201cCyllenius,\u201d from the mountain\r\nwhere he was born \u2014 Mount Cyllene, in Arcadia; and the\r\nalteration into \u201cBallenus\u201d would be quite within the range of a\r\ncopyist\u2019s capabilities, while we find in the mythological\r\ncharacter of Hermes enough to warrant his being classed with\r\njugglers and magicians.\r\n\r\n46. Limote and Colle Tregetour seem to have been famous\r\nsorcerers or jugglers, but nothing is now known of either.\r\n\r\n47. Simon Magus: of whom we read in Acts viii. 9, et seqq.\r\n\r\n48. \u201cAnd made well more than it was\r\n     To seemen ev\u2019rything, y-wis,\r\n     As kindly thing of Fame it is;\u201d\r\ni.e. It is in the nature of fame to exaggerate everything.\r\n\r\n49. Corbets: the corbels, or capitals of pillars in a Gothic\r\nbuilding; they were often carved with fantastic figures and\r\ndevices.\r\n\r\n50. A largess!: the cry with which heralds and pursuivants at a\r\ntournament acknowledged the gifts or largesses of the knights\r\nwhose achievements they celebrated.\r\n\r\n51. Nobles: gold coins of exceptional fineness. Sterlings:\r\nsterling coins; not \u201cluxemburgs\u201d, but stamped and authorised\r\nmoney. See note 9 to the Miller\u2019s Tale and note 6 to the\r\nPrologue to the Monk\u2019s tale.\r\n\r\n52. Coat-armure: the sleeveless coat or \u201ctabard,\u201d on which the\r\narms of the wearer or his lord were emblazoned.\r\n\r\n53. \u201cBut for to prove in alle wise\r\nAs fine as ducat of Venise\u201d\r\ni.e. In whatever way it might be proved or tested, it would be\r\nfound as fine as a Venetian ducat.\r\n\r\n54. Lapidaire: a treatise on precious stones.\r\n\r\n55. See imperial: a seat placed on the dais, or elevated portion\r\nof the hall at the upper end, where the lord and the honoured\r\nguests sat.\r\n\r\n56. The starres seven: Septentrion; the Great Bear or Northern\r\nWain, which in this country appears to be at the top of heaven.\r\n\r\n57. The Apocalypse: The last book of the New Testament, also\r\ncalled Revelations. The four beasts are in chapter iv. 6.\r\n\r\n58. \u201cOundy\u201d is the French \u201condoye,\u201d from \u201condoyer,\u201d to\r\nundulate or wave.\r\n\r\n59. Partridges\u2019 wings: denoting swiftness.\r\n\r\n60. Hercules lost his life with the poisoned shirt of Nessus, sent\r\nto him by the jealous Dejanira.\r\n\r\n61. Of the secte Saturnine: Of the Saturnine school; so called\r\nbecause his history of the Jewish wars narrated many horrors,\r\ncruelties, and sufferings, over which Saturn was the presiding\r\ndeity. See note 71 to the Knight\u2019s tale.\r\n\r\n62. Compare the account of the \u201cbodies seven\u201d given by the\r\nCanon\u2019s Yeoman:\r\n\u201cSol gold is, and Luna silver we threpe;\r\n Mars iron, Mercury quicksilver we clepe;\r\n Saturnus lead, and Jupiter is tin,\r\n And Venus copper, by my father\u2019s kin.\u201d\r\n\r\n63. Statius is called a \u201cTholosan,\u201d because by some, among\r\nthem Dante, he was believed to have been a native of Tolosa,\r\nnow Toulouse. He wrote the \u201cThebais,\u201d in twelve books, and\r\nthe \u201cAchilleis,\u201d of which only two were finished.\r\n\r\n64. Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis were the names\r\nattached to histories of the Trojan War pretended to have been\r\nwritten immediately after the fall of Troy.\r\n\r\n65. Lollius:  The unrecognisable author whom Chaucer\r\nprofesses to follow in his \u201cTroilus and Cressida,\u201d and who has\r\nbeen thought to mean Boccaccio.\r\n\r\n66. Guido de Colonna, or de Colempnis, was a native of\r\nMessina, who lived about the end of the thirteenth century, and\r\nwrote in Latin prose a history including the war of Troy.\r\n\r\n67. English Gaufrid: Geoffrey of Monmouth, who drew from\r\nTroy the original of the British race. See Spenser\u2019s \u201cFaerie\r\nQueen,\u201d book ii. canto x.\r\n\r\n68. Lucan, in his \u201cPharsalia,\u201d a poem in ten books, recounted\r\nthe incidents of the war between Caesar and Pompey.\r\n\r\n69. Claudian of Alexandria, \u201cthe most modern of the ancient\r\npoets,\u201d lived some three centuries after Christ, and among other\r\nworks wrote three books on \u201cThe Rape of Proserpine.\u201d\r\n\r\n70. Triton was a son of Poseidon or Neptune, and represented\r\nusually as blowing a trumpet made of a conch or shell; he is\r\ntherefore introduced by Chaucer as the squire of Aeolus.\r\n\r\n71. Sky: cloud; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cscua;\u201d Greek, \u201cskia.\u201d\r\n\r\n72. Los: reputation. See note 5 to Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Melib\u0153us.\r\n\r\n73. Swart: black; German, \u201cschwarz.\u201d\r\n\r\n74. Tewell: the pipe, chimney, of the furnace; French \u201ctuyau.\u201d\r\nIn the Prologue to The Canterbury Tales, the Monk\u2019s head is\r\ndescribed as steaming like a lead furnace.\r\n\r\n75. Tetches: blemishes, spots; French, \u201ctache.\u201d\r\n\r\n76. For the story of Belle Isaude see note 21 to the Assembly of\r\nFowls.\r\n\r\n77. Quern:  mill. See note 6 to the Monk\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n78. To put an ape into one\u2019s hood, upon his head, is to befool\r\nhim; see the prologue  to the Prioresses\u2019s Tale, l.6.\r\n\r\n79. Obviously Chaucer should have said the temple of Diana, or\r\nArtemis (to whom, as Goddess of the Moon, the Egyptian Isis\r\ncorresponded), at Ephesus. The building, famous for its\r\nsplendour, was set on fire, in B.C. 356, by Erostatus, merely\r\nthat he might perpetuate his name.\r\n\r\n80. \u201cNow do our los be blowen swithe,\r\nAs wisly be thou ever blithe.\u201d i.e.\r\nCause our renown to be blown abroad quickly, as surely as you\r\nwish to be glad.\r\n\r\n81. The Labyrinth at Cnossus in Crete, constructed by Dedalus\r\nfor the safe keeping of the Minotaur, the fruit of Pasiphae\u2019s\r\nunnatural love.\r\n\r\n82. The river Oise, an affluent of the Seine, in France.\r\n\r\n83. The engine:  The machines for casting stones, which in\r\nChaucer time served the purpose of great artillery; they were\r\ncalled \u201cmangonells,\u201d \u201cspringolds,\u201d &c.; and resembled in\r\nconstruction the \u201cballistae\u201d and \u201ccatapultae\u201d of the ancients.\r\n\r\n84. Or it a furlong way was old:  before it was older than the\r\nspace of time during which one might walk a furlong; a measure\r\nof time often employed by Chaucer.\r\n\r\n85. Shipmen and pilgrimes: sailors and pilgrims, who seem to\r\nhave in Chaucer\u2019s time amply warranted the proverbial\r\nimputation against \u201ctravellers\u2019 tales.\u201d\r\n\r\n86. Pardoners: of whom Chaucer, in the Prologue to The\r\nCanterbury Tales, has given us no flattering typical portrait\r\n\r\n87. Lath: barn; still used in Lincolnshire and some parts of the\r\nnorth. The meaning is, that the poet need not tell what tidings\r\nhe wanted to hear, since everything of the kind must some day\r\ncome out \u2014 as sooner or later every sheaf in the barn must be\r\nbrought forth (to be threshed).\r\n\r\n88. A somewhat similar heaping-up of people is de scribed in\r\nSpenser\u2019s account of the procession of Lucifera (\u201cThe Faerie\r\nQueen,\u201d book i. canto iv.), where, as the royal dame passes to\r\nher coach,\r\n\u201cThe heaps of people, thronging in the hall,\r\n Do ride each other, upon her to gaze.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTROILUS AND CRESSIDA\r\n\r\n\r\n[In several respects, the story of \u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d may be\r\nregarded as Chaucer\u2019s noblest poem. Larger in scale than any\r\nother of his individual works \u2014 numbering nearly half as many\r\nlines as The Canterbury Tales contain, without reckoning the\r\ntwo in prose \u2014 the conception of the poem is yet so closely and\r\nharmoniously worked out, that all the parts are perfectly\r\nbalanced, and from first to last scarcely a single line is\r\nsuperfluous or misplaced. The finish and beauty of the poem as\r\na work of art, are not more conspicuous than the knowledge of\r\nhuman nature displayed in the portraits of the principal\r\ncharacters. The result is, that the poem is more modern, in form\r\nand in spirit, than almost any other work of its author; the\r\nchaste style and sedulous polish of the stanzas admit of easy\r\nchange into the forms of speech now current in England; while\r\nthe analytical and subjective character of the work gives it, for\r\nthe nineteenth century reader, an interest of the same kind as\r\nthat inspired, say, by George Eliot\u2019s wonderful study of\r\ncharacter in \u201cRomola.\u201d Then, above all, \u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d\r\nis distinguished by a purity and elevation of moral tone, that\r\nmay surprise those who judge of Chaucer only by the coarse\r\ntraits of his time preserved in The Canterbury Tales, or who\r\nmay expect to find here the Troilus, the Cressida, and the\r\nPandarus of Shakspeare\u2019s play. It is to no trivial gallant, no\r\nwoman of coarse mind and easy virtue, no malignantly\r\nsubservient and utterly debased procurer, that Chaucer\r\nintroduces us. His Troilus is a noble, sensitive, generous, pure-\r\nsouled, manly, magnanimous hero, who is only confirmed and\r\nstimulated in all virtue by his love, who lives for his lady, and\r\ndies for her falsehood, in a lofty and chivalrous fashion. His\r\nCressida is a stately, self-contained, virtuous, tender-hearted\r\nwoman, who loves with all the pure strength and trustful\r\nabandonment of a generous and exalted nature, and who is\r\ndriven to infidelity perhaps even less by pressure of\r\ncircumstances, than by the sheer force of her love, which will go\r\non loving \u2014 loving what it can have, when that which it would\r\nrather have is for the time unattainable. His Pandarus is a\r\ngentleman, though a gentleman with a flaw in him; a man who,\r\nin his courtier-like good-nature, places the claims of\r\ncomradeship above those of honour, and plots away the virtue\r\nof his niece, that he may appease the love-sorrow of his friend;\r\nall the time conscious that he is not acting as a gentleman\r\nshould, and desirous that others should give him that\r\njustification which he can get but feebly and diffidently in\r\nhimself. In fact, the \u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d of Chaucer is the\r\n\u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d of Shakespeare transfigured; the\r\natmosphere, the colour, the spirit, are wholly different; the older\r\npoet presents us in the chief characters to noble natures, the\r\nyounger to ignoble natures in all the characters; and the poem\r\nwith which we have now to do stands at this day among the\r\nnoblest expositions of love\u2019s workings in the human heart and\r\nlife. It is divided into five books, containing altogether 8246\r\nlines. The First Book (1092 lines) tells how Calchas, priest of\r\nApollo, quitting beleaguered Troy, left there his only daughter\r\nCressida; how Troilus, the youngest brother of Hector and son\r\nof King Priam, fell in love with her at first sight, at a festival in\r\nthe temple of Pallas, and sorrowed bitterly for her love; and\r\nhow his friend, Cressida\u2019s uncle, Pandarus, comforted him by\r\nthe promise of aid in his suit. The Second Book (1757 lines)\r\nrelates the subtle manoeuvres of Pandarus to induce Cressida to\r\nreturn the love of Troilus; which he accomplishes mainly by\r\ntouching at once the lady\u2019s admiration for his heroism, and her\r\npity for his love-sorrow on her account. The Third Book (1827\r\nlines) opens with an account of the first interview between the\r\nlovers; ere it closes, the skilful stratagems of Pandarus have\r\nplaced the pair in each other\u2019s arms under his roof, and the\r\nlovers are happy in perfect enjoyment of each other\u2019s love and\r\ntrust. In the Fourth Book (1701 lines) the course of true love\r\nceases to run smooth; Cressida is compelled to quit the city, in\r\nransom for Antenor, captured in a skirmish; and she sadly\r\ndeparts to the camp of the Greeks, vowing that she will make\r\nher escape, and return to Troy and Troilus within ten days. The\r\nFifth Book (1869 lines) sets out by describing the court which\r\nDiomedes, appointed to escort her, pays to Cressida on the way\r\nto the camp; it traces her gradual progress from indifference to\r\nher new suitor, to incontinence with him, and it leaves the\r\ndeserted Troilus dead on the field of battle, where he has sought\r\nan eternal refuge from the new grief provoked by clear proof of\r\nhis mistress\u2019s infidelity. The polish, elegance, and power of the\r\nstyle, and the acuteness of insight into character, which mark\r\nthe poem, seem to claim for it a date considerably later than that\r\nadopted by those who assign its composition to Chaucer\u2019s\r\nyouth: and the literary allusions and proverbial expressions with\r\nwhich it abounds, give ample evidence that, if Chaucer really\r\nwrote it at an early age, his youth must have been precocious\r\nbeyond all actual record. Throughout the poem there are\r\nrepeated references to the old authors of Trojan histories who\r\nare named in \u201cThe House of Fame\u201d; but Chaucer especially\r\nmentions one Lollius as the author from whom he takes the\r\ngroundwork of the poem. Lydgate is responsible for the\r\nassertion that Lollius meant Boccaccio; and though there is no\r\nauthority for supposing that the English really meant to\r\ndesignate the Italian poet under that name, there is abundant\r\ninternal proof that the poem was really founded on the\r\n\u201cFilostrato\u201d of Boccaccio. But the tone of Chaucer\u2019s work is\r\nmuch higher than that of his Italian \u201cauctour;\u201d and while in\r\nsome passages the imitation is very close, in all that is\r\ncharacteristic in \u201cTroilus and Cressida,\u201d Chaucer has fairly\r\nthrust his models out of sight. In the present edition, it has been\r\npossible to give no more than about one-fourth of the poem \u2014\r\n274 out of the 1178 seven-line stanzas that compose it; but\r\npains have been taken to convey, in the connecting prose\r\npassages, a faithful idea of what is perforce omitted.]\r\n\r\nTHE FIRST BOOK.\r\n\r\nTHE double sorrow <1> of Troilus to tell,\r\nThat was the King Priamus\u2019 son of Troy,\r\nIn loving how his adventures* fell                             *fortunes\r\nFrom woe to weal, and after* out of joy,                     *afterwards\r\nMy purpose is, ere I you parte froy.*                              *from\r\nTisiphone,<2> thou help me to indite\r\nThese woeful words, that weep as I do write.\r\n\r\nTo thee I call, thou goddess of torment!\r\nThou cruel wight, that sorrowest ever in pain;\r\nHelp me, that am the sorry instrument\r\nThat helpeth lovers, as I can, to plain.*                      *complain\r\nFor well it sits,* the soothe for to sayn,                       *befits\r\nUnto a woeful wight a dreary fere,*                           *companion\r\nAnd to a sorry tale a sorry cheer.*                         *countenance\r\n\r\nFor I, that God of Love\u2019s servants serve,\r\nNor dare to love for mine unlikeliness,* <3>             *unsuitableness\r\nPraye for speed,* although I shoulde sterve,**            *success **die\r\nSo far I am from his help in darkness;\r\nBut natheless, might I do yet gladness\r\nTo any lover, or any love avail,*                               *advance\r\nHave thou the thank, and mine be the travail.\r\n\r\nBut ye lovers that bathen in gladness,\r\nIf any drop of pity in you be,\r\nRemember you for old past heaviness,\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, and on adversity\r\nThat others suffer; think how sometime ye\r\nFounde how Love durste you displease;\r\nOr elles ye have won it with great ease.\r\n\r\nAnd pray for them that been in the case\r\nOf Troilus, as ye may after hear,\r\nThat Love them bring in heaven to solace;*             *delight, comfort\r\nAnd for me pray also, that God so dear\r\nMay give me might to show, in some mannere,\r\nSuch pain or woe as Love\u2019s folk endure,\r\nIn Troilus\u2019 *unseely adventure*                        *unhappy fortune*\r\n\r\nAnd pray for them that eke be despair\u2019d\r\nIn love, that never will recover\u2019d be;\r\nAnd eke for them that falsely be appair\u2019d*                    *slandered\r\nThrough wicked tongues, be it he or she:\r\nOr thus bid* God, for his benignity,                               *pray\r\nTo grant them soon out of this world to pace,*                 *pass, go\r\nThat be despaired of their love\u2019s grace.\r\n\r\nAnd bid also for them that be at ease\r\nIn love, that God them grant perseverance,\r\nAnd send them might their loves so to please,\r\nThat it to them be *worship and pleasance;*        *honour and pleasure*\r\nFor so hope I my soul best to advance,\r\nTo pray for them that Love\u2019s servants be,\r\nAnd write their woe, and live in charity;\r\n\r\nAnd for to have of them compassion,\r\nAs though I were their owen brother dear.\r\nNow listen all with good entention,*                          *attention\r\nFor I will now go straight to my mattere,\r\nIn which ye shall the double sorrow hear\r\nOf Troilus, in loving of Cresside,\r\nAnd how that she forsook him ere she died.\r\n\r\nIn Troy, during the siege, dwelt \u201ca lord of great authority, a\r\ngreat divine,\u201d named Calchas; who, through the oracle of\r\nApollo, knew that Troy should be destroyed. He stole away\r\nsecretly to the Greek camp, where he was gladly received, and\r\nhonoured for his skill in divining, of which the besiegers hoped\r\nto make use. Within the city there was great anger at the\r\ntreason of Calchas; and the people declared that he and all his\r\nkin were worthy to be burnt. His daughter, whom he had left in\r\nthe city, a widow and alone, was in great fear for her life.\r\n\r\nCressida was this lady\u2019s name aright;\r\n*As to my doom,* in alle Troy city                      *in my judgment*\r\nSo fair was none, for over ev\u2019ry wight\r\nSo angelic was her native beauty,\r\nThat like a thing immortal seemed she,\r\nAs sooth a perfect heav\u2019nly creature,\r\nThat down seem\u2019d sent in scorning of Nature.\r\n\r\nIn her distress, \u201cwell nigh out of her wit for pure fear,\u201d she\r\nappealed for protection to Hector; who, \u201cpiteous of nature,\u201d\r\nand touched by her sorrow and her beauty, assured her of\r\nsafety, so long as she pleased to dwell in Troy. The siege went\r\non; but they of Troy did not neglect the honour and worship of\r\ntheir deities; most of all of \u201cthe relic hight Palladion, <4> that\r\nwas their trust aboven ev\u2019ry one.\u201d In April, \u201cwhen clothed is the\r\nmead with newe green, of jolly Ver [Spring] the prime,\u201d the\r\nTrojans went to hold the festival of Palladion \u2014  crowding to\r\nthe temple, \u201cin all their beste guise,\u201d lusty knights, fresh ladies,\r\nand maidens bright.\r\n\r\nAmong the which was this Cresseida,\r\nIn widow\u2019s habit black; but natheless,\r\nRight as our firste letter is now A,\r\nIn beauty first so stood she makeless;*                       *matchless\r\nHer goodly looking gladded all the press;*                        *crowd\r\nWas never seen thing to be praised derre,*          *dearer, more worthy\r\nNor under blacke cloud so bright a sterre,*                        *star\r\n\r\nAs she was, as they saiden, ev\u2019ry one\r\nThat her behelden in her blacke weed;*                          *garment\r\nAnd yet she stood, full low and still, alone,\r\nBehind all other folk, *in little brede,*              *inconspicuously*\r\nAnd nigh the door, ay *under shame\u2019s drede;*        *for dread of shame*\r\nSimple of bearing, debonair* of cheer,                         *gracious\r\nWith a full sure* looking and mannere.                          *assured\r\n\r\nDan Troilus, as he was wont to guide\r\nHis younge knightes, led them up and down\r\nIn that large temple upon ev\u2019ry side,\r\nBeholding ay the ladies of the town;\r\nNow here, now there, for no devotioun\r\nHad he to none, to *reave him* his rest,                *deprive him of*\r\nBut gan to *praise and lacke whom him lest;*       *praise and disparage\r\n                                                        whom he pleased*\r\nAnd in his walk full fast he gan to wait*                *watch, observe\r\nIf knight or squier of his company\r\nGan for to sigh, or let his eyen bait*                             *feed\r\nOn any woman that he could espy;\r\nThen he would smile, and hold it a folly,\r\nAnd say him thus: \u201cAh, Lord, she sleepeth soft\r\nFor love of thee, when as thou turnest oft.\r\n\r\n\u201cI have heard told, pardie, of your living,\r\nYe lovers, and your lewed* observance,                *ignorant, foolish\r\nAnd what a labour folk have in winning\r\nOf love, and in it keeping with doubtance;*                       *doubt\r\nAnd when your prey is lost, woe and penance;*                 *suffering\r\nOh, very fooles! may ye no thing see?\r\nCan none of you aware by other be?\u201d\r\n\r\nBut the God of Love vowed vengeance on Troilus for that\r\ndespite, and, showing that his bow was not broken, \u201chit him at\r\nthe full.\u201d\r\n\r\nWithin the temple went he forth playing,\r\nThis Troilus, with ev\u2019ry wight about,\r\nOn this lady and now on that looking,\r\nWhether she were of town, or *of without;*       *from beyond the walls*\r\nAnd *upon cas* befell, that through the rout*         *by chance* *crowd\r\nHis eye pierced, and so deep it went,\r\nTill on Cresside it smote, and there it stent;*                  *stayed\r\n\r\nAnd suddenly wax\u2019d wonder sore astoned,*                         *amazed\r\nAnd gan her bet* behold in busy wise:                            *better\r\n\u201cOh, very god!\u201d <5> thought he; \u201cwhere hast thou woned*           *dwelt\r\nThat art so fair and goodly to devise?*                        *describe\r\nTherewith his heart began to spread and rise;\r\nAnd soft he sighed, lest men might him hear,\r\nAnd caught again his former *playing cheer.*         *jesting demeanour*\r\n\r\n*She was not with the least of her stature,*              *she was tall*\r\nBut all her limbes so well answering\r\nWere to womanhood, that creature\r\nWas never lesse mannish in seeming.\r\nAnd eke *the pure wise of her moving*                   *by very the way\r\nShe showed well, that men might in her guess                  she moved*\r\nHonour, estate,* and womanly nobless.                           *dignity\r\n\r\nThen Troilus right wonder well withal\r\nBegan to like her moving and her cheer,*                    *countenance\r\nWhich somedeal dainous* was, for she let fall                *disdainful\r\nHer look a little aside, in such mannere\r\nAscaunce* \u201cWhat! may I not stande here?\u201d               *as if to say <6>\r\nAnd after that *her looking gan she light,*       *her expression became\r\nThat never thought him see so good a sight.               more pleasant*\r\n\r\nAnd of her look in him there gan to quicken\r\nSo great desire, and strong affection,\r\nThat in his hearte\u2019s bottom gan to sticken\r\nOf her the fix\u2019d and deep impression;\r\nAnd though he erst* had pored** up and down,        *previously **looked\r\nThen was he glad his hornes in to shrink;\r\nUnnethes* wist he how to look or wink.                         *scarcely\r\n\r\nLo! he that held himselfe so cunning,\r\nAnd scorned them that Love\u2019s paines drien,*                      *suffer\r\nWas full unware that love had his dwelling\r\nWithin the subtile streames* of her eyen;                 *rays, glances\r\nThat suddenly he thought he felte dien,\r\nRight with her look, the spirit in his heart;\r\nBlessed be Love, that thus can folk convert!\r\n\r\nShe thus, in black, looking to Troilus,\r\nOver all things he stoode to behold;\r\nBut his desire, nor wherefore he stood thus,\r\nHe neither *cheere made,* nor worde told;    *showed by his countenance*\r\nBut from afar, *his manner for to hold,*       *to observe due courtesy*\r\nOn other things sometimes his look he cast,\r\nAnd eft* <7> on her, while that the service last.**      *again **lasted\r\n\r\nAnd after this, not fully all awhaped,*                         *daunted\r\nOut of the temple all easily be went,\r\nRepenting him that ever he had japed*                            *jested\r\nOf Love\u2019s folk, lest fully the descent\r\nOf scorn fell on himself; but what he meant,\r\nLest it were wist on any manner side,\r\nHis woe he gan dissemble and eke hide.\r\n\r\nReturning to his palace, he begins hypocritically to smile and\r\njest at Love\u2019s servants and their pains; but by and by he has to\r\ndismiss his attendants, feigning \u201cother busy needs.\u201d Then, alone\r\nin his chamber, he begins to groan and sigh, and call up again\r\nCressida\u2019s form as he saw her in the temple \u2014 \u201cmaking a mirror\r\nof his mind, in which he saw all wholly her figure.\u201d He thinks no\r\ntravail or sorrow too high a price for the love of such a goodly\r\nwoman; and, \u201cfull unadvised of his woe coming,\u201d\r\n\r\nThus took he purpose Love\u2019s craft to sue,*                       *follow\r\nAnd thought that he would work all privily,\r\nFirst for to hide his desire all *in mew*           *in a cage, secretly\r\nFrom every wight y-born, all utterly,\r\n*But he might aught recover\u2019d be thereby;*      *unless he gained by it*\r\nRememb\u2019ring him, that love *too wide y-blow*        *too much spoken of*\r\nYields bitter fruit, although sweet seed be sow.\r\n\r\nAnd, over all this, muche more he thought\r\nWhat thing to speak, and what to holden in;\r\nAnd what to arten* her to love, he sought;                *constrain <8>\r\nAnd on a song anon right to begin,\r\nAnd gan loud on his sorrow for to win;*                        *overcome\r\nFor with good hope he gan thus to assent*                       *resolve\r\nCressida for to love, and not repent.\r\n\r\nThe Song of Troilus. <9>\r\n\r\n\u201cIf no love is, O God! why feel I so?\r\nAnd if love is, what thing and which is he?\r\nIf love be good, from whence cometh my woe?\r\nIf it be wick\u2019, a wonder thinketh me\r\nWhence ev\u2019ry torment and adversity\r\nThat comes of love *may to me savoury think:*    *seem acceptable to me*\r\nFor more I thirst the more that I drink.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd if I *at mine owen luste bren*                *burn by my own will*\r\nFrom whence cometh my wailing and my plaint?\r\nIf maugre me,<10> *whereto plain I* then?\t*to what avail do I complain?*\r\nI wot ner* why, unweary, that I faint.                          *neither\r\nO quicke death! O sweete harm so quaint!*                       *strange\r\nHow may I see in me such quantity,\r\nBut if that I consent that so it be?\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd if that I consent, I wrongfully\r\nComplain y-wis: thus pushed to and fro,\r\nAll starreless within a boat am I,\r\nMiddes the sea, betwixte windes two,\r\nThat in contrary standen evermo\u2019.\r\nAlas! what wonder is this malady! \u2014\r\nFor heat of cold, for cold of heat, I die!\u201d\r\n\r\nDevoting himself wholly to the thought of Cressida \u2014 though he\r\nyet knew not whether she was woman or goddess \u2014 Troilus, in\r\nspite of his royal blood, became the very slave of love. He set at\r\nnaught every other charge, but to gaze on her as often as he\r\ncould; thinking so to appease his hot fire, which thereby only\r\nburned the hotter. He wrought marvellous feats of arms against\r\nthe Greeks, that she might like him the better for his renown;\r\nthen love deprived him of sleep, and made his food his foe; till\r\nhe had to \u201cborrow a title of other sickness,\u201d that men might not\r\nknow he was consumed with love. Meantime, Cressida gave no\r\nsign that she heeded his devotion, or even knew of it; and he\r\nwas now consumed with a new fear \u2014 lest she loved some other\r\nman. Bewailing his sad lot \u2014 ensnared, exposed to the scorn of\r\nthose whose love he had ridiculed, wishing himself arrived at\r\nthe port of death, and praying ever that his lady might glad him\r\nwith some kind look \u2014 Troilus is surprised in his chamber by his\r\nfriend Pandarus, the uncle of Cressida. Pandarus, seeking to\r\ndivert his sorrow by making him angry, jeeringly asks whether\r\nremorse of conscience, or devotion, or fear of the Greeks, has\r\ncaused all this ado. Troilus pitifully beseeches his friend to leave\r\nhim to die alone, for die he must, from a cause which he must\r\nkeep hidden; but Pandarus argues against Troilus\u2019 cruelty in\r\nhiding from a friend such a sorrow, and Troilus at last confesses\r\nthat his malady is love. Pandarus suggests that the beloved\r\nobject may be such that his counsel might advance his friend\u2019s\r\ndesires; but Troilus scouts the suggestion, saying that Pandarus\r\ncould never govern himself in love.\r\n\r\n\u201cYea, Troilus, hearken to me,\u201d quoth Pandare,\r\n\u201cThough I be nice;* it happens often so,                        *foolish\r\nThat one that access* doth full evil fare,        *in an access of fever\r\nBy good counsel can keep his friend therefro\u2019.\r\nI have my selfe seen a blind man go\r\nWhere as he fell that looke could full wide;\r\nA fool may eke a wise man often guide.\r\n\r\n\u201cA whetstone is no carving instrument,\r\nBut yet it maketh sharpe carving tooles;\r\nAnd, if thou know\u2019st that I have aught miswent,*          *erred, failed\r\nEschew thou that, for such thing to thee school* is.  *schooling, lesson\r\nThus oughte wise men to beware by fooles;\r\nIf so thou do, thy wit is well bewared;\r\nBy its contrary is everything declared.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor how might ever sweetness have been know\r\nTo him that never tasted bitterness?\r\nAnd no man knows what gladness is, I trow,\r\nThat never was in sorrow or distress:\r\nEke white by black, by shame eke worthiness,\r\nEach set by other, *more for other seemeth,*        *its quality is made\r\nAs men may see; and so the wise man deemeth.\u201d            more obvious by the contrast*\r\nTroilus, however, still begs his friend to leave him to mourn in\r\npeace, for all his proverbs can avail nothing. But Pandarus\r\ninsists on plying the lover with wise saws, arguments,\r\nreproaches; hints that, if he should die of love, his lady may\r\nimpute his death to fear of the Greeks; and finally induces\r\nTroilus to admit that the well of all his woe, his sweetest foe, is\r\ncalled Cressida. Pandarus breaks into praises of the lady, and\r\ncongratulations of his friend for so well fixing his heart; he\r\nmakes Troilus utter a formal confession of his sin in jesting at\r\nlovers and bids him think well that she of whom rises all his\r\nwoe, hereafter may his comfort be also.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor thilke* ground, that bears the weedes wick\u2019              *that same\r\nBears eke the wholesome herbes, and full oft\r\nNext to the foule nettle, rough and thick,\r\nThe lily waxeth,* white, and smooth, and soft;                    *grows\r\nAnd next the valley is the hill aloft,\r\nAnd next the darke night is the glad morrow,\r\nAnd also joy is next the fine* of sorrow.\u201d                  *end, border\r\n\r\nPandarus holds out to Troilus good hope of achieving his\r\ndesire; and tells him that, since he has been converted from his\r\nwicked rebellion against Love, he shall be made the best post of\r\nall Love\u2019s law, and most grieve Love\u2019s enemies. Troilus gives\r\nutterance to a hint of fear; but he is silenced by Pandarus with\r\nanother proverb \u2014  \u201cThou hast full great care, lest that the carl\r\nshould fall out of the moon.\u201d Then the lovesick youth breaks\r\ninto a joyous boast that some of the Greeks shall smart; he\r\nmounts his horse, and plays the lion in the field; while Pandarus\r\nretires to consider how he may best recommend to his niece the\r\nsuit of Troilus.\r\n\r\nTHE SECOND BOOK.\r\n\r\nIN the Proem to the Second Book, the poet hails the clear\r\nweather that enables him to sail out of those black waves in\r\nwhich his boat so laboured that he could scarcely steer \u2014 that is,\r\n\u201cthe tempestuous matter of despair, that Troilus was in; but\r\nnow of hope the kalendes begin.\u201d He invokes the aid of Clio;\r\nexcuses himself to every lover for what may be found amiss in a\r\nbook which he only translates; and, obviating any lover\u2019s\r\nobjection to the way in which Troilus obtained his lady\u2019s grace -\r\n- through Pandarus\u2019 mediation \u2014 says it seems to him no\r\nwonderful thing:\r\n\r\n\u201cFor ev\u2019ry wighte that to Rome went\r\nHeld not one path, nor alway one mannere;\r\nEke in some lands were all the game y-shent\r\nIf that men far\u2019d in love as men do here,\r\nAs thus, in open dealing and in cheer,\r\nIn visiting, in form, or saying their saws;*                   *speeches\r\nFor thus men say: Each country hath its laws.\r\n\r\n\u201cEke scarcely be there in this place three\r\nThat have in love done or said *like in all;\u201d*   *alike in all respects*\r\n\r\nAnd so that which the poem relates may not please the reader \u2014\r\nbut it actually was done, or it shall yet be done. The Book sets\r\nout with the visit of Pandarus to Cressida:\u2014\r\n\r\nIn May, that mother is of monthes glade,*                          *glad\r\nWhen all the freshe flowers, green and red,\r\nBe quick* again, that winter deade made,                          *alive\r\nAnd full of balm is floating ev\u2019ry mead;\r\nWhen Phoebus doth his brighte beames spread\r\nRight in the white Bull, so it betid*                          *happened\r\nAs I shall sing, on Maye\u2019s day the thrid, <11>\r\n\r\nThat Pandarus, for all his wise speech,\r\nFelt eke his part of Love\u2019s shottes keen,\r\nThat, could he ne\u2019er so well of Love preach,\r\nIt made yet his hue all day full green;*                           *pale\r\nSo *shope it,* that him fell that day a teen*      *it happened* *access\r\nIn love, for which full woe to bed he went,\r\nAnd made ere it were day full many a went.*                *turning <12>\r\n\r\nThe swallow Progne, <13> with a sorrowful lay,\r\nWhen morrow came, gan make her waimenting,*                   *lamenting\r\nWhy she foshapen* was; and ever lay                         *transformed\r\nPandare a-bed, half in a slumbering,\r\nTill she so nigh him made her chittering,\r\nHow Tereus gan forth her sister take,\r\nThat with the noise of her he did awake,\r\n\r\nAnd gan to call, and dress* him to arise,                       *prepare\r\nRememb\u2019ring him his errand was to do\u2019n\r\nFrom Troilus, and eke his great emprise;\r\nAnd cast, and knew in *good plight* was the Moon     *favourable aspect*\r\nTo do voyage, and took his way full soon\r\nUnto his niece\u2019s palace there beside\r\nNow Janus, god of entry, thou him guide!\r\n\r\nPandarus finds his niece, with two other ladies, in a paved\r\nparlour, listening to a maiden who reads aloud the story of the\r\nSiege of Thebes. Greeting the company, he is welcomed by\r\nCressida, who tells him that for three nights she has dreamed of\r\nhim. After some lively talk about the book they had been\r\nreading, Pandarus asks his niece to do away her hood, to show\r\nher face bare, to lay aside the book, to rise up and dance, \u201cand\r\nlet us do to May some observance.\u201d Cressida cries out, \u201cGod\r\nforbid!\u201d and asks if he is mad \u2014 if that is a widow\u2019s life, whom it\r\nbetter becomes to sit in a cave and read of holy saints\u2019 lives.\r\nPandarus intimates that he could tell her something which could\r\nmake her merry; but he refuses to gratify her curiosity; and, by\r\nway of the siege and of Hector, \u201cthat was the towne\u2019s wall, and\r\nGreekes\u2019 yerd\u201d or scourging-rod, the conversation is brought\r\nround to Troilus, whom Pandarus highly extols as \u201cthe wise\r\nworthy Hector the second.\u201d She has, she says, already heard\r\nTroilus praised for his bravery \u201cof them that her were liefest\r\npraised be\u201d [by whom it would be most welcome to her to be\r\npraised].\r\n\r\n\u201cYe say right sooth, y-wis,\u201d quoth Pandarus;\r\nFor yesterday, who so had with him been,\r\nMight have wonder\u2019d upon Troilus;\r\nFor never yet so thick a swarm of been*                            *bees\r\nNe flew, as did of Greekes from him flee\u2019n;\r\nAnd through the field, in ev\u2019ry wighte\u2019s ear,\r\nThere was no cry but \u2018Troilus is here.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cNow here, now there, he hunted them so fast,\r\nThere was but Greekes\u2019 blood; and Troilus\r\nNow him he hurt, now him adown he cast;\r\nAy where he went it was arrayed thus:\r\nHe was their death, and shield of life for us,\r\nThat as that day there durst him none withstand,\r\nWhile that he held his bloody sword in hand.\u201d\r\n\r\nPandarus makes now a show of taking leave, but Cressida\r\ndetains him, to speak of her affairs; then, the business talked\r\nover, he would again go, but first again asks his niece to arise\r\nand dance, and cast her widow\u2019s garments to mischance,\r\nbecause of the glad fortune that has befallen her. More curious\r\nthan ever, she seeks to find out Pandarus\u2019 secret; but he still\r\nparries her curiosity, skilfully hinting all the time at her good\r\nfortune, and the wisdom of seizing on it when offered. In the\r\nend he tells her that the noble Troilus so loves her, that with her\r\nit lies to make him live or die \u2014 but if Troilus dies, Pandarus\r\nshall die with him; and then she will have \u201cfished fair.\u201d <14> He\r\nbeseeches mercy for his friend:\r\n\r\n\u201c*Woe worth* the faire gemme virtueless! <15>             *evil befall!*\r\nWoe worth the herb also that *doth no boot!*     *has no remedial power*\r\nWoe worth the beauty that is rutheless!*                      *merciless\r\nWoe worth that wight that treads each under foot!\r\nAnd ye that be of beauty *crop and root*                *perfection <16>\r\nIf therewithal in you there be no ruth,*                           *pity\r\nThen is it harm ye live, by my truth!\u201d\r\n\r\nPandarus makes only the slight request that she will show\r\nTroilus somewhat better cheer, and receive visits from him, that\r\nhis life may be saved; urging that, although a man be soon going\r\nto the temple, nobody will think that he eats the images; and\r\nthat \u201csuch love of friends reigneth in all this town.\u201d\r\n\r\nCressida, which that heard him in this wise,\r\nThought: \u201cI shall feele* what he means, y-wis;\u201d                    *test\r\n\u201cNow, eme* quoth she, \u201cwhat would ye me devise?                   *uncle\r\nWhat is your rede* that I should do of this?\u201d          *counsel, opinion\r\n\u201cThat is well said,\u201d quoth he;\u201d certain best it is\r\nThat ye him love again for his loving,\r\nAs love for love is *skilful guerdoning.*        *reasonable recompense*\r\n\r\n\u201cThink eke how elde* wasteth ev\u2019ry hour                             *age\r\nIn each of you a part of your beauty;\r\nAnd therefore, ere that age do you devour,\r\nGo love, for, old, there will no wight love thee\r\nLet this proverb a lore* unto you be:                            *lesson\r\n\u2018\u201cToo late I was ware,\u201d quoth beauty when it past;\r\nAnd *elde daunteth danger* at the last.\u2019     *old age overcomes disdain*\r\n\r\n\u201cThe kinge\u2019s fool is wont to cry aloud,\r\nWhen that he thinks a woman bears her high,\r\n\u2018So longe may ye liven, and all proud,\r\nTill crowes\u2019 feet be wox* under your eye!                         *grown\r\nAnd send you then a mirror *in to pry*                      *to look in*\r\nIn which ye may your face see a-morrow!*                 *in the morning\r\n*I keep then wishe you no more sorrow.\u2019\u201d*            *I care to wish you nothing worse*\r\nWeeping, Cressida reproaches her uncle for giving her such\r\ncounsel; whereupon Pandarus, starting up, threatens to kill\r\nhimself, and would fain depart, but that his niece detains him,\r\nand, with much reluctance, promises to \u201cmake Troilus good\r\ncheer in honour.\u201d Invited by Cressida to tell how first he know\r\nher lover\u2019s woe, Pandarus then relates two soliloquies which he\r\nhad accidentally overheard, and in which Troilus had poured\r\nout all the sorrow of his passion.\r\n\r\nWith this he took his leave, and home he went\r\nAh! Lord, so was he glad and well-begone!*                        *happy\r\nCresside arose, no longer would she stent,*                        *stay\r\nBut straight into her chamber went anon,\r\nAnd sat her down, as still as any stone,\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry word gan up and down to wind\r\nThat he had said, as it came to her mind.\r\n\r\nAnd wax\u2019d somedeal astonish\u2019d in her thought,\r\nRight for the newe case; but when that she\r\n*Was full advised,* then she found right naught   *had fully considered*\r\nOf peril, why she should afeared be:\r\nFor a man may love, of possibility,\r\nA woman so, that his heart may to-brest,*                 *break utterly\r\nAnd she not love again, *but if her lest.*     *unless it so please her*\r\n\r\nBut as she sat alone, and thoughte thus,\r\nIn field arose a skirmish all without;\r\nAnd men cried in the street then:\u201d\r\nTroilus hath right now put to flight the Greekes\u2019 rout.\u201d*          *host\r\nWith that gan all the meinie* for to shout:      *(Cressida\u2019s) household\r\n\u201cAh! go we see, cast up the lattice wide,\r\nFor through this street he must to palace ride;\r\n\r\n\u201cFor other way is from the gates none,\r\nOf Dardanus,<18> where open is the chain.\u201d <19>\r\nWith that came he, and all his folk anon,\r\nAn easy pace riding, in *routes twain,*                     *two troops*\r\nRight as his *happy day* was, sooth to sayn:         *good fortune <20>*\r\nFor which men say may not disturbed be\r\nWhat shall betiden* of necessity.                                *happen\r\n\r\nThis Troilus sat upon his bay steed\r\nAll armed, save his head, full richely,\r\nAnd wounded was his horse, and gan to bleed,\r\nFor which he rode a pace full softely\r\nBut such a knightly sighte* truly                                *aspect\r\nAs was on him, was not, withoute fail,\r\nTo look on Mars, that god is of Battaile.\r\n\r\nSo like a man of armes, and a knight,\r\nHe was to see, full fill\u2019d of high prowess;\r\nFor both he had a body, and a might\r\nTo do that thing, as well as hardiness;*                        *courage\r\nAnd eke to see him in his gear* him dress,                       *armour\r\nSo fresh, so young, so wieldy* seemed he,                        *active\r\nIt was a heaven on him for to see.*                                *look\r\n\r\nHis helmet was to-hewn in twenty places,\r\nThat by a tissue* hung his back behind;                          *riband\r\nHis shield to-dashed was with swords and maces,\r\nIn which men might many an arrow find,\r\nThat thirled* had both horn, and nerve, and rind; <21>          *pierced\r\nAnd ay the people cried, \u201cHere comes our joy,\r\nAnd, next his brother, <22> holder up of Troy.\u201d\r\n\r\nFor which he wax\u2019d a little red for shame,\r\nWhen he so heard the people on him cryen\r\nThat to behold it was a noble game,\r\nHow soberly he cast adown his eyen:\r\nCresside anon gan all his cheer espien,\r\nAnd let it in her heart so softly sink,\r\nThat to herself she said, \u201cWho gives me drink?\u201d<23>\r\n\r\nFor of her owen thought she wax\u2019d all red,\r\nRememb\u2019ring her right thus: \u201cLo! this is he\r\nWhich that mine uncle swears he might be dead,\r\nBut* I on him have mercy and pity:\u201d                              *unless\r\nAnd with that thought for pure shame she\r\nGan in her head to pull, and that full fast,\r\nWhile he and all the people forth by pass\u2019d.\r\n\r\nAnd gan to cast,* and rollen up and down                         *ponder\r\nWithin her thought his excellent prowess,\r\nAnd his estate, and also his renown,\r\nHis wit, his shape, and eke his gentleness\r\nBut most her favour was, for his distress\r\nWas all for her, and thought it were ruth\r\nTo slay such one, if that he meant but truth.\r\n\r\n.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .\r\n\r\nAnd, Lord! so gan she in her heart argue\r\nOf this mattere, of which I have you told\r\nAnd what to do best were, and what t\u2019eschew,\r\nThat plaited she full oft in many a fold.<24>\r\nNow was her hearte warm, now was it cold.\r\nAnd what she thought of, somewhat shall I write,\r\nAs to mine author listeth to endite.\r\n\r\nShe thoughte first, that Troilus\u2019 person\r\nShe knew by sight, and eke his gentleness;\r\nAnd saide thus: *\u201cAll were it not to do\u2019n,\u2019*           *although it were\r\nTo grant him love, yet for the worthiness                    impossible*\r\nIt were honour, with play* and with gladness,    *pleasing entertainment\r\nIn honesty with such a lord to deal,\r\nFor mine estate,* and also for his heal.**          *reputation **health\r\n\r\n\u201cEke well I wot* my kinge\u2019s son is he;                             *know\r\nAnd, since he hath to see me such delight,\r\nIf I would utterly his sighte flee,\r\nParauntre* he might have me in despite,                    *peradventure\r\nThrough which I mighte stand in worse plight. <25>\r\nNow were I fool, me hate to purchase*                 *obtain for myself\r\nWithoute need, where I may stand in grace,*                      *favour\r\n\r\n\u201cIn ev\u2019rything, I wot, there lies measure;*              *a happy medium\r\nFor though a man forbidde drunkenness,\r\nHe not forbids that ev\u2019ry creature\r\nBe drinkeless for alway, as I guess;\r\nEke, since I know for me is his distress,\r\nI oughte not for that thing him despise,\r\nSince it is so he meaneth in good wise.\r\n\r\n\u201cNow set a case, that hardest is, y-wis,\r\nMen mighte deeme* that he loveth me;                            *believe\r\nWhat dishonour were it unto me, this?\r\nMay I *him let of* that? Why, nay, pardie!            *prevent him from*\r\nI know also, and alway hear and see,\r\nMen love women all this town about;\r\nBe they the worse? Why, nay, withoute doubt!\r\n\r\n\u201cNor me to love a wonder is it not;\r\nFor well wot I myself, so God me speed! \u2014\r\n*All would I* that no man wist of this thought \u2014     *although I would*\r\nI am one of the fairest, without drede,*                          *doubt\r\nAnd goodlieste, who so taketh heed;\r\nAnd so men say in all the town of Troy;\r\nWhat wonder is, though he on me have joy?\r\n\r\n\u201cI am mine owen woman, well at ease,\r\nI thank it God, as after mine estate,\r\nRight young, and stand untied in *lusty leas,*           *pleasant leash\r\nWithoute jealousy, or such debate:                            (of love)*\r\nShall none husband say to me checkmate;\r\nFor either they be full of jealousy,\r\nOr masterful, or love novelty.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat shall I do? to what fine* live I thus?                        *end\r\nShall I not love, in case if that me lest?\r\nWhat? pardie! I am not religious;<26>\r\nAnd though that I mine hearte set at rest\r\nAnd keep alway mine honour and my name,\r\nBy all right I may do to me no shame.\u201d\r\n\r\nBut right as when the sunne shineth bright\r\nIn March, that changeth oftentime his face,\r\nAnd that a cloud is put with wind to flight,\r\nWhich overspreads the sun as for a space;\r\nA cloudy thought gan through her hearte pace,*                     *pass\r\nThat overspread her brighte thoughtes all,\r\nSo that for fear almost she gan to fall.\r\n\r\nThe cloudy thought is of the loss of liberty and security, the\r\nstormy life, and the malice of wicked tongues, that love entails:\r\n\r\n[But] after that her thought began to clear,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cHe that nothing undertakes\r\nNothing achieveth, be him *loth or dear.\u201d*       *unwilling or desirous*\r\nAnd with another thought her hearte quakes;\r\nThen sleepeth hope, and after dread awakes,\r\nNow hot, now cold; but thus betwixt the tway*                       *two\r\nShe rist* her up, and wente forth to play.**     *rose **take recreation\r\n\r\nAdown the stair anon right then she went\r\nInto a garden, with her nieces three,\r\nAnd up and down they made many a went,*              *winding, turn <12>\r\nFlexippe and she, Tarke, Antigone,\r\nTo playe, that it joy was for to see;\r\nAnd other of her women, a great rout,*                            *troop\r\nHer follow\u2019d in the garden all about.\r\n\r\nThis yard was large, and railed the alleys,\r\nAnd shadow\u2019d well with blossomy boughes green,\r\nAnd benched new, and sanded all the ways,\r\nIn which she walked arm and arm between;\r\nTill at the last Antigone the sheen*                     *bright, lovely\r\nGan on a Trojan lay to singe clear,\r\nThat it a heaven was her voice to hear.\r\n\r\nAntigone\u2019s song is of virtuous love for a noble object; and it is\r\nsingularly fitted to deepen the impression made on the mind of\r\nCressida by the brave aspect of Troilus, and by her own\r\ncogitations. The singer, having praised the lover and rebuked\r\nthe revilers of love, proceeds:\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat is the Sunne worse of his *kind right,*              *true nature*\r\nThough that a man, for feebleness of eyen,\r\nMay not endure to see on it for bright? <27>\r\nOr Love the worse, tho\u2019 wretches on it cryen?\r\nNo weal* is worth, that may no sorrow drien;** <28>  *happiness **endure\r\nAnd forthy,* who that hath a head of verre,**    *therefore **glass <29>\r\nFrom cast of stones ware him in the werre. <30>\r\n\r\n\u201cBut I, with all my heart and all my might,\r\nAs I have lov\u2019d, will love unto my last\r\nMy deare heart, and all my owen knight,\r\nIn which my heart y-growen is so fast,\r\nAnd his in me, that it shall ever last\r\n*All dread I* first to love him begin,               *although I feared*\r\nNow wot I well there is no pain therein.\u201d\r\n\r\nCressida sighs, and asks Antigone whether there is such bliss\r\namong these lovers, as they can fair endite; Antigone replies\r\nconfidently in the affirmative; and Cressida answers nothing,\r\n\u201cbut every worde which she heard she gan to printen in her\r\nhearte fast.\u201d Night draws on:\r\n\r\nThe daye\u2019s honour, and the heaven\u2019s eye,\r\nThe nighte\u2019s foe, \u2014 all this call I the Sun, \u2014\r\nGan westren* fast, and downward for to wry,**       *go west <31> **turn\r\nAs he that had his daye\u2019s course y-run;\r\nAnd white thinges gan to waxe dun\r\nFor lack of light, and starres to appear;\r\nThen she and all her folk went home in fere.*                *in company\r\n\r\nSo, when it liked her to go to rest,\r\nAnd voided* were those that voiden ought,       *gone out (of the house)\r\nShe saide, that to sleepe well her lest.*                       *pleased\r\nHer women soon unto her bed her brought;\r\nWhen all was shut, then lay she still and thought\r\nOf all these things the manner and the wise;\r\nRehearse it needeth not, for ye be wise.\r\n\r\nA nightingale upon a cedar green,\r\nUnder the chamber wall where as she lay,\r\nFull loude sang against the moone sheen,\r\nParauntre,* in his birde\u2019s wise, a lay                        *perchance\r\nOf love, that made her hearte fresh and gay;\r\nHereat hark\u2019d* she so long in good intent,                     *listened\r\nTill at the last the deade sleep her hent.*                      *seized\r\n\r\nAnd as she slept, anon right then *her mette*              *she dreamed*\r\nHow that an eagle, feather\u2019d white as bone,\r\nUnder her breast his longe clawes set,\r\nAnd out her heart he rent, and that anon,\r\nAnd did* his heart into her breast to go\u2019n,                      *caused\r\nOf which no thing she was *abash\u2019d nor smert;*         *amazed nor hurt*\r\nAnd forth he flew, with hearte left for heart.\r\n\r\nLeaving Cressida to sleep, the poet returns to Troilus and his\r\nzealous friend \u2014 with whose stratagems to bring the two lovers\r\ntogether the remainder of the Second Book is occupied.\r\nPandarus counsels Troilus to write a letter to his mistress,\r\ntelling her how he \u201cfares amiss,\u201d and \u201cbeseeching her of ruth;\u201d\r\nhe will bear the letter to his niece; and, if Troilus will ride past\r\nCressida\u2019s house, he will find his mistress and his friend sitting\r\nat a window. Saluting Pandarus, and not tarrying, his passage\r\nwill give occasion for some talk of him, which may make his\r\nears glow. With respect to the letter, Pandarus gives some\r\nshrewd hints:\r\n\r\n\u201cTouching thy letter, thou art wise enough,\r\nI wot thou *n\u2019ilt it dignely endite*       *wilt not write it haughtily*\r\nOr make it with these argumentes tough,\r\nNor scrivener-like, nor craftily it write;\r\nBeblot it with thy tears also a lite;*                           *little\r\nAnd if thou write a goodly word all soft,\r\nThough it be good, rehearse it not too oft.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor though the beste harper *pon live*                           *alive\r\nWould on the best y-sounded jolly harp\r\nThat ever was, with all his fingers five\r\nTouch ay one string, or *ay one warble harp,*     *always play one tune*\r\nWere his nailes pointed ne\u2019er so sharp,\r\nHe shoulde maken ev\u2019ry wight to dull*                     *to grow bored\r\nTo hear his glee, and of his strokes full.\r\n\r\n\u201cNor jompre* eke no discordant thing y-fere,**        *jumble **together\r\nAs thus, to use termes of physic;\r\nIn love\u2019s termes hold of thy mattere\r\nThe form alway, and *do that it be like;*           *make it consistent*\r\nFor if a painter woulde paint a pike\r\nWith ass\u2019s feet, and head it as an ape,<32>\r\nIt *\u2019cordeth not,* so were it but a jape.\u201d           *is not harmonious*\r\n\r\nTroilus writes the letter, and next morning Pandarus bears it to\r\nCressida. She refuses to receive \u201cscrip or bill that toucheth such\r\nmattere;\u201d but he thrusts it into her bosom, challenging her to\r\nthrow it away. She retains it, takes the first opportunity of\r\nescaping to her chamber to read it, finds it wholly good, and,\r\nunder her uncle\u2019s dictation, endites a reply telling her lover that\r\nshe will not make herself bound in love; \u201cbut as his sister, him\r\nto please, she would aye fain [be glad] to do his heart an ease.\u201d\r\nPandarus, under pretext of inquiring who is the owner of the\r\nhouse opposite, has gone to the window; Cressida takes her\r\nletter to him there, and tells him that she never did a thing with\r\nmore pain than write the words to which he had constrained\r\nher. As they sit side by side, on a stone of jasper, on a cushion\r\nof beaten gold, Troilus rides by, in all his goodliness. Cressida\r\nwaxes \u201cas red as rose,\u201d as she sees him salute humbly, \u201cwith\r\ndreadful cheer, and oft his hues mue [change];\u201d she likes \u201call\r\ny-fere, his person, his array, his look, his cheer, his goodly\r\nmanner, and his gentleness;\u201d so that, however she may have\r\nbeen before, \u201cto goode hope now hath she caught a thorn, she\r\nshall not pull it out this nexte week.\u201d Pandarus, striking the iron\r\nwhen it is hot, asks his niece to grant Troilus an interview; but\r\nshe strenuously declines, for fear of scandal, and because it is all\r\ntoo soon to allow him so great a liberty \u2014 her purpose being to\r\nlove him unknown of all, \u201cand guerdon [reward] him with\r\nnothing but with sight.\u201d Pandarus has other intentions; and,\r\nwhile Troilus writes daily letters with increasing love, he\r\ncontrives the means of an interview. Seeking out Deiphobus,\r\nthe brother of Troilus, he tells him that Cressida is in danger of\r\nviolence from Polyphete, and asks protection for her.\r\nDeiphobus gladly complies, promises the protection of Hector\r\nand Helen, and goes to invite Cressida to dinner on the morrow.\r\nMeantime Pandarus instructs Troilus to go to the house of\r\nDeiphobus, plead an access of his fever for remaining all night,\r\nand keep his chamber next day. \u201cLo,\u201d says the crafty promoter\r\nof love, borrowing a phrase from the hunting-field; \u201cLo, hold\r\nthee at thy tristre [tryst <33>] close, and I shall well the deer\r\nunto thy bowe drive.\u201d Unsuspicious of stratagem, Cressida\r\ncomes to dinner; and at table, Helen, Pandarus, and others,\r\npraise the absent Troilus, until \u201cher heart laughs\u201d for very pride\r\nthat she has the love of such a knight. After dinner they speak\r\nof Cressida\u2019s business; all confirm Deiphobus\u2019 assurances of\r\nprotection and aid; and Pandarus suggests that, since Troilus is\r\nthere, Cressida shall herself tell him her case. Helen and\r\nDeiphobus alone accompany Pandarus to Troilus\u2019 chamber;\r\nthere Troilus produces some documents relating to the public\r\nweal, which Hector has sent for his opinion; Helen and\r\nDeiphobus, engrossed in perusal and discussion, roam out of\r\nthe chamber, by a stair, into the garden; while Pandarus goes\r\ndown to the hall, and, pretending that his brother and Helen are\r\nstill with Troilus, brings Cressida to her lover. The Second\r\nBook leaves Pandarus whispering in his niece\u2019s ear counsel to\r\nbe merciful and kind to her lover, that hath for her such pain;\r\nwhile Troilus lies \u201cin a kankerdort,\u201d <34> hearing the\r\nwhispering without, and wondering what he shall say for this\r\n\u201cwas the first time that he should her pray of love; O! mighty\r\nGod! what shall he say?\u201d\r\n\r\nTHE THIRD BOOK.\r\n\r\nTo the Third Book is prefixed a beautiful invocation of Venus,\r\nunder the character of light:\r\n\r\nO Blissful light, of which the beames clear\r\nAdornen all the thirde heaven fair!\r\nO Sunne\u2019s love, O Jove\u2019s daughter dear!\r\nPleasance of love, O goodly debonair,*             *lovely and gracious*\r\nIn gentle heart ay* ready to repair!**         *always **enter and abide\r\nO very* cause of heal** and of gladness,                 *true **welfare\r\nY-heried* be thy might and thy goodness!                        *praised\r\n\r\nIn heav\u2019n and hell, in earth and salte sea.\r\nIs felt thy might, if that I well discern;\r\nAs man, bird, beast, fish, herb, and greene tree,\r\nThey feel in times, with vapour etern, <35>\r\nGod loveth, and to love he will not wern                          forbid\r\nAnd in this world no living creature\r\nWithoute love is worth, or may endure. <36>\r\n\r\nYe Jove first to those effectes glad,\r\nThrough which that thinges alle live and be,\r\nCommended; and him amorous y-made\r\nOf mortal thing; and as ye list,* ay ye                         *pleased\r\nGave him, in love, ease* or adversity,                         *pleasure\r\nAnd in a thousand formes down him sent\r\nFor love in earth; and *whom ye list he hent.*       *he seized whom you\r\n                                                                 wished*\r\nYe fierce Mars appeasen of his ire,\r\nAnd as you list ye make heartes dign* <37>                       *worthy\r\nAlgates* them that ye will set afire,                     *at all events\r\nThey dreade shame, and vices they resign\r\nYe do* him courteous to be, and benign;                     *make, cause\r\nAnd high or low, after* a wight intendeth,                 *according as\r\nThe joyes that he hath your might him sendeth.\r\n\r\nYe holde realm and house in unity;\r\nYe soothfast* cause of friendship be also;                         *true\r\nYe know all thilke *cover\u2019d quality*                      *secret power*\r\nOf thinges which that folk on wonder so,\r\nWhen they may not construe how it may go\r\nShe loveth him, or why he loveth her,\r\nAs why this fish, not that, comes to the weir.*<38>           *fish-trap\r\n\r\nKnowing that Venus has set a law in the universe, that whoso\r\nstrives with her shall have the worse, the poet prays to be\r\ntaught to describe some of the joy that is felt in her service; and\r\nthe Third Book opens with an account of the scene between\r\nTroilus and Cressida:\r\n\r\nLay all this meane while Troilus\r\nRecording* his lesson in this mannere;                       *memorizing\r\n*\u201cMy fay!\u201d* thought he, \u201cthus will I say, and thus;       *by my faith!*\r\nThus will I plain* unto my lady dear;                    *make my plaint\r\nThat word is good; and this shall be my cheer\r\nThis will I not forgetten in no wise;\u201d\r\nGod let him worken as he can devise.\r\n\r\nAnd, Lord! so as his heart began to quap,*                  *quake, pant\r\nHearing her coming, and *short for to sike;*          *make short sighs*\r\nAnd Pandarus, that led her by the lap,*                           *skirt\r\nCame near, and gan in at the curtain pick,*                        *peep\r\nAnd saide: \u201cGod do boot* alle sick!                  *afford a remedy to\r\nSee who is here you coming to visite;\r\nLo! here is she that is *your death to wite!\u201d*\t*to blame for your death*\r\n\r\nTherewith it seemed as he wept almost.\r\n\u201cAh! ah! God help!\u201d quoth Troilus ruefully;\r\n\u201cWhe\u2019er* me be woe, O mighty God, thou know\u2019st!                 *whether\r\nWho is there? for I see not truely.\u201d\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth Cresside, \u201cit is Pandare and I;\r\n\u201cYea, sweete heart? alas, I may not rise\r\nTo kneel and do you honour in some wise.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd dressed him upward, and she right tho*                         *then\r\nGan both her handes soft upon him lay.\r\n\u201cO! for the love of God, do ye not so\r\nTo me,\u201d quoth she; \u201cey! what is this to say?\r\nFor come I am to you for causes tway;*                              *two\r\nFirst you to thank, and of your lordship eke\r\nContinuance* I woulde you beseek.\u201d**               *protection **beseech\r\n\r\nThis Troilus, that heard his lady pray\r\nHim of lordship, wax\u2019d neither quick nor dead;\r\nNor might one word for shame to it say, <39>\r\nAlthough men shoulde smiten off his head.\r\nBut, Lord! how he wax\u2019d suddenly all red!\r\nAnd, Sir, his lesson, that he *ween\u2019d have con,*        *thought he knew\r\nTo praye her, was through his wit y-run.                       by heart*\r\n\r\nCresside all this espied well enow, \u2014\r\nFor she was wise, \u2014 and lov\u2019d him ne\u2019er the less,\r\nAll n\u2019ere he malapert, nor made avow,\r\nNor was so bold to sing a foole\u2019s mass;<40>\r\nBut, when his shame began somewhat to pass,\r\nHis wordes, as I may my rhymes hold,\r\nI will you tell, as teache bookes old.\r\n\r\nIn changed voice, right for his very dread,\r\nWhich voice eke quak\u2019d, and also his mannere\r\nGoodly* abash\u2019d, and now his hue is red,                     *becomingly\r\nNow pale, unto Cresside, his lady dear,\r\nWith look downcast, and humble *yielden cheer,*        *submissive face*\r\nLo! *altherfirste word that him astert,*        *the first word he said*\r\nWas twice: \u201cMercy, mercy, my dear heart!\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd stent* a while; and when he might *out bring,*      *stopped *speak*\r\nThe nexte was: \u201cGod wote, for I have,\r\n*As farforthly as I have conning,*                 *as far as I am able*\r\nBeen youres all, God so my soule save,\r\nAnd shall, till that I, woeful wight, *be grave;*                  *die*\r\nAnd though I dare not, cannot, to you plain,\r\nY-wis, I suffer not the lesse pain.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis much as now, O womanlike wife!\r\nI may *out bring,* and if it you displease,                  *speak out*\r\nThat shall I wreak* upon mine owne life,                         *avenge\r\nRight soon, I trow, and do your heart an ease,\r\nIf with my death your heart I may appease:\r\nBut, since that ye have heard somewhat say,\r\nNow reck I never how soon that I dey.\u201d                              *die\r\n\r\nTherewith his manly sorrow to behold\r\nIt might have made a heart of stone to rue;\r\nAnd Pandare wept as he to water wo\u2019ld, <41>\r\nAnd saide, \u201cWoe-begone* be heartes true,\u201d              *in woeful plight\r\nAnd procur\u2019d* his niece ever new and new,                         *urged\r\n\u201cFor love of Godde, make *of him an end,*          *put him out of pain*\r\nOr slay us both at ones, ere we wend.\u201d*                              *go\r\n\r\n\u201cEy! what?\u201d quoth she; \u201cby God and by my truth,\r\nI know not what ye woulde that I say;\u201d\r\n\u201cEy! what?\u201d quoth he; \u201cthat ye have on him ruth,*                  *pity\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, and do him not to dey.\u201d                           *die\r\n\u201cNow thenne thus,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI would him pray\r\nTo telle me the *fine of his intent;*                *end of his desire*\r\nYet wist* I never well what that he meant.\u201d                        *knew\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat that I meane, sweete hearte dear?\u201d\r\nQuoth Troilus, \u201cO goodly, fresh, and free!\r\nThat, with the streames* of your eyne so clear,          *beams, glances\r\nYe woulde sometimes *on me rue and see,*      *take pity and look on me*\r\nAnd then agreen* that I may be he,                    *take in good part\r\nWithoute branch of vice, in any wise,\r\nIn truth alway to do you my service,\r\n\r\n\u201cAs to my lady chief, and right resort,\r\nWith all my wit and all my diligence;\r\nAnd for to have, right as you list, comfort;\r\nUnder your yerd,* equal to mine offence,              *rod, chastisement\r\nAs death, if that *I breake your defence;*                  *do what you\r\nAnd that ye deigne me so much honour,                       forbid <42>*\r\nMe to commanden aught in any hour.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd I to be your very humble, true,\r\nSecret, and in my paines patient,\r\nAnd evermore desire, freshly new,\r\nTo serven, and be alike diligent,\r\nAnd, with good heart, all wholly your talent\r\nReceive in gree,* how sore that me smart;                      *gladness\r\nLo, this mean I, mine owen sweete heart.\u201d\r\n\r\n.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .\r\n\r\nWith that she gan her eyen on him* cast, <43>                  *Pandarus\r\nFull easily and full debonairly,*                            *graciously\r\n*Advising her,* and hied* not too fast,             *considering* **went\r\nWith ne\u2019er a word, but said him softely,\r\n\u201cMine honour safe, I will well truely,\r\nAnd in such form as ye can now devise,\r\nReceive him* fully to my service;                               *Troilus\r\n\r\n\u201cBeseeching him, for Godde\u2019s love, that he\r\nWould, in honour of truth and gentleness,\r\nAs I well mean, eke meane well to me;\r\nAnd mine honour, with *wit and business,*              *wisdom and zeal*\r\nAye keep; and if I may do him gladness,\r\nFrom henceforth, y-wis I will not feign:\r\nNow be all whole, no longer do ye plain.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut, natheless, this warn I you,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cA kinge\u2019s son although ye be, y-wis,\r\nYe shall no more have sovereignety\r\nOf me in love, than right in this case is;\r\nNor will I forbear, if ye do amiss,\r\nTo wrathe* you, and, while that ye me serve,       *be angry with, chide\r\nTo cherish you, *right after ye deserve.*               *as you deserve*\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd shortly, deare heart, and all my knight,\r\nBe glad, and drawe you to lustiness,*                          *pleasure\r\nAnd I shall truely, with all my might,\r\nYour bitter turnen all to sweeteness;\r\nIf I be she that may do you gladness,\r\nFor ev\u2019ry woe ye shall recover a bliss:\u201d\r\nAnd him in armes took, and gan him kiss.\r\n\r\nPandarus, almost beside himself for joy, falls on his knees to\r\nthank Venus and Cupid, declaring that for this miracle he hears\r\nall the bells ring; then, with a warning to be ready at his call to\r\nmeet at his house, he parts the lovers, and attends Cressida\r\nwhile she takes leave of the household \u2014 Troilus all the time\r\ngroaning at the deceit practised on his brother and Helen. When\r\nhe has got rid of them by feigning weariness, Pandarus returns\r\nto the chamber, and spends the night with him in converse. The\r\nzealous friend begins to speak \u201cin a sober wise\u201d to Troilus,\r\nreminding him of his love-pains now all at an end.\r\n\r\n\u201cSo that through me thou standest now in way\r\nTo fare well; I say it for no boast;\r\nAnd know\u2019st thou why? For, shame it is to say,\r\nFor thee have I begun a game to play,\r\nWhich that I never shall do eft* for other,**           *again **another\r\nAlthough he were a thousand fold my brother.\r\n\r\n\u201cThat is to say, for thee I am become,\r\nBetwixte game and earnest, such a mean*               *means, instrument\r\nAs make women unto men to come;\r\nThou know\u2019st thyselfe what that woulde mean;\r\nFor thee have I my niece, of vices clean,*                 *pure, devoid\r\nSo fully made thy gentleness* to trust,              *nobility of nature\r\nThat all shall be right *as thyselfe lust.*              *as you please*\r\n\r\n\u201cBut God, that *all wot,* take I to witness,          *knows everything*\r\nThat never this for covetise* I wrought,                  *greed of gain\r\nBut only to abridge* thy distress,                                *abate\r\nFor which well nigh thou diedst, as me thought;\r\nBut, goode brother, do now as thee ought,\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, and keep her out of blame;\r\nSince thou art wise, so save thou her name.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor, well thou know\u2019st, the name yet of her,\r\nAmong the people, as who saith hallow\u2019d is;\r\nFor that man is unborn, I dare well swear,\r\nThat ever yet wist* that she did amiss;                            *knew\r\nBut woe is me, that I, that cause all this,\r\nMay thinke that she is my niece dear,\r\nAnd I her eme,* and traitor eke y-fere.**          *uncle <17> **as well\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd were it wist that I, through mine engine,*       *arts, contrivance\r\nHad in my niece put this fantasy*                                 *fancy\r\nTo do thy lust,* and wholly to be thine,                       *pleasure\r\nWhy, all the people would upon it cry,\r\nAnd say, that I the worste treachery\r\nDid in this case, that ever was begun,\r\nAnd she fordone,* and thou right naught y-won.\u201d                  *ruined\r\n\r\nTherefore, ere going a step further, Pandarus prays Troilus to\r\ngive him pledges of secrecy, and impresses on his mind the\r\nmischiefs that flow from vaunting in affairs of love. \u201cOf\r\nkind,\u201d[by his very nature] he says, no vaunter is to be believed:\r\n\r\n\u201cFor a vaunter and a liar all is one;\r\nAs thus: I pose* a woman granteth me                    *suppose, assume\r\nHer love, and saith that other will she none,\r\nAnd I am sworn to holden it secre,\r\nAnd, after, I go tell it two or three;\r\nY-wis, I am a vaunter, at the least,\r\nAnd eke a liar, for I break my hest.*<44>                       *promise\r\n\r\n\u201cNow looke then, if they be not to blame,\r\nSuch manner folk; what shall I call them, what?\r\nThat them avaunt of women, and by name,\r\nThat never yet behight* them this nor that,              *promised (much\r\nNor knowe them no more than mine old hat?                  less granted)\r\nNo wonder is, so God me sende heal,*                         *prosperity\r\nThough women dreade with us men to deal!\r\n\r\n\u201cI say not this for no mistrust of you,\r\nNor for no wise men, but for fooles nice;*                   *silly <45>\r\nAnd for the harm that in the world is now,\r\nAs well for folly oft as for malice;\r\nFor well wot I, that in wise folk that vice\r\nNo woman dreads, if she be well advised;\r\nFor wise men be by fooles\u2019 harm chastised.\u201d*      *corrected, instructed\r\n\r\nSo Pandarus begs Troilus to keep silent, promises to be true all\r\nhis days, and assures him that he shall have all that he will in the\r\nlove of Cressida: \u201cthou knowest what thy lady granted thee; and\r\nday is set the charters up to make.\u201d\r\n\r\nWho mighte telle half the joy and feast\r\nWhich that the soul of Troilus then felt,\r\nHearing th\u2019effect of Pandarus\u2019 behest?\r\nHis olde woe, that made his hearte swelt,*                   *faint, die\r\nGan then for joy to wasten and to melt,\r\nAnd all the reheating <46> of his sighes sore\r\nAt ones fled, he felt of them no more.\r\n\r\nBut right so as these *holtes and these hayes,*       *woods and hedges*\r\nThat have in winter deade been and dry,\r\nReveste them in greene, when that May is,\r\nWhen ev\u2019ry *lusty listeth* best to play;         *pleasant (one) wishes*\r\nRight in that selfe wise, sooth to say,\r\nWax\u2019d suddenly his hearte full of joy,\r\nThat gladder was there never man in Troy.\r\n\r\nTroilus solemnly swears that never, \u201cfor all the good that God\r\nmade under sun,\u201d will he reveal what Pandarus asks him to keep\r\nsecret; offering to die a thousand times, if need were, and to\r\nfollow his friend as a slave all his life, in proof of his gratitude.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut here, with all my heart, I thee beseech,\r\nThat never in me thou deeme* such folly                           *judge\r\nAs I shall say; me thoughte, by thy speech,\r\nThat this which thou me dost for company,*                   *friendship\r\nI shoulde ween it were a bawdery;*                      *a bawd\u2019s action\r\n*I am not wood, all if I lewed be;*                *I am not mad, though\r\nIt is not one, that wot I well, pardie!                  I be unlearned*\r\n\r\n\u201cBut he that goes for gold, or for richess,\r\nOn such messages, call him *as thee lust;*             *what you please*\r\nAnd this that thou dost, call it gentleness,\r\nCompassion, and fellowship, and trust;\r\nDepart it so, for widewhere is wist\r\nHow that there is diversity requer\u2019d\r\nBetwixte thinges like, as I have lear\u2019d. <47>\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd that thou know I think it not nor ween,*                   *suppose\r\nThat this service a shame be or a jape,             *subject for jeering\r\nI have my faire sister Polyxene,\r\nCassandr\u2019, Helene, or any of the frape;*                       *set <48>\r\nBe she never so fair, or well y-shape,\r\nTelle me which thou wilt of ev\u2019ry one,\r\nTo have for thine, and let me then alone.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen, beseeching Pandarus soon to perform out the great\r\nenterprise of crowning his love for Cressida, Troilus bade his\r\nfriend good night. On the morrow Troilus burned as the fire, for\r\nhope and pleasure; yet \u201che not forgot his wise governance [self-\r\ncontrol];\u201d\r\n\r\nBut in himself with manhood gan restrain\r\nEach rakel* deed, and each unbridled cheer,**          *rash **demeanour\r\nThat alle those that live, sooth to sayn,\r\nShould not have wist,* by word or by mannere,                 *suspicion\r\nWhat that he meant, as touching this mattere;\r\nFrom ev\u2019ry wight as far as is the cloud\r\nHe was, so well dissimulate he could.\r\n\r\nAnd all the while that I now devise*                  *describe, narrate\r\nThis was his life: with all his fulle might,\r\nBy day he was in Marte\u2019s high service,\r\nThat is to say, in armes as a knight;\r\nAnd, for the moste part, the longe night\r\nHe lay, and thought how that he mighte serve\r\nHis lady best, her thank* for to deserve.                     *gratitude\r\n\r\nI will not swear, although he laye soft,\r\nThat in his thought he n\u2019as somewhat diseas\u2019d;*                *troubled\r\nNor that he turned on his pillows oft,\r\nAnd would of that him missed have been seis\u2019d;*               *possessed\r\nBut in such case men be not alway pleas\u2019d,\r\nFor aught I wot, no more than was he;\r\nThat can I deem* of possibility.                                  *judge\r\n\r\nBut certain is, to purpose for to go,\r\nThat in this while, as written is in gest,*              *the history of\r\nHe saw his lady sometimes, and also                         these events\r\nShe with him spake, when that she *durst and lest;*  *dared and pleased*\r\nAnd, by their both advice,* as was the best,               *consultation\r\n*Appointed full warily* in this need,        *made careful preparations*\r\nSo as they durst, how far they would proceed.\r\n\r\nBut it was spoken in *so short a wise,   *so briefly, and always in such\r\nIn such await alway, and in such fear,       vigilance and fear of being\r\nLest any wight divinen or devise*                   found out by anyone*\r\nWould of their speech, or to it lay an ear,\r\n*That all this world them not so lefe were,*      *they wanted more than\r\nAs that Cupido would them grace send              anything in the world*\r\nTo maken of their speeches right an end.\r\n\r\nBut thilke little that they spake or wrought,\r\nHis wise ghost* took ay of all such heed,                        *spirit\r\nIt seemed her he wiste what she thought\r\nWithoute word, so that it was no need\r\nTo bid him aught to do, nor aught forbid;\r\nFor which she thought that love, all* came it late,            *although\r\nOf alle joy had open\u2019d her the gate.\r\n\r\nTroilus, by his discretion, his secrecy, and his devotion, made\r\never a deeper lodgment in Cressida\u2019s heart; so that she thanked\r\nGod twenty thousand times that she had met with a man who,\r\nas she felt, \u201cwas to her a wall of steel, and shield from ev\u2019ry\r\ndispleasance;\u201d while Pandarus ever actively fanned the fire. So\r\npassed a \u201ctime sweet\u201d of tranquil and harmonious love the only\r\ndrawback being, that the lovers might not often meet, \u201cnor\r\nleisure have, their speeches to fulfil.\u201d At last Pandarus found an\r\noccasion for bringing them together at his house unknown to\r\nanybody, and put his plan in execution.\r\n\r\nFor he, with great deliberation,\r\nHad ev\u2019ry thing that hereto might avail*                  *be of service\r\nForecast, and put in execution,\r\nAnd neither left for cost nor for travail;*                      *effort\r\nCome if them list, them shoulde nothing fail,\r\n*Nor for to be in aught espied there,\r\nThat wiste he an impossible were.*           *he knew it was impossible*\r\n                                    that they could be discovered there*\r\nAnd dreadeless* it clear was in the wind                  *without doubt\r\nOf ev\u2019ry pie, and every let-game; <49>\r\nNow all is well, for all this world is blind,\r\nIn this mattere, bothe fremd* and tame; <50>                       *wild\r\nThis timber is all ready for to frame;\r\nUs lacketh naught, but that we weete* wo\u2019ld                        *know\r\nA certain hour in which we come sho\u2019ld. <51>\r\n\r\nTroilus had informed his household, that if at any time he was\r\nmissing, he had gone to worship at a certain temple of Apollo,\r\n\u201cand first to see the holy laurel quake, or that the godde spake\r\nout of the tree.\u201d So, at the changing of the moon, when \u201cthe\r\nwelkin shope him for to rain,\u201d [when the sky was preparing to\r\nrain] Pandarus went to invite his niece to supper; solemnly\r\nassuring her that Troilus was out of the town \u2014 though all the\r\ntime he was safely shut up, till midnight, in \u201ca little stew,\u201d\r\nwhence through a hole he joyously watched the arrival of his\r\nmistress and her fair niece Antigone, with half a score of her\r\nwomen. After supper Pandaras did everything to amuse his\r\nniece; \u201che sung, he play\u2019d, he told a tale of Wade;\u201d <52> at last\r\nshe would take her leave; but\r\n\r\nThe bente Moone with her hornes pale,\r\nSaturn, and Jove, in Cancer joined were, <53>\r\nThat made such a rain from heav\u2019n avail,*                       *descend\r\nThat ev\u2019ry manner woman that was there\r\nHad of this smoky rain <54> a very fear;\r\nAt which Pandarus laugh\u2019d, and saide then\r\n\u201cNow were it time a lady to go hen!\u201d*                             *hence\r\n\r\nHe therefore presses Cressida to remain all night; she complies\r\nwith a good grace; and after the sleeping cup has gone round,\r\nall retire to their chambers \u2014 Cressida, that she may not be\r\ndisturbed by the rain and thunder, being lodged in the \u201cinner\r\ncloset\u201d of Pandarus, who, to lull suspicion, occupies the outer\r\nchamber, his niece\u2019s women sleeping in the intermediate\r\napartment. When all is quiet, Pandarus liberates Troilus, and by\r\na secret passage brings him to the chamber of Cressida; then,\r\ngoing forward alone to his niece, after calming her fears of\r\ndiscovery, he tells her that her lover has \u201cthrough a gutter, by a\r\nprivy went,\u201d [a secret passage] come to his house in all this rain,\r\nmad with grief because a friend has told him that she loves\r\nHorastes. Suddenly cold about her heart, Cressida promises that\r\non the morrow she will reassure her lover; but Pandarus scouts\r\nthe notion of delay, laughs to scorn her proposal to send her\r\nring in pledge of her truth, and finally, by pitiable accounts of\r\nTroilus\u2019 grief, induces her to receive him and reassure him at\r\nonce with her own lips.\r\n\r\nThis Troilus full soon on knees him set,\r\nFull soberly, right by her bedde\u2019s head,\r\nAnd in his beste wise his lady gret*                            *greeted\r\nBut Lord! how she wax\u2019d suddenly all red,\r\nAnd thought anon how that she would be dead;\r\nShe coulde not one word aright out bring,\r\nSo suddenly for his sudden coming.\r\n\r\nCressida, though thinking that her servant and her knight should\r\nnot have doubted her truth, yet sought to remove his jealousy,\r\nand offered to submit to any ordeal or oath he might impose;\r\nthen, weeping, she covered her face, and lay silent. \u201cBut now,\u201d\r\nexclaims the poet \u2014\r\n\r\nBut now help, God, to quenchen all this sorrow!\r\nSo hope I that he shall, for he best may;\r\nFor I have seen, of a full misty morrow,*                          *morn\r\nFollowen oft a merry summer\u2019s day,\r\nAnd after winter cometh greene May;\r\nFolk see all day, and eke men read in stories,\r\nThat after sharpe stoures* be victories.           *conflicts, struggles\r\n\r\nBelieving his mistress to be angry, Troilus felt the cramp of\r\ndeath seize on his heart, \u201cand down he fell all suddenly in\r\nswoon.\u201d Pandarus \u201cinto bed him cast,\u201d and called on his niece to\r\npull out the thorn that stuck in his heart, by promising that she\r\nwould \u201call forgive.\u201d She whispered in his ear the assurance that\r\nshe was not wroth; and at last, under her caresses, he recovered\r\nconsciousness, to find her arm laid over him, to hear the\r\nassurance of her forgiveness, and receive her frequent kisses.\r\nFresh vows and explanations passed; and Cressida implored\r\nforgiveness of \u201cher own sweet heart,\u201d for the pain she had\r\ncaused him. Surprised with sudden bliss, Troilus put all in God\u2019s\r\nhand, and strained his lady fast in his arms. \u201cWhat might or may\r\nthe seely [innocent] larke say, when that the sperhawk\r\n[sparrowhawk] hath him in his foot?\u201d\r\n\r\nCressida, which that felt her thus y-take,\r\nAs write clerkes in their bookes old,\r\nRight as an aspen leaf began to quake,\r\nWhen she him felt her in his armes fold;\r\nBut Troilus, all *whole of cares cold,*   *cured of painful sorrows*<55>\r\nGan thanke then the blissful goddes seven. <56>\r\nThus sundry paines bringe folk to heaven.\r\n\r\nThis Troilus her gan in armes strain,\r\nAnd said, \u201cO sweet, as ever may I go\u2019n,*                        *prosper\r\nNow be ye caught, now here is but we twain,\r\nNow yielde you, for other boot* is none.\u201d                        *remedy\r\nTo that Cresside answered thus anon,\r\n\u201cN\u2019 had I ere now, my sweete hearte dear,\r\n*Been yolden,* y-wis, I were now not here!\u201d             *yielded myself*\r\n\r\nO sooth is said, that healed for to be\r\nOf a fever, or other great sickness,\r\nMen muste drink, as we may often see,\r\nFull bitter drink; and for to have gladness\r\nMen drinken often pain and great distress!\r\nI mean it here, as for this adventure,\r\nThat thorough pain hath founden all his cure.\r\n\r\nAnd now sweetnesse seemeth far more sweet,\r\nThat bitterness assayed* was beforn;                        *tasted <57>\r\nFor out of woe in blisse now they fleet,*                   *float, swim\r\nNone such they felte since that they were born;\r\nNow is it better than both two were lorn! <58>\r\nFor love of God, take ev\u2019ry woman heed\r\nTo worke thus, if it come to the need!\r\n\r\nCresside, all quit from ev\u2019ry dread and teen,*                     *pain\r\nAs she that juste cause had him to trust,\r\nMade him such feast,<59> it joy was for to see\u2019n,\r\nWhen she his truth and *intent cleane wist;*            *knew the purity\r\nAnd as about a tree, with many a twist,                  of his purpose*\r\n*Bitrent and writhen* is the sweet woodbind,      *plaited and wreathed*\r\nGan each of them in armes other wind.*                *embrace, encircle\r\n\r\nAnd as the *new abashed* nightingale,          *newly-arrived and timid*\r\nThat stinteth,* first when she beginneth sing,                    *stops\r\nWhen that she heareth any *herde\u2019s tale,*    *the talking of a shepherd*\r\nOr in the hedges any wight stirring;\r\nAnd, after, sicker* out her voice doth ring;                *confidently\r\nRight so Cressida, when *her dreade stent,*           *her doubt ceased*\r\nOpen\u2019d her heart, and told him her intent.*                        *mind\r\n\r\nAnd might as he that sees his death y-shapen,*                 *prepared\r\nAnd dien must, *in aught that he may guess,*       *for all he can tell*\r\nAnd suddenly *rescouse doth him escapen,*    *he is rescued and escapes*\r\nAnd from his death is brought *in sickerness;*               *to safety*\r\nFor all the world, in such present gladness\r\nWas Troilus, and had his lady sweet;\r\nWith worse hap God let us never meet!\r\n\r\nHer armes small, her straighte back and soft,\r\nHer sides longe, fleshly, smooth, and white,\r\nHe gan to stroke; and good thrift* bade full oft               *blessing\r\nOn her snow-white throat, her breastes round and lite;*           *small\r\nThus in this heaven he gan him delight,\r\nAnd therewithal a thousand times her kist,\r\nThat what to do for joy *unneth he wist.*               *he hardly knew*\r\n\r\nThe lovers exchanged vows, and kisses, and embraces, and\r\nspeeches of exalted love, and rings; Cressida gave to Troilus a\r\nbrooch of gold and azure, \u201cin which a ruby set was like a heart;\u201d\r\nand the too short night passed.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhen that the cock, commune astrologer, <60>\r\nGan on his breast to beat, and after crow,\r\nAnd Lucifer, the daye\u2019s messenger,\r\nGan for to rise, and out his beames throw;\r\nAnd eastward rose, to him that could it know,\r\nFortuna Major, <61> then anon Cresseide,\r\nWith hearte sore, to Troilus thus said:\r\n\r\n\u201cMy hearte\u2019s life, my trust, and my pleasance!\r\nThat I was born, alas! that me is woe,\r\nThat day of us must make disseverance!\r\nFor time it is to rise, and hence to go,\r\nOr else I am but lost for evermo\u2019.\r\nO Night! alas! why n\u2019ilt thou o\u2019er us hove,*                      *hover\r\nAs long as when Alcmena lay by Jove? <62>\r\n\r\n\u201cO blacke Night! as folk in bookes read\r\nThat shapen* art by God, this world to hide,                  *appointed\r\nAt certain times, with thy darke weed,*                            *robe\r\nThat under it men might in rest abide,\r\nWell oughte beastes plain, and folke chide,\r\nThat where as Day with labour would us brest,*          *burst, overcome\r\nThere thou right flee\u2019st, and deignest* not us rest.*          *grantest\r\n\r\n\u201cThou dost, alas! so shortly thine office,*                        *duty\r\nThou rakel* Night! that God, maker of kind,                 *rash, hasty\r\nThee for thy haste and thine unkinde vice,\r\nSo fast ay to our hemisphere bind,\r\nThat never more under the ground thou wind;*              *turn, revolve\r\nFor through thy rakel hieing* out of Troy                       *hasting\r\nHave I forgone* thus hastily my joy!\u201d                              *lost\r\n\r\nThis Troilus, that with these wordes felt,\r\nAs thought him then, for piteous distress,\r\nThe bloody teares from his hearte melt,\r\nAs he that never yet such heaviness\r\nAssayed had out of so great gladness,\r\nGan therewithal Cresside, his lady dear,\r\nIn armes strain, and said in this mannere:\r\n\r\n\u201cO cruel Day! accuser of the joy\r\nThat Night and Love have stol\u2019n, and *fast y-wrien!*            *closely\r\nAccursed be thy coming into Troy!                             concealed*\r\nFor ev\u2019ry bow\u2019r* hath one of thy bright eyen:                   *chamber\r\nEnvious Day! Why list thee to espyen?\r\nWhat hast thou lost? Why seekest thou this place?\r\nThere God thy light so quenche, for his grace!\r\n\r\n\u201cAlas! what have these lovers thee aguilt?*    *offended, sinned against\r\nDispiteous* Day, thine be the pains of hell!            *cruel, spiteful\r\nFor many a lover hast thou slain, and wilt;\r\nThy peering in will nowhere let them dwell:\r\nWhat! proff\u2019rest thou thy light here for to sell?\r\nGo sell it them that smalle seales grave!*               *cut devices on\r\nWe will thee not, us needs no day to have.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd eke the Sunne, Titan, gan he chide,\r\nAnd said, \u201cO fool! well may men thee despise!\r\nThat hast the Dawning <63> all night thee beside,\r\nAnd suff\u2019rest her so soon up from thee rise,\r\nFor to disease* us lovers in this wise!                           *annoy\r\nWhat! hold* thy bed, both thou, and eke thy Morrow!                *keep\r\nI bidde* God so give you bothe sorrow!\u201d                            *pray\r\n\r\nThe lovers part with many sighs and protestations of\r\nunswerving and undying love; Cressida responding to the vows\r\nof Troilus with the assurance \u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cThat first shall Phoebus* falle from his sphere,               *the sun\r\nAnd heaven\u2019s eagle be the dove\u2019s fere,\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry rock out of his place start,\r\nEre Troilus out of Cressida\u2019s heart.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen Pandarus visits Troilus in his palace later in the day, he\r\nwarns him not to mar his bliss by any fault of his own:\r\n\r\n\u201cFor, of Fortune\u2019s sharp adversity,\r\nThe worste kind of infortune is this,\r\nA man to have been in prosperity,\r\nAnd it remember when it passed is.<64>\r\nThou art wise enough; forthy,*\u201d do not amiss;                 *therefore\r\nBe not too rakel,* though thou sitte warm;             *rash, over-hasty\r\nFor if thou be, certain it will thee harm.\r\n\r\n\u201cThou art at ease, and hold thee well therein;\r\nFor, all so sure as red is ev\u2019ry fire,\r\nAs great a craft is to keep weal as win; <65>\r\nBridle alway thy speech and thy desire,\r\nFor worldly joy holds not but by a wire;\r\nThat proveth well, it breaks all day so oft,\r\nForthy need is to worke with it soft.\u201d\r\n\r\nTroilus sedulously observes the counsel; and the lovers have\r\nmany renewals of their pleasure, and of their bitter chidings of\r\nthe Day. The effects of love on Troilus are altogether refining\r\nand ennobling; as may be inferred from the song which he sung\r\noften to Pandarus:\r\n\r\nThe Second Song of Troilus.\r\n\r\n\u201cLove, that of Earth and Sea hath governance!\r\nLove, that his hestes* hath in Heaven high!                *commandments\r\nLove, that with a right wholesome alliance\r\nHolds people joined, as him list them guy!*                       *guide\r\nLove, that knitteth law and company,\r\nAnd couples doth in virtue for to dwell,\r\nBind this accord, that I have told, and tell!\r\n\r\n\u201cThat the worlde, with faith which that is stable,\r\nDiverseth so, his *stoundes according;*       *according to its seasons*\r\nThat elementes, that be discordable,*                        *discordant\r\nHolden a bond perpetually during;\r\nThat Phoebus may his rosy day forth bring;\r\nAnd that the Moon hath lordship o\u2019er the night; \u2014\r\nAll this doth Love, ay heried* be his might!                    *praised\r\n\r\n\u201cThat the sea, which that greedy is to flowen,\r\nConstraineth to a certain ende* so                                *limit\r\nHis floodes, that so fiercely they not growen\r\nTo drenchen* earth and all for evermo\u2019;                           *drown\r\nAnd if that Love aught let his bridle go,\r\nAll that now loves asunder shoulde leap,\r\nAnd lost were all that Love holds now *to heap.*         *together <66>*\r\n\r\n\u201cSo woulde God, that author is of kind,\r\nThat with his bond Love of his virtue list\r\nTo cherish heartes, and all fast to bind,\r\nThat from his bond no wight the way out wist!\r\nAnd heartes cold, them would I that he twist,*                   *turned\r\nTo make them love; and that him list ay rue*                  *have pity\r\nOn heartes sore, and keep them that be true.\u201d\r\n\r\nBut Troilus\u2019 love had higher fruits than singing:\r\n\r\nIn alle needes for the towne\u2019s werre*                               *war\r\nHe was, and ay the first in armes dight,*            *equipped, prepared\r\nAnd certainly, but if that bookes err,\r\nSave Hector, most y-dread* of any wight;                        *dreaded\r\nAnd this increase of hardiness* and might                       *courage\r\nCame him of love, his lady\u2019s grace to win,\r\nThat altered his spirit so within.\r\n\r\nIn time of truce, a-hawking would he ride,\r\nOr elles hunt the boare, bear, lioun;\r\nThe smalle beastes let he go beside;<67>\r\nAnd when he came riding into the town,\r\nFull oft his lady, from her window down,\r\nAs fresh as falcon coming out of mew,*                        *cage <68>\r\nFull ready was him goodly to salue.*                             *salute\r\n\r\nAnd most of love and virtue was his speech,\r\nAnd *in despite he had all wretchedness*           *he held in scorn all\r\nAnd doubtless no need was him to beseech             despicable actions*\r\nTo honour them that hadde worthiness,\r\nAnd ease them that weren in distress;\r\nAnd glad was he, if any wight well far\u2019d,\r\nThat lover was, when he it wist or heard.\r\n\r\nFor he held every man lost unless he were in Love\u2019s service;\r\nand, so did the power of Love work within him, that he was ay\r\n[always] humble and benign, and \u201cpride, envy, ire, and avarice,\r\nhe gan to flee, and ev\u2019ry other vice.\u201d\r\n\r\nTHE FOURTH BOOK\r\n\r\nA BRIEF Proem to the Fourth Book prepares us for the\r\ntreachery of Fortune to Troilus; from whom she turned away\r\nher bright face, and took of him no heed, \u201cand cast him clean\r\nout of his lady\u2019s grace, and on her wheel she set up Diomede.\u201d\r\nThen the narrative describes a skirmish in which the Trojans\r\nwere worsted, and Antenor, with many of less note, remained in\r\nthe hands of the Greeks. A truce was proclaimed for the\r\nexchange of prisoners; and as soon as Calchas heard the news,\r\nhe came to the assembly of the Greeks, to \u201cbid a boon.\u201d Having\r\ngained audience, he reminded the besiegers how he had come\r\nfrom Troy to aid and encourage them in their enterprise; willing\r\nto lose all that he had in the city, except his daughter Cressida,\r\nwhom he bitterly reproached himself for leaving behind. And\r\nnow, with streaming tears and pitiful prayer, he besought them\r\nto exchange Antenor for Cressida; assuring them that the day\r\nwas at hand when they should have both town and people. The\r\nsoothsayer\u2019s petition was granted; and the ambassadors charged\r\nto negotiate the exchange, entering the city, told their errand to\r\nKing Priam and his parliament.\r\n\r\nThis Troilus was present in the place\r\nWhen asked was for Antenor Cresside;\r\nFor which to change soon began his face,\r\nAs he that with the wordes well nigh died;\r\nBut natheless he no word to it seid;*                              *said\r\nLest men should his affection espy,\r\nWith manne\u2019s heart he gan his sorrows drie;*                     *endure\r\n\r\nAnd, full of anguish and of grisly dread,\r\nAbode what other lords would to it say,\r\nAnd if they woulde grant, \u2014 as God forbid! \u2014\r\nTh\u2019exchange of her, then thought he thinges tway:*                  *two\r\nFirst, for to save her honour; and what way\r\nHe mighte best th\u2019exchange of her withstand;\r\nThis cast he then how all this mighte stand.\r\n\r\nLove made him alle *prest to do her bide,*      *eager to make her stay*\r\nAnd rather die than that she shoulde go;\r\nBut Reason said him, on the other side,\r\n\u201cWithout th\u2019assent of her, do thou not so,\r\nLest for thy worke she would be thy foe;\r\nAnd say, that through thy meddling is y-blow*    *divulged, blown abroad\r\nYour bothe love, where it was *erst unknow.\u201d*       *previously unknown*\r\n\r\nFor which he gan deliberate for the best,\r\nThat though the lordes woulde that she went,\r\nHe woulde suffer them grant what *them lest,*             *they pleased*\r\nAnd tell his lady first what that they meant;\r\nAnd, when that she had told him her intent,\r\nThereafter would he worken all so blive,*                      *speedily\r\nThough all the world against it woulde strive.\r\n\r\nHector, which that full well the Greekes heard,\r\nFor Antenor how they would have Cresseide,\r\nGan it withstand, and soberly answer\u2019d;\r\n\u201cSirs, she is no prisoner,\u201d  he said;\r\n\u201cI know not on you who this charge laid;\r\nBut, for my part, ye may well soon him tell,\r\nWe use* here no women for to sell.\u201d                      *are accustomed\r\n\r\nThe noise of the people then upstart at once,\r\nAs breme* as blaze of straw y-set on fire              *violent, furious\r\nFor Infortune* woulde for the nonce                          *Misfortune\r\nThey shoulde their confusion desire\r\n\u201cHector,\u201d quoth they, \u201cwhat ghost* may you inspire               *spirit\r\nThis woman thus to shield, and *do us* lose                *cause us to*\r\nDan Antenor? \u2014 a wrong way now ye choose, \u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cThat is so wise, and eke so bold baroun;\r\nAnd we have need of folk, as men may see\r\nHe eke is one the greatest of this town;\r\nO Hector! lette such fantasies be!\r\nO King Priam!\u201d quoth they, \u201clo! thus say we,\r\nThat all our will is to forego Cresseide;\u201d\r\nAnd to deliver Antenor they pray\u2019d.\r\n\r\nThough Hector often prayed them \u201cnay,\u201d it was resolved that\r\nCressida should be given up for Antenor; then the parliament\r\ndispersed. Troilus hastened home to his chamber, shut himself\r\nup alone, and threw himself on his bed.\r\n\r\nAnd as in winter leaves be bereft,\r\nEach after other, till the tree be bare,\r\nSo that there is but bark and branch y-left,\r\nLay Troilus, bereft of each welfare,\r\nY-bounden in the blacke bark of care,\r\nDisposed *wood out of his wit to braid,*       *to go out of his senses*\r\n*So sore him sat* the changing of Cresseide.        *so ill did he bear*\r\n\r\nHe rose him up, and ev\u2019ry door he shet,*                           *shut\r\nAnd window eke; and then this sorrowful man\r\nUpon his bedde\u2019s side adown him set,\r\nFull like a dead image, pale and wan,\r\nAnd in his breast the heaped woe began\r\nOut burst, and he to worken in this wise,\r\nIn his woodness,* as I shall you devise.**             *madness **relate\r\n\r\nRight as the wilde bull begins to spring,\r\nNow here, now there, y-darted* to the heart,        *pierced with a dart\r\nAnd of his death roareth in complaining;\r\nRight so gan he about the chamber start,\r\nSmiting his breast aye with his fistes smart;*       *painfully, cruelly\r\nHis head to the wall, his body to the ground,\r\nFull oft he swapt,* himselfe to confound.                *struck, dashed\r\n\r\nHis eyen then, for pity of his heart,\r\nOut streameden as swifte welles* tway;                        *fountains\r\nThe highe sobbes of his sorrow\u2019s smart\r\nHis speech him reft; unnethes* might he say,                   *scarcely\r\n\u201cO Death, alas! *why n\u2019ilt thou do me dey?*            *why will you not\r\nAccursed be that day which that Nature                     make me die?*\r\nShope* me to be a living creature!\u201d                              *shaped\r\n\r\nBitterly reviling Fortune, and calling on Love to explain why his\r\nhappiness with Cressicla should be thus repealed, Troilus\r\ndeclares that, while he lives, he will bewail his misfortune in\r\nsolitude, and will never see it shine or rain, but will end his\r\nsorrowful life in darkness, and die in distress.\r\n\r\n\u201cO weary ghost, that errest to and fro!\r\nWhy n\u2019ilt* thou fly out of the woefulest                       *wilt not\r\nBody that ever might on grounde go?\r\nO soule, lurking in this woeful nest!\r\nFlee forth out of my heart, and let it brest,*                    *burst\r\nAnd follow alway Cresside, thy lady dear!\r\nThy righte place is now no longer here.\r\n\r\n\u201cO woeful eyen two! since your disport*                         *delight\r\nWas all to see Cressida\u2019s eyen bright,\r\nWhat shall ye do, but, for my discomfort,\r\nStande for naught, and weepen out your sight,\r\nSince she is quench\u2019d, that wont was you to light?\r\nIn vain, from this forth, have I eyen tway\r\nY-formed, since your virtue is away!\r\n\r\n\u201cO my Cresside! O lady sovereign\r\nOf thilke* woeful soule that now cryeth!                           *this\r\nWho shall now give comfort to thy pain?\r\nAlas! no wight; but, when my hearte dieth,\r\nMy spirit, which that so unto you hieth,*                     *hasteneth\r\nReceive *in gree,* for that shall ay you serve;            *with favour*\r\n*Forthy no force is* though the body sterve.*      *therefore no matter*\r\n                                                                    *die\r\n\u201cO ye lovers, that high upon the wheel\r\nBe set of Fortune, in good adventure,\r\nGod lene* that ye find ay** love of steel,<69>           *grant **always\r\nAnd longe may your life in joy endure!\r\nBut when ye come by my sepulture,*                            *sepulchre\r\nRemember that your fellow resteth there;\r\nFor I lov\u2019d eke, though I unworthy were.\r\n\r\n\u201cO old, unwholesome, and mislived man,\r\nCalchas I mean, alas! what ailed thee\r\nTo be a Greek, since thou wert born Trojan?\r\nO Calchas! which that will my bane* be,                     *destruction\r\nIn cursed time wert thou born for me!\r\nAs woulde blissful Jove, for his joy,\r\nThat I thee hadde where I would in Troy!\u201d\r\n\r\nSoon Troilus, through excess of grief, fell into a trance; in\r\nwhich he was found by Pandarus, who had gone almost\r\ndistracted at the news that Cressida was to be exchanged for\r\nAntenor. At his friend\u2019s arrival, Troilus \u201cgan as the snow against\r\nthe sun to melt;\u201d the two mingled their tears a while; then\r\nPandarus strove to comfort the woeful lover. He admitted that\r\nnever had a stranger ruin than this been wrought by Fortune:\r\n\r\n\u201cBut tell me this, why thou art now so mad\r\nTo sorrow thus? Why li\u2019st thou in this wise,\r\nSince thy desire all wholly hast thou had,\r\nSo that by right it ought enough suffice?\r\nBut I, that never felt in my service\r\nA friendly cheer or looking of an eye,\r\nLet me thus weep and wail until I die. <70>\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd over all this, as thou well wost* thy selve,               *knowest\r\nThis town is full of ladies all about,\r\nAnd, *to my doom,* fairer than suche twelve             *in my judgment*\r\nAs ever she was, shall I find in some rout,*                    *company\r\nYea! one or two, withouten any doubt:\r\nForthy* be glad, mine owen deare brother!                     *therefore\r\nIf she be lost, we shall recover another.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat! God forbid alway that each pleasance\r\nIn one thing were, and in none other wight;\r\nIf one can sing, another can well dance;\r\nIf this be goodly, she is glad and light;\r\nAnd this is fair, and that can good aright;\r\nEach for his virtue holden is full dear,\r\nBoth heroner, and falcon for rivere. <71>\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd eke as writ Zausis,<72> that was full wise,\r\nThe newe love out chaseth oft the old,\r\nAnd upon new case lieth new advice; <73>\r\nThink eke thy life to save thou art hold;*                        *bound\r\nSuch fire *by process shall of kinde cold;*          *shall grow cold by\r\nFor, since it is but casual pleasance,                process of nature*\r\nSome case* shall put it out of remembrance.                      *chance\r\n\r\n\u201cFor, all so sure as day comes after night,\r\nThe newe love, labour, or other woe,\r\nOr elles seldom seeing of a wight,\r\nDo old affections all *over go;*                              *overcome*\r\nAnd for thy part, thou shalt have one of tho*                     *those\r\nT\u2019abridge with thy bitter paine\u2019s smart;\r\nAbsence of her shall drive her out of heart.\u201d\r\n\r\nThese wordes said he *for the nones all,*           *only for the nonce*\r\nTo help his friend, lest he for sorrow died;\r\nFor, doubteless, to do his woe to fall,*          *make his woe subside*\r\nHe raughte* not what unthrift** that he said;             *cared **folly\r\nBut Troilus, that nigh for sorrow died,\r\nTook little heed of all that ever he meant;\r\nOne ear it heard, at th\u2019other out it went.\r\n\r\nBut, at the last, he answer\u2019d and said,\r\n\u201cFriend, This leachcraft, or y-healed thus to be,\r\nWere well sitting* if that I were a fiend,                       *recked\r\nTo traisen* her that true is unto me:                            *betray\r\nI pray God, let this counsel never the,*                         *thrive\r\nBut do me rather sterve* anon right here,                           *die\r\nEre I thus do, as thou me wouldest lear!\u201d*                        *teach\r\n\r\nTroilus protests that his lady shall have him wholly hers till\r\ndeath; and, debating the counsels of his friend, declares that\r\neven if he would, he could not love another. Then he points out\r\nthe folly of not lamenting the loss of Cressida because she had\r\nbeen his in ease and felicity \u2014  while Pandarus himself, though\r\nhe thought it so light to change to and fro in love, had not done\r\nbusily his might to change her that wrought him all the woe of\r\nhis unprosperous suit.\r\n\r\n\u201cIf thou hast had in love ay yet mischance,\r\nAnd canst it not out of thine hearte drive,\r\nI that lived in lust* and in pleasance                          *delight\r\nWith her, as much as creature alive,\r\nHow should I that forget, and that so blive?*                   *quickly\r\nO where hast thou been so long hid in mew,*<74>                    *cage\r\nThat canst so well and formally argue!\u201d\r\n\r\nThe lover condemns the whole discourse of his friend as\r\nunworthy, and calls on Death, the ender of all sorrows, to come\r\nto him and quench his heart with his cold stroke. Then he distils\r\nanew in tears, \u201cas liquor out of alembic;\u201d and Pandarus is silent\r\nfor a while, till he bethinks him to recommend to Troilus the\r\ncarrying off of Cressida. \u201cArt thou in Troy, and hast no\r\nhardiment [daring, boldness] to take a woman which that loveth\r\nthee?\u201d  But Troilus reminds his counsellor that all the war had\r\ncome from the ravishing of a woman by might (the abduction of\r\nHelen by Paris); and that it would not beseem him to withstand\r\nhis father\u2019s grant, since the lady was to be changed for the\r\ntown\u2019s good. He has dismissed the thought of asking Cressida\r\nfrom his father, because that would be to injure her fair fame, to\r\nno purpose, for Priam could not overthrow the decision of \u201cso\r\nhigh a place as parliament;\u201d while most of all he fears to perturb\r\nher heart with violence, to the slander of her name \u2014 for he\r\nmust hold her honour dearer than himself in every case, as\r\nlovers ought of right:\r\n\r\n\u201cThus am I in desire and reason twight:*                        *twisted\r\nDesire, for to disturbe her, me redeth;*                     *counseleth\r\nAnd Reason will not, so my hearte dreadeth.\u201d*               *is in doubt\r\n\r\nThus weeping, that he coulde never cease\r\nHe said, \u201cAlas! how shall I, wretche, fare?\r\nFor well feel I alway my love increase,\r\nAnd hope is less and less alway, Pandare!\r\nIncreasen eke the causes of my care;\r\nSo well-away! *why n\u2019 ill my hearte brest?*                *why will not\r\nFor us in love there is but little rest.\u201d               my heart break?*\r\n\r\nPandare answered, \u201cFriend, thou may\u2019st for me\r\nDo as thee list;* but had I it so hot,                           *please\r\nAnd thine estate,* she shoulde go with me!                         *rank\r\nThough all this town cried on this thing by note,\r\nI would not set* all that noise a groat;                          *value\r\nFor when men have well cried, then will they rown,*             *whisper\r\nEke wonder lasts but nine nights ne\u2019er in town.\r\n\r\n\u201cDivine not in reason ay so deep,\r\nNor courteously, but help thyself anon;\r\nBet* is that others than thyselfe weep;                          *better\r\nAnd namely, since ye two be all one,\r\nRise up, for, by my head, she shall not go\u2019n!\r\nAnd rather be in blame a little found,\r\nThan sterve* here as a gnat withoute wound!                         *die\r\n\r\n\u201cIt is no shame unto you, nor no vice,\r\nHer to withholde, that ye loveth most;\r\nParauntre* she might holde thee for nice,**      *peradventure **foolish\r\nTo let her go thus unto the Greeks\u2019 host;\r\nThink eke, Fortune, as well thyselfe wost,\r\nHelpeth the hardy man to his emprise,\r\nAnd weiveth* wretches for their cowardice.                    *forsaketh\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd though thy lady would a lite* her grieve,                   *little\r\nThou shalt thyself thy peace thereafter make;\r\nBut, as to me, certain I cannot \u2019lieve\r\nThat she would it as now for evil take:\r\nWhy shoulde then for fear thine hearte quake?\r\nThink eke how Paris hath, that is thy brother,\r\nA love; and why shalt thou not have another?\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, Troilus, one thing I dare thee swear,\r\nThat if Cressida, which that is thy lief,*                         *love\r\nNow loveth thee as well as thou dost her,\r\nGod help me so, she will not take agrief*                         *amiss\r\nThough thou *anon do boot in* this mischief;           *provide a remedy\r\nAnd if she willeth from thee for to pass,                   immediately*\r\nThen is she false, so love her well the lass.*                     *less\r\n\r\n\u201cForthy,* take heart, and think, right as a knight,           *therefore\r\nThrough love is broken all day ev\u2019ry law;\r\nKithe* now somewhat thy courage and thy might;                     *show\r\nHave mercy on thyself, *for any awe;*             *in spite of any fear*\r\nLet not this wretched woe thine hearte gnaw;\r\nBut, manly, set the world on six and seven, <75>\r\nAnd, if thou die a martyr, go to heaven.\u201d\r\n\r\nPandarus promises his friend all aid in the enterprise; it is agreed\r\nthat Cressida shall be carried off, but only with her own\r\nconsent; and Pandarus sets out for his niece\u2019s house, to arrange\r\nan interview. Meantime Cressida has heard the news; and,\r\ncaring nothing for her father, but everything for Troilus, she\r\nburns in love and fear, unable to tell what she shall do.\r\n\r\nBut, as men see in town, and all about,\r\nThat women use* friendes to visite,                      *are accustomed\r\nSo to Cresside of women came a rout,*                             *troop\r\nFor piteous joy, and *weened her delight,*       *thought to please her*\r\nAnd with their tales, *dear enough a mite,*           *not worth a mite*\r\nThese women, which that in the city dwell,\r\nThey set them down, and said as I shall tell.\r\n\r\nQuoth first that one, \u201cI am glad, truely,\r\nBecause of you, that shall your father see;\u201d\r\nAnother said, \u201cY-wis, so am not I,\r\nFor all too little hath she with us be.\u201d*                          *been\r\nQuoth then the third, \u201cI hope, y-wis, that she\r\nShall bringen us the peace on ev\u2019ry side;\r\nThen, when she goes, Almighty God her guide!\u201d\r\n\r\nThose wordes, and those womanishe thinges,\r\nShe heard them right as though she thennes* were,       *thence; in some\r\nFor, God it wot, her heart on other thing is;                other place\r\nAlthough the body sat among them there,\r\nHer advertence* is always elleswhere;                         *attention\r\nFor Troilus full fast her soule sought;\r\nWithoute word, on him alway she thought.\r\n\r\nThese women that thus weened her to please,\r\nAboute naught gan all their tales spend;\r\nSuch vanity ne can do her no ease,\r\nAs she that all this meane while brenn\u2019d\r\nOf other passion than that they wend;*                 *weened, supposed\r\nSo that she felt almost her hearte die\r\nFor woe, and weary* of that company.                          *weariness\r\n\r\nFor whiche she no longer might restrain\r\nHer teares, they began so up to well,\r\nThat gave signes of her bitter pain,\r\nIn which her spirit was, and muste dwell,\r\nRememb\u2019ring her from heav\u2019n into which hell\r\nShe fallen was, since she forwent* the sight                       *lost\r\nOf Troilus; and sorrowfully she sight.*                          *sighed\r\n\r\nAnd thilke fooles, sitting her about,\r\nWeened that she had wept and siked* sore,                        *sighed\r\nBecause that she should out of that rout*                       *company\r\nDepart, and never playe with them more;\r\nAnd they that hadde knowen her of yore\r\nSaw her so weep, and thought it kindeness,\r\nAnd each of them wept eke for her distress.\r\n\r\nAnd busily they gonnen* her comfort                               *began\r\nOf thing, God wot, on which she little thought;\r\nAnd with their tales weened her disport,\r\nAnd to be glad they her besought;\r\nBut such an ease therewith they in her wrought,\r\nRight as a man is eased for to feel,\r\nFor ache of head, to claw him on his heel.\r\n\r\nBut, after all this nice* vanity,                                 *silly\r\nThey took their leave, and home they wenten all;\r\nCressida, full of sorrowful pity,\r\nInto her chamber up went out of the hall,\r\nAnd on her bed she gan for dead to fall,\r\nIn purpose never thennes for to rise;\r\nAnd thus she wrought, as I shall you devise.*                   *narrate\r\n\r\nShe rent her sunny hair, wrung her hands, wept, and bewailed\r\nher fate; vowing that, since, \u201cfor the cruelty,\u201d she could handle\r\nneither sword nor dart, she would abstain from meat and drink\r\nuntil she died. As she lamented, Pandarus entered, making her\r\ncomplain a thousand times more at the thought of all the joy\r\nwhich he had given her with her lover; but he somewhat\r\nsoothed her by the prospect of Troilus\u2019s visit, and by the\r\ncounsel to contain her grief when he should come. Then\r\nPandarus went in search of Troilus, whom he found solitary in a\r\ntemple, as one that had ceased to care for life:\r\n\r\nFor right thus was his argument alway:\r\nHe said he was but lorne,* well-away!                      *lost, ruined\r\n\u201cFor all that comes, comes by necessity;\r\nThus, to be lorn,* it is my destiny.                       *lost, ruined\r\n\r\n\u201cFor certainly this wot I well,\u201d he said,\r\n\u201cThat foresight of the divine purveyance*                    *providence\r\nHath seen alway me to forgo* Cresseide,                            *lose\r\nSince God sees ev\u2019ry thing, *out of doubtance,*          *without doubt*\r\nAnd them disposeth, through his ordinance,\r\nIn their merites soothly for to be,\r\nAs they should come by predestiny.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut natheless, alas! whom shall I \u2019lieve?\r\nFor there be greate clerkes* many one                          *scholars\r\nThat destiny through argumentes preve,                            *prove\r\nAnd some say that needly* there is none,                    *necessarily\r\nBut that free choice is giv\u2019n us ev\u2019ry one;\r\nO well-away! so sly are clerkes old,\r\nThat I n\u2019ot* whose opinion I may hold. <76>                    *know not\r\n\r\n\u201cFor some men say, if God sees all beforn,\r\nGodde may not deceived be, pardie!\r\nThen must it fallen,* though men had it sworn,           *befall, happen\r\nThat purveyance hath seen before to be;\r\nWherefore I say, that from etern* if he                        *eternity\r\nHath wist* before our thought eke as our deed,                    *known\r\nWe have no free choice, as these clerkes read.*                *maintain\r\n\r\n\u201cFor other thought, nor other deed also,\r\nMight never be, but such as purveyance,\r\nWhich may not be deceived never mo\u2019,\r\nHath feeled* before, without ignorance;                       *perceived\r\nFor if there mighte be a variance,\r\nTo writhen out from Godde\u2019s purveying,\r\nThere were no prescience of thing coming,\r\n\r\n\u201cBut it were rather an opinion\r\nUncertain, and no steadfast foreseeing;\r\nAnd, certes, that were an abusion,*                            *illusion\r\nThat God should have no perfect clear weeting,*               *knowledge\r\nMore than we men, that have *doubtous weening;*        *dubious opinion*\r\nBut such an error *upon God to guess,*                *to impute to God*\r\nWere false, and foul, and wicked cursedness.*                   *impiety\r\n\r\n\u201cEke this is an opinion of some\r\nThat have their top full high and smooth y-shore, <77>\r\nThey say right thus, that thing is not to come,\r\nFor* that the prescience hath seen before                       *because\r\nThat it shall come; but they say, that therefore\r\nThat it shall come, therefore the purveyance\r\nWot it before, withouten ignorance.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, in this manner, this necessity\r\n*Returneth in his part contrary again;*          *reacts in the opposite\r\nFor needfully behoves it not to be,                           direction*\r\nThat thilke thinges *fallen in certain,*              *certainly happen*\r\nThat be purvey\u2019d; but needly, as they sayn,\r\nBehoveth it that thinges, which that fall,\r\nThat they in certain be purveyed all.\r\n\r\n\u201cI mean as though I labour\u2019d me in this\r\nTo inquire which thing cause of which thing be;\r\nAs, whether that the prescience of God is\r\nThe certain cause of the necessity\r\nOf thinges that to come be, pardie!\r\nOr if necessity of thing coming\r\nBe cause certain of the purveying.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut now *enforce I me not* in shewing             *I do not lay stress*\r\nHow th\u2019order of causes stands; but well wot I,\r\nThat it behoveth, that the befalling\r\nOf thinges wiste* before certainly,                               *known\r\nBe necessary, *all seem it not* thereby,     *though it does not appear*\r\nThat prescience put falling necessair\r\nTo thing to come, all fall it foul or fair.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor, if there sit a man yond on a see,*                           *seat\r\nThen by necessity behoveth it\r\nThat certes thine opinion sooth be,\r\nThat weenest, or conjectest,* that he sit;                 *conjecturest\r\nAnd, furtherover, now againward yet,\r\nLo! right so is it on the part contrary;\r\nAs thus, \u2014 now hearken, for I will not tarry; \u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cI say that if th\u2019opinion of thee\r\nBe sooth, for that he sits, then say I this,\r\nThat he must sitte by necessity;\r\nAnd thus necessity in either is,\r\nFor in him need of sitting is, y-wis,\r\nAnd, in thee, need of sooth; and thus forsooth\r\nThere must necessity be in you both.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut thou may\u2019st say he sits not therefore\r\nThat thine opinion of his sitting sooth\r\nBut rather, for the man sat there before,\r\nTherefore is thine opinion sooth, y-wis;\r\nAnd I say, though the cause of sooth of this\r\nComes of his sitting, yet necessity\r\nIs interchanged both in him and thee.\r\n\r\n\u201cThus in the same wise, out of doubtance,\r\nI may well maken, as it seemeth me,\r\nMy reasoning of Godde\u2019s purveyance,\r\nAnd of the thinges that to come be;\r\nBy whiche reason men may well y-see\r\nThat thilke* thinges that in earthe fall,**              *those **happen\r\nThat by necessity they comen all.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor although that a thing should come, y-wis,\r\nTherefore it is purveyed certainly,\r\nNot that it comes for it purveyed is;\r\nYet, natheless, behoveth needfully\r\nThat thing to come be purvey\u2019d truely;\r\nOr elles thinges that purveyed be,\r\nThat they betide* by necessity.                                  *happen\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd this sufficeth right enough, certain,\r\nFor to destroy our free choice ev\u2019ry deal;\r\nBut now is this abusion,* to sayn              *illusion, self-deception\r\nThat falling of the thinges temporel\r\nIs cause of Godde\u2019s prescience eternel;\r\nNow truely that is a false sentence,*                 *opinion, judgment\r\nThat thing to come should cause his prescience.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat might I ween, an\u2019* I had such a thought,                       *if\r\nBut that God purveys thing that is to come,\r\nFor that it is to come, and elles nought?\r\nSo might I ween that thinges, all and some,\r\nThat *whilom be befall and overcome,*                     *have happened\r\nBe cause of thilke sov\u2019reign purveyance,                  in times past*\r\nThat foreknows all, withouten ignorance.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd over all this, yet say I more thereto, \u2014\r\nThat right as when I wot there is a thing,\r\nY-wis, that thing must needfully be so;\r\nEke right so, when I wot a thing coming,\r\nSo must it come; and thus the befalling\r\nOf thinges that be wist before the tide,*                          *time\r\nThey may not be eschew\u2019d* on any side.\u201d                         *avoided\r\n\r\nWhile Troilus was in all this heaviness, disputing with himself in\r\nthis matter, Pandarus joined him, and told him the result of the\r\ninterview with Cressida; and at night the lovers met, with what\r\nsighs and tears may be imagined. Cressida swooned away, so\r\nthat Troilus took her for dead; and, having tenderly laid out her\r\nlimbs, as one preparing a corpse for the bier, he drew his sword\r\nto slay himself upon her body. But, as God would, just at that\r\nmoment she awoke out of her swoon; and by and by the pair\r\nbegan to talk of their prospects. Cressida declared the opinion,\r\nsupporting it at great length and with many reasons, that there\r\nwas no cause for half so much woe on either part. Her\r\nsurrender, decreed by the parliament, could not be resisted; it\r\nwas quite easy for them soon to meet again; she would bring\r\nthings about that she should be back in Troy within a week or\r\ntwo; she would take advantage of the constant coming and\r\ngoing while the truce lasted; and the issue would be, that the\r\nTrojans would have both her and Antenor; while, to facilitate\r\nher return, she had devised a stratagem by which, working on\r\nher father\u2019s avarice, she might tempt him to desert from the\r\nGreek camp back to the city. \u201cAnd truly,\u201d says the poet, having\r\nfully reported her plausible speech,\r\n\r\nAnd truely, as written well I find,\r\nThat all this thing was said *of good intent,*               *sincerely*\r\nAnd that her hearte true was and kind\r\nTowardes him, and spake right as she meant,\r\nAnd that she starf* for woe nigh when she went,                    *died\r\nAnd was in purpose ever to be true;\r\nThus write they that of her workes knew.\r\n\r\nThis Troilus, with heart and ears y-sprad,*                    *all open\r\nHeard all this thing devised to and fro,\r\nAnd verily it seemed that he had\r\n*The selfe wit;* but yet to let her go                *the same opinion*\r\nHis hearte misforgave* him evermo\u2019;                             *misgave\r\nBut, finally, he gan his hearte wrest*                           *compel\r\nTo truste her, and took it for the best.\r\n\r\nFor which the great fury of his penance*                      *suffering\r\nWas quench\u2019d with hope, and therewith them between\r\nBegan for joy the amorouse dance;\r\nAnd as the birdes, when the sun is sheen,                        *bright\r\nDelighten in their song, in leaves green,\r\nRight so the wordes that they spake y-fere*                    *together\r\nDelighten them, and make their heartes cheer.*                     *glad\r\n\r\nYet Troilus was not so well at ease, that he did not earnestly\r\nentreat Cressida to observe her promise; for, if she came not\r\ninto Troy at the set day, he should never have health, honour, or\r\njoy; and he feared that the stratagem by which she would try to\r\nlure her father back would fail, so that she might be compelled\r\nto remain among the Greeks. He would rather have them steal\r\naway together, with sufficient treasure to maintain them all their\r\nlives; and even if they went in their bare shirt, he had kin and\r\nfriends elsewhere, who would welcome and honour them.\r\n\r\nCressida, with a sigh, right in this wise\r\nAnswer\u2019d; \u201cY-wis, my deare hearte true,\r\nWe may well steal away, as ye devise,\r\nAnd finde such unthrifty wayes new;\r\nBut afterward full sore *it will us rue;*            *we will regret it*\r\nAnd help me God so at my moste need\r\nAs causeless ye suffer all this dread!\r\n\r\n\u201cFor thilke* day that I for cherishing                        *that same\r\nOr dread of father, or of other wight,\r\nOr for estate, delight, or for wedding,\r\nBe false to you, my Troilus, my knight,\r\nSaturne\u2019s daughter Juno, through her might,\r\nAs wood* as Athamante <78> do me dwell                              *mad\r\nEternally in Styx the pit of hell!\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd this, on ev\u2019ry god celestial\r\nI swear it you, and eke on each goddess,\r\nOn ev\u2019ry nymph, and deity infernal,\r\nOn Satyrs and on Faunes more or less,\r\nThat *halfe goddes* be of wilderness;                          *demigods\r\nAnd Atropos my thread of life to-brest,*                  *break utterly\r\nIf I be false! now trow* me if you lest.**             *believe **please\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd thou Simois, <79> that as an arrow clear\r\nThrough Troy ay runnest downward to the sea,\r\nBear witness of this word that said is here!\r\nThat thilke day that I untrue be\r\nTo Troilus, mine owen hearte free,\r\nThat thou returne backward to thy well,\r\nAnd I with body and soul sink in hell!\u201d\r\n\r\nEven yet Troilus was not wholly content, and urged anew his\r\nplan of secret flight; but Cressida turned upon him with the\r\ncharge that he mistrusted her causelessly, and demanded of him\r\nthat he should be faithful in her absence, else she must die at her\r\nreturn. Troilus promised faithfulness in far simpler and briefer\r\nwords than Cressida had used.\r\n\r\n\u201cGrand mercy, good heart mine, y-wis,\u201d quoth she;\r\n\u201cAnd blissful Venus let me never sterve,*                           *die\r\nEre I may stand *of pleasance in degree          in a position to reward\r\nTo quite him*  that so well can deserve;         him well with pleasure*\r\nAnd while that God my wit will me conserve,\r\nI shall so do; so true I have you found,\r\nThat ay honour to me-ward shall rebound.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor truste well that your estate* royal,                          *rank\r\nNor vain delight, nor only worthiness\r\nOf you in war or tourney martial,\r\nNor pomp, array, nobley, nor eke richess,\r\nNe made me to rue* on your distress;                          *take pity\r\nBut moral virtue, grounded upon truth,\r\nThat was the cause I first had on you ruth.*                       *pity\r\n\r\n\u201cEke gentle heart, and manhood that ye had,\r\nAnd that ye had, \u2014 as me thought, \u2014 in despite\r\nEvery thing that *sounded unto* bad,        *tended unto, accorded with*\r\nAs rudeness, and peoplish* appetite,                             *vulgar\r\nAnd that your reason bridled your delight;\r\nThis made, aboven ev\u2019ry creature,\r\nThat I was yours, and shall while I may dure.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd this may length of yeares not fordo,*             *destroy, do away\r\nNor remuable* Fortune deface;                                  *unstable\r\nBut Jupiter, that of his might may do\r\nThe sorrowful to be glad, so give us grace,\r\nEre nightes ten to meeten in this place,\r\nSo that it may your heart and mine suffice!\r\nAnd fare now well, for time is that ye rise.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe lovers took a heart-rending adieu; and Troilus, suffering\r\nunimaginable anguish, \u201cwithoute more, out of the chamber\r\nwent.\u201d\r\n\r\nTHE FIFTH BOOK.\r\n\r\nAPPROACHE gan the fatal destiny\r\nThat Jovis hath in disposition,\r\nAnd to you angry Parcae,* Sisters three,                      *The Fates\r\nCommitteth to do execution;\r\nFor which Cressida must out of the town,\r\nAnd Troilus shall dwelle forth in pine,*                           *pain\r\nTill Lachesis his thread no longer twine.*                        *twist\r\n\r\nThe golden-tressed Phoebus, high aloft,\r\nThries* had alle, with his beames clear,                         *thrice\r\nThe snowes molt,* and Zephyrus as oft                            *melted\r\nY-brought again the tender leaves green,\r\nSince that *the son of Hecuba the queen*                  *Troilus <80>*\r\nBegan to love her first, for whom his sorrow\r\nWas all, that she depart should on the morrow\r\n\r\nIn the morning, Diomede was ready to escort Cressida to the\r\nGreek host; and Troilus, seeing him mount his horse, could with\r\ndifficulty resist an impulse to slay him \u2014 but restrained himself,\r\nlest his lady should be also slain in the tumult. When Cressida\r\nwas ready to go,\r\n\r\nThis Troilus, in guise of courtesy,\r\nWith hawk on hand, and with a huge rout*                 *retinue, crowd\r\nOf knightes, rode, and did her company,\r\nPassing alle the valley far without;\r\nAnd farther would have ridden, out of doubt,\r\nFull fain,* and woe was him to go so soon,                       *gladly\r\nBut turn he must, and it was eke to do\u2019n.\r\n\r\nAnd right with that was Antenor y-come\r\nOut of the Greekes\u2019 host, and ev\u2019ry wight\r\nWas of it glad, and said he was welcome;\r\nAnd Troilus, *all n\u2019ere his hearte light,*           *although his heart\r\nHe pained him, with all his fulle might,                  was not light*\r\nHim to withhold from weeping at the least;\r\nAnd Antenor he kiss\u2019d and made feast.\r\n\r\nAnd therewithal he must his leave take,\r\nAnd cast his eye upon her piteously,\r\nAnd near he rode, his cause* for to make               *excuse, occasion\r\nTo take her by the hand all soberly;\r\nAnd, Lord! so she gan weepe tenderly!\r\nAnd he full soft and slily gan her say,\r\n\u201cNow hold your day, and *do me not to dey.\u201d*        *do not make me die*\r\n\r\nWith that his courser turned he about,\r\nWith face pale, and unto Diomede\r\nNo word he spake, nor none of all his rout;\r\nOf which the son of Tydeus <81> tooke heed,\r\nAs he that couthe* more than the creed <82>                        *knew\r\nIn such a craft, and by the rein her hent;*                        *took\r\nAnd Troilus to Troye homeward went.\r\n\r\nThis Diomede, that led her by the bridle,\r\nWhen that he saw the folk of Troy away,\r\nThought, \u201cAll my labour shall not be *on idle,*               *in  vain*\r\nIf that I may, for somewhat shall I say;\r\nFor, at the worst, it may yet short our way;\r\nI have heard say eke, times twice twelve,\r\nHe is a fool that will forget himselve.\u201d\r\n\r\nBut natheless, this thought he well enough,\r\nThat \u201cCertainly I am aboute naught,\r\nIf that I speak of love, or *make it tough;*           *make any violent\r\nFor, doubteless, if she have in her thought            immediate effort*\r\nHim that I guess, he may not be y-brought\r\nSo soon away; but I shall find a mean,\r\nThat she *not wit as yet shall* what I mean.\u201d       *shall not yet know*\r\n\r\nSo he began a general conversation, assured her of not less\r\nfriendship and honour among the Greeks than she had enjoyed\r\nin Troy, and requested of her earnestly to treat him as a brother\r\nand accept his service \u2014 for, at last he said, \u201cI am and shall be\r\nay, while that my life may dure, your own, aboven ev\u2019ry\r\ncreature.\r\n\r\n\u201cThus said I never e\u2019er now to woman born;\r\nFor, God mine heart as wisly* gladden so!                        *surely\r\nI loved never woman herebeforn,\r\nAs paramours, nor ever shall no mo\u2019;\r\nAnd for the love of God be not my foe,\r\nAll* can I not to you, my lady dear,                           *although\r\nComplain aright, for I am yet to lear.*                           *teach\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd wonder not, mine owen lady bright,\r\nThough that I speak of love to you thus blive;*                    *soon\r\nFor I have heard ere this of many a wight\r\nThat loved thing he ne\u2019er saw in his live;\r\nEke I am not of power for to strive\r\nAgainst the god of Love, but him obey\r\nI will alway, and mercy I you pray.\u201d\r\n\r\nCressida answered his discourses as though she scarcely heard\r\nthem; yet she thanked him for his trouble and courtesy, and\r\naccepted his offered friendship \u2014 promising to trust him, as well\r\nshe might. Then she alighted from her steed, and, with her heart\r\nnigh breaking, was welcomed to the embrace of her father.\r\nMeanwhile Troilus, back in Troy, was lamenting with tears the\r\nloss of his love, despairing of his or her ability to survive the ten\r\ndays, and spending the night in wailing, sleepless tossing, and\r\ntroublous dreams. In the morning he was visited by Pandarus,\r\nto whom he gave directions for his funeral; desiring that the\r\npowder into which his heart was burned should be kept in a\r\ngolden urn, and given to Cressida. Pandarus renewed his old\r\ncounsels and consolations, reminded his friend that ten days\r\nwere a short time to wait, argued against his faith in evil\r\ndreams, and urged him to take advantage of the truce, and\r\nbeguile the time by a visit to King Sarpedon (a Lycian Prince\r\nwho had come to aid the Trojans). Sarpedon entertained them\r\nsplendidly; but no feasting, no pomp, no music of instruments,\r\nno singing of fair ladies, could make up for the absence of\r\nCressida to the desolate Troilus, who was for ever poring upon\r\nher old letters, and recalling her loved form. Thus he \u201cdrove to\r\nan end\u201d the fourth day, and would have then returned to Troy,\r\nbut for the remonstrances of Pandarus, who asked if they had\r\nvisited Sarpedon only to fetch fire? At last, at the end of a\r\nweek, they returned to Troy; Troilus hoping to find Cressida\r\nagain in the city, Pandarus entertaining a scepticism which he\r\nconcealed from his friend. The morning after their return,\r\nTroilus was impatient till he had gone to the palace of Cressida;\r\nbut when he found her doors all closed, \u201cwell nigh for sorrow\r\nadown he gan to fall.\u201d\r\n\r\nTherewith, when he was ware, and gan behold\r\nHow shut was ev\u2019ry window of the place,\r\nAs frost him thought his hearte *gan to cold;*      *began to grow cold*\r\nFor which, with changed deadly pale face,\r\nWithoute word, he forth began to pace;\r\nAnd, as God would, he gan so faste ride,\r\nThat no wight of his countenance espied.\r\n\r\nThen said he thus: \u201cO palace desolate!\r\nO house of houses, *whilom beste hight!*          *formerly called best*\r\nO palace empty and disconsolate!\r\nO thou lantern, of which quench\u2019d is the light!\r\nO palace, whilom day, that now art night!\r\nWell oughtest thou to fall, and I to die,\r\nSince she is gone that wont was us to guy!*                 *guide, rule\r\n\r\n\u201cO palace, whilom crown of houses all,\r\nIllumined with sun of alle bliss!\r\nO ring, from which the ruby is out fall!\r\nO cause of woe, that cause hast been of bliss!\r\nYet, since I may no bet, fain would I kiss\r\nThy colde doores, durst I for this rout;\r\nAnd farewell shrine, of which the saint is out!\u201d\r\n\r\n.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .\r\n\r\nFrom thence forth he rideth up and down,\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry thing came him to remembrance,\r\nAs he rode by the places of the town,\r\nIn which he whilom had all his pleasance;\r\n\u201cLo! yonder saw I mine own lady dance;\r\nAnd in that temple, with her eyen clear,\r\nMe caughte first my righte lady dear.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd yonder have I heard full lustily\r\nMy deare hearte laugh; and yonder play:\r\nSaw I her ones eke full blissfully;\r\nAnd yonder ones to me gan she say,\r\n\u2018Now, goode sweete! love me well, I pray;\u2019\r\nAnd yond so gladly gan she me behold,\r\nThat to the death my heart is to her hold.*               *holden, bound\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd at that corner, in the yonder house,\r\nHeard I mine allerlevest* lady dear,                     *dearest of all\r\nSo womanly, with voice melodious,\r\nSinge so well, so goodly and so clear,\r\nThat in my soule yet me thinks I hear\r\nThe blissful sound; and in that yonder place\r\nMy lady first me took unto her grace.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen he went to the gates, and gazed along the way by which\r\nhe had attended Cressida at her departure; then he fancied that\r\nall the passers-by pitied him; and thus he drove forth a day or\r\ntwo more, singing a song, of few words, which he had made to\r\nlighten his heart:\r\n\r\n\u201cO star, of which I lost have all the light,\r\nWith hearte sore well ought I to bewail,\r\nThat ever dark in torment, night by night,\r\nToward my death, with wind I steer and sail;\r\nFor which, the tenthe night, if that I fail*      *miss; be left without\r\nThe guiding of thy beames bright an hour,\r\nMy ship and me Charybdis will devour.\u201d\r\n\r\nBy night he prayed the moon to run fast about her sphere; by\r\nday he reproached the tardy sun \u2014 dreading that Phaethon had\r\ncome to life again, and was driving the chariot of Apollo out of\r\nits straight course. Meanwhile Cressida, among the Greeks, was\r\nbewailing the refusal of her father to let her return, the certainty\r\nthat her lover would think her false, and the hopelessness of any\r\nattempt to steal away by night. Her bright face waxed pale, her\r\nlimbs lean, as she stood all day looking toward Troy; thinking\r\non her love and all her past delights, regretting that she had not\r\nfollowed the counsel of Troilus to steal away with him, and\r\nfinally vowing that she would at all hazards return to the city.\r\nBut she was fated, ere two months, to be full far from any such\r\nintention; for Diomede now brought all his skill into play, to\r\nentice Cressida into his net. On the tenth day, Diomede, \u201cas\r\nfresh as branch in May,\u201d came to the tent of Cressida, feigning\r\nbusiness with Calchas.\r\n\r\nCresside, at shorte wordes for to tell,\r\nWelcomed him, and down by her him set,\r\nAnd he was *eath enough to make dwell;*       *easily persuaded to stay*\r\nAnd after this, withoute longe let,*                              *delay\r\nThe spices and the wine men forth him fet,*                     *fetched\r\nAnd forth they speak of this and that y-fere,*                 *together\r\nAs friendes do, of which some shall ye hear.\r\n\r\nHe gan first fallen of the war in speech\r\nBetween them and the folk of Troye town,\r\nAnd of the siege he gan eke her beseech\r\nTo tell him what was her opinioun;\r\nFrom that demand he so descended down\r\nTo aske her, if that her strange thought\r\nThe Greekes\u2019 guise,* and workes that they wrought.              *fashion\r\n\r\nAnd why her father tarried* so long                             *delayed\r\nTo wedde her unto some worthy wight.\r\nCressida, that was in her paines strong\r\nFor love of Troilus, her owen knight,\r\nSo farforth as she cunning* had or might,                       *ability\r\nAnswer\u2019d him then; but, as for his intent,*                     *purpose\r\nIt seemed not she wiste* what he meant.                            *knew\r\n\r\nBut natheless this ilke* Diomede                                   *same\r\nGan *in himself assure,* and thus he said;              *grow confident*\r\n\u201cIf I aright have *taken on you heed,*                    *observed you*\r\nMe thinketh thus, O lady mine Cresside,\r\nThat since I first hand on your bridle laid,\r\nWhen ye out came of Troye by the morrow,\r\nNe might I never see you but in sorrow.\r\n\r\n\u201cI cannot say what may the cause be,\r\nBut if for love of some Trojan it were;\r\n*The which right sore would a-thinke me*            *which it would much\r\nThat ye for any wight that dwelleth there              pain me to think*\r\nShould [ever] spill* a quarter of a tear,                          *shed\r\nOr piteously yourselfe so beguile;*                             *deceive\r\nFor dreadeless* it is not worth the while.                  *undoubtedly\r\n\r\n\u201cThe folk of Troy, as who saith, all and some\r\nIn prison be, as ye yourselfe see;\r\nFrom thence shall not one alive come\r\nFor all the gold betwixte sun and sea;\r\nTruste this well, and understande me;\r\nThere shall not one to mercy go alive,\r\nAll* were he lord of worldes twice five.                       *although\r\n\r\n.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat will ye more, lovesome lady dear?\r\nLet Troy and Trojan from your hearte pace;\r\nDrive out that bitter hope, and make good cheer,\r\nAnd call again the beauty of your face,\r\nThat ye with salte teares so deface;\r\nFor Troy is brought into such jeopardy,\r\nThat it to save is now no remedy.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd thinke well, ye shall in Greekes find\r\nA love more perfect, ere that it be night,\r\nThan any Trojan is, and more kind,\r\nAnd better you to serve will do his might;\r\nAnd, if ye vouchesafe, my lady bright,\r\nI will be he, to serve you, myselve, \u2014\r\nYea, lever* than be a lord of Greekes twelve!\u201d                   *rather\r\n\r\nAnd with that word he gan to waxe red,\r\nAnd in his speech a little while he quoke,*            *quaked; trembled\r\nAnd cast aside a little with his head,\r\nAnd stint a while; and afterward he woke,\r\nAnd soberly on her he threw his look,\r\nAnd said, \u201cI am, albeit to you no joy,\r\nAs gentle* man as any wight in Troy.                          *high-born\r\n\r\n\u201cBut, hearte mine! since that I am your man,*         *leigeman, subject\r\nAnd [you] be the first of whom I seeke grace,                  (in love)\r\nTo serve you as heartily as I can,\r\nAnd ever shall, while I to live have space,\r\nSo, ere that I depart out of this place,\r\nYe will me grante that I may, to-morrow,\r\nAt better leisure, telle you my sorrow.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhy should I tell his wordes that he said?\r\nHe spake enough for one day at the mest;*                          *most\r\nIt proveth well he spake so, that Cresseide\r\nGranted upon the morrow, at his request,\r\nFarther to speake with him, at the least,\r\nSo that he would not speak of such mattere;\r\nAnd thus she said to him, as ye may hear:\r\n\r\nAs she that had her heart on Troilus\r\nSo faste set, that none might it arace;*                    *uproot <83>\r\nAnd strangely* she spake, and saide thus;       *distantly, unfriendlily\r\n\u201cO Diomede! I love that ilke place\r\nWhere I was born; and Jovis, for his grace,\r\nDeliver it soon of all that doth it care!*                      *afflict\r\nGod, for thy might, so *leave it* well to fare!\u201d              *grant it*\r\n\r\nShe knows that the Greeks would fain wreak their wrath on\r\nTroy, if they might; but that shall never befall: she knows that\r\nthere are Greeks of high condition \u2014 though as worthy men\r\nwould be found in Troy: and she knows that Diomede could\r\nserve his lady well.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut, as to speak of love, y-wis,\u201d she said,\r\n\u201cI had a lord, to whom I wedded was, <84>\r\nHe whose mine heart was all, until he died;\r\nAnd other love, as help me now Pallas,\r\nThere in my heart nor is, nor ever was;\r\nAnd that ye be of noble and high kindred,\r\nI have well heard it tellen, out of dread.*                       *doubt\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd that doth* me to have so great a wonder                    *causeth\r\nThat ye will scornen any woman so;\r\nEke, God wot, love and I be far asunder;\r\nI am disposed bet, so may I go,*                        *fare or prosper\r\nUnto my death to plain and make woe;\r\nWhat I shall after do I cannot say,\r\nBut truely as yet *me list not play.*                 *I am not disposed\r\n                                                              *for sport\r\n\u201cMine heart is now in tribulatioun;\r\nAnd ye in armes busy be by day;\r\nHereafter, when ye wonnen have the town,\r\nParauntre* then, so as it happen may,                      *peradventure\r\nThat when I see that I never *ere sey,*                     *saw before*\r\nThen will I work that I never ere wrought;\r\nThis word to you enough sufficen ought.\r\n\r\n\u201cTo-morrow eke will I speak with you fain,*                   *willingly\r\nSo that ye touche naught of this mattere;\r\nAnd when you list, ye may come here again,\r\nAnd ere ye go, thus much I say you here:\r\nAs help me Pallas, with her haires clear,\r\nIf that I should of any Greek have ruth,\r\nIt shoulde be yourselfe, by my truth!\r\n\r\n\u201cI say not therefore that I will you love;\r\n*Nor say not nay;* but, in conclusioun,                  *nor say I that\r\nI meane well, by God that sits above!\u201d                       I will not*\r\nAnd therewithal she cast her eyen down,\r\nAnd gan to sigh, and said; \u201cO Troye town!\r\nYet bid* I God, in quiet and in rest                               *pray\r\nI may you see, or *do my hearte brest!\u201d*       *cause my heart to break*\r\n\r\nBut in effect, and shortly for to say,\r\nThis Diomede all freshly new again\r\nGan pressen on, and fast her mercy pray;\r\nAnd after this, the soothe for to sayn,\r\nHer glove he took, of which he was full fain,\r\nAnd finally, when it was waxen eve,\r\nAnd all was well, he rose and took his leave.\r\n\r\nCressida retired to rest:\r\n\r\nReturning in her soul ay up and down\r\nThe wordes of this sudden Diomede,<85>\r\nHis great estate,* the peril of the town,                          *rank\r\nAnd that she was alone, and hadde need\r\nOf friendes\u2019 help; and thus began to dread\r\nThe causes why, the soothe for to tell,\r\nThat she took fully the purpose for to dwell.*         *remain (with the\r\n                                                                 Greeks)\r\nThe morrow came, and, ghostly* for to speak,                    *plainly\r\nThis Diomede is come unto Cresseide;\r\nAnd shortly, lest that ye my tale break,\r\nSo well he for himselfe spake and said,\r\nThat all her sighes sore adown he laid;\r\nAnd finally, the soothe for to sayn,\r\nHe refte* her the great** of all her pain.      *took away **the greater\r\n                                                                 part of\r\nAnd after this, the story telleth us\r\nThat she him gave the faire baye steed\r\nThe which she ones won of Troilus;\r\nAnd eke a brooch (and that was little need)\r\nThat Troilus\u2019 was, she gave this Diomede;\r\nAnd eke, the bet from sorrow him to relieve,\r\nShe made him wear a pensel* of her sleeve.                 *pendant <86>\r\n\r\nI find eke in the story elleswhere,\r\nWhen through the body hurt was Diomede\r\nBy Troilus, she wept many a tear,\r\nWhen that she saw his wide woundes bleed,\r\nAnd that she took to keepe* him good heed,               *tend, care for\r\nAnd, for to heal him of his sorrow\u2019s smart,\r\nMen say, I n\u2019ot,* that she gave him her heart.                 *know not\r\n\r\nAnd yet, when pity had thus completed the triumph of\r\ninconstancy, she made bitter moan over her falseness to one of\r\nthe noblest and worthiest men that ever was; but it was now too\r\nlate to repent, and at all events she resolved that she would be\r\ntrue to Diomede \u2014 all the while weeping for pity of the absent\r\nTroilus, to whom she wished every happiness. The tenth day,\r\nmeantime, had barely dawned, when Troilus, accompanied by\r\nPandarus, took his stand on the walls, to watch for the return of\r\nCressida. Till noon they stood, thinking that every corner from\r\nafar was she; then Troilus said that doubtless her old father bore\r\nthe parting ill, and had detained her till after dinner; so they\r\nwent to dine, and returned to their vain observation on the\r\nwalls. Troilus invented all kinds of explanations for his\r\nmistress\u2019s delay; now, her father would not let her go till eve;\r\nnow, she would ride quietly into the town after nightfall, not to\r\nbe observed; now, he must have mistaken the day. For five or\r\nsix days he watched, still in vain, and with decreasing hope.\r\nGradually his strength decayed, until he could walk only with a\r\nstaff; answering the wondering inquiries of his friends, by saying\r\nthat he had a grievous malady about his heart. One day he\r\ndreamed that in a forest he saw Cressida in the embrace of a\r\nboar; and he had no longer doubt of her falsehood. Pandarus,\r\nhowever, explained away the dream to mean merely that\r\nCressida was detained by her father, who might be at the point\r\nof death; and he counselled the disconsolate lover to write a\r\nletter, by which he might perhaps get at the truth. Troilus\r\ncomplied, entreating from his mistress, at the least, a \u201cletter of\r\nhope;\u201d and the lady answered, that she could not come now, but\r\nwould so soon as she might; at the same time \u201cmaking him great\r\nfeast,\u201d and swearing that she loved him best \u2014 \u201cof which he\r\nfound but bottomless behest [which he found but groundless\r\npromises].\u201d Day by day increased the woe of Troilus; he laid\r\nhimself in bed, neither eating, nor drinking, nor sleeping, nor\r\nspeaking, almost distracted by the thought of Cressida\u2019s\r\nunkindness. He related his dream to his sister Cassandra, who\r\ntold him that the boar betokened Diomede, and that,\r\nwheresoever his lady was, Diornede certainly had her heart, and\r\nshe was his: \u201cweep if thou wilt, or leave, for, out of doubt, this\r\nDiomede is in, and thou art out.\u201d Troilus, enraged, refused to\r\nbelieve Cassandra\u2019s interpretation; as well, he cried, might such\r\na story be credited of Alcestis, who devoted her life for her\r\nhusband; and in his wrath he started from bed, \u201cas though all\r\nwhole had him y-made a leach [physician],\u201d resolving to find\r\nout the truth at all hazards. The death of Hector meanwhile\r\nenhanced the sorrow which he endured; but he found time to\r\nwrite often to Cressida, beseeching her to come again and hold\r\nher truth; till one day his false mistress, out of pity, wrote him\r\nagain, in these terms:\r\n\r\n\u201cCupide\u2019s son, ensample of goodlihead,*              *beauty, excellence\r\nO sword of knighthood, source of gentleness!\r\nHow might a wight in torment and in dread,\r\nAnd healeless,* you send as yet gladness?              *devoid of health\r\nI hearteless, I sick, I in distress?\r\nSince ye with me, nor I with you, may deal,\r\nYou neither send I may nor heart nor heal.\r\n\r\n\u201cYour letters full, the paper all y-plainted,*             *covered with\r\nCommoved have mine heart\u2019s pitt;                            complainings\r\nI have eke seen with teares all depainted\r\nYour letter, and how ye require me\r\nTo come again; the which yet may not be;\r\nBut why, lest that this letter founden were,\r\nNo mention I make now for fear.\r\n\r\n\u201cGrievous to me, God wot, is your unrest,\r\nYour haste,* and that the goddes\u2019 ordinance                  *impatience\r\nIt seemeth not ye take as for the best;\r\nNor other thing is in your remembrance,\r\nAs thinketh me, but only your pleasance;\r\nBut be not wroth, and that I you beseech,\r\nFor that I tarry is *all for wicked speech.*         *to avoid malicious\r\n                                                                 gossip*\r\n\u201cFor I have heard well more than I wend*                *weened, thought\r\nTouching us two, how thinges have stood,\r\nWhich I shall with dissimuling amend;\r\nAnd, be not wroth, I have eke understood\r\nHow ye ne do but holde me on hand; <87>\r\nBut now *no force,* I cannot in you guess                    *no matter*\r\nBut alle truth and alle gentleness.\r\n\r\n\u201cComen I will, but yet in such disjoint*             *jeopardy, critical\r\nI stande now, that what year or what day                        position\r\nThat this shall be, that can I not appoint;\r\nBut in effect I pray you, as I may,\r\nFor your good word and for your friendship ay;\r\nFor truely, while that my life may dure,\r\nAs for a friend, ye may *in me assure.*                   *depend on me*\r\n\r\n\u201cYet pray I you, *on evil ye not take*              *do not take it ill*\r\nThat it is short, which that I to you write;\r\nI dare not, where I am, well letters make;\r\nNor never yet ne could I well endite;\r\nEke *great effect men write in place lite;*      *men write great matter\r\nTh\u2019 intent is all, and not the letter\u2019s space;          in little space*\r\nAnd fare now well, God have you in his grace!\r\n                           \u201cLa Vostre C.\u201d\r\n\r\nThough he found this letter \u201call strange,\u201d and thought it like \u201ca\r\nkalendes of change,\u201d <88> Troilus could not believe his lady so\r\ncruel as to forsake him; but he was put out of all doubt, one day\r\nthat, as he stood in suspicion and melancholy, he saw a \u201ccoat-\r\narmour\u201d borne along the street, in token of victory, before\r\nDeiphobus his brother. Deiphobus had won it from Diomede in\r\nbattle that day; and Troilus, examining it out of curiosity, found\r\nwithin the collar a brooch which he had given to Cressida on the\r\nmorning she left Troy, and which she had pledged her faith to\r\nkeep for ever in remembrance of his sorrow and of him. At this\r\nfatal discovery of his lady\u2019s untruth,\r\n\r\nGreat was the sorrow and plaint of Troilus;\r\nBut forth her course Fortune ay gan to hold;\r\nCressida lov\u2019d the son of Tydeus,\r\nAnd Troilus must weep in cares cold.\r\nSuch is the world, whoso it can behold!\r\nIn each estate is little hearte\u2019s rest;\r\nGod lend* us each to take it for the best!                        *grant\r\n\r\nIn many a cruel battle Troilus wrought havoc among the\r\nGreeks, and often he exchanged blows and bitter words with\r\nDiomede, whom he always specially sought; but it was not their\r\nlot that either should fall by the other\u2019s hand. The poet\u2019s\r\npurpose, however, he tells us, is to relate, not the warlike deeds\r\nof Troilus, which Dares has fully told, but his love-fortunes:\r\n\r\nBeseeching ev\u2019ry lady bright of hue,\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry gentle woman, *what she be,*               *whatsoever she be*\r\nAlbeit that Cressida was untrue,\r\nThat for that guilt ye be not wroth with me;\r\nYe may her guilt in other bookes see;\r\nAnd gladder I would writen, if you lest,\r\nOf Penelope\u2019s truth, and good Alceste.\r\n\r\nNor say I not this only all for men,\r\nBut most for women that betrayed be\r\nThrough false folk (God give them sorrow, Amen!)\r\nThat with their greate wit and subtilty\r\nBetraye you; and this commoveth me\r\nTo speak; and in effect you all I pray,\r\nBeware of men, and hearken what I say.\r\n\r\nGo, little book, go, little tragedy!\r\nThere God my maker, yet ere that I die,\r\nSo send me might to make some comedy!\r\nBut, little book, *no making thou envy,*  *be envious of no poetry* <89>\r\nBut subject be unto all poesy;\r\nAnd kiss the steps, where as thou seest space,\r\nOf Virgil, Ovid, Homer, Lucan, Stace.\r\n\r\nAnd, for there is so great diversity\r\nIn English, and in writing of our tongue,\r\nSo pray I God, that none miswrite thee,\r\nNor thee mismetre for default of tongue!\r\nAnd read whereso thou be, or elles sung,\r\nThat thou be understanden, God I \u2019seech!*                       *beseech\r\nBut yet to purpose of my *rather speech.*         *earlier subject* <90>\r\n\r\nThe wrath, as I began you for to say,\r\nOf Troilus the Greekes boughte dear;\r\nFor thousandes his handes *made dey,*                      *made to die*\r\nAs he that was withouten any peer,\r\nSave in his time Hector, as I can hear;\r\nBut, well-away! save only Godde\u2019s will,\r\nDispiteously him slew the fierce Achill\u2019.\r\n\r\nAnd when that he was slain in this mannere,\r\nHis lighte ghost* full blissfully is went                        *spirit\r\nUp to the hollowness of the seventh sphere <91>\r\nIn converse leaving ev\u2019ry element;\r\nAnd there he saw, with full advisement,*     *observation, understanding\r\nTh\u2019 erratic starres heark\u2019ning harmony,\r\nWith soundes full of heav\u2019nly melody.\r\n\r\nAnd down from thennes fast he gan advise*             *consider, look on\r\nThis little spot of earth, that with the sea\r\nEmbraced is; and fully gan despise\r\nThis wretched world, and held all vanity,\r\n*To respect of the plein felicity*                   *in comparison with\r\nThat is in heav\u2019n above; and, at the last,            the full felicity*\r\nWhere he was slain his looking down he cast.\r\n\r\nAnd in himself he laugh\u2019d right at the woe\r\nOf them that wepte for his death so fast;\r\nAnd damned* all our works, that follow so                     *condemned\r\nThe blinde lust, the which that may not last,\r\nAnd shoulden* all our heart on heaven cast;             *while we should\r\nAnd forth he wente, shortly for to tell,\r\nWhere as Mercury sorted* him to dwell.                    *allotted <92>\r\n\r\nSuch fine* hath, lo! this Troilus for love!                         *end\r\nSuch fine hath all his *greate worthiness!*         *exalted royal rank*\r\nSuch fine hath his estate royal above!\r\nSuch fine his lust,* such fine hath his nobless!               *pleasure\r\nSuch fine hath false worlde\u2019s brittleness!*     *fickleness, instability\r\nAnd thus began his loving of Cresside,\r\nAs I have told; and in this wise he died.\r\n\r\nO young and freshe folke, *he or she,*                   *of either sex*\r\nIn which that love upgroweth with your age,\r\nRepaire home from worldly vanity,\r\nAnd *of your heart upcaste the visage*         *\u201clift up the countenance\r\nTo thilke God, that after his image                     of your heart.\u201d*\r\nYou made, and think that all is but a fair,\r\nThis world that passeth soon, as flowers fair!\r\n\r\nAnd love Him, the which that, right for love,\r\nUpon a cross, our soules for to bey,*                       *buy, redeem\r\nFirst starf,* and rose, and sits in heav\u2019n above;                  *died\r\nFor he will false* no wight, dare I say,                  *deceive, fail\r\nThat will his heart all wholly on him lay;\r\nAnd since he best to love is, and most meek,\r\nWhat needeth feigned loves for to seek?\r\n\r\nLo! here of paynims* cursed olde rites!                          *pagans\r\nLo! here what all their goddes may avail!\r\nLo! here this wretched worlde\u2019s appetites!               *end and reward\r\nLo! here the *fine and guerdon for travail,*                  of labour*\r\nOf Jove, Apollo, Mars, and such rascaille*                  *rabble <93>\r\nLo! here the form of olde clerkes\u2019 speech,\r\nIn poetry, if ye their bookes seech!*                      *seek, search\r\n\r\nL\u2019Envoy of Chaucer.\r\n\r\nO moral Gower! <94> this book I direct.\r\nTo thee, and to the philosophical Strode, <95>\r\nTo vouchesafe, where need is, to correct,\r\nOf your benignities and zeales good.\r\nAnd to that soothfast Christ that *starf on rood*    *died on the cross*\r\nWith all my heart, of mercy ever I pray,\r\nAnd to the Lord right thus I speak and say:\r\n\r\n\u201cThou One, and Two, and Three, *etern on live,*       *eternally living*\r\nThat reignest ay in Three, and Two, and One,\r\nUncircumscrib\u2019d, and all may\u2019st circumscrive,*               *comprehend\r\nFrom visible and invisible fone*                                   *foes\r\nDefend us in thy mercy ev\u2019ry one;\r\nSo make us, Jesus, *for thy mercy dign,*           *worthy of thy mercy*\r\nFor love of Maid and Mother thine benign!\u201d\r\n\r\nExplicit Liber Troili et Cresseidis. <96>\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Troilus and Cressida\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The double sorrow: First his suffering before his love was\r\nsuccessful; and then his grief after his lady had been separated\r\nfrom him, and had proved unfaithful.\r\n\r\n2. Tisiphone: one of the Eumenides, or Furies, who avenged on\r\nmen in the next world the crimes committed on earth. Chaucer\r\nmakes this grim invocation most fitly, since the Trojans were\r\nunder the curse of the Eumenides, for their part in the offence\r\nof Paris in carrying off Helen, the wife of his host Menelaus,\r\nand thus impiously sinning against the laws of hospitality.\r\n\r\n3. See Chaucer\u2019s description of himself in \u201cThe House Of\r\nFame,\u201d and note 11 to that poem.\r\n\r\n4. The Palladium, or image of Pallas (daughter of Triton and\r\nfoster-sister of Athena), was said to have fallen from heaven at\r\nTroy, where Ilus was just beginning to found the city; and Ilus\r\nerected a sanctuary, in which it was preserved with great\r\nhonour and care, since on its safety was supposed to depend the\r\nsafety of the city. In later times a Palladium was any statue of\r\nthe goddess Athena kept for the safeguard of the city that\r\npossessed it.\r\n\r\n5. \u201cOh, very god!\u201d: oh true divinity! \u2014 addressing Cressida.\r\n\r\n6. Ascaunce: as if to say \u2014 as much as to say. The word\r\nrepresents \u201cQuasi dicesse\u201d in Boccaccio. See note 5 to the\r\nSompnour\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n7. Eft: another reading is \u201coft.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Arten: constrain \u2014 Latin, \u201carceo.\u201d\r\n\r\n9. The song is a translation of Petrarch\u2019s 88th Sonnet, which\r\nopens thus:\r\n\u201cS\u2019amor non e, che dunque e quel ch\u2019i\u2019sento.\u201d\r\n\r\n10. If maugre me: If (I burn) in spite of myself. The usual\r\nreading is, \u201cIf harm agree me\u201d = if my hurt contents me: but\r\nevidently the antithesis is lost which Petrarch intended when,\r\nafter \u201cs\u2019a mia voglia ardo,\u201d he wrote \u201cs\u2019a mal mio grado\u201d = if\r\nagainst my will; and Urry\u2019s Glossary points out the probability\r\nthat in transcription the words \u201cIf that maugre me\u201d may have\r\ngradually changed into \u201cIf harm agre me.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. The Third of May seems either to have possessed peculiar\r\nfavour or significance with Chaucer personally, or to have had a\r\nspecial importance in connection with those May observances\r\nof which the poet so often speaks. It is on the third night of\r\nMay that Palamon, in The Knight\u2019s Tale, breaks out of prison,\r\nand at early morn encounters in the forest Arcita, who has gone\r\nforth to pluck a garland in honour of May; it is on the third\r\nnight of May that the poet hears the debate of \u201cThe Cuckoo and\r\nthe Nightingale\u201d; and again in the present passage the favoured\r\ndate recurs.\r\n\r\n12. Went: turning; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cwendan;\u201d German,\r\n\u201cwenden.\u201d The turning and tossing of uneasy lovers in bed is,\r\nwith Chaucer, a favourite symptom of their passion. See the\r\nfifth \u201cstatute,\u201d in The Court of Love.\r\n\r\n13. Procne, daughter of Pandion, king of Attica, was given to\r\nwife to Tereus in reward for his aid against an enemy; but\r\nTereus dishonoured Philomela, Procne\u2019s sister; and his wife, in\r\nrevenge, served up to him the body of his own child by her.\r\nTereus, infuriated, pursued the two sisters, who prayed the\r\ngods to change them into birds. The prayer was granted;\r\nPhilomela became a nightingale, Procne a swallow, and Tereus\r\na hawk.\r\n\r\n14. Fished fair: a proverbial phrase which probably may be best\r\nrepresented by the phrase \u201cdone great execution.\u201d\r\n\r\n15. The fair gem virtueless:  possessing none of the virtues\r\nwhich in the Middle Ages were universally believed to be\r\ninherent in precious stones.\r\n\r\n16. The crop and root: the most perfect example. See note 29\r\nto the Knight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n17. Eme: uncle; the mother\u2019s brother; still used in Lancashire.\r\nAnglo-Saxon, \u201ceame;\u201d German, \u201cOheim.\u201d\r\n\r\n18. Dardanus: the mythical ancestor of the Trojans, after whom\r\nthe gate is supposed to be called.\r\n\r\n19. All the other gates were secured with chains, for better\r\ndefence against the besiegers.\r\n\r\n20. Happy day:  good fortune; French, \u201cbonheur;\u201d both \u201chappy\r\nday\u201d and \u201chappy hour\u201d are borrowed from the astrological\r\nfiction about the influence of the time of birth.\r\n\r\n21. Horn, and nerve, and rind: The various layers or materials\r\nof the shield \u2014 called boagrion in the Iliad \u2014 which was made\r\nfrom the hide of the wild bull.\r\n\r\n22. His brother:  Hector.\r\n\r\n23. Who gives me drink?: Who has given me a love-potion, to\r\ncharm my heart thus away?\r\n\r\n24. That plaited she full oft in many a fold: She deliberated\r\ncarefully, with many arguments this way and that.\r\n\r\n25. Through which I mighte stand in worse plight: in a worse\r\nposition in the city; since she might through his anger lose the\r\nprotection of his brother Hector.\r\n\r\n26. I am not religious: I am not in holy vows. See the complaint\r\nof the nuns in \u201cThe Court of Love.\u201d\r\n\r\n27. The line recalls Milton\u2019s \u201cdark with excessive bright.\u201d\r\n\r\n28. No weal is worth, that may no sorrow drien: the meaning is,\r\nthat whosoever cannot endure sorrow deserves not happiness.\r\n\r\n29. French, \u201cverre;\u201d glass.\r\n\r\n30. From cast of stones ware him in the werre: let him beware\r\nof casting stones in battle. The proverb in its modern form\r\nwarns those who live in glass houses of the folly of throwing\r\nstones.\r\n\r\n31. Westren:  to west or wester \u2014 to decline towards the west;\r\nso Milton speaks of the morning star as sloping towards\r\nheaven\u2019s descent \u201chis westering wheel.\u201d\r\n\r\n32. A pike with ass\u2019s feet etc.: this is merely another version of\r\nthe well-known example of incongruity that opens the \u201cArs\r\nPoetica\u201d of Horace.\r\n\r\n33. Tristre: tryst; a preconcerted spot to which the beaters\r\ndrove the game, and at which the sportsmen waited with their\r\nbows.\r\n\r\n34. A kankerdort: a condition or fit of perplexed anxiety;\r\nprobably connected with the word \u201ckink\u201d meaning in sea phrase\r\na twist in an rope \u2014 and, as a verb, to twist or entangle.\r\n\r\n35. They feel in times, with vapour etern: they feel in their\r\nseasons, by the emission of an eternal breath or inspiration (that\r\nGod loves, &c.)\r\n\r\n36. The idea of this stanza is the same with that developed in\r\nthe speech of Theseus at the close of The Knight\u2019s Tale; and it is\r\nprobably derived from the lines of Boethius, quoted in note 91\r\nto that Tale.\r\n\r\n37. In this and the following lines reappears the noble doctrine\r\nof the exalting and purifying influence of true love, advanced in\r\n\u201cThe Court of Love,\u201d \u201cThe Cuckoo and the Nightingale,\u201d &c.\r\n\r\n38. Weir: a trap or enclosed place in a stream, for catching fish.\r\nSee note 10 to The Assembly of Fowls.\r\n\r\n39. Nor might one word for shame to it say: nor could he\r\nanswer one word for shame (at the stratagem that brought\r\nCressida to implore his protection)\r\n\r\n40. \u201cAll n\u2019ere he malapert, nor made avow\r\nNor was so bold to sing a foole\u2019s mass;\u201d\r\ni.e. although he was not over-forward and made no confession\r\n(of his love), or was so bold as to be rash and ill-advised in his\r\ndeclarations of love and worship.\r\n\r\n41. Pandarus wept as if he would turn to water; so, in The\r\nSquire\u2019s Tale, did Canace weep for the woes of the falcon.\r\n\r\n42. If I breake your defence: if I transgress in whatever you may\r\nforbid; French, \u201cdefendre,\u201d to prohibit.\r\n\r\n43. These lines and the succeeding stanza are addressed to\r\nPandarus, who had interposed some words of incitement to\r\nCressida.\r\n\r\n44.  In \u201cThe Court of Love,\u201d the poet says of Avaunter, that\r\n\u201chis ancestry of kin was to Lier; and the stanza in which that\r\nline occurs  expresses precisely the same idea as in the text.\r\nVain boasters  of ladies\u2019 favours are also satirised in \u201cThe House\r\nof Fame\u201d.\r\n\r\n45. Nice:  silly, stupid; French, \u201cniais.\u201d\r\n\r\n46.\u201dReheating\u201d is read by preference for \u201crichesse,\u201d which\r\nstands in the older printed editions; though \u201crichesse\u201d certainly\r\nbetter represents the word used in the original of Boccaccio \u2014\r\n\u201cdovizia,\u201d meaning abundance or wealth.\r\n\r\n47. \u201cDepart it so, for widewhere is wist\r\nHow that there is diversity requer\u2019d\r\nBetwixte thinges like, as I have lear\u2019d:\u201d\r\ni.e. make this distinction, for it is universally known that there is\r\na great difference between things that seem the same, as I have\r\nlearned.\r\n\r\n48. Frepe: the set, or company; French, \u201cfrappe,\u201d a stamp (on\r\ncoins), a set (of moulds).\r\n\r\n49. To be \u201cin the wind\u201d of noisy magpies, or other birds that\r\nmight spoil sport by alarming the game, was not less desirable\r\nthan to be on the \u201clee-side\u201d of the game itself, that the hunter\u2019s\r\npresence might not be betrayed by the scent. \u201cIn the wind of,\u201d\r\nthus signifies not to windward of, but to leeward of \u2014 that is, in\r\nthe wind that comes from the object of pursuit.\r\n\r\n50. Bothe fremd and tame: both foes and friends \u2014 literally,\r\nboth wild and tame, the sporting metaphor being sustained.\r\n\r\n51. The lovers are supposed to say, that nothing is wanting but\r\nto know the time at which they should meet.\r\n\r\n52. A  tale of Wade: see note 5 to the Merchant\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n53. Saturn, and Jove, in Cancer joined were: a conjunction that\r\nimported rain.\r\n\r\n54. Smoky rain: An admirably graphic description of dense rain.\r\n\r\n55. For the force of \u201ccold,\u201d see note 22 to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n56. Goddes seven:  The divinities who gave their names to the\r\nseven planets, which, in association with the seven metals, are\r\nmentioned in The Canon\u2019s Yeoman\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n57. Assayed:  experienced, tasted. See note 6 to the Squire\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n58. Now is it better than both two were lorn: better this happy\r\nissue, than that both two should be lost (through the sorrow of\r\nfruitless love).\r\n\r\n59. Made him such feast: French, \u201clui fit fete\u201d \u2014 made holiday\r\nfor him.\r\n\r\n60. The cock is called, in \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls,\u201d \u201cthe\r\nhorologe of thorpes lite;\u201d [the clock of little villages] and in The\r\nNun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale Chanticleer knew by nature each ascension\r\nof the equinoctial, and, when the sun had ascended fifteen\r\ndegrees, \u201cthen crew he, that it might not be amended.\u201d Here he\r\nis termed the \u201ccommon astrologer,\u201d as employing for the public\r\nadvantage his knowledge of astronomy.\r\n\r\n61. Fortuna Major: the planet Jupiter.\r\n\r\n62. When Jupiter visited Alcmena in the form of her husband\r\nAmphitryon, he is said to have prolonged the night to the length\r\nof three natural nights. Hercules was the fruit of the union.\r\n\r\n63. Chaucer seems to confound Titan, the title of the sun, with\r\nTithonus (or Tithon, as contracted in poetry), whose couch\r\nAurora was wont to share.\r\n\r\n64. So, in \u201cLocksley Hall,\u201d Tennyson says that \u201ca sorrow\u2019s\r\ncrown of sorrow is rememb\u2019ring better things.\u201d The original is in\r\nDante\u2019s words:- -\r\n\u201cNessun maggior dolore\r\nChe ricordarsi del tempo felice\r\nNella miseria.\u201d \u2014 \u201cInferno,\u201d v. 121.\r\n(\u201cThere is no greater sorrow than to remember happy times\r\nwhen in misery\u201d)\r\n\r\n65. As great a craft is to keep weal as win: it needs as much\r\nskill to keep prosperity as to attain it.\r\n\r\n66. To heap: together. See the reference to Boethius in note 91\r\nto the Knight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n67. The smalle beastes let he go beside: a charming touch,\r\nindicative of the noble and generous inspiration of his love.\r\n\r\n68. Mew: the cage or chamber in which hawks were kept and\r\ncarefully tended during the moulting season.\r\n\r\n69. Love of steel:  love as true as steel.\r\n\r\n70. Pandarus, as it repeatedly appears, was an unsucsessful\r\nlover.\r\n\r\n71. \u201cEach for his virtue holden is full dear,\r\nBoth heroner, and falcon for rivere\u201d:\u2014\r\nThat is, each is esteemed for a special virtue or faculty, as the\r\nlarge gerfalcon for the chase of heron, the smaller goshawk for\r\nthe chase of river fowl.\r\n\r\n72. Zausis: An author of whom no record survives.\r\n\r\n73. And upon new case lieth new advice:  new counsels must be\r\nadopted as new circumstances arise.\r\n\r\n74. Hid in mew: hidden in a place remote from the world \u2014 of\r\nwhich Pandarus thus betrays ignorance.\r\n\r\n75. The modern phrase \u201csixes and sevens,\u201d means \u201cin\r\nconfusion:\u201d but here the idea of gaming perhaps suits the sense\r\nbetter \u2014 \u201cset the world upon a cast of the dice.\u201d\r\n\r\n76. The controversy between those who maintained the doctrine\r\nof predestination and those who held that of free-will raged\r\nwith no less animation at Chaucer\u2019s day, and before it, than it\r\nhas done in the subsequent five centuries; the Dominicans\r\nupholding the sterner creed, the Franciscans taking the other\r\nside. Chaucer has more briefly, and with the same care not to\r\ncommit himself, referred to the discussion in The Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n77. That have their top full high and smooth y-shore: that are\r\neminent among the clergy, who wear the tonsure.\r\n\r\n78. Athamante: Athamas, son of Aeolus; who, seized with\r\nmadness, under the wrath of Juno for his neglect of his wife\r\nNephele, slew his son Learchus.\r\n\r\n79. Simois:  one of the rivers of the Troad, flowing into the\r\nXanthus.\r\n\r\n80. Troilus was the son of Priam and Hecuba.\r\n\r\n81. The son of Tydeus:  Diomedes; far oftener called Tydides,\r\nafter his father Tydeus, king of Argos.\r\n\r\n82. Couthe more than the creed:  knew more than the mere\r\nelements (of the science of Love).\r\n\r\n83. Arache: wrench away, unroot (French, \u201carracher\u201d); the\r\nopposite of \u201cenrace,\u201d to root in, implant.\r\n\r\n84. It will be remembered that, at the beginning of the first\r\nbook, Cressida is introduced to us as a widow.\r\n\r\n85. Diomede is called \u201csudden,\u201d for the unexpectedness of his\r\nassault on Cressida\u2019s heart \u2014 or, perhaps, for the abrupt\r\nabandonment of his indifference to love.\r\n\r\n86. Penscel:  a pennon or pendant; French, \u201cpenoncel.\u201d It  was\r\nthe custom in chivalric times for a knight to wear, on days of\r\ntournament or in battle, some such token of his lady\u2019s favour, or\r\nbadge of his service to her.\r\n\r\n87. She has been told that Troilus is deceiving her.\r\n\r\n88. The Roman kalends were the first day of the month, when a\r\nchange of weather was usually expected.\r\n\r\n89. Maker, and making, words used in the Middle Ages to\r\nsignify the composer and the composition of poetry, correspond\r\nexactly with the Greek \u201cpoietes\u201d and \u201cpoiema,\u201d from \u201cpoieo,\u201d I\r\nmake.\r\n\r\n90. My rather speech:  my earlier, former subject; \u201crather\u201d is the\r\ncormparative of the old adjective \u201crath,\u201d early.\r\n\r\n91. Up to the hollowness of the seventh sphere: passing up\r\nthrough the hollowness or concavity of the spheres, which all\r\nrevolve round each other and are all contained by God (see note\r\n5 to the Assembly of Fowls), the soul of Troilus, looking\r\ndownward, beholds the converse or convex side of the spheres\r\nwhich it has traversed.\r\n\r\n92. Sorted: allotted; from Latin, \u201csors,\u201d lot, fortune.\r\n\r\n93. Rascaille: rabble; French, \u201cracaille\u201d \u2014 a mob or multitude,\r\nthe riff-raff; so Spencer speaks of the \u201crascal routs\u201d of inferior\r\ncombatants.\r\n\r\n94. John Gower, the poet, a contemporary and friend of\r\nChaucer\u2019s; author, among other works, of the \u201cConfessio\r\nAmantis.\u201d See note 1 to the Man of Law\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n95. Strode was an eminent scholar of Merton College, Oxford,\r\nand tutor to Chaucer\u2019s son Lewis.\r\n\r\n96. Explicit Liber Troili et Cresseidis: \u201cThe end of the book of\r\nTroilus and Cressida.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAUCER\u2019S DREAM.\r\n\r\n\r\n[This pretty allegory, or rather conceit, containing one or two\r\npassages that for vividness and for delicacy yield to nothing in\r\nthe whole range of Chaucer\u2019s poetry, had never been printed\r\nbefore the year 1597, when it was included in the edition of\r\nSpeght. Before that date, indeed, a Dream of Chaucer had been\r\nprinted; but the poem so described was in reality \u201cThe Book of\r\nthe Duchess; or the Death of Blanche, Duchess of Lancaster\u201d \u2014\r\nwhich is not included in the present edition. Speght says that\r\n\u201cThis Dream, devised by Chaucer, seemeth to be a covert report\r\nof the marriage of John of Gaunt, the King\u2019s son, with Blanche,\r\nthe daughter of Henry, Duke of Lancaster; who after long love\r\n(during the time whereof the poet feigneth them to be dead)\r\nwere in the end, by consent of friends, happily married; figured\r\nby a bird bringing in his bill an herb, which restored them to life\r\nagain. Here also is showed Chaucer\u2019s match with a certain\r\ngentlewoman, who, although she was a stranger, was,\r\nnotwithstanding, so well liked and loved of the Lady Blanche\r\nand her Lord, as Chaucer himself also was, that gladly they\r\nconcluded a marriage between them.\u201d John of Gaunt, at the age\r\nof nineteen, and while yet Earl of Richmond, was married to the\r\nLady Blanche at Reading in May 1359; Chaucer, then a prisoner\r\nin France, probably did not return to England till peace was\r\nconcluded in the following year; so that his marriage to Philippa\r\nRoet, the sister of the Duchess Blanche\u2019s favourite attendant\r\nKatharine Roet, could not have taken place till some time after\r\nthat of the Duke. In the poem, it is represented to have\r\nimmediately followed; but no consequence need be attached to\r\nthat statement. Enough that it followed at no great interval of\r\ntime; and that the intimate relations which Chaucer had already\r\nbegun to form with John of Gaunt, might well warrant him in\r\nwriting this poem on the occasion of the Duke\u2019s marriage, and\r\nin weaving his own love-fortunes with those of the principal\r\nfigures. In the necessary abridgement of the poem for the\r\npresent edition, the subsidiary branch of the allegory, relating to\r\nthe poet\u2019s own love affair, has been so far as possible separated\r\nfrom the main branch, which shadows forth the fortunes of John\r\nand Blanche. The poem, in full, contains, with an \u201cEnvoy\u201d\r\narbitrarily appended, 2233 lines; of which 510 are given here.]\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: modern scholars believe that Chaucer was\r\nnot the author of this poem)\r\n\r\nWHEN Flora, the queen of pleasance,\r\nHad wholly *achiev\u2019d the obeisance*                  *won the obedience*\r\nOf the fresh and the new season,\r\nThorough ev\u2019ry region;\r\nAnd with her mantle *whole covert*                      *wholly covered*\r\nWhat winter had *made discovert,* \u2014                          *stripped*\r\n\r\nOn a May night, the poet lay alone, thinking of his lady, and all\r\nher beauty; and, falling asleep, he dreamed that he was in an\r\nisland\r\n\r\nWhere wall, and gate, was all of glass,\r\nAnd so was closed round about,\r\nThat leaveless* none came in nor out;                *without permission\r\nUncouth and strange to behold;\r\nFor ev\u2019ry gate, of fine gold,\r\nA thousand fanes,* ay turning,                      *vanes, weathercocks\r\nEntuned* had, and birds singing                 *contrived so as to emit\r\nDiversely, on each fane a pair,                          a musical sound\r\nWith open mouth, against the air; <1>\r\nAnd *of a suit* were all the tow\u2019rs,                  *of the same plan*\r\nSubtilly *carven aft* flow\u2019rs                      *carved to represent*\r\nOf uncouth colours, *during ay,*                       *lasting forever*\r\nThat never be none seen in May,\r\nWith many a small turret high;\r\nBut man alive I could not sigh,*                                    *see\r\nNor creatures, save ladies play,*                 *disporting themselves\r\nWhich were such of their array,\r\nThat, as me thought, *of goodlihead*                    *for comeliness*\r\nThey passed all, and womanhead.\r\nFor to behold them dance and sing,\r\nIt seemed like none earthly thing;\r\n\r\nAnd all were of the same age, save one; who was advanced in\r\nyears, though no less gay in demeanour than the rest. While he\r\nstood admiring the richness and beauty of the place, and the\r\nfairness of the ladies, which had the notable gift of enduring\r\nunimpaired till death, the poet was accosted by the old lady, to\r\nwhom he had to yield himself prisoner; because the ordinance of\r\nthe isle was, that no man should dwell there; and the ladies\u2019 fear\r\nof breaking the law was enhanced by the temporary absence of\r\ntheir queen from the realm. Just at this moment the cry was\r\nraised that the queen came; all the ladies hastened to meet her;\r\nand soon the poet saw her approach \u2014 but in her company his\r\nmistress, wearing the same garb, and a seemly knight. All the\r\nladies wondered greatly at this; and the queen explained:\r\n\r\n\u201cMy sisters, how it hath befall,*                              *befallen\r\nI trow ye know it one and all,\r\nThat of long time here have I been\r\nWithin this isle biding as queen,\r\nLiving at ease, that never wight\r\nMore perfect joye have not might;\r\nAnd to you been of governance\r\nSuch as you found in whole pleasance, <2>\r\nIn every thing as ye know,\r\nAfter our custom and our law;\r\nWhich how they firste founded were,\r\nI trow ye wot all the mannere.\r\nAnd who the queen is of this isle, \u2014\r\nAs I have been this longe while, \u2014\r\nEach seven years must, of usage,\r\nVisit the heav\u2019nly hermitage,\r\nWhich on a rock so highe stands,\r\nIn a strange sea, out from all lands,\r\nThat for to make the pilgrimage\r\nIs call\u2019d a perilous voyage;\r\nFor if the wind be not good friend,\r\nThe journey dureth to the end\r\nOf him which that it undertakes;\r\nOf twenty thousand not one scapes.\r\nUpon which rock groweth a tree,\r\nThat certain years bears apples three;\r\nWhich three apples whoso may have,\r\nIs *from all displeasance y-save*                   *safe from all pain*\r\nThat in the seven years may fall;\r\nThis wot you well, both one and all.\r\nFor the first apple and the hext,*                          *highest <3>\r\nWhich groweth unto you the next,\r\nHath three virtues notable,\r\nAnd keepeth youth ay durable,\r\nBeauty, and looks, ever-in-one,*                            *continually\r\nAnd is the best of ev\u2019ry one.\r\nThe second apple, red and green,\r\nOnly with lookes of your eyne,\r\nYou nourishes in great pleasance,\r\nBetter than partridge or fesaunce,*                            *pheasant\r\nAnd feedeth ev\u2019ry living wight\r\nPleasantly, only with the sight.\r\nAnd the third apple of the three,\r\nWhich groweth lowest on the tree,\r\nWhoso it beareth may not fail*                     *miss, fail to obtain\r\nThat* to his pleasance may avail.                            *that which\r\nSo your pleasure and beauty rich,\r\nYour during youth ever y-lich,*                                   *alike\r\nYour truth, your cunning,* and your weal,                     *knowledge\r\nHath flower\u2019d ay, and your good heal,\r\nWithout sickness or displeasance,\r\nOr thing that to you was noyance.*                      *offence, injury\r\nSo that you have as goddesses\r\nLived above all princesses.\r\nNow is befall\u2019n, as ye may see;\r\nTo gather these said apples three,\r\nI have not fail\u2019d, against the day,\r\nThitherward to take the way,\r\n*Weening to speed* as I had oft.                  *expecting to succeed*\r\nBut when I came, I found aloft\r\nMy sister, which that hero stands,\r\nHaving those apples in her hands,\r\nAdvising* them, and nothing said,                  *regarding, gazing on\r\nBut look\u2019d as she were *well apaid:*                         *satisfied*\r\nAnd as I stood her to behold,\r\nThinking how my joys were cold,\r\nSince I these apples *have not might,*                  *might not have*\r\nEven with that so came this knight,\r\nAnd in his arms, of me unware,\r\nMe took, and to his ship me bare,\r\nAnd said, though him I ne\u2019er had seen,\r\nYet had I long his lady been;\r\nWherefore I shoulde with him wend,\r\nAnd he would, to his life\u2019s end,\r\nMy servant be; and gan to sing,\r\nAs one that had won a rich thing.\r\nThen were my spirits from me gone,\r\nSo suddenly every one,\r\nThat in me appear\u2019d but death,\r\nFor I felt neither life nor breath,\r\nNor good nor harme none I knew,\r\nThe sudden pain me was so new,\r\nThat *had not the hasty grace be*               *had it not been for the\r\nOf this lady, that from the tree                        prompt kindness*\r\nOf her gentleness so bled,*                                    *hastened\r\nMe to comforten, I had died;\r\nAnd of her three apples she one\r\nInto mine hand there put anon,\r\nWhich brought again my mind and breath,\r\nAnd me recover\u2019d from the death.\r\nWherefore to her so am I hold,*                       *beholden, obliged\r\nThat for her all things do I wo\u2019ld,\r\nFor she was leach* of all my smart,                           *physician\r\nAnd from great pain so quit* my heart.                        *delivered\r\nAnd as God wot, right as ye hear,\r\nMe to comfort with friendly cheer,\r\nShe did her prowess and her might.\r\nAnd truly eke so did this knight,\r\nIn that he could; and often said,\r\nThat of my woe he was *ill paid,*              *distressed, ill-pleased*\r\nAnd curs\u2019d the ship that him there brought,\r\nThe mast, the master that it wrought.\r\nAnd, as each thing must have an end,\r\nMy sister here, our bother friend, <4>\r\nGan with her words so womanly\r\nThis knight entreat, and cunningly,\r\nFor mine honour and hers also,\r\nAnd said that with her we should go\r\nBoth in her ship, where she was brought,\r\nWhich was so wonderfully wrought,\r\nSo clean, so rich, and so array\u2019d,\r\nThat we were both content and paid;*                          *satisfied\r\nAnd me to comfort and to please,\r\nAnd my heart for to put at ease,\r\nShe took great pain in little while,\r\nAnd thus hath brought us to this isle\r\nAs ye may see; wherefore each one\r\nI pray you thank her one and one,\r\nAs heartily as ye can devise,\r\nOr imagine in any wise.\u201d\r\n\r\nAt once there then men mighte see\u2019n,\r\nA world of ladies fall on kneen\r\nBefore my lady, \u2014\r\n\r\nThanking her, and placing themselves at her commandment.\r\nThen the queen sent the aged lady to the knight, to learn of him\r\nwhy he had done her all this woe; and when the messenger had\r\ndischarged her mission, telling the knight that in the general\r\nopinion he had done amiss, he fell down suddenly as if dead for\r\nsorrow and repentance. Only with great difficulty, by the queen\r\nherself, was he restored to consciousness and comfort; but\r\nthough she spoke kind and hope-inspiring words, her heart was\r\nnot in her speech,\r\n\r\nFor her intent was, to his barge\r\nHim for to bring against the eve,\r\nWith certain ladies, and take leave,\r\nAnd pray him, of his gentleness,\r\nTo *suffer her* thenceforth in peace,                    *let her dwell*\r\nAs other princes had before;\r\nAnd from thenceforth, for evermore,\r\nShe would him worship in all wise\r\nThat gentlenesse might devise;\r\nAnd *pain her* wholly to fulfil,               *make her utmost efforts*\r\nIn honour, his pleasure and will.\r\n\r\nAnd during thus this knighte\u2019s woe, \u2014\r\nPresent* the queen and other mo\u2019,                *(there being) present*\r\nMy lady and many another wight, \u2014\r\nTen thousand shippes at a sight\r\nI saw come o\u2019er the wavy flood,\r\nWith sail and oar; that, as I stood\r\nThem to behold, I gan marvail\r\nFrom whom might come so many a sail;\r\nFor, since the time that I was born,\r\nSuch a navy therebeforn\r\nHad I not seen, nor so array\u2019d,\r\nThat for the sight my hearte play\u2019d\r\nAy to and fro within my breast;\r\nFor joy long was ere it would rest.\r\nFor there were sailes *full of flow\u2019rs;*      *embroidered with flowers*\r\nAfter, castles with huge tow\u2019rs, <5>\r\nSeeming full of armes bright,\r\nThat wond\u2019rous lusty* was the sight;                           *pleasant\r\nWith large tops, and mastes long,\r\nRichly depaint\u2019 and *rear\u2019d among.*                  *raised among them*\r\nAt certain times gan repair\r\nSmalle birdes down from the air,\r\nAnd on the shippes\u2019 bounds* about                              *bulwarks\r\nSat and sang, with voice full out,\r\nBallads and lays right joyously,\r\nAs they could in their harmony.\r\n\r\nThe ladies were alarmed and sorrow-stricken at sight of the\r\nships, thinking that the knight\u2019s companions were on board; and\r\nthey went towards the walls of the isle, to shut the gates. But it\r\nwas Cupid who came; and he had already landed, and marched\r\nstraight to the place where the knight lay. Then he chid the\r\nqueen for her unkindness to his servant; shot an arrow into her\r\nheart; and passed through the crowd, until he found the poet\u2019s\r\nlady, whom he saluted and complimented, urging her to have\r\npity on him that loved her. While the poet, standing apart, was\r\nrevolving all this in his mind, and resolving truly to serve his\r\nlady, he saw the queen advance to Cupid, with a petition in\r\nwhich she besought forgiveness of past offences, and promised\r\ncontinual and zealous service till her death. Cupid smiled, and\r\nsaid that he would be king within that island, his new conquest;\r\nthen, after long conference with the queen, he called a council\r\nfor the morrow, of all who chose to wear his colours. In the\r\nmorning, such was the press of ladies, that scarcely could\r\nstanding-room be found in all the plain. Cupid presided; and one\r\nof his counsellors addressed the mighty crowd, promising that\r\nere his departure his lord should bring to an agreement all the\r\nparties there present. Then Cupid gave to the knight and the\r\ndreamer each his lady; promised his favour to all the others in\r\nthat place who would truly and busily serve in love; and at\r\nevening took his departure. Next morning, having declined the\r\nproffered sovereignty of the island, the poet\u2019s mistress also\r\nembarked, leaving him behind; but he dashed through the\r\nwaves, was drawn on board her ship from peril of death, and\r\ngraciously received into his lady\u2019s lasting favour. Here the poet\r\nawakes, finding his cheeks and body all wet with tears; and,\r\nremoving into another chamber, to rest more in peace, he falls\r\nasleep anew, and continues the dream. Again he is within the\r\nisland, where the knight and all the ladies are assembled on a\r\ngreen, and it is resolved by the assembly, not only that the\r\nknight shall be their king, but that every lady there shall be\r\nwedded also. It is determined that the knight shall depart that\r\nvery day, and return, within ten days, with such a host of\r\nBenedicts, that none in the isle need lack husbands. The knight\r\n\r\nAnon into a little barge\r\nBrought was, late against an eve,\r\nWhere of all he took his leave.\r\nWhich barge was, as a man thought,\r\nAft* his pleasure to him brought;                         *according to*\r\nThe queen herself accustom\u2019d ay\r\nIn the same barge to play.*                              *take her sport\r\nIt needed neither mast nor rother*                               *rudder\r\n(I have not heard of such another),\r\nNor master for the governance;*                                *steering\r\nIt sailed by thought and pleasance,\r\nWithoute labour, east and west;\r\nAll was one, calm or tempest. <6>\r\nAnd I went with, at his request,\r\nAnd was the first pray\u2019d to the feast.*                *the bridal feast\r\nWhen he came unto his country,\r\nAnd passed had the wavy sea,\r\nIn a haven deep and large\r\nHe left his rich and noble barge,\r\nAnd to the court, shortly to tell,\r\nHe went, where he was wont to dwell, \u2014\r\n\r\nAnd was gladly received as king by the estates of the land; for\r\nduring his absence his father, \u201cold, and wise, and hoar,\u201d had\r\ndied, commending to their fidelity his absent son. The prince\r\nrelated to the estates his journey, and his success in finding the\r\nprincess in quest of whom he had gone seven years before; and\r\nsaid that he must have sixty thousand guests at his marriage\r\nfeast. The lords gladly guaranteed the number within the set\r\ntime; but afterwards they found that fifteen days must be spent\r\nin the necessary preparations. Between shame and sorrow, the\r\nprince, thus compelled to break his faith, took to his bed, and,\r\nin wailing and self-reproach,\r\n\r\n\u2014 Endur\u2019d the days fifteen,\r\nTill that the lords, on an evene,*                              *evening\r\nHim came and told they ready were,\r\nAnd showed in few wordes there,\r\nHow and what wise they had *purvey\u2019d                  *provided suitably\r\nFor his estate,* and to him said,                           to his rank*\r\nThat twenty thousand knights of name,\r\nAnd forty thousand without blame,\r\nAlle come of noble ligne*                                 *line, lineage\r\nTogether in a company\r\nWere lodged on a river\u2019s side,\r\nHim and his pleasure there t\u2019abide.\r\nThe prince then for joy uprose,\r\nAnd, where they lodged were, he goes,\r\nWithoute more, that same night,\r\nAnd there his supper *made to dight;*                     *had prepared*\r\nAnd with them bode* till it was day.                     *abode, waited*\r\nAnd forthwith to take his journey,\r\nLeaving the strait, holding the large,\r\nTill he came to his noble barge:\r\nAnd when the prince, this lusty knight,\r\nWith his people in armes bright,\r\nWas come where he thought to pass,*                   *cross to the isle\r\nAnd knew well none abiding was\r\nBehind, but all were there present,\r\nForthwith anon all his intent\r\nHe told them there, and made his cries*                    *proclamation\r\nThorough his hoste that day twice,\r\nCommanding ev\u2019ry living wight\r\nThere being present in his sight,\r\nTo be the morrow on the rivage,*                                  *shore\r\nThere he begin would his voyage.\r\n\r\nThe morrow come, the *cry was kept*            *proclamation was obeyed*\r\nBut few were there that night that slept,\r\nBut *truss\u2019d and purvey\u2019d* for the morrow;      *packed up and provided*\r\nFor fault* of ships was all their sorrow;                *lack, shortage\r\nFor, save the barge, and other two,\r\nOf shippes there I saw no mo\u2019.\r\nThus in their doubtes as they stood,\r\nWaxing the sea, coming the flood,\r\nWas cried \u201cTo ship go ev\u2019ry wight!\u201d\r\nThen was but *hie that hie him might,*       *whoever could hasten, did*\r\nAnd to the barge, me thought, each one\r\nThey went, without was left not one,\r\nHorse, nor male*, truss, nor baggage,                     *trunk, wallet\r\nSalad*, spear, gardebrace,** nor page,        *helmet<7> **arm-shield<8>\r\nBut was lodged and room enough;\r\nAt which shipping me thought I lough,*                          *laughed\r\nAnd gan to marvel in my thought,\r\nHow ever such a ship was wrought.*                          *constructed\r\nFor *what people that can increase,*     *however the numbers increased*\r\nNor ne\u2019er so thick might be the prease,*                   *press, crowd\r\nBut alle hadde room at will;\r\nThere was not one was lodged ill.\r\nFor, as I trow, myself the last\r\nWas one, and lodged by the mast;\r\nAnd where I look\u2019d I saw such room\r\nAs all were lodged in a town.\r\nForth went the ship, said was the creed;<9>\r\nAnd on their knees, *for their good speed,*        *to pray for success*\r\nDown kneeled ev\u2019ry wight a while,\r\nAnd prayed fast that to the isle\r\nThey mighte come in safety,\r\nThe prince and all the company.\r\nWith worship and withoute blame,\r\nOr disclander* of his name,                           *reproach, slander\r\nOf the promise he should return\r\nWithin the time he did sojourn\r\nIn his lande biding* his host;                              *waiting for\r\nThis was their prayer least and most:\r\nTo keep the day it might not be\u2019n,\r\nThat he appointed with the queen.\r\n\r\nWherefore the prince slept neither day nor night, till he and his\r\npeople landed on the glass-walled isle, \u201cweening to be in heav\u2019n\r\nthat night.\u201d But ere they had gone a little way, they met a lady\r\nall in black, with piteous countenance, who reproached the\r\nprince for his untruth, and informed him that, unable to bear the\r\nreproach to their name, caused by the lightness of their trust in\r\nstrangers, the queen and all the ladies of the isle had vowed\r\nneither to eat, nor drink, nor sleep, nor speak, nor cease\r\nweeping till all were dead. The queen had died the first; and half\r\nof the other ladies had already \u201cunder the earth ta\u2019en lodging\r\nnew.\u201d The woeful recorder of all these woes invites the prince\r\nto behold the queen\u2019s hearse:\r\n\r\n\u201cCome within, come see her hearse\r\nWhere ye shall see the piteous sight\r\nThat ever yet was shown to knight;\r\nFor ye shall see ladies stand,\r\nEach with a greate rod in hand,\r\nClad in black, with visage white,\r\nReady each other for to smite,\r\nIf any be that will not weep;\r\nOr who makes countenance to sleep.\r\nThey be so beat, that all so blue\r\nThey be as cloth that dy\u2019d is new.\u201d\r\n\r\nScarcely has the lady ceased to speak, when the prince plucks\r\nforth a dagger, plunges it into his heart, and, drawing but one\r\nbreath, expires.\r\n\r\nFor whiche cause the lusty host,\r\nWhich [stood] in battle on the coast,\r\nAt once for sorrow such a cry\r\nGan rear, thorough* the company,                             *throughout\r\nThat to the heav\u2019n heard was the soun\u2019,\r\nAnd under th\u2019earth as far adown,\r\nAnd wilde beastes for the fear\r\nSo suddenly affrayed* were,                                      *afraid\r\nThat for the doubt, while they might dure,*     *have a chance of safety\r\nThey ran as of their lives unsure,\r\nFrom the woodes into the plain,\r\nAnd from valleys the high mountain\r\nThey sought, and ran as beastes blind,\r\nThat clean forgotten had their kind.*                            *nature\r\n\r\nThe lords of the laggard host ask the woebegone lady what\r\nshould be done; she answers that nothing can now avail, but\r\nthat for remembrance they should build in their land, open to\r\npublic view, \u201cin some notable old city,\u201d a chapel engraved with\r\nsome memorial of the queen. And straightway, with a sigh, she\r\nalso \u201cpass\u2019d her breath.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen said the lordes of the host,\r\nAnd so concluded least and most,\r\nThat they would ay in houses of thack*                           *thatch\r\nTheir lives lead, <10> and wear but black,\r\nAnd forsake all their pleasances,\r\nAnd turn all joy to penances;\r\nAnd bare the dead prince to the barge,\r\nAnd named *them should* have the charge;              *those who should*\r\nAnd to the hearse where lay the queen\r\nThe remnant went, and down on kneen,\r\nHolding their hands on high, gan cry,\r\n\u201cMercy! mercy!\u201d *evereach thry;*                       *each one thrice*\r\nAnd curs\u2019d the time that ever sloth\r\nShould have such masterdom of troth.\r\nAnd to the barge, a longe mile,\r\nThey bare her forth; and, in a while,\r\nAll the ladies, one and one,\r\nBy companies were brought each one.\r\nAnd pass\u2019d the sea, and took the land,\r\nAnd in new hearses, on a sand,\r\nPut and brought were all anon,\r\nUnto a city clos\u2019d with stone,\r\nWhere it had been used ay\r\nThe kinges of the land to lay,\r\nAfter they reigned in honours;\r\nAnd writ was which were conquerours;\r\nIn an abbey of nunnes black,\r\nWhich accustom\u2019d were to wake,\r\nAnd of usage rise each a-night,\r\nTo pray for ev\u2019ry living wight.\r\nAnd so befell, as is the guise,\r\nOrdain\u2019d and said was the service\r\nOf the prince and eke of the queen,\r\nSo devoutly as mighte be\u2019n;\r\nAnd, after that, about the hearses,\r\nMany orisons and verses,\r\nWithoute note* <11> full softely                                  *music\r\nSaid were, and that full heartily;\r\nThat all the night, till it was day,\r\nThe people in the church gan pray\r\nUnto the Holy Trinity,\r\nOf those soules to have pity.\r\n\r\nAnd when the nighte past and run\r\nWas, and the newe day begun, \u2014\r\nThe young morrow with rayes red,\r\nWhich from the sun all o\u2019er gan spread,\r\nAttemper\u2019d* cleare was and fair,                          *clement, calm\r\nAnd made a time of wholesome air, \u2014\r\nBefell a wondrous case* and strange                       *chance, event\r\nAmong the people, and gan change\r\nSoon the word, and ev\u2019ry woe\r\nUnto a joy, and some to two.\r\n\r\nA bird, all feather\u2019d blue and green,\r\nWith brighte rays like gold between,\r\nAs small thread over ev\u2019ry joint,\r\nAll full of colour strange and coint,*                           *quaint\r\nUncouth* and wonderful to sight,                             *unfamiliar\r\nUpon the queene\u2019s hearse gan light,\r\nAnd sung full low and softely\r\nThree songes in their harmony,\r\n*Unletted of* every wight;                               *unhindered by*\r\nTill at the last an aged knight,\r\nWhich seem\u2019d a man in greate thought,\r\nLike as he set all thing at nought,\r\nWith visage and eyes all forwept,*                     *steeped in tears\r\nAnd pale, as a man long unslept,\r\nBy the hearses as he stood,\r\nWith hasty handling of his hood\r\nUnto a prince that by him past,\r\nMade the bird somewhat aghast.*                              *frightened\r\nWherefore he rose and left his song,\r\nAnd departed from us among,\r\nAnd spread his winges for to pass\r\nBy the place where he enter\u2019d was.\r\nAnd in his haste, shortly to tell,\r\nHim hurt, that backward down he fell,\r\nFrom a window richly paint,\r\nWith lives of many a divers saint,\r\nAnd beat his winges and bled fast,\r\nAnd of the hurt thus died and past;\r\nAnd lay there well an hour and more\r\nTill, at the last, of birds a score\r\nCame and assembled at the place\r\nWhere the window broken was,\r\nAnd made such waimentatioun,*                               *lamentation\r\nThat pity was to hear the soun\u2019,\r\nAnd the warbles of their throats,\r\nAnd the complaint of their notes,\r\nWhich from joy clean was reversed.\r\nAnd of them one the glass soon pierced,\r\nAnd in his beak, of colours nine,\r\nAn herb he brought, flow\u2019rless, all green,\r\nFull of smalle leaves, and plain,*                               *smooth\r\nSwart,* and long, with many a vein.                               *black\r\nAnd where his fellow lay thus dead,\r\nThis herb he down laid by his head,\r\nAnd dressed* it full softely,                                  *arranged\r\nAnd hung his head, and stood thereby.\r\nWhich herb, in less than half an hour,\r\nGan over all knit,* and after flow\u2019r                                *bud\r\nFull out; and waxed ripe the seed;\r\nAnd, right as one another feed\r\nWould, in his beak he took the grain,\r\nAnd in his fellow\u2019s beak certain\r\nIt put, and thus within the third*             *i.e. third hour after it\r\nUpstood and pruned him the bird,                                had died\r\nWhich dead had been in all our sight;\r\nAnd both together forth their flight\r\nTook, singing, from us, and their leave;\r\nWas none disturb them would nor grieve.\r\nAnd, when they parted were and gone,\r\nTh\u2019 abbess the seedes soon each one\r\nGathered had, and in her hand\r\nThe herb she took, well avisand*                       *considering <12>\r\nThe leaf, the seed, the stalk, the flow\u2019r,\r\nAnd said it had a good savour,\r\nAnd was no common herb to find,\r\nAnd well approv\u2019d of *uncouth kind,*                    *strange nature*\r\nAnd more than other virtuous;\r\nWhoso might it have for to use\r\nIn his need, flower, leaf, or grain,\r\nOf his heal might be certain.\r\n[She] laid it down upon the hearse\r\nWhere lay the queen; and gan rehearse\r\nEach one to other what they had seen.\r\nAnd, *taling thus,* the seed wax\u2019d green,             *as they gossiped*\r\nAnd on the dry hearse gan to spring, \u2014\r\nWhich me thought was a wondrous thing, \u2014\r\nAnd, after that, flow\u2019r and new seed;\r\nOf which the people all took heed,\r\nAnd said it was some great miracle,\r\nOr medicine fine more than treacle;  <12>\r\nAnd were well done there to assay\r\nIf it might ease, in any way,\r\nThe corpses, which with torchelight\r\nThey waked had there all that night.\r\nSoon did the lordes there consent,\r\nAnd all the people thereto content,\r\nWith easy words and little fare;*                          *ado, trouble\r\nAnd made the queene\u2019s visage bare,\r\nWhich showed was to all about,\r\nWherefore in swoon fell all the rout,*                   *company, crowd\r\nAnd were so sorry, most and least,\r\nThat long of weeping they not ceas\u2019d;\r\nFor of their lord the remembrance\r\nUnto them was such displeasance.*                        *cause of grief\r\nThat for to live they called pain,\r\nSo were they very true and plain.\r\nAnd after this the good abbess\r\nOf the grains gan choose and dress*                             *prepare\r\nThree, with her fingers clean and smale,*                         *small\r\nAnd in the queenes mouth, by tale,\r\nOne after other, full easily\r\nShe put, and eke full cunningly.*                             *skilfully\r\nWhich showed some such virtue.\r\nThat proved was the medicine true.\r\nFor with a smiling countenance\r\nThe queen uprose, and of usance*                                 *custom\r\nAs she was wont, to ev\u2019ry wight\r\nShe *made good cheer;* for whiche sight               *showed a gracious\r\nThe people, kneeling on the stones,                         countenance*\r\nThought they in heav\u2019n were, soul and bones;\r\nAnd to the prince, where that he lay,\r\nThey went to make the same assay.*                    *trial, experiment\r\nAnd when the queen it understood,\r\nAnd how the medicine was good,\r\nShe pray\u2019d that she might have the grains,\r\nTo relieve him from the pains\r\nWhich she and he had both endur\u2019d.\r\nAnd to him went, and so him cur\u2019d,\r\nThat, within a little space,\r\nLusty and fresh alive he was,\r\nAnd in good heal, and whole of speech,\r\nAnd laugh\u2019d, and said, *\u201cGramercy, leach!\u201d*              *\u201cGreat thanks,\r\nFor which the joy throughout the town                    my physician!\u201d*\r\nSo great was, that the belles\u2019 soun\u2019\r\nAffray\u2019d the people a journey*                       *to the distance of\r\nAbout the city ev\u2019ry way;                               a day\u2019s journey*\r\nAnd came and ask\u2019d the cause, and why\r\nThey rungen were so stately.*                         *proudly, solemnly\r\nAnd after that the queen, th\u2019abbess,\r\nMade diligence, <14> ere they would cease,\r\nSuch, that of ladies soon a rout*                        *company, crowd\r\nSuing* the queen was all about;                               *following\r\nAnd, call\u2019d by name each one and told,*                        *numbered\r\nWas none forgotten, young nor old.\r\nThere mighte men see joyes new,\r\nWhen the medicine, fine and true,\r\nThus restor\u2019d had ev\u2019ry wight,\r\nSo well the queen as the knight,\r\nUnto perfect joy and heal,\r\nThat *floating they were in such weal*                 *swimming in such\r\nAs folk that woulden in no wise                               happiness*\r\nDesire more perfect paradise.\r\n\r\nOn the morrow a general assembly was convoked, and it was\r\nresolved that the wedding feast should be celebrated within the\r\nisland. Messengers were sent to strange realms, to invite kings,\r\nqueens, duchesses, and princesses; and a special embassy was\r\ndespatched, in the magic barge, to seek the poet\u2019s mistress \u2014\r\nwho was brought back after fourteen days, to the great joy of\r\nthe queen. Next day took place the wedding of the prince and\r\nall the knights to the queen and all the ladies; and a three\r\nmonths\u2019 feast followed, on a large plain \u201cunder a wood, in a\r\nchampaign, betwixt a river and a well, where never had abbey\r\nnor cell been, nor church, house, nor village, in time of any\r\nmanne\u2019s age.\u201d On the day after the general wedding, all\r\nentreated the poet\u2019s lady to consent to crown his love with\r\nmarriage; she yielded; the bridal was splendidly celebrated; and\r\nto the sound of marvellous music the poet awoke, to find\r\nneither lady nor creature \u2014 but only old portraitures on the\r\ntapestry, of horsemen, hawks, and hounds, and hurt deer full of\r\nwounds. Great was his grief that he had lost all the bliss of his\r\ndream; and he concludes by praying his lady so to accept his\r\nlove-service, that the dream may turn to reality.\r\n\r\nOr elles, without more I pray,\r\nThat this night, ere it be day,\r\nI may unto my dream return,\r\nAnd sleeping so forth ay sojourn\r\nAboute the Isle of Pleasance,\r\n*Under my lady\u2019s obeisance,*                        *subject to my lady*\r\nIn her service, and in such wise,\r\nAs it may please her to devise;\r\nAnd grace once to be accept\u2019,\r\nLike as I dreamed when I slept,\r\nAnd dure a thousand year and ten\r\nIn her good will: Amen, amen!\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Chaucer\u2019s Dream\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The birds on the weathervanes were set up facing the wind,\r\nso that it entered their open mouths, and by some mechanism\r\nproduced the musical sound.\r\n\r\n2. \u201cAnd to you been of governance\r\nSuch as you found in whole pleasance\u201d\r\nThat is, \u201cand have governed you in a manner which you have\r\nfound wholly pleasant.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. Hext: highest; from \u201chigh,\u201d as \u201cnext\u201d from \u201cnigh.\u201d Compare\r\nthe sounds of the German, \u201choechst,\u201d highest, and \u201cnaechst,\u201d\r\nnext.\r\n\r\n4. \u201cYour brother friend,\u201d is the common reading; but the phrase\r\nhas no apparent applicability; and perhaps the better reading is\r\n\u201cour bother friend\u201d \u2014 that is, the lady who has proved herself a\r\nfriend both to me and to you. In the same way, Reason, in\r\nTroilus\u2019 soliloquy on the impending loss of his mistress, is made,\r\naddressing Troilus and Cressida, to speaks of \u201cyour bother,\u201d or\r\n\u201cbothe,\u201d love.\r\n\r\n5. The ships had  high embattled poops and forecastles, as in\r\nmediaeval ships of war.\r\n\r\n6. Compare Spenser\u2019s account of Phaedria\u2019s barque, in \u201cThe\r\nFaerie Queen,\u201d canto vi. book ii.; and, mutatis mutandis,\r\nChaucer\u2019s description of the wondrous horse, in The Squire\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n7. Salad: a small helmet; french, \u201csalade.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Gardebrace: French, \u201cgarde-bras,\u201d an arm-shield; probably\r\nresembling the \u201cgay bracer\u201d which the Yeoman, in the Prologue\r\nto The Canterbury Tales, wears on his arm.\r\n\r\n9. Confession and prayer were the usual preliminaries of any\r\nenterprise in those superstitious days; and in these days of\r\nenlightenment the fashion yet lingers among the most\r\nsuperstitious class \u2014 the fisher-folk.\r\n\r\n10. The knights resolved that they would quit their castles and\r\nhouses of stone for humble huts.\r\n\r\n11. The knight and lady were buried without music, although\r\nthe office for the dead was generally sung.\r\n\r\n12. Avisand: considering; present participle from \u201cavise\u201d or\r\n\u201cadvise.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. Treacle; corrupted from Latin, \u201ctherisca,\u201d an antidote. The\r\nword is used for medicine in general.\r\n\r\n14. The abbess made diligence: i.e. to administer the grain to\r\nthe dead ladies.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE TO THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN.\r\n\r\n\r\n[SOME difference of opinion exists as to the date at\r\nwhich Chaucer wrote \u201cThe Legend of Good\r\nWomen.\u201d Those who would fix that date at a\r\nperiod not long before the poet\u2019s death \u2014 who\r\nwould place the poem, indeed, among his closing\r\nlabours \u2014 support their opinion by the fact that the\r\nPrologue recites most of Chaucer\u2019s principal\r\nworks, and glances, besides, at a long array of\r\nother productions, too many to be fully catalogued.\r\nBut, on the other hand, it is objected that the\r\n\u201cLegend\u201d makes no mention of \u201cThe Canterbury\r\nTales\u201d as such; while two of those Tales \u2014 the\r\nKnight\u2019s and the Second Nun\u2019s \u2014 are enumerated\r\nby the titles which they bore as separate\r\ncompositions, before they were incorporated in the\r\ngreat collection: \u201cThe Love of Palamon and\r\nArcite,\u201d and \u201cThe Life of Saint Cecile\u201d (see note 1\r\nto the Second Nun\u2019s tale). Tyrwhitt seems perfectly\r\njustified in placing the composition of the poem\r\nimmediately before that of Chaucer\u2019s magnum\r\nopus, and after the marriage of Richard II to his\r\nfirst queen, Anne of Bohemia. That event took\r\nplace in 1382; and since it is to Anne that the poet\r\nrefers when he makes Alcestis bid him give his\r\npoem to the queen \u201cat Eltham or at Sheen,\u201d the\r\n\u201cLegend\u201d could not have been written earlier. The\r\nold editions tell us that \u201cseveral ladies in the Court\r\ntook offence at Chaucer\u2019s large speeches against\r\nthe untruth of women; therefore the queen enjoin\u2019d\r\nhim to compile this book in the commendation of\r\nsundry maidens and wives, who show\u2019d themselves\r\nfaithful to faithless men. This seems to have been\r\nwritten after The Flower and the Leaf.\u201d Evidently it\r\nwas, for distinct references to that poem are to be\r\nfound in the Prologue; but more interesting is the\r\nindication which it furnishes, that \u201cTroilus and\r\nCressida\u201d was the work, not of the poet\u2019s youth,\r\nbut of his maturer age. We could hardly expect the\r\nqueen \u2014 whether of Love or of England \u2014 to\r\ndemand seriously from Chaucer a retractation of\r\nsentiments which he had expressed a full\r\ngeneration before, and for which he had made\r\natonement by the splendid praises of true love sung\r\nin \u201cThe Court of Love,\u201d \u201cThe Cuckoo and the\r\nNightingale,\u201d and other poems of youth and middle\r\nlife. But \u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d is coupled with\r\n\u201cThe Romance of the Rose,\u201d as one of the poems\r\nwhich had given offence to the servants and the\r\nGod of Love; therefore we may suppose it to have\r\nmore prominently engaged courtly notice at a later\r\nperiod of the poet\u2019s life, than even its undoubted\r\npopularity could explain. At whatever date, or in\r\nwhatever circumstances, undertaken, \u201cThe Legend\r\nof Good Women\u201d is a fragment. There are several\r\nsigns that it was designed to contain the stories of\r\ntwenty-five ladies, although the number of the\r\ngood women is in the poem itself set down at\r\nnineteen; but nine legends only were actually\r\ncomposed, or have come down to us. They are,\r\nthose of Cleopatra Queen of Egypt (126 lines),\r\nThisbe of Babylon (218), Dido Queen of Carthage\r\n(442), Hypsipyle and Medea (312), Lucrece of\r\nRome (206), Ariadne of Athens (340), Phiomela\r\n(167), Phyllis (168), and Hypermnestra (162).\r\nPrefixed to these stories, which are translated or\r\nimitated from Ovid, is a Prologue containing 579\r\nlines \u2014 the only part of the \u201cLegend\u201d given in the\r\npresent edition. It is by far the most original, the\r\nstrongest, and most pleasing part of the poem; the\r\ndescription of spring, and of his enjoyment of that\r\nseason, are in Chaucer\u2019s best manner; and the\r\npolitical philosophy by which Alcestis mitigates the\r\nwrath of Cupid, adds another to the abounding\r\nproofs that, for his knowledge of the world,\r\nChaucer fairly merits the epithet of \u201cmany-sided\u201d\r\nwhich Shakespeare has won by his knowledge of\r\nman.]\r\n\r\nA THOUSAND times I have hearde tell,\r\nThat there is joy in heav\u2019n, and pain in hell;\r\nAnd I accord* it well that it is so;                       *grant, agree\r\nBut, natheless, yet wot* I well also,                              *know\r\nThat there is none dwelling in this country\r\nThat either hath in heav\u2019n or hell y-be;*                          *been\r\nNor may of it no other wayes witten*                               *know\r\nBut as he hath heard said, or found it written;\r\nFor by assay* there may no man it preve.**              *practical trial\r\n                                                           **prove, test\r\nBut God forbid but that men should believe\r\nWell more thing than men have seen with eye!\r\nMen shall not weenen ev\u2019ry thing a lie\r\n*But if* himself it seeth, or else do\u2019th;                        *unless\r\nFor, God wot, thing is never the less sooth,*                      *true\r\nThough ev\u2019ry wighte may it not y-see.\r\nBernard, the Monke, saw not all, pardie! <1>\r\nThen muste we to bookes that we find\r\n(Through which that olde thinges be in mind),\r\nAnd to the doctrine of these olde wise,\r\nGive credence, in ev\u2019ry skilful* wise,                       *reasonable\r\nThat tellen of these old approved stories,\r\nOf holiness, of regnes,* of victories,                 *reigns, kingdoms\r\nOf love, of hate, and other sundry things\r\nOf which I may not make rehearsings;\r\nAnd if that olde bookes were away,\r\nY-lorn were of all remembrance the key.\r\nWell ought we, then, to honour and believe\r\nThese bookes, where we have none other preve.*                    *proof\r\n\r\nAnd as for me, though that I know but lite,*                     *little\r\nOn bookes for to read I me delight,\r\nAnd to them give I faith and good credence,\r\nAnd in my heart have them in reverence,\r\nSo heartily, that there is *game none* <2>                *no amusement*\r\nThat from my bookes maketh me to go\u2019n,\r\nBut it be seldom on the holyday;\r\nSave, certainly, when that the month of May\r\nIs comen, and I hear the fowles sing,\r\nAnd that the flowers ginnen for to spring,\r\nFarewell my book and my devotion!\r\n\r\nNow have I then such a condition,\r\nThat, above all the flowers in the mead,\r\nThen love I most these flowers white and red,\r\nSuch that men calle Day\u2019s-eyes in our town;\r\nTo them have I so great affectioun,\r\nAs I said erst, when comen is the May,\r\nThat in my bed there dawneth me no day\r\nThat I n\u2019am* up, and walking in the mead,                        *am not\r\nTo see this flow\u2019r against the sunne spread,\r\nWhen it upriseth early by the morrow;\r\nThat blissful sight softeneth all my sorrow,\r\nSo glad am I, when that I have presence\r\nOf it, to do it alle reverence,\r\nAs she that is of alle flowers flow\u2019r,\r\nFulfilled of all virtue and honour,\r\nAnd ever alike fair, and fresh of hue;\r\nAs well in winter, as in summer new,\r\nThis love I ever, and shall until I die;\r\nAll* swear I not, of this I will not lie,                      *although\r\nThere loved no wight hotter in his life.\r\nAnd when that it is eve, I runne blife,*               *quickly, eagerly\r\nAs soon as ever the sun begins to west,*               *decline westward\r\nTo see this flow\u2019r, how it will go to rest,\r\nFor fear of night, so hateth she darkness!\r\nHer cheer* is plainly spread in the brightness              *countenance\r\nOf the sunne, for there it will unclose.\r\nAlas! that I had English, rhyme or prose,\r\nSufficient this flow\u2019r to praise aright!\r\nBut help me, ye that have *cunning or might;*           *skill or power*\r\nYe lovers, that can make of sentiment,\r\nIn this case ought ye to be diligent\r\nTo further me somewhat in my labour,\r\nWhether ye be with the Leaf or the Flow\u2019r; <3>\r\nFor well I wot, that ye have herebefore\r\nOf making ropen,* and led away the corn; <4>                     *reaped\r\nAnd I come after, gleaning here and there,\r\nAnd am full glad if I may find an ear\r\nOf any goodly word that you have left.\r\nAnd though it hap me to rehearsen eft*                            *again\r\nWhat ye have in your freshe songes said,\r\nForbeare me, and be not *evil apaid,*                       *displeased*\r\nSince that ye see I do it in th\u2019honour\r\nOf love, and eke in service of the flow\u2019r\r\nWhom that I serve as I have wit or might. <5>\r\nShe is the clearness, and the very* light,                         *true\r\nThat in this darke world me winds* and leads;             *turns, guides\r\nThe heart within my sorrowful breast you dreads,\r\nAnd loves so sore, that ye be, verily,\r\nThe mistress of my wit, and nothing I.\r\nMy word, my works, are knit so in your bond,\r\nThat, as a harp obeyeth to the hand,\r\nThat makes it sound after his fingering,\r\nRight so may ye out of my hearte bring\r\nSuch voice, right as you list, to laugh or plain;*      *complain, mourn\r\nBe ye my guide, and lady sovereign.\r\nAs to mine earthly god, to you I call,\r\nBoth in this work, and in my sorrows all.\r\n\r\nBut wherefore that I spake to give credence\r\nTo old stories, and do them reverence,\r\nAnd that men muste more things believe\r\nThan they may see at eye, or elles preve,*                        *prove\r\nThat shall I say, when that I see my time;\r\nI may not all at ones speak in rhyme.\r\nMy busy ghost,* that thirsteth always new                        *spirit\r\nTo see this flow\u2019r so young, so fresh of hue,\r\nConstrained me with so greedy desire,\r\nThat in my heart I feele yet the fire,\r\nThat made me to rise ere it were day, \u2014\r\nAnd this was now the first morrow of May, \u2014\r\nWith dreadful heart, and glad devotion,\r\nFor to be at the resurrection\r\nOf this flower, when that it should unclose\r\nAgainst the sun, that rose as red as rose,\r\nThat in the breast was of the beast* that day      *the sign of the Bull\r\nThat Agenore\u2019s daughter led away. <6>\r\nAnd down on knees anon right I me set,\r\nAnd as I could this freshe flow\u2019r I gret,*                      *greeted\r\nKneeling alway, till it unclosed was,\r\nUpon the smalle, softe, sweete grass,\r\nThat was with flowers sweet embroider\u2019d all,\r\nOf such sweetness and such odour *o\u2019er all,*                *everywhere*\r\nThat, for to speak of gum, or herb, or tree,\r\nComparison may none y-maked be;\r\nFor it surmounteth plainly all odours,\r\nAnd for rich beauty the most gay of flow\u2019rs.\r\nForgotten had the earth his poor estate\r\nOf winter, that him naked made and mate,*            *dejected, lifeless\r\nAnd with his sword of cold so sore grieved;\r\nNow hath th\u2019attemper* sun all that releaved**     *temperate **furnished\r\nThat naked was, and clad it new again.                  anew with leaves\r\nThe smalle fowles, of the season fain,*                            *glad\r\nThat of the panter* and the net be scap\u2019d,                     *draw-net\r\nUpon the fowler, that them made awhap\u2019d*          *terrified, confounded\r\nIn winter, and destroyed had their brood,\r\nIn his despite them thought it did them good\r\nTo sing of him, and in their song despise\r\nThe foule churl, that, for his covetise,*                         *greed\r\nHad them betrayed with his sophistry*                        *deceptions\r\nThis was their song: \u201cThe fowler we defy,\r\nAnd all his craft:\u201d and some sunge clear\r\nLayes of love, that joy it was to hear,\r\nIn worshipping* and praising of their make;**          *honouring **mate\r\nAnd for the blissful newe summer\u2019s sake,\r\nUpon the branches full of blossoms soft,\r\nIn their delight they turned them full oft,\r\nAnd sunge, \u201cBlessed be Saint Valentine! <7>\r\nFor on his day I chose you to be mine,\r\nWithoute repenting, my hearte sweet.\u201d\r\nAnd therewithal their heals began to meet,\r\nYielding honour, and humble obeisances,\r\nTo love, and did their other observances\r\nThat longen unto Love and to Nature;\r\nConstrue that as you list, I *do no cure.*                *care nothing*\r\nAnd those that hadde *done unkindeness,*              *committed offence\r\nAs doth the tidife, <8> for newfangleness,         against natural laws*\r\nBesoughte mercy for their trespassing\r\nAnd humblely sange their repenting,\r\nAnd swore upon the blossoms to be true;\r\nSo that their mates would upon them rue,*                     *take pity\r\nAnd at the laste made their accord.*                     *reconciliation\r\nAll* found they Danger** for a time a lord,          *although **disdain\r\nYet Pity, through her stronge gentle might,\r\nForgave, and made mercy pass aright\r\nThrough Innocence, and ruled Courtesy.\r\nBut I ne call not innocence folly\r\nNor false pity, for virtue is the mean,\r\nAs Ethic <9> saith, in such manner I mean.\r\nAnd thus these fowles, void of all malice,\r\nAccorded unto Love, and lefte vice\r\nOf hate, and sangen all of one accord,\r\n\u201cWelcome, Summer, our governor and lord!\u201d\r\nAnd Zephyrus and Flora gentilly\r\nGave to the flowers, soft and tenderly,\r\nTheir sweete breath, and made them for to spread,\r\nAs god and goddess of the flow\u2019ry mead;\r\nIn which me thought I mighte, day by day,\r\nDwellen alway, the jolly month of May,\r\nWithoute sleep, withoute meat or drink.\r\nAdown full softly I began to sink,\r\nAnd, leaning on mine elbow and my side\r\nThe longe day I shope* to abide,                     *resolved, prepared\r\nFor nothing elles, and I shall not lie\r\nBut for to look upon the daisy;\r\nThat men by reason well it calle may\r\nThe Daye\u2019s-eye, or else the Eye of Day,\r\nThe empress and the flow\u2019r of flowers all\r\nI pray to God that faire may she fall!\r\nAnd all that love flowers, for her sake:\r\nBut, nathelesse, *ween not that I make*             *do not fancy that I\r\nIn praising of the Flow\u2019r against the Leaf,             write this poem*\r\nNo more than of the corn against the sheaf;\r\nFor as to me is lever none nor lother,\r\nI n\u2019am withholden yet with neither n\u2019other.<10>\r\n*Nor I n\u2019ot* who serves Leaf, nor who the Flow\u2019r;        *nor do I know*\r\nWell *brooke they* their service or labour!         *may they profit by*\r\nFor this thing is all of another tun, <11>\r\nOf old story, ere such thing was begun.\r\n\r\nWhen that the sun out of the south gan west,\r\nAnd that this flow\u2019r gan close, and go to rest,\r\nFor darkness of the night, the which she dread;*                *dreaded\r\nHome to my house full swiftly I me sped,\r\nTo go to rest, and early for to rise,\r\nTo see this flower spread, as I devise.*                       *describe\r\nAnd in a little arbour that I have,\r\nThat benched was of turfes fresh y-grave,* <12>                 *cut out\r\nI bade men shoulde me my couche make;\r\nFor dainty* of the newe summer\u2019s sake,                         *pleasure\r\nI bade them strowe flowers on my bed.\r\nWhen I was laid, and had mine eyen hid,\r\nI fell asleep; within an hour or two,\r\nMe mette* how I lay in the meadow tho,**                 *dreamed **then\r\nTo see this flow\u2019r that I love so and dread.\r\nAnd from afar came walking in the mead\r\nThe God of Love, and in his hand a queen;\r\nAnd she was clad in royal habit green;\r\nA fret* of gold she hadde next her hair,                           *band\r\nAnd upon that a white corown she bare,\r\nWith flowrons* small, and, as I shall not lie,             *florets <13>\r\nFor all the world right as a daisy\r\nY-crowned is, with white leaves lite,*                            *small\r\nSo were the flowrons of her crowne white.\r\nFor of one pearle, fine, oriential,\r\nHer white crowne was y-maked all,\r\nFor which the white crown above the green\r\nMade her like a daisy for to see\u2019n,*                          *look upon\r\nConsider\u2019d eke her fret of gold above.\r\nY-clothed was this mighty God of Love\r\nIn silk embroider\u2019d, full of greene greves,*                     *boughs\r\nIn which there was a fret of red rose leaves,\r\nThe freshest since the world was first begun.\r\nHis gilt hair was y-crowned with a sun,\r\nlnstead of gold, for* heaviness and weight;                    *to avoid\r\nTherewith me thought his face shone so bright,\r\nThat well unnethes might I him behold;\r\nAnd in his hand me thought I saw him hold\r\nTwo fiery dartes, as the gledes* red;                     *glowing coals\r\nAnd angel-like his winges saw I spread.\r\nAnd *all be* that men say that blind is he,                   *although*\r\nAlgate* me thoughte that he might well see;               *at all events\r\nFor sternly upon me he gan behold,\r\nSo that his looking *did my hearte cold.*                 *made my heart\r\nAnd by the hand he held this noble queen,                     grow cold*\r\nCrowned with white, and clothed all in green,\r\nSo womanly, so benign, and so meek,\r\nThat in this worlde, though that men would seek.\r\nHalf of her beauty shoulde they not find\r\nIn creature that formed is by Kind;*                             *Nature\r\nAnd therefore may I say, as thinketh me,\r\nThis song in praising of this lady free:\r\n\r\n\u201cHide, Absolon, thy gilte* tresses clear;                        *golden\r\nEsther, lay thou thy meekness all adown;\r\nHide, Jonathan, all thy friendly mannere,\r\nPenelope, and Marcia Catoun,<14>\r\nMake of your wifehood no comparisoun;\r\nHide ye your beauties, Isoude <15> and Helene;\r\nMy lady comes, that all this may distain.*               *outdo, obscure\r\n\r\n\u201cThy faire body let it not appear,\r\nLavine; <16> and thou, Lucrece of Rome town;\r\nAnd Polyxene, <17> that boughte love so dear,\r\nAnd Cleopatra, with all thy passioun,\r\nHide ye your truth of love, and your renown;\r\nAnd thou, Thisbe, that hadst of love such pain\r\nMy lady comes, that all this may distain.\r\n\r\n\u201cHero, Dido, Laodamia, y-fere,*                                *together\r\nAnd Phyllis, hanging for Demophoon,\r\nAnd Canace, espied by thy cheer,\r\nHypsipyle, betrayed by Jasoun,\r\nMake of your truthe neither boast nor soun\u2019;\r\nNor Hypermnestr\u2019 nor Ariadne, ye twain;\r\nMy lady comes, that all this may distain.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis ballad may full well y-sungen be,\r\nAs I have said erst, by my lady free;\r\nFor, certainly, all these may not suffice\r\n*T\u2019appaire with* my lady in no wise;                  *surpass in beauty\r\nFor, as the sunne will the fire distain,                      or honour*\r\nSo passeth all my lady sovereign,\r\nThat is so good, so fair, so debonair,\r\nI pray to God that ever fall her fair!\r\nFor *n\u2019hadde comfort been* of her presence,               *had I not the\r\nI had been dead, without any defence,                        comfort of*\r\nFor dread of Love\u2019s wordes, and his cheer;\r\nAs, when time is, hereafter ye shall hear.\r\nBehind this God of Love, upon the green,\r\nI saw coming of Ladies nineteen,\r\nIn royal habit, a full easy pace;\r\nAnd after them of women such a trace,*                            *train\r\nThat, since that God Adam had made of earth,\r\nThe thirde part of mankind, or the ferth,*                       *fourth\r\n*Ne ween\u2019d I not* by possibility,                      *I never fancied*\r\nHad ever in this wide world y-be;*                                 *been\r\nAnd true of love these women were each one.\r\nNow whether was that a wonder thing, or non,*                       *not\r\nThat, right anon as that they gan espy\r\nThis flow\u2019r, which that I call the daisy,\r\nFull suddenly they stenten* all at once,                        *stopped\r\nAnd kneeled down, as it were for the nonce,\r\nAnd sange with one voice, \u201cHeal and honour\r\nTo truth of womanhead, and to this flow\u2019r,\r\n*That bears our aller prize in figuring;*      *that in its figure bears\r\nHer white crowne bears the witnessing!\u201d           the prize from us all*\r\nAnd with that word, *a-compass enviroun*          *all around in a ring*\r\nThey sette them full softely adown.\r\nFirst sat the God of Love, and since* his queen,             *afterwards\r\nWith the white corowne, clad in green;\r\nAnd sithen* all the remnant by and by,                             *then\r\nAs they were of estate, full courteously;\r\nAnd not a word was spoken in the place,\r\nThe mountance* of a furlong way of space.                   *extent <18>\r\n\r\nI, kneeling by this flow\u2019r, in good intent\r\nAbode, to knowe what this people meant,\r\nAs still as any stone, till, at the last,\r\nThe God of Love on me his eyen cast,\r\nAnd said, \u201cWho kneeleth there? \u201cand I answer\u2019d\r\nUnto his asking, when that I it heard,\r\nAnd said, \u201cIt am I,\u201d and came to him near,\r\nAnd salued* him. Quoth he, \u201cWhat dost thou here,                *saluted\r\nSo nigh mine owen flow\u2019r, so boldely?\r\nIt were better worthy, truely,\r\nA worm to nighe* near my flow\u2019r than thou.\u201d         *approach, draw nigh\r\n\u201cAnd why, Sir,\u201d quoth I, \u201can\u2019 it liketh you?\u201d\r\n\u201cFor thou,\u201d quoth he, \u201cart thereto nothing able,\r\nIt is my relic,* dign** and delectable,            *emblem <19> **worthy\r\nAnd thou my foe, and all my folk warrayest,*       *molestest, censurest\r\nAnd of mine olde servants thou missayest,\r\nAnd hind\u2019rest them, with thy translation,\r\nAnd lettest* folk from their devotion                        *preventest\r\nTo serve me, and holdest it folly\r\nTo serve Love; thou may\u2019st it not deny;\r\nFor in plain text, withoute need of glose,*              *comment, gloss\r\nThu hast translated the Romance of the Rose,\r\nThat is a heresy against my law,\r\nAnd maketh wise folk from me withdraw;\r\nAnd of Cresside thou hast said as thee list,\r\nThat maketh men to women less to trust,\r\nThat be as true as e\u2019er was any steel.\r\nOf thine answer *advise thee right weel;*          *consider right well*\r\nFor though that thou *renied hast my lay,*               *abjured my law\r\nAs other wretches have done many a day,                     or religion*\r\nBy Sainte Venus, that my mother is,\r\nIf that thou live, thou shalt repente this,\r\nSo cruelly, that it shall well be seen.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen spake this Lady, clothed all in green,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cGod, right of your courtesy,\r\nYe mighte hearken if he can reply\r\nAgainst all this, that ye have *to him meved;*    *advanced against him*\r\nA godde shoulde not be thus aggrieved,\r\nBut of his deity he shall be stable,\r\nAnd thereto gracious and merciable.*                           *merciful\r\nAnd if ye n\u2019ere* a god, that knoweth all,                      *were not\r\nThen might it be, as I you telle shall,\r\nThis man to you may falsely be accused,\r\nWhereas by right him ought to be excused;\r\nFor in your court is many a losengeour,*                  *deceiver <20>\r\nAnd many a *quaint toteler accusour,*     *strange prating accuser <21>*\r\nThat tabour* in your eares many a soun\u2019,                           *drum\r\nRight after their imaginatioun,\r\nTo have your dalliance,* and for envy;           *pleasant conversation,\r\nThese be the causes, and I shall not lie,                        company\r\nEnvy is lavender* of the Court alway,                         *laundress\r\nFor she departeth neither night nor day <22>\r\nOut of the house of Caesar, thus saith Dant\u2019;\r\nWhoso that go\u2019th, algate* she shall not want.             *at all events\r\nAnd eke, parauntre,* for this man is nice,**     *peradventure **foolish\r\nHe mighte do it guessing* no malice;                           *thinking\r\nFor he useth thinges for to make;*                       *compose poetry\r\nHim *recketh naught of * what mattere he take;       *cares nothing for*\r\nOr he was bidden *make thilke tway*                  *compose those two*\r\nOf* some person, and durst it not withsay;*           *by **refuse, deny\r\nOr him repenteth utterly of this.\r\nHe hath not done so grievously amiss,\r\nTo translate what olde clerkes write,\r\nAs though that he of malice would endite,*                   *write down\r\n*Despite of* Love, and had himself it wrought.            *contempt for*\r\nThis should a righteous lord have in his thought,\r\nAnd not be like tyrants of Lombardy,\r\nThat have no regard but at tyranny.\r\nFor he that king or lord is naturel,\r\nHim oughte not be tyrant or cruel, <23>\r\nAs is a farmer, <24> to do the harm he can;\r\nHe muste think, it is his liegeman,\r\nAnd is his treasure, and his gold in coffer;\r\nThis is the sentence* of the philosopher:            *opinion, sentiment\r\nA king to keep his lieges in justice,\r\nWithoute doubte that is his office.\r\nAll* will he keep his lords in their degree, \u2014                *although\r\nAs it is right and skilful* that they be,                    *reasonable\r\nEnhanced and honoured, and most dear,\r\nFor they be halfe* in this world here, \u2014                      *demigods\r\nYet must he do both right to poor and rich,\r\nAll be that their estate be not y-lich;*                          *alike\r\nAnd have of poore folk compassion.\r\nFor lo! the gentle kind of the lion;\r\nFor when a fly offendeth him, or biteth,\r\nHe with his tail away the flye smiteth,\r\nAll easily; for of his gentery*                               *nobleness\r\nHim deigneth not to wreak him on a fly,\r\nAs doth a cur, or else another beast.\r\n*In noble corage ought to be arrest,*           *in a noble nature ought\r\nAnd weighen ev\u2019rything by equity,                  to be self-restraint*\r\nAnd ever have regard to his degree.\r\nFor, Sir, it is no mastery for a lord\r\nTo damn* a man, without answer of word;                         *condemn\r\nAnd for a lord, that is *full foul to use.*     *most infamous practice*\r\nAnd it be so he* may him not excuse,                       *the offender\r\nBut asketh mercy with a dreadful* heart,                 *fearing, timid\r\nAnd proffereth him, right in his bare shirt,\r\nTo be right at your owen judgement,\r\nThen ought a god, by short advisement,*                    *deliberation\r\nConsider his own honour, and his trespass;\r\nFor since no pow\u2019r of death lies in this case,\r\nYou ought to be the lighter merciable;\r\nLette* your ire, and be somewhat tractable!                    *restrain\r\nThis man hath served you of his cunning,*                *ability, skill\r\nAnd further\u2019d well your law in his making.*            *composing poetry\r\nAlbeit that he cannot well endite,\r\nYet hath he made lewed* folk delight                           *ignorant\r\nTo serve you, in praising of your name.\r\nHe made the book that hight the House of Fame,\r\nAnd eke the Death of Blanche the Duchess,\r\nAnd the Parliament of Fowles, as I guess,\r\nAnd all the Love of Palamon and Arcite, <25>\r\nOf Thebes, though the story is known lite;*                      *little\r\nAnd many a hymne for your holydays,\r\nThat highte ballads, roundels, virelays.\r\nAnd, for to speak of other holiness,\r\nHe hath in prose translated Boece, <26>\r\nAnd made the Life also of Saint Cecile;\r\nHe made also, gone is a greate while,\r\nOrigenes upon the Magdalene. <27>\r\nHim oughte now to have the lesse pain;*                         *penalty\r\nHe hath made many a lay, and many a thing.\r\nNow as ye be a god, and eke a king,\r\nI your Alcestis, <28> whilom queen of Thrace,\r\nI aske you this man, right of your grace,\r\nThat ye him never hurt in all his life;\r\nAnd he shall sweare to you, and that blife,*                    *quickly\r\nHe shall no more aguilten* in this wise,                         *offend\r\nBut shall maken, as ye will him devise,\r\nOf women true in loving all their life,\r\nWhereso ye will, of maiden or of wife,\r\nAnd further you as much as he missaid\r\nOr* in the Rose, or elles in Cresseide.\u201d                         *either\r\n\r\nThe God of Love answered her anon:\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cit is so long agone\r\nThat I you knew, so charitable and true,\r\nThat never yet, since that the world was new,\r\nTo me ne found I better none than ye;\r\nIf that I woulde save my degree,\r\nI may nor will not warne* your request;                          *refuse\r\nAll lies in you, do with him as you lest.\r\nI all forgive withoute longer space;*                             *delay\r\nFor he who gives a gift, or doth a grace,\r\nDo it betimes, his thank is well the more; <29>\r\nAnd deeme* ye what he shall do therefor.                        *adjudge\r\nGo thanke now my Lady here,\u201d quoth he.\r\nI rose, and down I set me on my knee,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cMadame, the God above\r\nForyielde* you that ye the God of Love                           *reward\r\nHave made me his wrathe to forgive;\r\nAnd grace* so longe for to live,                          *give me grace\r\nThat I may knowe soothly what ye be,\r\nThat have me help\u2019d, and put in this degree!\r\nBut truely I ween\u2019d, as in this case,\r\nNaught t\u2019 have aguilt,* nor done to Love trespass;**           *offended\r\nFor why? a true man, withoute dread,                           **offence\r\nHath not *to parte with* a thieve\u2019s deed.                 *any share in*\r\nNor a true lover oughte me to blame,\r\nThough that I spoke a false lover some shame.\r\nThey oughte rather with me for to hold,\r\nFor that I of Cressida wrote or told,\r\nOr of the Rose, *what so mine author meant;*   *made a true translation*\r\nAlgate, God wot, it was mine intent                         *by all ways\r\nTo further truth in love, and it cherice,*                      *cherish\r\nAnd to beware from falseness and from vice,\r\nBy such example; this was my meaning.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd she answer\u2019d; \u201cLet be thine arguing,\r\nFor Love will not counterpleaded be <30>\r\nIn right nor wrong, and learne that of me;\r\nThou hast thy grace, and hold thee right thereto.\r\nNow will I say what penance thou shalt do\r\nFor thy trespass;* and understand it here:                      *offence\r\nThou shalt, while that thou livest, year by year,\r\nThe moste partie of thy time spend\r\nIn making of a glorious Legend\r\nOf Goode Women, maidenes and wives,\r\nThat were true in loving all their lives;\r\nAnd tell of false men that them betray,\r\nThat all their life do naught but assay\r\nHow many women they may do a shame;\r\nFor in your world that is now *held a game.*        *considered a sport*\r\nAnd though thou like not a lover be, <31>\r\nSpeak well of love; this penance give I thee.\r\nAnd to the God of Love I shall so pray,\r\nThat he shall charge his servants, by any way,\r\nTo further thee, and well thy labour quite:*                    *requite\r\nGo now thy way, thy penance is but lite.\r\nAnd, when this book ye make, give it the queen\r\nOn my behalf, at Eltham, or at Sheen.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe God of Love gan smile, and then he said:\r\n\u201cKnow\u2019st thou,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwhether this be wife or maid,\r\nOr queen, or countess, or of what degree,\r\nThat hath so little penance given thee,\r\nThat hath deserved sorely for to smart?\r\nBut pity runneth soon in gentle* heart; <32>                 *nobly born\r\nThat may\u2019st thou see, she kitheth* what she is.                 *showeth\r\nAnd I answer\u2019d: \u201cNay, Sir, so have I bliss,\r\nNo more but that I see well she is good.\u201d\r\n\u201cThat is a true tale, by my hood,\u201d\r\nQuoth Love; \u201cand that thou knowest well, pardie!\r\nIf it be so that thou advise* thee.                             *bethink\r\nHast thou not in a book, li\u2019th* in thy chest,               *(that) lies\r\nThe greate goodness of the queen Alceste,\r\nThat turned was into a daisy\r\nShe that for her husbande chose to die,\r\nAnd eke to go to hell rather than he;\r\nAnd Hercules rescued her, pardie!\r\nAnd brought her out of hell again to bliss?\u201d\r\nAnd I answer\u2019d again, and saide; \u201cYes,\r\nNow know I her; and is this good Alceste,\r\nThe daisy, and mine own hearte\u2019s rest?\r\nNow feel I well the goodness of this wife,\r\nThat both after her death, and in her life,\r\nHer greate bounty* doubleth her renown.                          *virtue\r\nWell hath she quit* me mine affectioun                      *recompensed\r\nThat I have to her flow\u2019r the daisy;\r\nNo wonder is though Jove her stellify, <33>\r\nAs telleth Agathon, <34> for her goodness;\r\nHer white crowne bears of it witness;\r\nFor all so many virtues hadde she\r\nAs smalle flowrons in her crowne be.\r\nIn remembrance of her, and in honour,\r\nCybele made the daisy, and the flow\u2019r,\r\nY-crowned all with white, as men may see,\r\nAnd Mars gave her a crowne red, pardie!\r\nInstead of rubies set among the white.\u201d\r\n\r\nTherewith this queen wax\u2019d red for shame a lite\r\nWhen she was praised so in her presence.\r\nThen saide Love: \u201cA full great negligence\r\nWas it to thee, that ilke* time thou made                     *that same\r\n\u2018Hide Absolon thy tresses,\u2019 in ballade,\r\nThat thou forgot her in thy song to set,\r\nSince that thou art so greatly in her debt,\r\nAnd knowest well that calendar* is she                   *guide, example\r\nTo any woman that will lover be:\r\nFor she taught all the craft of true loving,\r\nAnd namely* of wifehood the living,                          *especially\r\nAnd all the boundes that she ought to keep:\r\nThy little wit was thilke* time asleep.                            *that\r\nBut now I charge thee, upon thy life,\r\nThat in thy Legend thou make* of this wife,            *poetise, compose\r\nWhen thou hast other small y-made before;\r\nAnd fare now well, I charge thee no more.\r\nBut ere I go, thus much I will thee tell, \u2014\r\nNever shall no true lover come in hell.\r\nThese other ladies, sitting here a-row,\r\nBe in my ballad, if thou canst them know,\r\nAnd in thy bookes all thou shalt them find;\r\nHave them in thy Legend now all in mind;\r\nI mean of them that be in thy knowing.\r\nFor here be twenty thousand more sitting\r\nThan that thou knowest, goode women all,\r\nAnd true of love, for aught that may befall;\r\nMake the metres of them as thee lest;\r\nI must go home, \u2014 the sunne draweth west, \u2014\r\nTo Paradise, with all this company:\r\nAnd serve alway the freshe daisy.\r\nAt Cleopatra I will that thou begin,\r\nAnd so forth, and my love so shalt thou win;\r\nFor let see now what man, that lover be,\r\nWill do so strong a pain for love as she.\r\nI wot well that thou may\u2019st not all it rhyme,\r\nThat suche lovers didden in their time;\r\nIt were too long to readen and to hear;\r\nSuffice me thou make in this mannere,\r\nThat thou rehearse of all their life the great,*              *substance\r\nAfter* these old authors list for to treat;                *according as\r\nFor whoso shall so many a story tell,\r\nSay shortly, or he shall too longe dwell.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word my bookes gan I take,\r\nAnd right thus on my Legend gan I make.\r\n\r\nThus endeth the Prologue.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The prologue to The Legend of Good Women\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Bernard, the Monke, saw not all, pardie!: a proverbial saying,\r\nsignifying that even the wisest, or those who claim to be the\r\nwisest, cannot know everything. Saint Bernard, who was the\r\nlast, or among the last, of the Fathers, lived in the first half of\r\nthe twelfth century.\r\n\r\n2. Compare Chaucer\u2019s account of his habits, in \u201cThe House of\r\nFame.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. See introductory note to \u201cThe Flower and the Leaf.\u201d\r\n\r\n4.                  \u201cye have herebefore\r\nOf making ropen, and led away the corn\u201d\r\nThe meaning is, that the \u201clovers\u201d have long ago said all that can\r\nbe said, by way of poetry, or \u201cmaking\u201d on the subject. See note\r\n89 to \u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d for the etymology of \u201cmaking\u201d\r\nmeaning \u201cwriting poetry.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. The poet glides here into an address to his lady.\r\n\r\n6. Europa was the daughter of Agenores, king of Phrygia. She\r\nwas carried away to Crete by Jupiter, disguised as a lovely and\r\ntame bull, on whose back Europa mounted as she was sporting\r\nwith her maidens by the sea-shore. The story is beautifully told\r\nin Horace, Odes, iii. 27.\r\n\r\n7. See \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls,\u201d which was supposed to\r\nhappen on St. Valentine\u2019s day.\r\n\r\n8. The tidife:  The titmouse, or any other small bird, which\r\nsometimes brings up the cuckoo\u2019s young when its own have\r\nbeen destroyed. See note 44 to \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls.\u201d\r\n\r\n9. Ethic: the \u201cEthics\u201d of Aristotle.\r\n\r\n10. \u201cFor as to me is lever none nor lother,\r\nI n\u2019am withholden yet with neither n\u2019other.\u201d\r\ni.e For as neither is more liked or disliked by me, I am not\r\nbound by, holden to, either the one or the other.\r\n\r\n11. All of another tun i.e. wine of another tun \u2014 a quite\r\ndifferent matter.\r\n\r\n12. Compare the description of the arbour in \u201cThe Flower and\r\nthe Leaf.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. Flowrons: florets; little flowers on the disk of the main\r\nflower; French \u201cfleuron.\u201d\r\n\r\n14. Mr Bell thinks that Chaucer here praises the complaisance\r\nof Marcia, the wife of Cato, in complying with his will when he\r\nmade her over to his friend Hortensius. It would be in better\r\nkeeping with the spirit of the poet\u2019s praise, to believe that we\r\nshould read \u201cPorcia Catoun\u201d \u2014 Porcia the daughter of Cato,\r\nwho was married to Brutus, and whose perfect wifehood has\r\nbeen celebrated in The Franklin\u2019s Tale. See note 25 to the\r\nFranklin\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n15. Isoude: See note 21 to \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls\u201d.\r\n\r\n16. Lavine: Lavinia, the heroine of the Aeneid, who became the\r\nwife of Aeneas.\r\n\r\n17. Polyxena, daughter of Priam, king of Troy, fell in\r\nlove with Achilles, and, when he was killed, she fled to the\r\nGreek camp, and slew herself on the tomb of her hero-lover.\r\n\r\n18. Mountance: extent, duration. See note 84 to \u201cThe House of\r\nFame\u201d.\r\n\r\n19. Relic: emblem; or cherished treasure; like the relics at\r\nthe shrines of saints.\r\n\r\n20. Losengeour: deceiver. See note 31 to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n21. \u201cToteler\u201d is an old form of the word \u201ctatler,\u201d from the\r\nAnglo-Saxon, \u201ctotaelan,\u201d to talk much, to tattle.\r\n\r\n22. Envy is lavender of the court alway: a \u201clavender\u201d  is a\r\nwasherwoman or laundress; the word represents \u201cmeretrice\u201din\r\nDante\u2019s original \u2014 meaning a courtezan; but we can well\r\nunderstand that Chaucer thought it prudent, and at the same\r\ntime more true to the moral state of the English Court, to\r\nchange the character assigned to Envy. He means that Envy is\r\nperpetually at Court, like some garrulous, bitter old woman\r\nemployed there in the most servile offices, who remains at her\r\npost through all the changes among the courtiers. The passage\r\ncited from Dante will be found in the \u201cInferno,\u201d canto xiii. 64 \u2014\r\n69.\r\n\r\n23. Chaucer says that the usurping lords who seized on the\r\ngovernment of the free Lombard cities, had no regard for any\r\nrule of government save sheer tyranny  \u2014 but a natural lord, and\r\nno usurper, ought not to be a tyrant.\r\n\r\n24. Farmer: one who merely farms power or revenue for his\r\nown purposes and his own gain.\r\n\r\n25. This was the first version of the Knight\u2019s tale. See the\r\nintroductory note, above\r\n\r\n26. Boece: Boethius\u2019 \u201cDe Consolatione Philosophiae;\u201d to which\r\nfrequent reference is made in The Canterbury Tales. See, for\r\ninstances, note 91 to the Knight\u2019s Tale; and note 34 to the\r\nSquire\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n27. A poem entitled \u201cThe Lamentation of Mary Magdalene,\u201d\r\nsaid to have been \u201ctaken out of St Origen,\u201d is included in the\r\neditions of Chaucer; but its authenticity, and consequently its\r\nidentity with the poem here mentioned, are doubted.\r\n\r\n28. For the story of Alcestis, see note 11 to \u201cThe Court of\r\nLove.\u201d\r\n\r\n29. \u201cFor he who gives a gift, or doth a grace,\r\n     Do it betimes, his thank is well the more\u201d\r\nA paraphrase of the well-known proverb, \u201cBis dat qui cito dat.\u201d\r\n(\u201cHe gives twice who gives promptly\u201d)\r\n\r\n30. The same prohibition occurs in the Fifteenth Statute of \u201cThe\r\nCourt of Love.\u201d\r\n\r\n31. Chaucer is always careful to allege his abstinence from the\r\npursuits of gallantry; he does so prominently in \u201cThe Court of\r\nLove,\u201d \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls,\u201d and \u201cThe House of Fame.\u201d\r\n\r\n32. Pity runneth soon in gentle heart: the same is said of\r\nTheseus, in The Knight\u2019s Tale, and of Canace, by the falcon, in\r\nThe Squire\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n33. Stellify: assign to a place among the stars; as Jupiter did to\r\nAndromeda and Cassiopeia.\r\n\r\n34. Agathon: there was an Athenian dramatist of this name,\r\nwho might have made the virtues and fortunes of Alcestis his\r\ntheme; but the reference is too vague for the author to be\r\nidentified with any confidence.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAUCER\u2019S A. B. C. <1>\r\nCALLED\r\nLA PRIERE DE NOSTRE DAME <2>\r\n\r\nA.\r\n\r\nALMIGHTY and all-merciable* Queen,                         *all-merciful\r\nTo whom all this world fleeth for succour,\r\nTo have release of sin, of sorrow, of teen!*                 *affliction\r\nGlorious Virgin! of all flowers flow\u2019r,\r\nTo thee I flee, confounded in errour!\r\nHelp and relieve, almighty debonair,*                  *gracious, gentle\r\nHave mercy of my perilous languour!\r\nVanquish\u2019d me hath my cruel adversair.\r\n\r\nB.\r\n\r\nBounty* so fix\u2019d hath in thy heart his tent,          *goodness, charity\r\nThat well I wot thou wilt my succour be;\r\nThou canst not *warne that* with good intent             *refuse he who*\r\nAsketh thy help, thy heart is ay so free!\r\nThou art largess* of plein** felicity,          *liberal bestower **full\r\nHaven and refuge of quiet and rest!\r\nLo! how that thieves seven <3> chase me!\r\nHelp, Lady bright, ere that my ship to-brest!*      *be broken to pieces\r\n\r\nC.\r\n\r\nComfort is none, but in you, Lady dear!\r\nFor lo! my sin and my confusion,\r\nWhich ought not in thy presence to appear,\r\nHave ta\u2019en on me a grievous action,*                            *control\r\nOf very right and desperation!\r\nAnd, as by right, they mighte well sustene\r\nThat I were worthy my damnation,\r\nNe were it mercy of you, blissful Queen!\r\n\r\nD.\r\n\r\nDoubt is there none, Queen of misericorde,*                  *compassion\r\nThat thou art cause of grace and mercy here;\r\nGod vouchesaf\u2019d, through thee, with us t\u2019accord;*      *to be reconciled\r\nFor, certes, Christe\u2019s blissful mother dear!\r\nWere now the bow y-bent, in such mannere\r\nAs it was first, of justice and of ire,\r\nThe rightful God would of no mercy hear;\r\nBut through thee have we grace as we desire.\r\n\r\nE.\r\n\r\nEver hath my hope of refuge in thee be\u2019;\r\nFor herebefore full oft in many a wise\r\nUnto mercy hast thou received me.\r\nBut mercy, Lady! at the great assize,\r\nWhen we shall come before the high Justice!\r\nSo little fruit shall then in me be found,\r\nThat,* thou ere that day correcte me,                            *unless\r\nOf very right my work will me confound.\r\n\r\nF.\r\n\r\nFlying, I flee for succour to thy tent,\r\nMe for to hide from tempest full of dread;\r\nBeseeching you, that ye you not absent,\r\nThough I be wick\u2019. O help yet at this need!\r\nAll* have I been a beast in wit and deed,                      *although\r\nYet, Lady! thou me close in with thy grace;\r\n*Thine enemy and mine,* \u2014 Lady, take heed! \u2014               *the devil*\r\nUnto my death in point is me to chase.\r\n\r\nG.\r\n\r\nGracious Maid and Mother! which that never\r\nWert bitter nor in earthe nor in sea, <4>\r\nBut full of sweetness and of mercy ever,\r\nHelp, that my Father be not wroth with me!\r\nSpeak thou, for I ne dare Him not see;\r\nSo have I done in earth, alas the while!\r\nThat, certes, but if thou my succour be,\r\nTo sink etern He will my ghost exile.\r\n\r\nH.\r\n\r\nHe vouchesaf\u2019d, tell Him, as was His will,\r\nBecome a man, *as for our alliance,*               *to ally us with god*\r\nAnd with His blood He wrote that blissful bill\r\nUpon the cross, as general acquittance\r\nTo ev\u2019ry penitent in full creance;*                              *belief\r\nAnd therefore, Lady bright! thou for us pray;\r\nThen shalt thou stenten* alle His grievance,              *put an end to\r\nAnd make our foe to failen of his prey.\r\n\r\nI.\r\n\r\nI wote well thou wilt be our succour,\r\nThou art so full of bounty in certain;\r\nFor, when a soule falleth in errour,\r\nThy pity go\u2019th, and haleth* him again;                          *draweth\r\nThen makest thou his peace with his Sov\u2019reign,\r\nAnd bringest him out of the crooked street:\r\nWhoso thee loveth shall not love in vain,\r\nThat shall he find *as he the life shall lete.*          *when he leaves\r\n                                                                   life*\r\n                               K.\r\n\r\n*Kalendares illumined* be they                     *brilliant exemplars*\r\nThat in this world be lighted with thy name;\r\nAnd whoso goeth with thee the right way,\r\nHim shall not dread in soule to be lame;\r\nNow, Queen of comfort! since thou art the same\r\nTo whom I seeke for my medicine,\r\nLet not my foe no more my wound entame;*                 *injure, molest\r\nMy heal into thy hand all I resign.\r\n\r\nL.\r\n\r\nLady, thy sorrow can I not portray\r\nUnder that cross, nor his grievous penance;\r\nBut, for your bothe\u2019s pain, I you do pray,\r\nLet not our *aller foe* make his boastance,        *the foe of us all \u2014\r\nThat he hath in his listes, with mischance,                       Satan*\r\n*Convicte that* ye both have bought so dear;       *ensnared that which*\r\nAs I said erst, thou ground of all substance!\r\nContinue on us thy piteous eyen clear.\r\n\r\nM.\r\n\r\nMoses, that saw the bush of flames red\r\nBurning, of which then never a stick brenn\u2019d,*                   *burned\r\nWas sign of thine unwemmed* maidenhead.                     *unblemished\r\nThou art the bush, on which there gan descend\r\nThe Holy Ghost, the which that Moses wend*             *weened, supposed\r\nHad been on fire; and this was in figure. <5>\r\nNow, Lady! from the fire us do defend,\r\nWhich that in hell eternally shall dure.\r\n\r\nN.\r\n\r\nNoble Princess! that never haddest peer;\r\nCertes if any comfort in us be,\r\nThat cometh of thee, Christe\u2019s mother dear!\r\nWe have none other melody nor glee,*                           *pleasure\r\nUs to rejoice in our adversity;\r\nNor advocate, that will and dare so pray\r\nFor us, and for as little hire as ye,\r\nThat helpe for an Ave-Mary or tway.\r\n\r\nO.\r\n\r\nO very light of eyen that be blind!\r\nO very lust* of labour and distress!                   *relief, pleasure\r\nO treasurer of bounty to mankind!\r\nThe whom God chose to mother for humbless!\r\nFrom his ancill* <6> he made thee mistress                     *handmaid\r\nOf heav\u2019n and earth, our *billes up to bede;*   *offer up our petitions*\r\nThis world awaiteth ever on thy goodness;\r\nFor thou ne failedst never wight at need.\r\n\r\nP.\r\n\r\nPurpose I have sometime for to enquere\r\nWherefore and why the Holy Ghost thee sought,\r\nWhen Gabrielis voice came to thine ear;\r\nHe not to war* us such a wonder wrought,                        *afflict\r\nBut for to save us, that sithens us bought:\r\nThen needeth us no weapon us to save,\r\nBut only, where we did not as we ought,\r\nDo penitence, and mercy ask and have.\r\n\r\nQ.\r\n\r\nQueen of comfort, right when I me bethink\r\nThat I aguilt* have bothe Him and thee,                        *offended\r\nAnd that my soul is worthy for to sink,\r\nAlas! I, caitiff, whither shall I flee?\r\nWho shall unto thy Son my meane* be?                 *medium of approach\r\nWho, but thyself, that art of pity well?*                      *fountain\r\nThou hast more ruth on our adversity\r\nThan in this world might any tongue tell!\r\n\r\nR.\r\n\r\nRedress me, Mother, and eke me chastise!\r\nFor certainly my Father\u2019s chastising\r\nI dare not abiden in no wise,\r\nSo hideous is his full reckoning.\r\nMother! of whom our joy began to spring,\r\nBe ye my judge, and eke my soule\u2019s leach;*                    *physician\r\nFor ay in you is pity abounding\r\nTo each that will of pity you beseech.\r\n\r\nS.\r\n\r\nSooth is it that He granteth no pity\r\nWithoute thee; for God of his goodness\r\nForgiveth none, *but it like unto thee;*               *unless it please\r\nHe hath thee made vicar and mistress                               thee*\r\nOf all this world, and eke governess\r\nOf heaven; and represseth his justice\r\nAfter* thy will; and therefore in witness                  *according to\r\nHe hath thee crowned in so royal wise.\r\n\r\nT.\r\n\r\nTemple devout! where God chose his wonning,*                      *abode\r\nFrom which, these misbeliev\u2019d deprived be,\r\nTo you my soule penitent I bring;\r\nReceive me, for I can no farther flee.\r\nWith thornes venomous, O Heaven\u2019s Queen!\r\nFor which the earth accursed was full yore,\r\nI am so wounded, as ye may well see,\r\nThat I am lost almost, it smart so sore!\r\n\r\nV.\r\n\r\nVirgin! that art so noble of apparail,*                          *aspect\r\nThat leadest us into the highe tow\u2019r\r\nOf Paradise, thou me *wiss and counsail*            *direct and counsel*\r\nHow I may have thy grace and thy succour;\r\nAll have I been in filth and in errour,\r\nLady! *on that country thou me adjourn,*         *take me to that place*\r\nThat called is thy bench of freshe flow\u2019r,\r\nThere as that mercy ever shall sojourn.\r\n\r\nX.\r\n\r\nXpe <7> thy Son, that in this world alight,\r\nUpon a cross to suffer his passioun,\r\nAnd suffer\u2019d eke that Longeus his heart pight,* <8>             *pierced\r\nAnd made his hearte-blood to run adown;\r\nAnd all this was for my salvatioun:\r\nAnd I to him am false and eke unkind,\r\nAnd yet he wills not my damnation;\r\n*This thank I you,* succour of all mankind!               *for this I am\r\n                                                        indebted to you*\r\n                               Y.\r\n\r\nYsaac was figure of His death certain,\r\nThat so farforth his father would obey,\r\nThat him *ne raughte* nothing to be slain;                *he cared not*\r\nRight so thy Son list as a lamb to dey:*                            *die\r\nNow, Lady full of mercy! I you pray,\r\nSince he his mercy \u2019sured me so large,\r\nBe ye not scant, for all we sing and say,\r\nThat ye be from vengeance alway our targe.*             *shield, defence\r\n\r\nZ.\r\n\r\nZachary you calleth the open well <9>\r\nThat washed sinful soul out of his guilt;\r\nTherefore this lesson out I will to tell,\r\nThat, n\u2019ere* thy tender hearte, we were spilt.**        *were it not for\r\nNow, Lady brighte! since thou canst and wilt,        *destroyed, undone*\r\nBe to the seed of Adam merciable;*                             *merciful\r\nBring us unto that palace that is built\r\nTo penitents that be *to mercy able!*             *fit to receive mercy*\r\n\r\nExplicit.*                                                      *The end\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Chaucer\u2019s A. B. C.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Chaucer\u2019s A. B. C. \u2014 a prayer to the Virgin, in twenty three\r\nverses, beginning with the letters of the alphabet in their\r\norder \u2014 is said to have been written \u201cat the request of Blanche,\r\nDuchess of Lancaster, as a prayer for her private use, being a\r\nwoman in her religion very devout.\u201d It was first printed in\r\nSpeght\u2019s edition of 1597.\r\n\r\n2. La Priere De Nostre Dame: French, \u201cThe Prayer of Our\r\nLady.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. Thieves seven: i.e. the seven deadly sins\r\n\r\n4. Mary\u2019s name recalls the waters of \u201cMarah\u201d or bitterness\r\n(Exod. xv. 23), or the prayer of Naomi in her grief that she\r\nmight be called not Naomi, but \u201cMara\u201d (Ruth i. 20). Mary,\r\nhowever, is understood to mean \u201cexalted.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. A typical representation. See The Prioress\u2019s Tale, third\r\nstanza.\r\n\r\n6. The reference evidently is to Luke i. 38 \u2014 \u201cEcce ancilla\r\nDomini,\u201d (\u201cBehold the handmaid of the Lord\u201d) the Virgin\u2019s\r\nhumble answer to Gabriel at the Annunciation.\r\n\r\n7. \u201cXpe\u201d represents the Greek letters chi rho epsilon, and is a\r\ncontraction for \u201cChriste.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. According to tradition, the soldier who struck the Saviour to\r\nthe heart with his spear was named Longeus, and was blind;\r\nbut, touching his eyes by chance with the mingled blood and\r\nwater that flowed down the shaft upon his hands, he was\r\ninstantly restored to sight.\r\n\r\n9. \u201cIn that day there shall be a fountain opened to the house of\r\nDavid and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin and for\r\nuncleanness\u201d (Zech. xiii. 1).\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nA GOODLY BALLAD OF CHAUCER.<1>\r\n\r\n\r\nMOTHER of nurture, best belov\u2019d of all,\r\nAnd freshe flow\u2019r, to whom good thrift God send\r\nYour child, if it lust* you me so to call,                       *please\r\n*All be I*  unable myself so to pretend,                  *although I be\r\nTo your discretion I recommend\r\nMy heart and all, with ev\u2019ry circumstance,\r\nAll wholly to be under your governance.\r\n\r\nMost desire I, and have and ever shall,\r\nThinge which might your hearte\u2019s ease amend\r\nHave me excus\u2019d, my power is but small;\r\nNathless, of right, ye oughte to commend\r\nMy goode will, which fame would entend*                  *attend, strive\r\nTo do you service; for my suffisance*                       *contentment\r\nIs wholly to be under your governance.\r\n\r\nMieux un in heart which never shall apall, <2>\r\nAy fresh and new, and right glad to dispend\r\nMy time in your service, what so befall,\r\nBeseeching your excellence to defend\r\nMy simpleness, if ignorance offend\r\nIn any wise; since that mine affiance\r\nIs wholly to be under your governance.\r\n\r\nDaisy of light, very ground of comfort,\r\nThe sunne\u2019s daughter ye light, as I read;\r\nFor when he west\u2019reth, farewell your disport!\r\nBy your nature alone, right for pure dread\r\nOf the rude night, that with his *boistous weed*          *rude garment*\r\nOf darkness shadoweth our hemisphere,\r\nThen close ye, my life\u2019s lady dear!\r\n\r\nDawneth the day unto his kind resort,\r\nAnd Phoebus your father, with his streames red,\r\nAdorns the morrow, consuming the sort*                            *crowd\r\nOf misty cloudes, that would overlade\r\nTrue humble heartes with their mistihead.*           *dimness, mistiness\r\nNew comfort adaws,* when your eyen clear                 *dawns, awakens\r\nDisclose and spread, my life\u2019s lady dear.\r\n\r\nJe voudrais* \u2014 but the greate God disposeth,              *I would wish\r\nAnd maketh casual, by his Providence,\r\nSuch thing as manne\u2019s fraile wit purposeth,\r\nAll for the best, if that your conscience\r\nNot grudge it, but in humble patience\r\nIt receive; for God saith, withoute fable,\r\nA faithful heart ever is acceptable.\r\n\r\nCauteles* whoso useth gladly, gloseth;**              *cautious speeches\r\nTo eschew such it is right high prudence;                    **deceiveth\r\nWhat ye said ones mine heart opposeth,\r\nThat my writing japes* in your absence            *jests, coarse stories\r\nPleased you much better than my presence:\r\nYet can I more; ye be not excusable;\r\nA faithful heart is ever acceptable.\r\n\r\nQuaketh my pen; my spirit supposeth\r\nThat in my writing ye will find offence;\r\nMine hearte welketh* thus; anon it riseth;              *withers, faints\r\nNow hot, now cold, and after in fervence;\r\nThat is amiss, is caus\u2019d of negligence,\r\nAnd not of malice; therefore be merciable;\r\nA faithful heart is ever acceptable.\r\n\r\n                            L\u2019Envoy.\r\n\r\nForthe, complaint! forth, lacking eloquence;\r\nForth little letter, of enditing lame!\r\nI have besought my lady\u2019s sapience\r\nOn thy behalfe, to accept in game\r\nThine inability; do thou the same.\r\nAbide! have more yet! *Je serve Joyesse!*                  *I serve Joy*\r\nNow forth, I close thee in holy Venus\u2019 name!\r\nThee shall unclose my hearte\u2019s governess.\r\n\r\nNotes To a Goodly Ballad Of Chaucer\r\n\r\n1. This elegant little poem is believed to have been addressed to\r\nMargaret, Countess of Pembroke, in whose name Chaucer\r\nfound one of those opportunities of praising the daisy he never\r\nlost. (Transcriber\u2019s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer\r\nwas not the author of this poem)\r\n\r\n2. Mieux un in heart which never shall apall: better one who in\r\nheart shall never pall \u2014 whose love will never weary.\r\n\r\n                 A BALLAD SENT TO KING RICHARD.\r\n\r\nSOMETIME this world was so steadfast and stable,\r\nThat man\u2019s word was held obligation;\r\nAnd now it is so false and deceivable,*                       *deceitful\r\nThat word and work, as in conclusion,\r\nBe nothing one; for turned up so down\r\nIs all this world, through meed* and wilfulness,                *bribery\r\nThat all is lost for lack of steadfastness.\r\n\r\nWhat makes this world to be so variable,\r\nBut lust* that folk have in dissension?                        *pleasure\r\nFor now-a-days a man is held unable*                    *fit for nothing\r\n*But if* he can, by some collusion,**             *unless* *fraud, trick\r\nDo his neighbour wrong or oppression.\r\nWhat causeth this but wilful wretchedness,\r\nThat all is lost for lack of steadfastness?\r\n\r\nTruth is put down, reason is holden fable;\r\nVirtue hath now no domination;\r\nPity exil\u2019d, no wight is merciable;\r\nThrough covetise is blent* discretion;                          *blinded\r\nThe worlde hath made permutation\r\nFrom right to wrong, from truth to fickleness,\r\nThat all is lost for lack of steadfastness.\r\n\r\n                            L\u2019Envoy.\r\n\r\nO Prince! desire to be honourable;\r\nCherish thy folk, and hate extortion;\r\nSuffer nothing that may be reprovable*            *a subject of reproach\r\nTo thine estate, done in thy region;*                           *kingdom\r\nShow forth the sword of castigation;\r\nDread God, do law, love thorough worthiness,\r\nAnd wed thy folk again to steadfastness!\r\n\r\n               L\u2019ENVOY OF CHAUCER TO BUKTON. <1>\r\n\r\nMy Master Bukton, when of Christ our King\r\nWas asked, What is truth or soothfastness?\r\nHe not a word answer\u2019d to that asking,\r\nAs who saith, no man is all true, I guess;\r\nAnd therefore, though I highte* to express                     *promised\r\nThe sorrow and woe that is in marriage,\r\nI dare not write of it no wickedness,\r\nLest I myself fall eft* in such dotage.**                 *again **folly\r\n\r\nI will not say how that it is the chain\r\nOf Satanas, on which he gnaweth ever;\r\nBut I dare say, were he out of his pain,\r\nAs by his will he would be bounden never.\r\nBut thilke* doated fool that eft had lever                         *that\r\nY-chained be, than out of prison creep,\r\nGod let him never from his woe dissever,\r\nNor no man him bewaile though he weep!\r\n\r\nBut yet, lest thou do worse, take a wife;\r\nBet is to wed than burn in worse wise; <2>\r\nBut thou shalt have sorrow on thy flesh *thy life,*       *all thy life*\r\nAnd be thy wife\u2019s thrall, as say these wise.\r\nAnd if that Holy Writ may not suffice,\r\nExperience shall thee teache, so may hap,\r\nThat thee were lever to be taken in Frise, <3>\r\nThan eft* to fall of wedding in the trap.                         *again\r\n\r\nThis little writ, proverbes, or figure,\r\nI sende you; take keep* of it, I read!                             *heed\r\n\u201cUnwise is he that can no weal endure;\r\nIf thou be sicker,* put thee not in dread.\u201d**      *in security **danger\r\nThe Wife of Bath I pray you that you read,\r\nOf this mattere which that we have on hand.\r\nGod grante you your life freely to lead\r\nIn freedom, for full hard is to be bond.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to L\u2019Envoy of Chaucer to Bukton.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Tyrwhitt, founding on the reference to the Wife of Bath,\r\nplaces this among Chaucer\u2019s latest compositions; and states that\r\none Peter de Bukton held the office of king\u2019s escheator for\r\nYorkshire in 1397. In some of the old editions, the verses were\r\nmade the Envoy to the Book of the Duchess Blanche \u2014 in very\r\nbad taste, when we consider that the object of that poem was to\r\nconsole John of Gaunt under the loss of his wife.\r\n\r\n2. \u201cBut if they cannot contain, let them marry: for it is better to\r\nmarry than to burn.\u201d  1 Cor. vii. 9\r\n\r\n3. Lever to be taken in Frise: better to be taken prisoner in\r\nFriesland \u2014 where probably some conflict was raging at the\r\ntime.\r\n\r\n                    A BALLAD OF GENTLENESS.\r\n\r\nTHE firste stock-father of gentleness, <1>\r\nWhat man desireth gentle for to be,\r\nMust follow his trace, and all his wittes dress,*                 *apply\r\nVirtue to love, and vices for to flee;\r\nFor unto virtue longeth dignity,\r\nAnd not the reverse, safely dare I deem,\r\n*All wear he* mitre, crown, or diademe.                *whether he wear*\r\n\r\nThis firste stock was full of righteousness,\r\nTrue of his word, sober, pious, and free,\r\n*Clean of his ghost,* and loved business,               *pure of spirit*\r\nAgainst the vice of sloth, in honesty;\r\nAnd, but his heir love virtue as did he,\r\nHe is not gentle, though he riche seem,\r\nAll wear he mitre, crown, or diademe.\r\n\r\nVice may well be heir to old richess,\r\nBut there may no man, as men may well see,\r\nBequeath his heir his virtuous nobless;\r\nThat is appropried* to no degree,                    *specially reserved\r\nBut to the first Father in majesty,\r\nWhich makes his heire him that doth him queme,*                  *please\r\nAll wear he mitre, crown, or diademe.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to A Ballad of Gentleness\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The firste stock-father of gentleness: Christ\r\n\r\nTHE COMPLAINT OF CHAUCER TO HIS  PURSE.\r\n\r\nTo you, my purse, and to none other wight,\r\nComplain I, for ye be my lady dear!\r\nI am sorry now that ye be so light,\r\nFor certes ye now make me heavy cheer;\r\nMe were as lief be laid upon my bier.\r\nFor which unto your mercy thus I cry,\r\nBe heavy again, or elles must I die!\r\n\r\nNow vouchesafe this day, ere it be night,\r\nThat I of you the blissful sound may hear,\r\nOr see your colour like the sunne bright,\r\nThat of yellowness hadde peer.\r\nYe be my life! Ye be my hearte\u2019s steer!*                         *rudder\r\nQueen of comfort and of good company!\r\nBe heavy again, or elles must I die!\r\n\r\nNow, purse! that art to me my life\u2019s light\r\nAnd savour, as down in this worlde here,\r\nOut of this towne help me through your might,\r\nSince that you will not be my treasurere;\r\nFor I am shave as nigh as any frere. <1>\r\nBut now I pray unto your courtesy,\r\nBe heavy again, or elles must I die!\r\n\r\n                  Chaucer\u2019s Envoy to the King.\r\n\r\nO conqueror of Brute\u2019s Albion, <2>\r\nWhich by lineage and free election\r\nBe very king, this song to you I send;\r\nAnd ye which may all mine harm amend,\r\nHave mind upon my supplication!\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The Complaint of Chaucer to his Purse\r\n\r\n\r\n1. \u201cI am shave as nigh as any frere\u201d i.e. \u201cI am as bare of coin as\r\na friar\u2019s tonsure of hair.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. Brute, or Brutus, was the legendary first king of Britain.\r\n\r\nGOOD COUNSEL OF CHAUCER. <1>\r\n\r\nFLEE from the press, and dwell with soothfastness;\r\nSuffice thee thy good, though it be small;\r\nFor hoard hath hate, and climbing tickleness,*              *instability\r\nPress hath envy, and *weal is blent* o\u2019er all,   *prosperity is blinded*\r\nSavour* no more than thee behove shall;                *have a taste for\r\nRead* well thyself, that other folk canst read;                 *counsel\r\nAnd truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.*                    *doubt\r\n\r\nPaine thee not each crooked to redress,\r\nIn trust of her that turneth as a ball; <2>\r\nGreat rest standeth in little business:\r\nBeware also to spurn against a nail; <3>\r\nStrive not as doth a crocke* with a wall;                   *earthen pot\r\nDeeme* thyself that deemest others\u2019 deed,                         *judge\r\nAnd truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.\r\n\r\nWhat thee is sent, receive in buxomness;*                    *submission\r\nThe wrestling of this world asketh a fall;\r\nHere is no home, here is but wilderness.\r\nForth, pilgrim! Forthe beast, out of thy stall!\r\nLook up on high, and thank thy God of all!\r\n*Weive thy lust,* and let thy ghost* thee lead,             *forsake thy\r\n And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.             inclinations*\r\n                                                                 *spirit\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Good Counsel of Chaucer\r\n\r\n\r\n1. This poem is said to have been composed by Chaucer \u201cupon\r\nhis deathbed, lying in anguish.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. Her that turneth as a ball: Fortune.\r\n\r\n3. To spurn against a nail; \u201cagainst the pricks.\u201d\r\n\r\nPROVERBS OF CHAUCER. <1>\r\n\r\nWHAT should these clothes thus manifold,\r\nLo! this hot summer\u2019s day?\r\nAfter great heate cometh cold;\r\nNo man cast his pilche* away.                     *pelisse, furred cloak\r\nOf all this world the large compass\r\nWill not in mine arms twain;\r\nWho so muche will embrace,\r\nLittle thereof he shall distrain.*                                *grasp\r\n\r\nThe world so wide, the air so remuable,*                       *unstable\r\nThe silly man so little of stature;\r\nThe green of ground and clothing so mutable,\r\nThe fire so hot and subtile of nature;\r\nThe water *never in one* \u2014 what creature               *never the same*\r\nThat made is of these foure <2> thus flitting,\r\nMay steadfast be, as here, in his living?\r\n\r\nThe more I go, the farther I am behind;\r\nThe farther behind, the nearer my war\u2019s end;\r\nThe more I seek, the worse can I find;\r\nThe lighter leave, the lother for to wend; <3>\r\nThe better I live, the more out of mind;\r\nIs this fortune, *n\u2019ot I,* or infortune;*       *I know not* *misfortune\r\nThough I go loose, tied am I with a loigne.*               *line, tether\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Proverbs of Chaucer\r\n\r\n\r\n1. (Transcriber\u2019s Note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer\u2019s\r\nmay have been the author  of the first stanza of this poem, but\r\nwas not the author of the second and third).\r\n\r\n2. These foure: that is, the four elements, of which man was\r\nbelieved to be composed.\r\n\r\n3. The lighter leave, the lother for to wend: The more easy\r\n(through age) for me to depart, the less willing I am to go.\r\n\r\nVIRELAY.  <1>\r\n\r\nALONE walking\r\nIn thought plaining,\r\nAnd sore sighing;\r\n            All desolate,\r\nMe rememb\u2019ring\r\nOf my living;\r\nMy death wishing\r\n            Both early and late.\r\n\r\nInfortunate\r\nIs so my fate,\r\nThat, wot ye what?\r\n            Out of measure\r\nMy life I hate;\r\nThus desperate,\r\nIn such poor estate,\r\n            Do I endure.\r\n\r\nOf other cure\r\nAm I not sure;\r\nThus to endure\r\n            Is hard, certain;\r\nSuch is my ure,*                                            *destiny <2>\r\nI you ensure;\r\nWhat creature\r\n            May have more pain?\r\n\r\nMy truth so plain\r\nIs taken in vain,\r\nAnd great disdain\r\n            In remembrance;\r\nYet I full fain\r\nWould me complain,\r\nMe to abstain\r\n            From this penance.\r\n\r\nBut, in substance,\r\nNone alleggeance*                                           *alleviation\r\nOf my grievance\r\n            Can I not find;\r\nRight so my chance,\r\nWith displeasance,\r\nDoth me advance;\r\n            And thus an end.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Virelay\r\n\r\n\r\n1. (Transcriber\u2019s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer\r\nwas not the author of this poem)\r\n\r\n2. Ure: \u201cheur,\u201d or destiny; the same word that enters into\r\n\u201cbonheur\u201d and \u201cmalheur.\u201d (French: happiness & unhappiness)\r\n\r\n                    \u201cSINCE I FROM LOVE.\u201d <1>\r\n\r\nSINCE I from Love escaped am so fat,\r\nI ne\u2019er think to be in his prison ta\u2019en;\r\nSince I am free, I count him not a bean.\r\n\r\nHe may answer, and saye this and that;\r\nI *do no force,* I speak right as I mean;                     *care not*\r\nSince I from Love escaped am so fat.\r\n\r\nLove hath my name struck out of his slat,*                  *slate, list\r\nAnd he is struck out of my bookes clean,\r\nFor ever more; there is none other mean;\r\nSince I from Love escaped am so fat.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to \u201cSince I from Love\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n1. (Transcriber\u2019s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer\r\nwas not the author of this poem)\r\n\r\nCHAUCER\u2019S WORDS TO HIS SCRIVENER.\r\n\r\nADAM Scrivener, if ever it thee befall\r\nBoece or Troilus for to write anew,\r\nUnder thy long locks thou may\u2019st have the scall*                   *scab\r\nBut *after my making* thou write more true!             *according to my\r\nSo oft a day I must thy work renew,                           composing*\r\nIt to correct, and eke to rub and scrape;\r\nAnd all is through thy negligence and rape.*                      *haste\r\n\r\nCHAUCER\u2019S PROPHECY. <1>\r\n\r\nWHEN priestes *failen in their saws,*               *come short of their\r\nAnd lordes turne Godde\u2019s laws                                profession*\r\n                       Against the right;\r\nAnd lechery is holden as *privy solace,*                *secret delight*\r\nAnd robbery as free purchase,\r\n                      Beware then of ill!\r\nThen shall the Land of Albion\r\nTurne to confusion,\r\n                     As sometime it befell.\r\n\r\nOra pro Anglia Sancta Maria, quod Thomas Cantuaria. <2>\r\n\r\nSweet Jesus, heaven\u2019s King,\r\nFair and best of all thing,\r\nYou bring us out of this mourning,\r\nTo come to thee at our ending!\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Chaucer\u2019s Prophecy.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. 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NERO, A.x., IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM,\r\nBY\r\nRICHARD MORRIS,\r\nEDITOR OF HAMPOLE'S \"PRICKE OF CONSCIENCE,\"\r\n\"EARLY ENGLISH ALLITERATIVE POEMS,\" ETC.;\r\nMEMBER OF THE COUNCIL OF THE PHILOLOGICAL SOCIETY.\r\n\r\n\r\nSECOND EDITION, REVISED, 1869.\r\n\r\nLONDON\r\nMDCCCLXIV.\r\n\r\nJOHN CHILDS AND SON, PRINTERS.\r\n\r\n\r\n       *       *       *       *       *\r\n\r\nPREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.\r\n\r\nIn re-editing the present romance-poem I have been saved all labour of\r\ntranscription by using the very accurate text contained in Sir F. Madden's\r\n\"Syr Gawayne.\"\r\n\r\nI have not only read his copy with the manuscript, but also the\r\nproof-sheets as they came to hand, hoping by this means to give the reader\r\na text free from any errors of transcription.\r\n\r\nThe present edition differs from that of the earlier one in having the\r\ncontractions of the manuscript expanded and side-notes added to the text to\r\nenable the reader to follow with some degree of ease the author's pleasant\r\nnarrative of Sir Gawayne's adventures.\r\n\r\nThe Glossary is taken from Sir F. Madden's \"Syr Gawayne,\"[1] to which, for\r\nthe better interpretation of the text, I have made several additions, and\r\nhave, moreover, glossed nearly all the words previously left unexplained.\r\n\r\nFor a description of the Manuscript, and particulars relating to the\r\nauthorship and dialect of the present work, the reader is referred to the\r\npreface to Early English Alliterative Poems.\r\n\r\nR.M.\r\n\r\n  LONDON,\r\n  December 22, 1864.\r\n\r\n  [Footnote 1: Sir F. Madden has most generously placed at the disposal of\r\n  the Early English Text Society any of his works which it may determine to\r\n  re-edit.]\r\n\r\n       *       *       *       *       *\r\n\r\nINTRODUCTION.\r\n\r\nNo Knight of the Round Table has been so highly honoured by the old\r\nRomance-writers as Sir Gawayne, the son of Loth, and nephew to the renowned\r\nArthur. They delighted to describe him as Gawayne the good, a man matchless\r\non mould, the most gracious that under God lived, the hardiest of hand, the\r\nmost fortunate in arms, and the most polite in hall, whose knowledge,\r\nknighthood, kindly works, doings, doughtiness, and deeds of arms were known\r\nin all lands.\r\n\r\nWhen Arthur beheld the dead body of his kinsman lying on the ground bathed\r\nin blood, he is said to have exclaimed, \"O righteous God, this blood were\r\nworthy to be preserved and enshrined in gold!\" Our author, too, loves to\r\nspeak of his hero in similar terms of praise, calling him the knight\r\nfaultless in his five wits, void of every offence, and adorned with every\r\nearthly virtue. He represents him as one whose trust was in the five\r\nwounds, and in whom the five virtues which distinguished the true knight\r\nwere more firmly established than in any other on earth.\r\n\r\nThe author of the present story, who, as we know from his religious poems,\r\nhad an utter horror of moral impurity, could have chosen no better subject\r\nfor a romance in which amusement and moral instruction were to be combined.\r\nIn the following tale he shows how the true knight, though tempted sorely\r\nnot once alone, but twice, nay thrice, breaks not his vow of chastity, but\r\nturns aside the tempter's shafts with the shield of purity and arm of\r\nfaith, and so passes scatheless through the perilous defile of trial and\r\nopportunity seeming safe.\r\n\r\nBut while our author has borrowed many of the details of his story from the\r\n\"Roman de Perceval\" by Chrestien de Troyes, he has made the narrative more\r\nattractive by the introduction of several original and highly interesting\r\npassages which throw light on the manners and amusements of our ancestors.\r\n\r\nThe following elaborate descriptions are well deserving of especial\r\nnotice:--\r\n\r\n    I. The mode of completely arming a knight (ll. 568-589).\r\n\r\n    II. The hunting and breaking the deer (ll. 1126-1359).\r\n\r\n    III. The hunting and unlacing the wild boar (ll. 1412-1614).\r\n\r\n    IV. A fox hunt (ll. 1675-1921).\r\n\r\nThe following is an outline of the story of Gawayne's adventures, more or\r\nless in the words of the writer himself:--\r\n\r\n    Arthur, the greatest of Britain's kings, holds the Christmas festival\r\n    at Camelot, surrounded by the celebrated knights of the Round Table,\r\n    noble lords, the most renowned under heaven, and ladies the loveliest\r\n    that ever had life (ll. 37-57). This noble company celebrate the New\r\n    Year by a religious service, by the bestowal of gifts, and the most\r\n    joyous mirth. Lords and ladies take their seats at the table--Queen\r\n    Guenever, the grey-eyed, gaily dressed, sits at the da\u00efs, the high\r\n    table, or table of state, where too sat Gawayne and Ywain together with\r\n    other worthies of the Round Table (ll. 58-84, 107-115). Arthur, in mood\r\n    as joyful as a child, his blood young and his brain wild, declares that\r\n    he will not eat nor sit long at the table until some adventurous thing,\r\n    some uncouth tale, some great marvel, or some encounter of arms has\r\n    occurred to mark the return of the New Year (ll. 85-106).\r\n\r\n    The first course was announced with cracking of trumpets, with the\r\n    noise of nakers and noble pipes.\r\n\r\n      \"Each two had dishes twelve,\r\n      Good beer and bright wine both.\"\r\n\r\n    Scarcely was the first course served when another noise than that of\r\n    music was heard. There rushes in at the hall-door a knight of gigantic\r\n    stature--the greatest on earth--in measure high. He was clothed\r\n    entirely in green, and rode upon a green foal (ll. 116-178). Fair wavy\r\n    hair fell about the shoulders of the Green Knight, and a great beard\r\n    like a bush hung upon his breast (ll. 179-202).\r\n\r\n    The knight carried no helmet, shield, or spear, but in one hand a holly\r\n    bough, and in the other an axe \"huge and unmeet,\" the edge of which was\r\n    as keen as a sharp razor (ll. 203-220). Thus arrayed, the Green Knight\r\n    enters the hall without saluting any one. The first word that he\r\n    uttered was, \"Where is the govenour of this gang? gladly would I see\r\n    him and with himself speak reason.\" To the knights he cast his eye,\r\n    looking for the most renowned. Much did the noble assembly marvel to\r\n    see a man and a horse of such a hue, green as the grass. Even greener\r\n    they seemed than green enamel on bright gold. Many marvels had they\r\n    seen, but none such as this. They were afraid to answer, but sat\r\n    stone-still in a dead silence, as if overpowered by sleep;\r\n\r\n      \"Not all from fear, but some for courtesy\" (ll. 221-249).\r\n\r\n    Then Arthur before the high da\u00efs salutes the Green Knight, bids him\r\n    welcome, and entreats him to stay awhile at his Court. The knight says\r\n    that his errand is not to abide in any dwelling, but to seek the most\r\n    valiant of the heroes of the Round Table that he may put his courage to\r\n    the proof, and thus satisfy himself as to the fame of Arthur's court.\r\n    \"I come,\" he says, \"in peace, as ye may see by this branch that I bear\r\n    here. Had I come with hostile intentions, I should not have left my\r\n    hauberk, helmet, shield, sharp spear, and other weapons behind me. But\r\n    because I desire no war, 'my weeds are softer.' If thou be so bold as\r\n    all men say, thou wilt grant me the request I am about to make.\" \"Sir\r\n    courteous knight,\" replies Arthur, \"if thou cravest battle only, here\r\n    failest thou not to fight.\" \"Nay,\" says the Green Knight, \"I seek no\r\n    fighting. Here about on this bench are only beardless children. Were I\r\n    arrayed in arms on a high steed no man here would be a match for me\r\n    (ll. 250-282). But it is now Christmas time, and this is the New Year,\r\n    and I see around me many brave ones;--if any be so bold in his blood\r\n    that dare strike a stroke for another, I shall give him this rich axe\r\n    to do with it whatever he pleases. I shall abide the first blow just as\r\n    I sit, and will stand him a stroke, stiff on this floor, provided that\r\n    I deal him another in return.\r\n\r\n      And yet give I him respite,\r\n      A twelvemonth and a day;\r\n      Now haste and let see tite (soon)\r\n      Dare any here-in ought say.'\"\r\n\r\n    If he astounded them at first, much more so did he after this speech,\r\n    and fear held them all silent. The knight, righting himself in his\r\n    saddle, rolls fiercely his red eyes about, bends his bristly green\r\n    brows, and strokes his beard awaiting a reply. But finding none that\r\n    would carp with him, he exclaims, \"What! is this Arthur's house, the\r\n    fame of which has spread through so many realms? Forsooth, the renown\r\n    of the Round Table is overturned by the word of one man's speech, for\r\n    all tremble for dread without a blow being struck!\" (ll. 283-313). With\r\n    this he laughed so loud that Arthur blushed for very shame, and waxed\r\n    as wroth as the wind. \"I know no man,\" he says, \"that is aghast at thy\r\n    great words. Give me now thy axe and I will grant thee thy request!\"\r\n    Arthur seizes the axe, grasps the handle, and sternly brandishes it\r\n    about, while the Green Knight, with a stern cheer and a dry\r\n    countenance, stroking his beard and drawing down his coat, awaits the\r\n    blow (ll. 314-335). Sir Gawayne, the nephew of the king, beseeches his\r\n    uncle to let him undertake the encounter; and, at the earnest entreaty\r\n    of his nobles, Arthur consents \"to give Gawayne the game\" (ll.\r\n    336-365).\r\n\r\n    Sir Gawayne then takes possession of the axe, but, before the blow is\r\n    dealt, the Green Knight asks the name of his opponent. \"In good faith,\"\r\n    answers the good knight, \"Gawayne I am called, that bids thee to this\r\n    buffet, whatever may befall after, and at this time twelvemonth will\r\n    take from thee another, with whatever weapon thou wilt, and with no\r\n    wight else alive.\" \"By Gog,\" quoth the Green Knight, \"it pleases me\r\n    well that I shall receive at thy fist that which I have sought\r\n    here--moreover thou hast truly rehearsed the terms of the\r\n    covenant,--but thou shalt first pledge me thy word that thou wilt seek\r\n    me thyself, wheresoever on earth thou believest I may be found, and\r\n    fetch thee such wages as thou dealest me to-day before this company of\r\n    doughty ones.\" \"Where should I seek thee?\" replies Gawayne, \"where is\r\n    thy place? I know not thee, thy court, or thy name. I wot not where\r\n    thou dwellest, but teach me thereto, tell me how thou art called, and I\r\n    shall endeavour to find thee,--and that I swear thee for truth and by\r\n    my sure troth.\" \"That is enough in New Year,\" says the groom in green,\r\n    \"if I tell thee when I have received the tap. When thou hast smitten\r\n    me, then smartly I will teach thee of my house, my home, and my own\r\n    name, so that thou mayest follow my track and fulfil the covenant\r\n    between us. If I spend no speech, then speedest thou the better, for\r\n    then mayest thou remain in thy own land and seek no further; but cease\r\n    thy talking[1] (ll. 366-412). Take now thy grim tool to thee and let us\r\n    see how thou knockest.\" \"Gladly, sir, for sooth,\" quoth Gawayne, and\r\n    his axe he brandishes.\r\n\r\n      [Footnote 1: This, I think, is the true explanation of slokes.]\r\n\r\n    The Green Knight adjusts himself on the ground, bends slightly his\r\n    head, lays his long lovely locks over his crown, and lays bare his neck\r\n    for the blow. Gawayne then gripped the axe, and, raising it on high,\r\n    let it fall quickly upon the knight's neck and severed the head from\r\n    the body. The fair head fell from the neck to the earth, and many\r\n    turned it aside with their feet as it rolled forth. The blood burst\r\n    from the body, yet the knight never faltered nor fell; but boldly he\r\n    started forth on stiff shanks and fiercely rushed forward, seized his\r\n    head, and lifted it up quickly. Then he runs to his horse, the bridle\r\n    he catches, steps into his stirrups and strides aloft. His head by the\r\n    hair he holds in his hands, and sits as firmly in his saddle as if no\r\n    mishap had ailed him, though headless he was (ll. 413-439). He turned\r\n    his ugly trunk about--that ugly body that bled,--and holding the head\r\n    in his hand, he directed the face toward the \"dearest on the dais.\" The\r\n    head lifted up its eyelids and looked abroad, and thus much spoke with\r\n    its mouth as ye may now hear:\r\n\r\n    \"Loke, Gawayne, thou be prompt to go as thou hast promised, and seek\r\n    till thou find me according to thy promise made in the hearing of these\r\n    knights. Get thee to the Green Chapel, I charge thee, to fetch such a\r\n    dint as thou hast dealt, to be returned on New Year's morn. As the\r\n    Knight of the Green Chapel I am known to many, wherefore if thou\r\n    seekest thou canst not fail to find me. Therefore come, or recreant be\r\n    called.\" With a fierce start the reins he turns, rushes out of the\r\n    hall-door, his head in his hand, so that the fire of the flint flew\r\n    from the hoofs of his foal. To what kingdom he belonged knew none\r\n    there, nor knew they from whence he had come. What then?\r\n\r\n      \"The king and Gawayne there\r\n      At that green (one) they laugh and grin.\"\r\n\r\n    Though Arthur wondered much at the marvel, he let no one see that he\r\n    was at all troubled about it, but full loudly thus spake to his comely\r\n    queen with courteous speech:\r\n\r\n    \"Dear dame, to-day be never dismayed, well happens such craft at\r\n    Christmas time. I may now proceed to meat, for I cannot deny that I\r\n    have witnessed a wondrous adventure this day\" (ll. 440-475).\r\n\r\n    He looked upon Sir Gawayne and said, \"Now, sir, hang up thine axe, for\r\n    enough has it hewn.\" So the weapon was hung up on high that all might\r\n    look upon it, and \"by true title thereof tell the wonder.\" Then all the\r\n    knights hastened to their seats at the table, so did the king and our\r\n    good knight, and they were there served with all dainties, \"with all\r\n    manner of meat and minstrelsy.\"\r\n\r\n    Though words were wanting when they first to seat went, now are their\r\n    hands full of stern work, and the marvel affords them good subject for\r\n    conversation. But a year passes full quickly and never returns,--the\r\n    beginning is seldom like the end; wherefore this Christmas passed away\r\n    and the year after, and each season in turn followed after another (ll.\r\n    476-520). Thus winter winds round again, and then Gawayne thinks of his\r\n    wearisome journey (ll. 521-535). On All-hallows day Arthur entertains\r\n    right nobly the lords and ladies of his court in honour of his nephew,\r\n    for whom all courteous knights and lovely ladies were in great grief.\r\n    Nevertheless they spoke only of mirth, and, though joyless themselves,\r\n    made many a joke to cheer the good Sir Gawayne (ll. 536-565). Early on\r\n    the morrow Sir Gawayne, with great ceremony, is arrayed in his armour\r\n    (ll. 566-589), and thus completely equipped for his adventure he first\r\n    hears mass, and afterwards takes leave of Arthur, the knights of the\r\n    Round Table, and the lords and ladies of the court, who kiss him and\r\n    commend him to Christ. He bids them all good day, as he thought, for\r\n    evermore (ll. 590-669);\r\n\r\n      \"Very much was the warm water that poured from eyes that day.\"\r\n\r\n    Now rides our knight through the realms of England with no companion\r\n    but his foal, and no one to hold converse with save God alone. From\r\n    Camelot, in Somersetshire, he proceeds through Gloucestershire and the\r\n    adjoining counties into Montgomeryshire, and thence through North Wales\r\n    to Holyhead, adjoining the Isle of Anglesea (ll. 670-700), from which\r\n    he passes into the very narrow peninsula  of Wirral, in Cheshire, where\r\n    dwelt but few that loved God or man. Gawayne enquires after the Green\r\n    Knight of the Green Chapel, but all the inhabitants declare that they\r\n    have never seen \"any man of such hues of green.\"\r\n\r\n    The knight thence pursues his journey by strange paths, over hill and\r\n    moor, encountering on his way not only serpents, wolves, bulls, bears,\r\n    and boars, but wood satyrs and giants. But worse than all those,\r\n    however, was the sharp winter, \"when the cold clear water shed from the\r\n    clouds, and froze ere it might fall to the earth. Nearly slain with the\r\n    sleet he slept in his armour, more nights than enough, in naked rocks\"\r\n    (ll. 701-729).\r\n\r\n    Thus in peril and plight the knight travels on until Christmas-eve, and\r\n    to Mary he makes his moan that she may direct him to some abode. On the\r\n    morn he arrives at an immense forest, wondrously wild, surrounded by\r\n    high hills on every side, where he found hoary oaks full huge, a\r\n    hundred together. The hazel and the hawthorn intermingled were all\r\n    overgrown with moss, and upon their boughs sat many sad birds that\r\n    piteously piped for pain of the cold. Gawayne besought the Lord and\r\n    Mary to guide him to some habitation where he might hear mass (ll.\r\n    730-762). Scarcely had he crossed himself thrice, when he perceived a\r\n    dwelling in the wood set upon a hill. It was the loveliest castle he\r\n    had ever beheld. It was pitched on a prairie, with a park all about it,\r\n    enclosing many a tree for more than two miles. It shone as the sun\r\n    through the bright oaks (ll. 763-772).\r\n\r\n    Gawayne urges on his steed Gringolet, and finds himself at the \"chief\r\n    gate.\" He called aloud, and soon there appeared a \"porter\" on the wall,\r\n    who demanded his errand.\r\n\r\n    \"Good sir,\" quoth Gawayne, \"wouldst thou go to the high lord of this\r\n    house, and crave a lodging for me?\"\r\n\r\n    \"Yea, by Peter!\" replied the porter, \"well I know that thou art welcome\r\n    to dwell here as long as thou likest.\"\r\n\r\n    The drawbridge is soon let down, and the gates opened wide to receive\r\n    the knight. Many noble ones hasten to bid him welcome (ll. 773-825).\r\n    They take away his helmet, sword, and shield, and many a proud one\r\n    presses forward to do him honour. They bring him into the hall, where a\r\n    fire was brightly burning upon the hearth. Then the lord of the land[1]\r\n    comes from his chamber and welcomes Sir Gawayne, telling him that he is\r\n    to consider the place as his own. Our knight is next conducted to a\r\n    bright bower, where was noble bedding--curtains of pure silk, with\r\n    golden hems, and Tarsic tapestries upon the walls and the floors (ll.\r\n    826-859). Here the knight doffed his armour and put on rich robes,\r\n    which so well became him, that all declared that a more comely knight\r\n    Christ had never made (ll. 860-883).\r\n\r\n      [Footnote 1: Gawayne is now in the castle of the Green Knight, who,\r\n      divested of his elvish or supernatural character, appears to our\r\n      knight merely as a bold one with a beaver-hued beard.]\r\n\r\n    A table is soon raised, and Gawayne, having washed, proceeds to meat.\r\n    Many dishes are set before him--\"sews\" of various kinds, fish of all\r\n    kinds, some baked in bread, others broiled on the embers, some boiled,\r\n    and others seasoned with spices. The knight expresses himself well\r\n    pleased, and calls it a most noble and princely feast.\r\n\r\n    After dinner, in reply to numerous questions, he tells his host that he\r\n    is Gawayne, one of the Knights of the Round Table. When this was made\r\n    known great was the joy in the hall. Each one said softly to his\r\n    companion, \"Now we shall see courteous behaviour and learn the terms of\r\n    noble discourse, since we have amongst us 'that fine father of\r\n    nurture.' Truly God has highly favoured us in sending us such a noble\r\n    guest as Sir Gawayne\" (ll. 884-927). At the end of the Christmas\r\n    festival Gawayne desires to take his departure from the castle, but his\r\n    host persuades him to stay, promising to direct him to the Green Chapel\r\n    (about two miles from the castle), that he may be there by the\r\n    appointed time (ll. 1029-1082).\r\n\r\n    A covenant is made between them, the terms of which were that the lord\r\n    of the castle should go out early to the chase, that Gawayne meanwhile\r\n    should lie in his loft at his ease, then rise at his usual hour, and\r\n    afterwards sit at table with his hostess, and that at the end of the\r\n    day they should make an exchange of whatever they might obtain in the\r\n    interim. \"Whatever I win in the wood,\" says the lord, \"shall be yours,\r\n    and what thou gettest shall be mine\" (ll. 1083-1125).\r\n\r\n    Full early before daybreak the folk uprise, saddle their horses, and\r\n    truss their mails. The noble lord of the land, arrayed for riding, eats\r\n    hastily a sop, and having heard mass, proceeds with a hundred hunters\r\n    to hunt the wild deer (ll. 1126-1177).\r\n\r\n    All this time Gawayne lies in his gay bed. His nap is disturbed by a\r\n    little noise at the door, which is softly opened. He heaves up his head\r\n    out of the clothes, and, peeping through the curtains, beholds a most\r\n    lovely lady (the wife of his host). She came towards the bed, and the\r\n    knight laid himself down quickly, pretending to be asleep. The lady\r\n    stole to the bed, cast up the curtains, crept within, sat her softly on\r\n    the bed-side, and waited some time till the knight should awake. After\r\n    lurking awhile under the clothes considering what it all meant, Gawayne\r\n    unlocked his eyelids, and put on a look of surprise, at the same time\r\n    making the sign of the cross, as if afraid of some hidden danger (ll.\r\n    1178-1207). \"Good morrow, sir,\" said that fair lady, \"ye are a careless\r\n    sleeper to let one enter thus. I shall bind you in your bed, of that be\r\n    ye sure.\" \"Good morrow,\" quoth Gawayne, \"I shall act according to your\r\n    will with great pleasure, but permit me to rise that I may the more\r\n    comfortably converse with you.\" \"Nay, beau sir,\" said that sweet one,\r\n    \"ye shall not rise from your bed, for since I have caught my knight I\r\n    shall hold talk with him. I ween well that ye are Sir Gawayne that all\r\n    the world worships, whose honour and courtesy are so greatly praised.\r\n    Now ye are here, and we are alone (my lord and his men being afar off,\r\n    other men, too, are in bed, so are my maidens), and the door is safely\r\n    closed, I shall use my time well while it lasts. Ye are welcome to my\r\n    person to do with it as ye please, and I will be your servant\" (ll.\r\n    1208-1240).\r\n\r\n    Gawayne behaves most discreetly, for the remembrance of his forthcoming\r\n    adventure at the Green Chapel prevents him from thinking of love (ll.\r\n    1205-1289). At last the lady takes leave of the knight by catching him\r\n    in her arms and kissing him (ll. 1290-1307). The day passes away\r\n    merrily, and at dusk the Lord of the castle returns from the chase. He\r\n    presents the venison to Gawayne according to the previous covenant\r\n    between them. Our knight gives his host a kiss as the only piece of\r\n    good fortune that had fallen to him during the day. \"It is good,\" says\r\n    the other, \"and would be much better if ye would tell me where ye won\r\n    such bliss\" (ll. 1308-1394). \"That was not in our covenant,\" replies\r\n    Gawayne, \"so try me no more.\" After much laughing on both sides they\r\n    proceed to supper, and afterwards, while the choice wine is being\r\n    carried round, Gawayne and his host renew their agreement. Late at\r\n    night they take leave of each other and hasten to their beds. \"By the\r\n    time that the cock had crowed and cackled thrice\" the lord was up, and\r\n    after \"meat and mass\" were over the hunters make for the woods, where\r\n    they give chase to a wild boar who had grown old and mischievous (ll.\r\n    1395-1467).\r\n\r\n    While the sportsmen are hunting this \"wild swine\" our lovely knight\r\n    lies in his bed. He is not forgotten by the lady, who pays him an early\r\n    visit, seeking to make further trial of his virtues. She sits softly by\r\n    his side and tells him that he has forgotten what she taught him the\r\n    day before (ll. 1468-1486). \"I taught you of kissing,\" says she; \"that\r\n    becomes every courteous knight.\" Gawayne says that he must not take\r\n    that which is forbidden him. The lady replies that he is strong enough\r\n    to enforce his own wishes. Our knight answers that every gift not given\r\n    with a good will is worthless. His fair visitor then enquires how it is\r\n    that he who is so skilled in the true sport of love and so renowned a\r\n    knight, has never talked to her of love (ll. 1487-1524). \"You ought,\"\r\n    she says, \"to show and teach a young thing like me some tokens of\r\n    true-love's crafts; I come hither and sit here alone to learn of you\r\n    some game; do teach me of your wit while my lord is from home.\" Gawayne\r\n    replies that he cannot undertake the task of expounding true-love and\r\n    tales of arms to one who has far more wisdom than he possesses. Thus\r\n    did our knight avoid all appearance of evil, though sorely pressed to\r\n    do what was wrong (ll. 1525-1552). The lady, having bestowed two kisses\r\n    upon Sir Gawayne, takes her leave of him (ll. 1553-1557).\r\n\r\n    At the end of the day the lord of the castle returns home with the\r\n    shields and head of the wild boar. He shows them to his guest, who\r\n    declares that \"such a brawn of a beast, nor such sides of a swine,\" he\r\n    never before has seen. Gawayne takes possession of the spoil according\r\n    to covenant, and in return he bestows two kisses upon his host, who\r\n    declares that his guest has indeed been rich with \"such chaffer\" (ll.\r\n    1558-1647).\r\n\r\n    After much persuasion, Gawayne consents to stop at the castle another\r\n    day (ll. 1648-1685). Early on the morrow the lord and his men hasten to\r\n    the woods, and come upon the track of a fox, the hunting of which\r\n    affords them plenty of employment and sport (ll. 1686-1730). Meanwhile\r\n    our good knight sleeps soundly within his comely curtains. He is again\r\n    visited by the lady of the castle. So gaily was she attired, and so\r\n    \"faultless of her features,\" that great joy warmed the heart of Sir\r\n    Gawayne. With soft and pleasant smiles \"they smite into mirth,\" and are\r\n    soon engaged in conversation. Had not Mary thought of her knight, he\r\n    would have been in great peril (ll. 1731-1769). So sorely does the fair\r\n    one press him with her love, that he fears lest he should become a\r\n    traitor to his host. The lady enquires whether he has a mistress to\r\n    whom he has plighted his troth. The knight swears by St John that he\r\n    neither has nor desires one. This answer causes the dame to sigh for\r\n    sorrow, and telling him that she must depart, she asks for some gift,\r\n    if it were only a glove, by which she might \"think on the knight and\r\n    lessen her grief\" (ll. 1770-1800). Gawayne assures her that he has\r\n    nothing worthy of her acceptance; that he is on an \"uncouth errand,\"\r\n    and therefore has \"no men with no mails containing precious things,\"\r\n    for which he is truly sorry.\r\n\r\n    Quoth that lovesome (one)--\r\n\r\n      \"Though I had nought of yours,\r\n       Yet should ye have of mine.\r\n\r\n    Thus saying, she offers him a rich ring of red gold \"with a shining\r\n    stone standing aloft,\" that shone like the beams of the bright sun. The\r\n    knight refused the gift, as he had nothing to give in return. \"Since ye\r\n    refuse my ring,\" says the lady, \"because it seems too rich, and ye\r\n    would not be beholden to me, I shall give you my girdle that is less\r\n    valuable\" (ll. 1801-1835). But Gawayne replies that he will not accept\r\n    gold or reward of any kind, though \"ever in hot and in cold\" he will be\r\n    her true servant.\r\n\r\n    \"Do ye refuse it,\" asks the lady, \"because it seems simple and of\r\n    little value? Whoso knew the virtues that are knit therein would\r\n    estimate it more highly. For he who is girded with this green lace\r\n    cannot be wounded or slain by any man under heaven.\" The knight thinks\r\n    awhile, and it strikes him that this would be a \"jewel for the\r\n    jeopardy\" that he had to undergo at the Green Chapel. So he not only\r\n    accepts the lace, but promises to keep the possession of it a secret\r\n    (ll. 1836-1865). By that time the lady had kissed him thrice, and she\r\n    then takes \"her leave and leaves him there.\"\r\n\r\n    Gawayne rises, dresses himself in noble array, and conceals the \"love\r\n    lace\" where he might find it again. He then hies to mass, shrives him\r\n    of his misdeeds, and obtains absolution. On his return to the hall he\r\n    solaces the ladies with comely carols and all kinds of joy (ll.\r\n    1866-1892). The dark night came, and then the lord of the castle,\r\n    having slain the fox, returns to his \"dear home,\" where he finds a fire\r\n    brightly turning and his guest amusing the ladies (ll. 1893-1927).\r\n    Gawayne, in fulfilment of his agreement, kisses his host thrice.[1] \"By\r\n    Christ,\" quoth the other knight, \"ye have caught much bliss. I have\r\n    hunted all this day and nought have I got but the skin of this foul fox\r\n    (the devil have the goods!), and that is full poor for to pay for such\r\n    precious things\" (ll. 1928-1951).\r\n\r\n    After the usual evening's entertainment, Gawayne retires to rest. The\r\n    next morning, being New Year's day, is cold and stormy. Snow falls, and\r\n    the dales are full of drift. Our knight in his bed locks his eyelids,\r\n    but full little he sleeps. By each cock that crows he knows the hour,\r\n    and before day-break he calls for his chamberlain, who quickly brings\r\n    him his armour (ll. 1952-2014). While Gawayne clothed himself in his\r\n    rich weeds he forgot not the \"lace, the lady's gift,\" but with it\r\n    doubly girded his loins. He wore it not for its rich ornaments, \"but to\r\n    save himself when it behoved him to suffer,\" and as a safeguard against\r\n    sword or knife (ll. 2015-2046).\r\n\r\n    Having thanked his host and all the renowned assembly for the great\r\n    kindness he had experienced at their hands, \"he steps into stirrups and\r\n    strides aloft\" (ll. 2047-2068).\r\n\r\n    The drawbridge is let down, and the broad gates unbarred and borne open\r\n    upon both sides, and the knight, after commending the castle to Christ,\r\n    passes thereout and goes on his way accompanied by his guide, that\r\n    should teach him to turn to that place where he should receive the\r\n    much-dreaded blow. They climb over cliffs, where each hill had a hat\r\n    and a mist-cloak, until the next morn, when they find themselves on a\r\n    full high hill covered with snow. The servant bids his master remain\r\n    awhile, saying, \"I have brought you hither at this time, and now ye are\r\n    not far from that noted place that ye have so often enquired after. The\r\n    place that ye press to is esteemed full perilous, and there dwells a\r\n    man in that waste the worst upon earth, for he is stiff and stern and\r\n    loves to strike, and greater is he than any man upon middle-earth, and\r\n    his body is bigger than the best four in Arthur's house. He keeps the\r\n    Green Chapel; there passes none by that place, however proud in arms,\r\n    that he does not 'ding him to death with dint of his hand.' He is a man\r\n    immoderate and 'no mercy uses,' for be it churl or chaplain that by the\r\n    chapel rides, monk or mass-priest, or any man else, it is as pleasant\r\n    to him to kill them as to go alive himself. Wherefore I tell thee\r\n    truly, 'come ye there, ye be killed, though ye had twenty lives to\r\n    spend. He has dwelt there long of yore, and on field much sorrow has\r\n    wrought. Against his sore dints ye may not defend you' (ll. 2069-2117).\r\n    Therefore, good Sir Gawayne, let the man alone, and for God's sake go\r\n    by some other path, and then I shall hie me home again. I swear to you\r\n    by\r\n\r\n    [Footnote 1: He only in part keeps to his covenant, as he holds back\r\n    the love-lace.]\r\n\r\n    God and all His saints that I will never say that ever ye attempted to\r\n    flee from any man.\"\r\n\r\n    Gawayne thanks his guide for his well-meant kindness, but declares that\r\n    to the Green Chapel he will go, though the owner thereof be \"a stern\r\n    knave,\" for God can devise means to save his servants.\r\n\r\n    \"Mary!\" quoth the other, \"since it pleases thee to lose thy life I will\r\n    not hinder thee. Have thy helmet on thy head, thy spear in thy hand,\r\n    and ride down this path by yon rock-side, till thou be brought to the\r\n    bottom of the valley. Then look a little on the plain, on thy left\r\n    hand, and thou shalt see in that slade the chapel itself, and the burly\r\n    knight that guards it (ll. 2118-2148). Now, farewell Gawayne the noble!\r\n    for all the gold upon ground I would not go with thee nor bear thee\r\n    fellowship through this wood 'on foot farther.'\" Thus having spoken, he\r\n    gallops away and leaves the knight alone.\r\n\r\n    Gawayne now pursues his journey, rides through the dale, and looks\r\n    about. He sees no signs of a resting-place, but only high and steep\r\n    banks, and the very shadows of the high woods seemed wild and\r\n    distorted. No chapel, however, could he discover. After a while he sees\r\n    a round hill by the side of a stream; thither he goes, alights, and\r\n    fastens his horse to the branch of a tree. He walks about the hill,\r\n    debating with himself what it might be. It had a hole in the one end\r\n    and on each side, and everywhere overgrown with grass, but whether it\r\n    was only an old cave or a crevice of an old crag he could not tell (ll.\r\n    2149-2188).\r\n\r\n    \"Now, indeed,\" quoth Gawayne, \"a desert is here; this oratory is ugly\r\n    with herbs overgrown. It is a fitting place for the man in green to\r\n    'deal here his devotions after the devil's manner.' Now I feel it is\r\n    the fiend (the devil) in my five wits that has covenanted with me that\r\n    he may destroy me. This is a chapel of misfortune--evil betide it! It\r\n    is the most cursed kirk that ever I came in.\" With his helmet on his\r\n    head, and spear in his hand, he roams up to the rock, and then he hears\r\n    from that high hill beyond the brook a wondrous wild noise. Lo! it\r\n    clattered in the cliff as if one upon a grindstone were grinding a\r\n    scythe. It whirred like the water at a mill, and rushed and re-echoed,\r\n    terrible to hear. \"Though my life I forgo,\" says Gawayne, \"no noise\r\n    shall cause me to fear.\"\r\n\r\n    Then he cried aloud, \"Who dwells in this place, discourse with me to\r\n    hold? For now is good Gawayne going right here if any brave wight will\r\n    hie him hither, either now or never\" (ll. 2189-2216).\r\n\r\n    \"Abide,\" quoth one on the bank above, over his head, \"and thou shalt\r\n    have all in haste that I promised thee once.\"\r\n\r\n    Soon there comes out of a hole in the crag, with a fell weapon a Danish\r\n    axe quite new, the \"man in the green,\" clothed as at first as his legs,\r\n    locks and beard. But now he is on foot and walks on the earth. When he\r\n    reaches the stream, he hops over and boldly strides about. He meets Sir\r\n    Gawayne, who tells him that he is quite ready to fulfil his part of the\r\n    compact. \"Gawayne,\" quoth that 'green gome' (man), \"may God preserve\r\n    thee! Truly thou art welcome to my place, 'and thou hast timed thy\r\n    travel' as a true man should. Thou knowest the covenants made between\r\n    us, at this time twelve-month, that on New Year's day I should return\r\n    thee thy blow. We are now in this valley by ourselves, and can do as we\r\n    please (ll. 2217-2246). Have, therefore, thy helmet off thy head, and\r\n    'have here thy pay.' Let us have no more talk than when thou didst\r\n    strike off my head with a single blow.\"\r\n\r\n    \"Nay, by God!\" quoth Gawayne, \"I shall not begrudge thee thy will for\r\n    any harm that may happen, but will stand still while thou strikest.\"\r\n\r\n    Then he stoops a little and shows his bare neck, unmoved by any fear.\r\n    The Green Knight takes up his \"grim tool,\" and with all his force\r\n    raises it aloft, as if he meant utterly to destroy him. As the axe came\r\n    gliding down Gawayne \"shrank a little with the shoulders from the sharp\r\n    iron.\" The other withheld his weapon, and then reproved the prince with\r\n    many proud words. \"Thou art not Gawayne that is so good esteemed, that\r\n    never feared for no host by hill nor by vale, for now thou fleest for\r\n    fear before thou feelest harm (ll. 2247-2272). Such cowardice of that\r\n    knight did I never hear. I never flinched nor fled when thou didst aim\r\n    at me in King Arthur's house. My head flew to my feet and yet I never\r\n    fled, wherefore I deserve to be called the better man.\"\r\n\r\n    Quoth Gawayne, \"I shunted once, but will do so no more, though my head\r\n    fall on the stones. But hasten and bring me to the point; deal me my\r\n    destiny, and do it out of hand, for I shall stand thee a stroke and\r\n    start no more until thine axe has hit me--have here my troth.\" \"Have at\r\n    thee, then,\" said the other, and heaves the axe aloft, and looks as\r\n    savagely as if he were mad. He aims at the other mightily, but\r\n    withholds his hand ere it might hurt. Gawayne readily abides the blow\r\n    without flinching with any member, and stood still as a stone or a tree\r\n    fixed in rocky ground with a hundred roots.\r\n\r\n    Then merrily the other did speak, \"Since now thou hast thy heart whole\r\n    it behoves me to strike, so take care of thy neck.\" Gawayne answers\r\n    with great wroth, \"Thrash on, thou fierce man, thou threatenest too\r\n    long; I believe thy own heart fails thee.\"\r\n\r\n    \"Forsooth,\" quoth the other, \"since thou speakest so boldly, I will no\r\n    longer delay\" (ll. 2273-2304). Then, contracting \"both lips and brow,\"\r\n    he made ready to strike, and let fall his axe on the bare neck of Sir\r\n    Gawayne. \"Though he hammered\" fiercely, he only \"severed the hide,\"\r\n    causing the blood to flow. When Gawayne saw his blood on the snow, he\r\n    quickly seized his helmet and placed it on his head. Then he drew out\r\n    his bright sword, and thus angrily spoke: \"Cease, man, of thy blow, bid\r\n    me no more. I have received a stroke in this place without opposition,\r\n    but if thou givest me any more readily shall I requite thee, of that be\r\n    thou sure. Our covenant stipulates one stroke, and therefore now\r\n    cease.\"\r\n\r\n    The Green Knight, resting on his axe, looks on Sir Gawayne, as bold and\r\n    fearless he there stood, and then with a loud voice thus addresses the\r\n    knight: \"Bold knight, be not so wroth, no man here has wronged thee\r\n    (ll. 2305-2339); I promised thee a stroke, and thou hast it, so hold\r\n    thee well pleased. I could have dealt much worse with thee, and caused\r\n    thee much sorrow. Two blows I aimed at thee, for twice thou kissedst my\r\n    fair wife; but I struck thee not, because thou restoredst them to me\r\n    according to agreement. At the third time thou failedst, and therefore\r\n    I have given thee that tap. That woven girdle, given thee by my own\r\n    wife, belongs to me. I know well thy kisses, thy conduct also, and the\r\n    wooing of my wife, for I wrought it myself. I sent her to try thee, and\r\n    truly methinks thou art the most faultless man that ever on foot went.\r\n    Still, sir, thou wert wanting in good faith; but as it proceeded from\r\n    no immorality, thou being only desirous of saving thy life, the less I\r\n    blame thee.\"\r\n\r\n    Gawayne stood confounded, the blood rushed into his face, and he shrank\r\n    within himself for very shame. \"Cursed,\" he cried, \"be cowardice and\r\n    covetousness both; in you are villany and vice, that virtue destroy.\"\r\n    Then he takes off the girdle and throws it to the knight in green,\r\n    cursing his cowardice and covetousness. The Green Knight, laughing,\r\n    thus spoke: \"Thou hast confessed so clean, and acknowledged thy faults,\r\n    that I hold thee as pure as thou hadst never forfeited since thou wast\r\n    first born. I give thee, sir, the gold-hemmed girdle as a token of thy\r\n    adventure at the Green Chapel. Come now to my castle, and we shall\r\n    enjoy together the festivities of the New Year\" (ll. 2340-2406).\r\n\r\n    \"Nay, forsooth,\" quoth the knight, \"but for your kindness may God\r\n    requite you. Commend me to that courteous one your comely wife, who\r\n    with her crafts has beguiled me. But it is no uncommon thing for a man\r\n    to come to sorrow through women's wiles; for so was Adam beguiled with\r\n    one, and Solomon with many. Samson was destroyed by Delilah, and David\r\n    suffered much through Bathsheba. 'It were indeed great bliss for a\r\n    man to love them well and believe them not.' Since the greatest\r\n    upon earth were so beguiled, methinks I should be excused. But God\r\n    reward you for your girdle, which I will ever wear in remembrance of my\r\n    fault, and when pride shall exalt me, a look to this love-lace shall\r\n    lessen it (ll. 2407-2438). But since ye are the lord of yonder land,\r\n    from whom I have received so much honour, tell me truly your right\r\n    name, and I shall ask no more questions.\"\r\n\r\n    Quoth the other, \"I am called Bernlak de Hautdesert, through might of\r\n    Morgain la Fay, who dwells in my house. Much has she learnt of Merlin,\r\n    who knows all your knights at home. She brought me to your hall for to\r\n    essay the prowess of the Round Table. She wrought this wonder to\r\n    bereave you of your wits, hoping to have grieved Guenever and\r\n    affrighted her to death by means of the man that spoke with his head in\r\n    his hand before the high table. She is even thine aunt, Arthur's half\r\n    sister; wherefore come to thine aunt, for all my household love thee.\"\r\n\r\n    Gawayne refuses to accompany the Green Knight, and so, with many\r\n    embraces and kind wishes, they separate--the one to his castle, the\r\n    other to Arthur's court.\r\n\r\n    After passing through many wild ways, our knight recovers from the\r\n    wound in his neck, and at last comes safe and sound to the court of\r\n    King Arthur. Great then was the joy of all; the king and queen kiss\r\n    their brave knight, and make many enquiries about his journey. He tells\r\n    them of his adventures, hiding nothing--\"the chance of the chapel, the\r\n    cheer of the knight, the love of the lady, and lastly of the lace.\"\r\n    Groaning for grief and shame he shows them the cut in his neck, which\r\n    he had received for his unfaithfulness (ll. 2439-2504). The king and\r\n    his courtiers comfort the knight--they laugh loudly at his adventures,\r\n    and unanimously agree that those lords and ladies that belonged to the\r\n    Round Table, and each knight of the brotherhood should ever after wear\r\n    a bright green belt for Gawayne's sake. And he upon whom it was\r\n    conferred honoured it evermore after.\r\n\r\n    Thus in Arthur's time this adventure befell, whereof the \"Brutus Books\"\r\n    bear witness (ll. 2505-2530).\r\n\r\nI need not say that the Brutus Books we possess do not contain the\r\nlegend here set forth, though it is not much more improbable than some of\r\nthe statements contained in them. If the reader desires to know the\r\nrelation in which this and the like stories stand to the original Arthur\r\nlegends, he will find it discussed in Sir F. Madden's Preface to his\r\nedition of \"Syr Gawayne,\" which also contains a sketch of the very\r\ndifferent views taken of Sir Gawayne by the different Romance writers.\r\n\r\nInto this and other literary questions I do not enter here, as I\r\nhave nothing to add to Sir F. Madden's statements; but in the text of the\r\nPoem I have differed from him in some few readings, which will be found\r\nnoticed in the Notes and Glossary.\r\n\r\nAs the manuscript is fast fading, I am glad that the existence of the Early\r\nEnglish Text Society has enabled us to secure a wider diffusion of its\r\ncontents before the original shall be no longer legible.\r\n\r\nWe want nothing but an increased supply of members to enable us to give to\r\na large circle of readers many an equally interesting record of Early\r\nEnglish minds.\r\n\r\n       *       *       *       *       *\r\n\r\n\r\nNOTE: The Old English \"yogh\" characters have been translated both\r\nupper and lower-case yoghs to digit 3's. There are Unicode\r\nallocations for these (in HTML &#540; and &#541;) but at present\r\nno font which implements these. Substiting the digit 3 seemed a\r\nworkable compromise which anybody can read. The linked html\r\n\"Old English 'yogh' file\" uses &#540; and &#541; representations,\r\nand is included for users with specialist fonts.\r\n\r\n\r\n       *       *       *       *       *\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nSYR GAWAYN AND THE GRENE KNY3T.\r\n\r\n[FYTTE THE FIRST.]\r\n\r\n      I.\r\n\r\n     [A] Si\u00feen \u00fee sege & \u00fee assaut wat3 sesed at Troye,         [Fol. 91a.]\r\n         \u00dee bor3 brittened & brent to bronde3 & aske3,\r\n         \u00dee tulk \u00feat \u00fee trammes of tresoun \u00feer wro3t,\r\n   4     Wat3 tried for his tricherie, \u00fee trewest on erthe;\r\n         Hit wat3 Ennias \u00fee athel, & his highe kynde,\r\n         \u00deat si\u00feen depreced prouinces, & patrounes bicome\r\n         Welne3e of al \u00fee wele in \u00fee west iles,\r\n   8 [B] Fro riche Romulus to Rome ricchis hym swy\u00fee,\r\n         With gret bobbaunce \u00feat bur3e he biges vpon fyrst,\r\n         & neuenes hit his aune nome, as hit now hat;\r\n         Ticius to Tuskan [turnes,] & teldes bigynnes;\r\n  12     Langaberde in Lumbardie lyftes vp homes;\r\n     [C] & fer ouer \u00fee French flod Felix Brutus\r\n         On mony bonkkes ful brode Bretayn he sette3,\r\n                 wyth wynne;\r\n  16 [D]     Where werre, & wrake, & wonder,\r\n             Bi sy\u00fee3 hat3 wont \u00feer-inne,\r\n     [E]     & oft bo\u00fee blysse & blunder\r\n             Ful skete hat3 skyfted synne.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: After the siege of Troy]\r\n[Sidenote B: Romulus built Rome,]\r\n[Sidenote C: and Felix Brutus founded Britain,]\r\n[Sidenote D: a land of war and wonder,]\r\n[Sidenote E: and oft of bliss and blunder.]\r\n\r\n      II.\r\n\r\n  20     Ande quen \u00feis Bretayn wat3 bigged bi \u00feis burn rych,\r\n     [A] Bolde bredden \u00feer-inne, baret \u00feat lofden,\r\n         In mony turned tyme tene \u00feat wro3ten;\r\n         Mo ferlyes on \u00feis folde han fallen here oft\r\n  24 [B] \u00deen in any o\u00feer \u00feat I wot, syn \u00feat ilk tyme.\r\n     [C] Bot of alle \u00feat here bult of Bretaygne kynges\r\n         Ay wat3 Arthur \u00fee hendest; as I haf herde telle;\r\n         For-\u00fei an aunter in erde I attle to schawe,            [Fol. 91b.]\r\n  28     \u00deat a selly in si3t summe men hit holden,\r\n         & an outtrage awenture of Arthure3 wondere3;\r\n     [D] If 3e wyl lysten \u00feis laye bot on littel quile,\r\n         I schal telle hit, as-tit, as I in toun herde,\r\n  32             with tonge;\r\n             As hit is stad & stoken,\r\n             In stori stif & stronge,\r\n             With lel letteres loken,\r\n  36         In londe so hat3 ben longe.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Bold men increased in the Land,]\r\n[Sidenote B: and many marvels happened.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Of all Britain's kings Arthur was the noblest.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Listen a while and ye shall hear the story of an \"outrageous\r\n  adventure.\"]\r\n\r\n      III.\r\n\r\n     [A] \u00deis kyng lay at Camylot vpon kryst-masse,\r\n         With mony luflych lorde, lede3 of \u00fee best,\r\n     [B] Rekenly of \u00fee rounde table alle \u00feo rich bre\u00feer,\r\n  40     With rych reuel ory3t, & rechles mer\u00fees;\r\n         \u00deer tournayed tulkes bi-tyme3 ful mony,\r\n         Iusted ful Iolil\u00e9 \u00feise gentyle kni3tes,\r\n         Sy\u00feen kayred to \u00fee court, caroles to make.\r\n  44 [C] For \u00feer \u00fee fest wat3 ilyche ful fiften dayes,\r\n         With alle \u00fee mete & \u00fee mir\u00fee \u00feat men cou\u00fee a-vyse;\r\n         Such glaumande gle glorious to here,\r\n         Dere dyn vp-on day, daunsyng on ny3tes,\r\n  48 [D] Al wat3 hap vpon he3e in halle3 & chambre3,\r\n         With lorde3 & ladies, as leuest him \u00feo3t;\r\n         With all \u00fee wele of \u00fee worlde \u00feay woned \u00feer samen,\r\n     [E] \u00dee most kyd kny3te3 vnder kryste seluen,\r\n  52     & \u00fee louelokkest ladies \u00feat euer lif haden,\r\n         & he \u00fee comlokest kyng \u00feat \u00fee court haldes;\r\n         For al wat3 \u00feis fayre folk in her first age,\r\n                 on sille;\r\n  56 [F]     \u00dee hapnest vnder heuen,\r\n             Kyng hy3est mon of wylle,\r\n             Hit were[1] now gret nye to neuen\r\n             So hardy a here on hille.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Arthur held at Camelot his Christmas feast,]\r\n[Sidenote B: with all the knights of the Round Table,]\r\n[Sidenote C: full fifteen days.]\r\n[Sidenote D: All was joy in hall and chamber,]\r\n[Sidenote E: among brave knights and lovely ladies,]\r\n[Sidenote F: the happiest under heaven.]\r\n[Footnote 1: MS. werere.]\r\n\r\n      IV.\r\n\r\n  60 [A] Wyle nw 3er wat3 so 3ep \u00feat hit wat3 nwe cummen,\r\n         \u00deat day doubble on \u00fee dece wat3 \u00fee douth serued,\r\n         Fro \u00fee kyng wat3 cummen with kny3tes in to \u00fee halle,\r\n         \u00dee chauntre of \u00fee chapel cheued to an ende;\r\n  64     Loude crye wat3 \u00feer kest of clerke3 & o\u00feer,\r\n         Nowel nayted o-newe, neuened ful ofte;                   [Fol. 92]\r\n         & sy\u00feen riche forth runnen to reche honde-selle,\r\n     [B] 3e3ed 3eres 3iftes on hi3, 3elde hem bi hond,\r\n  68     Debated busyly aboute \u00feo giftes;\r\n         Ladies la3ed ful loude, \u00feo3 \u00feay lost haden,\r\n         & he \u00feat wan wat3 not wrothe, \u00feat may 3e wel trawe.\r\n     [C] Alle \u00feis mir\u00fee \u00feay maden to \u00fee mete tyme;\r\n  72     When \u00feay had waschen, wor\u00feyly \u00feay wenten to sete,\r\n         \u00dee best burne ay abof, as hit best semed;\r\n     [D] Whene Guenore ful gay, gray\u00feed in \u00fee myddes.\r\n         Dressed on \u00fee dere des, dubbed al aboute,\r\n  76     Smal sendal bisides, a selure hir ouer\r\n         Of tryed Tolouse, of Tars tapites in-noghe,\r\n         \u00deat were enbrawded & beten wyth \u00fee best gemmes,\r\n         \u00deat my3t be preued of prys wyth penyes to bye,\r\n  80             in daye;\r\n     [E]     \u00dee comlokest to discrye,\r\n             \u00deer glent with y3en gray,\r\n             A semloker \u00feat euer he sy3e,\r\n  84         Soth mo3t no mon say.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: They celebrate the New Year with great joy.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Gifts are demanded and bestowed.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Lords and ladies take their seats at the table.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Queen Guenever appears gaily dressed.]\r\n[Sidenote E: A lady fairer of form might no one say he had ever before\r\n  seen.]\r\n\r\n      V.\r\n\r\n     [A] Bot Arthure wolde not ete til al were serued,\r\n         He wat3 so Ioly of his Ioyfnes, & sum-quat child gered,\r\n         His lif liked hym ly3t, he louied \u00fee lasse\r\n  88 [B] Au\u00feer to lenge lye, or to longe sitte,\r\n         So bi-sied him his 3onge blod & his brayn wylde;\r\n         & also ano\u00feer maner meued him eke,\r\n         \u00deat he \u00feur3 nobelay had nomen, ho wolde neuer ete\r\n  92     Vpon such a dere day, er hym deuised were\r\n     [C] Of sum auenturus \u00feyng an vncou\u00fee tale,\r\n         Of sum mayn meruayle, \u00feat he my3t trawe,\r\n         Of[1] alderes, of armes, of o\u00feer auenturus,\r\n  96     O\u00feer sum segg hym bi-so3t of sum siker kny3t,\r\n         To Ioyne wyth hym in iustyng in Iopard\u00e9 to lay,\r\n         Lede lif for lyf, leue vchon o\u00feer,\r\n         As fortune wolde fulsun hom \u00fee fayrer to haue.\r\n 100     \u00deis wat3 [\u00fee] kynges countenaunce where he in court were,\r\n         At vch farand fest among his fre meny,\r\n                 in halle;                                      [Fol. 92b.]\r\n     [D]     \u00deer-fore of face so fere.\r\n 104         He sti3tle3 stif in stalle,\r\n             Ful 3ep in \u00feat nw 3ere,\r\n             Much mirthe he mas with alle.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Arthur would not eat,]\r\n[Sidenote B: nor would he long sit]\r\n[Sidenote C: until he had witnessed a \"wondrous adventure\" of some kind.]\r\n[Sidenote D: He of face so bold makes much mirth with all.]\r\n[Footnote 1: Of of, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      VI.\r\n\r\n     [A] Thus \u00feer stondes in stale \u00fee stif kyng his-seluen,\r\n 108     Talkkande bifore \u00fee hy3e table of trifles ful hende\r\n     [B] There gode Gawan wat3 gray\u00feed, Gwenore bisyde\r\n     [C] & Agrauayn a la dure mayn on \u00feat o\u00feer syde sittes\r\n         Bo\u00fee \u00fee kynges sister sunes, & ful siker kni3tes;\r\n 112 [D] Bischop Bawdewyn abof bi-gine3 \u00fee table,\r\n     [E] & Ywan, Vryn son, ette wit hym-seluen;\r\n         \u00deise were di3t on \u00fee des, & derwor\u00fely serued,\r\n         & si\u00feen mony siker segge at \u00fee sidborde3.\r\n 116 [F] \u00deen \u00fee first cors come with crakkyng of trumpes,\r\n         Wyth mony baner ful bry3t, \u00feat \u00feer-bi henged,\r\n         Nwe nakryn noyse with \u00fee noble pipes,\r\n         Wylde werbles & wy3t wakned lote,\r\n 120     \u00deat mony hert ful hi3e hef at her towches;\r\n     [G] Dayntes dryuen \u00feer-wyth of ful dere metes,\r\n         Foysoun of \u00fee fresche, & on so fele disches,\r\n         \u00deat pine to fynde \u00fee place \u00fee peple bi-forne\r\n 124     For to sette \u00fee syluener,[1] \u00feat sere sewes halden,\r\n                 on clothe;\r\n             Iche lede as he loued hym-selue\r\n             \u00deer laght with-outen lo\u00fee,\r\n 128 [H]     Ay two had disches twelue,\r\n     [I]     Good ber, & bry3t wyn bo\u00fee.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The king talks with his knights.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Gawayne,]\r\n[Sidenote C: Agravayn,]\r\n[Sidenote D: Bishop Bawdewyn,]\r\n[Sidenote E: and Ywain sit on the dais.]\r\n[Sidenote F: The first course is served with cracking of trumpets.]\r\n[Sidenote G: It consisted of all dainties in season.]\r\n[Sidenote H: Each two had dishes twelve,]\r\n[Sidenote I: good beer and bright wine both.]\r\n[Footnote 1: svlueren (?) (dishes).]\r\n\r\n      VII.\r\n\r\n     [A] Now wyl I of hor seruise say yow no more,\r\n         For veh wy3e may wel wit no wont \u00feat \u00feer were;\r\n 132 [B] An o\u00feer noyse ful newe ne3ed biliue,\r\n         \u00deat \u00fee lude my3t haf leue lif-lode to cach.\r\n         For vne\u00fee wat3 \u00fee noyce not a whyle sesed,\r\n         & \u00fee fyrst cource in \u00fee court kyndely serued,\r\n 136 [C] \u00deer hales in at \u00fee halle dor an aghlich mayster,\r\n         On \u00fee most on \u00fee molde on mesure hyghe;\r\n         Fro \u00fee swyre to \u00fee swange so sware & so \u00feik,\r\n     [D] & his lyndes & his lymes so longe & so grete,\r\n 140     Half etayn in erde I hope \u00feat he were.                  [Fol. 93.]\r\n     [E] Bot mon most I algate mynn hym to bene,\r\n         & \u00feat \u00fee myriest in his muckel \u00feat my3t ride;\r\n     [F] For of bak & of brest al were his bodi sturne,\r\n 144 [G] Bot his wombe & his wast were worthily smale,\r\n         & alle his fetures fol3ande, in forme \u00feat he hade,\r\n                 ful clene;\r\n             For wonder of his hwe men hade,\r\n 148         Set in his semblaunt sene;\r\n             He ferde as freke were fade,\r\n             & ouer-al enker grene.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: There was no want of anything.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Scarcely had the first course commenced,]\r\n[Sidenote C: when there rushes in at the hall-door a knight;]\r\n[Sidenote D: the tallest on earth]\r\n[Sidenote E: he must have been.]\r\n[Sidenote F: His back and breast were great,]\r\n[Sidenote G: but his belly and waist were small.]\r\n\r\n      VIII.\r\n\r\n     [A] Ande al gray\u00feed in grene \u00feis gome & his wedes,\r\n 152     A strayt cote ful stre3t, \u00feat stek on his sides,\r\n         A mere mantile abof, mensked with-inne,\r\n         With pelure pured apert \u00fee pane ful clene,\r\n         With bly\u00fee blaunner ful bry3t, & his hod bo\u00fee,\r\n 156     \u00deat wat3 la3t fro his lokke3, & layde on his schulderes\r\n         Heme wel haled, hose of \u00feat same grene,\r\n     [B] \u00deat spenet on his sparlyr, & clene spures vnder,\r\n         Of bry3t golde, vpon silk bordes, barred ful ryche\r\n 160     & scholes vnder schankes, \u00feere \u00fee schalk rides;\r\n         & alle his vesture uerayly wat3 clene verdure,\r\n         Bo\u00fee \u00fee barres of his belt & o\u00feer bly\u00fee stones,\r\n         \u00deat were richely rayled in his aray clene,\r\n 164 [C] Aboutte hym-self & his sadel, vpon silk werke3,\r\n         \u00deat were to tor for to telle of tryfles \u00fee halue,\r\n         \u00deat were enbrauded abof, wyth bryddes & fly3es,\r\n         With gay gaudi of grene, \u00fee golde ay in myddes;\r\n 168     \u00dee pendauntes of his payttrure, \u00fee proude cropure\r\n         His molaynes, & alle \u00fee metail anamayld was \u00feenne\r\n         \u00dee steropes \u00feat he stod on, stayned of \u00fee same,\r\n         & his arsoun3 al after, & his a\u00feel sturtes,\r\n 172     \u00deat euer glemered[1] & glent al of grene stones.\r\n     [D] \u00dee fole \u00feat he ferkkes on, fyn of \u00feat ilke,\r\n                 sertayn;\r\n             A grene hors gret & \u00feikke,\r\n 176 [E]     A stede ful stif to strayne,\r\n             In brawden brydel quik,\r\n             To \u00fee gome he wat3 ful gayn.                       [Fol. 93b.]\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: He was clothed entirely in green.]\r\n[Sidenote B: His spurs were of bright gold.]\r\n[Sidenote C: His saddle was embroidered with birds and flies.]\r\n[Sidenote D: The foal that he rode upon was green;]\r\n[Sidenote E: it was a steed full stiff to guide.]\r\n[Footnote 1: glemed (?).]\r\n\r\n      IX.\r\n\r\n     [A] Wel gay wat3 \u00feis gome gered in grene,\r\n 180     & \u00fee here of his hed of his hors swete;\r\n         Fayre fannand fax vmbe-foldes his schulderes;\r\n     [B] A much berd as[1] a busk ouer his brest henges,\r\n         \u00deat wyth his hi3lich here, \u00feat of his hed reches,\r\n 184     Wat3 euesed al vmbe-torne, a-bof his elbowes,\r\n         \u00deat half his armes \u00feer vnder were halched in \u00fee wyse\r\n         Of a kynge3 capados, \u00feat closes his swyre.\r\n     [C] \u00dee mane of \u00feat mayn hors much to hit lyke,\r\n 188     Wel cresped & cemmed wyth knottes ful mony,\r\n         Folden in wyth fildore aboute \u00fee fayre grene,\r\n         Ay a herle of \u00fee here, an o\u00feer of golde;\r\n     [D] \u00dee tayl & his toppyng twynnen of a sute,\r\n 192     & bounden bo\u00fee wyth a bande of a bry3t grene,\r\n         Dubbed wyth ful dere stone3, as \u00fee dok lasted,\r\n         Sy\u00feen \u00ferawen wyth a \u00fewong a \u00fewarle knot alofte,\r\n         \u00deer mony belle3 ful bry3t of brende golde rungen.\r\n 196 [E] Such a fole vpon folde, ne freke \u00feat hym rydes,\r\n         Wat3 neuer sene in \u00feat sale wyth sy3t er \u00feat tyme,\r\n                 with y3e;\r\n             He loked as layt so ly3t,\r\n 200         So sayd al \u00feat hym sy3e,\r\n     [F]     Hit semed as no mon my3t,\r\n             Vnder his dyntte3 dry3e.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Gaily was the knight attired.]\r\n[Sidenote B: His great beard, like a bush, hung on his breast.]\r\n[Sidenote C: The horse's mane was decked with golden threads.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Its tail was bound with a green band.]\r\n[Sidenote E: Such a foal nor a knight were never before seen.]\r\n[Sidenote F: It seemed that no man might endure his dints.]\r\n[Footnote 1: as as, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      X.\r\n\r\n     [A] Whe\u00feer hade he no helme ne hawb[e]rgh nau\u00feer,\r\n 204     Ne no pysan, ne no plate \u00feat pented to armes,\r\n         Ne no schafte, ne no schelde, to schwne ne to smyte,\r\n     [B] Bot in his on honde he hade a holyn bobbe,\r\n         \u00deat is grattest in grene, when greue3 ar bare,\r\n 208 [C] & an ax in his o\u00feer, a hoge & vn-mete,\r\n         A spetos spar\u00fee to expoun in spelle quo-so my3t;\r\n         \u00dee hede of an eln3erde \u00fee large lenk\u00fee hade,\r\n         \u00dee grayn al of grene stele & of golde hewen,\r\n 212 [D] \u00dee bit burnyst bry3t, with a brod egge,\r\n         As wel schapen to schere as scharp rasores;\r\n         \u00dee stele of a stif staf \u00fee sturne hit bi-grypte,\r\n         \u00deat wat3 wounden wyth yrn to \u00fee wande3 ende,            [Fol. 94.]\r\n 216 [E] & al bigrauen with grene, in gracios[1] werkes;\r\n         A lace lapped aboute, \u00feat louked at \u00fee hede,\r\n         & so after \u00fee halme halched ful ofte,\r\n         Wyth tryed tassele3 \u00feerto tacched in-noghe,\r\n 220 [F] On botoun3 of \u00fee bry3t grene brayden ful ryche.\r\n         \u00deis ha\u00feel helde3 hym in, & \u00fee halle entres,\r\n         Driuande to \u00fee he3e dece, dut he no wo\u00fee,\r\n     [G] Haylsed he neuer one, bot he3e he ouer loked.\r\n 224     \u00dee fyrst word \u00feat he warp, \"wher is,\" he sayd,\r\n     [H] \"\u00dee gouernour of \u00feis gyng? gladly I wolde\r\n         Se \u00feat segg in sy3t, & with hym self speke\r\n                 raysoun.\"\r\n 228         To kny3te3 he kest his y3e,\r\n             & reled hym vp & doun,\r\n     [I]     He stemmed & con studie,\r\n             Quo walt \u00feer most renoun.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The knight carried neither spear nor shield,]\r\n[Sidenote B: In one hand was a holly bough,]\r\n[Sidenote C: in the other an axe,]\r\n[Sidenote D: the edge of which was as keen as a sharp razor,]\r\n[Sidenote E: and the handle was encased in iron, curiously \"graven with\r\n  green, in gracious works.\"]\r\n[Sidenote F: Thus arrayed the Green Knight enters the hall,]\r\n[Sidenote G: without saluting any one.]\r\n[Sidenote H: He asks for the \"governor\" of the company,]\r\n[Sidenote I: and looks for the most renowned.]\r\n[Footnote 1: looks like gracons in MS.]\r\n\r\n      XI.\r\n\r\n 232 [A] Ther wat3 lokyng on len\u00fee, \u00fee lude to be-holde,\r\n         For vch mon had meruayle quat hit mene my3t,\r\n         \u00deat a ha\u00feel & a horse my3t such a hwe lach,\r\n     [B] As growe grene as \u00fee gres & grener hit semed,\r\n 236     \u00deen grene aumayl on golde lowande bry3ter;\r\n         Al studied \u00feat \u00feer stod, & stalked hym nerre,\r\n     [C] Wyth al \u00fee wonder of \u00fee worlde, what he worch schulde.\r\n         For fele sellye3 had \u00feay sen, bot such neuer are,\r\n 240     For-\u00fei for fantoum & fayry3e \u00fee folk \u00feere hit demed;\r\n     [D] \u00deer-fore to answare wat3 ar3e mony a\u00feel freke,\r\n         & al stouned at his steuen, & stonstil seten,\r\n     [E] In a swoghe sylence \u00feur3 \u00fee sale riche\r\n 244     As al were slypped vpon slepe so slaked hor lote3\r\n                 in hy3e;\r\n             I deme hit not al for doute,\r\n     [F]     Bot sum for cortaysye,\r\n 248         Bot let hym \u00feat al schulde loute,\r\n             Cast vnto \u00feat wy3e.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Much they marvel to see a man and a horse]\r\n[Sidenote B: as green as grass.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Never before had they seen such a sight as this.]\r\n[Sidenote D: They were afraid to answer,]\r\n[Sidenote E: and were as silent as if sleep had taken possession of them;]\r\n[Sidenote F: some from fear and others from courtesy.]\r\n\r\n      XII.\r\n\r\n     [A] \u00deenn Ar\u00feour bifore \u00fee hi3 dece \u00feat auenture byholde3,\r\n         & rekenly hym reuerenced, for rad was he neuer,\r\n 252     & sayde, \"wy3e, welcum iwys to \u00feis place,\r\n     [B] \u00dee hede of \u00feis ostel Arthour I hat,                    [Fol. 94b.]\r\n         Li3t luflych adoun, & lenge, I \u00fee praye,\r\n         & quat so \u00fey wylle is, we schal wyt after.\"\r\n 256 [C] \"Nay, as help me,\" quod \u00fee ha\u00feel, \"he \u00feat on hy3e syttes,\r\n         To wone any quyle in \u00feis won, hit wat3 not myn ernde;\r\n         Bot for \u00fee los of \u00fee lede is lyft vp so hy3e,\r\n         & \u00fey bur3 & \u00fey burnes best ar holden,\r\n 260     Stifest vnder stel-gere on stedes to ryde,\r\n     [D] \u00dee wy3test & \u00fee wor\u00feyest of \u00fee worldes kynde,\r\n         Preue for to play wyth in o\u00feer pure layke3;\r\n         & here is kydde cortaysye, as I haf herd carp,\r\n 264     & \u00feat hat3 wayned me hider, I-wyis, at \u00feis tyme.\r\n         3e may be seker bi \u00feis braunch \u00feat I bere here,\r\n     [E] \u00deat I passe as in pes, & no ply3t seche;\r\n         For had I founded in fere, in fe3tyng wyse,\r\n 268 [F] I haue a hauberghe at home & a helme bo\u00fee,\r\n         A schelde, & a scharp spere, schinande bry3t,\r\n         Ande o\u00feer weppenes to welde, I wene wel als,\r\n         Bot for I wolde no were, my wede3 ar softer.\r\n 272     Bot if \u00feou be so bold as alle burne3 tellen,\r\n         \u00deou wyl grant me godly \u00fee gomen \u00feat I ask,\r\n                 bi ry3t.\"\r\n     [G]     Arthour con onsware,\r\n 276         & sayd, \"sir cortays kny3t,\r\n             If \u00feou craue batayl bare,\r\n             Here fayle3 \u00feou not to fy3t.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Arthur salutes the Green Knight.]\r\n[Sidenote B: bids him welcome, and invites him to stay awhile.]\r\n[Sidenote C: The knight says that he will not tarry.]\r\n[Sidenote D: He seeks the most valiant that he may prove him.]\r\n[Sidenote E: He comes in peace.]\r\n[Sidenote F: At home, however, he has both shield and spear.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Arthur assures him that he shall not fail to find an opponent\r\n  worthy of him.]\r\n\r\n      XIII.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"Nay, frayst I no fy3t, in fayth I \u00fee telle,\r\n 280 [B] Hit arn aboute on \u00feis bench bot berdle3 chylder;\r\n         If I were hasped in armes on a he3e stede,\r\n     [C] Here is no mon me to mach, for my3te3 so[1] wayke.\r\n         For-\u00fey I craue in \u00feis court a crystmas gomen,\r\n 284 [D] For hit is 3ol & nwe 3er, & here ar 3ep mony;\r\n         If any so hardy in \u00feis hous holde3 hym-seluen,\r\n     [E] Be so bolde in his blod, brayn in hys hede,\r\n         \u00deat dar stifly strike a strok for an o\u00feer,\r\n 288     I schal gif hym of my gyft \u00feys giserne ryche,\r\n     [F] \u00deis ax, \u00feat is heu\u00e9 in-nogh, to hondele as hym lykes,\r\n         & I schal bide \u00fee fyrst bur, as bare as I sitte.        [Fol. 95.]\r\n         If any freke be so felle to fonde \u00feat I telle,\r\n 292     Lepe ly3tly me to, & lach \u00feis weppen,\r\n         I quit clayme hit for euer, kepe hit as his auen,\r\n     [G] & I schal stonde hym a strok, stif on \u00feis flet,\r\n         Elle3 \u00feou wyl di3t me \u00fee dom to dele hym an o\u00feer,\r\n 296             barlay;\r\n             & 3et gif hym respite,\r\n     [H]     A twelmonyth & a day;--\r\n             Now hy3e, & let se tite\r\n 300         Dar any her-inne o3t say.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"I seek no fight,\" says the knight.]\r\n[Sidenote B: \"'Here are only beardless children.']\r\n[Sidenote C: Here is no man to match me.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Here are brave ones many,]\r\n[Sidenote E: if any be bold enough to 'strike a stroke for another,']\r\n[Sidenote F: this axe shall be his;]\r\n[Sidenote G: but I shall give him a 'stroke' in return]\r\n[Sidenote H: within a twelvemonth and a day.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: MS. fo.]\r\n\r\n      XIV.\r\n\r\n     [A] If he hem stowned vpon fyrst, stiller were \u00feanne\r\n         Alle \u00fee hered-men in halle, \u00fee hy3 & \u00fee lo3e;\r\n     [B] \u00dee renk on his rounce hym ruched in his sadel,\r\n 304     & runisch-ly his rede y3en he reled aboute,\r\n     [C] Bende his bresed bro3e3, bly-cande grene,\r\n     [D] Wayued his berde for to wayte quo-so wolde ryse.\r\n         When non wolde kepe hym with carp he co3ed ful hy3e,\r\n 308     Ande rimed hym ful richley, & ry3t hym to speke:\r\n     [E] \"What, is \u00feis Ar\u00feures hous,\" quod \u00fee ha\u00feel \u00feenne,\r\n         \"\u00deat al \u00fee rous rennes of, \u00feur3 ryalmes so mony?\r\n         Where is now your sourquydrye & your conquestes,\r\n 312     Your gry[n]del-layk, & your greme, & your grete wordes?\r\n     [F] Now is \u00fee reuel & \u00fee renoun of \u00fee rounde table\r\n         Ouer-walt wyth a worde of on wy3es speche;\r\n         For al dares for drede, with-oute dynt schewed!\"\r\n 316     Wyth \u00feis he la3es so loude, \u00feat \u00fee lorde greued;\r\n     [G] \u00dee blod schot for scham in-to his schyre face\r\n                 & lere;\r\n     [H]     He wex as wroth as wynde,\r\n 320         So did alle \u00feat \u00feer were\r\n             \u00dee kyng as kene bi kynde,\r\n             \u00deen stod \u00feat stif mon nere.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Fear kept all silent.]\r\n[Sidenote B: The knight rolled his red eyes about,]\r\n[Sidenote C: and bent his bristly green brows.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Waving his beard awhile, he exclaimed:]\r\n[Sidenote E: \"What! is this Arthur's court?]\r\n[Sidenote F: Forsooth the renown of the Round Table is overturned 'with a\r\n  word of one man's speech.'\"]\r\n[Sidenote G: Arthur blushes for shame.]\r\n[Sidenote H: He waxes as wroth as the wind.]\r\n\r\n      XV.\r\n\r\n     [A] Ande sayde, \"ha\u00feel, by heuen \u00feyn askyng is nys,\r\n 324     & as \u00feou foly hat3 frayst, fynde \u00fee be-houes;\r\n         I know no gome \u00feat is gast of \u00fey grete wordes.\r\n         Gif me now \u00fey geserne, vpon gode3 halue,\r\n         & I schal bay\u00feen \u00fey bone, \u00feat \u00feou boden habbes.\"\r\n 328     Ly3tly lepe3 he hym to, & la3t at his honde;           [Fol. 95b.]\r\n         \u00deen feersly \u00feat o\u00feer freke vpon fote ly3tis.\r\n     [B] Now hat3 Arthure his axe, & \u00fee halme grype3,\r\n         & sturnely sture3 hit aboute, \u00feat stryke wyth hit \u00feo3t.\r\n 332     \u00dee stif mon hym bifore stod vpon hy3t,\r\n         Herre \u00feen ani in \u00fee hous by \u00fee hede & more;\r\n     [C] Wyth sturne schere[1] \u00feer he stod, he stroked his berde,\r\n         & wyth a countenaunce dry3e he dro3 doun his cote,\r\n 336     No more mate ne dismayd for hys mayn dinte3,\r\n         \u00deen any burne vpon bench hade bro3t hym to drynk\r\n                 of wyne,\r\n     [D]     Gawan, \u00feat sate bi \u00fee quene,\r\n 340         To \u00fee kyng he can enclyne,\r\n             \"I be-seche now with sa3e3 sene,\r\n             \u00deis melly mot be myne.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: He assures the knight that no one is afraid of his great\r\n  words.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Arthur seizes his axe.]\r\n[Sidenote C: The knight, stroking his beard, awaits the blow, and with a\r\n  \"dry countenance\" draws down his coat.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Sir Gawayne beseeches the king to let him undertake the blow.]\r\n[Footnote 1: chere (?).]\r\n\r\n      XVI.\r\n\r\n         \"Wolde 3e, wor\u00feilych lorde,\" quod Gawan to \u00fee kyng,\r\n 344 [A] \"Bid me bo3e fro \u00feis benche, & stonde by yow \u00feere,\r\n         \u00deat I wyth-oute vylanye my3t voyde \u00feis table,\r\n         & \u00feat my legge lady lyked not ille,\r\n         I wolde com to your counseyl, bifore your cort ryche.\r\n 348 [B] For me \u00feink hit not semly, as hit is so\u00fe knawen,\r\n         \u00deer such an askyng is heuened so hy3e in your sale,\r\n         \u00dea33e 3our-self be talenttyf to take hit to your-seluen,\r\n     [C] Whil mony so bolde yow aboute vpon bench sytten,\r\n 352     \u00deat vnder heuen, I hope, non ha3er er of wylle,\r\n         Ne better bodyes on bent, \u00feer baret is rered;\r\n     [D] I am \u00fee wakkest, I wot, and of wyt feblest,\r\n         & lest lur of my lyf, quo laytes \u00fee so\u00fee,\r\n 356     Bot for as much as 3e ar myn em, I am only to prayse,\r\n         No bount\u00e9 bot your blod I in my bod\u00e9 knowe;\r\n         & sy\u00feen \u00feis note is so nys, \u00feat no3t hit yow falles,\r\n         & I haue frayned hit at yow fyrst, folde3 hit to me,\r\n 360     & if I carp not comlyly, let alle \u00feis cort rych,\r\n                bout blame.\"\r\n     [E]    Ryche to-geder con roun,\r\n            & sy\u00feen \u00feay redden alle same,\r\n 364        To ryd \u00fee kyng wyth croun,\r\n            & gif Gawan \u00fee game.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: He asks permission to leave the table; he says,]\r\n[Sidenote B: it is not meet that Arthur should be active in the matter,]\r\n[Sidenote C: while so many bold ones sit upon bench.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Although the weakest, he is quite ready to meet the Green\r\n  Knight.]\r\n[Sidenote E: The nobles entreat Arthur to \"give Gawayne the game.\"]\r\n\r\n      XVII.\r\n\r\n         \u00deen comaunded \u00fee kyng \u00fee kny3t for to ryse;             [Fol. 96.]\r\n         & he ful radly vp ros, & ruchched hym fayre,\r\n 368 [A] Kneled doun bifore \u00fee kyng, & cache3 \u00feat weppen;\r\n         & he luflyly hit hym laft, & lyfte vp his honde,\r\n         & gef hym godde3 blessyng, & gladly hym biddes\r\n     [B] \u00deat his hert & his honde schulde hardi be bo\u00fee.\r\n 372     \"Kepe \u00fee cosyn,\" quod \u00fee kyng, \"\u00feat \u00feou on kyrf sette,\r\n         & if \u00feou rede3 hym ry3t, redly I trowe,\r\n         \u00deat \u00feou schal byden \u00fee bur \u00feat he schal bede after.\r\n         Gawan got3 to \u00fee gome, with giserne in honde,\r\n 376     & he baldly hym byde3, he bayst neuer \u00fee helder\r\n     [C] \u00deen carppe3 to sir Gawan \u00fee kny3t in \u00fee grene,\r\n         \"Refourme we oure for-wardes, er we fyrre passe.\r\n         Fyrst I e\u00fee \u00fee, ha\u00feel, how \u00feat \u00feou hattes,\r\n 380     \u00deat \u00feou me telle truly, as I tryst may?\"\r\n     [D] \"In god fayth,\" quod \u00fee goode kny3t, \"Gawan I hatte,\r\n         \u00deat bede \u00fee \u00feis buffet, quat-so bi-falle3 after,\r\n         & at \u00feis tyme twelmonyth take at \u00fee ano\u00feer,\r\n 384     Wyth what weppen so[1] \u00feou wylt, & wyth no wy3 elle3,\r\n                 on lyue.\"\r\n             \u00deat o\u00feer on-sware3 agayn,\r\n             \"Sir Gawan, so mot I \u00feryue,\r\n 388 [E]     As I am ferly fayn.\r\n             \u00deis dint \u00feat \u00feou schal dryue.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The king gives his nephew his weapon,]\r\n[Sidenote B: and tells him to keep heart and hand steady.]\r\n[Sidenote C: The Green Knight enquires the name of his opponent.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Sir Gawayne tells him his name, and declares that he is\r\n  willing to give and receive a blow.]\r\n[Sidenote E: The other thereof is glad.]\r\n[Footnote 1: MS. fo.]\r\n\r\n      XVIII.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"Bigog,\" quod \u00fee grene kny3t, \"sir Gawan, melykes,\r\n         \u00deat I schal fange at \u00fey fust \u00feat I haf frayst here;\r\n 392     & \u00feou hat3 redily rehersed, bi resoun ful trwe,\r\n         Clanly al \u00fee couenaunt \u00feat I \u00fee kynge asked,\r\n         Saf \u00feat \u00feou schal siker me, segge, bi \u00fei traw\u00fee,\r\n         \u00deat \u00feou schal seche me \u00fei-self, where-so \u00feou hopes\r\n 396     I may be funde vpon folde, & foch \u00fee such wages\r\n     [B] As \u00feou deles me to day, bifore \u00feis dou\u00fee ryche.\"\r\n     [C] \"Where schulde I wale \u00fee,\" quod Gauan, \"where is \u00fey place?\r\n         I wot neuer where \u00feou wonyes, bi hym \u00feat me wro3t,\r\n 400     Ne I know not \u00fee, kny3t, \u00fey cort, ne \u00fei name.\r\n     [D] Bot teche me truly \u00feer-to, & telle me howe \u00feou hattes,\r\n         & I schal ware alle my wyt to wynne me \u00feeder,\r\n         & \u00feat I swere \u00fee for so\u00fee, & by my seker trawe\u00fe.\"      [Fol. 96b.]\r\n 404     \"\u00deat is in-nogh in nwe 3er, hit nedes no more,\"\r\n         Quod \u00fee gome in \u00fee grene to Gawan \u00fee hende,\r\n     [E] \"3if I \u00fee telle trwly, quen I \u00fee tape haue,\r\n         & \u00feou me smo\u00feely hat3 smyten, smartly I \u00fee teche\r\n 408     Of my hous, & my home, & myn owen nome,\r\n         \u00deen may \u00feou frayst my fare, & forwarde3 holde,\r\n     [F] & if I spende no speche, \u00feenne spede3 \u00feou \u00fee better,\r\n         For \u00feou may leng in \u00fey londe, & layt no fyrre,\r\n 412             bot slokes;\r\n     [G]     Ta now \u00fey grymme tole to \u00fee,\r\n             & let se how \u00feou cnoke3.\"\r\n             \"Gladly sir, for so\u00fee,\"\r\n 416         Quod Gawan; his ax he strokes.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"It pleases me well, Sir Gawayne,\" says the Green Knight,\r\n  \"that I shall receive a blow from thy fist; but thou must swear that thou\r\n  wilt seek me,]\r\n[Sidenote B: to receive the blow in return.\"]\r\n[Sidenote C: \"Where shall I seek thee?\" says Sir Gawayne;]\r\n[Sidenote D: \"tell me thy name and abode and I will find thee.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: \"When thou hast smitten me,\" says the knight, \"then tell I\r\n  thee of my home and name;]\r\n[Sidenote F: if I speak not at all, so much the better for thee.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Take now thy grim tool, and let us see how thou knockest.\"]\r\n\r\n      XIX.\r\n\r\n     [A] The grene kny3t vpon grounde gray\u00feely hym dresses,\r\n         A littel lut with \u00fee hede, \u00fee lere he discouere3,\r\n     [B] His longe louelych lokke3 he layd ouer his croun.\r\n 420     Let \u00fee naked nec to \u00fee note schewe.\r\n         Gauan gripped to his ax, & gederes hit on hy3t,\r\n         \u00dee kay fot on \u00fee folde he be-fore sette,\r\n     [C] Let hit doun ly3tly ly3t on \u00fee naked,\r\n 424     \u00deat \u00fee scharp of \u00fee schalk schyndered \u00fee bones,\r\n     [D] & schrank \u00feur3 \u00fee schyire grece, & scade hit in twynne,\r\n         \u00deat \u00fee bit of \u00fee broun stel bot on \u00fee grounde.\r\n     [E] \u00dee fayre hede fro \u00fee halce hit [felle] to \u00fee er\u00fee,\r\n 428 [F] \u00deat fele hit foyned wyth her fete, \u00feere hit forth roled;\r\n         \u00dee blod brayd fro \u00fee body, \u00feat blykked on \u00fee grene;\r\n     [G] & naw\u00feer faltered ne fel \u00fee freke neuer \u00fee helder,\r\n         Bot sty\u00fely he start forth vpon styf schonkes,\r\n 432 [H] & ru[n]yschly he ra3t out, \u00feere as renkke3 stoden,\r\n         La3t to his lufly hed, & lyft hit vp sone;\r\n         & sy\u00feen bo3e3 to his blonk, \u00fee brydel he cachche3,\r\n     [I] Steppe3 in to stel bawe & stryde3 alofte,\r\n 436 [J] & his hede by \u00fee here in his honde halde3;\r\n         & as sadly \u00fee segge hym in his sadel sette,\r\n         As non vnhap had hym ayled, \u00fea3 hedle3 he[1] we[re],\r\n                 in stedde;\r\n 440 [K]     He brayde his bluk[2] aboute,\r\n             \u00deat vgly bodi \u00feat bledde,                           [Fol. 97.]\r\n             Moni on of hym had doute,\r\n             Bi \u00feat his resoun3 were redde.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The Green Knight]\r\n[Sidenote B: puts his long lovely locks aside and lays bare his neck.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Sir Gawayne lets fall his axe]\r\n[Sidenote D: and severs the head from the body.]\r\n[Sidenote E: The head falls to the earth.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Many kick it aside with their feet.]\r\n[Sidenote G: The knight never falters;]\r\n[Sidenote H: he rushes forth, seizes his head,]\r\n[Sidenote I: steps into the saddle,]\r\n[Sidenote J: holding the while the head in his hand by the hair,]\r\n[Sidenote K: and turns his horse about.]\r\n[Footnote 1: MS. ho.]\r\n[Footnote 2: blunk (?).]\r\n\r\n      XX.\r\n\r\n 444     For \u00fee hede in his honde he halde3 vp euen,\r\n     [A] To-ward \u00fee derrest on \u00fee dece he dresse3 \u00fee face,\r\n         & hit lyfte vp \u00fee y3e-lydde3, & loked ful brode,\r\n     [B] & meled \u00feus much with his muthe, as 3e may now here.\r\n 448     \"Loke, Gawan, \u00feou be gray\u00fee to go as \u00feou hette3,\r\n         & layte as lelly til \u00feou me, lude, fynde,\r\n     [C] As \u00feou hat3 hette in \u00feis halle, herande \u00feise kny3tes;\r\n     [D] To \u00fee grene chapel \u00feou chose, I charge \u00fee to fotte,\r\n 452     Such a dunt as \u00feou hat3 dalt disserued \u00feou habbe3,\r\n     [E] To be 3ederly 3olden on nw 3eres morn;\r\n         \u00dee kny3t of \u00fee grene chapel men knowen me mony;\r\n     [F] For-\u00fei me forto fynde if \u00feou frayste3, fayle3 \u00feou neuer,\r\n 456 [G] \u00deer-fore com, o\u00feer recreaunt be calde \u00fee be-houeus.\"\r\n         With a runisch rout \u00fee rayne3 he torne3,\r\n     [H] Halled out at \u00fee hal-dor, his hed in his hande,\r\n         \u00deat \u00fee fyr of \u00fee flynt fla3e fro fole houes.\r\n 460     To quat kyth he be-com, knwe non \u00feere,\r\n         Neuermore \u00feen \u00feay wyste fram que\u00feen. he wat3 wonnen;\r\n                 what \u00feenne?\r\n             \u00dee kyng & Gawen \u00feare,\r\n 464 [I]     At \u00feat grene \u00feay la3e & grenne,\r\n             3et breued wat3 hit ful bare,\r\n             A meruayl among \u00feo menne.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The head lifts up its eyelids,]\r\n[Sidenote B: and addresses Sir Gawayne; \"Look thou, be ready to go as thou\r\n  hast promised,]\r\n[Sidenote C: and seek till thou findest me.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Get thee to the Green Chapel,]\r\n[Sidenote E: there to receive a blow on New Year's morn.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Fail thou never;]\r\n[Sidenote G: come, or recreant be called.\"]\r\n[Sidenote H: The Green Knight then rushes out of the hall, his head in his\r\n  hand.]\r\n[Sidenote I: At that green one Arthur and Gawayne \"laugh and grin.\"]\r\n\r\n      XXI.\r\n\r\n     [A] \u00dea3 Ar\u00feer \u00fee hende kyng at hert hade wonder,\r\n 468     He let no semblaunt be sene, bot sayde ful hy3e\r\n         To \u00fee comlych quene, wyth cortays speche,\r\n     [B] \"Dere dame, to day demay yow neuer;\r\n         Wel by-commes such craft vpon cristmasse,\r\n 472     Laykyng of enterlude3, to la3e & to syng.\r\n         Among \u00feise, kynde caroles of kny3te3 & ladye3;\r\n     [C] Neuer-\u00fee-lece to my mete I may me wel dres,\r\n         For I haf sen a selly, I may not for-sake.\"\r\n 476     He glent vpon sir Gawen, & gaynly he sayde,\r\n     [D] \"Now sir, heng vp \u00feyn ax, \u00feat hat3 in-nogh hewen.\"\r\n         & hit wat3 don abof \u00fee dece, on doser to henge,        [Fol. 97b.]\r\n         \u00deer alle men for meruayl my3t on hit loke,\r\n 480     & bi trwe tytel \u00feer-of to telle \u00fee wonder.\r\n     [E] \u00deenne \u00feay bo3ed to a borde \u00feise burnes to-geder,\r\n         \u00dee kyng & \u00fee gode kny3t, & kene men hem serued\r\n         Of alle dayntye3 double, as derrest my3t falle,\r\n 484     Wyth alle maner of mete & mynstralcie bo\u00fee;\r\n         Wyth wele walt \u00feay \u00feat day, til wor\u00feed an ende,\r\n                 in londe.\r\n     [F]     Now \u00feenk wel, sir Gawan,\r\n 488         For wo\u00fee \u00feat \u00feou ne wonde,\r\n             \u00deis auenture forto frayn,\r\n             \u00deat \u00feou hat3 tan on honde.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Arthur addresses the queen:]\r\n[Sidenote B: \"Dear dame, be not dismayed; such marvels well become the\r\n  Christmas festival;]\r\n[Sidenote C: I may now go to meat.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Sir Gawayne, hang up thine axe.]\r\n[Sidenote E: The king and his knights sit feasting at the board till day is\r\n  ended.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Now beware, Sir Gawayne, lest thou fail to seek the adventure\r\n  that thou hast taken in hand.]\r\n\r\n[FYTTE THE SECOND.]\r\n\r\n      I.\r\n\r\n     [A] This hanselle hat3 Arthur of auenturus on fyrst,\r\n 492     In 3onge 3er, for he 3erned 3elpyng to here,\r\n         Tha3 hym worde3 were wane, when \u00feay to sete wenten;\r\n         Now ar \u00feay stoken of sturne werk staf-ful her hond.\r\n         Gawan wat3 glad to be-gynne \u00feose gomne3 in halle,\r\n 496     Bot \u00fea3 \u00fee ende be heuy, haf 3e no wonder;\r\n         For \u00fea3 men ben mery in mynde, quen \u00feay han mayn drynk,\r\n     [B] A 3ere 3ernes ful 3erne, & 3elde3 neuer lyke,\r\n         \u00dee forme to \u00fee fynisment folde3 ful selden.\r\n 500     For-\u00fei \u00feis 3ol ouer-3ede, & \u00fee 3ere after,\r\n         & vche sesoun serlepes sued after o\u00feer;\r\n     [C] After crysten-masse com \u00fee crabbed lentoun,\r\n         \u00deat frayste3 flesch wyth \u00fee fysche & fode more symple\r\n 504     Bot \u00feenne \u00fee weder of \u00fee worlde wyth wynter hit \u00ferepe3,\r\n     [D] Colde clenge3 adoun, cloude3 vp-lyften,\r\n         Schyre schede3 \u00fee rayn in schowre3 ful warme,\r\n         Falle3 vpon fayre flat, flowre3 \u00feere schewen,\r\n 508 [E] Bo\u00fee grounde3 & \u00fee greue3 grene ar her wede3,\r\n     [F] Brydde3 busken to bylde, & bremlych syngen,\r\n     [G] For solace of \u00fee softe somer \u00feat sues \u00feer after,\r\n                 bi bonk;\r\n 512 [H]     & blossume3 bolne to blowe,\r\n             Bi rawe3 rych & ronk,\r\n     [I]     \u00deen note3 noble in-no3e,\r\n             Ar herde in wod so wlonk.                            [Fol. 98]\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: This marvel serves to keep up a brisk conversation in Court.]\r\n[Sidenote B: The year passes full quickly and never returns.]\r\n[Sidenote C: After Christmas comes the \"crabbed Lenten.\"]\r\n[Sidenote D: Spring sets in and warm showers descend;]\r\n[Sidenote E: the groves become green,]\r\n[Sidenote F: birds build and sing,]\r\n[Sidenote G: for joy of the summer that follows;]\r\n[Sidenote H: blossoms begin to bloom,]\r\n[Sidenote I: and noble notes are heard in the woods]\r\n\r\n      II.\r\n\r\n 516 [A] After \u00fee sesoun of somer wyth \u00fee soft wynde3,\r\n         Quen 3eferus syfle3 hym-self on sede3 & erbe3,\r\n     [B] Wela-wynne is \u00fee wort \u00feat woxes \u00feer-oute.\r\n         When \u00fee donkande dewe drope3 of \u00fee leue3,\r\n 520     To bide a blysful blusch of \u00fee bry3t sunne.\r\n     [C] Bot \u00feen hy3es heruest, & hardenes hym sone.\r\n         Warne3 hym for \u00fee wynter to wax ful rype;\r\n     [D] He dryues wyth dro3t \u00fee dust for to ryse.\r\n 524     Fro \u00fee face of \u00fee folde to fly3e ful hy3e;\r\n         Wro\u00fee wynde of \u00fee welkyn wrastele3 with \u00fee sunne,\r\n     [E] \u00dee leue3 lancen fro \u00fee lynde, & ly3ten on \u00fee grounde,\r\n     [F] & al grayes \u00fee gres, \u00feat grene wat3 ere;\r\n 528     \u00deenne al rype3 & rote3 \u00feat ros vpon fyrst,\r\n         & \u00feus 3irne3 \u00fee 3ere in 3isterdaye3 mony,\r\n     [G] & wynter wynde3 a3ayn, as \u00fee worlde aske3\r\n                 no sage.\r\n 532         Til me3el-mas mone,\r\n             Wat3 cumen wyth wynter wage;\r\n     [H]     \u00deen \u00feenkke3 Gawan ful sone,\r\n             Of his anious uyage.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Then the soft winds of summer,]\r\n[Sidenote B: beautiful are the flowers wet with dew-drops.]\r\n[Sidenote C: But harvest approaches soon,]\r\n[Sidenote D: and drives the dust about.]\r\n[Sidenote E: The leaves drop off the trees,]\r\n[Sidenote F: the grass becomes gray, and all ripens and rots.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Winter winds round again,]\r\n[Sidenote H: and then Sir Gawayne thinks of his dread journey.]\r\n\r\n      III.\r\n\r\n 536 [A] 3et quyl al-hal-day with Ar\u00feer he lenges,\r\n         & he made a fare on \u00feat fest, for \u00fee freke3 sake,\r\n         With much reuel & ryche of \u00fee rounde table;\r\n         Kny3te3 ful cortays & comlych ladies,\r\n 540     Al for luf of \u00feat lede in longynge \u00feay were,\r\n         Bot neuer-\u00fee-lece ne \u00fee later \u00feay neuened bot mer\u00fee,\r\n         Mony ioyle3 for \u00feat ientyle iape3 \u00feer maden.\r\n     [B] For aftter mete, with mournyng he mele3 to his eme,\r\n 544     & speke3 of his passage, & pertly he sayde,\r\n     [C] \"Now, lege lorde of my lyf, leue I yow ask;\r\n         3e knowe \u00fee cost of \u00feis cace, kepe I no more\r\n         To telle yow tene3 \u00feer-of neuer bot trifel;\r\n 548 [D] Bot I am boun to \u00fee bur barely to morne,\r\n         To sech \u00fee gome of \u00fee grene, as god wyl me wysse.\"\r\n         \u00deenne \u00fee best of \u00fee bur3 bo3ed to-geder,\r\n         Aywan, & Errik, & o\u00feer ful mony,\r\n 552     Sir Doddinaual de Sauage, \u00fee duk of Clarence,          [Fol. 98b.]\r\n         Launcelot, & Lyonel, & Lucan \u00fee gode,\r\n         Sir Boos, & sir Byduer, big men bo\u00fee,\r\n     [E] & mony o\u00feer menskful, with Mador de la Port.\r\n 556     Alle \u00feis compayny of court com \u00fee kyng nerre,\r\n         For to counseyl \u00fee kny3t, with care at her hert;\r\n     [F] \u00deere wat3 much derue[1] doel driuen in \u00fee sale,\r\n         \u00deat so worthe as Wawan schulde wende on \u00feat ernde,\r\n 560     To dry3e a delful dynt, & dele no more\r\n                 wyth bronde.\r\n             \u00dee kny3t mad ay god chere,\r\n             & sayde, \"quat schuld I wonde,\r\n 564 [G]     Of destines derf & dere,\r\n             What may mon do bot fonde?\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: On All-hallows day Arthur makes a feast for his nephew's\r\n  sake.]\r\n[Sidenote B: After meat, Sir Gawayne thus speaks to his uncle:]\r\n[Sidenote C: \"Now, liege lord, I ask leave of you,]\r\n[Sidenote D: for I am bound on the morn to seek the Green Knight.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: Many nobles, the best of the court, counsel and comfort him.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Much sorrow prevails in the hall.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Gawayne declares that he has nothing to fear.]\r\n[Footnote 1: derne (?).]\r\n\r\n      IV.\r\n\r\n     [A] He dowelle3 \u00feer al \u00feat day, and dresse3 on \u00fee morn,\r\n         Aske3 erly hys arme3, & alle were \u00feay bro3t\r\n 568 [B] Fyrst a tule tapit, ty3t ouer \u00fee flet,\r\n         & miche wat3 \u00fee gyld gere \u00feat glent \u00feer alofte;\r\n     [C] \u00dee stif mon steppe3 \u00feeron, & \u00fee stel hondole3,\r\n     [D] Dubbed in a dublet of a dere tars,\r\n 572     & sy\u00feen a crafty capados, closed aloft,\r\n         \u00deat wyth a bry3t blaunner was bounden with-inne;\r\n     [E] \u00deenne set \u00feay \u00fee sabatoun3 vpon \u00fee segge fote3,\r\n         His lege3 lapped in stel with luflych greue3,\r\n 576     With polayne3 piched \u00feer-to, policed ful clene,\r\n         Aboute his kne3 knaged wyth knote3 of golde;\r\n     [F] Queme quyssewes \u00feen, \u00feat coyntlych closed\r\n         His thik \u00ferawen \u00fey3e3 with \u00fewonges to-tachched;\r\n 580 [G] & sy\u00feen \u00fee brawden bryne of bry3t stel rynge3,\r\n         Vmbe-weued \u00feat wy3, vpon wlonk stuffe;\r\n     [H] & wel bornyst brace vpon his bo\u00fee armes,\r\n         With gode cowters & gay, & gloue3 of plate,\r\n 584     & alle \u00fee godlych gere \u00feat hym gayn schulde\r\n                 \u00deat tyde;\r\n     [I]     Wyth ryche cote armure,\r\n     [J]     His gold spore3 spend with pryde,\r\n 588 [K]     Gurde wyth a bront ful sure,\r\n             With silk sayn vmbe his syde.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: On the morn he asks for his arms.]\r\n[Sidenote B: A carpet is spread on the floor,]\r\n[Sidenote C: and he steps thereon.]\r\n[Sidenote D: He is dubbed in a doublet of Tarsic silk, and a well-made\r\n  hood.]\r\n[Sidenote E: They set steel slices on his feet, and lap his legs in steel\r\n  greaves.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Fair cuisses enclose his thighs,]\r\n[Sidenote G: and afterwards they put on the steel habergeon,]\r\n[Sidenote H: well-burnished braces, elbow pieces, and gloves of plate.]\r\n[Sidenote I: Over all this is placed the coat armour.]\r\n[Sidenote J: His spurs are then fixed,]\r\n[Sidenote K: and his sword is attached to his side by a silken girdle.]\r\n\r\n      V.\r\n\r\n     [A] When he wat3 hasped in armes, his harnays wat3 ryche,  [Fol. 99a.]\r\n         \u00dee lest lachet ou[\u00fe]er loupe lemed of golde;\r\n 592     So harnayst as he wat3 he herkne3 his masse,\r\n         Offred & honoured at \u00fee he3e auter;\r\n     [B] Sy\u00feen he come3 to \u00fee kyng & to his cort fere3,\r\n         Lache3 lufly his leue at lorde3 & ladye3;\r\n 596     & \u00feay hym kyst & conueyed, bikende hym to kryst.\r\n     [C] Bi \u00feat wat3 Gryngolet grayth, & gurde with a sadel,\r\n         \u00deat glemed ful gayly with mony golde frenges,\r\n         Ay quere naylet ful nwe for \u00feat note ryched;\r\n 600     \u00dee brydel barred aboute, with bry3t golde bounden;\r\n     [D] \u00dee apparayl of \u00fee payttrure, & of \u00fee proude skyrte3,\r\n         \u00dee cropore, & \u00fee couertor, acorded wyth \u00fee arsoune3;\r\n         & al wat3 rayled on red ryche golde nayle3,\r\n 604     \u00deat al glytered & glent as glem of \u00fee sunne.\r\n     [E] \u00deenne hentes he \u00fee holme, & hastily hit kysses,\r\n         \u00deat wat3 stapled stifly, & stoffed wyth-inne:\r\n         Hit wat3 hy3e on his hede, hasped bihynde,\r\n 608 [F] Wyth a ly3tli vrysoun ouer \u00fee auentayle,\r\n     [G] Enbrawden & bounden wyth \u00fee best gemme3,\r\n         On brode sylkyn borde, & brydde3 on seme3,\r\n         As papiaye3 paynted pernyng bitwene,\r\n 612     Tortors & trulofe3 entayled so \u00feyk,\r\n         As mony burde \u00feer aboute had ben seuen wynter\r\n                 in toune;\r\n     [H]     \u00dee cercle wat3 more o prys,\r\n 616         \u00deat vmbe-clypped hys croun,\r\n             Of diamaunte3 a deuys,\r\n             \u00deat bo\u00fee were bry3t & broun.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Thus arrayed the knight hears mass,]\r\n[Sidenote B: and afterwards takes leave of Arthur and his court.]\r\n[Sidenote C: By that time his horse Gringolet was ready,]\r\n[Sidenote D: the harness of which glittered like the \"gleam of the sun.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: Then Sir Gawayne sets his helmet upon his head,]\r\n[Sidenote F: fastened behind with a \"urisoun,\"]\r\n[Sidenote G: richly embroidered with gems.]\r\n[Sidenote H: The circle around the helmet was decked with diamonds.]\r\n\r\n      VI.\r\n\r\n     [A] Then \u00feay schewed hym \u00fee schelde, \u00feat was of schyr goule3,\r\n 620     Wyth \u00fee pentangel de-paynt of pure golde hwe3;\r\n         He brayde3 hit by \u00fee baude-ryk, aboute \u00fee hals kestes,\r\n         \u00deat bisemed \u00fee segge semlyly fayre.\r\n     [B] & quy \u00fee pentangel apende3 to \u00feat prynce noble,\r\n 624     I am in tent yow to telle, \u00feof tary hyt me schulde;\r\n         Hit is a syngne \u00feat Salamon set sum-quyle,\r\n         In bytoknyng of traw\u00fee, bi tytle \u00feat hit habbe3,\r\n         For hit is a figure \u00feat halde3 fyue poynte3,            [Fol. 99b]\r\n 628     & vche lyne vmbe-lappe3 & louke3 in o\u00feer,\r\n     [C] & ay quere hit is endele3,[1] & Englych hit callen\r\n         Ouer-al, as I here, \u00fee endeles knot.\r\n         For-\u00fey hit acorde3 to \u00feis kny3t, & to his cler arme3,\r\n 632     For ay faythful in fyue & sere fyue sy\u00fee3,\r\n     [D] Gawan wat3 for gode knawen, & as golde pured,\r\n         Voyded of vche vylany, wyth vertue3[2] ennourned\r\n                 in mote;\r\n 636         For-\u00fey \u00fee pen-tangel nwe\r\n             He ber in schelde & cote,\r\n     [E]     As tulk of tale most trwe,\r\n             & gentylest kny3t of lote.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Then they show him his shield with the \"pentangle\" of pure\r\n  gold.]\r\n[Sidenote B: The \"pentangle\" was devised by Solomon as a token of truth.]\r\n[Sidenote C: It is called the endless knot]\r\n[Sidenote D: It well becomes the good Sir Gawayne,]\r\n[Sidenote E: a knight the truest of speech and the fairest of form.]\r\n[Footnote 1: MS emdele3.]\r\n[Footnote 2: MS verertue3]\r\n\r\n      VII.\r\n\r\n 640 [A] Fyrst he wat3 funden fautle3 in his fyue wytte3,\r\n         & efte fayled neuer \u00fee freke in his fyue fyngres,\r\n     [B] & alle his afyaunce vpon folde wat3 in \u00fee fyue wounde3\r\n         \u00deat Cryst ka3t on \u00fee croys, as \u00fee crede telle3;\r\n 644     & quere-so-euer \u00feys mon in melly wat3 stad,\r\n         His \u00fero \u00feo3t wat3 in \u00feat, \u00feur3 alle o\u00feer \u00feynge3,\r\n         \u00deat alle his forsnes he fong at \u00fee fyue ioye3,\r\n         \u00deat \u00fee hende heuen quene had of hir chylde;\r\n 648     At \u00feis cause \u00fee kny3t comlyche hade\r\n     [C] In \u00fee more half of his schelde hir ymage depaynted,\r\n         \u00deat quen he blusched \u00feerto, his belde neuer payred.\r\n         \u00dee fyrst[1] fyue \u00feat I finde \u00feat \u00fee frek vsed,\r\n 652     Wat3 fraunchyse, & fela3schyp for-be[2] al \u00feyng;\r\n     [D] His clannes & his cortaysye croked were neuer,\r\n         & pite, \u00feat passe3 alle poynte3, \u00feyse pure fyue\r\n         Were harder happed on \u00feat ha\u00feel \u00feen on any o\u00feer.\r\n 656     Now alle \u00feese fyue sy\u00fee3, forso\u00fee, were fetled on \u00feis kny3t,\r\n         & vchone halched in o\u00feer, \u00feat non ende hade,\r\n         & fyched vpon fyue poynte3, \u00feat fayld neuer,\r\n         Ne samned neuer in no syde, ne sundred nou\u00fe[er],\r\n 660     With-outen ende at any noke [a]i quere fynde,\r\n         Where-euer \u00fee gomen bygan, or glod to an ende.\r\n     [E] \u00deer-fore on his schene schelde schapen wat3 \u00fee knot,\r\n         \u00deus alle wyth red golde vpon rede gowle3,\r\n 664     \u00deat is \u00fee pure pentaungel wyth \u00fee peple called,         [Fol. 100]\r\n                 with lore.\r\n             Now gray\u00feed is Gawan gay,\r\n     [F]     & la3t his launce ry3t \u00feore,\r\n 668         & gef hem alle goud day,\r\n             He wende for euer more.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: He was found faultless in his five wits.]\r\n[Sidenote B: His trust was in the five wounds.]\r\n[Sidenote C: The image of the Virgin was depicted upon his shield.]\r\n[Sidenote D: In cleanness and courtesy he was never found wanting,]\r\n[Sidenote E: therefore was the endless knot fastened on his shield.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Sir Gawayne seizes his lance and bids all \"good day.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: MS fyft.]\r\n[Footnote 2: for-bi (?).]\r\n\r\n      VIII.\r\n\r\n     [A] He sperred \u00fee sted with \u00fee spure3, & sprong on his way,\r\n         So stif \u00feat \u00fee ston fyr stroke out \u00feer-after;\r\n 672 [B] Al \u00feat se3 \u00feat semly syked in hert,\r\n         & sayde so\u00fely al same segges til o\u00feer,\r\n         Carande for \u00feat comly, \"bi Kryst, hit is sca\u00fee,\r\n         \u00deat \u00feou, leude, schal be lost, \u00feat art of lyf noble!\r\n 676 [C] To fynde hys fere vpon folde, in fayth is not e\u00fee;\r\n         Warloker to haf wro3t had more wyt bene,\r\n         & haf dy3t 3onder dere a duk to haue wor\u00feed;\r\n     [D] A lowande leder of lede3 in londe hym wel seme3,\r\n 680     & so had better haf ben \u00feen britned to no3t,\r\n     [E] Hadet wyth an aluisch mon, for angarde3 pryde.\r\n         Who knew euer any kyng such counsel to take,\r\n         As kny3te3 in caueloun3 on cryst-masse gomne3!\"\r\n 684 [F] Wel much wat3 \u00fee warme water \u00feat waltered of y3en,\r\n         When \u00feat semly syre so3t fro \u00feo wone3\r\n                 \u00feat[1] daye;\r\n             He made non abode,\r\n 688         Bot wy3tly went hys way,\r\n     [G]     Mony wylsum way he rode,\r\n             \u00dee bok as I herde say.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: He spurs his horse and goes on his way.]\r\n[Sidenote B: All that saw that seemly one mourned in their hearts.]\r\n[Sidenote C: They declared that his equal was not to be found upon earth.]\r\n[Sidenote D: It would have been better for him to have been a leader of\r\n  men,]\r\n[Sidenote E: than to die by the hands of \"an elvish man.\"]\r\n[Sidenote F: Much was the warm water that poured from eyes that day.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Meanwhile many a weary way goes Sir Gawayne.]\r\n[Footnote 1: MS. \u00fead.]\r\n\r\n      IX.\r\n\r\n     [A] Now ride3 \u00feis renk \u00feur3 \u00fee ryalme of Logres,\r\n 692     Sir Gauan on Gode3 halue, \u00fea3 hym no gomen \u00feo3t;\r\n         Oft, leudle3 alone, he lenge3 on ny3te3,\r\n         \u00deer he fonde no3t hym byfore \u00fee fare \u00feat he lyked;\r\n     [B] Hade he no fere bot his fole, bi frythe3 & doune3,\r\n 696     Ne no gome bot God, bi gate wyth to karp,\r\n     [C] Til \u00feat he ne3ed ful noghe[1] in to \u00fee Nor\u00fee Wale3;\r\n         Alle \u00fee iles of Anglesay on lyft half he halde3,\r\n         & fare3 ouer \u00fee forde3 by \u00fee for-londe3,\r\n 700 [D] Ouer at \u00fee Holy-Hede, til he hade eft bonk\r\n         In \u00fee wyldrenesse of Wyrale; wonde \u00feer bot lyte\r\n     [E] \u00deat au\u00feer God o\u00feer gome wyth goud hert louied.         [Fol. 100b]\r\n         & ay he frayned, as he ferde, at freke3 \u00feat he met,\r\n 704 [F] If \u00feay hade herde any karp of a kny3t grene,\r\n         In any grounde \u00feer-aboute, of \u00fee grene chapel;[2]\r\n         & al nykked hym wyth nay, \u00feat neuer in her lyue\r\n     [G] \u00deay se3e neuer no segge \u00feat wat3 of suche hwe3\r\n 708             of grene.\r\n             \u00dee kny3t tok gates straunge,\r\n             In mony a bonk vnbene,\r\n     [H]     His cher ful oft con chaunge,\r\n 712         \u00deat chapel er he my3t sene.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Now rides the knight through the realms of England.]\r\n[Sidenote B: He has no companion but his horse.]\r\n[Sidenote C: No men does he see till he approaches North Wales.]\r\n[Sidenote D: From Holyhead he passes into Wirral.]\r\n[Sidenote E: There he finds but few that loved God or man.]\r\n[Sidenote F: He enquires after the Green Knight of the Green Chapel,]\r\n[Sidenote G: but can gain no tidings of him.]\r\n[Sidenote H: His cheer oft changed before he found the Chapel.]\r\n[Footnote 1: nyghe (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: MS. clapel.]\r\n\r\n      X.\r\n\r\n     [A] Mony klyf he ouer-clambe in contraye3 straunge,\r\n         Fer floten fro his frende3 fremedly he ryde3;\r\n     [B] At vche war\u00fee o\u00feer water \u00feer \u00fee wy3e passed,\r\n 716     He fonde a foo hym byfore, bot ferly hit were,\r\n         & \u00feat so foule & so felle, \u00feat fe3t hym by-hode;\r\n     [C] So mony meruayl hi mount \u00feer \u00fee mon fynde3,\r\n         Hit were to tore for to telle of \u00fee ten\u00fee dole.\r\n 720 [D] Sumwhyle wyth worme3 he werre3, & with wolues als,\r\n         Sumwhyle wyth wodwos, \u00feat woned in \u00fee knarre3,\r\n     [E] Bo\u00fee wyth bulle3 & bere3, & bore3 o\u00feer-quyle,\r\n         & etayne3, \u00feat hym a-nelede, of \u00fee he3e felle;\r\n 724 [F] Nade he ben du3ty & dry3e, & dry3tyn had serued,\r\n         Douteles he hade ben ded, & dreped ful ofte.\r\n     [G] For werre wrathed hym not so much, \u00feat wynter was wors,\r\n         When \u00fee colde cler water fro \u00fee cloude3 schadden,\r\n 728     & fres er hit falle my3t to \u00fee fale er\u00fee;\r\n         Ner slayn wyth \u00fee slete he sleped in his yrnes,\r\n         Mo ny3te3 \u00feen in-noghe in naked rokke3,\r\n         \u00deer as claterande fro \u00fee crest \u00fee colde borne renne3,\r\n 732     & henged he3e ouer his hede in hard \u00ffsse-ikkles.\r\n     [H] \u00deus in peryl, & payne, & plytes ful harde,\r\n         Bi contray carye3 \u00feis kny3t, tyl kryst-masse euen,\r\n                 al one;\r\n 736         \u00dee kny3t wel \u00feat tyde,\r\n     [I]     To Mary made his mone.\r\n             \u00deat ho hym red to ryde,\r\n             & wysse hym to sum wone.                           [Fol. 101.]\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Many a cliff he climbed over;]\r\n[Sidenote B: many a ford and stream he crossed, and everywhere he found a\r\n  foe.]\r\n[Sidenote C: It were too tedious to tell the tenth part of his adventures]\r\n[Sidenote D: with serpents, wolves, and wild men;]\r\n[Sidenote E: with bulls, bears, and boars.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Had he not been both brave and good, doubtless he had been\r\n  dead.]\r\n[Sidenote G: The sharp winter was far worse than any war that ever troubled\r\n  him.]\r\n[Sidenote H: Thus in peril he travels till Christmas-eve.]\r\n[Sidenote I: To the Virgin Mary he prays to guide him to some abode.]\r\n\r\n      XI.\r\n\r\n 740 [A] Bi a mounte on \u00fee morne meryly he rydes,\r\n         Into a forest ful dep, \u00feat ferly wat3 wylde,\r\n         Hi3e hille3 on vche a halue, & holt wode3 vnder,\r\n     [B] Of hore oke3 fill hoge a hundreth to-geder;\r\n 744     \u00dee hasel & \u00fee ha3-\u00feorne were harled al samen,\r\n         With ro3e raged mosse rayled ay-where,\r\n     [C] With mony brydde3 vnbly\u00fee vpon bare twyges,\r\n         \u00deat pitosly \u00feer piped for pyne of \u00fee colde.\r\n 748     \u00dee gome vpon Gryngolet glyde3 hem vnder,\r\n     [D] \u00deur3 mony misy & myre, mon al hym one,\r\n         Carande for his costes, lest he ne keuer schulde,\r\n         To se \u00fee seruy[1] of \u00feat syre, \u00feat on \u00feat self ny3t\r\n 752     Of a burde wat3 borne, oure baret to quelle;\r\n     [E] & \u00feerfore sykyng he sayde, \"I be-seche \u00fee, lorde,\r\n         & Mary, \u00feat is myldest moder so dere.\r\n         Of sum herber, \u00feer he3ly I my3t here masse.\r\n 756     Ande \u00fey matyne3 to-morne, mekely I ask,\r\n         & \u00feer-to prestly I pray my pater & aue,\r\n                 & crede.\"\r\n             He rode in his prayere,\r\n 760         & cryed for his mysdede,\r\n     [F]     He sayned hym in sy\u00fees sere,\r\n             & sayde \"cros Kryst me spede!\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: On the morn Sir Gawayne finds himself in a deep forest,]\r\n[Sidenote B: where were old oaks many a hundred.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Many sad birds upon bare twigs piped piteously for the cold.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Through many a mire he goes, that he may celebrate the birth\r\n  of Christ.]\r\n[Sidenote E: He beseeches the Virgin Mary to direct him to some lodging\r\n  where he may hear mass.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Blessing himself, he says, \"Cross of Christ, speed me!\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: seruyce (?).]\r\n\r\n      XII.\r\n\r\n     [A] Nade he sayned hym-self, segge, bot \u00ferye,\r\n 764     Er he wat3 war in \u00fee wod of a won in a mote.\r\n     [B] Abof a launde, on a lawe, loken vnder bo3e3,\r\n         Of mony borelych bole, aboute bi \u00fee diches;\r\n     [C] A castel \u00fee comlokest \u00feat euer kny3t a3te,\r\n 768     Pyched on a prayere, a park al aboute,\r\n         With a pyked palays, pyned ful \u00feik,\r\n         \u00deat vmbe-te3e mony tre mo \u00feen two myle.\r\n         \u00deat holde on \u00feat on syde \u00fee ha\u00feel auysed,\r\n 772 [D] As hit schemered & schon \u00feur3 \u00fee schyre oke3;\r\n         \u00deenne hat3 he hendly of his helme, & he3ly he \u00feonke3\r\n         Iesus & say[nt] Gilyan, \u00feat gentyle ar bo\u00fee,\r\n         \u00deat cortaysly hade hym kydde, & his cry herkened.     [Fol. 101b.]\r\n 776     \"Now bone hostel,\" co\u00fee \u00fee burne, \"I be-seche yow 3ette!\"\r\n         \u00deenne gedere3 he to Gryngolet with \u00fee gilt hele3,\r\n     [E] & he ful chauncely hat3 chosen to \u00fee chef gate,\r\n         \u00deat bro3t bremly \u00fee burne to \u00fee bryge ende,\r\n 780             in haste;\r\n     [F]     \u00dee bryge wat3 breme vp-brayde,\r\n             \u00dee 3ate3 wer stoken faste,\r\n             \u00dee walle3 were wel arayed,\r\n 784         Hit dut no wynde3 blaste.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Scarcely had he blessed himself thrice]\r\n[Sidenote B: when he saw a dwelling in the wood, set on a hill,]\r\n[Sidenote C: the comeliest castle that knight ever owned.]\r\n[Sidenote D: It shone as the sun through the bright oaks.]\r\n[Sidenote E: Sir Gawayne goes to the chief gate,]\r\n[Sidenote F: and finds the draw-bridge raised, and the gates shut fast.]\r\n\r\n      XIII.\r\n\r\n     [A] \u00dee burne bode on bonk, \u00feat on blonk houed,\r\n         Of \u00fee depe double dich \u00feat drof to \u00fee place,\r\n         \u00dee walle wod in \u00fee water wonderly depe,\r\n 788 [B] Ande eft a ful huge he3t hit haled vpon lofte,\r\n         Of harde hewen ston vp to \u00fee table3,\r\n     [C] Enbaned vnder \u00fee abataylment, in \u00fee best lawe;\r\n         & sy\u00feen garyte3 ful gaye gered bi-twene,\r\n 792     Wyth mony luflych loupe, \u00feat louked ful clene;\r\n         A better barbican \u00feat burne blusched vpon neuer;\r\n         & innermore he be-helde \u00feat halle ful hy3e,\r\n     [D] Towre telded bytwene trochet ful \u00feik,\r\n 796     Fayre fylyole3 \u00feat fy3ed, & ferlyly long,\r\n     [E] With coruon coprounes, craftyly sle3e;\r\n         Chalk whyt chymnees \u00feer ches he in-no3e,\r\n         Vpon bastel roue3, \u00feat blenked ful quyte;\r\n 800     So mony pynakle payntet wat3 poudred ay quere,\r\n         Among \u00fee castel carnele3, clambred so \u00feik,\r\n         \u00deat pared out of papure purely hit semed.\r\n     [F] \u00dee fre freke on \u00fee fole hit fayr in-n[o]ghe \u00feo3t,\r\n 804     If he my3t keuer to com \u00fee cloyster wyth-inne,\r\n         To herber in \u00feat hostel, whyl halyday lested\r\n                 auinant;\r\n     [G]     He calde, & sone \u00feer com\r\n 808         A porter pure plesaunt,\r\n             On \u00fee wal his ernd he nome,\r\n             & haylsed \u00fee kny3t erraunt.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The knight abides on the bank,]\r\n[Sidenote B: and observes the \"huge height,\"]\r\n[Sidenote C: with its battlements and watch towers.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Bright and long were its round towers,]\r\n[Sidenote E: with their well-made capitals.]\r\n[Sidenote F: He thinks it fair enough if he might only come within the\r\n  cloister.]\r\n[Sidenote G: He calls, and soon there comes a porter to know the knight's\r\n  errand.]\r\n\r\n      XIV.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"Gode sir,\" quod Gawan, \"wolde3 \u00feou go myn ernde,\r\n 812     To \u00fee he3 lorde of \u00feis hous, herber to craue?\"\r\n         \"3e, Peter,\" quod \u00fee porter, \"& purely I trowe,[1]     [Fol. 102.]\r\n     [B] \u00deat 3e be, wy3e, welcum to won quyle yow lyke3.\"\r\n         \u00deen 3ede \u00feat wy3e a3ayn awy\u00fee,\r\n 816     & folke frely hym wyth, to fonge \u00fee kny3t;\r\n     [C] \u00deay let doun \u00fee grete dra3t, & derely out 3eden,\r\n         & kneled doun on her knes vpon \u00fee colde er\u00fee,\r\n         To welcum \u00feis ilk wy3, as wor\u00fey hom \u00feo3t;\r\n 820 [D] \u00deay 3olden hym \u00fee brode 3ate, 3arked vp wyde,\r\n         & he hem raysed rekenly, & rod ouer \u00fee brygge;\r\n         Sere segge3 hym sesed by sadel, quel[2] he ly3t,\r\n     [E] & sy\u00feen stabeled his stede stif men in-no3e.\r\n 824 [F] Kny3te3 & swyere3 comen doun \u00feenne,\r\n         For to bryng \u00feis burne[3] wyth blys in-to halle;\r\n     [G] Quen he hef vp his helme, \u00feer hi3ed in-noghe\r\n         For to hent hit at his honde, \u00fee hende to seruen,\r\n 828     His bronde & his blasoun bo\u00fee \u00feay token.\r\n         \u00deen haylsed he ful hendly \u00feo ha\u00feele3 vch one,\r\n         & mony proud mon \u00feer presed, \u00feat prynce to honour;\r\n         Alle hasped in his he3 wede to halle \u00feay hym wonnen,\r\n 832     \u00deer fayre fyre vpon flet fersly brenned.\r\n     [H] \u00deenne \u00fee lorde of \u00fee lede loute3 fro his chambre,\r\n         For to mete wyth menske \u00fee mon on \u00fee flor;\r\n         He sayde, \"3e ar welcum to welde as yow lyke3,\r\n 836     \u00deat here is, al is yowre awen, to haue at yowre wylle\r\n                 & welde.\"\r\n             \"Graunt mercy,\" quod Gawayn,\r\n             \"\u00deer Kryst hit yow for-3elde,\"\r\n 840 [I]     As freke3 \u00feat semed fayn,\r\n             Ay\u00feer o\u00feer in arme3 con felde.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"Good sir,\" says Gawayne, \"ask the high lord of this house to\r\n  grant me a lodging.\"]\r\n[Sidenote B: \"You are welcome to dwell here as long as you like,\" replied\r\n  the porter.]\r\n[Sidenote C: The draw-bridge is let down,]\r\n[Sidenote D: and the gate is opened wide to receive him.]\r\n[Sidenote E: His horse is well stabled.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Knights and squires bring Gawayne into the hall.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Many a one hastens to take his helmet and sword.]\r\n[Sidenote H: The lord of the country bids him welcome,]\r\n[Sidenote I: and they embrace each other.]\r\n[Footnote 1: trowoe, MS.]\r\n[Footnote 2: quyle (?) or quen (?).]\r\n[Footnote 3: buurne, MS.]\r\n\r\n      XV.\r\n\r\n     [A] Gawayn gly3t on \u00fee gome \u00feat godly hym gret,\r\n     [B] & \u00feu3t hit a bolde burne \u00feat \u00fee bur3 a3te,\r\n 844     A hoge ha\u00feel for \u00fee none3, & of hyghe elde;[1]\r\n     [C] Brode bry3t wat3 his berde, & al beuer hwed,\r\n         Sturne stif on \u00fee stry\u00fe\u00fee on stal-worth schonke3,\r\n     [D] Felle face as \u00fee fyre, & fre of hys speche;\r\n 848     & wel hym semed for so\u00fee, as \u00fee segge \u00feu3t,\r\n         To lede a lortschyp in lee of leude3 ful gode.\r\n     [E] \u00dee lorde hym charred to a chambre, & chefly cumaunde3[2]   [Fol.]\r\n         To delyuer hym a leude, hym lo3ly to serue;                [102b.]\r\n 852     & \u00feere were boun at his bode burne3 in-no3e,\r\n     [F] \u00deat bro3t hym to a bry3t boure, \u00feer beddyng wat3 noble,\r\n         Of cortynes of clene sylk, wyth cler golde hemme3,\r\n     [G] & couertore3 ful curious, with comlych pane3,\r\n 856     Of bry3t blaunnier a-boue enbrawded bisyde3,\r\n         Rudele3 rennande on rope3, red golde rynge3,\r\n     [H] Tapyte3 ty3t to \u00fee wo3e, of tuly & tars,\r\n         & vnder fete, on \u00fee flet, of fol3ande sute.\r\n 860 [I] \u00deer he wat3 dispoyled, wyth speche3 of myer\u00fee,\r\n         \u00dee burn of his bruny, & of his bry3t wede3;\r\n     [J] Ryche robes ful rad renkke3 hem[3] bro3ten,\r\n         For to charge, & to chaunge, & chose of \u00fee best.\r\n 864     Sone as he on hent, & happed \u00feer-inne,\r\n         \u00deat sete on hym[4] semly, wyth saylande skyrte3,\r\n     [K] \u00dee ver by his uisage verayly hit semed\r\n         Wel ne3 to vche ha\u00feel alle on hwes,\r\n 868     Lowande & lufly, alle his lymme3 vnder,\r\n     [L] \u00deat a comloker kny3t neuer Kryst made,\r\n                 hem \u00feo3t;\r\n             Whe\u00feen in worlde he were,\r\n 872         Hit semed as he my3t\r\n             Be prynce with-outen pere,\r\n             In felde \u00feer felle men fy3t.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Gawayne looks on his host;]\r\n[Sidenote B: a big bold one he seemed.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Beaver-hued was his broad beard,]\r\n[Sidenote D: and his face as \"fell as the fire.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: The lord leads Gawayne to a chamber, and assigns him a page to\r\n  wait upon him.]\r\n[Sidenote F: In this bright bower was noble bedding;]\r\n[Sidenote G: the curtains were of pure silk with golden hems;]\r\n[Sidenote H: Tarsic tapestries covered the walls and the floor.]\r\n[Sidenote I: Here the knight doffed his armour,]\r\n[Sidenote J: and put on rich robes,]\r\n[Sidenote K: which well became him.]\r\n[Sidenote L: A more comely knight Christ never made.]\r\n[Footnote 1: eldee, MS.]\r\n[Footnote 2: clesly, MS.]\r\n[Footnote 3: hym (?).]\r\n[Footnote 4: MS. hyn.]\r\n\r\n      XVI.\r\n\r\n     [A] A cheyer by-fore \u00fee chemn\u00e9, \u00feer charcole brenned,\r\n 876     Wat3 gray\u00feed for sir Gawan, gray\u00feely with clo\u00fee3,\r\n         Whyssynes vpon queldepoyntes, \u00fea[t] koynt wer bo\u00fee;\r\n     [B] & \u00feenne a mere mantyle wat3 on \u00feat mon cast,\r\n         Of a broun bleeaunt, enbrauded ful ryche,\r\n 880     & fayre furred wyth-inne with felle3 of \u00fee best,\r\n         Alle of ermyn in erde, his hode of \u00fee same;\r\n         & he sete in \u00feat settel semlych ryche,\r\n         & achaufed hym chefly,[1] & \u00feenne his cher mended.\r\n 884 [C] Sone wat3 telded vp a tapit, on treste3 ful fayre,\r\n     [D] Clad wyth a clene clo\u00fee, \u00feat cler quyt schewed,\r\n         Sanap, & salure, & syluer-in spone3;\r\n         \u00dee wy3e wesche at his wylle, & went to his mete        [Fol. 103.]\r\n 888     Segge3 hym serued semly in-no3e,\r\n     [E] Wyth sere sewes & sete,[2] sesounde of \u00fee best,\r\n         Double felde, as hit falle3, & fele kyn fische3;\r\n     [F] Summe baken in bred, summe brad on \u00fee glede3,\r\n 892 [G] Summe so\u00feen, summe in sewe, sauered with spyces,\r\n         & ay sawes[3] so sle3e3, \u00feat \u00fee segge lyked.\r\n         \u00dee freke calde hit a fest ful frely & ofte,\r\n     [H] Ful hendely, quen alle \u00fee ha\u00feeles re-hayted hym at one3\r\n 896             as hende;\r\n             \"\u00deis penaunce now 3e take,\r\n             & eft hit schal amende;\"\r\n     [I]     \u00deat mon much mer\u00fee con make.\r\n 900         For wyn in his hed \u00feat wende.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: A chair is placed for Sir Gawayne before the fireplace.]\r\n[Sidenote B: A mantle of fine linen, richly embroidered, is thrown over\r\n  him.]\r\n[Sidenote C: A table is soon raised,]\r\n[Sidenote D: and the knight, having washed, proceeded to meat.]\r\n[Sidenote E: He is served with numerous dishes;]\r\n[Sidenote F: with fish baked and broiled,]\r\n[Sidenote G: or boiled and seasoned with spices.]\r\n[Sidenote H: He calls it a full noble feast,]\r\n[Sidenote I: and much mirth he makes, for the wine is in his head.]\r\n[Footnote 1: MS. cefly.]\r\n[Footnote 2: swete (?).]\r\n[Footnote 3: sewes (?).]\r\n\r\n      XVII.\r\n\r\n     [A] \u00deenne wat3 spyed & spured vpon spare wyse.\r\n         Bi preue poynte3 of \u00feat prynce, put to hym-seluen,\r\n         \u00deat he be-knew cortaysly of \u00fee court \u00feat he were,\r\n 904 [B] \u00deat a\u00feel Arthure \u00fee hende halde3 hym one,\r\n         \u00deat is \u00fee ryche ryal kyng of \u00fee rounde table;\r\n         & hit wat3 Wawen hym-self \u00feat in \u00feat won sytte3,\r\n         Comen to \u00feat krystmasse, as case hym \u00feen lymped.\r\n 908 [C] When \u00fee lorde hade lerned \u00feat he \u00fee leude hade,\r\n         Loude la3ed he \u00feerat, so lef hit hym \u00feo3t,\r\n     [D] & alle \u00fee men in \u00feat mote maden much joye,\r\n         To apere in his presense prestly \u00feat tyme,\r\n 912     \u00deat alle prys, & prowes, & pured \u00feewes\r\n         Apendes to hys persoun, & praysed is euer,\r\n         By-fore alle men vpon molde, his mensk is \u00fee most.\r\n     [E] Vch segge ful softly sayde to his fere,\r\n 916 [F] \"Now schal we semlych se sle3te3 of \u00feewe3,\r\n         & \u00fee teccheles termes of talkyng noble,\r\n         Wich spede is in speche, vnspurd may we lerne,\r\n     [G] Syn we haf fonged \u00feat fyne fader of nurture;\r\n 920     God hat3 geuen vus his grace godly for so\u00fee,\r\n         \u00deat such a gest as Gawan graunte3 vus to haue,\r\n         When burne3 bly\u00fee of his bur\u00fee schal sitte\r\n                 & synge.\r\n 924         In menyng of manere3 mere,\r\n             \u00deis burne now schal vus bryng,                    [Fol. 103b.]\r\n     [H]     I hope \u00feat may hym here,\r\n             Schal lerne of luf-talkyng.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Sir Gawayne, in answer to questions put to him,]\r\n[Sidenote B: tells the prince that he is of Arthur's court.]\r\n[Sidenote C: When this was made known,]\r\n[Sidenote D: great was the joy in the hall.]\r\n[Sidenote E: Each one said softly to his mate,]\r\n[Sidenote F: \"Now we shall see courteous manners and hear noble speech,]\r\n[Sidenote G: for we have amongst us the 'father of nurture.']\r\n[Sidenote H: He that may him hear shall learn of love-talking.\"]\r\n\r\n      XVIII.\r\n\r\n 928 [A] Bi \u00feat \u00fee diner wat3 done, & \u00fee dere vp,\r\n         Hit wat3 ne3 at \u00fee niy3t ne3ed \u00fee tyme;\r\n         Chaplayne3[1] to \u00fee chapeles chosen \u00fee gate,\r\n         Rungen ful rychely, ry3t as \u00feay schulden,\r\n 932 [B] To \u00fee hersum euensong of \u00fee hy3e tyde.\r\n         \u00dee lorde loutes \u00feerto, & \u00fee lady als,\r\n         In-to a comly closet coyntly ho entre3;\r\n         Gawan glyde3 ful gay, & gos \u00feeder sone;\r\n 936     \u00dee lorde laches hym by \u00fee lappe, & lede3 hym to sytte,\r\n         & cou\u00fely hym knowe3, & calle3 hym his nome,\r\n         & sayde he wat3 \u00fee welcomest wy3e of \u00fee worlde;\r\n     [C] & he hym \u00feonkked \u00feroly, & ay\u00feer halched o\u00feer.\r\n 940     & seten soberly samen \u00fee seruise-quyle;\r\n         \u00deenne lyst \u00fee lady to loke on \u00fee kny3t.\r\n     [D] \u00deenne com ho of hir closet, with mony cler burde3,\r\n         Ho wat3 \u00fee fayrest in felle, of flesche & of lyre,\r\n 944     & of compas, & colour, & costes of alle o\u00feer,\r\n     [E] & wener \u00feen Wenore, as \u00fee wy3e \u00feo3t.\r\n         He ches \u00feur3 \u00fee chaunsel, to cheryche \u00feat hende;\r\n     [F] An o\u00feer lady hir lad bi \u00fee lyft honde,\r\n 948     \u00deat wat3 alder \u00feen ho, an auncian hit semed,\r\n         & he3ly honowred with ha\u00feele3 aboute.\r\n     [G] Bot yn-lyke on to loke \u00feo ladyes were,\r\n     [H] For if \u00fee 3onge wat3 3ep, 3ol3e wat3 \u00feat o\u00feer;\r\n 952     Riche red on \u00feat on rayled ay quere,\r\n     [I] Rugh ronkled cheke3 \u00feat o\u00feer on rolled;\r\n         Kerchofes of \u00feat on wyth mony cler perle3\r\n     [J] Hir brest & hir bry3t \u00ferote bare displayed,\r\n 956     Schon schyrer \u00feen snawe, \u00feat scheder[2] on hille3;\r\n         \u00deat o\u00feer wyth a gorger wat3 gered ouer \u00fee swyre,\r\n         Chymbled ouer hir blake chyn with mylk-quyte vayles,\r\n     [K] Hir frount folden in sylk, enfoubled ay quere,\r\n 960     Toret & treieted with tryfle3 aboute,\r\n     [L] \u00deat no3t wat3 bare of \u00feat burde bot \u00fee blake bro3es.   [Fol. 104.]\r\n         \u00dee tweyne y3en, & \u00fee nase, \u00fee naked lyppe3,\r\n         & \u00feose were soure to se, & sellyly blered;\r\n 964     A mensk lady on molde mon may hir calle,\r\n                 for gode;\r\n     [M]     Hir body wat3 schort & \u00feik.\r\n     [N]     Hir buttoke3 bay & brode,\r\n 968         More lykker-wys on to lyk,\r\n             Wat3 \u00feat scho hade on lode.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: After dinner the company go to the chapel,]\r\n[Sidenote B: to hear the evensong of the great season.]\r\n[Sidenote C: The lord of the castle and Sir Gawayne sit together during\r\n  service.]\r\n[Sidenote D: His wife, accompanied by her maids, leaves her seat.]\r\n[Sidenote E: She appeared even fairer than Guenever.]\r\n[Sidenote F: An older lady (an ancient one she seemed) led her by the\r\n  hand.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Very unlike were these two.]\r\n[Sidenote H: if the young one was fair the other was yellow,]\r\n[Sidenote I: and had rough and wrinkled cheeks.]\r\n[Sidenote J: The younger had breast and throat \"bare displayed.\"]\r\n[Sidenote K: The ancient one exposed only her \"black brows,\" her two eyes,]\r\n[Sidenote L: nose, and naked lips, all sour and bleared.]\r\n[Sidenote M: Her body was short and thick;]\r\n[Sidenote N: her buttocks broad and round.]\r\n[Footnote 1: MS. [claplayne3.]]\r\n[Footnote 2: schedes (?).]\r\n\r\n      XIX.\r\n\r\n     [A] When Gawayn gly3t on \u00feat gay, \u00feat graciously loked,\r\n         Wyth leue la3t of \u00fee lorde he went hem a3aynes;\r\n 972 [B] \u00dee alder he haylses, heldande ful lowe,\r\n         \u00dee loueloker he lappe3 a lyttel in arme3,\r\n     [C] He kysses hir comlyly, & kny3tly he mele3;\r\n         \u00deay kallen hym of a quoyntaunce, & he hit quyk aske3\r\n 976 [D] To be her seruaunt sothly, if hem-self lyked.\r\n         \u00deay tan hym bytwene hem, wyth talkyng hym leden\r\n     [E] To chambre, to chemn\u00e9, & chefly \u00feay asken\r\n     [F] Spyce3, \u00feat vn-sparely men speded hom to bryng,\r\n 980     & \u00fee wynne-lych wyne \u00feer-with vche tyme.\r\n         \u00dee lorde luflych aloft lepe3 ful ofte,\r\n         Mynned merthe to be made vpon mony sy\u00fee3.\r\n     [G] Hent he3ly of his hode, & on a spere henged,\r\n 984     & wayned hom to wynne \u00fee worchip \u00feer-of,\r\n     [H] \u00deat most myr\u00fee my3t mene[1] \u00feat crystenmas whyle;\r\n         \"& i schal fonde, bi my fayth, to fylter wyth \u00fee best,\r\n         Er me wont \u00fee wede3, with help of my frende3.\"\r\n 988     \u00deus wyth la3ande lote3 \u00fee lorde hit tayt[2] make3,\r\n     [I] For to glade sir Gawayn with gomne3 in halle\r\n                 \u00feat ny3t;\r\n             Til \u00feat hit wat3 tyme,\r\n 992         \u00dee kyng comaundet ly3t,\r\n     [J]     Sir Gawen his leue con nyme,\r\n             & to his bed hym di3t.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: With permission of the lord,]\r\n[Sidenote B: Sir Gawayne salutes the elder,]\r\n[Sidenote C: but the younger he kisses,]\r\n[Sidenote D: and begs to be her servant.]\r\n[Sidenote E: To chamber all go,]\r\n[Sidenote F: where spices and wine are served.]\r\n[Sidenote G: The lord takes off his hood and places it on a spear.]\r\n[Sidenote H: He who makes most mirth is to win it.]\r\n[Sidenote I: Night approaches, and then]\r\n[Sidenote J: Sir Gawayne takes his leave and retires to rest.]\r\n[Footnote 1: meue (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: layt (?).]\r\n\r\n      XX.\r\n\r\n     [A] On \u00fee morne, as vch mon myne3 \u00feat tyme,\r\n 996 [B] [\u00de]at dry3tyn for oure destyn\u00e9 to de3e wat3 borne,\r\n         Wele waxe3 in vche a won in worlde, for his sake;\r\n     [C] So did hit \u00feere on \u00feat day, \u00feur3 dayntes mony;\r\n         Bo\u00fee at mes & at mele, messes ful quaynt              [Fol. 104b.]\r\n1000     Derf men vpon dece drest of \u00fee best.\r\n     [D] \u00dee olde auncian wyf he3est ho sytte3;\r\n         \u00dee lorde lufly her by lent, as I trowe;\r\n     [E] Gawan & \u00fee gay burde to-geder \u00feay seten,\r\n1004     Euen in-mydde3, as \u00fee messe metely come;\r\n         & sy\u00feen \u00feur3 al \u00fee sale, as hem best semed,\r\n     [F] Bi vche grome at his degre gray\u00feely wat3 serued.\r\n         \u00deer wat3 mete, \u00feer wat3 myr\u00fee, \u00feer wat3 much ioye,\r\n1008     \u00deat for to telle \u00feerof hit me tene were,\r\n         & to poynte hit 3et I pyned me parauenture;\r\n     [G] Bot 3et I wot \u00feat Wawen & \u00fee wale burde\r\n         Such comfort of her compaynye ca3ten to-geder,\r\n1012     \u00deur3 her dere dalyaunce of her derne worde3,\r\n         Wyth clene cortays carp, closed fro fyl\u00fee;\r\n         & hor play wat3 passande vche prynce gomen,\r\n                 in vayres;\r\n1016 [H]     Trumpe3 & nakerys,\r\n             Much pypyng \u00feer repayres,\r\n             Vche mon tented hys,\r\n             & \u00feay two tented \u00feayres.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: On Christmas morn,]\r\n[Sidenote B: joy reigns in every dwelling in the world.]\r\n[Sidenote C: So did it in the castle where our knight abode.]\r\n[Sidenote D: The lord and \"the old ancient wife\" sit together.]\r\n[Sidenote E: Gawayne sits by the wife of his host.]\r\n[Sidenote F: It were too tedious to tell of the meat, the mirth, and the\r\n  joy that abounded everywhere.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Gawayne and his beautiful companion derive much comfort from\r\n  each other's conversation.]\r\n[Sidenote H: Trumpets and nakers give forth their sounds.]\r\n\r\n      XXI.\r\n\r\n1020 [A] Much dut wat3 \u00feer dryuen \u00feat day & \u00feat o\u00feer,\r\n         & \u00fee \u00feryd as \u00fero \u00feronge in \u00feerafter;\r\n     [B] \u00dee ioye of sayn Ione3 day wat3 gentyle to here,\r\n         & wat3 \u00fee last of \u00fee layk, leude3 \u00feer \u00feo3ten.\r\n1024     \u00deer wer gestes to go vpon \u00fee gray morne,\r\n         For-\u00fey wonderly \u00feay woke, & \u00fee wyn dronken,\r\n         Daunsed ful dre3ly wyth dere carole3;\r\n     [C] At \u00fee last, when hit wat3 late, \u00feay lachen her leue,\r\n1028     Vchon to wende on his way, \u00feat wat3 wy3e stronge.\r\n         Gawan gef hym god-day, \u00fee god mon hym lachche3,\r\n         Ledes hym to his awen chambre, \u00fe[e] chymn\u00e9 bysyde,\r\n     [D] & \u00feere he dra3e3 hym on-dry3e, & derely hym \u00feonkke3,\r\n1032     Of \u00fee wynne worschip &[1] he hym wayned hade,\r\n         As to honour his hous on \u00feat hy3e tyde,\r\n         & enbelyse his bur3 with his bele chere.\r\n         \"I-wysse sir, quyl I leue, me wor\u00fee3 \u00fee better,\r\n1036     \u00deat Gawayn hat3 ben my gest, at Godde3 awen fest.\"     [Fol. 105.]\r\n         \"Grant merci[2] sir,\" quod Gawayn, \"in god fayth hit is yowre3,\r\n         Al \u00fee honour is your awen, \u00fee he3e kyng yow 3elde;\r\n         & I am wy3e at your wylle, to worch youre hest,\r\n1040     As I am halden \u00feer-to, in hy3e & in lo3e,\r\n                 bi ri3t.\"\r\n     [E]     \u00dee lorde fast can hym payne,\r\n             To holde lenger \u00fee kny3t,\r\n1044         To hym answre3 Gawayn,\r\n             Bi non way \u00feat he my3t.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Great was the joy for three days.]\r\n[Sidenote B: St. John's-day was the last of the Christmas festival.]\r\n[Sidenote C: On the morrow many of the guests took their departure from the\r\n  castle.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Sir Gawayne is thanked by his host for the honour and pleasure\r\n  of his visit.]\r\n[Sidenote E: He endeavours to keep the knight at his court.]\r\n[Footnote 1: \u00feat (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: nerci, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      XXII.\r\n\r\n     [A] Then frayned \u00fee freke ful fayre at him-seluen,\r\n         Quat derne[1] dede had hym dryuen, at \u00feat dere tyme,\r\n1048     So kenly fro \u00fee kynge3 kourt to kayre al his one,\r\n         Er \u00fee halidaye3 holly were halet out of toun?\r\n     [B] \"For so\u00fee sir,\" quod \u00fee segge, \"3e sayn bot \u00fee traw\u00fee\r\n         A he3e ernde & a hasty me hade fro \u00feo wone3,\r\n1052     For I am sumned my selfe to sech to a place,\r\n         I wot[2] in worlde wheder warde to wende, hit to fynde;\r\n         I nolde, bot if I hit negh my3t on nw3eres morne,\r\n         For alle \u00fee londe in-wyth Logres, so me oure lorde help!\r\n1056     For-\u00fey, sir, \u00feis enquest I require yow here,\r\n     [C] \u00deat 3e me telle with traw\u00fee, if euer 3e tale herde\r\n         Of \u00fee grene chapel, quere hit on grounde stonde3,\r\n         & of \u00fee kny3t \u00feat hit kepes, of colour of grene?\r\n1060     \u00deer wat3 stabled bi statut a steuen vus by-twene,\r\n     [D] To mete \u00feat mon at \u00feat mere, 3if I my3t last;\r\n         & of \u00feat ilk nw3ere hot neked now wonte3,\r\n         & I wolde loke on \u00feat lede, if God me let wolde,\r\n1064     Gladloker, bi Godde3 sun, \u00feen any god welde!\r\n         For-\u00fei, I-wysse, bi 3owre wylle, wende me bi-houes,\r\n     [E] Naf I now to busy bot bare \u00fere daye3,\r\n         & me als fayn to falle feye as fayly of myyn ernde.\"\r\n1068 [F] \u00deenne la3ande quod \u00fee lorde, \"now leng \u00fee by-houes,\r\n         For I schal teche yow to \u00fea[t] terme bi \u00fee tyme3 ende,\r\n         \u00dee grene chapayle vpon grounde, greue yow no more;\r\n         Bot 3e schal be in yowre bed, burne, at \u00feyn ese,\r\n1072     Quyle forth dayej, & ferk on pe fyrst of pe 3ere,\r\n         & cum to \u00feat merk at mydmorn, to make quat yow like3   [Fol. 105b]\r\n                 in spenne;\r\n             Dowelle3 whyle new 3eres daye,\r\n1076         & rys, & rayke3 \u00feenne,\r\n     [G]     Mon schal yow sette in waye,\r\n             Hit is not two myle henne.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: He desires to know what had driven Sir Gawayne from Arthur's\r\n  court before the end of the Christmas holidays.]\r\n[Sidenote B: The knight replies that \"a high errand and a hasty one\" had\r\n  forced him to leave the court.]\r\n[Sidenote C: He asks his host whether he has ever heard of the Green\r\n  Chapel,]\r\n[Sidenote D: for he has to be there on New Year's-day.]\r\n[Sidenote E: He wonld as lief die as fail in his errand.]\r\n[Sidenote F: The prince tells Sir Gawayne that he will teach him the way.]\r\n[Sidenote G: The Green chapel is not more than two miles from the castle.]\r\n[Footnote 1: derue (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: not (?).]\r\n\r\n      XXIII.\r\n\r\n     [A] \u00deenne wat3 Gawan ful glad, & gomenly he la3ed,--\r\n1080     \"Now I \u00feonk yow \u00feryuandely \u00feur3 alle o\u00feer \u00feynge,\r\n     [B] Now acheued is my chaunce, I schal at your wylle\r\n         Dowelle, & elle3 do quat 3e demen.\"\r\n         \u00deenne sesed hym \u00fee syre, & set hym bysyde,\r\n1084 [C] Let \u00fee ladie3 be fette, to lyke hem \u00fee better;\r\n         \u00deer wat3 seme solace by hem-self stille;\r\n         \u00dee lorde let for luf lote3 so myry,\r\n         As wy3 \u00feat wolde of his wyte, ne wyst quat he my3t.\r\n1088     \u00deenne he carped to \u00fee kny3t, criande loude,\r\n     [D] \"3e han demed to do \u00fee dede \u00feat I bidde;\r\n         Wyl 3e halde \u00feis hes here at \u00feys one3?\"\r\n         \"3e sir, for-so\u00fee,\" sayd \u00fee segge trwe,\r\n1092     \"Whyl I byde in yowre bor3e, be bayn to 3ow[r]e hest.\"\r\n         \"For 3e haf trauayled,\" quod \u00fee tulk, \"towen fro ferre,\r\n         & sy\u00feen waked me wyth, 3e arn not wel waryst,\r\n     [E] Nau\u00feer of sostnaunce ne of slepe, so\u00fely I knowe;\r\n1096     3e schal lenge in your lofte, & ly3e in your ese,\r\n     [F] To morn quyle \u00fee messe-quyle, & to mete wende,\r\n         When 3e wyl, wyth my wyf, \u00feat wyth yow schal sitte,\r\n         & comfort yow with compayny, til I to cort torne,\r\n1100             3e lende;\r\n             & I schal erly ryse,\r\n             On huntyng wyl I wende.\"\r\n     [G]     Gauayn grante3 alle \u00feyse,\r\n1104         Hym heldande, as \u00fee hende.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Then was Gawayne glad,]\r\n[Sidenote B: and consents to tarry awhile at the castle.]\r\n[Sidenote C: The ladies are brought in to solace him.]\r\n[Sidenote D: The lord of the castle asks the knight to grant him one\r\n  request;]\r\n[Sidenote E: That he will stay in his chamber during mass time,]\r\n[Sidenote F: and then go to meat with his hostess.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Gawayne accedes to his request.]\r\n\r\n      XXIV.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"3et firre,\" quod \u00fee freke, \"a forwarde we make;\r\n         Quat-so-euer I wynne in \u00fee wod, hit wor\u00fee3 to youre3,\r\n     [B] & quat chek so 3e acheue, chaunge me \u00feer-forne;\r\n1108     Swete, swap we so, sware with traw\u00fee,\r\n         Que\u00feer, leude, so lymp lere o\u00feer better.\"\r\n         \"Bi God,\" quod Gawayn \u00fee gode, \"I grant \u00feer-tylle,\r\n         & \u00feat yow lyst forto layke, lef hit me \u00feynkes.         [Fol. 106.]\r\n1112 [C] \"Who bringe3 vus \u00feis beuerage, \u00feis bargayn is maked:\"\r\n         So sayde \u00fee lorde of \u00feat lede; \u00feay la3ed vchone,\r\n         \u00deay dronken, & daylyeden, & dalten vnty3tel,[1]\r\n         \u00deise lorde3 & ladye3, quyle \u00feat hem lyked;\r\n1116     & sy\u00feen with frenkysch fare & fele fayre lote3\r\n         \u00deay stoden, & stemed, & stylly speken,\r\n         Kysten ful comlyly, & ka3ten her leue.\r\n     [D] With mony leude ful ly3t, & lemande torches,\r\n1120     Vche burne to his bed wat3 bro3t at \u00fee laste,\r\n                 ful softe;\r\n             To bed 3et er \u00feay 3ede,\r\n             Recorded couenaunte3 ofte;\r\n1124         \u00dee olde lorde of \u00feat leude,[2]\r\n             Cow\u00fee wel halde layk a-lofte.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"Whatsoever,\" says the host, \"I win in the wood shall be\r\n  yours,]\r\n[Sidenote B: and what check you achieve shall be mine.\"]\r\n[Sidenote C: A bargain is made between them.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Night approaches and each \"to his bed was brought at the\r\n  last.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: vntyl ny3te (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: lede (?).]\r\n\r\n[FYTTE THE THIRD.]\r\n\r\n      I.\r\n\r\n     [A] Ful erly bifore \u00fee day \u00fee folk vp-rysen,\r\n         Gestes \u00feat go wolde, hor grome3 \u00feay calden,\r\n1128 [B] & \u00feay busken vp bilyue, blonkke3 to sadel,\r\n         Tyffen he[r] takles, trussen her males,\r\n         Richen hem \u00fee rychest, to ryde alle arayde,\r\n         Lepen vp ly3tly, lachen her brydeles,\r\n1132 [C] Vche wy3e on his way, \u00feer hym wel lyked.\r\n     [D] \u00dee leue lorde of \u00fee londe wat3 not \u00fee last,\r\n         A-rayed for \u00fee rydyng, with renkke3 ful mony;\r\n     [E] Ete a sop hastyly, when he hade herde masse,\r\n1136     With bugle to bent felde he buske3 by-lyue;\r\n     [F] By \u00feat \u00feat any day-ly3t lemed vpon er\u00fee,\r\n         He with his ha\u00feeles on hy3e horsses weren.\r\n     [G] \u00deenne \u00feise cacheres \u00feat cou\u00fee, cowpled hor hounde3,\r\n1140     Vnclosed \u00fee kenel dore, & calde hem \u00feer-oute,\r\n     [H] Blwe bygly in bugle3 \u00fere bare mote;\r\n         Braches bayed \u00feerfore, & breme noyse maked,\r\n     [I] & \u00feay chastysed, & charred, on chasyng \u00feat went;\r\n1144     A hundreth of hunteres, as I haf herde telle,\r\n                 of \u00fee best;\r\n     [J]     To trystors vewters 3od,\r\n             Couples huntes of kest,\r\n1148         \u00deer ros for blaste3 gode,                         [Fol. 106b.]\r\n     [K]     Gret rurd in \u00feat forest.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Before day-break folks uprise,]\r\n[Sidenote B: saddle their horses, and truss their mails.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Each goes where it pleases him best.]\r\n[Sidenote D: The noble lord of the land arrays himself for riding.]\r\n[Sidenote E: He eats a sop hastily and goes to mass.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Before day-light he and his men are on their horses.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Then the hounds are called out and coupled.]\r\n[Sidenote H: Three short notes are blown by the bugles.]\r\n[Sidenote I: A hundred hunters join in the chase.]\r\n[Sidenote J: To the stations the \"fewters\" go,]\r\n[Sidenote K: and the dogs are cast off.]\r\n\r\n      II.\r\n\r\n     [A] At \u00fee fyrst quethe of \u00fee quest quaked \u00fee wylde;\r\n         Der drof in \u00fee dale, doted for drede,\r\n1152     Hi3ed to \u00fee hy3e, bot heterly \u00feay were\r\n     [B] Restayed with \u00fee stablye, \u00feat stoutly ascryed;\r\n     [C] \u00deay let \u00fee hertte3 haf \u00fee gate, with \u00fee hy3e hedes,\r\n         \u00dee breme bukke3 also, with hor brode paume3;\r\n1156     For \u00fee fre lorde hade de-fende in fermysoun tyme,\r\n         \u00deat \u00feer schulde no mon mene[1] to \u00fee male dere.\r\n     [D] \u00dee hinde3 were halden in, with hay & war,\r\n         \u00dee does dryuen with gret dyn to \u00fee depe slade3;\r\n1160     \u00deer my3t mon se, as \u00feay slypte, slentyng of arwes,\r\n     [E] At vche [\u00feat] wende vnder wande wapped a flone,\r\n         \u00deat bigly bote on \u00fee broun, with ful brode hede3,\r\n     [F] What! \u00feay brayen, & bleden, bi bonkke3 \u00feay de3en.\r\n1164     & ay rachches in a res radly hem fol3es,\r\n         Huntere3 wyth hy3e horne hasted hem after,\r\n     [G] Wyth such a crakkande kry, as klyffes haden brusten;\r\n         What wylde so at-waped wy3es \u00feat schotten,\r\n1168     Wat3 al to-raced & rent, at \u00fee resayt.\r\n         Bi \u00feay were tened at \u00fee hy3e, & taysed to \u00fee wattre3,\r\n         \u00dee lede3 were so lerned at \u00fee lo3e trysteres,\r\n         & \u00fee gre-hounde3 so grete, \u00feat geten hem bylyue,\r\n1172     & hem to fylched, as fast as freke3 my3t loke,\r\n                 \u00feer ry3t.\r\n     [H]     \u00dee lorde for blys abloy\r\n             Ful oft con launce & ly3t,\r\n1176 [I]     & drof \u00feat day wyth Ioy\r\n             Thus to \u00fee derk ny3t.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Roused by the clamour the deer rush to the heights,]\r\n[Sidenote B: but are soon driven back.]\r\n[Sidenote C: The harts and bucks are allowed to pass,]\r\n[Sidenote D: but the hinds and does are driven back to the shades.]\r\n[Sidenote E: As they fly they are shot by the bowmen.]\r\n[Sidenote F: The hounds and the hunters, with a loud cry, follow in\r\n  pursuit.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Those that escaped the arrows are killed by the hounds.]\r\n[Sidenote H: The lord waxes joyful in the chase,]\r\n[Sidenote I: which lasted till the approach of night.]\r\n[Footnote 1: meue (?).]\r\n\r\n      III.\r\n\r\n     [A] \u00deus layke3 \u00feis lorde by lynde wode3 eue3,\r\n         & G. \u00fee god mon, in gay bed lyge3,\r\n1180 [B] Lurkke3 quyl \u00fee day-ly3t lemed on \u00fee wowes,\r\n         Vnder couertour ful clere, cortyned aboute;\r\n         & as in slomeryng he slode, sle3ly he herde\r\n     [C] A littel dyn at his dor, & derfly vpon;\r\n1184     & he heue3 vp his hed out of \u00fee clo\u00fees,\r\n         A corner of \u00fee cortyn he ca3t vp a lyttel,             [Fol. 107.]\r\n         & wayte3 warly \u00feider-warde, quat hit be my3t.\r\n     [D] Hit wat3 \u00fee ladi, loflyest to be-holde,\r\n1188     \u00deat dro3 \u00fee dor after hir ful dernly[1] & stylle,\r\n     [E] & bo3ed to-warde \u00fee bed; & \u00fee burne schamed.\r\n         & layde hym doun lystyly, & let as he slepte.\r\n     [F] & ho stepped stilly. & stel to his bedde,\r\n1192 [G] Kest vp \u00fee cortyn, & creped with-inne,\r\n         & set hir ful softly on \u00fee bed-syde,\r\n         & lenged \u00feere selly longe, to loke quen he wakened.\r\n         \u00dee lede lay lurked a ful longe quyle,\r\n1196 [H] Compast in his concience to quat \u00feat cace my3t\r\n         Mene o\u00feer amount, to meruayle hym \u00feo3t;\r\n         Bot 3et he sayde in hym-self, \"more semly hit were\r\n         To aspye wyth my spelle [in] space quat ho wolde.\"\r\n1200 [I] \u00feen he wakenede, & wroth, & to hir warde torned,\r\n     [J] & vn-louked his y3e-lydde3, & let as hym wondered,\r\n         & sayned hym, as bi his sa3e \u00fee sauer to worthe,\r\n                 with hande;\r\n1204         Wyth chynne & cheke ful swete,\r\n             Bo\u00fee quit & red in-blande,\r\n             Ful lufly con ho lete,\r\n             Wyth lyppe3 smal la3ande.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: All this time Gawayne lies a-bed.]\r\n[Sidenote B: under \"coverture full clear\".]\r\n[Sidenote C: He hears a noise at his door.]\r\n[Sidenote D: A lady, the loveliest to behold, enters softly.]\r\n[Sidenote E: She approaches the bed.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Gawayne pretends to be asleep.]\r\n[Sidenote G: The lady casts up the curtain and sits on the bedside.]\r\n[Sidenote H: Gawayne has much wonder thereat.]\r\n[Sidenote I: He rouses himself up,]\r\n[Sidenote J: unlocks his eyes, and looks as if he were astonished.]\r\n[Footnote 1: deruly (?).]\r\n\r\n      IV.\r\n\r\n1208 [A] \"God moroun, sir Gawayn,\" sayde \u00feat fayr lady,\r\n         \"3e ar a sleper vn-sly3e, \u00feat mon may slyde hider;\r\n         Now ar 3e tan astyt, bot true vus may schape,\r\n     [B] I schal bynde yow in your bedde, \u00feat be 3e trayst:\"\r\n1212     Al la3ande \u00fee lady lanced \u00feo bourde3.\r\n     [C] \"Goud moroun g[aye],\"[1] quod Gawayn \u00fee bly\u00fee,\r\n         \"Me schal wor\u00fee at your wille, & \u00feat me wel lyke3,\r\n         For I 3elde me 3ederly, & 3e3e after grace,\r\n1216     & \u00feat is \u00fee best, be my dome, for me by-houe3 nede;\"\r\n         & \u00feus he bourded a-3ayn with mony a bly\u00fee la3ter.\r\n     [D] \"Bot wolde 3e, lady louely, \u00feen leue me grante,\r\n         & de-prece your prysoun, & pray hym to ryse,\r\n1220     I wolde bo3e of \u00feis bed, & busk me better,\r\n         I schulde keuer \u00fee more comfort to karp yow wyth.\"\r\n     [E] \"Nay, for so\u00fee, beau sir,\" sayd \u00feat swete,             [Fol. 107b]\r\n         \"3e schal not rise of your bedde, I rych yow better,\r\n1224 [F] I schal happe yow here \u00feat o\u00feer half als,\r\n         & sy\u00feen karp wyth my kny3t \u00feat I ka3t haue;\r\n     [G] For I wene wel, Iwysse, sir Wawen 3e are,\r\n         \u00deat alle \u00fee worlde worchipe3, quere-so 3e ride;\r\n1228     Your honour, your hendelayk is hendely praysed\r\n     [H] With lorde3, wyth ladyes, with alle \u00feat lyf bere.\r\n         & now 3e ar here, iwysse, & we bot oure one;\r\n     [I] \"My lorde & his lede3 ar on len\u00fee faren,\r\n1232 [J] O\u00feer burne3 in her bedde, & my burde3 als,\r\n     [K] \u00dee dor drawen, & dit with a derf haspe;\r\n     [L] & sy\u00feen I haue in \u00feis hous hym \u00feat al lyke3,\r\n         I schal ware my whyle wel, quyl hit laste3,\r\n1236             with tale;\r\n     [M]     3e ar welcum to my cors,\r\n             Yowre awen won to wale,\r\n             Me be-houe3 of fyne force,\r\n1240 [N]     Your seruaunt be & schale.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"Good morrow\", says the lady, \"ye are a careless sleeper to\r\n  let one enter thus.]\r\n[Sidenote B: I shall bind you in your bed, of that be ye sure.\"]\r\n[Sidenote C: \"Good morrow,\" says the knight, \"I am well pleased to be at\r\n  your service;]\r\n[Sidenote D: but permit me to rise and dress myself.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: \"Nay, beau sir,\" said that sweet one,]\r\n[Sidenote F: \"I shall hold talk with you here.]\r\n[Sidenote G: I know well that you are Gawayne that all the woild worships.]\r\n[Sidenote H: We are by ourselves;]\r\n[Sidenote I: My lord and his men are far off.]\r\n[Sidenote J: Other men are in their beds, so are my maidens.]\r\n[Sidenote K: The door is safely closed.]\r\n[Sidenote L: Since I have him in house that every one likes, I shall use my\r\n  time well while it lasts.]\r\n[Sidenote M: Ye are welcome to my body.]\r\n[Sidenote N: I shall be your servant.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: This word is illegible in the MS.]\r\n\r\n      V.\r\n\r\n         \"In god fayth,\" quod Gawayn, \"gayn hit me \u00feynkke3,\r\n     [A] \u00dea3 I be not now he \u00feat 3e of speken;\r\n         To reche to such reuerence as 3e reherce here\r\n1244     I am wy3e vn-wor\u00fey, I wot wel my-seluen;\r\n         Bi God, I were glad, & yow god \u00feo3t,\r\n     [B] At sa3e o\u00feer at seruyce \u00feat I sette my3t\r\n         To \u00fee plesaunce of your prys, hit were a pure ioye.\"\r\n1248     \"In god fayth, sir Gawayn,\" quod \u00fee gay lady,\r\n         \"\u00dee prys & \u00fee prowes \u00feat plese3 al o\u00feer,\r\n         If I hit lakked, o\u00feer set at ly3t, hit were littel daynt\u00e9;\r\n     [C] Bot hit ar ladyes in-no3e, \u00feat leuer wer now\u00fee\r\n1252     Haf \u00fee hende in hor holde, as I \u00fee habbe here,\r\n         To daly witt derely your daynt\u00e9 worde3,\r\n         Keuer hem comfort, & colen her care3,\r\n     [D] \u00deen much of \u00fee garysourn o\u00feer golde \u00feat[1] \u00feay hauen;\r\n1256     Bot I louue[2] \u00feat ilk lorde \u00feat \u00fee lyfte halde3,\r\n         I haf hit holly in my honde \u00feat al desyres,\r\n                 \u00feur3e grace.\"\r\n             Scho made hym so gret chere,\r\n1260         \u00deat wat3 so fayr of face,                          [Fol. 108.]\r\n     [E]     \u00dee kny3t with speches skere,\r\n             A[n]swared to vche a cace.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"I am unworthy,\" says Sir Gawayne, \"to reach to such reverence\r\n  as ye rehearse.]\r\n[Sidenote B: I shall be glad, however, to please you by word, or service.\"]\r\n[Sidenote C: \"There are ladies,\" says his visitor, \"who would prefer thy\r\n  company]\r\n[Sidenote D: to much of the gold that they possess.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: The knight answers the lady's questions.]\r\n[Footnote 1: MS. \u00feat \u00feat.]\r\n[Footnote 2: louie or loune (?).]\r\n\r\n      VI.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"Madame,\" quod \u00fee myry mon, \"Mary yow 3elde,\r\n1264     For I haf founden, in god fayth, yowre fraunchis nobele,\r\n         & o\u00feer ful much of o\u00feer folk fongen hor dede3;\r\n         Bot \u00fee daynt\u00e9 \u00feat \u00feay delen for my disert nysen,\r\n         Hit is \u00fee worchyp of your-self, \u00feat no3t hot wel conne3.\"\r\n1268 [B] \"Bi Mary,\" quod \u00fee menskful, \"me \u00feynk hit ano\u00feer;\r\n         For were I worth al \u00fee wone of wymmen alyue,\r\n         & al \u00fee wele of \u00fee worlde were in my honde,\r\n     [C] & I schulde chepen & chose, to cheue me a lorde,\r\n1272     For \u00fee costes \u00feat I haf knowen vpun \u00fee kny3t here,\r\n         Of bewt\u00e9, & debonert\u00e9, & bly\u00fee semblaunt,\r\n     [D] & \u00feat I haf er herkkened, & halde hit here trwee,\r\n         \u00deer schulde no freke vpon folde bifore yow be chosen.\"\r\n1276     \"I-wysse, wor\u00fey,\" quod \u00fee wy3e, \"3e haf waled wel better,\r\n     [E] Bot I am proude of \u00fee prys \u00feat 3e put on me,\r\n         & soberly your seruaunt my souerayn I holde yow,\r\n         & yowre kny3t I be-com, & Kryst yow for-3elde.\"\r\n1280     \u00deus \u00feay meled of much-quat, til myd-morn paste,\r\n         & ay \u00fee lady let lyk, a[1] hym loued mych;\r\n     [F] \u00dee freke ferde with defence, & feted ful fayre.\r\n         \u00dea3 I were burde bry3test, \u00fee burde in mynde hade,\r\n1284     \u00dee lasse luf in his lode, for lur \u00feat he so3t,\r\n                 boute hone;\r\n             \u00dee dunte \u00feat schulde[2] hym deue,\r\n             & nede3 hit most be done;\r\n1288 [G]     \u00dee lady \u00feenn spek of leue.\r\n             He granted hir ful sone.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Gawayne tells her that he prefers her conversation before that\r\n  of all others.]\r\n[Sidenote B: The lady declares by Mary,]\r\n[Sidenote C: that were she about to choose her a lord,]\r\n[Sidenote D: she would select Gawayne before any man on earth.]\r\n[Sidenote E: Gawayne tells her that he will become her own knight and\r\n  faithful servant.]\r\n[Sidenote F: The remembrance of his adventure prevents him from thinking of\r\n  love.]\r\n[Sidenote G: The lady takes leave of Sir Gawayne.]\r\n[Footnote 1: and (?)]\r\n[Footnote 2: sclulde, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      VII.\r\n\r\n     [A] \u00deenne ho gef hym god-day, & wyth a glent la3ed.\r\n         & as ho stod, ho stonyed hym wyth ful stor worde3:\r\n1292 [B] \"Now he \u00feat spede3 vche spech, \u00feis disport 3elde yow!\r\n         Bot \u00feat 3e be Gawan, hit got3 in mynde.\"\r\n         \"Quer-fore?\" quod \u00fee freke, & freschly he aske3,\r\n         Ferde lest he hade fayled in fourme of his castes;\r\n1296     Bot \u00fee burde hym blessed, & bi \u00feis skyl sayde,\r\n         \"So god as Gawayn gaynly is halden,                   [Fol. 108b.]\r\n         & cortaysye is closed so clene in hym-seluen,\r\n     [C] Couth not ly3tly haf lenged so long wyth a lady,\r\n1300     Bot he had craued a cosse, bi his courtaysye,\r\n         Bi sum towch of summe tryfle, at sum tale3 ende.\"\r\n     [D] \u00deen quod Wowen, \"I-wysse, wor\u00fee as yow lyke3,\r\n         I schal kysse at your comaundement, as a kny3t falle3,\r\n1304     & fire[1] lest he displese yow, so[2] plede hit no more.\"\r\n     [E] Ho comes nerre with \u00feat, & cache3 hym in arme3,\r\n         Loute3 luflych adoun, & \u00fee leude kysse3;\r\n         \u00deay comly bykennen to Kryst ay\u00feer o\u00feer;\r\n1308     Ho dos hir forth at \u00fee dore, with-outen dyn more.\r\n         & he ryches hym to ryse, & rapes hym sone,\r\n     [F] Clepes to his chamberlayn, choses his wede,\r\n         Bo3e3 forth, quen he wat3 boun, bly\u00feely to masse,\r\n1312     & \u00feenne he meued to his mete, \u00feat menskly hym keped,\r\n     [G] & made myry al day til \u00fee mone rysed,\r\n                 with game;\r\n             With[3] neuer freke fayrer fonge,\r\n1316 [H]     Bitwene two so dyngne dame,\r\n             \u00dee alder & \u00fee 3onge,\r\n             Much solace set \u00feay same.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: With a laughing glance, she says,]\r\n[Sidenote B: \"I am doubtful whether ye be Gawayne.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Were it he, surely, ere this, he would have craved a kiss.\"]\r\n[Sidenote D: \"I shall kiss,\" says the knight, \"at your commandment.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: With that the lady catches him in her arms and kisses him.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Gawayne then rises and goes to mass.]\r\n[Sidenote G: He makes mirth all day till the moon rises,]\r\n[Sidenote H: between the \"two dames,\" the older and the younger.]\r\n[Footnote 1: fere (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: fo, in MS.]\r\n[Footnote 3: Was (?) Nas (?).]\r\n\r\n      VIII.\r\n\r\n     [A] And ay \u00fee lorde of \u00fee londe is lent on his gamne3,\r\n1320     To hunt in holte3 & he\u00fee, at hynde3 barayne,\r\n         Such a sowme he \u00feer slowe bi \u00feat \u00fee sunne heldet,\r\n         Of dos & of o\u00feer dere, to deme were wonder.\r\n         \u00deenne fersly \u00feay flokked in folk at \u00fee laste,\r\n1324 [B] & quykly of \u00fee quelled dere a querr\u00e9 \u00feay maked;\r\n         \u00dee best bo3ed \u00feerto, with burne3 in-noghe,\r\n     [C] Gedered \u00fee grattest of gres \u00feat \u00feer were,\r\n         & didden hem derely vndo, as \u00fee dede aske3;\r\n1328 [D] Serched hem at \u00fee asay, summe \u00feat \u00feer were,\r\n         Two fyngeres \u00feay fonde of \u00fee fowlest of alle;\r\n     [E] Sy\u00feen \u00feay slyt \u00fee slot, sesed \u00fee erber,\r\n     [F] Schaued wyth a scharp knyf, & \u00fee schyre knitten;\r\n1332     Sy\u00feen rytte \u00feay \u00fee foure lymmes, & rent of \u00fee hyde,\r\n     [G] \u00deen brek \u00feay \u00fee bale, \u00fee bale3 out token,\r\n     [H] Lystily forlancyng, & bere of \u00fee knot;                 [Fol. 109.]\r\n          \u00deay gryped to \u00fee gargulun, & gray\u00feely departed\r\n1336 [I] \u00dee wesaunt fro \u00fee wynt-hole, & walt out \u00fee gutte3;\r\n         \u00deen scher \u00feay out \u00fee schuldere3 with her scharp knyue3,\r\n     [J] Haled hem by a lyttel hole, to haue hole sydes;\r\n         Si\u00feen britned \u00feay \u00fee brest, & brayden hit in twynne,\r\n1340     & eft at \u00fee gargulun bigyne3 on \u00feenne,\r\n     [K] Ryue3 hit vp radly, ry3t to \u00fee by3t,\r\n         Voyde3 out \u00fee a-vanters, & verayly \u00feerafter\r\n         Alle \u00fee ryme3 by \u00fee rybbe3 radly \u00feay lance;\r\n1344     So ryde \u00feay of by resoun bi \u00fee rygge bone3,\r\n         Euenden to \u00fee haunche, \u00feat henged alle samen,\r\n         & heuen hit vp al hole, & hwen hit of \u00feere,\r\n         & \u00feat \u00feayneme for \u00fee noumbles, bi nome as I trowe,\r\n1348             bi kynde;\r\n     [L]     Bi \u00fee by3t al of \u00fee \u00fey3es,\r\n             \u00dee lappe3 \u00feay lance bi-hynde,\r\n     [M]     To hewe hit in two \u00feay hy3es,\r\n1352         Bi \u00fee bak-bon to vnbynde.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Meanwhile the lord of the land and his men hunt in woods and\r\n  heaths.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Quickly of the killed a \"quarry\" they make.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Then they set about breaking the deer.]\r\n[Sidenote D: They take away the assay or fat,]\r\n[Sidenote E: then they slit the slot and remove the erber.]\r\n[Sidenote F: They afterwards rip the four limbs and rend off the hide.]\r\n[Sidenote G: They next open the belly]\r\n[Sidenote H: and take out the bowels.]\r\n[Sidenote I: They then separate the weasand from the windhole and throw out\r\n  the guts.]\r\n[Sidenote J: The shoulders are cut out, and the breast divided into\r\n  halves.]\r\n[Sidenote K: The numbles are next removed.]\r\n[Sidenote L: By the fork of the thighs,]\r\n[Sidenote M: the flaps are hewn in two by the backbone.]\r\n\r\n      IX.\r\n\r\n     [A] Bo\u00fee \u00fee hede & \u00fee hals \u00feay hwen of \u00feenne,\r\n         & sy\u00feen sunder \u00feay \u00fee syde3 swyft fro \u00fee chyne,\r\n         & \u00fee corbeles fee \u00feay kest in a greue;[1]\r\n1356     \u00deenn \u00feurled \u00feay ay\u00feer \u00feik side \u00feur3, bi \u00fee rybbe,\r\n         & henged \u00feenne a[y]\u00feer bi ho3es of \u00fee fourche3,\r\n         Vche freke for his fee, as falle3 forto haue.\r\n         Vpon a felle of \u00fee fayre best, fede \u00feay \u00feayr houndes,\r\n1360 [B] Wyth \u00fee lyuer & \u00fee ly3te3, \u00fee le\u00feer of \u00fee paunche3,\r\n         & bred ba\u00feed in blod, blende \u00feer amonge3;\r\n         Baldely \u00feay blw prys, bayed \u00feayr rachche3,\r\n     [C] Sy\u00feen fonge \u00feay her flesche folden to home,\r\n1364     Strakande ful stoutly mony stif mote3.\r\n         Bi \u00feat \u00fee dayly3t wat3 done, \u00fee douthe wat3 al wonen\r\n         In-to \u00fee comly castel, \u00feer \u00fee kny3t bide3\r\n                 ful stille;\r\n1368         Wyth blys & bry3t fyr bette,\r\n             \u00dee lord is comen \u00feer-tylle,\r\n     [D]     When Gawayn wyth hym mette,\r\n             \u00deer wat3 bot wele at wylle.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: After this the head and neck are cut off, and the sides\r\n  severed from the chine.]\r\n[Sidenote B: With the liver, lights and paunches, they feed the hounds.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Then they make for home.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Gawayne goes out to meet his host.]\r\n[Footnote 1: grene (?).]\r\n\r\n      X.\r\n\r\n1372 [A] Thenne comaunded \u00fee lorde in \u00feat sale to samen alle \u00fee meny,[Fol.]\r\n         Bo\u00fee \u00fee ladyes on loghe to ly3t with her burdes,           [109b.]\r\n     [B] Bi-fore alle \u00fee folk on \u00fee flette, freke3 he bedde3\r\n         Verayly his venysoun to fech hym byforne;\r\n1376 [C] & al godly in gomen Gaway[n] he called,\r\n         Teche3 hym to \u00fee tayles of ful tayt bestes,\r\n         Schewe3 hym \u00fee schyree grece schorne vpon rybbes.\r\n     [D] \"How paye3 yow \u00feis play? haf I prys wonnen?\r\n1380     Haue I \u00feryuandely \u00feonk \u00feur3 my craft serued?\"\r\n         \"3e I-wysse,\" quod \u00feat o\u00feer wy3e, \"here is wayth fayrest\r\n     [E] \u00deat I se3 \u00feis seuen 3ere in sesoun of wynter.\"\r\n         \"& al I gif yow, Gawayn,\" quod \u00fee gome \u00feenne,\r\n1384     \"For by a-corde of couenaunt 3e craue hit as your awen.\"\r\n         \"\u00deis is soth,\" quod \u00fee segge, \"I say yow \u00featilke,\r\n         &[1] I haf worthyly \u00feis wone3 wyth-inne,\r\n     [F] I-wysse with as god wylle hit wor\u00fee3 to 3oure3.\"\r\n1388     He hasppe3 his fayre hals his arme3 wyth-inne,\r\n         & kysses hym as comlyly as he[2] cou\u00fee awyse:\r\n         \"Tas yow \u00feere my cheuicaunce, I cheued no more,\r\n         I wowche hit saf fynly, \u00fea3 feler hit were.\"\r\n1392     \"Hit is god,\" quod \u00fee god mon, \"grant mercy \u00feerfore,\r\n     [G] Hit may be such, hit is \u00fee better, &[1] 3e me breue wolde\r\n         Where 3e wan \u00feis ilk wele, biwytte of hor[3] seluen?\"\r\n     [H] \"\u00deat wat3 not forward,\" quod he, \"frayst me no more,\r\n1396     For 3e haftan \u00feat yow tyde3, trawe3e non o\u00feer\r\n                 3e mowe.\"\r\n             \u00deay la3ed, & made hem bly\u00fee,\r\n     [I]     Wyth lote3 \u00feat were to lowe,\r\n1400         To soper \u00feay 3ede asswy\u00fee,\r\n             Wyth dayntes nwe in-nowe.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The lord commands all his household to assemble,]\r\n[Sidenote B: and the venison to be brought before him.]\r\n[Sidenote C: He calls Gawayne,]\r\n[Sidenote D: and asks him whether he does not deserve much praise for his\r\n  success in the chase.]\r\n[Sidenote E: On the knight expressing himself satisfied, he is told to take\r\n  the whole according to a former agreement between them.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Gawayne gives the knight a comely kiss in return.]\r\n[Sidenote G: His host desires to know where he has gotten such weal.]\r\n[Sidenote H: As this does not enter into the covenant, he gets no answer to\r\n  his question.]\r\n[Sidenote I: They then proceed to supper, where were dainties new and\r\n  enough.]\r\n[Footnote 1: And = an.]\r\n[Footnote 2: ho, in MS.]\r\n[Footnote 3: your (?).]\r\n\r\n      XI.\r\n\r\n     [A] And sy\u00feen by \u00fee chymn\u00e9 in chamber \u00feay seten.\r\n     [B] Wy3e3 \u00fee walle wyn we3ed to hem oft,\r\n1404     & efte in her bourdyng \u00feay bay\u00feen in \u00fee morn,\r\n         To fylle \u00fee same forwarde3 \u00feat \u00feay by-fore maden,\r\n     [C] \u00deat chaunce so bytyde3 hor cheuysaunce to chaunge,\r\n         What nwe3 so \u00feay nome, at na3t quen \u00feay metten\r\n1408     \u00deay acorded of \u00fee couenaunte3 byfore \u00fee court alle;\r\n         \u00dee beuerage wat3 bro3t forth in bourde at \u00feat tyme;    [Fol. 110.]\r\n     [D] \u00deenne \u00feay louelych le3ten leue at \u00fee last,\r\n         Vche burne to his bedde busked bylyue.\r\n1412 [E] Bi \u00feat \u00fee coke hade crowe3[1] & cakled bot \u00feryse,\r\n         \u00dee lorde wat3 lopen of his bedde, [&] \u00fee leude3 vch one,\r\n         So \u00feat \u00fee mete & \u00fee masse wat3 metely delyuered;\r\n         \u00dee douthe dressed to \u00fee wod, er any day sprenged,\r\n1416             to chace;\r\n     [F]     He3 with hunte & horne3,\r\n             \u00deur3 playne3 \u00feay passe in space,\r\n             Vn-coupled among \u00feo \u00feorne3,\r\n1420         Rache3 \u00feat ran on race.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: By the hearth they sit.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Wine is carried round.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Again Sir Gawayne and his host renew their agreement.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Then they take leave of each other and hasten to bed.]\r\n[Sidenote E: Scarce had the cock cackled thrice when the lord was up.]\r\n[Sidenote F: With his hunters and horns they pursue the chase.]\r\n[Footnote 1: crowed (?).]\r\n\r\n      XII.\r\n\r\n     [A] Sone \u00feay calle of a quest in aker syde,\r\n         \u00dee hunt re-hayted \u00fee hounde3, \u00feat hit fyrst mynged,\r\n     [B] Wylde worde3 hym warp wyth a wrast noyce;\r\n1424     \u00dee hownde3 \u00feat hit herde, hastid \u00feider swy\u00fee,\r\n         & fellen as fast to \u00fee fuyt, fourty at ones;\r\n         \u00deenne such a glauerande glam of gedered rachche3\r\n         Ros, \u00feat \u00fee rochere3 rungen aboute;\r\n1428     Huntere3 hem hardened with horne & wyth muthe.\r\n     [C] \u00deen al in a sembl\u00e9 sweyed to-geder,\r\n         Bitwene a flosche in \u00feat fryth, & a foo cragge;\r\n         In a knot, bi a clyffe, at \u00fee kerre syde,\r\n1432     \u00deer as \u00fee rogh rocher vn-rydely wat3 fallen,\r\n         [\u00deay] ferden to \u00fee fyndyng, & freke3 hem after;\r\n     [D] \u00deay vmbe-kesten \u00fee knarre & \u00fee knot bo\u00fee.\r\n         Wy3e3, whyl \u00feay wysten wel wyt inne hem hit were,\r\n1436     \u00dee best \u00feat \u00feer breued wat3 wyth \u00fee blod hounde3.\r\n     [E] \u00deenne \u00feay beten on \u00fee buske3, & bede hym vp ryse,\r\n         & he vnsoundyly out so3t segge3 ouer-\u00fewert,\r\n     [F] On \u00fee sellokest swyn swenged out \u00feere,\r\n1440     Long sythen for[1] \u00fee sounder \u00feat wi3t for-olde,\r\n         For he wat3 b[este &] bor al\u00feer grattest,\r\n         [And eue]re quen he gronyed, \u00feenne greued mony,\r\n     [G] For [\u00fere a]t \u00fee fyrst \u00ferast he \u00fery3t to \u00fee er\u00fee,\r\n1444     & [sped hym] forth good sped, boute spyt more,\r\n         [Ande \u00feay] halowed hyghe ful hy3e & hay! hay! cryed\r\n         Haden horne3 to mou\u00fee heterly rechated;               [Fol. 110b.]\r\n     [H] Mony wat3 \u00fee myry mouthe of men & of hounde3,\r\n1448     \u00deat buskke3 after \u00feis bor, with bost & wyth noyse,\r\n                 To quelle;\r\n             Ful oft he byde3 \u00fee baye,\r\n             & mayme3 \u00fee mute Inn-melle,\r\n1452 [I]     He hurte3 of \u00fee hounde3, & \u00feay\r\n             Ful 3omerly 3aule & 3elle.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The hunters cheer on the hounds,]\r\n[Sidenote B: which fall to the scent forty at once.]\r\n[Sidenote C: All come together by the side of a cliff.]\r\n[Sidenote D: They look about on all sides,]\r\n[Sidenote E: and beat on the bushes.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Out there rushes a fierce wild boar,]\r\n[Sidenote G: At the first thrust he fells three to the ground.]\r\n[Sidenote H: Full quickly the hunters pursue him.]\r\n[Sidenote I: However, he attacks the hounds, causing them to yowl and\r\n  yell.]\r\n[Footnote 1: fro (?).]\r\n\r\n      XIII.\r\n\r\n     [A] Schalke3 to schote at hym schowen to \u00feenne,\r\n         Haled to hym of her arewe3, hitten hym oft;\r\n1456     Bot \u00fee poynte3 payred at \u00fee pyth \u00feat py3t in his schelde3,\r\n         & \u00fee barbe3 of his browe bite non wolde,\r\n     [B] \u00dea3 \u00fee schauen schaft schyndered in pece3,\r\n         \u00dee hede hypped a3ayn, were-so-euer hit hitte;\r\n1460 [C] Bot quon \u00fee dynte3 hym dered of her dry3e stroke3,\r\n         \u00deen, brayn-wod for bate, on burne3 he rase3,\r\n     [D] Hurte3 hem ful heterly \u00feer he forth hy3e3,\r\n         & mony ar3ed \u00feerat, & on-lyte dro3en.\r\n1464     Bot \u00fee lorde on a ly3t horce launces hym after,\r\n     [E] As burne bolde vpon bent his bugle he blowe3,\r\n         He rechated, & r[ode][1] \u00feur3 rone3 ful \u00feyk,\r\n         Suande \u00feis wy[ld]e swyn til \u00fee sunne schafted.\r\n1468 [F] \u00deis day wyth \u00feis ilk dede \u00feay dryuen on \u00feis wyse,\r\n         Whyle oure luflych lede lys in his bedde,\r\n     [G] Gawayn gray\u00feely at home, in gere3 ful ryche\r\n                 of hewe;\r\n1472         \u00dee lady no3t for3ate,\r\n             Com to hym to salue,\r\n             Ful erly ho wat3 hym ate,\r\n             His mode forto remwe.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The bowmen send their arrows after this wild swine,]\r\n[Sidenote B: but they glide off shivered in pieces.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Enraged with the blows,]\r\n[Sidenote D: he attacks the hunters.]\r\n[Sidenote E: The lord of the land blows his bugle,]\r\n[Sidenote F: and pursues the boar.]\r\n[Sidenote G: All this time Gawayne lies a-bed.]\r\n[Footnote 1: The MS. is here almost illegible.]\r\n\r\n      XIV.\r\n\r\n1476 [A] Ho commes to \u00fee cortyn, & at \u00fee kny3t totes,\r\n         Sir Wawen her welcumed wor\u00fey on fyrst,\r\n         & ho hym 3elde3 a3ayn, ful 3erne of hir worde3,\r\n     [B] Sette3 hir sof[t]ly by his syde, & swy\u00feely ho la3e3,\r\n1480     & wyth a luflych loke ho layde[1] hym \u00feyse worde3:\r\n         \"Sir, 3if 3e be Wawen, wonder me \u00feynkke3,\r\n         Wy3e \u00feat is so wel wrast alway to god,\r\n         & conne3 not of compaynye \u00fee coste3 vnder-take,\r\n1484     & if mon kennes yow hom to knowe, 3e kest hom of your mynde;[Fol.]\r\n     [C] \u00deou hat3 for-3eten 3ederly \u00feat 3isterday I ta3tte           [111]\r\n           alder-truest token of talk \u00feat I cow\u00fee.\"\r\n         \"What is \u00feat?\" quod \u00fee wyghe, \"I-wysse I wot neuer,\r\n1488     If hit be sothe \u00feat 3e breue, \u00fee blame is myn awen.\"\r\n     [D] \"3et I kende yow of kyssyng,\" quod \u00fee clere \u00feenne,\r\n         \"Quere-so countenaunce is cou\u00fee, quikly to clayme,\r\n         \u00deat bicumes vche a kny3t, \u00feat cortaysy vses.\"\r\n1492     \"Do way,\" quod \u00feat derf mon, \"my dere, \u00feat speche,\r\n     [E] For \u00feat durst I not do, lest I denayed were,\r\n         If I were werned, I were wrang I-wysse, 3if I profered.\"\r\n         \"Ma fay,\" quod \u00fee mere wyf, \"3e may not be werned,\r\n1496 [F] 3e ar stif in-noghe to constrayne wyth strenk\u00fee, 3if yow lyke3,\r\n         3if any were so vilanous \u00feat yow denaye[2] wolde.\"\r\n         \"3e, be God,\" quod Gawayn, \"good is your speche,\r\n         Bot \u00ferete is vn-\u00feryuande in \u00feede \u00feer I lende,\r\n1500 [G] & vche gift \u00feat is geuen not with goud wylle;\r\n         I am at your comaundement, to kysse quen yow lyke3,\r\n         3e may lach quen yow lyst, & leue quen yow \u00feynkke3,\r\n                 in space.\"\r\n1504 [H]     \u00dee lady loute3 a-doun,\r\n             & comlyly kysses his face,\r\n             Much speche \u00feay \u00feer expoun,\r\n             Of druryes greme & grace.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The lady of the castle again visits Sir Gawayne.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Softly she sits by his side,]\r\n[Sidenote C: and tells the knight that he has forgotten what she taught him\r\n  the day before.]\r\n[Sidenote D: \"I taught you of kissing,\" she says, \"that becomes every\r\n  knight.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: Gawayne says that he must not take that which is forbidden.]\r\n[Sidenote F: He is told that he is strong enough to enforce it.]\r\n[Sidenote G: The knight replies that every gift is worthless that is not\r\n  given willingly.]\r\n[Sidenote H: The lady stoops down and kisses him.]\r\n[Footnote 1: sayde (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: de vaye, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      XV.\r\n\r\n1508 [A] \"I woled[1] wyt at yow, wy3e,\" \u00feat wor\u00fey \u00feer sayde,\r\n         \"& yow wrathed not \u00feer-wyth, what were \u00fee skylle,\r\n         \u00deat so 3ong & so 3epe, as 3e [ar] at \u00feis tyme,\r\n         So cortayse, so kny3tyly, as 3e ar knowen oute,\r\n1512 [B] & of alle cheualry to chose, \u00fee chef \u00feyng a-losed,\r\n         Is[2] \u00fee lel layk of luf, \u00fee lettrure of armes;\r\n         F[or] to telle of \u00feis tenelyng of \u00feis trwe kny3te3,\r\n         Hit is \u00fee tytelet, token, & tyxt of her werkke3,\r\n1516     How le[des] for her lele luf hor lyue3 han auntered,\r\n         Endured for her drury dulful stounde3,\r\n         & after wenged with her walour & voyded her care,\r\n     [C] & bro3t blysse in-to boure, with bountees hor awen.\r\n1520     & 3e ar kny3t com-lokest kyd of your elde,\r\n         Your worde & your worchip walke3 ay quere,            [Fol. 111b.]\r\n         & I haf seten by your-self here sere twyes,\r\n     [D] 3et herde I neuer of your hed helde no worde3\r\n1524     \u00deat euer longed to luf, lasse ne more;\r\n     [E] & 3e, \u00feat ar so cortays & coynt of your hetes,\r\n         Oghe to a 3onke \u00feynk 3ern to schewe,\r\n         & teche sum tokene3 of trweluf craftes.\r\n1528     Why ar 3e lewed, \u00feat alle \u00fee los welde3,\r\n         O\u00feer elles 3e demen me to dille, your dalyaunce to herken?\r\n                 for schame!\r\n             I com hider sengel, & sitte,\r\n1532         To lerne at yow sum game,\r\n     [F]     Dos, teche3 me of your wytte,\r\n             Whil my lorde is fro hame.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"I would learn,\" she says, \"why you, who are so young and\r\n  active,]\r\n[Sidenote B: so skilled in the true sport of love,]\r\n[Sidenote C: and so renowned a knight,]\r\n[Sidenote D: have never talked to me of love.]\r\n[Sidenote E: You ought to show a young thing like me some token of\r\n  'true-love's crafts.']\r\n[Sidenote F: So teach me of your 'wit' while my lord is from home.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: wolde (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: In (?).]\r\n\r\n      XVI.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"In goud fay\u00fee,\" quod Gawayn, \"God yow for3elde,\r\n1536     Gret is \u00fee gode gle, & gomen to me huge,\r\n         \u00deat so wor\u00fey as 3e wolde wynne hidere,\r\n         & pyne yow with so pouer a mon, as play wyth your kny3t,\r\n         With any skynne3 countenaunce, hit keuere3 me ese;\r\n1540 [B] Bot to take \u00fee toruayle[1] to my-self, to trwluf expoun,\r\n         & towche \u00fee teme3 of tyxt, & tale3 of arme3,\r\n         To yow \u00feat, I wot wel, welde3 more sly3t\r\n         Of \u00feat art, bi \u00fee half, or a hundreth of seche\r\n1544     As I am, o\u00feer euer schal, in erde \u00feer I leue,\r\n         Hit were a fole fele-folde, my fre, by my traw\u00fee.\r\n     [C] I wolde yowre wylnyng worche at my my3t,\r\n         As I am hy3ly bihalden, & euer-more wylle\r\n1548 [D] Be seruaunt to your-seluen, so saue me dry3tyn!\"\r\n         \u00deus hym frayned \u00feat fre, & fondet hym ofte,\r\n         Forto haf wonnen hym to wo3e, what-so scho \u00feo3t elle3,\r\n     [E] Bot he de fended hym so fayr, \u00feat no faut semed,\r\n1552     Ne non euel on naw\u00feer halue, naw\u00feer \u00feay wysten,\r\n                 bot blysse;\r\n             \u00deay la3ed & layked longe,\r\n             At \u00fee last scho con hym kysse,\r\n1556 [F]     Hir leue fayre con scho fonge,\r\n             & went hir waye Iwysse.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"It is a great pleasure to me,\" says Sir Gawayne, \"to hear you\r\n  talk,]\r\n[Sidenote B: but I cannot undertake the task to expound true-love and tales\r\n  of arms.]\r\n[Sidenote C: I will, however, act according to your will,]\r\n[Sidenote D: and ever be your servant.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: Thus Gawayne defends himself.]\r\n[Sidenote F: The lady having kissed the knight, takes leave of him.]\r\n[Footnote 1: tornayle (?).]\r\n\r\n      XVII.\r\n\r\n     [A] Then ru\u00fees hym \u00fee renk, & ryses to \u00fee masse,\r\n         & si\u00feen hor diner wat3 dy3t & derely serued.           [Fol. 112.]\r\n1560 [B] \u00dee lede with \u00fee ladye3 layked alle day,\r\n         Bot \u00fee lorde ouer \u00fee londe3 launced ful ofte,\r\n         Swe3 his vncely swyn, \u00feat swynge3 bi \u00fee bonkke3,\r\n     [C] & bote \u00fee best of his brache3 \u00fee bakke3 in sunder;\r\n1564     \u00deer he bode in his bay, tel[1] bawe-men hit breken,\r\n         & made[2] hym, maw-gref his bed, forto mwe vtter;\r\n     [D] So felle flone3 per flete, when \u00fee folk gedered;\r\n         Bot 3et \u00fee styffest to start bi stounde3 he made,\r\n1568     Til at \u00fee last he wat3 so mat, he my3t no more renne,\r\n     [E] Bot in \u00fee hast \u00feat he my3t, he to a hole wynne3,\r\n         Of a rasse, bi a rokk, \u00feer renne3 \u00fee boerne,\r\n         He gete \u00fee bonk at his bak, bigyne3 to scrape,\r\n1572 [F] \u00dee fro\u00fee femed[3] at his mouth vnfayre bi \u00fee wyke3,\r\n         Whette3 his whyte tusche3; with hym \u00feen irked\r\n         Alle \u00fee burne3 so bolde, \u00feat hym by stoden,\r\n     [G] To nye hym on-ferum, bot ne3e hym non durst\r\n1576             for wo\u00fee;\r\n             He hade hurt so mony byforne,\r\n             \u00deat al \u00feu3t[4] \u00feenne ful lo\u00fee,\r\n     [H]     Be more wyth his tusche3 torne,\r\n1580         \u00deat breme wat3 [&] brayn-wod bothe.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Gawayne rises, hears mass, and then dines.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Meanwhile the lord pursues the wild boar,]\r\n[Sidenote C: that bit the backs of his hounds asunder,]\r\n[Sidenote D: and caused the stiffest of the hunters to start.]\r\n[Sidenote E: The boar runs into a hole in a rock by the side of a brook.]\r\n[Sidenote F: The froth foams at his mouth.]\r\n[Sidenote G: None durst approach him,]\r\n[Sidenote H: so many had he torn with his tusks.]\r\n[Footnote 1: til (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: madee, in MS.]\r\n[Footnote 3: fomed (?).]\r\n[Footnote 4: \u00feo3t (?).]\r\n\r\n      XVIII.\r\n\r\n     [A] Til \u00fee kny3t com hym-self, kachande his blonk,\r\n         Sy3 hym byde at \u00fee bay, his burne3 bysyde,\r\n     [B] He ly3tes luflych[1] adoun, leue3 his corsour,\r\n1584     Brayde3 out a bry3t bront, & bigly forth stryde3,\r\n         Founde3 fast \u00feur3 \u00fee forth, \u00feer \u00fee felle byde3,\r\n     [C] \u00dee wylde wat3 war of \u00fee wy3e with weppen in honde,\r\n         Hef hy3ly \u00fee here, so hetterly he fnast,\r\n1588     \u00deat fele ferde for \u00fee freke3,[2] lest felle hym \u00fee worre;\r\n     [D] \u00dee swyn sette3 hym out on \u00fee segge euen,\r\n         \u00deat \u00fee burne & \u00fee bor were bo\u00fee vpon hepe3,\r\n         In \u00fee wy3t-est of \u00fee water, \u00fee worre hade \u00feat o\u00feer;\r\n1592 [E] For \u00fee mon merkke3 hym wel, as \u00feay mette fyrst,\r\n         Set sadly \u00fee scharp in \u00fee slot euen,\r\n     [F] Hit hym vp to \u00fee hult, \u00feat \u00fee hert schyndered,\r\n         & he 3arrande hym 3elde, & 3edoun[3] \u00fee water,\r\n1596             ful tyt;\r\n             A hundreth hounde3 hym hent,                      [Fol. 112b.]\r\n     [G]     \u00deat bremely con hym bite,\r\n             Burne3 him bro3t to bent,\r\n1600         & dogge3 to dethe endite.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The knight, seeing the boar at bay,]\r\n[Sidenote B: alights from his horse,]\r\n[Sidenote C: and seeks to attack him with his sword.]\r\n[Sidenote D: The \"swine sets out\" upon the man,]\r\n[Sidenote E: who, aiming well,]\r\n[Sidenote F: wounds him in the pit of the stomach.]\r\n[Sidenote G: The boar is soon bitten to death by a hundred hounds.]\r\n[Footnote 1: MS. luslych.]\r\n[Footnote 2: freke (?).]\r\n[Footnote 3: 3ede doun (?).]\r\n\r\n      XIX.\r\n\r\n     [A] There wat3 blawyng of prys in mony breme home,\r\n         He3e halowing on hi3e, with ha\u00feele3 \u00feat my3t;\r\n     [B] Brachetes bayed \u00feat best, as bidden \u00fee maystere3,\r\n1604     Of \u00feat chargeaunt chace \u00feat were chef huntes.\r\n     [C] \u00deenne a wy3e \u00feat wat3 wys vpon wod crafte3,\r\n         To vnlace \u00feis bor lufly bigynne3;\r\n     [D] Fyrst he hewes of his hed, & on hi3e sette3,\r\n1608     & sy\u00feen rende3 him al roghe bi \u00fee rygge after,\r\n     [E] Brayde3 out \u00fee boweles, brenne3 hom on glede,\r\n         With bred blent \u00feer-with his braches rewarde3;\r\n         Sy\u00feen he britne3 out \u00fee brawen in bry3t brode [s]chelde3,\r\n1612 [F] & hat3 out \u00fee hastlette3, as hi3tly biseme3;\r\n     [G] & 3et hem halche3 al hole \u00fee halue3 to-geder,\r\n         & sy\u00feen on a stif stange stoutly hem henges.\r\n         Now with \u00feis ilk swyn \u00feay swengen to home;\r\n1616 [H] \u00dee bores hed wat3 borne bifore \u00fee burnes seluen,\r\n         \u00deat him for-ferde in \u00fee for\u00fee, \u00feur3 forse of his honde,\r\n                 so stronge;\r\n             Til he se3 sir Gawayne,\r\n1620         In halle hym \u00feo3t ful longe,\r\n     [I]     He calde, & he com gayn,\r\n             His fee3 \u00feer for to fonge.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Then was there blowing of horns]\r\n[Sidenote B: and baying of hounds.]\r\n[Sidenote C: One wise in woodcraft begins to unlace the boar.]\r\n[Sidenote D: First he hews off the head, then rends him by the back.]\r\n[Sidenote E: He next removes the bowels, broils them on the ashes, and\r\n  therewith rewards his hounds.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Then the hastlets are removed.]\r\n[Sidenote G: The two halves are next bound together and hung upon a pole.]\r\n[Sidenote H: The boar's head is borne before the knight, who hastens home.]\r\n[Sidenote I: Gawayne is called to receive the spoil.]\r\n\r\n      XX.\r\n\r\n     [A] \u00dee lorde ful lowde with lote, & la3ed myry,\r\n1624     When he se3e sir G: with solace he speke3;\r\n         \u00dee goude ladye3 were geten, & gedered \u00fee meyny,\r\n     [B] He schewe3 hem \u00fee schelde3, & schapes hem \u00fee tale,\r\n         Of \u00fee largesse, & \u00fee len\u00fee, \u00fee li\u00feerne3 alse,\r\n1628     Of \u00fee were of \u00fee wylde swyn, in wod \u00feer he fled.\r\n         \u00deat o\u00feer kny3t ful comly comended his dede3,\r\n         & praysed hit as gret prys, \u00feat he proued hade;\r\n     [C] For suche a brawne of a best, \u00fee bolde burne sayde,\r\n1632     Ne such sydes of a swyn, segh he neuer are.\r\n         \u00deenne hondeled \u00feay \u00fee hoge hed, \u00fee hende mon hit praysed,\r\n         & let lodly \u00feerat \u00fee lorde forte here:                 [Fol. 113.]\r\n     [D] \"Now Gawayn,\" quod \u00fee god mon, \"\u00feis gomen is your awen,\r\n1636     Bi fyn for-warde & faste, faythely 3e knowe.\"\r\n         \"Hit is sothe,\" quod \u00fee segge, \"& as siker trwe;\r\n         Alle my get I schal yow gif agayn, bi my traw\u00fee.\"\r\n     [E] He [hent] \u00fee ha\u00feel aboute \u00fee halse, & hendely hym kysses,\r\n1640     & efter-sones of \u00fee same he serued hym \u00feere.\r\n         \"Now ar we euen,\" quod \u00fee ha\u00feel, \"in \u00feis euen-tide,\r\n         Of alle \u00fee couenauntes \u00feat we knyt, sy\u00feen I com hider,\r\n                 bi lawe;\"\r\n1644 [F]     \u00dee lorde sayde, \"bi saynt Gile,\r\n             3e ar \u00fee best \u00feat I knowe,\r\n             3e ben ryche in a whyle,\r\n             Such chaffer & 3e drowe.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The lord of the land is well pleased when he sees Sir\r\n  Gawayne,]\r\n[Sidenote B: He shows him the shields of the wild boar, and tells him of\r\n  its length and breadth.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Such a \"brawn of a beast,\" Sir Gawayne says, he never has\r\n  seen.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Gawayne takes possession of it according to covenant,]\r\n[Sidenote E: and in return kisses his host,]\r\n[Sidenote F: who declares his guest to be the best he knows.]\r\n\r\n      XXI.\r\n\r\n1648 [A] \u00deenne \u00feay teldet table3 [on] trestes alofte,\r\n     [B] Kesten clo\u00fee3 vpon, clere ly3t \u00feenne\r\n     [C] Wakned bi wo3e3, waxen torches\r\n         Segge3 sette, & serued in sale al aboute;\r\n1652 [D] Much glam & gle glent vp \u00feer-inne,\r\n         Aboute \u00fee fyre vpon flet, & on fele wyse,\r\n     [E] At \u00fee soper & after, mony a\u00feel songe3,\r\n         As coundutes of kryst-masse, & carole3 newe,\r\n1656     With alle \u00fee manerly mer\u00fee \u00feat mon may of telle.\r\n     [F] & euer oure luflych kny3t \u00fee lady bi-syde;\r\n         Such semblaunt to \u00feat segge semly ho made,\r\n     [G] Wyth stille stollen countenaunce, \u00feat stalworth to plese,\r\n1660     \u00deat al for-wondered wat3 \u00fee wy3e, & wroth with hym-seluen,\r\n         Bot he nolde not for his nurture nurne hir a-3ayne3,\r\n         Bot dalt with hir al in daynte, how-se-euer \u00fee dede turned\r\n                 to wrast;\r\n1664 [H]     Quen \u00feay hade played in halle,\r\n             As longe as hor wylle hom last,\r\n     [I]     To chambre he[1] con hym calle,\r\n             & to \u00fee chem-ne \u00feay past.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Tables are raised aloft,]\r\n[Sidenote B: cloths cast upon them,]\r\n[Sidenote C: and torches are lighted.]\r\n[Sidenote D: With much mirth and glee,]\r\n[Sidenote E: supper is served in the hall,]\r\n[Sidenote F: and ever our lovely knight by the lady sits,]\r\n[Sidenote G: who does all she can to please her companion.]\r\n[Sidenote H: When they had long played in the hall,]\r\n[Sidenote I: they proceeded \"to chamber.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: ho (?).]\r\n\r\n      XXII.\r\n\r\n1668 [A] Ande \u00feer \u00feay dronken, & dalten, & demed eft nwe,\r\n         To norne on \u00fee same note, on nwe3ere3 euen;\r\n     [B] Bot \u00fee kny3t craued leue, to kayre on \u00fee morn,\r\n         For hit wat3 ne3 at \u00fee terme, \u00feat he to[1] schulde.\r\n1672     \u00dee lorde hym letted of \u00feat, to lenge hym resteyed,    [Fol. 113b.]\r\n     [C] & sayde, \"as I am trwe segge, I siker my traw\u00fee,\r\n     [D] \u00deou schal cheue to \u00fee grene chapel, \u00fey charres to make,\r\n         Leude, on nw3ere3 ly3t, longe bifore pryme:\r\n1676     For-\u00fey \u00feow lye in \u00fey loft, & lach \u00feyn ese,\r\n         & I schal hunt in \u00feis holt, & halde \u00fee towche3,\r\n         Chaunge wyth \u00fee cheuisaunce, bi \u00feat I charre hider;\r\n         For I haf fraysted \u00fee twys, & faythful I fynde \u00fee,\r\n1680     Now \u00ferid tyme \u00ferowe best \u00feenk on \u00fee morne,\r\n         Make we mery quyl we may, & mynne vpon Ioye,\r\n         For \u00fee lur may mon lach, when so mon lyke3.\"\r\n         \u00deis wat3 gray\u00feely graunted, & Gawayn is lenged,\r\n1684 [E] Bli\u00fee bro3t wat3 hym drynk, & \u00feay to bedde 3eden,\r\n                 with li3t;\r\n     [F]     Sir G: lis & slepes,\r\n             Ful stille & softe al ni3t;\r\n1688 [G]     \u00dee lorde \u00feat his crafte3 kepes,\r\n             Ful erly he wat3 di3t.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: There they drank and discoursed.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Gawayne begs leave to depart on the morrow.]\r\n[Sidenote C: His host swears to him,]\r\n[Sidenote D: that he shall come to the Green Chapel on New Year's morn long\r\n  before prime.]\r\n[Sidenote E: Our knight consents to remain for another night.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Full still and softly he sleeps all night.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Early in the morning the lord is up.]\r\n[Footnote 1: te (?).]\r\n\r\n      XXIII.\r\n\r\n     [A] After messe a morsel[1] he & his men token,\r\n         Miry wat3 \u00fee mornyng, his mounture he askes;\r\n1692 [B] Alle \u00fee ha\u00feeles \u00feat on horse schulde helden hym after,\r\n         Were boun busked on hor blonkke3, bi-fore[2] \u00fee halle 3ate3;\r\n     [C] Ferly fayre wat3 \u00fee folde, for \u00fee forst clenged,\r\n         In rede rudede vpon rak rises \u00fee sunne,\r\n1696 [D] & ful clere coste3[3] \u00fee clowdes of \u00fee welkyn.\r\n         Hunteres vnhardeled bi a holt syde,\r\n         Rocheres roungen bi rys, for rurde of her hornes;\r\n     [E] Summe fel in \u00fee fute, \u00feer \u00fee fox bade,\r\n1700     Trayle3 ofte a trayteres[4], bi traunt of her wyles;\r\n         A kenet kryes \u00feerof, \u00fee hunt on hym calles,\r\n         His fela3es fallen hym to, \u00feat fnasted ful \u00feike,\r\n     [F] Runnen forth in a rabel, in his ry3t fare;\r\n1704     & he fyske3 hem by-fore, \u00feay founden hym sone,\r\n     [G] & quen \u00feay seghe hym with sy3t, \u00feay sued hym fast,\r\n         Wre3ande h[ym] ful [w]eterly with a wroth noyse;\r\n     [H] & he trantes & tornayee3 \u00feur3 mony tene greue;\r\n1708     Hamloune3, & herkene3, bi hegge3 ful ofte;\r\n     [I] At \u00fee last bi a littel dich he lepe3 ouer a spenn\u00e9,    [Fol. 114.]\r\n         Stele3 out ful stilly bi a strothe rande,\r\n     [J] Went haf wylt of \u00fee wode, with wyle3 fro \u00fee houndes,\r\n1712     \u00deenne wat3 he went, er he wyst, to[5] a wale tryster,\r\n     [K] \u00deer \u00fere \u00fero at a \u00ferich \u00ferat hym at ones,\r\n                 al graye;\r\n     [L]     He blenched a3ayn bilyue,\r\n1716         & stifly start onstray,\r\n             With alle \u00fee wo on lyue,\r\n     [M]     To \u00fee wod he went away.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: After mass, a morsel he take with his men.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Then were all on their horses before the hall-gates.]\r\n[Sidenote C: It was a clear frosty morning.]\r\n[Sidenote D: The hunters, dispersed by a wood's side,]\r\n[Sidenote E: come upon the track of a fox,]\r\n[Sidenote F: which is followed up by the hounds.]\r\n[Sidenote G: They soon get sight of the game,]\r\n[Sidenote H: and pursue him through many a rough grove.]\r\n[Sidenote I: The fox at last leaps over a spinny,]\r\n[Sidenote J: and by a rugged path seeks to get clear from the hounds.]\r\n[Sidenote K: He comes upon one of the hunting stations, where he is\r\n  attacked by the dogs.]\r\n[Sidenote L: However, he slips them,]\r\n[Sidenote M: and makes again for the wood.]\r\n[Footnote 1: MS. nnorsel.]\r\n[Footnote 2: bi-forere, in MS.]\r\n[Footnote 3: caste3 (?).]\r\n[Footnote 4: trayveres (?).]\r\n[Footnote 5: to to, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      XXIV.\r\n\r\n     [A] Thenne wat3 hit lif vpon list to ly\u00feen \u00fee hounde3,\r\n1720     When alle \u00fee mute hade hym met, menged to-geder,\r\n         Suche a sor3e at \u00feat sy3t \u00feay sette on his hede,\r\n         As alle \u00fee clamberande clyffes hade clatered on hepes;\r\n     [B] Here he wat3 halawed, when ha\u00feele3 hym metten,\r\n1724     Loude he wat3 3ayned, with 3arande speche;\r\n     [C] \u00deer he wat3 \u00fereted, & ofte \u00feef called,\r\n         & ay \u00fee titleres at his tayl, \u00feat tary he ne my3t;\r\n         Ofte he wat3 runnen at, when he out rayked,\r\n1728 [D] & ofte reled in a3ayn, so reniarde wat3 wyl\u00e9.\r\n     [E] & 3e he lad hem bi lag, mon, \u00fee lorde & his meyny;\r\n         On \u00feis maner bi \u00fee mountes, quyle myd, ouer, vnder,\r\n     [F] Whyle \u00fee hende kny3t at home holsumly slepe3,\r\n1732     With-inne \u00fee comly cortynes, on \u00fee colde morne.\r\n         Bot \u00fee lady for luf let not to slepe,\r\n         Ne \u00fee purpose to payre, \u00feat py3t in hir hert,\r\n         Bot ros hir vp radly, rayked hir \u00feeder,\r\n1736 [G] In a mery mantyle, mete to \u00fee er\u00fee,\r\n         \u00deat wat3 furred ful fyne with felle3, wel pured,\r\n         No hwe3 goud on hir hede, bot \u00fee ha3er stones\r\n         Trased aboute hir tressour, be twenty in clusteres;\r\n1740 [H] Hir \u00feryuen face & hir \u00ferote \u00ferowen al naked,\r\n         Hir brest bare bifore, & bihinde eke.\r\n     [I] Ho come3 with-inne \u00fee chambre dore, & closes hit hir after,\r\n     [J] Wayne3[1] vp a wyndow, & on \u00fee wy3e calle3,\r\n1744     & radly \u00feus re-hayted hym, with hir riche worde3,\r\n                 with[2] chere;\r\n     [K]     \"A! mon, how may \u00feou slepe,\r\n     [L]     \u00deis morning is so clere?\"                         [Fol. 114b.]\r\n1748         He wat3 in drowping depe,\r\n             Bot \u00feenne he con hir here.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Then was it fine sport to listen to the hounds,]\r\n[Sidenote B: and the hallooing of the hunters.]\r\n[Sidenote C: There the fox was threatened and called a thief.]\r\n[Sidenote D: But Reynard was wily,]\r\n[Sidenote E: and led them astray over mounts.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Meanwhile the knight at home soundly sleeps within his comely\r\n  curtains.]\r\n[Sidenote G: The lady of the castle, clothed in a rich mantle,]\r\n[Sidenote H: her throat and bosom all bare,]\r\n[Sidenote I: comes to Gawayne's chamber,]\r\n[Sidenote J: opens a window, and says,]\r\n[Sidenote K: \"Ah! man, how canst thou sleep,]\r\n[Sidenote L: this morning is so clear?\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: wayue3(?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: bi, \u00e0 sec. manu.]\r\n\r\n      XXV.\r\n\r\n     [A] In dre3 droupyng of dreme draueled \u00feat noble,\r\n         As mon \u00feat wat3 in mornyng of mony \u00fero \u00feo3tes,\r\n1752     How \u00feat destin\u00e9 schulde \u00feat day [dy3t] his wyrde,\r\n         At \u00fee grene chapel, when he \u00fee gome metes,\r\n         & bi-houes his buffet abide, with-oute debate more;\r\n     [B] Bot quen \u00feat comly he keuered his wyttes,\r\n1756     Swenges out of \u00fee sweuenes, & sware3 with hast.\r\n         \u00dee lady luflych com la3ande swete,\r\n     [C] Felle ouer his fayre face, & fetly him kyssed;\r\n         He welcume3 hir wor\u00feily, with a wale chere;\r\n1760     He se3 hir so glorious, & gayly atyred,\r\n         So fautles of hir fetures, & of so fyne hewes,\r\n     [D] Wi3t wallande Ioye warmed his hert;\r\n         With smo\u00fee smylyng & smolt \u00feay smeten in-to mer\u00fee,\r\n1764     \u00deat al wat3 blis & bonchef, \u00feat breke hem bi-twene,\r\n                 & wynne,\r\n             \u00deay lanced wordes gode,\r\n             Much wele \u00feen wat3 \u00feer-inne,\r\n1768 [E]     Gret perile bi-twene hem stod,\r\n             Nif mare of hir kny3t mynne.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The knight was then dreaming of his forthcoming adventure at\r\n  the Green Chapel.]\r\n[Sidenote B: He awakes and speaks to his fair visitor,]\r\n[Sidenote C: who sweetly kisses him.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Great joy warms the heart of Sir Gawayne,]\r\n[Sidenote E: and \"great peril between them stood.\"]\r\n\r\n      XXVI.\r\n\r\n     [A] For \u00feat prynce of pris de-presed hym so \u00feikke.\r\n         Nurned hym so ne3e \u00fee \u00fered, \u00feat nede hym bi-houed,\r\n1772     O\u00feer lach \u00feer hir luf, o\u00feer lodly re-fuse;\r\n         He cared for his cortaysye, lest cra\u00feayn he were,\r\n     [B] & more for his meschef, 3if he schulde make synne,\r\n         & be traytor to \u00feat tolke, \u00feat \u00feat telde a3t.\r\n1776     \"God schylde,\" quod \u00fee schalk, \"\u00feat schal not be-falle!\"\r\n         With luf-la3yng a lyt, he layd hym by-syde\r\n         Alle \u00fee speche3 of specialt\u00e9 \u00feat sprange of her mouthe.\r\n         Quod \u00feat burde to \u00fee burne, \"blame 3e disserue,\r\n1780     3if 3e luf not \u00feat lyf \u00feat 3e lye nexte,\r\n         Bifore alle \u00fee wy3e3 in \u00fee worlde, wounded in hert,\r\n     [C] Bot if 3e haf a lemman, a leuer, \u00feat yow lyke3 better,\r\n         & folden fayth to \u00feat fre, festned so harde,\r\n1784     \u00deat yow lausen ne lyst, & \u00feat I leue nou\u00fee;            [Fol. 115.]\r\n         And \u00feat 3e telle me \u00feat, now trwly I pray yow,\r\n         For alle \u00fee lufe3 vpon lyue, layne not \u00fee so\u00fee,\r\n                 for gile.\"\r\n1788 [D]     \u00dee kny3t sayde, \"be sayn Ion,\"\r\n             & sme\u00feely con he smyle,\r\n             \"In fayth I welde ri3t non,\r\n             Ne non wil welde \u00fee quile.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The knight is sorely pressed.]\r\n[Sidenote B: He fears lest he should become a traitor to his host.]\r\n[Sidenote C: The lady inquire whether he has a mistress that he loves\r\n  better than her.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Sir Gawayne swears by St. John that he neither has nor desires\r\n  one.]\r\n\r\n      XXVII.\r\n\r\n1792     \"\u00deat is a worde,\" quod \u00feat wy3t, \"\u00feat worst is of alle,\r\n         Bot I am swared for so\u00fee, \u00feat sore me \u00feinkke3;\r\n     [A] Kysse me now coraly, & I schal cach he\u00feen,\r\n         I may bot mourne vpon molde, as may \u00feat much louyes.\"\r\n1796     Sykande ho swe3e doun, & semly hym kyssed,\r\n         & si\u00feen ho seueres hym fro, & says as ho stondes,\r\n         \"Now, dere, at \u00feis de-partyng, do me \u00feis ese,\r\n     [B] Gif me sumquat of \u00fey gifte, \u00fei gloue if[1] hit were,\r\n1800 [C] \u00deat I may mynne on \u00fee mon, my mournyng to lassen.\"\r\n         \"Now Iwysse,\" quod \u00feat wy3e, \"I wolde I hade here\r\n         \u00dee leuest \u00feing for \u00fey luf, \u00feat I in londe welde,\r\n     [D] For 3e haf deserued, forso\u00fee, sellyly ofte\r\n1804     More rewarde bi resoun, \u00feen I reche my3t,\r\n         Bot to dele yow for drurye, \u00feat dawed bot neked;\r\n         Hit is not your honour to haf at \u00feis tyme\r\n         A gloue for a garysoun, of Gawayne3 gifte3,\r\n1808     & I am here [on] an erande in erde3 vncou\u00fee,\r\n     [E] & haue no men wyth no male3, with menskful \u00feinge3;\r\n         \u00deat mislyke3 me, lad\u00e9, for luf at \u00feis tyme,[2]\r\n         Iche tolke mon do as he is tan, tas to non ille,\r\n1812             ne pine.\"\r\n     [F]     \"Nay, hende of hy3e honours,\"\r\n             Quod \u00feat lufsum vnder lyne,\r\n     [G]     \"\u00dea3 I hade o3t[3] of youre3,\r\n1816         3et schulde 3e haue of myne.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: She then kisses him, sighing for sorrow.]\r\n[Sidenote B: She desires some gift,]\r\n[Sidenote C: by which to remember him.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Gawayne tells her that she is worthy of a better gift than he\r\n  can bestow.]\r\n[Sidenote E: He has no men with mails containing precious things.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Then says that lovesome,]\r\n[Sidenote G: \"Though I had nought of yours, yet should ye have of mine.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: of, in MS.]\r\n[Footnote 2: tyne, in MS.]\r\n[Footnote 3: no3t (?).]\r\n\r\n      XXVIII.\r\n\r\n     [A] Ho ra3t hym a riche rynk[1] of red golde werke3,\r\n         Wyth a starande ston, stondande alofte,\r\n         \u00deat bere blusschande beme3 as \u00fee bry3t sunne;\r\n1820     Wyt 3e wel, hit wat3 worth wele ful hoge.\r\n     [B] Bot \u00fee renk hit renayed, & redyly he sayde,\r\n         \"I wil no gifte3 for gode, my gay, at \u00feis tyme;       [Fol. 115b.]\r\n     [C] I haf none yow to norne, ne no3t wyl I take.\"\r\n1824     Ho bede hit hym ful bysily, & he hir bode wernes,\r\n         & swere swyftel[y] his sothe, \u00feat he hit sese nolde;\r\n     [D] & ho sore \u00feat he forsoke, & sayde \u00feer-after,\r\n         \"If 3e renay my rynk, to ryche for hit seme3,\r\n1828     3e wolde not so hy3ly halden be to me,\r\n         I schal gif yow my girdel, \u00feat gaynes yow lasse.\"\r\n         Ho la3t a lace ly3tly, \u00feat[2] leke vmbe hir syde3,\r\n     [E] Knit vpon hir kyrtel, vnder \u00fee clere mantyle,\r\n1832     Gered hit wat3 with grene sylke, & with golde schaped,\r\n         No3t bot arounde brayden, beten with fyngre3;\r\n         & \u00feat ho bede to \u00fee burne, & bly\u00feely bi-so3t\r\n     [F] \u00dea3 hit vn-wor\u00fei were, \u00feat he hit take wolde.\r\n1836     & he nay \u00feat he nolde neghe in no wyse,\r\n     [G] Nau\u00feer golde ne garysoun, er God hym grace sende,\r\n         To acheue to \u00fee chaunce \u00feat he hade chosen \u00feere.\r\n         \"& \u00feerfore, I pray yow, displese yow no3t,\r\n1840     & lette3 be your bisinesse, for I bay\u00fee hit yow neuer\r\n                 to graunte;\r\n             I am derely to yow biholde,\r\n             Bi-cause of your sembelaunt,\r\n1844 [H]     & euer in hot & colde\r\n             To be your trwe seruaunt.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: She offers him a gold ring,]\r\n[Sidenote B: but he refuses to accept it,]\r\n[Sidenote C: as he has none to give in return.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Very sorrowful was that fair one on account of his refusal.]\r\n[Sidenote E: She takes off her \"girdle,\"]\r\n[Sidenote F: and beseeches him to take it.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Gawayne again refuses to accept anything,]\r\n[Sidenote H: but promises, \"ever in hot and in cold, to be her true\r\n  servant.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: ryng (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: \u00feat \u00feat, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      XXIX.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"Now forsake 3e \u00feis silke.\" sayde \u00fee burde \u00feenne,\r\n         \"For hit is symple in hit-self. & so hit wel seme3?\r\n1848     Lo! so hit is littel, & lasse hit is wor\u00fey;\r\n     [B] Bot who-so knew \u00fee costes \u00feat knit ar \u00feer-inne,\r\n         He wolde hit prayse at more prys, parauenture;\r\n     [C] For quat gome so is gorde with \u00feis grene lace,\r\n1852     While he hit hade hemely halched aboute,\r\n         \u00deer is no ha\u00feel vnder heuen to-hewe hym \u00feat my3t;\r\n     [D] For he my3t not he slayn, for sly3t vpon er\u00fee.\"\r\n         \u00deen kest \u00fee kny3t, & hit come to his hert,\r\n1856 [E] Hit were a Iuel for \u00fee Iopard\u00e9, \u00feat hym iugged were,\r\n         When he acheued to \u00fee chapel, his chek forto fech;\r\n     [F] My3[1] he haf slypped to \u00fee vn-slayn, \u00fee sle3t were noble.\r\n         \u00deenne ho \u00feulged with hir \u00ferepe, & \u00feoled hir to speke,  [Fol. 116.]\r\n1860     & ho bere on hym \u00fee belt, & bede hit hym swy\u00fee,\r\n     [G] & he granted, & [ho] hym gafe with a goud wylle,\r\n         & biso3t hym, for hir sake, disceuer hit neuer,\r\n         Bot to lelly layne for[2] hir lorde; \u00fee leude hym acorde3.\r\n1864     \u00deat neuer wy3e schulde hit wyt, Iwysse, bot \u00feay twayne,\r\n                 for no3te;\r\n             He \u00feonkked hir oft ful swy\u00fee,\r\n             Ful \u00fero with hert & \u00feo3t.\r\n1868 [H]     Bi \u00feat on \u00ferynne sy\u00fee,\r\n             He hat3 kyst \u00fee kny3t so to3t.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"Do you refuse it,\" says the lady, because it is simple?]\r\n[Sidenote B: Whoso knew the virtues that it possesses, would highly prize\r\n  it.]\r\n[Sidenote C: For he who is girded with this green lace,]\r\n[Sidenote D: cannot be wounded or slain.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: The knight thinks of his adventure at the Green Chapel.]\r\n[Sidenote F: The lady presses him to accept the lace.]\r\n[Sidenote G: He consents not only to take the girdle, but to keep the\r\n  possession of it a secret.]\r\n[Sidenote H: By that time the lady has kissed him thrice.]\r\n[Footnote 1: my3t (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: fro (?).]\r\n\r\n      XXX.\r\n\r\n     [A] Thenne lachche3 ho hir leue, & leue3 hym \u00feere,\r\n         For more myr\u00fee of \u00feat mon mo3t ho not gete;\r\n1872 [B] When ho[1] wat3 gon, sir G. gere3 hym sone,\r\n         Rises, & riches hym in araye noble,\r\n     [C] Lays vp \u00fee luf-lace, \u00fee lady hym ra3t,\r\n         Hid hit ful holdely, \u00feer he hit eft fonde;\r\n1876     Sy\u00feen cheuely to \u00fee chapel choses he \u00fee waye,\r\n     [D] Preuely aproched to a prest, & prayed hym \u00feere\r\n         \u00deat he wolde lyfte[2] his lyf, & lern hym better,\r\n         How his sawle schulde be saued, when he schuld seye he\u00feen.\r\n1880 [E] \u00deere he schrof hym schyrly, & schewed his mysdede3,\r\n         Of \u00fee more & \u00fee mynne, & merci beseche3,\r\n     [F] & of absolucioun he on \u00fee segge calles;\r\n         & he asoyled hym surely, & sette hym so clene,\r\n1884 [G] As dome3-day schulde haf ben di3t on \u00fee morn.\r\n         & sy\u00feen he mace hym as mery among \u00fee fre ladyes,\r\n     [H] With comlych caroles, & alle kynnes ioye,\r\n         As neuer he did bot \u00feat daye, to \u00fee derk ny3t,\r\n1888             with blys;\r\n             Vche mon hade daynte \u00feare,\r\n     [I]     Of hym, & sayde Iwysse,\r\n     [J]     \u00deus myry he wat3 neuer are,\r\n1892         Syn he com hider, er \u00feis.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Then she takes her leave.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Gawayne then dresses himself,]\r\n[Sidenote C: and conceals the love-lace about his person.]\r\n[Sidenote D: He then hies to mass,]\r\n[Sidenote E: and shrives him of his misdeeds.]\r\n[Sidenote F: and prays for absolution.]\r\n[Sidenote G: He returns to the hall, and makes himself so merry among the\r\n  ladies,]\r\n[Sidenote H: with comely carols,]\r\n[Sidenote I: that they said,]\r\n[Sidenote J: \"Thus merry was he never before since hither he came.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: he, in MS.]\r\n[Footnote 2: lyste (?).]\r\n\r\n      XXXI.\r\n\r\n     [A] Now hym lenge in \u00feat lee, \u00feer luf hym bi-tyde;\r\n         3et is \u00fee lorde on \u00fee launde, ledande his gomnes,\r\n     [B] He hat3 forfaren \u00feis fox, \u00feat he fol3ed longe;\r\n1896     As he sprent ouer a spenn\u00e9, to spye \u00fee schrewe,\r\n         \u00deer as he herd \u00fee howndes, \u00feat hasted hym swy\u00fee,      [Fol. 116b.]\r\n     [C] Renaud com richchande \u00feur3 a ro3e greue,\r\n         & alle \u00fee rabel in a res, ry3t at his hele3.\r\n1900 [D] \u00dee wy3e wat3 war of \u00fee wylde, & warly abides,\r\n         & brayde3 out \u00fee bry3t bronde, & at \u00fee best caste3;\r\n         & he schunt for \u00fee scharp, & schulde haf arered,\r\n     [E] A rach rapes hym to, ry3t er he my3t,\r\n1904     & ry3t bifore \u00fee hors fete \u00feay fel on hym alle,\r\n         & woried me \u00feis wyly wyth a wroth noyse.\r\n     [F] \u00dee lorde ly3te3 bilyue, & cache3 by[1] sone,\r\n         Rased hym ful radly out of \u00fee rach mou\u00fees,\r\n1908     Halde3 he3e ouer his hede, halowe3 faste,\r\n         & \u00feer bayen hym mony bray[2] hounde3;\r\n     [G] Huntes hy3ed hem \u00feeder, with horne3 ful mony,\r\n         Ay re-chatande ary3t til \u00feay \u00fee renk se3en;\r\n1912     Bi \u00feat wat3 comen his compeyny noble,\r\n         Alle \u00feat euer ber bugle blowed at ones,\r\n     [H] & alle \u00feise o\u00feer halowed, \u00feat hade no hornes,\r\n         Hit wat3 \u00fee myriest mute \u00feat euer men herde,\r\n1916     \u00dee rich rurd \u00feat \u00feer wat3 raysed for renaude saule,\r\n                 with lote;\r\n     [I]     Hor hounde3 \u00feay \u00feer rewarde,\r\n             Her[3] hede3 \u00feay fawne & frote,\r\n1920 [J]     & sy\u00feen \u00feay tan reynarde,\r\n             & tyrnen of his cote.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Gawayne's host is still in the field.]\r\n[Sidenote B: He has destroyed the fox.]\r\n[Sidenote C: He spied Reynard coming through a \"rough grove,\"]\r\n[Sidenote D: and tried to hit him with his sword.]\r\n[Sidenote E: The fox \"shunts,\" and is seized by one of the dogs.]\r\n[Sidenote F: The lord takes him out of the hound's mouth.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Hunters hasten thither with horns full many.]\r\n[Sidenote H: It was the merriest meet that ever was heard.]\r\n[Sidenote I: The hounds are rewarded,]\r\n[Sidenote J: and then they take Reynard and \"turn off his coat.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: hym (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: bra\u00fe (?).]\r\n[Footnote 3: Her her, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      XXXII.\r\n\r\n     [A] & \u00feenne \u00feay helden to home, for hit wat3 nie3 ny3t,\r\n         Strakande ful stoutly in hor store horne3;\r\n1924 [B] \u00dee lorde is ly3t at \u00fee laste at hys lef home,\r\n         Fynde3 fire vpon flet, \u00fee freke \u00feer by-side,\r\n         Sir Gawayn \u00fee gode, \u00feat glad wat3 with alle,\r\n     [C] Among \u00fee ladies for luf he ladde much ioye,\r\n1928     He were a bleaunt of blwe, \u00feat bradde to \u00fee er\u00fee,\r\n         His surkot semed hym wel, \u00feat softe wat3 forred,\r\n         & his hode of \u00feat ilke henged on his schulder,\r\n     [D] Blande al of blaunner were bo\u00fee al aboute.\r\n1932     He mete3 me \u00feis god mon in mydde3 \u00fee flore,\r\n         & al with gomen he hym gret, & goudly he sayde,\r\n         \"I schal fylle vpon fyrst oure forwarde3 nou\u00fee,\r\n         \u00deat we spedly han spoken, \u00feer spared wat3 no drynk;\"   [Fol. 117.]\r\n1936 [E] \u00deen acoles he [\u00fee] kny3t, & kysses hym \u00feryes,\r\n     [F] As sauerly & sadly as he hem sette cou\u00fee.\r\n     [G] \"Bi Kryst,\" quod \u00feat o\u00feer kny3t, \"3e cach much sele,\r\n         In cheuisaunce of \u00feis chaffer, 3if 3e hade goud chepe3.\"\r\n1940     \"3e of \u00fee chepe no charg,\" quod chefly \u00feat o\u00feer,\r\n         \"As is pertly payed \u00fee chepe3 \u00feat I a3te.\"\r\n         \"Mary,\" quod \u00feat o\u00feer mon, \"myn is bi-hynde,\r\n     [H] For I haf hunted al \u00feis day, & no3t haf I geten,\r\n1944 [I] Bot \u00feis foule fox felle, \u00fee fende haf \u00fee gode3,\r\n     [J] & \u00feat is ful pore, for to pay for suche prys \u00feinges,\r\n         As 3e haf \u00fery3t me here, \u00fero suche \u00fere cosses,\r\n                 so gode.\"\r\n1948         \"I-no3,\" quod sir Gawayn,\r\n             \"I \u00feonk yow, bi \u00fee rode;\"\r\n     [K]     & how \u00fee fox wat3 slayn,\r\n             He tolde hym, as \u00feay stode.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The hunters then hasten home.]\r\n[Sidenote B: The lord at last alights at his dear home,]\r\n[Sidenote C: where he finds Gawayne amusing the ladies.]\r\n[Sidenote D: The knight comes forward and welcomes his host,]\r\n[Sidenote E: and according to covenant kisses him thrice.]\r\n[Sidenote F: (See l. 1868.)]\r\n[Sidenote G: \"By Christ,\" says the other, \"ye have had much bliss!\"]\r\n[Sidenote H: I have hunted all day and have gotten nothing,]\r\n[Sidenote I: but the skin of this foul fox,]\r\n[Sidenote J: a poor reward for three such kisses.\"]\r\n[Sidenote K: He then tells him how the fox was slain.]\r\n\r\n      XXXIII.\r\n\r\n1952 [A] With mer\u00fee & mynstralsye, wyth mete3 at hor wylle,\r\n         \u00deay maden as mery as any men mo3ten,\r\n         With la3yng of ladies, with lote3 of bordes;\r\n         Gawayn & \u00fee gode mon so glad were \u00feay bo\u00fee,\r\n1956     Bot if \u00fee douthe had doted, o\u00feer dronken ben o\u00feer,\r\n         Bo\u00fee \u00fee mon & \u00fee meyny maden mony iape3,\r\n     [B] Til \u00fee sesoun wat3 se3en, \u00feat \u00feay seuer moste;\r\n         Burne3 to hor bedde be-houed at \u00fee laste.\r\n1960 [C] \u00deenne lo3ly his leue at \u00fee lorde fyrst\r\n         Fochche3 \u00feis fre mon, & fayre he hym \u00feonkke3;\r\n     [D] \"Of such a sellyly[1] soiorne, as I haf hade here,\r\n         Your honour, at \u00feis hy3e fest, \u00fee hy3e kyng yow 3elde!\r\n1964     I 3ef yow me for on of youre3, if yowre-self lyke3,\r\n         For I mot nedes, as 3e wot, meue to morne;\r\n     [E] & 3e me take sum tolke, to teche, as 3e hy3t,\r\n         \u00dee gate to \u00fee grene chapel, as god wyl me suffer\r\n1968     To dele, on nw3ere3 day, \u00fee dome of my wyrdes.\"\r\n         \"In god fay\u00fee,\" quod \u00fee god mon. \"wyth a goud wylle;\r\n         Al \u00feat euer I yow hy3t, halde schal I rede.\"\r\n     [F] \u00deer asyngnes he a seruaunt, to sett hym in \u00fee waye,\r\n1972     & coundue hym by \u00fee downe3, \u00feat he no drechch had,    [Fol. 117b.]\r\n         For to f[e]rk \u00feur3 \u00fee fryth, & fare at \u00fee gaynest,\r\n                 bi greue.\r\n             \u00dee lorde Gawayn con \u00feonk,\r\n1976         Such worchip he wolde hym weue;\r\n     [G]     \u00deen at \u00feo ladye3 wlonk.\r\n             \u00dee kny3t hat3 tan his leue.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: With much mirth and minstrelsy they made merry,]\r\n[Sidenote B: until the time came for them to part.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Gawayne takes leave of his host.]\r\n[Sidenote D: and thanks him for his happy \"sojourn.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: He asks for a man to teach him the way to the Green Chapel.]\r\n[Sidenote F: A servant is assigned to him,]\r\n[Sidenote G: and then he takes leave of the ladies,]\r\n[Footnote 1: selly (?).]\r\n\r\n      XXXIV.\r\n\r\n     [A] With care & wyth kyssyng he carppe3 hem tille,\r\n1980     & fele \u00feryuande \u00feonkke3 he \u00ferat hom to haue,\r\n         & \u00feay 3elden hym a3ay[n] 3eply \u00feat ilk;\r\n     [B] \u00deay bikende hym to Kryst, with ful colde sykynge3.\r\n     [C] Sy\u00feen fro \u00fee meyny he menskly de-partes;\r\n1984     Vche mon \u00feat he mette, he made hem a \u00feonke,\r\n         For his seruyse, & his solace, & his sere pyne,\r\n         \u00deat \u00feay wyth busynes had ben, aboute hym to serue;\r\n         & vche segge as sore, to seuer with hym \u00feere,\r\n1988     As \u00feay hade wonde wor\u00feyly with \u00feat wlonk euer.\r\n     [D] \u00deen with ledes & ly3t he wat3 ladde to his chambre,\r\n         & blybely bro3t to his bedde, to be at his rest;\r\n         3if he ne slepe soundyly, say ne dar I,\r\n1992 [E] For he hade muche on \u00fee morn to mynne, 3if he wolde,\r\n                 in \u00feo3t;\r\n     [F]     Let hym ly3e \u00feere stille,\r\n             He hat3[1] nere \u00feat he so3t,\r\n1996 [G]     & 3e wyl a whyle be stylle,\r\n             I schal telle yow how \u00feay wro3t.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: kissing them sorrowfully.]\r\n[Sidenote B: They commend him to Christ.]\r\n[Sidenote C: He then departs, thanking each one he meets \"for his service\r\n  and solace.\"]\r\n[Sidenote D: He retires to rest but sleeps but little,]\r\n[Sidenote E: for much has he to think of on the morrow.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Let him there lie still.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Be still awhile, and I shall tell how they wrought.]\r\n[Footnote 1: wat3 (?).]\r\n\r\n[FYTTE THE FOURTH.]\r\n\r\n      I.\r\n\r\n     [A] Now ne3e3 \u00fee nw3ere, & \u00fee ny3t passe3,\r\n         \u00dee day dryue3 to \u00fee derk, as dry3tyn bidde3;\r\n2000 [B] Bot wylde wedere3 of \u00fee worlde wakned \u00feeroute,\r\n         Clowdes kesten kenly \u00fee colde to \u00fee er\u00fee,\r\n         Wyth ny3e[1] in-noghe of \u00fee nor\u00fee, \u00fee naked to tene;\r\n     [C] \u00dee snawe snitered ful snart, \u00feat snayped \u00fee wylde;\r\n2004     \u00dee werbelande wynde wapped fro \u00fee hy3e,\r\n     [D] & drof vche dale ful of dryftes ful grete.\r\n         \u00dee leude lystened ful wel, \u00feat le3 in his bedde,\r\n     [E] \u00dea3 he lowke3 his lidde3, ful lyttel he slepes;\r\n2008     Bi vch kok \u00feat crue, he knwe wel \u00fee steuen.\r\n         De-liuerly he dressed vp, er \u00fee day sprenged,          [Fol. 118.]\r\n         For \u00feere wat3 ly3t of a lau[m]pe, \u00feat lemed in his chambre;\r\n     [F] He called to his chamberlayn, \u00feat cofly hym swared,\r\n2012     & bede hym bryng hym his bruny, & his blonk sadel;\r\n         \u00deat o\u00feer ferke3 hym vp, & feche3 hym his wede3,\r\n         & gray\u00fee3 me sir Gawayn vpon a grett wyse.\r\n         Fyrst he clad hym in his clo\u00fee3, \u00fee colde for to were;\r\n2016     & sy\u00feen his o\u00feer harnays, \u00feat holdely wat3 keped,\r\n         Bo\u00fee his paunce, & his plate3, piked ful clene,\r\n     [G] \u00dee rynge3[2] rokked of \u00fee roust, of his riche bruny;\r\n         & al wat3 fresch as vpon fyrst, & he wat3 fayn \u00feenne\r\n2020             to \u00feonk;\r\n             He hade vpon vche pece,\r\n             Wypped ful wel & wlonk;\r\n     [H]     \u00dee gayest in to Grece,\r\n2024         \u00dee burne bede bryng his blonk.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: New Year's Day approaches.]\r\n[Sidenote B: The weather is stormy.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Snow falls.]\r\n[Sidenote D: The dales are full of drift.]\r\n[Sidenote E: Gawayne in his bed hears each cock that crows.]\r\n[Sidenote F: He calls for his chamberlain, and bids him bring him his\r\n  armour.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Men knock off the rust from his rich habergeon.]\r\n[Sidenote H: The knight then calls for his steed.]\r\n[Footnote 1: nywe (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: rynke3 (?).]\r\n\r\n      II.\r\n\r\n     [A] Whyle \u00fee wlonkest wedes he warp on hym-seluen;\r\n         His cote, wyth be conysaunce of \u00fee clere werke3,\r\n         Ennurned vpon veluet vertuuus[1] stone3,\r\n2028     Aboute beten, & bounden, enbrauded seme3,\r\n         & fayre furred with-inne wyth fayre pelures.\r\n     [B] 3et laft he not \u00fee lace, \u00fee ladie3 gifte,\r\n         \u00deat for-gat not Gawayn, for gode of hym-seluen;\r\n2032     Bi he hade belted \u00fee bronde vpon his bal3e haunche3,\r\n     [C] \u00deenn dressed he his drurye double hym aboute;\r\n         Swy\u00fee swe\u00feled vmbe his swange swetely, \u00feat kny3t,\r\n         \u00dee gordel of \u00fee grene silke, \u00feat gay wel bisemed,\r\n2036     Vpon \u00feat ryol red clo\u00fee, \u00feat ryche wat3 to schewe.\r\n     [D] Bot wered not \u00feis ilk wy3e for wele \u00feis gordel,\r\n         For pryde of \u00fee pendaunte3, \u00fea3 polyst \u00feay were,\r\n         & \u00fea3 \u00fee glyterande golde glent vpon ende3,\r\n2040 [E] Bot forto sauen hym-self, when suffer hym by-houed,\r\n         To byde bale with-oute dabate, of bronde hym to were,\r\n                 o\u00feer knyffe;\r\n             Bi \u00feat \u00fee bolde mon boun,\r\n2044         Wynne3 \u00feeroute bilyue,\r\n     [F]     Alle \u00fee meyny of renoun,\r\n             He \u00feonkke3 ofte ful ryue.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: While he clothed himself in his rich weeds,]\r\n[Sidenote B: he forgot not the \"lace,\" the lady's gift,]\r\n[Sidenote C: but with it doubly girded his loins.]\r\n[Sidenote D: He wore it not for its rich ornaments,]\r\n[Sidenote E: \"but to save himself when it behoved him to suffer.\"]\r\n[Sidenote F: All the renowned assembly he thanks full oft.]\r\n[Footnote 1: vertuous (?).]\r\n\r\n      III.\r\n\r\n     [A] Thenne wat3 Gryngolet gray\u00fee, \u00feat gret wat3 & huge,   [Fol. 118b.]\r\n2048     & hade ben soiourned sauerly, & in a siker wyse,\r\n     [B] Hym lyst prik for poynt, \u00feat proude hors \u00feenne;\r\n         \u00dee wy3e wynne3 hym to, & wyte3 on his lyre,\r\n         & sayde soberly hym-self, & by his soth swere3,\r\n2052     \"Here is a meyny in \u00feis mote, \u00feat on menske \u00feenkke3,\r\n     [C] \u00dee mon hem maynteines, ioy mot \u00feay haue;\r\n         \u00dee leue lady, on lyue luf hir bityde;\r\n         3if \u00feay for charyt\u00e9 cherysen a gest,\r\n2056     & halden honour in her honde, \u00fee ha\u00feel hem 3elde,\r\n         \u00deat halde3 \u00fee heuen vpon hy3e, & also yow alle!\r\n         & 3if I my3t lyf vpon londe lede any quyle,\r\n         I schuld rech yow sum rewarde redyly, if I my3t.\"\r\n2060 [D] \u00deenn steppe3 he in-to stirop, & stryde3 alofte;\r\n         His schalk schewed hym his schelde, on schulder he hit la3t,\r\n         Gorde3 to Gryngolet, with his gilt hele3,\r\n     [E] & he starte3 on \u00fee ston, stod he no lenger,\r\n2064             to praunce;\r\n             His ha\u00feel on hors wat3 \u00feenne,\r\n             \u00deat bere his spere & launce.\r\n     [F]     \"\u00deis kastel to Kryst I kenne,\r\n2068         He gef hit ay god chaunce!\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Then was Gringolet arrayed,]\r\n[Sidenote B: full ready to prick on.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Gawayne returns thanks for the honour and kindness shown to\r\n  him by all.]\r\n[Sidenote D: He then steps into his saddle,]\r\n[Sidenote E: and \"starts on the stone\" without more delay.]\r\n[Sidenote F: \"This castle to Christ I commend; may he give it ever good\r\n  chance!\"]\r\n\r\n      IV.\r\n\r\n     [A] The brygge wat3 brayde doun, & \u00fee brode 3ate3\r\n         Vnbarred, & born open, vpon bo\u00fee halue;\r\n     [B] \u00dee burne blessed hym bilyue, & \u00fee brede3 passed;\r\n2072     Prayses \u00fee porter, bifore \u00fee prynce kneled,\r\n         Gef hym God & goud day, \u00feat Gawayn he saue;\r\n     [C] & went on his way, with his wy3e one,\r\n         \u00deat schulde teche hym to tourne to \u00feat tene place,\r\n2076     \u00deer \u00fee ruful race he schulde re-sayue.\r\n         \u00deay bo3en bi bonkke3, \u00feer bo3e3 ar bare,\r\n     [D] \u00deay clomben bi clyffe3, \u00feer clenge3 \u00fee colde;\r\n         \u00dee heuen wat3 vp halt, bot vgly \u00feer vnder,\r\n2080     Mist muged on \u00fee mor, malt on \u00fee mounte3,\r\n     [E] Vch hille hade a hatte, a myst-hakel huge;\r\n         Broke3 byled, & breke, bi bonkke3 aboute,\r\n         Schyre schaterande on schore3, \u00feer \u00feay doun schowued.\r\n2084     Welawylle wat3 \u00fee way, \u00feer \u00feay bi wod schulden,        [Fol. 119.]\r\n     [F] Til hit wat3 sone sesoun, \u00feat \u00fee sunne ryses,\r\n                 \u00feat tyde;\r\n     [G]     \u00deay were on a hille ful hy3e,\r\n2088         \u00dee quyte snaw lay bisyde;\r\n     [H]     \u00dee burne \u00feat rod hym by\r\n             Bede his mayster abide.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The gates are soon opened.]\r\n[Sidenote B: The knight passes thereout,]\r\n[Sidenote C: and goes on his way accompanied by his guide.]\r\n[Sidenote D: They climb by cliffs,]\r\n[Sidenote E: where each \"hill had a hat and a mist-cloak,\"]\r\n[Sidenote F: until daylight.]\r\n[Sidenote G: They were then on a \"hill full high.\"]\r\n[Sidenote H: The servant bade his master abide, saying,]\r\n\r\n      V.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"For I haf wonnen yow hider, wy3e, at \u00feis tyme,\r\n2092     & now nar 3e not fer fro \u00feat note place,\r\n     [B] \u00deat 3e han spied & spuryed so specially after;\r\n         Bot I schal say yow for so\u00fee, sy\u00feen I yow knowe,\r\n         & 3e ar a lede vpon lyue, \u00feat I wel louy,\r\n2096     Wolde 3e worch bi my wytte, 3e wor\u00feed \u00fee better.\r\n     [C] \u00dee place \u00feat 3e prece to, ful perelous is halden;\r\n     [D] \u00deer wone3 a wy3e in \u00feat waste, \u00fee worst vpon er\u00fee;\r\n         For he is stiffe, & sturne, & to strike louies,\r\n2100     & more he is \u00feen any mon vpon myddelerde,\r\n     [E] & his body bigger \u00feen \u00fee best fowre.\r\n         \u00deat ar in Ar\u00feure3 hous, Hestor[1] o\u00feer o\u00feer.\r\n         He cheue3 \u00feat chaunce at \u00fee chapel grene;\r\n2104 [F] \u00deer passes non bi \u00feat place, so proude in his armes,\r\n         \u00deat he ne dynne3 hym to de\u00fee, with dynt of his honde;\r\n         For he is a mon methles, & mercy non vses,\r\n     [G] For be hit chorle, o\u00feer chaplayn, \u00feat bi \u00fee chapel rydes,\r\n2108     Monk, o\u00feer masse-prest, o\u00feer any mon elles,\r\n         Hym \u00feynk as queme hym to quelle, as quyk go hym seluen.\r\n         For-\u00fey I say \u00fee as so\u00fee as 3e in sadel sitte,\r\n         Com 3e \u00feere, 3e be kylled, [I] may \u00fee kny3t rede,\r\n2112     Trawe 3e me \u00feat trwely, \u00fea3 3e had twenty lyues\r\n                 to spende;\r\n     [H]     He hat3 wonyd here ful 3ore,\r\n             On bent much baret bende,\r\n2116 [I]     A3ayn his dynte3 sore,\r\n             3e may not yow defende.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"I have brought you hither,]\r\n[Sidenote B: ye are not now far from the noted place.]\r\n[Sidenote C: Full perilous is it esteemed.]\r\n[Sidenote D: The lord of that 'waste' is stiff and stern.]\r\n[Sidenote E: His body is bigger 'than the best four in Arthur's house.']\r\n[Sidenote F: None passes by the Green Chapel, 'that he does not ding to\r\n  death with dint of his hand.']\r\n[Sidenote G: For be it churl or chaplain, monk, mass-priest, 'or any man\r\n  else,' he kills them all.]\r\n[Sidenote H: He has lived there full long.]\r\n[Sidenote I: Against his dints sore ye may not defend you.]\r\n[Footnote 1: Hector (?).]\r\n\r\n      VI.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"For-\u00fey, goude sir Gawayn, let \u00fee gome one,\r\n         & got3 a-way sum o\u00feer gate; vpon Godde3 halue;\r\n2120 [B] Cayre3 bi sum o\u00feer kyth, \u00feer Kryst mot yow spede;\r\n         & I schal hy3 me hom a3ayn, & hete yow fyrre,\r\n     [C] \u00deat I schal swere bi God, & alle his gode hal3e3,     [Fol. 119b.]\r\n         As help me God & \u00fee halydam, & o\u00fee3 in-noghe,\r\n2124     \u00deat I schal lelly yow layne, & lance neuer tale,\r\n         \u00deat euer 3e fondet to fle, for freke \u00feat I wyst.\"\r\n         \"Grant merci;\" quod Gawayn, & gruchyng he sayde,\r\n         \"Wel worth \u00fee wy3e, \u00feat wolde3 my gode,\r\n2128     & \u00feat lelly me layne, I leue wel \u00feou wolde3!\r\n     [D] Bot helde \u00feou hit neuer so holde, & I here passed,\r\n         Founded for ferde for to fle, in fourme \u00feat \u00feou telle3,\r\n         I were a kny3t kowarde, I my3t not[1] be excused.\r\n2132 [E] Bot I wy1 to \u00fee chape1, for chaunce \u00feat may falle,\r\n         & talk wyth \u00feat ilk tulk \u00fee tale \u00feat me lyste,\r\n         Wor\u00fee hit wele, o\u00feer wo, as \u00fee wyrde lyke3\r\n                 hit hafe;\r\n2136 [F]     \u00dea3e he be a sturn knape,\r\n             To sti3tel, &[2] stad with staue,\r\n     [G]     Ful wel con dry3tyn schape,\r\n             His seruaunte3 forto saue.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Wherefore, good Sir Gawayne, let this man alone.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Go by some other region,]\r\n[Sidenote C: I swear by God and all His saints, that I will never say that\r\n  ever ye attempted to flee from any man.\"]\r\n[Sidenote D: Gawayne replies that to shun this danger would mark him as a\r\n  \"coward knight.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: To the Chapel, therefore, he will go,]\r\n[Sidenote F: though the owner thereof were a stern knave.]\r\n[Sidenote G: \"Full well can God devise his servants for to save.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: mot, in MS.]\r\n[Footnote 2: & &, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      VII.\r\n\r\n2140 [A] \"Mary!\" quod \u00feat o\u00feer mon, \"now \u00feou so much spelle3,\r\n         \u00deat \u00feou wylt \u00feyn awen nye nyme to \u00fey-seluen,\r\n         & \u00fee lyst lese \u00fey lyf, \u00fee lette I ne kepe;\r\n     [B] Haf here \u00fei helme on \u00fey hede, \u00fei spere in \u00fei honde,\r\n2144     & ryde me doun \u00feis ilk rake, bi 3on rokke syde,\r\n     [C] Til \u00feou be bro3t to \u00fee bo\u00feem of \u00fee brem valay;\r\n     [D] \u00deenne loke a littel on \u00fee launde, on \u00fei lyfte honde,\r\n     [E] & \u00feou schal se in \u00feat slade \u00fee self chapel,\r\n2148     & \u00fee borelych burne on bent, \u00feat hit kepe3.\r\n         Now fare3 wel on Gode3 half, Gawayn \u00fee noble,\r\n         For alle \u00fee golde vpon grounde I nolde go with \u00fee,\r\n         Ne bere \u00fee fela3schip \u00feur3 \u00feis fryth on fote fyrre.\"\r\n2152 [F] Bi \u00feat \u00fee wy3e in \u00fee wod wende3 his brydel,\r\n         Hit \u00fee hors with \u00fee hele3, as harde as he my3t,\r\n         Lepe3 hym ouer \u00fee launde, & leue3 \u00fee kny3t \u00feere,\r\n                 al one.\r\n2156 [G]     \"Bi Godde3 self,\" quod Gawayn,\r\n             \"I wyl nau\u00feer grete ne grone,\r\n     [H]     To Godde3 wylle I am ful bayn,\r\n             & to hym I haf me tone.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"Mary!\" quoth the other, \"since it pleases thee to lose thy\r\n  life,]\r\n[Sidenote B: take thy helmet on thy head, and thy spear in thy hand, and\r\n  ride down this path by yon rock-side,]\r\n[Sidenote C: till thou come to the bottom of the valley;]\r\n[Sidenote D: look a little to the left,]\r\n[Sidenote E: and thou shalt see the Chapel itself and the man that guards\r\n  it.\"]\r\n[Sidenote F: Having thus spoken the guide takes leave of the knight.]\r\n[Sidenote G: \"By God's self,\" says Sir Gawayne, \"I will neither weep nor\r\n  groan.]\r\n[Sidenote H: To God's will I am full ready.\"]\r\n\r\n      VIII.\r\n\r\n2160 [A] Thenne gyrde3 he to Gryngolet, & gedere3 \u00fee rake,      [Fol. 120.]\r\n         Schowue3 in bi a schore, at a scha3e syde,\r\n     [B] Ride3 \u00feur3 \u00fee ro3e bonk, ry3t to \u00fee dale;\r\n         & \u00feenne he wayted hym aboute, & wylde hit hym \u00feo3t,\r\n2164 [C] & se3e no syngne of resette, bisyde3 nowhere,\r\n         Bot hy3e bonkke3 & brent, vpon bo\u00fee halue,\r\n         & ru3e knokled knarre3, with knorned stone3;\r\n         \u00dee skwe3 of \u00fee scowtes skayued[1] hym \u00feo3t.\r\n2168     \u00deenne he houed, & wyth-hylde his hors at \u00feat tyde,\r\n         & ofte chaunged his cher, \u00fee chapel to seche;\r\n     [D] He se3 non suche in no syde, & selly hym \u00feo3t,\r\n         Sone a lyttel on a launde, a lawe as hit we[re];\r\n2172 [E] A bal3 ber3, bi a bonke, \u00fee brymme by-syde,\r\n         Bi a for3 of a flode, \u00feat ferked \u00feare;\r\n         \u00dee borne blubred \u00feer-inne, as hit boyled hade.\r\n     [F] \u00dee kny3t kache3 his caple, & com to \u00fee lawe,\r\n2176 [G] Li3te3 doun luflyly, & at a lynde tache3\r\n         \u00dee rayne, & his riche, with a ro3e braunche;\r\n     [H] \u00deen[n]e he bo3e3 to \u00fee ber3e, aboute hit he walke,\r\n         D[e]batande with hym-self, quat hit be my3t.\r\n2180     Hit hade a hole on \u00fee ende, & on ay\u00feer syde,\r\n         & ouer-growen with gresse in glodes ay where,\r\n         & al wat3 hol3 in-with, nobot an olde caue,\r\n     [I] Or a creuisse of an olde cragge, he cou\u00fee hit no3t deme\r\n2184             with spelle,\r\n             \"We,[2] lorde,\" quod \u00fee gentyle kny3t,\r\n             \"Whe\u00feer \u00feis be \u00fee grene chapelle;\r\n     [J]     He my3t aboute myd-ny3t,\r\n2188         [\u00de]e dele his matynnes telle!\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Then he pursues his journey,]\r\n[Sidenote B: rides through the dale, and looks about.]\r\n[Sidenote C: He sees no sign of a resting-place, but only high and steep\r\n  banks.]\r\n[Sidenote D: No chapel could he discern.]\r\n[Sidenote E: At last he sees a hill by the side of a stream;]\r\n[Sidenote F: thither he goes,]\r\n[Sidenote G: alights and fastens his horse to a branch of a tree.]\r\n[Sidenote H: He walks around the hill, debating with himself what it might\r\n  be,]\r\n[Sidenote I: and at last finds an old cave in the crag.]\r\n[Sidenote J: He prays that about midnight he may tell his matins.]\r\n[Footnote 1: skayned (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: wel (?).]\r\n\r\n      IX.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"Now i-wysse,\" quod Wowayn, \"wysty is here;\r\n         \u00deis oritore is vgly, with erbe3 ouer-growen;\r\n     [B] Wel biseme3 \u00fee wy3e wruxled in grene\r\n2192     Dele here his deuocioun, on \u00fee deuele3 wyse;\r\n         Now I fele hit is \u00fee fende, in my fyue wytte3,\r\n         \u00deat hat3 stoken me \u00feis steuen, to strye me here;\r\n     [C] \u00deis is a chapel of meschaunce, \u00feat chekke hit by-tyde,\r\n2196     Hit is \u00fee corsedest kyrk, \u00feat euer i com inne!\"\r\n         With he3e helme on his hede, his launce in his honde, [Fol. 120b.]\r\n     [D] He rome3 vp to \u00fee rokke of \u00feo ro3 wone3;\r\n         \u00deene herde he of \u00feat hy3e hil, in a harde roche,\r\n2200 [E] Bi3onde \u00fee broke, in a bonk, a wonder breme noyse,\r\n     [F] Quat! hit clatered in \u00fee clyff, as hit cleue schulde,\r\n         As one vpon a gryndelston hade grounden a sy\u00fee;\r\n     [G] What! hit wharred, & whette, as water at a mulne,\r\n2204     What! hit rusched, & ronge, raw\u00fee to here.\r\n         \u00deenne \"bi Godde,\" quod Gawayn, \"\u00feat gere as[1] I trowe,\r\n         Is ryched at \u00fee reuerence, me renk to mete,\r\n                 bi rote;\r\n2208         Let God worche we loo,\r\n     [H]     Hit helppe3 me not a mote,\r\n             My lif \u00fea3 I for-goo,\r\n             Drede dot3 me no lote.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"Truly,\" says Sir Gawayne, \"a desert is here,]\r\n[Sidenote B: a fitting place for the man in green to 'deal here his\r\n  devotions in devil fashion.']\r\n[Sidenote C: It is most cursed kirk that ever I entered.\"]\r\n[Sidenote D: Roaming about he hears a loud noise,]\r\n[Sidenote E: from beyond the brook.]\r\n[Sidenote F: It clattered like the grinding of a scythe on a grindstone.]\r\n[Sidenote G: It whirred like a mill-stream.]\r\n[Sidenote H: \"Though my life I forgo,\" says the knight, \"no noise shall\r\n  terrify me.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: at, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      X.\r\n\r\n2212 [A] Thenne \u00fee kny3t con calle ful hy3e,\r\n     [B] \"Who sti3tle3 in \u00feis sted, me steuen to holde?\r\n     [C] For now is gode Gawayn goande ry3t here,\r\n         If any wy3e o3t wyl wynne hider fast,\r\n2216     O\u00feer now, o\u00feer neuer, his nede3 to spede.\"\r\n     [D] \"Abyde,\" quod on on \u00fee bonke, abouen ouer his hede,\r\n         \"& \u00feou schal haf al in hast, \u00feat I \u00fee hy3t ones.\"\r\n         3et he rusched on \u00feat rurde, rapely a \u00ferowe,\r\n2220     & wyth quettyng a-wharf, er he wolde ly3t;\r\n     [E] & sy\u00feen he keuere3 bi a cragge, & come3 of a hole,\r\n         Whyrlande out of a wro, wyth a felle weppen,\r\n     [F] A dene3 ax nwe dy3t, \u00fee dynt with [t]o 3elde\r\n2224     With a borelych bytte, bende by \u00fee halme,\r\n         Fyled in a fylor, fowre fote large,\r\n         Hit wat3 no lasse, bi \u00feat lace \u00feat lemed ful bry3t.\r\n     [G] & \u00fee gome in \u00fee erene gered as fyrst,\r\n2228     Bo\u00fee \u00fee lyre & \u00fee legge3, lokke3, & berde,\r\n         Saue \u00feat fayre on his fote he founde3 on \u00fee er\u00fee,\r\n         Sette \u00fee stele to \u00fee stone, & stalked bysyde.\r\n     [H] When he wan to \u00fee watter, \u00feer he wade nolde,\r\n2232     He hypped ouer on hys ax, & orpedly stryde3,\r\n         Bremly bro\u00fee on a bent, \u00feat brode wat3 a-boute,\r\n                 on snawe.\r\n     [I]     Sir Gawayn \u00fee kny3t con mete.                      [Fol. 121.]\r\n2236         He ne lutte hym no \u00feyng lowe,\r\n     [J]     \u00deat o\u00feer sayde, \"now, sir swete,\r\n             Of steuen mon may \u00fee trowe.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Then cried he aloud,]\r\n[Sidenote B: \"Who dwells here discourse with me to hold?\"]\r\n[Sidenote C: Now is the good Gawayne going aright]\r\n[Sidenote D: He hears a voice commanding him to abide where he is.]\r\n[Sidenote E: Soon there comes out of a hole, with a fell weapon,]\r\n[Sidenote F: a Danish axe, quite new,]\r\n[Sidenote G: the \"knight in green,\" clothed as before.]\r\n[Sidenote H: When he reaches the stream, he hops over and strides about.]\r\n[Sidenote I: He meets Sir Gawayne without obeisance.]\r\n[Sidenote J: The other tells him that he is now ready for conversation]\r\n\r\n      XI.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"Gawayn,\" quod \u00feat grene gome, \"God \u00fee mot loke!\r\n2240     I-wysse \u00feou art welcom,[1] wy3e, to my place,\r\n     [B] & \u00feou hat3 tymed \u00fei trauayl as true[2] mon schulde;\r\n     [C] & \u00feou knowe3 \u00fee couenaunte3 kest vus by-twene,\r\n         At \u00feis tyme twelmonyth \u00feou toke \u00feat \u00fee falled,\r\n2244 [D] & I schulde at \u00feis nwe 3ere 3eply \u00fee quyte.\r\n     [E] & we ar in \u00feis valay, verayly oure one,\r\n         Here ar no renkes vs to rydde, rele as vus like3;\r\n     [F] Haf \u00fey[3] helme of \u00fey hede, & haf here \u00fey pay;\r\n2248     Busk no more debate \u00feen I \u00fee bede \u00feenne,\r\n         \"When \u00feou wypped of my hede at a wap one.\"\r\n     [G] \"Nay, bi God,\" quod Gawayn, \"\u00feat me gost lante,\r\n         I schal gruch \u00fee no grwe, for grem \u00feat falle3;\r\n2252     Botsty3tel \u00fee vpon on strok, & I schal stonde stylle,\r\n         & warp \u00fee no wernyng, to worch as \u00fee lyke3,\r\n                 no whare.\"\r\n     [H]     He lened with \u00fee nek, & lutte,\r\n2256         & schewed \u00feat schyre al bare,\r\n             & lette as he no3t dutte,\r\n     [I]     For drede he wolde not dare.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"God preserve thee!\" says the Green Knight,]\r\n[Sidenote B: \"as a true knight 'thou hast timed thy travel']\r\n[Sidenote C: Thou knowest the covenant between us,]\r\n[Sidenote D: that on New Year's day I should return thy blow]\r\n[Sidenote E: Here we are alone,]\r\n[Sidenote F: Have off thy helmet and take thy pay at once.\"]\r\n[Sidenote G: \"By God,\" quoth Sir Gawayne, \"I shall not begrudge thee thy\r\n  will.\"]\r\n[Sidenote H: Then he shows his bare neck,]\r\n[Sidenote I: and appears undaunted.]\r\n[Footnote 1: welcon, in MS.]\r\n[Footnote 2: truee in MS.]\r\n[Footnote 3: MS. \u00fey \u00fey.]\r\n\r\n      XII.\r\n\r\n     [A] Then \u00fee gome in \u00fee grene gray\u00feed hym swy\u00fee,\r\n2260     Gedere3 yp hys grymme tole, Gawayn to smyte;\r\n     [B] With alle \u00fee bur in his body he ber hit on lofte,\r\n         Munt as ma3tyly, as marre hym he wolde;\r\n         Hade hit dryuen adoun, as dre3 as he atled,\r\n2264     \u00deer hade ben ded of his dynt, \u00feat do3ty wat3 euer.\r\n         Bot Gawayn on \u00feat giserne glyfte hym bysyde,\r\n     [C] As hit com glydande adoun, on glode hym to schende,\r\n     [D] & schranke a lytel with \u00fee schulderes, for \u00fee scharp yrne.\r\n2268     \u00deat o\u00feer schalk wyth a schunt \u00fee schene wythhalde3,\r\n     [E] & \u00feenne repreued he \u00fee prynce with mony prowde worde3:\r\n     [F] \"\u00deou art not Gawayn,\" quod \u00fee gome, \"\u00feat is so goud halden,\r\n         \u00deat neuer ar3ed for no here, by hylle ne be vale,\r\n2272 [G] & now \u00feou fles for ferde, er \u00feou fele harme3;         [Fol. 121b.]\r\n         Such cowardise of \u00feat kny3t cow\u00fee I neuer here.\r\n     [H] Naw\u00feer fyked I, ne fla3e, freke, quen \u00feou myntest,\r\n         Ne kest no kauelacion, in kynge3 hous Arthor,\r\n2276 [I] My hede fla3 to my fote, & 3et fla3 I neuer;\r\n         & \u00feou, er any harme hent, ar3e3 in hert,\r\n     [J] Wherfore \u00fee better burne me burde be called\r\n                 \u00feer-fore.\"\r\n2280 [K]     Quod G:, \"I schunt one3,\r\n             & so wyl I no more,\r\n             Bot pa3 my hede falle on \u00fee stone3,\r\n             I con not hit restore.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Then the man in green seizes his grim tool.]\r\n[Sidenote B: With all his force he raises it aloft.]\r\n[Sidenote C: As it came gliding down,]\r\n[Sidenote D: Sir Gawayne shrank a little with his shoulders.]\r\n[Sidenote E: The other reproved him, saying,]\r\n[Sidenote F: \"Thou art not Gawayne that is so good esteemed,]\r\n[Sidenote G: for thou fleest for fear before thou feelest harm.]\r\n[Sidenote H: I never flinched when thou struckest.]\r\n[Sidenote I: My head flew to my foot, yet I never fled,]\r\n[Sidenote J: wherefore I ought to be called the better man.\"]\r\n[Sidenote K: \"I shunted once,\" says Gawayne, \"but will no more.]\r\n\r\n      XIII.\r\n\r\n2284 [A] Bot busk, burne, bi \u00fei fayth, & bryng me to \u00fee poynt,\r\n         Dele to me my destin\u00e9, & do hit out of honde,\r\n         For I schal stonde \u00fee a strok, & start no more,\r\n         Til \u00feyn ax haue me hitte, haf here my traw\u00fee.\"\r\n2288 [B] \"Haf at \u00fee \u00feenne,\" quod \u00feat o\u00feer, & heue3 hit alofte,\r\n         & wayte3 as wro\u00feely, as he wode were;\r\n     [C] He mynte3 at hym ma3tyly, bot not \u00fee mon ryue3,[1]\r\n         With-helde heterly h[i]s honde, er hit hurt my3t.\r\n2292 [D] Gawayn gray\u00feely hit byde3, & glent with no membre,\r\n         Bot stode stylle as \u00fee ston, o\u00feer a stubbe au\u00feer,\r\n         \u00deat ra\u00feeled is in roche grounde, with rote3 a hundreth.\r\n         \u00deen muryly efte con he mele, \u00fee mon in \u00fee grene,\r\n2296 [E] \"So now \u00feou hat3 \u00fei hert holle, hitte me bihou[e]s;\r\n         Halde \u00fee now \u00fee hy3e hode, \u00feat Ar\u00feur \u00fee ra3t,\r\n         & kepe \u00fey kanel at \u00feis kest, 3if hit keuer may.\"\r\n         G: ful gryndelly with greme \u00feenne sayde,\r\n2300 [F] \"Wy \u00feresch on, \u00feou \u00fero mon, \u00feou \u00ferete3 to longe,\r\n         I hope \u00feat \u00fei hert ar3e wyth \u00feyn awen seluen.\"\r\n         \"For so\u00fee,\" quod \u00feat o\u00feer freke, \"so felly \u00feou speke3,\r\n         I wyl no lenger on lyte lette \u00fein ernde,\r\n2304             ri3t nowe.\"\r\n     [G]     \u00deenne tas he[2] hym stry\u00fee to stryke,\r\n             & frounses bo\u00fee lyppe & browe,\r\n             No meruayle \u00fea3 hym myslyke,\r\n2308         \u00deat hoped of no rescowe.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Bring me to the point; deal me my destiny at once.\"]\r\n[Sidenote B: \"Have at thee, then,\" says the other.]\r\n[Sidenote C: With that he aims at him a blow.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Gawayne never flinches, but stands as still as a stone.]\r\n[Sidenote E: \"Now,\" says the Green Knight, \"I must hit thee, since thy\r\n  heart is whole.\"]\r\n[Sidenote F: \"Thrash on,\" says the other.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Then the Green Knight makes ready to strike.]\r\n[Footnote 1: ? ryne3 = touches.]\r\n[Footnote 2: he he, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      XIV.\r\n\r\n     [A] He lyftes ly3tly his lome, & let hit doun fayre,\r\n     [B] With \u00fee barbe of \u00fee bitte bi \u00fee bare nek               [Fol. 122.]\r\n         \u00dea3 he homered heterly, hurt hym no more,\r\n2312     Bot snyrt hym on \u00feat on syde, \u00feat seuered \u00fee hyde;\r\n     [C] \u00dee scharp schrank to \u00fee flesche \u00feur3 \u00fee schyre grece,\r\n         \u00deat \u00fee schene blod over his schulderes schot to \u00fee er\u00fee.\r\n     [D] & quen \u00fee burne se3 \u00fee blode blenk on \u00fee snawe,\r\n2316     He sprit forth spenne fote more \u00feen a spere len\u00fee,\r\n         Hent heterly his helme, & on his hed cast,\r\n         Schot with his schuldere3 his fayre schelde vnder,\r\n     [E] Brayde3 out a bry3t sworde, & bremely he speke3;\r\n2320     Neuer syn \u00feat he wat3 burne borne of his moder,\r\n         Wat3 he neuer in \u00feis worlde, wy3e half so bly\u00fee:--\r\n     [F] \"Blynne, burne, of \u00fey bur, bede me no mo;\r\n         I haf a stroke in \u00feis sted with-oute stryf hent,\r\n2324 [G] & if \u00feow reche3 me any mo, I redyly schal quyte,\r\n         & 3elde 3ederly a3ayn, & \u00feer to 3e tryst,\r\n                 & foo;\r\n     [H]     Bot on stroke here me falle3,\r\n2328         \u00dee couenaunt schop ry3t so,\r\n             [Sikered][1] in Ar\u00feure3 halle3,\r\n             & \u00feer-fore, hende, now hoo!\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: He let fall his loom on the bare]\r\n[Sidenote B: neck of Sir Gawayne.]\r\n[Sidenote C: The sharp weapon pierced the flesh so that the blood flowed.]\r\n[Sidenote D: When the knight saw the blood on the snow,]\r\n[Sidenote E: he unsheathed his sword, and thus spake:]\r\n[Sidenote F: \"Cease, man, of thy blow.]\r\n[Sidenote G: If thou givest me any more, readily shall I requite thee.]\r\n[Sidenote H: Our agreement stipulates only one stroke.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: Illegible.]\r\n\r\n      XV.\r\n\r\n     [A] The ha\u00feel heldet hym fro, & on his ax rested,\r\n2332     Sette \u00fee schaft vpon schore, & to be scharp lened,\r\n     [B] & loked to \u00fee leude, \u00feat on \u00fee launde 3ede,\r\n         How \u00feat do3ty dredles deruely \u00feer stonde3,\r\n         Armed ful a3le3; in hert hit hym lyke3.\r\n2336     \u00feenn he mele3 muryly, wyth a much steuen,\r\n     [C] & wyth a r[a]ykande rurde he to \u00fee renk sayde,\r\n         \"Bolde burne, on \u00feis bent be not so gryndel;\r\n         No mon here vn-manerly \u00fee mys-boden habbe,\r\n2340     Ne kyd, bot as couenaunde, at kynge3 kort schaped;\r\n     [D] I hy3t \u00fee a strok, & \u00feou hit hat3, halde \u00fee wel payed,\r\n         I relece \u00fee of \u00fee remnaunt, of ry3tes alle o\u00feer;\r\n         3if[1] I deliuer had bene, a boffet, paraunter,\r\n2344 [E] I cou\u00fee wro\u00feeloker haf waret, [&] to \u00fee haf wro3t anger.[2]\r\n         Fyrst I mansed \u00fee muryly, with a mynt one,\r\n     [F] & roue \u00fee wyth no rof, sore with ry3t I \u00fee profered,\r\n         For \u00fee forwarde that we fest in \u00fee fyrst ny3t,        [Fol. 122b.]\r\n2348     & \u00feou trystyly \u00fee traw\u00fee & trwly me halde3,\r\n         Al \u00fee gayne \u00feow me gef, as god mon shulde;\r\n     [G] \u00deat o\u00feer munt for \u00fee morne, mon, I \u00fee profered,\r\n         \u00deou kyssedes my clere wyf, \u00fee cosse3 me ra3te3,\r\n2352     For bo\u00fee two here I \u00fee bede bot two bare myntes,\r\n                 boute sca\u00fee;\r\n     [H]     Trwe mon trwe restore,\r\n             \u00deenne \u00fear mon drede no wa\u00fee;\r\n2356 [I]     At \u00fee \u00ferid \u00feou fayled \u00feore,\r\n             & \u00feer-for \u00feat tappe ta \u00fee.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: The Green Knight rested on his axe,]\r\n[Sidenote B: looked on Sir Gawayne, who appeared bold and fearless,]\r\n[Sidenote C: and addressed him as follows: \"Bold knight, be not so wroth,]\r\n[Sidenote D: I promised thee a stroke and thou hast it, be satisfied.]\r\n[Sidenote E: I could have dealt worse with thee.]\r\n[Sidenote F: I menaced thee with one blow for the covenant between us on\r\n  the first night.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Another I aimed at thee because thou kissedst my wife.]\r\n[Sidenote H: A true man should restore truly, and then he need fear no\r\n  harm.]\r\n[Sidenote I: Thou failedst at the third time, and therefore take thee that\r\n  tap. (See l. 1861.)]\r\n[Footnote 1: uf, in MS.]\r\n[Footnote 2: This word is doubtful.]\r\n\r\n      XVI.\r\n\r\n     [A]  For hit is my wede \u00feat \u00feou were3, \u00feat ilke wouen girdel,\r\n          Myn owen wyf hit \u00fee weued, I wot wel forso\u00fee;\r\n2360 [B] Now know I wel \u00fey cosses, & \u00fey costes als,\r\n         & \u00fee wowyng of my wyf, I wro3t hit myseluen;\r\n     [C] I sende hir to asay \u00fee, & sothly me \u00feynkke3,\r\n         On \u00fee fautlest freke, \u00feat euer on fote 3ede;\r\n2364     As perle bi \u00fee quite pese is of prys more,\r\n         So is Gawayn, in god fayth, bi o\u00feer gay kny3te3.\r\n     [D] Bot here you lakked a lyttel, sir, & lewte yow wonted,\r\n         Bot \u00feat wat3 for no wylyde werke, ne wowyng nau\u00feer,\r\n2368 [E] Bot for 3e lufed your lyf, \u00fee lasse I yow blame.\"\r\n         \u00deat o\u00feer stif mon in study stod a gret whyle;\r\n         So agreued for greme he gryed with-inne,\r\n     [F] Alle \u00fee blode of his brest blende in his face,\r\n2372     \u00deat al he schrank for schome, \u00feat \u00fee schalk talked.\r\n         \u00dee forme worde vpon folde, \u00feat \u00fee freke meled,--\r\n     [G] \"Corsed worth cowarddyse & couetyse bo\u00fee!\r\n         In yow is vylany & vyse, \u00feat vertue disstrye3.\"\r\n2376 [H] \u00deenne he ka3t to \u00fee knot, & \u00fee kest lawse3,\r\n         Brayde bro\u00feely \u00fee belt to \u00fee burne seluen:\r\n         \"Lo! \u00feer \u00fee falssyng, foule mot hit falle!\r\n     [I] For care of \u00fey knokke cowardyse me ta3t\r\n2380     To a-corde me with couetyse, my kynde to for-sake,\r\n         \u00deat is larges & lewte, \u00feat longe3 to kny3te3.\r\n     [J] Now am I fawty, & falce, & ferde haf ben euer;\r\n         Of trecherye & vn-traw\u00fee bo\u00fee bityde sor3e\r\n2384             & care!\r\n     [K]     I bi-knowe yow, kny3t, here stylle,                [Fol. 123.]\r\n             Al fawty is my fare,\r\n             Lete3 me ouer-take your wylle,\r\n2388         & efle I schal be ware.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: For my weed (woven by my wife) thou wearest.]\r\n[Sidenote B: I know thy kisses and my wife's wooing.]\r\n[Sidenote C: I sent her to try thee, and faultless I found thee.]\r\n[Sidenote D: But yet thou sinnedst a little,]\r\n[Sidenote E: for love of thy life.\"]\r\n[Sidenote F: Gawayne stands confounded.]\r\n[Sidenote G: \"Cursed,\" he says, \"be cowardice and covetousness both!\"]\r\n[Sidenote H: Then he takes off the girdle and throws it to the knight.]\r\n[Sidenote I: He curses his cowardice,]\r\n[Sidenote J: and confesses himself to have been guilty of untruth.]\r\n[Sidenote K: ]\r\n\r\n      XVII.\r\n\r\n     [A] Thenne lo3e \u00feat o\u00feer leude, & luflyly sayde,\r\n         \"I halde hit hardily[1] hole, \u00fee harme \u00feat I hade;\r\n     [B] \u00deou art confessed so clene, be-knowen of \u00fey mysses,\r\n2392     & hat3 \u00fee penaunce apert, of \u00fee poynt of myn egge,\r\n     [C] I halde \u00fee polysed of \u00feat ply3t, & pured as clene,\r\n         As \u00feou hade3 neuer forfeted, sy\u00feen \u00feou wat3 fyrst borne.\r\n     [D] & I gif \u00fee, sir, \u00fee gurdel \u00feat is golde hemmed;\r\n2396     For hit is grene as my goune, sir G:, 3e maye\r\n         \u00deenk vpon \u00feis ilke \u00ferepe, \u00feer \u00feou forth \u00ferynge3\r\n         Among prynces of prys, & \u00feis a pure token\r\n     [E] Of \u00fee chaunce of \u00fee grene chapel, at cheualrous kny3te3;\r\n2400 [F] & 3e schal in \u00feis nwe 3er a3ayn to my wone3,\r\n         & we schyn reuel \u00fee remnaunt of \u00feis ryche fest,\r\n                 ful bene.\"\r\n             \u00deer la\u00feed hym fast \u00fee lorde,\r\n2404         & sayde, \"with my wyf, I wene,\r\n             We schal yow wel acorde,\r\n             \u00deat wat3 your enmy kene.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Then the other, laughing, thus spoke:]\r\n[Sidenote B: \"Thou art confessed so clean,]\r\n[Sidenote C: that I hold thee as pure as if thou hadst never been guilty.]\r\n[Sidenote D: I give thee, sir, the gold-hemmed girdle,]\r\n[Sidenote E: as a token of thy adventure at the Green Chapel.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Come again to my abode, and abide there for the remainder of\r\n  the festival.\"]\r\n[Footnote 1: hardilyly, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      XVIII.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"Nay, for so\u00fee,\" quod \u00fee segge, & sesed hys helme,\r\n2408      & hat3 hit of hendely, & \u00fee ha\u00feel \u00feonkke3,\r\n     [B] \"I haf soiorned sadly, sele yow bytyde,\r\n         & he 3elde hit yow 3are, \u00feat 3arkke3 al menskes!\r\n     [C] & comaunde3 me to \u00feat cortays, your comlych fere,\r\n2412     Bo\u00fee \u00feat on & \u00feat o\u00feer, myn honoured ladye3.\r\n         \u00deat \u00feus hor kny3t wyth hor kest han koyntly bigyled.\r\n     [D] Bot hit is no ferly, \u00fea3 a fole madde,\r\n         & \u00feur3 wyles of wymmen be wonen to sor3e;\r\n2416 [E] For so wat3 Adam in erde with one bygyled,\r\n         & Salamon with fele sere, & Samson eft sone3,\r\n         Dalyda dalt hym hys wyrde, & Dauyth \u00feer-after\r\n         Wat3 blended with Barsabe, \u00feat much bale \u00feoled.\r\n2420     Now \u00feese were wrathed wyth her wyles, hit were a wynne huge,\r\n     [F] To luf hom wel, & leue hem not, a leude \u00feat cou\u00fee,\r\n         For \u00fees wer forne[1] \u00fee freest \u00feat fol3ed alle \u00fee sele,     [Fol.]\r\n         Ex-ellently of alle \u00feyse o\u00feer, vnder heuen-ryche,          [123b.]\r\n2424             \u00feat mused;\r\n             & alle \u00feay were bi-wyled,\r\n             With[2] wymmen \u00feat \u00feay vsed,\r\n     [G]     \u00dea3 I be now bigyled,\r\n2428         Me \u00feink me burde be excused.\"\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"Nay, forsooth,\" says Gawayne,]\r\n[Sidenote B: \"I have sojourned sadly, but bliss betide thee!]\r\n[Sidenote C: Commend me to your comely wife and that other lady who have\r\n  beguiled me.]\r\n[Sidenote D: But it is no marvel for a man to be brought to grief through a\r\n  woman's wiles.]\r\n[Sidenote E: Adam, Solomon, Samson, and David were beguiled by women.]\r\n[Sidenote F: How could a man love them and believe them not?]\r\n[Sidenote G: Though I be now beguiled, methinks I should be excused.]\r\n[Footnote 1: forme (?)]\r\n[Footnote 2: with wyth, in MS.]\r\n\r\n      XIX.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"Bot your gordel,\" quod G: \"God yow for-3elde!\r\n         \u00deat wyl I welde wyth good wylle, not for \u00fee wynne golde,\r\n         Ne \u00fee saynt, ne \u00fee sylk, ne \u00fee syde pendaundes,\r\n2432     For wele, ne for worchyp, ne for \u00fee wlonk werkke3,\r\n     [B] Bot in syngne of my surfet I schal se hit ofte;\r\n         When I ride in renoun, remorde to myseluen\r\n         \u00dee faut & \u00fee fayntyse of \u00fee flesche crabbed,\r\n2436     How tender hit is to entyse teches of fyl\u00fee;\r\n     [C] & \u00feus, quen pryde schal me pryk, for prowes of armes,\r\n     [D] \u00dee loke to \u00feis luf lace schal le\u00fee my hert.\r\n         Bot on I wolde yow pray, displeses yow neuer;\r\n2440     Syn 3e be lorde of \u00fee 3onde[r] londe, \u00feer I haf lent inne,\r\n         Wyth yow wyth worschyp,--\u00fee wy3e hit yow 3elde\r\n         \u00deat vp-halde3 \u00fee heuen, & on hy3 sitte3,--\r\n     [E] How norne 3e yowre ry3t nome, & \u00feenne no more?\"\r\n2444     \"\u00deat schal I telle \u00fee trwly,\" quod \u00feat o\u00feer \u00feenne,\r\n     [F] \"Bernlak de Hautdesert I hat in \u00feis londe,\r\n         \u00deur3 my3t of Morgne la Faye, \u00feat in my hous lenges,\r\n         &[1] koyntyse of clergye, bi craftes wel lerned,\r\n2448     \u00dee maystres of Merlyn, mony ho[2] taken;\r\n         For ho hat3 dalt drwry ful dere sum tyme,\r\n         With \u00feat conable klerk, \u00feat knowes alle your kny3te3\r\n                 at hame;\r\n2452         Morgne \u00fee goddes,\r\n             \u00deer-fore hit is hir name;\r\n     [G]     Welde3 non so hy3e hawtesse,\r\n             \u00deat ho ne con make ful tame.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: But God reward you for your girdle.]\r\n[Sidenote B: I will wear it in remembrance of my fault.]\r\n[Sidenote C: And when pride shall prick me,]\r\n[Sidenote D: a look to this lace shall abate it.]\r\n[Sidenote E: But tell me your right name and I shall have done.\"]\r\n[Sidenote F: The Green Knight replies, \"I am called Bernlak de Hautdesert,\r\n  through might of Morgain la Fey, the pupil of Merlin.]\r\n[Sidenote G: She can tame even the haughtiest.]\r\n[Footnote 1: in (?).]\r\n[Footnote 2: ho hat3 (?).]\r\n\r\n      XX.\r\n\r\n2456 [A] Ho wayned me vpon \u00feis wyse to your wynne halle,\r\n         For to assay \u00fee surquidre, 3if hit soth were,\r\n         \u00deat rennes of \u00fee grete renoun of \u00fee Rounde Table;\r\n         Ho wayned me \u00feis wonder, your wytte3 to reue,\r\n2460 [B] For to haf greued Gaynour, & gart hir to dy3e.         [Fol. 124.]\r\n         With gopnyng[1] of \u00feat ilke gomen, \u00feat gostlych speked,\r\n         With his hede in his honde, bifore \u00fee hy3e table.\r\n         \u00deat is ho \u00feat is at home, \u00fee auncian lady;\r\n2464 [C] Ho is euen \u00feyn aunt, Ar\u00feure3 half suster,\r\n         \u00dee duches do3ter of Tyntagelle, \u00feat dere Vter after\r\n     [D] Hade Ar\u00feur vpon, \u00feat a\u00feel is now\u00fee.\r\n         \u00deerfore I e\u00fee \u00fee, ha\u00feel, to com to \u00fey naunt,\r\n2468     Make myry in my hous, my meny \u00fee louies,\r\n         & I wol \u00fee as wel, wy3e, bi my faythe,\r\n         As any gome vnder God, for \u00fey grete trau\u00fee.\"\r\n     [E] & he nikked hym naye, he nolde bi no wayes;\r\n2472     \u00deay acolen & kyssen, [bikennen] ay\u00feer o\u00feer\r\n         To \u00fee prynce of paradise, & parten ry3t \u00feere,\r\n                 on coolde;\r\n     [F]     Gawayn on blonk ful bene,\r\n2476         To \u00fee kynge3 bur3 buske3 bolde,\r\n             & \u00fee kny3t in \u00fee enker grene,\r\n             Whider-warde so euer he wolde.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: It was she who caused me to test the renown of the Round\r\n  Table,]\r\n[Sidenote B: hoping to grieve Guenever and cause her death through fear.]\r\n[Sidenote C: She is even thine aunt.]\r\n[Sidenote D: Therefore come to her and make merry in my house.\"]\r\n[Sidenote E: Gawayne refuses to return with the Green Knight.]\r\n[Sidenote F: On horse full fair he bends to Arthur's hall.]\r\n[Footnote 1: glopnyng (?).]\r\n\r\n      XXI.\r\n\r\n     [A] Wylde waye3 in \u00fee worlde Wowen now ryde3,\r\n2480     On Gryngolet, \u00feat \u00fee grace hade geten of his lyue;\r\n     [B] Ofte he herbered in house, & ofte al \u00feeroute,\r\n         & mony a-venture in vale, & venquyst ofte,\r\n         \u00deat I ne ty3t, at \u00feis tyme, in tale to remene.\r\n2484 [C] \u00dee hurt wat3 hole, \u00feat he hade hent in his nek,\r\n     [D] & \u00fee blykkande belt he bere \u00feeraboute,\r\n         A belef as a bauderyk, bounden bi his syde,\r\n         Loken vnder his lyfte arme, \u00fee lace, with a knot,\r\n2488 [E] In tokenyng he wat3 tane in tech of a faute;\r\n     [F] & \u00feus he commes to \u00fee court, kny3t al in sounde.\r\n     [G] \u00deer wakned wele in \u00feat wone, when wyst \u00fee grete,\r\n         \u00deat gode G: wat3 commen, gayn hit hym \u00feo3t;\r\n2492 [H] \u00dee kyng kysse3 \u00fee kny3t, & \u00fee whene alce,\r\n         & sy\u00feen mony syker kny3t, \u00feat so3t hym to haylce,\r\n     [I] Of his fare \u00feat hym frayned, & ferlyly he telles;\r\n         Biknowo3 alle \u00fee costes of care \u00feat he hade,--\r\n2496     \u00dee chaunce of \u00fee chapel, \u00fee chere of \u00fee kny3t,\r\n     [J] \u00dee luf of \u00fee ladi, \u00fee lace at \u00fee last.                [Fol. 124b.]\r\n         \u00dee nirt in \u00fee nek he naked hem schewed,\r\n     [K] \u00deat he la3t for his vnleute at \u00fee leudes hondes,\r\n2500             for blame;\r\n             He tened quen he schulde telle,\r\n     [L]     He groned for gref & grame;\r\n             \u00dee blod in his face con melle,\r\n2504         When he hit schulde schewe, for schame.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: Wild ways now Gawayne rides.]\r\n[Sidenote B: Oft he harboured in house and oft thereout.]\r\n[Sidenote C: The wound in his neck became whole.]\r\n[Sidenote D: He still carried about him the belt,]\r\n[Sidenote E: in token of his fault.]\r\n[Sidenote F: Thus he comes to the Court of King Arthur.]\r\n[Sidenote G: Great then was the joy of all.]\r\n[Sidenote H: The king and his knights ask him concerning his journey.]\r\n[Sidenote I: Gawayne tells them of his adventures,]\r\n[Sidenote J: the love of the lady, and lastly of the lace.]\r\n[Sidenote K: He showed them the cut in his neck.]\r\n[Sidenote L: He groaned for grief and shame, and the blood rushed into his\r\n  face.]\r\n\r\n      XXII.\r\n\r\n     [A] \"Lo! lorde,\" quod \u00fee leude, & \u00fee lace hondeled,\r\n         \"\u00deis is \u00fee bende of \u00feis blame I bere [in] my nek,\r\n         \u00deis is \u00fee la\u00fee & \u00fee losse, \u00feat I la3t haue,\r\n2508 [B] Of couardise & couetyse, \u00feat I haf ca3t \u00feare,\r\n         \u00deis is \u00fee token of vn-traw\u00fee, \u00feat I am tan inne,\r\n     [C] & I mot nede3 hit were, wyle I may last;\r\n         For non may hyden his harme, bot vnhap ne may hit,\r\n2512     For \u00feer hit one3 is tachched, twynne wil hit neuer.\"\r\n     [D] \u00dee kyng comforte3 \u00fee kny3t, & alle \u00fee court als,\r\n         La3en loude \u00feer-at, & luflyly acorden,\r\n         \u00deat lordes & ladis, \u00feat longed to \u00fee Table,\r\n2516 [E] Vche burne of \u00fee bro\u00feer-hede a bauderyk schulde haue,\r\n         A bende, a belef hym aboute, of a bry3t grene,\r\n     [F] & \u00feat, for sake of \u00feat segge, in swete to were.\r\n         For \u00feat wat3 acorded \u00fee renoun of \u00fee Rounde Table,\r\n2520 [G] & he honoured \u00feat hit hade, euer-more after,\r\n         As hit is breued in \u00fee best boke of romaunce.\r\n     [H] \u00deus in Arthurus day \u00feis aunter bitidde,\r\n         \u00dee Brutus bokees \u00feer-of beres wyttenesse;\r\n2524     Sy\u00feen Brutus, \u00fee bolde burne, bo3ed hider fyrst,\r\n         After \u00fee segge & \u00fee asaute wat3 sesed at Troye,\r\n                 I-wysse;\r\n             Mony auntere3 here bi-forne,\r\n2528         Haf fallen suche er \u00feis:\r\n     [I]     Now \u00feat bere \u00fee croun of \u00feorne,\r\n             He bryng vus to his blysse! AMEN.\r\n\r\n[Sidenote A: \"Lo!\" says he, handling the lace, \"this is the band of blame,]\r\n[Sidenote B: a token of my cowardice and covetousness,]\r\n[Sidenote C: I must needs wear it as long as I live.\"]\r\n[Sidenote D: The king comforts the knight, and all the court too.]\r\n[Sidenote E: Each knight of the brotherhood agrees to wear a bright green\r\n  belt,]\r\n[Sidenote F: for Gawayne's sake,]\r\n[Sidenote G: who ever more honoured it.]\r\n[Sidenote H: Thus in Arthur's day this adventure befell.]\r\n[Sidenote I: He that bore the crown of thorns bring us to His bliss!]\r\n\r\n       *       *       *       *       *\r\n\r\nNOTES.\r\n\r\nLine 8 Ricchis turns, goes,\r\n       The king ...\r\n      Ricchis his reynys and the Renke metys:\r\n      Girden to gedur with \u00feere grete speires.--T.B. l. 1232.\r\n\r\n37    \u00deis kyng lay at Camylot vpon kryst-masse.\r\n      Camalot, in Malory's \"Morte Arthure,\" is said to be the same as\r\n      Winchester. Ritson supposes it to be Caer-went, in Monmouthshire,\r\n      and afterwards confounded with Caer-wynt, or Winchester. But\r\n      popular tradition here seems the best guide, which assigned the site\r\n      of Camalot to the ruins of a castle on a hill, near the church of\r\n      South Cadbury, in Somersetshire (Sir F. Madden).\r\n\r\n65    Nowel nayted o-newe, neuened ful ofte.\r\n      Christmas celebrated anew, mentioned full often.\r\n      Sir F. Madden leaves the word nayted unexplained in his Glossary\r\n      to \"Syr Gawayne.\"\r\n\r\n124   syluener = sylueren, i.e. silver dishes.\r\n\r\n139   lyndes = lendes, loins.\r\n\r\n142   in his muckel, in his greatness.\r\n\r\n184   Wat3 euesed al umbe-torne--? was trimmed, all cut evenly around;\r\n      umbe-torne may be an error for vmbe-corue = cut round.\r\n\r\n216   in gracios werkes. Sir F. Madden reads gracons for gracios, and\r\n      suggests Greek as the meaning of it.\r\n\r\n244-5 As al were slypped vpon slepe so slaked hor lote3\r\n              in hy3e.\r\n      As all were fallen asleep so ceased their words\r\n              in haste (suddenly).\r\n      Sir F. Madden reads slaked horlote3, instead of slaked hor lote3,\r\n      which, according to his glossary, signifies drunken vagabonds.\r\n      He evidently takes horlote3 to be another (and a very uncommon) form\r\n      of harlote3 = harlots. But harlot, or vagabond, would be a very\r\n      inappropriate term to apply to the noble Knights of the Round Table.\r\n      Moreover, slaked never, I think, means drunken. The general sense of\r\n      the verb slake is to let loose, lessen, cease. Cf. lines 411-2,\r\n      where sloke, another form of slake, occurs with a similar meaning:\r\n                 -- layt no fyrre;\r\n                      bot slokes.\r\n                 -- seek no further,\r\n                      but stop (cease).\r\n      Sir F. Madden suggests blows as the explanation of slokes. It\r\n      is, however, a verb in the imperative mood.\r\n\r\n286   Brayn. M\u00e4tzner suggests brayn-wod.\r\n\r\n296   barlay = par loi. This word is exceedingly common in the T. Book\r\n      (see l. 3391).\r\n        I bid you now, barlay, with besines at all\r\n        \u00deat ye set you most soverainly my suster to gete.--T.B. l. 2780.\r\n\r\n394   siker. Sir F. Madden reads swer.\r\n\r\n440   bluk. Sir F. Madden suggests blunk (horse). I am inclined to keep to\r\n      the reading of the MS., and explain bluk as = bulk = trunk. Cf. the\r\n      use of the word Blok in \"Early English Alliterative Poems,\"\r\n      p. 100, l. 272.\r\n\r\n558   derue doel, etc. = great grief. Sir F. Madden reads derne, i.e. secret,\r\n      instead of derue (= derf). Cf. line 564.\r\n\r\n577   knaged, fastened.\r\n        The braunches were borly, sum of bright gold,\r\n        With leuys full luffly, light of the same;\r\n        With burions aboue bright to beholde;\r\n        And fruit on yt fourmyt of fairest of shap,\r\n        Of mony kynd that was knyt, knagged aboue.--T.B. l. 4973.\r\n\r\n629     & ay quere hit is endele3, etc.\r\n\tAnd everywhere it is endless, etc.\r\n      Sir F. Madden reads emdele3, i.e. with equal sides.\r\n\r\n652   for-be = for-bi = surpassing, beyond.\r\n\r\n681   for Hadet read Halet = haled = exiled (?). See line 1049.\r\n\r\n806   auinant = auenaunt, pleasantly. Sir F. Madden reads amnant.\r\n\r\n954   of. Should we not read on (?).\r\n\r\n957     \u00deat o\u00feer wyth a gorger wat3 gered ouer \u00fee swyre.\r\n      The gorger or wimple is stated first to have appeared in Edward the\r\n      First's reign, and an example is found on the monument of Aveline,\r\n      Countess of Lancaster, who died in 1269. From the poem, however, it\r\n      would seem that the gorger was confined to elderly ladies (Sir F.\r\n      Madden).\r\n\r\n968     More lykker-wys on to lyk,\r\n        Wat3 \u00feat scho had on lode.\r\n\r\n\tA more pleasant one to like,\r\n        Was that (one) she had under her control.\r\n\r\n988   tayt = lively, and hence pleasant, agreeable.\r\n\r\n1015  in vayres, in purity.\r\n\r\n1020  dut = dunt (?) = dint (?), referring to sword-sports.\r\n\r\n1022  sayn[t] Ione3 day. This is the 27th of December, and the last of the\r\n      feast. Sometimes the Christmas festivities were prolonged to New\r\n      Year's Day (Sir F. Madden).\r\n\r\n1047  derne dede = secret deed. I would prefer to read derue dede =\r\n      great deed. Cf. lines 558, 564.\r\n\r\n1053  I wot in worlde, etc. = I not (I know not) in worlde, etc.\r\n\r\n1054    I nolde, bot if I hit negh my3t on nw3eres morne,\r\n        For alle \u00fee londe in-wyth Logres, etc.\r\n      I would not [delay to set out], unless I might approach it on New\r\n      Year's morn, for all the lands within England, etc.\r\n\r\n1074  in spenne = in space = in the interval = meanwhile. See line 1503.\r\n\r\n1160  slentyng of arwes. Sir F. Madden reads sleutyng.\r\n        \"Of drawyn swordis sclentyng to and fra,\r\n        The brycht mettale, and othir armouris seir,\r\n        Quharon the sonnys blenkis betis cleir,\r\n        Glitteris and schane, and vnder bemys brycht,\r\n        Castis ane new twynklyng or a lemand lycht.\"\r\n            (G. Douglas' \u00c6neid, Vol. i, p. 421.)\r\n\r\n1281   let lyk = appeared pleased.\r\n\r\n1283    \u00dea3 I were burde bry3test, \u00fee burde in mynde hade, etc.\r\n      The sense requires us to read:\r\n        \u00dea3 ho were burde bry3test, \u00fee burne in mynde hade, etc.\r\n      i.e., Though she were lady fairest, the knight in mind had, etc.\r\n\r\n1440    Long sythen [seuered] for \u00fee sounder \u00feat wi3t for-olde\r\n      Long since separated from the sounder or herd that fierce (one)\r\n      for-aged (grew very old).\r\n        \"Now to speke of the boore, the fyrste year he is\r\n        A pygge of the sounder callyd, as haue I blys;\r\n        The secounde yere an hogge, and soo shall he be,\r\n        And an hoggestere, whan he is of yeres thre;\r\n        And when he is foure yere, a boor shall he be,\r\n        From the sounder of the swyne thenne departyth he;\r\n        A synguler is he soo, for alone he woll go.\"\r\n            (Book of St. Alban's, ed. 1496, sig. d., i.)\r\n\r\n1476  totes = looks, toots.\r\n        Sho went up wightly by a walle syde.\r\n        To the toppe of a toure and tot ouer the water.--T.B. l. 862.\r\n\r\n1623  A verb [? lalede = cried] seems wanting after lorde.\r\n\r\n1702  fnasted, breathed.\r\n        These balfull bestes were, as the boke tellus,\r\n        Full flaumond of fyre with fnastyng of logh.--T.B. l. 168.\r\n\r\n1710  a strothe rande = a rugged path. Cf. the phrases tene greue, l. 1707;\r\n      ro3e greue, l. 1898.\r\n\r\n1719    Thenne wat3 hit lif vpon list, etc.\r\n      Should we not read:\r\n        Thenne wat3 hit list vpon lif, etc.\r\n      i.e., Then was there joy in life, etc.\r\n\r\n1729  bi lag = be-lagh(?) = below (?).\r\n\r\n1780  lyf = lef(?), beloved (one).\r\n\r\n1869    Ho hat3 kyst \u00fee kny3t so to3t.\r\n        She has kissed the knight so courteous.\r\n      Sir F. Madden explains to3t, promptly. To3t seems to be the same as\r\n      the Northumbrian taght in the following extract from the \"Morte\r\n      Arthure\":\r\n        \"There come in at the fyrste course, before the kyng seluene,\r\n        Bare hevedys that ware bryghte, burnyste with sylver,\r\n        Alle with taghte mene and towne in togers fulle ryche.\"--(p. 15.)\r\n      The word towne (well-behaved) still exists in wan-ton, the\r\n      original meaning of which was ill-mannered, ill-bred.\r\n\r\n1909  bray hounde3 = bra\u00fe hounde3, i.e. fierce hounds.\r\n\r\n1995  He hat3 nere \u00feat he so3t = He wat3 nere \u00feat he so3t = He was near to\r\n      that which he sought.\r\n\r\n2160  gedere3 \u00fee rake = takes the path or way.\r\n\r\n2167    \u00dee skwe3 of \u00fee scowtes skayued hym \u00feo3t.\r\n      The shadows of the hills appeared wild (desolate) to him. Sir F.\r\n      Madden reads skayned, of which he gives no explanation.\r\n      Skayued = skayfed, seems to be the N. Prov. English scafe, wild.\r\n      Scotch schaivie, wild, mad. O.N. skeifr. Sw. skef, awry, distorted.\r\n\r\n2204  ronge = clattered.\r\n\r\n2211    Drede dot3 me no lote =\r\n        No noise shall cause me to dread (fear).\r\n\r\n2357    & \u00feer-for \u00feat tappe ta \u00fee.\r\n        And therefore take thee that tap.\r\n      ta \u00fee = take thee. Sir F. Madden reads ta\u00fee = taketh. See l. 413,\r\n      where to \u00fee rhymes with sothe. We have no imperatives in th in\r\n      this poem.\r\n\r\n2401  We schyn reuel, etc. Sir F. Madden reads wasch yn reuel.\r\n      But schyn = shall. See Glossary to \"Alliterative Poems.\"\r\n\r\n2474  on-coolde = on-colde = coldly = sorrowfully.\r\n\r\n2489  in-sounde = soundly, well. Cf. in-blande = together;\r\n      in-lyche, alike; inmydde3, amidst.\r\n\r\n*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14568 ***",1]]},"kind":"categorical","n":2,"n_null":0,"n_unique":2,"null_rate":0.0,"stats":{"cardinality":2,"entropy":1.0,"entropy_ratio":1.0,"top_rate":0.5,"top_value":"\ufeffThe Project Gutenberg eBook of The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems\r\n    \r\nThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and\r\nmost other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions\r\nwhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms\r\nof the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online\r\nat www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,\r\nyou will have to check the laws of the country where you are located\r\nbefore using this eBook.\r\n\r\nTitle: The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems\r\n\r\nAuthor: Geoffrey Chaucer\r\n\r\nEditor: David Laing Purves\r\n\r\nRelease date: November 1, 2000 [eBook #2383]\r\n                Most recently updated: December 6, 2022\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\nCredits: Donal O\u2019Danachair\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CANTERBURY TALES, AND OTHER POEMS ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Canterbury Tales\r\nand Other Poems\r\nof Geoffrey Chaucer\r\n\r\n\r\nEdited for Popular Perusal\r\nby\r\nD. Laing Purves\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nContents\r\n\r\n PREFACE\r\n LIFE OF CHAUCER\r\n THE CANTERBURY TALES\r\n The General Prologue\r\n The Knight\u2019s Tale\r\n The Miller\u2019s tale\r\n The Reeve\u2019s Tale\r\n The Cook\u2019s Tale\r\n The Man of Law\u2019s Tale\r\n The Wife of Bath\u2019s Tale\r\n The Friar\u2019s Tale\r\n The Sompnour\u2019s Tale\r\n The Clerk\u2019s Tale\r\n The Merchant\u2019s Tale\r\n The Squire\u2019s Tale\r\n The Franklin\u2019s Tale\r\n The Doctor\u2019s Tale\r\n The Pardoner\u2019s Tale\r\n The Shipman\u2019s Tale\r\n The Prioress\u2019s Tale\r\n Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Sir Thopas\r\n Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Melib\u0153us\r\n The Monk\u2019s Tale\r\n The Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale\r\n The Second Nun\u2019s Tale\r\n The Canon\u2019s Yeoman\u2019s Tale\r\n The Manciple\u2019s Tale\r\n The Parson\u2019s Tale\r\n Preces de Chauceres\r\n THE COURT OF LOVE <1>\r\n THE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE <1>\r\n THE ASSEMBLY OF FOWLS\r\n THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF <1>\r\n THE HOUSE OF FAME\r\n TROILUS AND CRESSIDA\r\n CHAUCER\u2019S DREAM <1>\r\n THE PROLOGUE TO THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN\r\n CHAUCER\u2019S A.B.C.\r\n MISCELLANEOUS POEMS\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTranscriber\u2019s Note.\r\n\r\n1. Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was not the author of\r\nthese poems.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTranscriber\u2019s Notes:\r\n\r\nCredits: This e-text was scanned, re-formatted and edited with extra notes by\r\nDonal O\u2019 Danachair (kodak_seaside@hotmail.com). I would like to acknowledge the\r\nhelp of Edwin Duncan, Juris Lidaka and Aniina Jokinnen in identifying some of\r\nthe poems no Longer attributed to Chaucer. This e-text, with its notes, is\r\nhereby placed in the public domain.\r\n\r\nPreface: The preface is for a combined volume of poems by Chaucer and Edmund\r\nSpenser. The Spenser poems will shortly be available as a separate E-text.\r\n\r\nSpelling and punctuation: These are the same as in the book as far as possible.\r\nAccents have been removed. Diereses (umlauts) have been removed from English\r\nwords and replaced by \u201ce\u201d in German ones. The AE and OE digraphs have been\r\ntranscribed as two letters. The British pound (currency) sign has been replaced\r\nby a capital L. Greek words have been transliterated.\r\n\r\nFootnotes: The original book has an average of 30 footnotes\r\nper page. These were of three types:\r\n(A) Glosses or explanations of obsolete words and phrases.\r\nThese have been treated as follows:\r\n1. In the poems, they have been moved up into the right-hand\r\nmargin. Some of them have been shortened or paraphrased in\r\norder to fit.\r\nExplanations of single words have a single asterisk at the\r\nend of the word and at the beginning of the explanation*.     *like this\r\nIf two words in the same line have explanations\r\nthe first* has one and the second**, two.          *like this **and this\r\nExplanations of phrases have an asterisk at the\r\nstart and end *of the phrase* and of the explanation         *like this*\r\nSometimes these glosses wrap onto the next line, still in the\r\nright margin. If you read this e-text using a monospaced font\r\n(like Courier in a word processor such as MS Word, or the\r\ndefault font in most text editors) then the marginal notes are\r\nright-justified.\r\n2. In the prose tales,  they have been imbedded into the text in\r\nsquare brackets after the word or phrase they refer to [like this].\r\n(B) Etymological explanations of these words.  These are\r\nindicted by a number in angle brackets in the marginal\r\ngloss.* The note will be found at the                     *like this <1>\r\nend of the poem or section.\r\n(C) Longer notes commenting on or explaining the text. These\r\nare indicated in the text by numbers in angle brackets thus: <1>.\r\nThe note will be found at the end of the poem or section.\r\n\r\nLatin: Despite his declared aim of editing the tales \u201cfor popular perusal\u201d,\r\nPurves has left nearly all Latin quotations untranslated.  I have translated\r\nthem as well as I could \u2014 any errors are my fault, not his.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nPREFACE.\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE object of this volume is to place before the general reader\r\nour two early poetic masterpieces \u2014 The Canterbury Tales and\r\nThe Faerie Queen; to do so in a way that will render their\r\n\u201cpopular perusal\u201d easy in a time of little leisure and unbounded\r\ntemptations to intellectual languor; and, on the same conditions,\r\nto present a liberal and fairly representative selection from the\r\nless important and familiar poems of Chaucer and Spenser.\r\nThere is, it may be said at the outset, peculiar advantage and\r\npropriety in placing the two poets side by side in the manner\r\nnow attempted for the first time.  Although two centuries divide\r\nthem, yet Spenser is the direct and really the immediate\r\nsuccessor to the poetical inheritance of Chaucer.  Those two\r\nhundred years, eventful as they were, produced no poet at all\r\nworthy to take up the mantle that fell from Chaucer\u2019s shoulders;\r\nand Spenser does not need his affected archaisms, nor his\r\nfrequent and reverent appeals to \u201cDan Geffrey,\u201d to vindicate for\r\nhimself a place very close to his great predecessor in the literary\r\nhistory of England. If Chaucer is the \u201cWell of English\r\nundefiled,\u201d Spenser is the broad and stately river that yet holds\r\nthe tenure of its very life from the fountain far away in other\r\nand ruder scenes.\r\n\r\nThe Canterbury Tales, so far as they are in verse, have been\r\nprinted without any abridgement or designed change in the\r\nsense.  But the two Tales in prose \u2014 Chaucer\u2019s Tale of\r\nMelib\u0153us, and the Parson\u2019s long Sermon on Penitence \u2014 have\r\nbeen contracted, so as to exclude thirty pages of unattractive\r\nprose, and to admit the same amount of interesting and\r\ncharacteristic poetry.  The gaps thus made in the prose Tales,\r\nhowever, are supplied by careful outlines of the omitted matter,\r\nso that the reader need be at no loss to comprehend the whole\r\nscope and sequence of the original.  With The Faerie Queen a\r\nbolder course has been pursued. The great obstacle to the\r\npopularity of Spencer\u2019s splendid work has lain less in its\r\nlanguage than in its length.  If we add together the three great\r\npoems of antiquity \u2014 the twenty-four books of the Iliad, the\r\ntwenty-four books of the Odyssey, and the twelve books of the\r\nAeneid \u2014 we get at the dimensions of only one-half of The\r\nFaerie Queen.  The six books, and the fragment of a seventh,\r\nwhich alone exist of the author\u2019s contemplated twelve, number\r\nabout 35,000 verses; the sixty books of Homer and Virgil\r\nnumber no more than 37,000. The mere bulk of the poem, then,\r\nhas opposed a formidable barrier to its popularity; to say\r\nnothing of the distracting effect produced by the numberless\r\nepisodes, the tedious narrations, and the constant repetitions,\r\nwhich have largely swelled that bulk.  In this volume the poem\r\nis compressed into two-thirds of its original space, through the\r\nexpedient of representing the less interesting and more\r\nmechanical passages by a condensed prose outline, in which it\r\nhas been sought as far as possible to preserve the very words of\r\nthe poet.  While deprecating a too critical judgement on the\r\nbare and constrained precis standing in such trying\r\njuxtaposition, it is hoped that the labour bestowed in saving the\r\nreader the trouble of wading through much that is not essential\r\nfor the enjoyment of Spencer\u2019s marvellous allegory, will not be\r\nunappreciated.\r\n\r\nAs regards the manner in which the text of the two great works,\r\nespecially of The Canterbury Tales, is presented, the Editor is\r\naware that some whose judgement is weighty will differ from\r\nhim.  This volume has been prepared \u201cfor popular perusal;\u201d and\r\nits very _raison d\u2019\u00eatre_ would have failed, if the ancient\r\northography had been retained.  It has often been affirmed by\r\neditors of Chaucer in the old forms of the language, that a little\r\ntrouble at first would render the antiquated spelling and\r\nobsolete inflections a continual source, not of difficulty, but of\r\nactual delight, for the reader coming to the study of Chaucer\r\nwithout any preliminary acquaintance with the English of his\r\nday \u2014 or of his copyists\u2019 days.  Despite this complacent\r\nassurance, the obvious fact is, that Chaucer in the old forms has\r\nnot become popular, in the true sense of the word; he is not\r\n\u201cunderstanded of the vulgar.\u201d  In this volume, therefore, the text\r\nof Chaucer has been presented in nineteenth-century garb.  But\r\nthere has been not the slightest attempt to \u201cmodernise\u201d\r\nChaucer, in the wider meaning of the phrase; to replace his\r\nwords by words which he did not use; or, following the example\r\nof some operators, to translate him into English of the modern\r\nspirit as well as the modern forms.  So far from that, in every\r\ncase where the old spelling or form seemed essential to metre,\r\nto rhyme, or meaning, no change has been attempted.  But,\r\nwherever its preservation was not essential, the spelling of the\r\nmonkish transcribers \u2014 for the most ardent purist must now\r\ndespair of getting at the spelling of Chaucer himself \u2014 has been\r\ndiscarded for that of the reader\u2019s own day.  It is a poor\r\ncompliment to the Father of English Poetry, to say that by such\r\ntreatment the bouquet and individuality of his works must be\r\nlost.  If his masterpiece is valuable for one thing more than any\r\nother, it is the vivid distinctness with which English men and\r\nwomen of the fourteenth century are there painted, for the study\r\nof all the centuries to follow.  But we wantonly balk the artist\u2019s\r\nown purpose, and discredit his labour, when we keep before his\r\npicture the screen of dust and cobwebs which, for the English\r\npeople in these days, the crude forms of the infant language\r\nhave practically become.  Shakespeare has not suffered by\r\nsimilar changes; Spencer has not suffered; it would be surprising\r\nif Chaucer should suffer, when the loss of popular\r\ncomprehension and favour in his case are necessarily all the\r\ngreater for his remoteness from our day.  In a much smaller\r\ndegree \u2014 since previous labours in the same direction had left\r\nfar less to do \u2014 the same work has been performed for the\r\nspelling of Spenser; and the whole endeavour in this department\r\nof the Editor\u2019s task has been, to present a text plain and easily\r\nintelligible to the modern reader, without any injustice to the old\r\npoet.  It would be presumptuous to believe that in every case\r\nboth ends have been achieved together; but the laudatores\r\ntemporis acti - the students who may differ most from the plan\r\npursued in this volume \u2014 will best appreciate the difficulty of\r\nthe enterprise, and most leniently regard any failure in the\r\ndetails of its accomplishment.\r\n\r\nWith all the works of Chaucer, outside The Canterbury Tales, it\r\nwould have been absolutely impossible to deal within the scope\r\nof this volume.  But nearly one hundred pages, have been\r\ndevoted to his minor poems; and, by dint of careful selection\r\nand judicious abridgement \u2014 a connecting outline of the story in\r\nall such cases being given \u2014 the Editor ventures to hope that he\r\nhas presented fair and acceptable specimens of Chaucer\u2019s\r\nworkmanship in all styles.  The preparation of this part of the\r\nvolume has been a laborious task; no similar attempt on the\r\nsame scale has been made; and, while here also the truth of the\r\ntext in matters essential has been in nowise sacrificed to mere\r\nease of perusal, the general reader will find opened up for him a\r\nnew view of Chaucer and his works.  Before a perusal of these\r\nhundred pages, will melt away for ever the lingering tradition or\r\nprejudice that Chaucer was only, or characteristically, a coarse\r\nbuffoon, who pandered to a base and licentious appetite by\r\npainting and exaggerating the lowest vices of his time.  In these\r\nselections \u2014 made without a thought of taking only what is to\r\nthe poet\u2019s credit from a wide range of poems in which hardly a\r\nword is to his discredit \u2014 we behold Chaucer as he was; a\r\ncourtier, a gallant, pure-hearted gentleman, a scholar, a\r\nphilosopher, a poet of gay and vivid fancy, playing around\r\nthemes of chivalric convention, of deep human interest, or\r\nbroad-sighted satire.  In The Canterbury Tales, we see, not\r\nChaucer, but Chaucer\u2019s times and neighbours; the artist has lost\r\nhimself in his work. To show him honestly and without disguise,\r\nas he lived his own life and sung his own songs at the brilliant\r\nCourt of Edward III, is to do his memory a moral justice far\r\nmore material than any wrong that can ever come out of\r\nspelling.  As to the minor poems of Spenser, which follow The\r\nFaerie Queen, the choice has been governed by the desire to\r\ngive at once the most interesting, and the most characteristic of\r\nthe poet\u2019s several styles; and, save in the case of the Sonnets,\r\nthe poems so selected are given entire. It is manifest that the\r\nendeavours to adapt this volume for popular use, have been\r\nalready noticed, would imperfectly succeed without the aid of\r\nnotes and glossary, to explain allusions that have become\r\nobsolete, or antiquated words which it was necessary to retain.\r\nAn endeavour has been made to render each page self-\r\nexplanatory, by placing on it all the glossarial and illustrative\r\nnotes required for its elucidation, or \u2014 to avoid repetitions that\r\nwould have occupied space \u2014 the references to the spot where\r\ninformation may be found.  The great advantage of such a plan\r\nto the reader, is the measure of its difficulty for the editor.  It\r\npermits much more flexibility in the choice of glossarial\r\nexplanations or equivalents; it saves the distracting and time-\r\nconsuming reference to the end or the beginning of the book;\r\nbut, at the same time, it largely enhances the liability to error.\r\nThe Editor is conscious that in the 12,000 or 13,000 notes, as\r\nwell as in the innumerable minute points of spelling,\r\naccentuation, and rhythm, he must now and again be found\r\ntripping; he can only ask any reader who may detect all that he\r\ncould himself point out as being amiss, to set off against\r\ninevitable mistakes and misjudgements, the conscientious labour\r\nbestowed on the book, and the broad consideration of its fitness\r\nfor the object contemplated.\r\n\r\n From books the Editor has derived valuable help; as from Mr\r\nCowden Clarke\u2019s revised modern text of The Canterbury Tales,\r\npublished in Mr Nimmo\u2019s Library Edition of the English Poets;\r\nfrom Mr Wright\u2019s scholarly edition of the same work; from the\r\nindispensable Tyrwhitt; from Mr Bell\u2019s edition of Chaucer\u2019s\r\nPoem; from Professor Craik\u2019s \u201cSpenser and his Poetry,\u201d\r\npublished twenty-five years ago by Charles Knight; and from\r\nmany others. In the abridgement of the Faerie Queen,  the plan\r\nmay at first sight seem to be modelled on the lines of Mr Craik\u2019s\r\npainstaking condensation; but the coincidences are either\r\ninevitable or involuntary.  Many of the notes, especially of those\r\nexplaining classical references and those attached to the minor\r\npoems of Chaucer, have been prepared specially for this edition.\r\nThe Editor leaves his task with the hope that his attempt to\r\nremove artificial obstacles to the popularity of  England\u2019s\r\nearliest poets, will not altogether miscarry.\r\n\r\nD. LAING PURVES.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nLIFE OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER.\r\n\r\n\r\nNOT in point of genius only, but even in point of time, Chaucer\r\nmay claim the proud designation of \u201cfirst\u201d English poet. He\r\nwrote \u201cThe Court of Love\u201d in 1345, and \u201cThe Romaunt of the\r\nRose,\u201d if not also \u201cTroilus and Cressida,\u201d probably within the\r\nnext decade: the dates usually assigned to the poems of\r\nLaurence Minot extend from 1335 to 1355, while \u201cThe Vision\r\nof Piers Plowman\u201d mentions events that occurred in 1360 and\r\n1362 \u2014 before which date Chaucer had certainly written \u201cThe\r\nAssembly of Fowls\u201d and his \u201cDream.\u201d But, though they were\r\nhis contemporaries, neither Minot nor Langland (if Langland\r\nwas the author of the Vision) at all approached Chaucer in the\r\nfinish, the force, or the universal interest of their works and the\r\npoems of earlier writer; as Layamon and the author of the\r\n\u201cOrmulum,\u201d are less English than Anglo-Saxon or Anglo-\r\nNorman. Those poems reflected the perplexed struggle for\r\nsupremacy between the two grand elements of our language,\r\nwhich marked the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; a struggle\r\nintimately associated with the political relations between the\r\nconquering Normans and the subjugated Anglo-Saxons.\r\nChaucer found two branches of the language; that spoken by\r\nthe people, Teutonic in its genius and its forms; that spoken by\r\nthe learned and the noble, based on the French  Yet each branch\r\nhad begun to borrow of the other \u2014 just as nobles and people\r\nhad been taught to recognise that each needed the other in the\r\nwars and the social tasks of the time; and Chaucer, a scholar, a\r\ncourtier, a man conversant with all orders of society, but\r\naccustomed to speak, think, and write in the words of the\r\nhighest, by his comprehensive genius cast into the simmering\r\nmould a magical amalgamant which made the two half-hostile\r\nelements unite and interpenetrate each other. Before Chaucer\r\nwrote, there were two tongues in England, keeping alive the\r\nfeuds and resentments of cruel centuries; when he laid down his\r\npen, there was practically but one speech \u2014 there was, and ever\r\nsince has been, but one people.\r\n\r\nGeoffrey Chaucer, according to the most trustworthy traditions-\r\nfor authentic testimonies on the subject are wanting \u2014 was born\r\nin 1328; and London is generally believed to have been his\r\nbirth-place. It is true that Leland, the biographer of England\u2019s\r\nfirst great poet who lived nearest to his time, not merely speaks\r\nof Chaucer as having been  born many years later than the date\r\nnow assigned, but mentions Berkshire or Oxfordshire as the\r\nscene of his birth. So great uncertainty have some felt on the\r\nlatter score, that elaborate parallels have been drawn between\r\nChaucer, and Homer \u2014 for whose birthplace several cities\r\ncontended, and whose descent was traced to the demigods.\r\nLeland may seem to have had fair opportunities of getting at the\r\ntruth about Chaucer\u2019s birth \u2014 for Henry VIII had him, at the\r\nsuppression of the monasteries throughout England, to search\r\nfor records of public interest the archives of the religious\r\nhouses. But it may be questioned whether he was likely to find\r\nmany authentic particulars regarding the personal history of the\r\npoet in the quarters which he explored; and Leland\u2019s testimony\r\nseems to be set aside by Chaucer\u2019s own evidence as to his\r\nbirthplace, and by the contemporary references which make him\r\nout an aged man for years preceding the accepted date of his\r\ndeath. In one of his prose works, \u201cThe Testament of Love,\u201d the\r\npoet speaks of himself in terms that strongly confirm the claim\r\nof London to the honour of giving him birth; for he there\r\nmentions \u201cthe city of London, that is to me so dear and sweet,\r\nin which I was forth growen; and more kindly love,\u201d says he,\r\n\u201chave I to that place than to any other in earth; as every kindly\r\ncreature hath full appetite to that place of his kindly engendrure,\r\nand to will rest and peace in that place to abide.\u201d This tolerably\r\ndirect evidence is supported \u2014 so far as it can be at such an\r\ninterval of time \u2014 by the learned Camden; in his Annals of\r\nQueen Elizabeth, he describes Spencer, who was certainly born\r\nin London, as being a fellow-citizen of Chaucer\u2019s \u2014 \u201cEdmundus\r\nSpenserus, patria Londinensis, Musis adeo arridentibus natus, ut\r\nomnes Anglicos superioris aevi poetas, ne Chaucero quidem\r\nconcive excepto, superaret.\u201d <1> The records of the time notice\r\nmore than one person of the name of Chaucer, who held\r\nhonourable positions about the Court; and though we cannot\r\ndistinctly trace the poet\u2019s relationship with any of these\r\nnamesakes or antecessors, we find excellent ground for belief\r\nthat his family or friends stood well at Court, in the ease with\r\nwhich Chaucer made his way there, and in his subsequent\r\ncareer.\r\n\r\nLike his great successor, Spencer, it was the fortune of Chaucer\r\nto live under a splendid, chivalrous, and high-spirited reign.\r\n1328 was the second year of Edward III; and, what with Scotch\r\nwars, French expeditions, and the strenuous and costly struggle\r\nto hold England in a worthy place among the States of Europe,\r\nthere was sufficient bustle, bold achievement, and high ambition\r\nin the period to inspire a poet who was prepared to catch the\r\nspirit of the day. It was an age of elaborate courtesy, of high-\r\npaced gallantry, of courageous venture, of noble disdain for\r\nmean tranquillity; and Chaucer, on the whole a man of peaceful\r\navocations, was penetrated to the depth of his consciousness\r\nwith the lofty and lovely civil side of that brilliant and restless\r\nmilitary period. No record of his youthful years, however,\r\nremains to us; if we believe that at the age of eighteen he was a\r\nstudent of Cambridge, it is only on the strength of a reference in\r\nhis \u201cCourt of Love\u201d, where the narrator is made to say that his\r\nname is Philogenet, \u201cof Cambridge clerk;\u201d while he had  already\r\ntold us that when he was stirred to seek the Court of Cupid he\r\nwas \u201cat eighteen year of age.\u201d According to Leland, however,\r\nhe was educated at Oxford, proceeding thence to France and\r\nthe Netherlands, to finish his studies; but there remains no\r\ncertain evidence of his having belonged to either University. At\r\nthe same time, it is not doubted that his family was of good\r\ncondition; and, whether or not we accept the assertion that his\r\nfather held the rank of knighthood \u2014 rejecting the hypotheses\r\nthat make him a merchant, or a vintner \u201cat the corner of Kirton\r\nLane\u201d \u2014 it is plain, from Chaucer\u2019s whole career, that he had\r\nintroductions to public life, and recommendations to courtly\r\nfavour, wholly independent of his genius. We have the clearest\r\ntestimony that his mental training was of wide range and\r\nthorough excellence, altogether rare for a mere courtier in those\r\ndays: his poems attest his intimate acquaintance with the\r\ndivinity, the philosophy, and the scholarship of his time, and\r\nshow him to have had the sciences, as then developed and\r\ntaught, \u201cat his fingers\u2019 ends.\u201d Another proof of Chaucer\u2019s good\r\nbirth and fortune would he found in the statement that, after his\r\nUniversity career was completed, he entered the Inner Temple -\r\n- the expenses of which could be borne only by men of noble\r\nand opulent families; but although there is a story that he was\r\nonce fined two shillings for thrashing a Franciscan friar in Fleet\r\nStreet, we have no direct authority for believing that the poet\r\ndevoted himself to the uncongenial study of the law. No special\r\ndisplay of knowledge on that subject appears in his works; yet\r\nin the sketch of the Manciple, in the Prologue to the Canterbury\r\nTales, may be found indications of his familiarity with the\r\ninternal economy of the Inns of Court; while numerous legal\r\nphrases and references hint that his comprehensive information\r\nwas not at fault on legal matters. Leland says that he quitted the\r\nUniversity \u201ca ready logician, a smooth rhetorician, a pleasant\r\npoet, a grave philosopher, an ingenious mathematician, and a\r\nholy divine;\u201d and by all accounts, when Geoffrey Chaucer\r\ncomes before us authentically for the first time, at the age of\r\nthirty-one, he was possessed of knowledge and\r\naccomplishments far beyond the common standard of his day.\r\n\r\nChaucer at this period possessed also other qualities fitted to\r\nrecommend him to favour in a Court like that of Edward III.\r\nUrry describes him, on the authority of a portrait, as being then\r\n\u201cof a fair beautiful complexion, his lips red and full, his size of a\r\njust medium, and his port and air graceful and majestic. So,\u201d\r\ncontinues the ardent biographer, \u2014 \u201cso that every ornament that\r\ncould claim the approbation of the great and fair, his abilities to\r\nrecord the valour of the one, and celebrate the beauty of the\r\nother, and his wit and gentle behaviour to converse with both,\r\nconspired to make him a complete courtier.\u201d  If we believe that\r\nhis \u201cCourt of Love\u201d had received such publicity as the literary\r\nmedia of the time allowed in the somewhat narrow and select\r\nliterary world \u2014 not to speak of \u201cTroilus and Cressida,\u201d which,\r\nas Lydgate mentions it first among Chaucer\u2019s works, some have\r\nsupposed to be a youthful production \u2014 we find a third and not\r\nless powerful recommendation to the favour of the great co-\r\noperating with his learning and his gallant bearing. Elsewhere\r\n<2> reasons have been shown for doubt whether \u201cTroilus and\r\nCressida\u201d should not be assigned to a later period of Chaucer\u2019s\r\nlife; but very little is positively known about the dates and\r\nsequence of his various works. In the year 1386, being called as\r\nwitness with regard to a contest on a point of heraldry between\r\nLord Scrope and Sir Robert Grosvenor, Chaucer deposed that\r\nhe entered on his military career in 1359. In that year Edward\r\nIII invaded France, for the third time, in pursuit of his claim to\r\nthe French crown; and we may fancy that, in describing the\r\nembarkation of the knights in \u201cChaucer\u2019s Dream\u201d, the poet\r\ngained some of the vividness and stir of his picture from his\r\nrecollections of the embarkation of the splendid and well-\r\nappointed royal host at Sandwich, on board the eleven hundred\r\ntransports provided for the enterprise. In this expedition the\r\nlaurels of Poitiers were flung on the ground; after vainly\r\nattempting Rheims and Paris, Edward was constrained, by cruel\r\nweather and lack of provisions, to retreat toward his ships; the\r\nfury of the elements made the retreat more disastrous than an\r\noverthrow in pitched battle; horses and men perished by\r\nthousands, or fell into the hands of the pursuing French.\r\nChaucer, who had been made prisoner at the siege of Retters,\r\nwas among the captives in the possession of France when the\r\ntreaty of Bretigny \u2014 the \u201cgreat peace\u201d \u2014 was concluded, in\r\nMay, 1360. Returning to England, as we may suppose, at the\r\npeace, the poet, ere long, fell into another and a pleasanter\r\ncaptivity; for his marriage is generally believed to have taken\r\nplace shortly after his release from foreign durance.  He had\r\nalready gained the personal friendship and favour of John of\r\nGaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the King\u2019s son; the Duke, while Earl\r\nof Richmond, had courted, and won to wife after a certain\r\ndelay, Blanche, daughter and co-heiress of Henry Duke of\r\nLancaster; and Chaucer is by some believed to have written\r\n\u201cThe Assembly of Fowls\u201d to celebrate the wooing, as he wrote\r\n\u201cChaucer\u2019s Dream\u201d to celebrate the wedding, of his patron. The\r\nmarriage took place in 1359, the year of Chaucer\u2019s expedition to\r\nFrance; and as, in \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls,\u201d the formel or\r\nfemale eagle, who is supposed to represent the Lady Blanche,\r\nbegs that her choice of a mate may be deferred for a year, 1358\r\nand 1359 have been assigned as the respective dates of the two\r\npoems already mentioned.  In the \u201cDream,\u201d Chaucer\r\nprominently introduces his own lady-love, to whom, after the\r\nhappy union of his patron with the Lady Blanche, he is wedded\r\namid great rejoicing; and various expressions in the same poem\r\nshow that not only was the poet high in favour with the\r\nillustrious pair, but that his future wife had also peculiar claims\r\non their regard.  She was the younger daughter of Sir Payne\r\nRoet, a native of Hainault, who had, like many of his\r\ncountrymen, been attracted to England by the example and\r\npatronage of Queen Philippa. The favourite attendant on the\r\nLady Blanche was her elder sister Katherine: subsequently\r\nmarried to Sir Hugh Swynford, a gentleman of Lincolnshire;\r\nand destined, after the death of Blanche, to be in succession\r\ngoverness of her children, mistress of John of Gaunt, and\r\nlawfully-wedded Duchess of Lancaster. It is quite sufficient\r\nproof that Chaucer\u2019s position at Court was of no mean\r\nconsequence, to find that his wife, the sister of the future\r\nDuchess of Lancaster, was one of the royal maids of honour,\r\nand even, as Sir Harris Nicolas conjectures, a god-daughter of\r\nthe Queen \u2014 for her name also was Philippa.\r\n\r\nBetween 1359, when the poet himself testifies that he was made\r\nprisoner while bearing arms in France, and September 1366,\r\nwhen Queen Philippa granted to her former maid of honour, by\r\nthe name of Philippa Chaucer, a yearly pension of ten marks, or\r\nL6, 13s. 4d., we have no authentic mention of Chaucer, express\r\nor indirect. It is plain from this grant that the poet\u2019s marriage\r\nwith Sir Payne Roet\u2019s daughter was not celebrated later than\r\n1366; the probability is, that it closely followed his return from\r\nthe wars. In 1367, Edward III. settled upon Chaucer a life-\r\npension of twenty marks, \u201cfor the good service which our\r\nbeloved Valet \u2014 \u2018dilectus Valettus noster\u2019 \u2014 Geoffrey Chaucer\r\nhas rendered, and will render in time to come.\u201d Camden\r\nexplains \u2018Valettus hospitii\u2019 to signify a Gentleman of the Privy\r\nChamber; Selden says that the designation was bestowed \u201cupon\r\nyoung heirs designed to he knighted, or young gentlemen of\r\ngreat descent and quality.\u201d Whatever the strict meaning of the\r\nword, it is plain that the poet\u2019s position was honourable and\r\nnear to the King\u2019s person, and also that his worldly\r\ncircumstances were easy, if not affluent \u2014 for it need not be said\r\nthat twenty marks in those days represented twelve or twenty\r\ntimes the sum in these.  It is believed that he found powerful\r\npatronage, not merely from the Duke of Lancaster and his wife,\r\nbut from Margaret Countess of Pembroke, the King\u2019s daughter.\r\nTo her Chaucer is supposed to have addressed the \u201cGoodly\r\nBallad\u201d, in which the lady is celebrated under the image of the\r\ndaisy; her he is by some understood to have represented under\r\nthe title of Queen Alcestis, in the \u201cCourt of Love\u201d and the\r\nPrologue to \u201cThe Legend of Good Women;\u201d and in her praise\r\nwe may read his charming descriptions and eulogies of the daisy\r\n\u2014 French, \u201cMarguerite,\u201d the name of his Royal patroness. To\r\nthis period of Chaucer\u2019s career we may probably attribute the\r\nelegant and courtly, if somewhat conventional, poems of \u201cThe\r\nFlower and the Leaf,\u201d \u201cThe Cuckoo and the Nightingale,\u201d &c.\r\n\u201cThe Lady Margaret,\u201d says Urry, \u201c. . . would frequently\r\ncompliment him upon his poems. But this is not to be meant of\r\nhis Canterbury Tales, they being written in the latter part of his\r\nlife, when the courtier and the fine gentleman gave way to solid\r\nsense and plain descriptions. In his love-pieces he was obliged\r\nto have the strictest regard to modesty and decency; the ladies\r\nat that time insisting so much upon the nicest punctilios of\r\nhonour, that it was highly criminal to depreciate their sex, or do\r\nanything that might offend virtue.\u201d Chaucer, in their estimation,\r\nhad sinned against the dignity and honour of womankind by his\r\ntranslation of the French \u201cRoman de la Rose,\u201d and by his\r\n\u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d \u2014 assuming it to have been among his\r\nless mature works; and to atone for those offences the Lady\r\nMargaret (though other and older accounts say that it was the\r\nfirst Queen of Richard II., Anne of Bohemia), prescribed to him\r\nthe task of writing \u201cThe Legend of Good Women\u201d (see\r\nintroductory note to that poem). About this period, too, we\r\nmay place the composition of Chaucer\u2019s A. B. C., or The Prayer\r\nof Our Lady, made at the request of the Duchess Blanche, a\r\nlady of great devoutness in her private life. She died in 1369;\r\nand Chaucer, as he had allegorised her wooing, celebrated her\r\nmarriage, and aided her devotions, now lamented her death, in a\r\npoem entitled \u201cThe Book of the Duchess; or, the Death of\r\nBlanche.<3>\r\n\r\nIn 1370, Chaucer was employed on the King\u2019s service abroad;\r\nand in November 1372, by the title of \u201cScutifer noster\u201d \u2014 our\r\nEsquire or Shield-bearer \u2014 he was associated with \u201cJacobus\r\nPronan,\u201d and \u201cJohannes de Mari civis Januensis,\u201d in a royal\r\ncommission, bestowing full powers to treat with the Duke of\r\nGenoa, his Council, and State.  The object of the embassy was\r\nto negotiate upon the choice of an English port at which the\r\nGenoese might form a commercial establishment; and Chaucer,\r\nhaving quitted England in December, visited Genoa and\r\nFlorence, and returned to England before the end of November\r\n1373 \u2014 for on that day he drew his pension from the Exchequer\r\nin person. The most interesting point connected with this Italian\r\nmission is the question, whether Chaucer visited Petrarch at\r\nPadua. That he did, is unhesitatingly affirmed by the old\r\nbiographers; but the authentic notices of Chaucer during the\r\nyears 1372-1373, as shown by the researches of Sir Harris\r\nNicolas, are confined to the facts already stated; and we are left\r\nto answer the question by the probabilities of the case, and by\r\nthe aid of what faint light the poet himself affords. We can\r\nscarcely fancy that Chaucer, visiting Italy for the first time, in a\r\ncapacity which opened for him easy access to the great and the\r\nfamous, did not embrace the chance of meeting a poet whose\r\nworks he evidently knew in their native tongue, and highly\r\nesteemed.  With Mr Wright, we are strongly disinclined to\r\nbelieve \u201cthat Chaucer did not profit by the opportunity . . . of\r\nimproving his acquaintance with the poetry, if not the poets, of\r\nthe country he thus visited, whose influence was now being felt\r\non the literature of most countries of Western Europe.\u201d That\r\nChaucer was familiar with the Italian language appears not\r\nmerely from his repeated selection as Envoy to Italian States,\r\nbut by many passages in his poetry, from \u201cThe Assembly of\r\nFowls\u201d to \u201cThe Canterbury Tales.\u201d In the opening of the first\r\npoem  there is a striking parallel to Dante\u2019s inscription on the\r\ngate of Hell.  The first Song of Troilus, in \u201cTroilus and\r\nCressida\u201d, is a nearly literal translation of Petrarch\u2019s 88th\r\nSonnet. In the Prologue to \u201cThe Legend of Good Women\u201d,\r\nthere is a reference to Dante which can hardly have reached the\r\npoet at second- hand. And in Chaucer\u2019s great work \u2014 as in The\r\nWife of Bath\u2019s Tale, and The Monk\u2019s Tale  \u2014 direct reference by\r\nname is made to Dante, \u201cthe wise poet of Florence,\u201d \u201cthe great\r\npoet of Italy,\u201d as the source whence the author has quoted.\r\nWhen we consider the poet\u2019s high place in literature and at\r\nCourt, which could not fail to make him free of the hospitalities\r\nof the brilliant little Lombard States; his familiarity with the\r\ntongue and the works of Italy\u2019s greatest bards, dead and living;\r\nthe reverential regard which he paid to the memory of great\r\npoets, of which we have examples in \u201cThe House of Fame,\u201d and\r\nat the close of \u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d <4>; along with his own\r\ntestimony in the Prologue to The Clerk\u2019s Tale, we cannot fail to\r\nconstrue that testimony as a declaration that the Tale was\r\nactually told to Chaucer by the lips of Petrarch, in 1373, the\r\nvery year in which Petrarch translated it into Latin, from\r\nBoccaccio\u2019s \u201cDecameron.\u201d<5>   Mr Bell notes the objection to\r\nthis interpretation, that the words are put into the mouth, not of\r\nthe poet, but of the Clerk; and meets it by the counter-\r\nobjection, that the Clerk, being a purely imaginary personage,\r\ncould not have learned the story at Padua from Petrarch \u2014 and\r\ntherefore that Chaucer must have departed from the dramatic\r\nassumption maintained in the rest of the dialogue. Instances\r\ncould be adduced from Chaucer\u2019s writings to show that such a\r\nsudden \u201cdeparture from the dramatic assumption\u201d would not be\r\nunexampled: witness the \u201caside\u201d in The Wife of Bath\u2019s\r\nPrologue, where, after the jolly Dame has asserted that \u201chalf so\r\nboldly there can no man swear and lie as a woman can\u201d, the\r\npoet hastens to interpose, in his own person, these two lines:\r\n\r\n\u201cI say not this by wives that be wise,\r\nBut if it be when they them misadvise.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nAnd again, in the Prologue to the \u201cLegend of Good Women,\u201d\r\nfrom a description of the daisy \u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cShe is the clearness and the very light,\r\nThat in this darke world me guides and leads,\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nthe poet, in the very next lines, slides into an address to his lady:\r\n\r\n\u201cThe heart within my sorrowful heart you dreads\r\nAnd loves so sore, that ye be, verily,\r\nThe mistress of my wit, and nothing I,\u201d &c.\r\n\r\n\r\nWhen, therefore, the Clerk of Oxford is made to say that he will\r\ntell a tale \u2014\r\n\r\n                          \u201cThe which that I\r\nLearn\u2019d at Padova of a worthy clerk,\r\nAs proved by his wordes and his werk.\r\nHe is now dead, and nailed in his chest,\r\nI pray to God to give his soul good rest.\r\nFrancis Petrarc\u2019, the laureate poete,\r\nHighte this clerk, whose rhetoric so sweet\r\nIllumin\u2019d all Itaile of poetry. . . .\r\nBut forth to tellen of this worthy man,\r\nThat taughte me this tale, as I began.\u201d . . .\r\n\r\n\r\nwe may without violent effort believe that Chaucer speaks in his\r\nown person, though dramatically the words are on the Clerk\u2019s\r\nlips.  And the belief is not impaired by the sorrowful way in\r\nwhich the Clerk lingers on Petrarch\u2019s death \u2014 which would be\r\nless intelligible if the fictitious narrator had only read the story\r\nin the Latin translation, than if we suppose the news of\r\nPetrarch\u2019s death at Arqua in July 1374 to have closely followed\r\nChaucer to England, and to have cruelly and irresistibly mingled\r\nitself with our poet\u2019s personal recollections of his great Italian\r\ncontemporary.  Nor must we regard as without significance the\r\nmanner in which the Clerk is made to distinguish between the\r\n\u201cbody\u201d of Petrarch\u2019s tale, and the fashion in which it was set\r\nforth in writing, with a proem that seemed \u201ca thing\r\nimpertinent\u201d, save that the poet had chosen in that way to\r\n\u201cconvey his matter\u201d \u2014 told, or \u201ctaught,\u201d so much more directly\r\nand simply by word of mouth. It is impossible to pronounce\r\npositively on the subject; the question whether Chaucer saw\r\nPetrarch in 1373 must remain a moot-point, so long as we have\r\nonly our present information; but fancy loves to dwell on the\r\nthought of the two poets conversing under the vines at Arqua;\r\nand we find in the history and the writings of Chaucer nothing\r\nto contradict, a good deal to countenance, the belief that such a\r\nmeeting occurred.\r\n\r\nThough we have no express record, we have indirect testimony,\r\nthat Chaucer\u2019s Genoese mission was discharged satisfactorily;\r\nfor on the 23d of April 1374, Edward III grants at Windsor to\r\nthe poet, by the title of \u201cour beloved squire\u201d \u2014 dilecto Armigero\r\nnostro \u2014 unum pycher. vini, \u201cone pitcher of wine\u201d daily, to be\r\n\u201cperceived\u201d in the port of London; a grant which, on the\r\nanalogy of more modern usage, might he held equivalent to\r\nChaucer\u2019s appointment as Poet Laureate. When we find that\r\nsoon afterwards the grant was commuted for a money payment\r\nof twenty marks per annum, we need not conclude that\r\nChaucer\u2019s circumstances were poor; for it may be easily\r\nsupposed that the daily \u201cperception\u201d of such an article of\r\nincome was attended with considerable prosaic inconvenience.\r\nA permanent provision for Chaucer was made on the 8th of\r\nJune 1374, when he was appointed Controller of the Customs in\r\nthe Port of London, for the lucrative imports of wools, skins or\r\n\u201cwool-fells,\u201d and tanned hides \u2014 on condition that he should\r\nfulfil the duties of that office in person and not by deputy, and\r\nshould write out the accounts with his own hand.  We have\r\nwhat seems evidence of Chaucer\u2019s compliance with these terms\r\nin \u201cThe House of Fame\u201d, where, in the mouth of the eagle, the\r\npoet describes himself, when he has finished his labour and\r\nmade his reckonings, as not seeking rest and news in social\r\nintercourse, but going home to his own house, and there, \u201call so\r\ndumb as any stone,\u201d sitting \u201cat another book,\u201d until his look is\r\ndazed; and again, in the record that in 1376 he received a grant\r\nof L731, 4s. 6d., the amount of a fine levied on one John Kent,\r\nwhom Chaucer\u2019s vigilance had frustrated in the attempt to ship a\r\nquantity of wool for Dordrecht without paying the duty. The\r\nseemingly derogatory condition, that the Controller should\r\nwrite out the accounts or rolls (\u201crotulos\u201d) of his office with his\r\nown hand, appears to have been designed, or treated, as merely\r\nformal; no records in Chaucer\u2019s handwriting are known to exist\r\n\u2014 which could hardly be the case if, for the twelve years of his\r\nControllership (1374-1386), he had duly complied with the\r\ncondition; and during that period he was more than once\r\nemployed abroad, so that the condition was evidently regarded\r\nas a formality even by those who had imposed it.  Also in 1374,\r\nthe Duke of Lancaster, whose ambitious views may well have\r\nmade him anxious to retain the adhesion of a man so capable\r\nand accomplished as Chaucer, changed into a joint life-annuity\r\nremaining to the survivor, and charged on the revenues of the\r\nSavoy, a pension of L10 which two years before he settled on\r\nthe poet\u2019s wife \u2014 whose sister was then the governess of the\r\nDuke\u2019s two daughters, Philippa and Elizabeth, and the Duke\u2019s\r\nown mistress.  Another proof of Chaucer\u2019s personal reputation\r\nand high Court favour at this time, is his selection (1375) as\r\nward to the son of Sir Edmond Staplegate of Bilsynton, in Kent;\r\na charge on the surrender of which the guardian received no\r\nless a sum than L104.\r\n\r\nWe find Chaucer in 1376 again employed on a foreign mission.\r\nIn 1377, the last year of Edward III., he was sent to Flanders\r\nwith Sir Thomas Percy, afterwards Earl of Worcester, for the\r\npurpose of obtaining a prolongation of the truce; and in January\r\n13738, he was associated with Sir Guichard d\u2019Angle and other\r\nCommissioners, to pursue certain negotiations for a marriage\r\nbetween Princess Mary of France and the young King Richard\r\nII., which had been set on foot before the death of Edward III.\r\nThe negotiation, however, proved fruitless; and in May 1378,\r\nChaucer was selected to accompany Sir John Berkeley on a\r\nmission to the Court of Bernardo Visconti, Duke of Milan, with\r\nthe view, it is supposed, of concerting military plans against the\r\noutbreak of war with France.  The new King, meantime, had\r\nshown that he was not insensible to Chaucer\u2019s merit  \u2014 or to the\r\ninfluence of his tutor and the poet\u2019s patron, the Duke of\r\nLancaster; for Richard II. confirmed to Chaucer his pension of\r\ntwenty marks, along with an equal annual sum, for which the\r\ndaily pitcher of wine granted in 1374 had been commuted.\r\nBefore his departure for Lombardy, Chaucer \u2014 still holding his\r\npost in the Customs \u2014 selected two representatives or trustees,\r\nto protect his estate against legal proceedings in his absence, or\r\nto sue in his name defaulters and offenders against the imposts\r\nwhich he was charged to enforce. One of these trustees was\r\ncalled Richard Forrester; the other was John Gower, the poet,\r\nthe most famous English contemporary of Chaucer, with whom\r\nhe had for many years been on terms of admiring friendship \u2014\r\nalthough, from the strictures passed on certain productions of\r\nGower\u2019s in the Prologue to The Man of Law\u2019s Tale,<6> it has\r\nbeen supposed that in the later years of Chaucer\u2019s life the\r\nfriendship suffered some diminution. To the \u201cmoral Gower\u201d and\r\n\u201cthe philosophical Strode,\u201d Chaucer \u201cdirected\u201d or dedicated his\r\n\u201cTroilus and Cressida;\u201d <7> while, in the \u201cConfessio Amantis,\u201d\r\nGower introduces a handsome compliment to his greater\r\ncontemporary, as the \u201cdisciple and the poet\u201d of Venus, with\r\nwhose glad songs and ditties, made in her praise during the\r\nflowers of his youth, the land was filled everywhere.  Gower,\r\nhowever \u2014 a monk and a Conservative \u2014 held to the party of\r\nthe Duke of Gloucester, the rival of the Wycliffite and\r\ninnovating Duke of Lancaster, who was Chaucer\u2019s patron, and\r\nwhose cause was not a little aided by Chaucer\u2019s strictures on the\r\nclergy; and thus it is not impossible that political differences\r\nmay have weakened the old bonds of personal friendship and\r\npoetic esteem. Returning from Lombardy early in 1379,\r\nChaucer seems to have been again sent abroad; for the records\r\nexhibit no trace of him between May and December of that\r\nyear. Whether by proxy or in person, however, he received his\r\npensions regularly until 1382, when his income was increased\r\nby his appointment to the post of Controller of Petty Customs\r\nin the port of London.  In November 1384, he obtained a\r\nmonth\u2019s leave of absence on account of his private affairs, and a\r\ndeputy was appointed to fill his place; and in February of the\r\nnext year he was permitted to appoint a permanent deputy \u2014\r\nthus at length gaining relief from that close attention to business\r\nwhich probably curtailed the poetic fruits of the poet\u2019s most\r\npowerful years. <8>\r\n\r\nChaucer is next found occupying a post which has not often\r\nbeen held by men gifted with his peculiar genius \u2014 that of a\r\ncounty member. The contest between the Dukes of Gloucester\r\nand Lancaster, and their adherents, for the control of the\r\nGovernment, was coming to a crisis; and when the recluse and\r\nstudious Chaucer was induced to offer himself to the electors of\r\nKent as one of the knights of their shire \u2014 where presumably he\r\nheld property \u2014 we may suppose that it was with the view of\r\nsupporting his patron\u2019s cause in the impending conflict. The\r\nParliament in which the poet sat assembled at Westminster on\r\nthe 1st of October, and was dissolved on the 1st of November,\r\n1386. Lancaster was fighting and intriguing abroad, absorbed in\r\nthe affairs of his Castilian succession; Gloucester and his friends\r\nat home had everything their own way; the Earl of Suffolk was\r\ndismissed from the woolsack, and impeached by the Commons;\r\nand although Richard at first stood out courageously for the\r\nfriends of his uncle Lancaster, he was constrained, by the refusal\r\nof supplies, to consent to the proceedings of Gloucester. A\r\ncommission was wrung from him, under protest, appointing\r\nGloucester, Arundel, and twelve other Peers and prelates, a\r\npermanent council to inquire into the condition of all the public\r\ndepartments, the courts of law, and the royal household, with\r\nabsolute powers of redress and dismissal. We need not ascribe\r\nto Chaucer\u2019s Parliamentary exertions in his patron\u2019s behalf, nor\r\nto any malpractices in his official conduct, the fact that he was\r\namong the earliest victims of the commission.<9>  In December\r\n1386, he was dismissed from both his offices in the port of\r\nLondon; but he retained his pensions, and drew them regularly\r\ntwice a year at the Exchequer until 1388. In 1387, Chaucer\u2019s\r\npolitical reverses were aggravated by a severe domestic\r\ncalamity: his wife died, and with her died the pension which had\r\nbeen settled on her by Queen Philippa in 1366, and confirmed to\r\nher at Richard\u2019s accession in 1377.  The change made in\r\nChaucer\u2019s pecuniary position, by the loss of his offices and his\r\nwife\u2019s pension, must have been very great. It would appear that\r\nduring his prosperous times he had lived in a style quite equal to\r\nhis income, and had no ample resources against a season of\r\nreverse; for, on the 1st of May 1388, less than a year and a half\r\nafter being dismissed from the Customs, he was constrained to\r\nassign his pensions, by surrender in Chancery, to one John\r\nScalby.  In May 1389, Richard II., now of age, abruptly\r\nresumed the reins of government, which, for more than two\r\nyears, had been ably but cruelly managed by Gloucester. The\r\nfriends of Lancaster were once more supreme in the royal\r\ncouncils, and Chaucer speedily profited by the change. On the\r\n12th of July he was appointed Clerk of the King\u2019s Works at the\r\nPalace of Westminster, the Tower, the royal manors of\r\nKennington, Eltham, Clarendon, Sheen, Byfleet, Childern\r\nLangley, and Feckenham, the castle of Berkhamstead, the royal\r\nlodge of Hathenburgh in the New Forest, the lodges in the\r\nparks of Clarendon, Childern Langley, and Feckenham, and the\r\nmews for the King\u2019s falcons at Charing Cross; he received a\r\nsalary of two shillings per day, and was allowed to perform the\r\nduties by deputy. For some reason unknown, Chaucer held this\r\nlucrative office <10> little more than two years, quitting it\r\nbefore the 16th of September 1391, at which date it had passed\r\ninto the hands of one John Gedney. The next two years and a\r\nhalf are a blank, so far as authentic records are concerned;\r\nChaucer is supposed to have passed them in retirement,\r\nprobably devoting them principally to the composition of The\r\nCanterbury Tales. In February 1394, the King conferred upon\r\nhim a grant of L20 a year for life; but he seems to have had no\r\nother source of income, and to have become embarrassed by\r\ndebt, for frequent memoranda of small advances on his pension\r\nshow that his circumstances were, in comparison, greatly\r\nreduced.  Things appear to have grown worse and worse with\r\nthe poet; for in May 1398 he was compelled to obtain from the\r\nKing letters of protection against arrest, extending over a term\r\nof two years. Not for the first time, it is true \u2014 for similar\r\ndocuments had been issued at the beginning of Richard\u2019s reign;\r\nbut at that time Chaucer\u2019s missions abroad, and his responsible\r\nduties in the port of London, may have furnished reasons for\r\nsecuring him against annoyance or frivolous prosecution, which\r\nwere wholly wanting at the later date.  In 1398, fortune began\r\nagain to smile upon him; he received a royal grant of a tun of\r\nwine annually, the value being about L4. Next year, Richard II\r\nhaving been deposed by the son of John of Gaunt <11>  \u2014\r\nHenry of Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster \u2014 the new King, four\r\ndays after hits accession, bestowed on Chaucer a grant of forty\r\nmarks (L26, 13s. 4d.) per annum, in addition to the pension of\r\nL20 conferred by Richard II. in 1394.  But the poet, now\r\nseventy-one years of age, and probably broken down by the\r\nreverses of the past few years, was not destined long to enjoy\r\nhis renewed prosperity.  On Christmas Eve of 1399, he entered\r\non the possession of a house in the garden of the Chapel of the\r\nBlessed Mary of Westminster \u2014 near to the present site of\r\nHenry VII.\u2019s Chapel \u2014 having obtained a lease from Robert\r\nHermodesworth, a monk of the adjacent convent, for fifty-three\r\nyears, at the annual rent of four marks (L2, 13s. 4d.) Until the\r\n1st of March 1400, Chaucer drew his pensions in person; then\r\nthey were received for him by another hand; and on the 25th of\r\nOctober, in the same year, he died, at the age of seventy-two.\r\nThe only lights thrown by his poems on his closing days are\r\nfurnished in the little ballad called \u201cGood Counsel of Chaucer,\u201d\r\n\u2014 which, though said to have been written when \u201cupon his\r\ndeath-bed lying in his great anguish, \u201cbreathes the very spirit of\r\ncourage, resignation, and philosophic calm; and by the\r\n\u201cRetractation\u201d at the end of The Canterbury Tales, which, if it\r\nwas not foisted in by monkish transcribers, may be supposed the\r\neffect of Chaucer\u2019s regrets and self-reproaches on that solemn\r\nreview of his life-work which the close approach of death\r\ncompelled. The poet was buried in Westminster Abbey; <12>\r\nand not many years after his death a slab was  placed on a pillar\r\nnear his grave, bearing the lines, taken from an epitaph or\r\neulogy made by Stephanus Surigonus of Milan, at the request of\r\nCaxton:\r\n\r\n\u201cGalfridus Chaucer, vates, et fama poesis\r\nMaternae, hoc sacra sum tumulatus humo.\u201d <13>\r\n\r\n\r\nAbout 1555, Mr Nicholas Brigham, a gentleman of Oxford who\r\ngreatly admired the genius of Chaucer, erected the present\r\ntomb, as near to the spot where the poet lay, \u201cbefore the chapel\r\nof St Benet,\u201d as was then possible by reason of the \u201ccancelli,\u201d\r\n<14> which the Duke of Buckingham subsequently obtained\r\nleave to remove, that room might be made for the tomb of\r\nDryden.  On the structure of Mr Brigham, besides a full-length\r\nrepresentation of Chaucer, taken from a portrait drawn by his\r\n\u201cscholar\u201d Thomas Occleve, was \u2014 or is, though now almost\r\nillegible \u2014 the following inscription:\u2014\r\n\r\nM. S.\r\nQUI FUIT ANGLORUM VATES TER MAXIMUS OLIM,\r\nGALFRIDUS CHAUCER CONDITUR HOC TUMULO;\r\nANNUM SI QUAERAS DOMINI, SI TEMPORA VITAE,\r\nECCE NOTAE SUBSUNT, QUE TIBI CUNCTA NOTANT.\r\n25 OCTOBRIS 1400.\r\nAERUMNARUM REQUIES MORS.\r\nN. BRIGHAM HOS FECIT MUSARUM NOMINE SUMPTUS\r\n1556. <15>\r\n\r\n\r\nConcerning his personal appearance and habits, Chaucer has not\r\nbeen reticent in his poetry. Urry sums up the traits of his aspect\r\nand character fairly thus: \u201cHe was of a middle stature, the latter\r\npart of his life inclinable to be fat and corpulent, as appears by\r\nthe Host\u2019s bantering him in the journey to Canterbury, and\r\ncomparing shapes with him.<16>  His face was fleshy, his\r\nfeatures just and regular, his complexion fair, and somewhat\r\npale, his hair of a dusky yellow, short and thin; the hair of his\r\nbeard in two forked tufts, of a wheat colour; his forehead broad\r\nand smooth; his eyes inclining usually to the ground, which is\r\nintimated by the Host\u2019s words; his whole face full of liveliness, a\r\ncalm, easy sweetness, and a studious Venerable aspect. . . . As\r\nto his temper, he had a mixture of the gay, the modest, and the\r\ngrave. The sprightliness of his humour was more distinguished\r\nby his writings than by his appearance; which gave occasion to\r\nMargaret Countess of Pembroke often to rally him upon his\r\nsilent modesty in company, telling him, that his absence was\r\nmore agreeable to her than his conversation, since the first was\r\nproductive of agreeable pieces of wit in his writings, <17> but\r\nthe latter was filled with a modest deference, and a too distant\r\nrespect.  We see nothing merry or jocose in his behaviour with\r\nhis pilgrims, but a silent attention to their mirth, rather than any\r\nmixture of his own. . .  When disengaged from public affairs, his\r\ntime was entirely spent in study and reading; so agreeable to\r\nhim was this exercise, that he says he preferred it to all other\r\nsports and diversions.<18>  He lived within himself, neither\r\ndesirous to hear nor busy to concern himself with the affairs of\r\nhis neighbours. His course of living was temperate and regular;\r\nhe went to rest with the sun, and rose before it; and by that\r\nmeans enjoyed the pleasures of the better part of the day, his\r\nmorning walk and fresh contemplations.  This gave him the\r\nadvantage of describing the morning in so lively a manner as he\r\ndoes everywhere in his works. The springing sun glows warm in\r\nhis lines, and the fragrant air blows cool in his descriptions; we\r\nsmell the sweets of the bloomy haws, and hear the music of the\r\nfeathered choir, whenever we take a forest walk with him. The\r\nhour of the day is not easier to be discovered from the reflection\r\nof the sun in Titian\u2019s paintings, than in Chaucer\u2019s morning\r\nlandscapes. . . . His reading was deep and extensive, his\r\njudgement sound and discerning. . . In one word, he was a great\r\nscholar, a pleasant wit, a candid critic, a sociable companion, a\r\nsteadfast friend, a grave philosopher, a temperate economist,\r\nand a pious Christian.\u201d\r\n\r\nChaucer\u2019s most important poems are \u201cTroilus and Cressida,\u201d\r\n\u201cThe Romaunt of the Rose,\u201d and \u201cThe Canterbury Tales.\u201d  Of\r\nthe first, containing 8246 lines, an abridgement, with a prose\r\nconnecting outline of the story, is given in this volume. With the\r\nsecond, consisting of 7699 octosyllabic verses, like those in\r\nwhich \u201cThe House of Fame\u201d is written, it was found impossible\r\nto deal in the present edition. The poem is a curtailed translation\r\nfrom the French \u201cRoman de la Rose\u201d \u2014 commenced by\r\nGuillaume de Lorris, who died in 1260, after contributing 4070\r\nverses, and completed, in the last quarter of the thirteenth\r\ncentury, by Jean de Meun, who added some 18,000 verses. It is\r\na satirical allegory, in which the vices of courts, the corruptions\r\nof the clergy, the disorders and inequalities of society in general,\r\nare unsparingly attacked, and the most revolutionary doctrines\r\nare advanced; and though, in making his translation, Chaucer\r\nsoftened or eliminated much of the satire of the poem, still it\r\nremained, in his verse, a caustic exposure of the abuses of the\r\ntime, especially those which discredited the Church.\r\n\r\nThe Canterbury Tales are presented in this edition with as near\r\nan approach to completeness as regard for the popular character\r\nof the volume permitted. The 17,385 verses, of which the\r\npoetical Tales consist, have been given without abridgement or\r\npurgation \u2014 save in a single couplet; but, the main purpose of\r\nthe volume being to make the general reader acquainted with\r\nthe \u201cpoems\u201d of Chaucer and Spenser, the Editor has ventured to\r\ncontract the two prose Tales \u2014 Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Melib\u0153us,\r\nand the Parson\u2019s Sermon or Treatise on Penitence \u2014 so as to\r\nsave about thirty pages for the introduction of Chaucer\u2019s minor\r\npieces. At the same time, by giving prose outlines of the omitted\r\nparts, it has been sought to guard the reader against the fear\r\nthat he was losing anything essential, or even valuable. It is\r\nalmost needless to describe the plot, or point out the literary\r\nplace, of the Canterbury Tales. Perhaps in the entire range of\r\nancient and modern literature there is no work that so clearly\r\nand freshly paints for future times the picture of the past;\r\ncertainly no Englishman has ever approached Chaucer in the\r\npower of fixing for ever the fleeting traits of his own time.  The\r\nplan of the poem had been adopted before Chaucer chose it;\r\nnotably in the \u201cDecameron\u201d of Boccaccio \u2014 although, there, the\r\ncircumstances under which the tales were told, with the terror\r\nof the plague hanging over the merry company, lend a grim\r\ngrotesqueness to the narrative, unless we can look at it\r\nabstracted from its setting.  Chaucer, on the other hand, strikes\r\na perpetual key-note of gaiety whenever he mentions the word\r\n\u201cpilgrimage;\u201d and at every stage of the connecting story we\r\nbless the happy thought which gives us incessant incident,\r\nmovement, variety, and unclouded but never monotonous\r\njoyousness.\r\n\r\nThe poet, the evening before he starts on a pilgrimage to the\r\nshrine of St Thomas at Canterbury, lies at the Tabard Inn, in\r\nSouthwark, curious to know in what companionship he is\r\ndestined to fare forward on the morrow. Chance sends him\r\n\u201cnine and twenty in a company,\u201d representing all orders of\r\nEnglish society, lay and clerical, from the Knight and the Abbot\r\ndown to the Ploughman and the Sompnour. The jolly Host of\r\nthe Tabard, after supper, when tongues are loosened and hearts\r\nare opened, declares that \u201cnot this year\u201d has he seen such a\r\ncompany at once under his roof-tree, and proposes that, when\r\nthey set out next morning, he should ride with them and make\r\nthem sport. All agree, and Harry Bailly unfolds his scheme: each\r\npilgrim, including the poet, shall tell two tales on the road to\r\nCanterbury, and two on the way back to London; and he whom\r\nthe general voice pronounces to have told the best tale, shall be\r\ntreated to a supper at the common cost \u2014 and, of course, to\r\nmine Host\u2019s profit \u2014 when the cavalcade returns from the saint\u2019s\r\nshrine to the Southwark hostelry. All joyously assent; and early\r\non the morrow, in the gay spring sunshine, they ride forth,\r\nlistening to the heroic tale of the brave and gentle Knight, who\r\nhas been gracefully chosen by the Host to lead the spirited\r\ncompetition of story-telling.\r\n\r\nTo describe thus the nature of the plan, and to say that when\r\nChaucer conceived, or at least began to execute it, he was\r\nbetween sixty and seventy years of age, is to proclaim that The\r\nCanterbury Tales could never be more than a fragment. Thirty\r\npilgrims, each telling two tales on the way out, and two more\r\non the way back \u2014 that makes 120 tales; to say nothing of the\r\nprologue, the description of the journey, the occurrences at\r\nCanterbury, \u201cand all the remnant of their pilgrimage,\u201d which\r\nChaucer also undertook. No more than twenty-three of the 120\r\nstories are told in the work as it comes down to us; that is, only\r\ntwenty-three of the thirty pilgrims tell the first of the two stories\r\non the road to Canterbury; while of the stories on the return\r\njourney we have not one, and nothing is said about the doings\r\nof the pilgrims at Canterbury \u2014 which would, if treated like the\r\nscene at the Tabard, have given us a still livelier \u201cpicture of the\r\nperiod.\u201d But the plan was too large; and although the poet had\r\nsome reserves, in stories which he had already composed in an\r\nindependent form, death cut short his labour ere he could even\r\ncomplete the arrangement and connection of more than a very\r\nfew of the Tales. Incomplete as it is, however, the magnum\r\nopus of Chaucer was in his own time received with immense\r\nfavour; manuscript copies are numerous even now \u2014 no slight\r\nproof of its popularity; and when the invention of printing was\r\nintroduced into England by William Caxton, The Canterbury\r\nTales issued from his press in the year after the first English-\r\nprinted book, \u201cThe Game of the Chesse,\u201d had been struck off.\r\nInnumerable editions have since been published; and it may\r\nfairly be affirmed, that few books have been so much in favour\r\nwith the reading public of every generation as this book, which\r\nthe lapse of every generation has been rendering more\r\nunreadable.\r\n\r\nApart from \u201cThe Romaunt of the Rose,\u201d no really important\r\npoetical work of Chaucer\u2019s is omitted from or unrepresented in\r\nthe present edition. Of \u201cThe Legend of Good Women,\u201d the\r\nPrologue only is given \u2014 but it is the most genuinely Chaucerian\r\npart of the poem.  Of \u201cThe Court of Love,\u201d three-fourths are\r\nhere presented; of \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls,\u201d \u201cThe Cuckoo and\r\nthe Nightingale,\u201d \u201cThe Flower and the Leaf,\u201d all; of \u201cChaucer\u2019s\r\nDream,\u201d one-fourth; of \u201cThe House of Fame,\u201d two-thirds; and\r\nof the minor poems such a selection as may give an idea of\r\nChaucer\u2019s power in the \u201coccasional\u201d department of verse.\r\nNecessarily, no space whatever could be given to Chaucer\u2019s\r\nprose works \u2014 his translation of Boethius\u2019 Treatise on the\r\nConsolation of Philosophy; his Treatise on the Astrolabe,\r\nwritten for the use of his son Lewis; and his \u201cTestament of\r\nLove,\u201d composed in his later years, and reflecting the troubles\r\nthat then beset the poet. If, after studying in a simplified form\r\nthe salient works of England\u2019s first great bard, the reader is\r\ntempted to regret that he was not introduced to a wider\r\nacquaintance with the author, the purpose of the Editor will\r\nhave been more than attained.\r\n\r\nThe plan of the volume does not demand an elaborate\r\nexamination into the state of our language when Chaucer wrote,\r\nor the nice questions of grammatical and metrical structure\r\nwhich conspire with the obsolete orthography to make his\r\npoems a sealed book for the masses. The most important\r\nelement in the proper reading of Chaucer\u2019s verses \u2014 whether\r\nwritten in the decasyllabic or heroic metre, which he introduced\r\ninto our literature, or in the octosyllabic measure used with such\r\nanimated effect in \u201cThe House of Fame,\u201d \u201cChaucer\u2019s Dream,\u201d\r\n&c. \u2014 is the sounding of the terminal \u201ce\u201d where it is now silent.\r\nThat letter is still valid in French poetry; and Chaucer\u2019s lines can\r\nbe scanned only by reading them as we would read Racine\u2019s or\r\nMoli\u00e8re\u2019s. The terminal \u201ce\u201d played an important part in\r\ngrammar; in many cases it was the sign of the infinitive \u2014 the\r\n\u201cn\u201d being dropped from the end; at other times it pointed the\r\ndistinction between singular and plural, between adjective and\r\nadverb. The pages that follow, however, being prepared from\r\nthe modern English point of view, necessarily no account is\r\ntaken of those distinctions; and the now silent \u201ce\u201d has been\r\nretained in the text of Chaucer only when required by the\r\nmodern spelling, or by the exigencies of metre.\r\n\r\nBefore a word beginning with a vowel, or with the letter \u201ch,\u201d\r\nthe final \u201ce\u201d was almost without exception mute; and in such\r\ncases, in the plural forms and infinitives of verbs, the terminal\r\n\u201cn\u201d is generally retained for the sake of euphony. No reader\r\nwho is acquainted with the French language will find it hard to\r\nfall into Chaucer\u2019s accentuation; while, for such as are not, a\r\nsimple perusal of the text according to the rules of modern\r\nverse, should remove every difficulty.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Life of Geoffrey Chaucer\r\n\r\n\r\n1. \u201cEdmund Spenser, a native of London, was born with a Muse\r\nof such power, that he was superior to all English poets of\r\npreceding ages, not excepting his fellow-citizen Chaucer.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n2. See introduction to \u201cThe Legend of Good Women\u201d.\r\n\r\n\r\n3. Called in the editions before 1597 \u201cThe Dream of Chaucer\u201d.\r\nThe poem, which is not included in the present edition, does\r\nindeed, like many of Chaucer\u2019s smaller works, tell the story of a\r\ndream, in which a knight, representing John of Gaunt, is found\r\nby the poet mourning the loss of his lady; but the true \u201cDream\r\nof Chaucer,\u201d in which he celebrates the marriage of his patron,\r\nwas published for the first time by Speght in 1597. John of\r\nGaunt, in the end of 1371, married his second wife, Constance,\r\ndaughter to Pedro the Cruel of Spain; so that \u201cThe Book of the\r\nDuchess\u201d must have been written between 1369 and 1371.\r\n\r\n\r\n4. Where he bids his \u201clittle book\u201d\r\n\u201cSubject be unto all poesy,\r\nAnd kiss the steps, where as thou seest space,\r\nOf Virgil, Ovid, Homer, Lucan, Stace.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n5. See note 1 to The Tale in The Clerk\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n\r\n6. See note 1 to The Man of Law\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n\r\n7. \u201cWritten,\u201d says Mr Wright, \u201cin the sixteenth year of the reign\r\nof Richard II. (1392-1393);\u201d a powerful confirmation of the\r\nopinion that this poem was really produced in Chaucer\u2019s mature\r\nage. See the introductory notes to it and to the Legend of Good\r\nWomen.\r\n\r\n\r\n8. The old biographers of Chaucer, founding on what they took\r\nto be autobiographic allusions in \u201cThe Testament of Love,\u201d\r\nassign to him between 1354 and 1389 a very different history\r\nfrom that here given on the strength of authentic records\r\nexplored and quoted by Sir H. Nicolas. Chaucer is made to\r\nespouse the cause of John of Northampton, the Wycliffite Lord\r\nMayor of London, whose re-election in 1384 was so\r\nvehemently opposed by the clergy, and who was imprisoned in\r\nthe sequel of the grave disorders that arose. The poet, it is said,\r\nfled to the Continent, taking with him a large sum of money,\r\nwhich he spent in supporting companions in exile; then,\r\nreturning by stealth to England in quest of funds, he was\r\ndetected and sent to the Tower, where he languished for three\r\nyears, being released only on the humiliating condition of\r\ninforming against his associates in the plot. The public records\r\nshow, however, that, all the time of his alleged exile and\r\ncaptivity, he was quietly living in London, regularly drawing his\r\npensions in person, sitting in Parliament, and discharging his\r\nduties in the Customs until his dismissal in 1386. It need not be\r\nsaid, further, that although Chaucer freely handled the errors,\r\nthe ignorance, and vices of the clergy, he did so rather as a man\r\nof sense and of conscience, than as a Wycliffite \u2014 and there is\r\nno evidence that he espoused the opinions of the zealous\r\nReformer, far less played the part of an extreme and self-\r\nregardless partisan of his old friend and college-companion.\r\n\r\n\r\n9. \u201cThe Commissioners appear to have commenced their\r\nlabours with examining the accounts of the officers employed in\r\nthe collection of the revenue; and the sequel affords a strong\r\npresumption that the royal administration [under Lancaster and\r\nhis friends] had been foully calumniated. We hear not of any\r\nfrauds discovered, or of defaulters punished, or of grievances\r\nredressed.\u201d Such is the testimony of Lingard (chap. iv., 1386),\r\nall the more valuable for his aversion from the Wycliffite\r\nleanings of John of Gaunt. Chaucer\u2019s department in the London\r\nCustoms was in those days one of the most important and\r\nlucrative in the kingdom; and if mercenary abuse of his post\r\ncould have been proved, we may be sure that his and his\r\npatron\u2019s enemies would not have been content with simple\r\ndismissal, but would have heavily amerced or imprisoned him.\r\n\r\n\r\n10. The salary was L36, 10s. per annum; the salary of the Chief\r\nJudges was L40, of the Puisne Judges about L27. Probably the\r\nJudges \u2014 certainly the Clerk of the Works \u2014 had fees or\r\nperquisites besides the stated payment.\r\n\r\n\r\n11. Chaucer\u2019s patron had died earlier in 1399, during the exile\r\nof his son (then Duke of Hereford) in France. The Duchess\r\nConstance had died in 1394; and the Duke had made reparation\r\nto Katherine Swynford \u2014 who had already borne him four\r\nchildren \u2014 by marrying her in 1396, with the approval of\r\nRichard II., who legitimated the children, and made the eldest\r\nson of the poet\u2019s sister-in-law Earl of Somerset. From this long-\r\nillicit union sprang the house of Beaufort \u2014 that being the\r\nsurname of the Duke\u2019s children by Katherine, after the name of\r\nthe castle in Anjou (Belfort, or Beaufort) where they were born.\r\n\r\n\r\n12. Of Chaucer\u2019s two sons by Philippa Roet, his only wife, the\r\nyounger, Lewis, for whom he wrote the Treatise on the\r\nAstrolabe, died young.  The elder, Thomas, married Maud, the\r\nsecond daughter and co-heiress of Sir John Burghersh, brother\r\nof the Bishop of Lincoln, the Chancellor and Treasurer of\r\nEngland. By this marriage Thomas Chaucer acquired great\r\nestates in Oxfordshire and elsewhere; and he figured\r\nprominently in the second rank of courtiers for many years. He\r\nwas Chief Butler to Richard II.; under Henry IV. he was\r\nConstable of Wallingford Castle, Steward of the Honours of\r\nWallingford and St Valery, and of the Chiltern Hundreds; and\r\nthe queen of Henry IV. granted him the farm of several of her\r\nmanors, a grant subsequently confirmed to him for life by the\r\nKing, after the Queen\u2019s death. He sat in Parliament repeatedly\r\nfor Oxfordshire, was Speaker in 1414, and in the same year\r\nwent to France as commissioner to negotiate the marriage of\r\nHenry V. with the Princess Katherine. He held, before he died\r\nin 1434, various other posts of trust and distinction; but he left\r\nno heirs-male.  His only child, Alice Chaucer, married twice;\r\nfirst Sir John Philip; and afterwards the Duke of Suffolk \u2014\r\nattainted and beheaded in 1450.  She had three children by the\r\nDuke; and her eldest son married the Princess Elizabeth, sister\r\nof Edward IV. The eldest son of this marriage, created Earl of\r\nLincoln, was declared by Richard III heir-apparent to the\r\nthrone, in case the Prince of Wales should die without issue; but\r\nthe death of Lincoln himself, at the battle of Stoke in 1487,\r\ndestroyed all prospect that the poet\u2019s descendants might\r\nsucceed to the crown of England; and his family is now believed\r\nto be extinct.\r\n\r\n\r\n13. \u201cGeoffrey Chaucer, bard, and famous mother of poetry, is\r\nburied in this sacred ground.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n14. Railings.\r\n\r\n\r\n15 Translation of the epitaph: This tomb was built for Geoffrey\r\nChaucer, who in his time was the greatest poet of the English. If\r\nyou ask the year of his death, behold the words beneath, which\r\ntell you all. Death gave him rest from his toil, 25th of October\r\n1400.  N Brigham bore the cost of these words in the name of\r\nthe Muses. 1556.\r\n\r\n\r\n16. See the Prologue to Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Sir Thopas.\r\n\r\n\r\n17. See the \u201cGoodly Ballad of Chaucer,\u201d seventh stanza.\r\n\r\n\r\n18. See the opening of the Prologue to \u201cThe Legend of Good\r\nWomen,\u201d and the poet\u2019s account of his habits in \u201cThe House of\r\nFame\u201d.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE CANTERBURY TALES.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\n\r\nWHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swoot*,                       *sweet\r\nThe drought of March hath pierced to the root,\r\nAnd bathed every vein in such licour,\r\nOf which virtue engender\u2019d is the flower;\r\nWhen Zephyrus eke with his swoote breath\r\nInspired hath in every holt* and heath                    *grove, forest\r\nThe tender croppes* and the younge sun                    *twigs, boughs\r\nHath in the Ram <1> his halfe course y-run,\r\nAnd smalle fowles make melody,\r\nThat sleepen all the night with open eye,\r\n(So pricketh them nature in their corages*);       *hearts, inclinations\r\nThen longe folk to go on pilgrimages,\r\nAnd palmers <2> for to seeke strange strands,\r\nTo *ferne hallows couth*  in sundry lands;     *distant saints known*<3>\r\nAnd specially, from every shire\u2019s end\r\nOf Engleland, to Canterbury they wend,\r\nThe holy blissful Martyr for to seek,\r\nThat them hath holpen*, when that they were sick.                *helped\r\n\r\nBefell that, in that season on a day,\r\nIn Southwark at the Tabard <4> as I lay,\r\nReady to wenden on my pilgrimage\r\nTo Canterbury with devout corage,\r\nAt night was come into that hostelry\r\nWell nine and twenty in a company\r\nOf sundry folk, *by aventure y-fall            *who had by chance fallen\r\nIn fellowship*, and pilgrims were they all,           into company.* <5>\r\nThat toward Canterbury woulde ride.\r\nThe chamber, and the stables were wide,\r\nAnd *well we weren eased at the best.*            *we were well provided\r\nAnd shortly, when the sunne was to rest,                  with the best*\r\nSo had I spoken with them every one,\r\nThat I was of their fellowship anon,\r\nAnd made forword* early for to rise,                            *promise\r\nTo take our way there as I you devise*.                *describe, relate\r\n\r\nBut natheless, while I have time and space,\r\nEre that I farther in this tale pace,\r\nMe thinketh it accordant to reason,\r\nTo tell you alle the condition\r\nOf each of them, so as it seemed me,\r\nAnd which they weren, and of what degree;\r\nAnd eke in what array that they were in:\r\nAnd at a Knight then will I first begin.\r\n\r\nA KNIGHT there was, and that a worthy man,\r\nThat from the time that he first began\r\nTo riden out, he loved chivalry,\r\nTruth and honour, freedom and courtesy.\r\nFull worthy was he in his Lorde\u2019s war,\r\nAnd thereto had he ridden, no man farre*,                       *farther\r\nAs well in Christendom as in Heatheness,\r\nAnd ever honour\u2019d for his worthiness\r\nAt Alisandre <6> he was when it was won.\r\nFull often time he had the board begun\r\nAbove alle nations in Prusse.<7>\r\nIn Lettowe had he reysed,* and in Russe,                      *journeyed\r\nNo Christian man so oft of his degree.\r\nIn Grenade at the siege eke had he be\r\nOf Algesir, and ridden in Belmarie. <8>\r\nAt Leyes was he, and at Satalie,\r\nWhen they were won; and in the Greate Sea\r\nAt many a noble army had he be.\r\nAt mortal battles had he been fifteen,\r\nAnd foughten for our faith at Tramissene.\r\nIn listes thries, and aye slain his foe.\r\nThis ilke* worthy knight had been also                         *same <9>\r\nSome time with the lord of Palatie,\r\nAgainst another heathen in Turkie:\r\nAnd evermore *he had a sovereign price*.            *He was held in very\r\nAnd though that he was worthy he was wise,                 high esteem.*\r\nAnd of his port as meek as is a maid.\r\nHe never yet no villainy ne said\r\nIn all his life, unto no manner wight.\r\nHe was a very perfect gentle knight.\r\nBut for to telle you of his array,\r\nHis horse was good, but yet he was not gay.\r\nOf fustian he weared a gipon*,                            *short doublet\r\nAlle *besmotter\u2019d with his habergeon,*     *soiled by his coat of mail.*\r\nFor he was late y-come from his voyage,\r\nAnd wente for to do his pilgrimage.\r\n\r\nWith him there was his son, a younge SQUIRE,\r\nA lover, and a lusty bacheler,\r\nWith lockes crulle* as they were laid in press.                  *curled\r\nOf twenty year of age he was I guess.\r\nOf his stature he was of even length,\r\nAnd *wonderly deliver*, and great of strength.      *wonderfully nimble*\r\nAnd he had been some time in chevachie*,                  *cavalry raids\r\nIn Flanders, in Artois, and Picardie,\r\nAnd borne him well, *as of so little space*,      *in such a short time*\r\nIn hope to standen in his lady\u2019s grace.\r\nEmbroider\u2019d was he, as it were a mead\r\nAll full of freshe flowers, white and red.\r\nSinging he was, or fluting all the day;\r\nHe was as fresh as is the month of May.\r\nShort was his gown, with sleeves long and wide.\r\nWell could he sit on horse, and faire ride.\r\nHe coulde songes make, and well indite,\r\nJoust, and eke dance, and well pourtray and write.\r\nSo hot he loved, that by nightertale*                        *night-time\r\nHe slept no more than doth the nightingale.\r\nCourteous he was, lowly, and serviceable,\r\nAnd carv\u2019d before his father at the table.<10>\r\n\r\nA YEOMAN had he, and servants no mo\u2019\r\nAt that time, for *him list ride so*         *it pleased him so to ride*\r\nAnd he was clad in coat and hood of green.\r\nA sheaf of peacock arrows<11> bright and keen\r\nUnder his belt he bare full thriftily.\r\nWell could he dress his tackle yeomanly:\r\nHis arrows drooped not with feathers low;\r\nAnd in his hand he bare a mighty bow.\r\nA nut-head <12> had he, with a brown visiage:\r\nOf wood-craft coud* he well all the usage:                         *knew\r\nUpon his arm he bare a gay bracer*,                        *small shield\r\nAnd by his side a sword and a buckler,\r\nAnd on that other side a gay daggere,\r\nHarnessed well, and sharp as point of spear:\r\nA Christopher on his breast of silver sheen.\r\nAn horn he bare, the baldric was of green:\r\nA forester was he soothly* as I guess.                        *certainly\r\n\r\nThere was also a Nun, a PRIORESS,\r\nThat of her smiling was full simple and coy;\r\nHer greatest oathe was but by Saint Loy;\r\nAnd she was cleped*  Madame Eglentine.                           *called\r\nFull well she sang the service divine,\r\nEntuned in her nose full seemly;\r\nAnd French she spake full fair and fetisly*                    *properly\r\nAfter the school of Stratford atte Bow,\r\nFor French of Paris was to her unknow.\r\nAt meate was she well y-taught withal;\r\nShe let no morsel from her lippes fall,\r\nNor wet her fingers in her sauce deep.\r\nWell could she carry a morsel, and well keep,\r\nThat no droppe ne fell upon her breast.\r\nIn courtesy was set full much her lest*.                       *pleasure\r\nHer over-lippe wiped she so clean,\r\nThat in her cup there was no farthing* seen                       *speck\r\nOf grease, when she drunken had her draught;\r\nFull seemely after her meat she raught*:           *reached out her hand\r\nAnd *sickerly she was of great disport*,     *surely she was of a lively\r\nAnd full pleasant, and amiable of port,                     disposition*\r\nAnd *pained her to counterfeite cheer              *took pains to assume\r\nOf court,* and be estately of mannere,            a courtly disposition*\r\nAnd to be holden digne* of reverence.                            *worthy\r\nBut for to speaken of her conscience,\r\nShe was so charitable and so pitous,*                      *full of pity\r\nShe woulde weep if that she saw a mouse\r\nCaught in a trap, if it were dead or bled.\r\nOf smalle houndes had she, that she fed\r\nWith roasted flesh, and milk, and *wastel bread.*   *finest white bread*\r\nBut sore she wept if one of them were dead,\r\nOr if men smote it with a yarde* smart:                           *staff\r\nAnd all was conscience and tender heart.\r\nFull seemly her wimple y-pinched was;\r\nHer nose tretis;* her eyen gray as glass;<13>               *well-formed\r\nHer mouth full small, and thereto soft and red;\r\nBut sickerly she had a fair forehead.\r\nIt was almost a spanne broad I trow;\r\nFor *hardily she was not undergrow*.       *certainly she was not small*\r\nFull fetis* was her cloak, as I was ware.                          *neat\r\nOf small coral about her arm she bare\r\nA pair of beades, gauded all with green;\r\nAnd thereon hung a brooch of gold full sheen,\r\nOn which was first y-written a crown\u2019d A,\r\nAnd after, *Amor vincit omnia.*                      *love conquers all*\r\nAnother Nun also with her had she,\r\n[That was her chapelleine, and PRIESTES three.]\r\n\r\nA MONK there was, a fair *for the mast\u2019ry*,       *above all others*<14>\r\nAn out-rider, that loved venery*;                               *hunting\r\nA manly man, to be an abbot able.\r\nFull many a dainty horse had he in stable:\r\nAnd when he rode, men might his bridle hear\r\nJingeling <15> in a whistling wind as clear,\r\nAnd eke as loud, as doth the chapel bell,\r\nThere as this lord was keeper of the cell.\r\nThe rule of Saint Maur and of Saint Benet, <16>\r\nBecause that it was old and somedeal strait\r\nThis ilke* monk let olde thinges pace,                             *same\r\nAnd held after the newe world the trace.\r\nHe *gave not of the text a pulled hen,*                *he cared nothing\r\nThat saith, that hunters be not holy men:                  for the text*\r\nNe that a monk, when he is cloisterless;\r\nIs like to a fish that is waterless;\r\nThis is to say, a monk out of his cloister.\r\nThis ilke text held he not worth an oyster;\r\nAnd I say his opinion was good.\r\nWhy should he study, and make himselfe wood*                   *mad <17>\r\nUpon a book in cloister always pore,\r\nOr swinken* with his handes, and labour,                           *toil\r\nAs Austin bid? how shall the world be served?\r\nLet Austin have his swink to him reserved.\r\nTherefore he was a prickasour* aright:                       *hard rider\r\nGreyhounds he had as swift as fowl of flight;\r\nOf pricking* and of hunting for the hare                         *riding\r\nWas all his lust,* for no cost would he spare.                 *pleasure\r\n I saw his sleeves *purfil\u2019d at the hand       *worked at the end with a\r\nWith gris,* and that the finest of the land.          fur called \u201cgris\u201d*\r\nAnd for to fasten his hood under his chin,\r\nHe had of gold y-wrought a curious pin;\r\nA love-knot in the greater end there was.\r\nHis head was bald, and shone as any glass,\r\nAnd eke his face, as it had been anoint;\r\nHe was a lord full fat and in good point;\r\nHis eyen steep,* and rolling in his head,                      *deep-set\r\nThat steamed as a furnace of a lead.\r\nHis bootes supple, his horse in great estate,\r\nNow certainly he was a fair prelate;\r\nHe was not pale as a forpined* ghost;                            *wasted\r\nA fat swan lov\u2019d he best of any roast.\r\nHis palfrey was as brown as is a berry.\r\n\r\nA FRIAR there was, a wanton and a merry,\r\nA limitour <18>, a full solemne man.\r\nIn all the orders four is none that can*                          *knows\r\nSo much of dalliance and fair language.\r\nHe had y-made full many a marriage\r\nOf younge women, at his owen cost.\r\nUnto his order he was a noble post;\r\nFull well belov\u2019d, and familiar was he\r\nWith franklins *over all* in his country,                   *everywhere*\r\nAnd eke with worthy women of the town:\r\nFor he had power of confession,\r\nAs said himselfe, more than a curate,\r\nFor of his order he was licentiate.\r\nFull sweetely heard he confession,\r\nAnd pleasant was his absolution.\r\nHe was an easy man to give penance,\r\n*There as he wist to have a good pittance:*      *where he know he would\r\nFor unto a poor order for to give                      get good payment*\r\nIs signe that a man is well y-shrive.\r\nFor if he gave, he *durste make avant*,                 *dared to boast*\r\nHe wiste* that the man was repentant.                              *knew\r\nFor many a man so hard is of his heart,\r\nHe may not weep although him sore smart.\r\nTherefore instead of weeping and prayeres,\r\nMen must give silver to the poore freres.\r\nHis tippet was aye farsed* full of knives                       *stuffed\r\nAnd pinnes, for to give to faire wives;\r\nAnd certainly he had a merry note:\r\nWell could he sing and playen *on a rote*;                 *from memory*\r\nOf yeddings* he bare utterly the prize.                           *songs\r\nHis neck was white as is the fleur-de-lis.\r\nThereto he strong was as a champion,\r\nAnd knew well the taverns in every town.\r\nAnd every hosteler and gay tapstere,\r\nBetter than a lazar* or a beggere,                                *leper\r\nFor unto such a worthy man as he\r\nAccordeth not, as by his faculty,\r\nTo have with such lazars acquaintance.\r\nIt is not honest, it may not advance,\r\nAs for to deale with no such pouraille*,                  *offal, refuse\r\nBut all with rich, and sellers of vitaille*.                   *victuals\r\nAnd *ov\u2019r all there as* profit should arise,      *in every place where&\r\nCourteous he was, and lowly of service;\r\nThere n\u2019as no man nowhere so virtuous.\r\nHe was the beste beggar in all his house:\r\nAnd gave a certain farme for the grant, <19>\r\nNone of his bretheren came in his haunt.\r\nFor though a widow hadde but one shoe,\r\nSo pleasant was his In Principio,<20>\r\nYet would he have a farthing ere he went;\r\nHis purchase was well better than his rent.\r\nAnd rage he could and play as any whelp,\r\nIn lovedays <21>; there could he muchel* help.                  *greatly\r\nFor there was he not like a cloisterer,\r\nWith threadbare cope as is a poor scholer;\r\nBut he was like a master or a pope.\r\nOf double worsted was his semicope*,                        *short cloak\r\nThat rounded was as a bell out of press.\r\nSomewhat he lisped for his wantonness,\r\nTo make his English sweet upon his tongue;\r\nAnd in his harping, when that he had sung,\r\nHis eyen* twinkled in his head aright,                             *eyes\r\nAs do the starres in a frosty night.\r\nThis worthy limitour <18> was call\u2019d Huberd.\r\n\r\nA MERCHANT was there with a forked beard,\r\nIn motley, and high on his horse he sat,\r\nUpon his head a Flandrish beaver hat.\r\nHis bootes clasped fair and fetisly*.                            *neatly\r\nHis reasons aye spake he full solemnly,\r\nSounding alway th\u2019 increase of his winning.\r\nHe would the sea were kept <22> for any thing\r\nBetwixte Middleburg and Orewell<23>\r\nWell could he in exchange shieldes* sell              *crown coins <24>\r\nThis worthy man full well his wit beset*;                      *employed\r\nThere wiste* no wight** that he was in debt,                 *knew **man\r\nSo *estately was he of governance*                  *so well he managed*\r\nWith his bargains, and with his chevisance*.          *business contract\r\nFor sooth he was a worthy man withal,\r\nBut sooth to say, I n\u2019ot* how men him call.                    *know not\r\n\r\nA CLERK there was of Oxenford* also,                             *Oxford\r\nThat unto logic hadde long y-go*.                       *devoted himself\r\nAs leane was his horse as is a rake,\r\nAnd he was not right fat, I undertake;\r\nBut looked hollow*, and thereto soberly**.               *thin; **poorly\r\nFull threadbare was his *overest courtepy*,      *uppermost short cloak*\r\nFor he had gotten him yet no benefice,\r\nNe was not worldly, to have an office.\r\nFor him was lever* have at his bed\u2019s head                        *rather\r\nTwenty bookes, clothed in black or red,\r\nOf Aristotle, and his philosophy,\r\nThan robes rich, or fiddle, or psalt\u2019ry.\r\nBut all be that he was a philosopher,\r\nYet hadde he but little gold in coffer,\r\nBut all that he might of his friendes hent*,                     *obtain\r\nOn bookes and on learning he it spent,\r\nAnd busily gan for the soules pray\r\nOf them that gave him <25> wherewith to scholay*                  *study\r\nOf study took he moste care and heed.\r\nNot one word spake he more than was need;\r\nAnd that was said in form and reverence,\r\nAnd short and quick, and full of high sentence.\r\nSounding in moral virtue was his speech,\r\nAnd gladly would he learn, and gladly teach.\r\n\r\nA SERGEANT OF THE LAW, wary and wise,\r\nThat often had y-been at the Parvis, <26>\r\nThere was also, full rich of excellence.\r\nDiscreet he was, and of great reverence:\r\nHe seemed such, his wordes were so wise,\r\nJustice he was full often in assize,\r\nBy patent, and by plein* commission;                               *full\r\nFor his science, and for his high renown,\r\nOf fees and robes had he many one.\r\nSo great a purchaser was nowhere none.\r\nAll was fee simple to him, in effect\r\nHis purchasing might not be in suspect*                       *suspicion\r\nNowhere so busy a man as he there was\r\nAnd yet he seemed busier than he was\r\nIn termes had he case\u2019 and doomes* all                       *judgements\r\nThat from the time of King Will. were fall.\r\nThereto he could indite, and make a thing\r\nThere coulde no wight *pinch at* his writing.          *find fault with*\r\nAnd every statute coud* he plain by rote                           *knew\r\nHe rode but homely in a medley* coat,                     *multicoloured\r\nGirt with a seint* of silk, with barres small;                     *sash\r\nOf his array tell I no longer tale.\r\n\r\nA FRANKELIN* was in this company;                        *Rich landowner\r\nWhite was his beard, as is the daisy.\r\nOf his complexion he was sanguine.\r\nWell lov\u2019d he in the morn a sop in wine.\r\nTo liven in delight was ever his won*,                             *wont\r\nFor he was Epicurus\u2019 owen son,\r\nThat held opinion, that plein* delight                             *full\r\nWas verily felicity perfite.\r\nAn householder, and that a great, was he;\r\nSaint Julian<27> he was in his country.\r\nHis bread, his ale, was alway *after one*;              *pressed on one*\r\nA better envined* man was nowhere none;                *stored with wine\r\nWithoute bake-meat never was his house,\r\nOf fish and flesh, and that so plenteous,\r\nIt snowed in his house of meat and drink,\r\nOf alle dainties that men coulde think.\r\nAfter the sundry seasons of the year,\r\nSo changed he his meat and his soupere.\r\nFull many a fat partridge had he in mew*,                     *cage <28>\r\nAnd many a bream, and many a luce* in stew**<29>       *pike **fish-pond\r\nWoe was his cook, *but if* his sauce were                       *unless*\r\nPoignant and sharp, and ready all his gear.\r\nHis table dormant* in his hall alway                              *fixed\r\nStood ready cover\u2019d all the longe day.\r\nAt sessions there was he lord and sire.\r\nFull often time he was *knight of the shire*      *Member of Parliament*\r\nAn anlace*, and a gipciere** all of silk,                *dagger **purse\r\nHung at his girdle, white as morning milk.\r\nA sheriff had he been, and a countour<30>\r\nWas nowhere such a worthy vavasour<31>.\r\n\r\n An HABERDASHER, and a CARPENTER,\r\nA WEBBE*, a DYER, and a TAPISER**,              *weaver **tapestry-maker\r\nWere with us eke, cloth\u2019d in one livery,\r\nOf a solemn and great fraternity.\r\nFull fresh and new their gear y-picked* was.                     *spruce\r\nTheir knives were y-chaped* not with brass,                     *mounted\r\nBut all with silver wrought full clean and well,\r\nTheir girdles and their pouches *every deal*.            *in every part*\r\nWell seemed each of them a fair burgess,\r\nTo sitten in a guild-hall, on the dais. <32>\r\nEvereach, for the wisdom that he can*,                             *knew\r\nWas shapely* for to be an alderman.                              *fitted\r\nFor chattels hadde they enough and rent,\r\nAnd eke their wives would it well assent:\r\nAnd elles certain they had been to blame.\r\nIt is full fair to be y-clep\u2019d madame,\r\nAnd for to go to vigils all before,\r\nAnd have a mantle royally y-bore.<33>\r\n\r\nA COOK they hadde with them for the nones*,                    *occasion\r\nTo boil the chickens and the marrow bones,\r\nAnd powder merchant tart and galingale.\r\nWell could he know a draught of London ale.\r\nHe could roast, and stew, and broil, and fry,\r\nMake mortrewes, and well bake a pie.\r\nBut great harm was it, as it thoughte me,\r\nThat, on his shin a mormal* hadde he.                             *ulcer\r\nFor blanc manger, that made he with the best <34>\r\n\r\nA SHIPMAN was there, *wonned far by West*:                *who dwelt far\r\nFor ought I wot, be was of Dartemouth.                      to the West*\r\nHe rode upon a rouncy*, as he couth,                               *hack\r\nAll in a gown of falding* to the knee.                     *coarse cloth\r\nA dagger hanging by a lace had he\r\nAbout his neck under his arm adown;\r\nThe hot summer had made his hue all brown;\r\nAnd certainly he was a good fellaw.\r\nFull many a draught of wine he had y-draw\r\nFrom Bourdeaux-ward, while that the chapmen sleep;\r\nOf nice conscience took he no keep.\r\nIf that he fought, and had the higher hand,\r\n*By water he sent them home to every land.*              *he drowned his\r\nBut of his craft to reckon well his tides,                    prisoners*\r\nHis streames and his strandes him besides,\r\nHis herberow*, his moon, and lodemanage**,                   *harbourage\r\nThere was none such, from Hull unto Carthage              **pilotage<35>\r\nHardy he was, and wise, I undertake:\r\nWith many a tempest had his beard been shake.\r\nHe knew well all the havens, as they were,\r\nFrom Scotland to the Cape of Finisterre,\r\nAnd every creek in Bretagne and in Spain:\r\nHis barge y-cleped was the Magdelain.\r\n\r\nWith us there was a DOCTOR OF PHYSIC;\r\nIn all this worlde was there none him like\r\nTo speak of physic, and of surgery:\r\nFor he was grounded in astronomy.\r\nHe kept his patient a full great deal\r\nIn houres by his magic natural.\r\nWell could he fortune* the ascendent                     *make fortunate\r\nOf his images for his patient,.\r\nHe knew the cause of every malady,\r\nWere it of cold, or hot, or moist, or dry,\r\nAnd where engender\u2019d, and of what humour.\r\nHe was a very  perfect practisour\r\nThe cause y-know,* and of his harm the root,                      *known\r\nAnon he gave to the sick man his boot*                           *remedy\r\nFull ready had he his apothecaries,\r\nTo send his drugges and his lectuaries\r\nFor each of them made other for to win\r\nTheir friendship was not newe to begin\r\nWell knew he the old Esculapius,\r\nAnd Dioscorides, and eke Rufus;\r\nOld Hippocras, Hali, and Gallien;\r\nSerapion, Rasis, and Avicen;\r\nAverrois, Damascene, and Constantin;\r\nBernard, and Gatisden, and Gilbertin. <36>\r\nOf his diet measurable was he,\r\nFor it was of no superfluity,\r\nBut of great nourishing, and digestible.\r\nHis study was but little on the Bible.\r\nIn sanguine* and in perse** he clad was all                  *red **blue\r\nLined with taffeta, and with sendall*.                        *fine silk\r\nAnd yet *he was but easy of dispense*:            *he spent very little*\r\nHe kept *that he won in the pestilence*.              *the money he made\r\nFor gold in physic is a cordial;                      during the plague*\r\nTherefore he loved gold in special.\r\n\r\nA good WIFE was there OF beside BATH,\r\nBut she was somedeal deaf, and that was scath*.            *damage; pity\r\nOf cloth-making she hadde such an haunt*,                         *skill\r\nShe passed them of Ypres, and of Gaunt. <37>\r\nIn all the parish wife was there none,\r\nThat to the off\u2019ring* before her should gon,       *the offering at mass\r\nAnd if there did, certain so wroth was she,\r\nThat she was out of alle charity\r\nHer coverchiefs* were full fine of ground                  *head-dresses\r\nI durste swear, they weighede ten pound <38>\r\nThat on the Sunday were upon her head.\r\nHer hosen weren of fine scarlet red,\r\nFull strait y-tied, and shoes full moist* and new            *fresh <39>\r\nBold was her face, and fair and red of hue.\r\nShe was a worthy woman all her live,\r\nHusbands at the church door had she had five,\r\nWithouten other company in youth;\r\nBut thereof needeth not to speak as nouth*.                         *now\r\nAnd thrice had she been at Jerusalem;\r\nShe hadde passed many a strange stream\r\nAt Rome she had been, and at Bologne,\r\nIn Galice at Saint James, <40> and at Cologne;\r\nShe coude* much of wand\u2019rng by the Way.                            *knew\r\nGat-toothed* was she, soothly for to say.              *Buck-toothed<41>\r\nUpon an ambler easily she sat,\r\nY-wimpled well, and on her head an hat\r\nAs broad as is a buckler or a targe.\r\nA foot-mantle about her hippes large,\r\nAnd on her feet a pair of spurres sharp.\r\nIn fellowship well could she laugh and carp*                 *jest, talk\r\nOf remedies of love she knew perchance\r\nFor of that art she coud* the olde dance.                          *knew\r\n\r\nA good man there was of religion,\r\nThat was a poore PARSON of a town:\r\nBut rich he was of holy thought and werk*.                         *work\r\nHe was also a learned man, a clerk,\r\nThat Christe\u2019s gospel truly woulde preach.\r\nHis parishens* devoutly would he teach.                    *parishioners\r\nBenign he was, and wonder diligent,\r\nAnd in adversity full patient:\r\nAnd such he was y-proved *often sithes*.                    *oftentimes*\r\nFull loth were him to curse for his tithes,\r\nBut rather would he given out of doubt,\r\nUnto his poore parishens about,\r\nOf his off\u2019ring, and eke of his substance.\r\n*He could in little thing have suffisance*.       *he was satisfied with\r\nWide was his parish, and houses far asunder,                very little*\r\nBut he ne left not, for no rain nor thunder,\r\nIn sickness and in mischief to visit\r\nThe farthest in his parish, *much and lit*,            *great and small*\r\nUpon his feet, and in his hand a staff.\r\nThis noble ensample to his sheep he gaf*,                          *gave\r\nThat first he wrought, and afterward he taught.\r\nOut of the gospel he the wordes caught,\r\nAnd this figure he added yet thereto,\r\nThat if gold ruste, what should iron do?\r\nFor if a priest be foul, on whom we trust,\r\nNo wonder is a lewed* man to rust:                            *unlearned\r\nAnd shame it is, if that a priest take keep,\r\nTo see a shitten shepherd and clean sheep:\r\nWell ought a priest ensample for to give,\r\nBy his own cleanness, how his sheep should live.\r\nHe sette not his benefice to hire,\r\nAnd left his sheep eucumber\u2019d in the mire,\r\nAnd ran unto London, unto Saint Paul\u2019s,\r\nTo seeke him a chantery<42> for souls,\r\nOr with a brotherhood to be withold:*                          *detained\r\nBut dwelt at home, and kepte well his fold,\r\nSo that the wolf ne made it not miscarry.\r\nHe was a shepherd, and no mercenary.\r\nAnd though he holy were, and virtuous,\r\nHe was to sinful men not dispitous*                              *severe\r\nNor of his speeche dangerous nor dign*                       *disdainful\r\nBut in his teaching discreet and benign.\r\nTo drawen folk to heaven, with fairness,\r\nBy good ensample, was his business:\r\n*But it were* any person obstinate,                     *but if it were*\r\nWhat so he were of high or low estate,\r\nHim would he snibbe* sharply for the nones**.  *reprove **nonce,occasion\r\nA better priest I trow that nowhere none is.\r\nHe waited after no pomp nor reverence,\r\nNor maked him a *spiced conscience*,             *artificial conscience*\r\nBut Christe\u2019s lore, and his apostles\u2019 twelve,\r\nHe taught, and first he follow\u2019d it himselve.\r\n\r\nWith him there was a PLOUGHMAN, was his brother,\r\nThat had y-laid of dung full many a fother*.                        *ton\r\nA true swinker* and a good was he,                          *hard worker\r\nLiving in peace and perfect charity.\r\nGod loved he beste with all his heart\r\nAt alle times, were it gain or smart*,                       *pain, loss\r\nAnd then his neighebour right as himselve.\r\nHe woulde thresh, and thereto dike*, and delve,             *dig ditches\r\nFor Christe\u2019s sake, for every poore wight,\r\nWithouten hire, if it lay in his might.\r\nHis tithes payed he full fair and well,\r\nBoth of his *proper swink*, and his chattel**   *his own labour* **goods\r\nIn a tabard* he rode upon a mare.                     *sleeveless jerkin\r\n\r\nThere was also a Reeve, and a Millere,\r\nA Sompnour, and a Pardoner also,\r\nA Manciple, and myself, there were no mo\u2019.\r\n\r\nThe MILLER was a stout carle for the nones,\r\nFull big he was of brawn, and eke of bones;\r\nThat proved well, for *ov\u2019r all where* he came,            *wheresoever*\r\nAt wrestling he would bear away the ram.<43>\r\nHe was short-shouldered, broad, a thicke gnarr*,          *stump of wood\r\nThere was no door, that he n\u2019old* heave off bar,              *could not\r\nOr break it at a running with his head.\r\nHis beard as any sow or fox was red,\r\nAnd thereto broad, as though it were a spade.\r\nUpon the cop* right of his nose he had                        *head <44>\r\nA wart, and thereon stood a tuft of hairs\r\nRed as the bristles of a sowe\u2019s ears.\r\nHis nose-thirles* blacke were and wide.                   *nostrils <45>\r\nA sword and buckler bare he by his side.\r\nHis mouth as wide was as a furnace.\r\nHe was a jangler, and a goliardais*,                       *buffoon <46>\r\nAnd that was most of sin and harlotries.\r\nWell could he steale corn, and tolle thrice\r\nAnd yet he had a thumb of gold, pardie.<47>\r\nA white coat and a blue hood weared he\r\nA baggepipe well could he blow and soun\u2019,\r\nAnd therewithal he brought us out of town.\r\n\r\nA gentle MANCIPLE <48> was there of a temple,\r\nOf which achatours* mighte take ensample                         *buyers\r\nFor to be wise in buying of vitaille*.                         *victuals\r\nFor whether that he paid, or took *by taile*,                 *on credit\r\nAlgate* he waited so in his achate**,                 *always **purchase\r\nThat he was aye before in good estate.\r\nNow is not that of God a full fair grace\r\nThat such a lewed* mannes wit shall pace**          *unlearned **surpass\r\nThe wisdom of an heap of learned men?\r\nOf masters had he more than thries ten,\r\nThat were of law expert and curious:\r\nOf which there was a dozen in that house,\r\nWorthy to be stewards of rent and land\r\nOf any lord that is in Engleland,\r\nTo make him live by his proper good,\r\nIn honour debtless, *but if he were wood*,          *unless he were mad*\r\nOr live as scarcely as him list desire;\r\nAnd able for to helpen all a shire\r\nIn any case that mighte fall or hap;\r\nAnd yet this Manciple *set their aller cap*         *outwitted them all*\r\n\r\nThe REEVE <49> was a slender choleric man\r\nHis beard was shav\u2019d as nigh as ever he can.\r\nHis hair was by his eares round y-shorn;\r\nHis top was docked like a priest beforn\r\nFull longe were his legges, and full lean\r\nY-like a staff, there was no calf y-seen\r\nWell could he keep a garner* and a bin*           *storeplaces for grain\r\nThere was no auditor could on him win\r\nWell wist he by the drought, and by the rain,\r\nThe yielding of his seed and of his grain\r\nHis lorde\u2019s sheep, his neat*, and his dairy                      *cattle\r\nHis swine, his horse, his store, and his poultry,\r\nWere wholly in this Reeve\u2019s governing,\r\nAnd by his cov\u2019nant gave he reckoning,\r\nSince that his lord was twenty year of age;\r\nThere could no man bring him in arrearage\r\nThere was no bailiff, herd, nor other hine*                     *servant\r\nThat he ne knew his *sleight and his covine*       *tricks and cheating*\r\nThey were adrad* of him, as of the death                       *in dread\r\nHis wonning* was full fair upon an heath                          *abode\r\nWith greene trees y-shadow\u2019d was his place.\r\nHe coulde better than his lord purchase\r\nFull rich he was y-stored privily\r\nHis lord well could he please subtilly,\r\nTo give and lend him of his owen good,\r\nAnd have a thank, and yet* a coat and hood.                        *also\r\nIn youth he learned had a good mistere*                           *trade\r\nHe was a well good wright, a carpentere\r\nThis Reeve sate upon a right good stot*,                          *steed\r\nThat was all pomely* gray, and highte** Scot.          *dappled **called\r\nA long surcoat of perse* upon he had,                          *sky-blue\r\nAnd by his side he bare a rusty blade.\r\nOf Norfolk was this Reeve, of which I tell,\r\nBeside a town men clepen* Baldeswell,                              *call\r\nTucked he was, as is a friar, about,\r\nAnd ever rode the *hinderest of the rout*.       *hindmost of the group*\r\n\r\nA SOMPNOUR* was there with us in that place,              *summoner <50>\r\nThat had a fire-red cherubinnes face,\r\nFor sausefleme* he was, with eyen narrow.                 *red or pimply\r\nAs hot he was and lecherous as a sparrow,\r\nWith scalled browes black, and pilled* beard:                    *scanty\r\nOf his visage children were sore afeard.\r\nThere n\u2019as quicksilver, litharge, nor brimstone,\r\nBoras, ceruse, nor oil of tartar none,\r\nNor ointement that woulde cleanse or bite,\r\nThat him might helpen of his whelkes* white,                   *pustules\r\nNor of the knobbes* sitting on his cheeks.                      *buttons\r\nWell lov\u2019d he garlic, onions, and leeks,\r\nAnd for to drink strong wine as red as blood.\r\nThen would he speak, and cry as he were wood;\r\nAnd when that he well drunken had the wine,\r\nThen would he speake no word but Latin.\r\nA fewe termes knew he, two or three,\r\nThat he had learned out of some decree;\r\nNo wonder is, he heard it all the day.\r\nAnd eke ye knowen well, how that a jay\r\nCan clepen* \u201cWat,\u201d as well as can the Pope.                        *call\r\nBut whoso would in other thing him grope*,                       *search\r\nThen had he spent all his philosophy,\r\nAye, Questio quid juris,<51> would he cry.\r\n\r\nHe was a gentle harlot* and a kind;                    *a low fellow<52>\r\nA better fellow should a man not find.\r\nHe woulde suffer, for a quart of wine,\r\nA good fellow to have his concubine\r\nA twelvemonth, and excuse him at the full.\r\nFull privily a *finch eke could he pull*.               *\u201cfleece\u201d a man*\r\nAnd if he found owhere* a good fellaw,                         *anywhere\r\nHe woulde teache him to have none awe\r\nIn such a case of the archdeacon\u2019s curse;\r\n*But if* a manne\u2019s soul were in his purse;                      *unless*\r\nFor in his purse he should y-punished be.\r\n\u201cPurse is the archedeacon\u2019s hell,\u201d said he.\r\nBut well I wot, he lied right indeed:\r\nOf cursing ought each guilty man to dread,\r\nFor curse will slay right as assoiling* saveth;               *absolving\r\nAnd also \u2019ware him of a significavit<53>.\r\nIn danger had he at his owen guise\r\nThe younge girles of the diocese, <54>\r\nAnd knew their counsel, and was of their rede*.                 *counsel\r\nA garland had he set upon his head,\r\nAs great as it were for an alestake*:      *The post of an alehouse sign\r\nA buckler had he made him of a cake.\r\n\r\nWith him there rode a gentle PARDONERE <55>\r\nOf Ronceval, his friend and his compere,\r\nThat straight was comen from the court of Rome.\r\nFull loud he sang, \u201cCome hither, love, to me\u201d\r\nThis Sompnour *bare to him a stiff burdoun*,             *sang the bass*\r\nWas never trump of half so great a soun\u2019.\r\nThis Pardoner had hair as yellow as wax,\r\nBut smooth it hung, as doth a strike* of flax:                    *strip\r\nBy ounces hung his lockes that he had,\r\nAnd therewith he his shoulders oversprad.\r\nFull thin it lay, by culpons* one and one,                *locks, shreds\r\nBut hood for jollity, he weared none,\r\nFor it was trussed up in his wallet.\r\nHim thought he rode all of the *newe get*,          *latest fashion*<56>\r\nDishevel, save his cap, he rode all bare.\r\nSuch glaring eyen had he, as an hare.\r\nA vernicle*  had he sew\u2019d upon his cap.            *image of Christ <57>\r\nHis wallet lay before him in his lap,\r\nBretful* of pardon come from Rome all hot.                      *brimful\r\nA voice he had as small as hath a goat.\r\nNo beard had he, nor ever one should have.\r\nAs smooth it was as it were new y-shave;\r\nI trow he were a gelding or a mare.\r\nBut of his craft, from Berwick unto Ware,\r\nNe was there such another pardonere.\r\nFor in his mail* he had a pillowbere**,           *bag <58> **pillowcase\r\nWhich, as he saide, was our Lady\u2019s veil:\r\nHe said, he had a gobbet* of the sail                             *piece\r\nThat Sainte Peter had, when that he went\r\nUpon the sea, till Jesus Christ him hent*.                 *took hold of\r\nHe had a cross of latoun* full of stones,                        *copper\r\nAnd in a glass he hadde pigge\u2019s bones.\r\nBut with these relics, whenne that he fond\r\nA poore parson dwelling upon lond,\r\nUpon a day he got him more money\r\nThan that the parson got in moneths tway;\r\nAnd thus with feigned flattering and japes*,                      *jests\r\nHe made the parson and the people his apes.\r\nBut truely to tellen at the last,\r\nHe was in church a noble ecclesiast.\r\nWell could he read a lesson or a story,\r\nBut alderbest* he sang an offertory:                        *best of all\r\nFor well he wiste, when that song was sung,\r\nHe muste preach, and well afile* his tongue,                     *polish\r\nTo winne silver, as he right well could:\r\nTherefore he sang full merrily and loud.\r\n\r\nNow have I told you shortly in a clause\r\nTh\u2019 estate, th\u2019 array, the number, and eke the cause\r\nWhy that assembled was this company\r\nIn Southwark at this gentle hostelry,\r\nThat highte the Tabard, fast by the Bell.<59>\r\nBut now is time to you for to tell\r\n*How that we baren us that ilke night*,    *what we did that same night*\r\nWhen we were in that hostelry alight.\r\nAnd after will I tell of our voyage,\r\nAnd all the remnant of our pilgrimage.\r\nBut first I pray you of your courtesy,\r\nThat ye *arette it not my villainy*,       *count it not rudeness in me*\r\nThough that I plainly speak in this mattere.\r\nTo tellen you their wordes and their cheer;\r\nNot though I speak their wordes properly.\r\nFor this ye knowen all so well as I,\r\nWhoso shall tell a tale after a man,\r\nHe must rehearse, as nigh as ever he can,\r\nEvery word, if it be in his charge,\r\n*All speak he* ne\u2019er so rudely and so large;             *let him speak*\r\nOr elles he must tell his tale untrue,\r\nOr feigne things, or finde wordes new.\r\nHe may not spare, although he were his brother;\r\nHe must as well say one word as another.\r\nChrist spake Himself full broad in Holy Writ,\r\nAnd well ye wot no villainy is it.\r\nEke Plato saith, whoso that can him read,\r\nThe wordes must be cousin to the deed.\r\nAlso I pray you to forgive it me,\r\n*All have I* not set folk in their degree,             *although I have*\r\nHere in this tale, as that they shoulden stand:\r\nMy wit is short, ye may well understand.\r\n\r\nGreat cheere made our Host us every one,\r\nAnd to the supper set he us anon:\r\nAnd served us with victual of the best.\r\nStrong was the wine, and well to drink us lest*.                *pleased\r\nA seemly man Our Hoste was withal\r\nFor to have been a marshal in an hall.\r\nA large man he was with eyen steep*,                          *deep-set.\r\nA fairer burgess is there none in Cheap<60>:\r\nBold of his speech, and wise and well y-taught,\r\nAnd of manhoode lacked him right naught.\r\nEke thereto was he right a merry man,\r\nAnd after supper playen he began,\r\nAnd spake of mirth amonges other things,\r\nWhen that we hadde made our reckonings;\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cNow, lordinges, truly\r\nYe be to me welcome right heartily:\r\nFor by my troth, if that I shall not lie,\r\nI saw not this year such a company\r\nAt once in this herberow*, am is now.                          *inn <61>\r\nFain would I do you mirth, an* I wist* how.                  *if I knew*\r\nAnd of a mirth I am right now bethought.\r\nTo do you ease*, and it shall coste nought.                    *pleasure\r\nYe go to Canterbury; God you speed,\r\nThe blissful Martyr *quite you your meed*;               *grant you what\r\nAnd well I wot, as ye go by the way,                        you deserve*\r\nYe *shapen you* to talken and to play:                       *intend to*\r\nFor truely comfort nor mirth is none\r\nTo ride by the way as dumb as stone:\r\nAnd therefore would I make you disport,\r\nAs I said erst, and do you some comfort.\r\nAnd if you liketh all by one assent\r\nNow for to standen at my judgement,\r\nAnd for to worken as I shall you say\r\nTo-morrow, when ye riden on the way,\r\nNow by my father\u2019s soule that is dead,\r\n*But ye be merry, smiteth off* mine head.         *unless you are merry,\r\nHold up your hands withoute more speech.              smite off my head*\r\n\r\nOur counsel was not longe for to seech*:                           *seek\r\nUs thought it was not worth to *make it wise*,    *discuss it at length*\r\nAnd granted him withoute more avise*,                     *consideration\r\nAnd bade him say his verdict, as him lest.\r\nLordings (quoth he), now hearken for the best;\r\nBut take it not, I pray you, in disdain;\r\nThis is the point, to speak it plat* and plain.                    *flat\r\nThat each of you, to shorten with your way\r\nIn this voyage, shall tellen tales tway,\r\nTo Canterbury-ward, I mean it so,\r\nAnd homeward he shall tellen other two,\r\nOf aventures that whilom have befall.\r\nAnd which of you that bear\u2019th him best of all,\r\nThat is to say, that telleth in this case\r\nTales of best sentence and most solace,\r\nShall have a supper *at your aller cost*        *at the cost of you all*\r\nHere in this place, sitting by this post,\r\nWhen that ye come again from Canterbury.\r\nAnd for to make you the more merry,\r\nI will myselfe gladly with you ride,\r\nRight at mine owen cost, and be your guide.\r\nAnd whoso will my judgement withsay,\r\nShall pay for all we spenden by the way.\r\nAnd if ye vouchesafe that it be so,\r\nTell me anon withoute wordes mo\u2019*,                                 *more\r\nAnd I will early shape me therefore.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis thing was granted, and our oath we swore\r\nWith full glad heart, and prayed him also,\r\nThat he would vouchesafe for to do so,\r\nAnd that he woulde be our governour,\r\nAnd of our tales judge and reportour,\r\nAnd set a supper at a certain price;\r\nAnd we will ruled be at his device,\r\nIn high and low: and thus by one assent,\r\nWe be accorded to his judgement.\r\nAnd thereupon the wine was fet* anon.                          *fetched.\r\nWe drunken, and to reste went each one,\r\nWithouten any longer tarrying\r\nA-morrow, when the day began to spring,\r\nUp rose our host, and was *our aller cock*,    *the cock to wake us all*\r\nAnd gather\u2019d us together in a flock,\r\nAnd forth we ridden all a little space,\r\nUnto the watering of Saint Thomas<62>:\r\nAnd there our host began his horse arrest,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cLordes, hearken if you lest.\r\nYe *weet your forword,* and I it record.             *know your promise*\r\nIf even-song and morning-song accord,\r\nLet see now who shall telle the first tale.\r\nAs ever may I drinke wine or ale,\r\nWhoso is rebel to my judgement,\r\nShall pay for all that by the way is spent.\r\nNow draw ye cuts*, ere that ye farther twin**.                *lots **go\r\nHe which that hath the shortest shall begin.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cSir Knight (quoth he), my master and my lord,\r\nNow draw the cut, for that is mine accord.\r\nCome near (quoth he), my Lady Prioress,\r\nAnd ye, Sir Clerk, let be your shamefastness,\r\nNor study not: lay hand to, every man.\u201d\r\nAnon to drawen every wight began,\r\nAnd shortly for to tellen as it was,\r\nWere it by a venture, or sort*, or cas**,                  *lot **chance\r\nThe sooth is this, the cut fell to the Knight,\r\nOf which full blithe and glad was every wight;\r\nAnd tell he must his tale as was reason,\r\nBy forword, and by composition,\r\nAs ye have heard; what needeth wordes mo\u2019?\r\nAnd when this good man saw that it was so,\r\nAs he that wise was and obedient\r\nTo keep his forword by his free assent,\r\nHe said; \u201cSithen* I shall begin this game,                        *since\r\nWhy, welcome be the cut in Godde\u2019s name.\r\nNow let us ride, and hearken what I say.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word we ridden forth our way;\r\nAnd he began with right a merry cheer\r\nHis tale anon, and said as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Tyrwhitt points out that \u201cthe Bull\u201d should be read  here, not\r\n\u201cthe Ram,\u201d which would place the time of  the pilgrimage in the\r\nend of March; whereas, in the Prologue to the Man of Law\u2019s\r\nTale, the date is given as the \u201ceight and  twenty day of April,\r\nthat is messenger to May.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. Dante, in the \u201cVita Nuova,\u201d distinguishes three classes of\r\npilgrims: palmieri - palmers who go beyond  sea to the East,\r\nand often bring back staves of palm-wood; peregrini, who go\r\nthe shrine of St Jago in Galicia; Romei, who go to Rome.   Sir\r\nWalter Scott, however, says that palmers were in the habit of\r\npassing from shrine to shrine, living on charity \u2014 pilgrims on the\r\nother hand, made the journey to any shrine only once,\r\nimmediately returning to their ordinary avocations. Chaucer\r\nuses \u201cpalmer\u201d of all pilgrims.\r\n\r\n3. \u201cHallows\u201d survives, in the meaning here given, in All Hallows\r\n\u2014 All-Saints \u2014 day.  \u201cCouth,\u201d past participle of \u201cconne\u201d to\r\nknow, exists in \u201cuncouth.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. The Tabard \u2014 the sign of the inn \u2014 was a sleeveless coat,\r\nworn by heralds.  The name of the inn was, some three\r\ncenturies after Chaucer, changed to the Talbot.\r\n\r\n5. In y-fall,\u201d \u201cy\u201d is a corruption of the Anglo-Saxon \u201cge\u201d\r\nprefixed to participles of verbs.  It is used by Chaucer merely to\r\nhelp the metre  In German,  \u201cy-fall,\u201d or  y-falle,\u201d would be\r\n\u201cgefallen\u201d,  \u201cy-run,\u201d or \u201cy-ronne\u201d, would be \u201cgeronnen.\u201d\r\n\r\n6. Alisandre: Alexandria, in Egypt, captured by Pierre de\r\nLusignan, king of Cyprus, in 1365 but abandoned immediately\r\nafterwards.  Thirteen years before, the same Prince had taken\r\nSatalie, the ancient Attalia, in Anatolia, and in 1367 he won\r\nLayas, in Armenia, both places named just below.\r\n\r\n7. The knight had been placed at the head of the table, above\r\nknights of all nations, in Prussia, whither warriors from all\r\ncountries were wont to repair, to aid the Teutonic Order in their\r\ncontinual conflicts with their heathen neighbours in  \u201cLettowe\u201d\r\nor Lithuania (German. \u201cLitthauen\u201d), Russia, &c.\r\n\r\n8. Algesiras was taken from the Moorish king of Grenada, in\r\n1344: the Earls of Derby and Salisbury took part in the siege.\r\nBelmarie is supposed to have been a Moorish state in Africa;\r\nbut \u201cPalmyrie\u201d has been suggested as the correct reading. The\r\nGreat Sea, or  the Greek sea, is the Eastern Mediterranean.\r\nTramissene, or Tremessen, is enumerated by Froissart among\r\nthe Moorish kingdoms in Africa. Palatie, or  Palathia, in\r\nAnatolia, was a fief held by the Christian  knights after the\r\nTurkish conquests \u2014 the holders paying tribute to the infidel.\r\nOur knight had fought with one of those lords against a heathen\r\nneighbour.\r\n\r\n9. Ilke: same; compare the Scottish phrase \u201cof that ilk,\u201d \u2014\r\nthat is, of the estate which bears the same name as its owner\u2019s\r\ntitle.\r\n\r\n10. It was the custom for squires of the highest degree to carve\r\nat their fathers\u2019 tables.\r\n\r\n11. Peacock Arrows: Large arrows, with peacocks\u2019 feathers.\r\n\r\n12. A nut-head: With nut-brown hair; or, round like a nut, the\r\nhair being cut short.\r\n\r\n13. Grey eyes appear to have been a mark of female beauty in\r\nChaucer\u2019s time.\r\n\r\n14. \u201cfor the mastery\u201d was applied to medicines in the sense of\r\n\u201csovereign\u201d as we now apply it to a remedy.\r\n\r\n15. It was fashionable to hang bells on horses\u2019 bridles.\r\n\r\n16. St. Benedict was the first founder of a spiritual order in the\r\nRoman church.  Maurus, abbot of Fulda from 822 to 842, did\r\nmuch to re-establish the discipline of the Benedictines on a true\r\nChristian basis.\r\n\r\n17. Wood: Mad, Scottish \u201cwud\u201d.  Felix says to Paul, \u201cToo\r\nmuch learning hath made thee mad\u201d.\r\n\r\n18. Limitour: A friar with licence or privilege to beg, or\r\nexercise other functions, within a certain district: as, \u201cthe\r\nlimitour of Holderness\u201d.\r\n\r\n19. Farme: rent; that is, he paid a premium for his licence to\r\nbeg.\r\n\r\n20. In principio:  the first words of Genesis and John, employed\r\nin some part of the mass.\r\n\r\n21. Lovedays: meetings appointed for friendly settlement of\r\ndifferences; the business was often followed by sports and\r\nfeasting.\r\n\r\n22. He would the sea were kept  for any thing: he would for\r\nanything that the sea were guarded. \u201cThe old subsidy of\r\ntonnage and poundage,\u201d says Tyrwhitt, \u201cwas given to the king\r\n\u2018pour la saufgarde et custodie del mer.\u2019 \u2014  for the safeguard and\r\nkeeping of the sea\u201d (12 E. IV. C.3).\r\n\r\n23. Middleburg, at the mouth of the Scheldt, in Holland;\r\nOrwell, a seaport in Essex.\r\n\r\n24. Shields: Crowns, so called from the shields stamped on\r\nthem; French, \u201cecu;\u201d Italian, \u201cscudo.\u201d\r\n\r\n25. Poor scholars at the universities used then to go about\r\nbegging for money to maintain them and their studies.\r\n\r\n26. Parvis: The portico of St. Paul\u2019s, which lawyers frequented\r\nto meet their clients.\r\n\r\n27. St Julian: The patron saint of hospitality, celebrated for\r\nsupplying his votaries with good lodging and good cheer.\r\n\r\n28. Mew: cage. The place behind Whitehall, where the king\u2019s\r\nhawks were  caged was called the Mews.\r\n\r\n29. Many a luce in stew: many a pike in his fish-pond; in those\r\nCatholic days, when much fish was eaten, no gentleman\u2019s\r\nmansion was complete without a \u201cstew\u201d.\r\n\r\n30. Countour:  Probably a steward or accountant in the county\r\ncourt.\r\n\r\n31. Vavasour: A landholder of consequence; holding of a duke,\r\nmarquis, or earl, and ranking below a baron.\r\n\r\n32. On the dais:  On the raised platform at the end of the hall,\r\nwhere sat at meat or in judgement those high in authority, rank\r\nor honour; in our days the worthy craftsmen might have been\r\ndescribed as \u201cgood platform men\u201d.\r\n\r\n33. To take precedence over all in going to the evening service\r\nof the Church, or to festival meetings, to which it was the\r\nfashion to carry rich cloaks or mantles against the home-\r\ncoming.\r\n\r\n34. The things the cook could make: \u201cmarchand tart\u201d,  some\r\nnow unknown ingredient used in cookery; \u201cgalingale,\u201d sweet or\r\nlong rooted cyprus; \u201cmortrewes\u201d, a rich soup made by stamping\r\nflesh in a mortar; \u201cBlanc manger\u201d, not what is now called\r\nblancmange; one part of it was the brawn of a capon.\r\n\r\n35. Lodemanage: pilotage, from Anglo-Saxon \u201cladman,\u201d a\r\nleader, guide, or pilot; hence \u201clodestar,\u201d \u201clodestone.\u201d\r\n\r\n36. The authors mentioned here were the chief medical text-\r\nbooks of the middle ages. The names of Galen and Hippocrates\r\nwere then usually spelt \u201cGallien\u201d and \u201cHypocras\u201d or \u201cYpocras\u201d.\r\n\r\n37. The west of England, especially around Bath, was the seat\r\nof the cloth-manufacture, as were Ypres and Ghent (Gaunt) in\r\nFlanders.\r\n\r\n38. Chaucer here satirises the fashion of the time, which piled\r\nbulky and heavy waddings on ladies\u2019 heads.\r\n\r\n39. Moist; here used in the sense of \u201cnew\u201d, as in Latin,\r\n\u201cmustum\u201d signifies new wine; and elsewhere Chaucer speaks of\r\n\u201cmoisty ale\u201d, as opposed to \u201cold\u201d.\r\n\r\n40. In Galice at Saint James: at the shrine of St Jago of\r\nCompostella in Spain.\r\n\r\n41. Gat-toothed: Buck-toothed; goat-toothed, to signify her\r\nwantonness; or gap-toothed \u2014 with gaps between her teeth.\r\n\r\n42. An endowment to sing masses for the soul of the donor.\r\n\r\n43. A ram was the usual prize at wrestling matches.\r\n\r\n44. Cop: Head; German, \u201cKopf\u201d.\r\n\r\n45. Nose-thirles: nostrils; from the Anglo-Saxon, \u201cthirlian,\u201d to\r\npierce; hence the word \u201cdrill,\u201d to bore.\r\n\r\n46. Goliardais: a babbler and a buffoon; Golias was the founder\r\nof a jovial sect called by his name.\r\n\r\n47. The proverb says that every honest miller has a thumb of\r\ngold; probably Chaucer means that this one was as honest as his\r\nbrethren.\r\n\r\n48. A Manciple \u2014 Latin, \u201cmanceps,\u201d a purchaser or contractor -\r\n- was an officer charged with the purchase of victuals for inns\r\nof court or colleges.\r\n\r\n49. Reeve: A land-steward; still called \u201cgrieve\u201d \u2014 Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cgerefa\u201d  in some parts of Scotland.\r\n\r\n50. Sompnour: summoner; an apparitor, who cited delinquents\r\nto appear in ecclesiastical courts.\r\n\r\n51. Questio quid juris: \u201cI ask which law (applies)\u201d; a cant law-\r\nLatin phrase.\r\n\r\n52 Harlot: a low, ribald fellow; the word was used of both\r\nsexes; it comes from the Anglo-Saxon verb to hire.\r\n\r\n53. Significavit: an ecclesiastical writ.\r\n\r\n54. Within his jurisdiction he had at his own pleasure the young\r\npeople (of both sexes) in the diocese.\r\n\r\n55. Pardoner: a seller of pardons or indulgences.\r\n\r\n56. Newe get:  new gait, or fashion; \u201cgait\u201d is still used in this\r\nsense in some parts of the country.\r\n\r\n57. Vernicle: an image of Christ; so called from St Veronica,\r\nwho gave the Saviour a napkin to wipe the sweat from  His face\r\nas He bore the Cross, and received it back with an impression\r\nof His countenance upon it.\r\n\r\n58. Mail: packet, baggage; French, \u201cmalle,\u201d a trunk.\r\n\r\n59. The Bell:  apparently another Southwark tavern; Stowe\r\nmentions a \u201cBull\u201d as being near the Tabard.\r\n\r\n60. Cheap: Cheapside, then inhabited by the richest and most\r\nprosperous citizens of London.\r\n\r\n61. Herberow: Lodging, inn; French, \u201cHerberge.\u201d\r\n\r\n62. The watering of Saint Thomas: At the second milestone on\r\nthe old Canterbury road.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE KNIGHT\u2019S TALE <1>\r\n\r\n\r\nWHILOM*, as olde stories tellen us,                            *formerly\r\nThere was a duke that highte* Theseus.                   *was called <2>\r\nOf Athens he was lord and governor,\r\nAnd in his time such a conqueror\r\nThat greater was there none under the sun.\r\nFull many a riche country had he won.\r\nWhat with his wisdom and his chivalry,\r\nHe conquer\u2019d all the regne of Feminie,<3>\r\nThat whilom was y-cleped Scythia;\r\nAnd weddede the Queen Hippolyta\r\nAnd brought her home with him to his country\r\nWith muchel* glory and great solemnity,                           *great\r\nAnd eke her younge sister Emily,\r\nAnd thus with vict\u2019ry and with melody\r\nLet I this worthy Duke to Athens ride,\r\nAnd all his host, in armes him beside.\r\n\r\nAnd certes, if it n\u2019ere* too long to hear,                     *were not\r\nI would have told you fully the mannere,\r\nHow wonnen* was the regne of Feminie, <4>                           *won\r\nBy Theseus, and by his chivalry;\r\nAnd of the greate battle for the nonce\r\nBetwixt Athenes and the Amazons;\r\nAnd how assieged was Hippolyta,\r\nThe faire hardy queen of Scythia;\r\nAnd of the feast that was at her wedding\r\nAnd of the tempest at her homecoming.\r\nBut all these things I must as now forbear.\r\nI have, God wot, a large field to ear*                       *plough<5>;\r\nAnd weake be the oxen in my plough;\r\nThe remnant of my tale is long enow.\r\nI will not *letten eke none of this rout*.                *hinder any of\r\nLet every fellow tell his tale about,                      this company*\r\nAnd let see now who shall the supper win.\r\nThere *as I left*, I will again begin.                *where I left off*\r\n\r\nThis Duke, of whom I make mentioun,\r\nWhen he was come almost unto the town,\r\nIn all his weal, and in his moste pride,\r\nHe was ware, as he cast his eye aside,\r\nWhere that there kneeled in the highe way\r\nA company of ladies, tway and tway,\r\nEach after other, clad in clothes black:\r\nBut such a cry and such a woe they make,\r\nThat in this world n\u2019is creature living,\r\nThat hearde such another waimenting*                      *lamenting <6>\r\nAnd of this crying would they never stenten*,                    *desist\r\nTill they the reines of his bridle henten*.                       *seize\r\n\u201cWhat folk be ye that at mine homecoming\r\nPerturben so my feaste with crying?\u201d\r\nQuoth Theseus; \u201cHave ye so great envy\r\nOf mine honour, that thus complain and cry?\r\nOr who hath you misboden*, or offended?                         *wronged\r\nDo telle me, if it may be amended;\r\nAnd why that ye be clad thus all in black?\u201d\r\n\r\nThe oldest lady of them all then spake,\r\nWhen she had swooned, with a deadly cheer*,                 *countenance\r\nThat it was ruthe* for to see or hear.                             *pity\r\nShe saide; \u201cLord, to whom fortune hath given\r\nVict\u2019ry, and as a conqueror to liven,\r\nNought grieveth us your glory and your honour;\r\nBut we beseechen mercy and succour.\r\nHave mercy on our woe and our distress;\r\nSome drop of pity, through thy gentleness,\r\nUpon us wretched women let now fall.\r\nFor certes, lord, there is none of us all\r\nThat hath not been a duchess or a queen;\r\nNow be we caitives*, as it is well seen:                       *captives\r\nThanked be Fortune, and her false wheel,\r\nThat *none estate ensureth to be wele*.       *assures no continuance of\r\nAnd certes, lord, t\u2019abiden your presence              prosperous estate*\r\nHere in this temple of the goddess Clemence\r\nWe have been waiting all this fortenight:\r\nNow help us, lord, since it lies in thy might.\r\n\r\n\u201cI, wretched wight, that weep and waile thus,\r\nWas whilom wife to king Capaneus,\r\nThat starf* at Thebes, cursed be that day:                     *died <7>\r\nAnd alle we that be in this array,\r\nAnd maken all this lamentatioun,\r\nWe losten all our husbands at that town,\r\nWhile that the siege thereabouten lay.\r\nAnd yet the olde Creon, wellaway!\r\nThat lord is now of Thebes the city,\r\nFulfilled of ire and of iniquity,\r\nHe for despite, and for his tyranny,\r\nTo do the deade bodies villainy*,                                *insult\r\nOf all our lorde\u2019s, which that been y-slaw,                       *slain\r\nHath all the bodies on an heap y-draw,\r\nAnd will not suffer them by none assent\r\nNeither to be y-buried, nor y-brent*,                             *burnt\r\nBut maketh houndes eat them in despite.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word, withoute more respite\r\nThey fallen groff,* and cryden piteously;                    *grovelling\r\n\u201cHave on us wretched women some mercy,\r\nAnd let our sorrow sinken in thine heart.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis gentle Duke down from his courser start\r\nWith hearte piteous, when he heard them speak.\r\nHim thoughte that his heart would all to-break,\r\nWhen he saw them so piteous and so mate*                         *abased\r\nThat whilom weren of so great estate.\r\nAnd in his armes he them all up hent*,                     *raised, took\r\nAnd them comforted in full good intent,\r\nAnd swore his oath, as he was true knight,\r\nHe woulde do *so farforthly his might*        *as far as his power went*\r\nUpon the tyrant Creon them to wreak*,                            *avenge\r\nThat all the people of Greece shoulde speak,\r\nHow Creon was of Theseus y-served,\r\nAs he that had his death full well deserved.\r\nAnd right anon withoute more abode*                               *delay\r\nHis banner he display\u2019d, and forth he rode\r\nTo Thebes-ward, and all his, host beside:\r\nNo ner* Athenes would he go nor ride,                            *nearer\r\nNor take his ease fully half a day,\r\nBut onward on his way that night he lay:\r\nAnd sent anon Hippolyta the queen,\r\nAnd Emily her younge sister sheen*                       *bright, lovely\r\nUnto the town of Athens for to dwell:\r\nAnd forth he rit*; there is no more to tell.                       *rode\r\n\r\nThe red statue of Mars with spear and targe*                     *shield\r\nSo shineth in his white banner large\r\nThat all the fieldes glitter up and down:\r\nAnd by his banner borne is his pennon\r\nOf gold full rich, in which there was y-beat*                   *stamped\r\nThe Minotaur<8> which that he slew in Crete\r\nThus rit this Duke, thus rit this conqueror\r\nAnd in his host of chivalry the flower,\r\nTill that he came to Thebes, and alight\r\nFair in a field, there as he thought to fight.\r\nBut shortly for to speaken of this thing,\r\nWith Creon, which that was of Thebes king,\r\nHe fought, and slew him manly as a knight\r\nIn plain bataille, and put his folk to flight:\r\nAnd by assault he won the city after,\r\nAnd rent adown both wall, and spar, and rafter;\r\nAnd to the ladies he restored again\r\nThe bodies of their husbands that were slain,\r\nTo do obsequies, as was then the guise*.                         *custom\r\n\r\nBut it were all too long for to devise*                        *describe\r\nThe greate clamour, and the waimenting*,                      *lamenting\r\nWhich that the ladies made at the brenning*                     *burning\r\nOf the bodies, and the great honour\r\nThat Theseus the noble conqueror\r\nDid to the ladies, when they from him went:\r\nBut shortly for to tell is mine intent.\r\nWhen that this worthy Duke, this Theseus,\r\nHad Creon slain, and wonnen Thebes thus,\r\nStill in the field he took all night his rest,\r\nAnd did with all the country as him lest*.                      *pleased\r\nTo ransack in the tas* of bodies dead,                             *heap\r\nThem for to strip of *harness and of **weed,           *armour **clothes\r\nThe pillers* did their business and cure,                 *pillagers <9>\r\nAfter the battle and discomfiture.\r\nAnd so befell, that in the tas they found,\r\nThrough girt with many a grievous bloody wound,\r\nTwo younge knightes *ligging by and by*             *lying side by side*\r\nBoth in *one armes*, wrought full richely:             *the same armour*\r\nOf whiche two, Arcita hight that one,\r\nAnd he that other highte Palamon.\r\nNot fully quick*, nor fully dead they were,                       *alive\r\nBut by their coat-armour, and by their gear,\r\nThe heralds knew them well in special,\r\nAs those that weren of the blood royal\r\nOf Thebes, and *of sistren two y-born*.            *born of two sisters*\r\nOut of the tas the pillers have them torn,\r\nAnd have them carried soft unto the tent\r\nOf Theseus, and he full soon them sent\r\nTo Athens, for to dwellen in prison\r\nPerpetually, he *n\u2019olde no ranson*.               *would take no ransom*\r\nAnd when this worthy Duke had thus y-done,\r\nHe took his host, and home he rit anon\r\nWith laurel crowned as a conquerour;\r\nAnd there he lived in joy and in honour\r\nTerm of his life; what needeth wordes mo\u2019?\r\nAnd in a tower, in anguish and in woe,\r\nDwellen this Palamon, and eke Arcite,\r\nFor evermore, there may no gold them quite*                    *set free\r\n\r\nThus passed year by year, and day by day,\r\nTill it fell ones in a morn of May\r\nThat Emily, that fairer was to seen\r\nThan is the lily upon his stalke green,\r\nAnd fresher than the May with flowers new\r\n(For with the rose colour strove her hue;\r\nI n\u2019ot* which was the finer of them two),                      *know not\r\nEre it was day, as she was wont to do,\r\nShe was arisen, and all ready dight*,                           *dressed\r\nFor May will have no sluggardy a-night;\r\nThe season pricketh every gentle heart,\r\nAnd maketh him out of his sleep to start,\r\nAnd saith, \u201cArise, and do thine observance.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis maketh Emily have remembrance\r\nTo do honour to May, and for to rise.\r\nY-clothed was she fresh for to devise;\r\nHer yellow hair was braided in a tress,\r\nBehind her back, a yarde long I guess.\r\nAnd in the garden at *the sun uprist*                           *sunrise\r\nShe walketh up and down where as her list.\r\nShe gathereth flowers, party* white and red,                    *mingled\r\nTo make a sotel* garland for her head,            *subtle, well-arranged\r\nAnd as an angel heavenly she sung.\r\nThe greate tower, that was so thick and strong,\r\nWhich of the castle was the chief dungeon<10>\r\n(Where as these knightes weren in prison,\r\nOf which I tolde you, and telle shall),\r\nWas even joinant* to the garden wall,                         *adjoining\r\nThere as this Emily had her playing.\r\n\r\nBright was the sun, and clear that morrowning,\r\nAnd Palamon, this woful prisoner,\r\nAs was his wont, by leave of his gaoler,\r\nWas ris\u2019n, and roamed in a chamber on high,\r\nIn which he all the noble city sigh*,                               *saw\r\nAnd eke the garden, full of branches green,\r\nThere as this fresh Emelia the sheen\r\nWas in her walk, and roamed up and down.\r\nThis sorrowful prisoner, this Palamon\r\nWent in his chamber roaming to and fro,\r\nAnd to himself complaining of his woe:\r\nThat he was born, full oft he said, Alas!\r\nAnd so befell, by aventure or cas*,                              *chance\r\nThat through a window thick of many a bar\r\nOf iron great, and square as any spar,\r\nHe cast his eyes upon Emelia,\r\nAnd therewithal he blent* and cried, Ah!                  *started aside\r\nAs though he stungen were unto the heart.\r\nAnd with that cry Arcite anon up start,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cCousin mine, what aileth thee,\r\nThat art so pale and deadly for to see?\r\nWhy cried\u2019st thou? who hath thee done offence?\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, take all in patience\r\nOur prison*, for it may none other be.                     *imprisonment\r\nFortune hath giv\u2019n us this adversity\u2019.\r\nSome wick\u2019* aspect or disposition                                *wicked\r\nOf Saturn<11>, by some constellation,\r\nHath giv\u2019n us this, although we had it sworn,\r\nSo stood the heaven when that we were born,\r\nWe must endure; this is the short and plain.\r\n\r\nThis Palamon answer\u2019d, and said again:\r\n\u201cCousin, forsooth of this opinion\r\nThou hast a vain imagination.\r\nThis prison caused me not for to cry;\r\nBut I was hurt right now thorough mine eye\r\nInto mine heart; that will my bane*  be.                    *destruction\r\nThe fairness of the lady that I see\r\nYond in the garden roaming to and fro,\r\nIs cause of all my crying and my woe.\r\nI *n\u2019ot wher* she be woman or goddess,                *know not whether*\r\nBut Venus is it, soothly* as I guess,                             *truly\r\nAnd therewithal on knees adown he fill,\r\nAnd saide: \u201cVenus, if it be your will\r\nYou in this garden thus to transfigure\r\nBefore me sorrowful wretched creature,\r\nOut of this prison help that we may scape.\r\nAnd if so be our destiny be shape\r\nBy etern word to dien in prison,\r\nOf our lineage have some compassion,\r\nThat is so low y-brought by tyranny.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word Arcita *gan espy*               *began to look forth*\r\nWhere as this lady roamed to and fro\r\nAnd with that sight her beauty hurt him so,\r\nThat if that Palamon was wounded sore,\r\nArcite is hurt as much as he, or more.\r\nAnd with a sigh he saide piteously:\r\n\u201cThe freshe beauty slay\u2019th me suddenly\r\nOf her that roameth yonder in the place.\r\nAnd but* I have her mercy and her grace,                         *unless\r\nThat I may see her at the leaste way,\r\nI am but dead; there is no more to say.\u201d\r\nThis Palamon, when he these wordes heard,\r\nDispiteously* he looked, and answer\u2019d:                          *angrily\r\n\u201cWhether say\u2019st thou this in earnest or in play?\u201d\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth Arcite, \u201cin earnest, by my fay*.                     *faith\r\nGod help me so, *me lust full ill to play*.\u201d          *I am in no humour\r\nThis Palamon gan knit his browes tway.                      for jesting*\r\n\u201cIt were,\u201d quoth he, \u201cto thee no great honour\r\nFor to be false, nor for to be traitour\r\nTo me, that am thy cousin and thy brother\r\nY-sworn full deep, and each of us to other,\r\nThat never for to dien in the pain <12>,\r\nTill that the death departen shall us twain,\r\nNeither of us in love to hinder other,\r\nNor in none other case, my leve* brother;                          *dear\r\nBut that thou shouldest truly farther me\r\nIn every case, as I should farther thee.\r\nThis was thine oath, and mine also certain;\r\nI wot it well, thou dar\u2019st it not withsayn*,                       *deny\r\nThus art thou of my counsel out of doubt,\r\nAnd now thou wouldest falsely be about\r\nTo love my lady, whom I love and serve,\r\nAnd ever shall, until mine hearte sterve*                           *die\r\nNow certes, false Arcite, thou shalt not so\r\nI lov\u2019d her first, and tolde thee my woe\r\nAs to my counsel, and my brother sworn\r\nTo farther me, as I have told beforn.\r\nFor which thou art y-bounden as a knight\r\nTo helpe me, if it lie in thy might,\r\nOr elles art thou false, I dare well sayn,\u201d\r\n\r\nThis Arcita full proudly spake again:\r\n\u201cThou shalt,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbe rather* false than I,                *sooner\r\nAnd thou art false, I tell thee utterly;\r\nFor par amour I lov\u2019d her first ere thou.\r\nWhat wilt thou say? *thou wist it not right now*          *even now thou\r\nWhether she be a woman or goddess.                          knowest not*\r\nThine is affection of holiness,\r\nAnd mine is love, as to a creature:\r\nFor which I tolde thee mine aventure\r\nAs to my cousin, and my brother sworn\r\nI pose*, that thou loved\u2019st her beforn:                         *suppose\r\nWost* thou not well the olde clerke\u2019s saw<13>,                  *know\u2019st\r\nThat who shall give a lover any law?\r\nLove is a greater lawe, by my pan,\r\nThan may be giv\u2019n to any earthly man:\r\nTherefore positive law, and such decree,\r\nIs broke alway for love in each degree\r\nA man must needes love, maugre his head.\r\nHe may not flee it, though he should be dead,\r\n*All be she* maid, or widow, or else wife.              *whether she be*\r\nAnd eke it is not likely all thy life\r\nTo standen in her grace, no more than I\r\nFor well thou wost thyselfe verily,\r\nThat thou and I be damned to prison\r\nPerpetual, us gaineth no ranson.\r\nWe strive, as did the houndes for the bone;\r\nThey fought all day, and yet their part was none.\r\nThere came a kite, while that they were so wroth,\r\nAnd bare away the bone betwixt them both.\r\nAnd therefore at the kinge\u2019s court, my brother,\r\nEach man for himselfe, there is no  other.\r\nLove if thee list; for I love and aye shall\r\nAnd soothly, leve brother, this is all.\r\nHere in this prison musten we endure,\r\nAnd each of us take his Aventure.\u201d\r\n\r\nGreat was the strife and long between these tway,\r\nIf that I hadde leisure for to say;\r\nBut to the effect: it happen\u2019d on a day\r\n(To tell it you as shortly as I may),\r\nA worthy duke that hight Perithous<14>\r\nThat fellow was to the Duke Theseus\r\nSince thilke* day that they were children lite**          *that **little\r\nWas come to Athens, his fellow to visite,\r\nAnd for to play, as he was wont to do;\r\nFor in this world he loved no man so;\r\nAnd he lov\u2019d him as tenderly again.\r\nSo well they lov\u2019d, as olde bookes sayn,\r\nThat when that one was dead, soothly to sayn,\r\nHis fellow went and sought him down in hell:\r\nBut of that story list me not to write.\r\nDuke Perithous loved well Arcite,\r\nAnd had him known at Thebes year by year:\r\nAnd finally at request and prayere\r\nOf Perithous, withoute ranson\r\nDuke Theseus him let out of prison,\r\nFreely to go, where him list over all,\r\nIn such a guise, as I you tellen shall\r\nThis was the forword*, plainly to indite,                       *promise\r\nBetwixte Theseus and him Arcite:\r\nThat if so were, that Arcite were y-found\r\nEver in his life, by day or night, one stound*               *moment<15>\r\nIn any country of this Theseus,\r\nAnd he were caught, it was accorded thus,\r\nThat with a sword he shoulde lose his head;\r\nThere was none other remedy nor rede*.                          *counsel\r\nBut took his leave, and homeward he him sped;\r\nLet him beware, his necke lieth *to wed*.                    *in pledge*\r\n\r\nHow great a sorrow suff\u2019reth now Arcite!\r\nThe death he feeleth through his hearte smite;\r\nHe weepeth, waileth, crieth piteously;\r\nTo slay himself he waiteth privily.\r\nHe said; \u201cAlas the day that I was born!\r\nNow is my prison worse than beforn:\r\n*Now is me shape* eternally to dwell                *it is fixed for me*\r\nNot in purgatory, but right in hell.\r\nAlas! that ever I knew Perithous.\r\nFor elles had I dwelt with Theseus\r\nY-fettered in his prison evermo\u2019.\r\nThen had I been in bliss, and not in woe.\r\nOnly the sight of her, whom that I serve,\r\nThough that I never may her grace deserve,\r\nWould have sufficed right enough for me.\r\nO deare cousin Palamon,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cThine is the vict\u2019ry of this aventure,\r\nFull blissfully in prison to endure:\r\nIn prison? nay certes, in paradise.\r\nWell hath fortune y-turned thee the dice,\r\nThat hast the sight of her, and I th\u2019 absence.\r\nFor possible is, since thou hast her presence,\r\nAnd art a knight, a worthy and an able,\r\nThat by some cas*, since fortune is changeable,                  *chance\r\nThou may\u2019st to thy desire sometime attain.\r\nBut I that am exiled, and barren\r\nOf alle grace, and in so great despair,\r\nThat there n\u2019is earthe, water, fire, nor air,\r\nNor creature, that of them maked is,\r\nThat may me helpe nor comfort in this,\r\nWell ought I *sterve in wanhope* and distress.          *die in despair*\r\nFarewell my life, my lust*, and my gladness.                   *pleasure\r\nAlas, *why plainen men so in commune       *why do men so often complain\r\nOf purveyance of God*, or of Fortune,              of God\u2019s providence?*\r\nThat giveth them full oft in many a guise\r\nWell better than they can themselves devise?\r\nSome man desireth for to have richess,\r\nThat cause is of his murder or great sickness.\r\nAnd some man would out of his prison fain,\r\nThat in his house is of his meinie* slain.                *servants <16>\r\nInfinite harmes be in this mattere.\r\nWe wot never what thing we pray for here.\r\nWe fare as he that drunk is as a mouse.\r\nA drunken man wot well he hath an house,\r\nBut he wot not which is the right way thither,\r\nAnd to a drunken man the way is slither*.                      *slippery\r\nAnd certes in this world so fare we.\r\nWe seeke fast after felicity,\r\nBut we go wrong full often truely.\r\nThus we may sayen all, and namely* I,                        *especially\r\nThat ween\u2019d*, and had a great opinion,                          *thought\r\nThat if I might escape from prison\r\nThen had I been in joy and perfect heal,\r\nWhere now I am exiled from my weal.\r\nSince that I may not see you, Emily,\r\nI am but dead; there is no remedy.\u201d\r\n\r\nUpon that other side, Palamon,\r\nWhen that he wist Arcita was agone,\r\nMuch sorrow maketh, that the greate tower\r\nResounded of his yelling and clamour\r\nThe pure* fetters on his shinnes great                        *very <17>\r\nWere of his bitter salte teares wet.\r\n\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201cArcita, cousin mine,\r\nOf all our strife, God wot, the fruit is thine.\r\nThou walkest now in Thebes at thy large,\r\nAnd of my woe thou *givest little charge*.          *takest little heed*\r\nThou mayst, since thou hast wisdom and manhead*,       *manhood, courage\r\nAssemble all the folk of our kindred,\r\nAnd make a war so sharp on this country\r\nThat by some aventure, or some treaty,\r\nThou mayst have her to lady and to wife,\r\nFor whom that I must needes lose my life.\r\nFor as by way of possibility,\r\nSince thou art at thy large, of prison free,\r\nAnd art a lord, great is thine avantage,\r\nMore than is mine, that sterve here in a cage.\r\nFor I must weep and wail, while that I live,\r\nWith all the woe that prison may me give,\r\nAnd eke with pain that love me gives also,\r\nThat doubles all my torment and my woe.\u201d\r\n\r\nTherewith the fire of jealousy upstart\r\nWithin his breast, and hent* him by the heart                    *seized\r\nSo woodly*, that he like was to behold                            *madly\r\nThe box-tree, or the ashes dead and cold.\r\nThen said; \u201cO cruel goddess, that govern\r\nThis world with binding of your word etern*                     *eternal\r\nAnd writen in the table of adamant\r\nYour parlement* and your eternal grant,                    *consultation\r\nWhat is mankind more *unto you y-hold*                  *by you esteemed\r\nThan is the sheep, that rouketh* in the fold!      *lie huddled together\r\nFor slain is man, right as another beast;\r\nAnd dwelleth eke in prison and arrest,\r\nAnd hath sickness, and great adversity,\r\nAnd oftentimes guilteless, pardie*                               *by God\r\nWhat governance is in your prescience,\r\nThat guilteless tormenteth innocence?\r\nAnd yet increaseth this all my penance,\r\nThat man is bounden to his observance\r\nFor Godde\u2019s  sake to *letten of his will*,         *restrain his desire*\r\nWhereas a beast may all his lust fulfil.\r\nAnd when a beast is dead, he hath no pain;\r\nBut man after his death must weep and plain,\r\nThough in this worlde he have care and woe:\r\nWithoute doubt it maye standen so.\r\n\u201cThe answer of this leave I to divines,\r\nBut well I wot, that in this world great pine* is;        *pain, trouble\r\nAlas! I see a serpent or a thief\r\nThat many a true man hath done mischief,\r\nGo at his large, and where him list may turn.\r\nBut I must be in prison through Saturn,\r\nAnd eke through Juno, jealous and eke wood*,                        *mad\r\nThat hath well nigh destroyed all the blood\r\nOf Thebes, with his waste walles wide.\r\nAnd Venus slay\u2019th me on that other side\r\nFor jealousy, and fear of him, Arcite.\u201d\r\n\r\nNow will I stent* of Palamon a lite**,                   *pause **little\r\nAnd let him in his prison stille dwell,\r\nAnd of Arcita forth I will you tell.\r\nThe summer passeth, and the nightes long\r\nIncrease double-wise the paines strong\r\nBoth of the lover and the prisonere.\r\nI n\u2019ot* which hath the wofuller mistere**.         *know not **condition\r\nFor, shortly for to say, this Palamon\r\nPerpetually is damned to prison,\r\nIn chaines and in fetters to be dead;\r\nAnd Arcite is exiled *on his head*                *on peril of his head*\r\nFor evermore as out of that country,\r\nNor never more he shall his lady see.\r\nYou lovers ask I now this question,<18>\r\nWho lieth the worse, Arcite or Palamon?\r\nThe one may see his lady day by day,\r\nBut in prison he dwelle must alway.\r\nThe other where him list may ride or go,\r\nBut see his lady shall he never mo\u2019.\r\nNow deem all as you liste, ye that can,\r\nFor I will tell you forth as I began.\r\n\r\nWhen that Arcite to Thebes comen was,\r\nFull oft a day he swelt*, and said, \u201cAlas!\u201d                     *fainted\r\nFor see this lady he shall never mo\u2019.\r\nAnd shortly to concluden all his woe,\r\nSo much sorrow had never creature\r\nThat is or shall be while the world may dure.\r\nHis sleep, his meat, his drink is *him byraft*,    *taken away from him*\r\nThat lean he wex*, and dry as any shaft.                         *became\r\nHis eyen hollow, grisly to behold,\r\nHis hue sallow, and pale as ashes cold,\r\nAnd solitary he was, ever alone,\r\nAnd wailing all the night, making his moan.\r\nAnd if he hearde song or instrument,\r\nThen would he weepen, he might not be stent*.                   *stopped\r\nSo feeble were his spirits, and so low,\r\nAnd changed so, that no man coulde know\r\nHis speech, neither his voice, though men it heard.\r\nAnd in his gear* for all the world he far\u2019d              *behaviour <19>\r\nNot only like the lovers\u2019 malady\r\nOf Eros, but rather y-like manie*                               *madness\r\nEngender\u2019d of humours melancholic,\r\nBefore his head in his cell fantastic.<20>\r\nAnd shortly turned was all upside down,\r\nBoth habit and eke dispositioun,\r\nOf him, this woful lover Dan* Arcite.                         *Lord <21>\r\nWhy should I all day of his woe indite?\r\nWhen he endured had a year or two\r\nThis cruel torment, and this pain and woe,\r\nAt Thebes, in his country, as I said,\r\nUpon a night in sleep as he him laid,\r\nHim thought how that the winged god Mercury\r\nBefore him stood, and bade him to be merry.\r\nHis sleepy yard* in hand he bare upright;                      *rod <22>\r\nA hat he wore upon his haires bright.\r\nArrayed was this god (as he took keep*)                          *notice\r\nAs he was when that Argus<23> took his sleep;\r\nAnd said him thus: \u201cTo Athens shalt thou wend*;                      *go\r\nThere is thee shapen* of thy woe an end.\u201d               *fixed, prepared\r\nAnd with that word Arcite woke and start.\r\n\u201cNow truely how sore that e\u2019er me smart,\u201d\r\nQuoth he, \u201cto Athens right now will I fare.\r\nNor for no dread of death shall I not spare\r\nTo see my lady that I love and serve;\r\nIn her presence *I recke not to sterve.*\u201d         *do not care if I die*\r\nAnd with that word he caught a great mirror,\r\nAnd saw that changed was all his colour,\r\nAnd saw his visage all in other kind.\r\nAnd right anon it ran him ill his mind,\r\nThat since his face was so disfigur\u2019d\r\nOf malady the which he had endur\u2019d,\r\nHe mighte well, if that he *bare him low,*      *lived in lowly fashion*\r\nLive in Athenes evermore unknow,\r\nAnd see his lady wellnigh day by day.\r\nAnd right anon he changed his array,\r\nAnd clad him as a poore labourer.\r\nAnd all alone, save only a squier,\r\nThat knew his privity* and all his cas**,             *secrets **fortune\r\nWhich was disguised poorly as he was,\r\nTo Athens is he gone the nexte*  way.                      *nearest <24>\r\nAnd to the court he went upon a day,\r\nAnd at the gate he proffer\u2019d his service,\r\nTo drudge and draw, what so men would devise*.                    *order\r\nAnd, shortly of this matter for to sayn,\r\nHe fell in office with a chamberlain,\r\nThe which that dwelling was with Emily.\r\nFor he was wise, and coulde soon espy\r\nOf every servant which that served her.\r\nWell could he hewe wood, and water bear,\r\nFor he was young and mighty for the nones*,                    *occasion\r\nAnd thereto he was strong and big of bones\r\nTo do that any wight can him devise.\r\n\r\nA year or two he was in this service,\r\nPage of the chamber of Emily the bright;\r\nAnd Philostrate he saide that he hight.\r\nBut half so well belov\u2019d a man as he\r\nNe was there never in court of his degree.\r\nHe was so gentle of conditioun,\r\nThat throughout all the court was his renown.\r\nThey saide that it were a charity\r\nThat Theseus would *enhance his degree*,           *elevate him in rank*\r\nAnd put him in some worshipful service,\r\nThere as he might his virtue exercise.\r\nAnd thus within a while his name sprung\r\nBoth of his deedes, and of his good tongue,\r\nThat Theseus hath taken him so near,\r\nThat of his chamber he hath made him squire,\r\nAnd gave him gold to maintain his degree;\r\nAnd eke men brought him out of his country\r\nFrom year to year full privily his rent.\r\nBut honestly and slyly* he it spent,              *discreetly, prudently\r\nThat no man wonder\u2019d how that he it had.\r\nAnd three year in this wise his life be lad*,                       *led\r\nAnd bare him so in peace and eke in werre*,                         *war\r\nThere was no man that Theseus had so derre*.                       *dear\r\nAnd in this blisse leave I now Arcite,\r\nAnd speak I will of Palamon a lite*.                             *little\r\n\r\nIn darkness horrible, and strong prison,\r\nThis seven year hath sitten Palamon,\r\nForpined*, what for love, and for distress.          *pined, wasted away\r\nWho feeleth double sorrow and heaviness\r\nBut Palamon? that love distraineth* so,                        *afflicts\r\nThat wood* out of his wits he went for woe,                         *mad\r\nAnd eke thereto he is a prisonere\r\nPerpetual, not only for a year.\r\nWho coulde rhyme in English properly\r\nHis martyrdom? forsooth*, it is not I;                            *truly\r\nTherefore I pass as lightly as I may.\r\nIt fell that in the seventh year, in May\r\nThe thirde night (as olde bookes sayn,\r\nThat all this story tellen more plain),\r\nWere it by a venture or destiny\r\n(As when a thing is shapen* it shall be),              *settled, decreed\r\nThat soon after the midnight, Palamon\r\nBy helping of a friend brake his prison,\r\nAnd fled the city fast as he might go,\r\nFor he had given drink his gaoler so\r\nOf a clary <25>, made of a certain wine,\r\nWith *narcotise and opie* of Thebes fine,          *narcotics and opium*\r\nThat all the night, though that men would him shake,\r\nThe gaoler slept, he mighte not awake:\r\nAnd thus he fled as fast as ever he may.\r\nThe night was short, and *faste by the day            *close at hand was\r\nThat needes cast he must himself to hide*.          the day during which\r\nAnd to a grove faste there beside       he must cast about, or contrive,\r\nWith dreadful foot then stalked Palamon.            to conceal himself.*\r\nFor shortly this was his opinion,\r\nThat in the grove he would him hide all day,\r\nAnd in the night then would he take his way\r\nTo Thebes-ward, his friendes for to pray\r\nOn Theseus to help him to warray*.                        *make war <26>\r\nAnd shortly either he would lose his life,\r\nOr winnen Emily unto his wife.\r\nThis is th\u2019 effect, and his intention plain.\r\n\r\nNow will I turn to Arcita again,\r\nThat little wist how nighe was his care,\r\nTill that Fortune had brought him in the snare.\r\nThe busy lark, the messenger of day,\r\nSaluteth in her song the morning gray;\r\nAnd fiery Phoebus riseth up so bright,\r\nThat all the orient laugheth at the sight,\r\nAnd with his streames* drieth in the greves**             *rays **groves\r\nThe silver droppes, hanging on the leaves;\r\nAnd Arcite, that is in the court royal\r\nWith Theseus, his squier principal,\r\nIs ris\u2019n, and looketh on the merry day.\r\nAnd for to do his observance to May,\r\nRemembering the point* of his desire,                            *object\r\nHe on his courser, starting as the fire,\r\nIs ridden to the fieldes him to play,\r\nOut of the court, were it a mile or tway.\r\nAnd to the grove, of which I have you told,\r\nBy a venture his way began to hold,\r\nTo make him a garland of the greves*,                            *groves\r\nWere it of woodbine, or of hawthorn leaves,\r\nAnd loud he sang against the sun so sheen*.              *shining bright\r\n\u201cO May, with all thy flowers and thy green,\r\nRight welcome be thou, faire freshe May,\r\nI hope that I some green here getten may.\u201d\r\nAnd from his courser*, with a lusty heart,                        *horse\r\nInto the grove full hastily he start,\r\nAnd in a path he roamed up and down,\r\nThere as by aventure this Palamon\r\nWas in a bush, that no man might him see,\r\nFor sore afeard of his death was he.\r\nNothing ne knew he that it was Arcite;\r\nGod wot he would have *trowed it full lite*.   *full little believed it*\r\nBut sooth is said, gone since full many years,\r\nThe field hath eyen*, and the wood hath ears,                      *eyes\r\nIt is full fair a man *to bear him even*,           *to be on his guard*\r\nFor all day meeten men at *unset steven*.          *unexpected time <27>\r\nFull little wot Arcite of his fellaw,\r\nThat was so nigh to hearken of his saw*,                 *saying, speech\r\nFor in the bush he sitteth now full still.\r\nWhen that Arcite had roamed all his fill,\r\nAnd *sungen all the roundel* lustily,           *sang the roundelay*<28>\r\nInto a study he fell suddenly,\r\nAs do those lovers in their *quainte gears*,              *odd fashions*\r\nNow in the crop*, and now down in the breres**, <29>           *tree-top\r\nNow up, now down, as bucket in a well.                          **briars\r\nRight as the Friday, soothly for to tell,\r\nNow shineth it, and now it raineth fast,\r\nRight so can geary* Venus overcast                            *changeful\r\nThe heartes of her folk, right as her day\r\nIs gearful*, right so changeth she array.                     *changeful\r\nSeldom is Friday all the weeke like.\r\nWhen Arcite had y-sung, he gan to sike*,                           *sigh\r\nAnd sat him down withouten any more:\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201cthe day that I was bore!\r\nHow longe, Juno, through thy cruelty\r\nWilt thou warrayen* Thebes the city?                            *torment\r\nAlas! y-brought is to confusion\r\nThe blood royal of Cadm\u2019 and Amphion:\r\nOf Cadmus, which that was the firste man,\r\nThat Thebes built, or first the town began,\r\nAnd of the city first was crowned king.\r\nOf his lineage am I, and his offspring\r\nBy very line, as of the stock royal;\r\nAnd now I am *so caitiff and so thrall*,         *wretched and enslaved*\r\nThat he that is my mortal enemy,\r\nI serve him as his squier poorely.\r\nAnd yet doth Juno me well more shame,\r\nFor I dare not beknow* mine owen name,                 *acknowledge <30>\r\nBut there as I was wont to hight Arcite,\r\nNow hight I Philostrate, not worth a mite.\r\nAlas! thou fell Mars, and alas! Juno,\r\nThus hath your ire our lineage all fordo*                *undone, ruined\r\nSave only me, and wretched Palamon,\r\nThat Theseus martyreth in prison.\r\nAnd over all this, to slay me utterly,\r\nLove hath his fiery dart so brenningly*                       *burningly\r\nY-sticked through my true careful heart,\r\nThat shapen was my death erst than my shert. <31>\r\nYe slay me with your eyen, Emily;\r\nYe be the cause wherefore that I die.\r\nOf all the remnant of mine other care\r\nNe set I not the *mountance of a tare*,               *value of a straw*\r\nSo that I could do aught to your pleasance.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word he fell down in a trance\r\nA longe time; and afterward upstart\r\nThis Palamon, that thought thorough his heart\r\nHe felt a cold sword suddenly to glide:\r\nFor ire he quoke*, no longer would he hide.                      *quaked\r\nAnd when that he had heard Arcite\u2019s tale,\r\nAs he were wood*, with face dead and pale,                          *mad\r\nHe start him up out of the bushes thick,\r\nAnd said: \u201cFalse Arcita, false traitor wick\u2019*,                   *wicked\r\nNow art thou hent*, that lov\u2019st my lady so,                      *caught\r\nFor whom that I have all this pain and woe,\r\nAnd art my blood, and to my counsel sworn,\r\nAs I full oft have told thee herebeforn,\r\nAnd hast bejaped* here Duke Theseus,             *deceived, imposed upon\r\nAnd falsely changed hast thy name thus;\r\nI will be dead, or elles thou shalt die.\r\nThou shalt not love my lady Emily,\r\nBut I will love her only and no mo\u2019;\r\nFor I am Palamon thy mortal foe.\r\nAnd though I have no weapon in this place,\r\nBut out of prison am astart* by grace,                          *escaped\r\nI dreade* not that either thou shalt die,                         *doubt\r\nOr else thou shalt not loven Emily.\r\nChoose which thou wilt, for thou shalt not astart.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis Arcite then, with full dispiteous* heart,                 *wrathful\r\nWhen he him knew, and had his tale heard,\r\nAs fierce as lion pulled out a swerd,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cBy God that sitt\u2019th above,\r\n*N\u2019ere it* that thou art sick, and wood for love,          *were it not*\r\nAnd eke that thou no weap\u2019n hast in this place,\r\nThou should\u2019st never out of this grove pace,\r\nThat thou ne shouldest dien of mine hand.\r\nFor I defy the surety and the band,\r\nWhich that thou sayest I have made to thee.\r\nWhat? very fool, think well that love is free;\r\nAnd I will love her maugre* all thy might.                      *despite\r\nBut, for thou art a worthy gentle knight,\r\nAnd *wilnest to darraine her by bataille*,             *will reclaim her\r\nHave here my troth, to-morrow I will not fail,                by combat*\r\nWithout weeting* of any other wight,                          *knowledge\r\nThat here I will be founden as a knight,\r\nAnd bringe harness* right enough for thee;              *armour and arms\r\nAnd choose the best, and leave the worst for me.\r\nAnd meat and drinke this night will I bring\r\nEnough for thee, and clothes for thy bedding.\r\nAnd if so be that thou my lady win,\r\nAnd slay me in this wood that I am in,\r\nThou may\u2019st well have thy lady as for me.\u201d\r\nThis Palamon answer\u2019d, \u201cI grant it thee.\u201d\r\nAnd thus they be departed till the morrow,\r\nWhen each of them hath *laid his faith to borrow*.   *pledged his faith*\r\n\r\nO Cupid, out of alle charity!\r\nO Regne* that wilt no fellow have with thee!                 *queen <32>\r\nFull sooth is said, that love nor lordeship\r\nWill not, *his thanks*, have any fellowship.             *thanks to him*\r\nWell finden that Arcite and Palamon.\r\nArcite is ridd anon unto the town,\r\nAnd on the morrow, ere it were daylight,\r\nFull privily two harness hath he dight*,                       *prepared\r\nBoth suffisant and meete to darraine*                           *contest\r\nThe battle in the field betwixt them twain.\r\nAnd on his horse, alone as he was born,\r\nHe carrieth all this harness him beforn;\r\nAnd in the grove, at time and place y-set,\r\nThis Arcite and this Palamon be met.\r\nThen change gan the colour of their face;\r\nRight as the hunter in the regne* of Thrace                     *kingdom\r\nThat standeth at a gappe with a spear\r\nWhen hunted is the lion or the bear,\r\nAnd heareth him come rushing in the greves*,                     *groves\r\nAnd breaking both the boughes and the leaves,\r\nThinketh, \u201cHere comes my mortal enemy,\r\nWithoute fail, he must be dead or I;\r\nFor either I must slay him at the gap;\r\nOr he must slay me, if that me mishap:\u201d\r\nSo fared they, in changing of their hue\r\n*As far as either of them other knew*.        *When they recognised each\r\nThere was no good day, and no saluting,                  other afar off*\r\nBut straight, withoute wordes rehearsing,\r\nEvereach of them holp to arm the other,\r\nAs friendly, as he were his owen brother.\r\nAnd after that, with sharpe speares strong\r\nThey foined* each at other wonder long.                          *thrust\r\nThou mightest weene*, that this Palamon                           *think\r\nIn fighting were as a wood* lion,                                   *mad\r\nAnd as a cruel tiger was Arcite:\r\nAs wilde boars gan they together smite,\r\nThat froth as white as foam, *for ire wood*.            *mad with anger*\r\nUp to the ancle fought they in their blood.\r\nAnd in this wise I let them fighting dwell,\r\nAnd forth I will of Theseus you tell.\r\n\r\nThe Destiny, minister general,\r\nThat executeth in the world o\u2019er all\r\nThe purveyance*, that God hath seen beforn;              *foreordination\r\nSo strong it is, that though the world had sworn\r\nThe contrary of a thing by yea or nay,\r\nYet some time it shall fallen on a day\r\nThat falleth not eft* in a thousand year.                         *again\r\nFor certainly our appetites here,\r\nBe it of war, or peace, or hate, or love,\r\nAll is this ruled by the sight* above.         *eye, intelligence, power\r\nThis mean I now by mighty Theseus,\r\nThat for to hunten is so desirous \u2014\r\nAnd namely* the greate hart in May \u2014                        *especially\r\nThat in his bed there dawneth him no day\r\nThat he n\u2019is clad, and ready for to ride\r\nWith hunt and horn, and houndes him beside.\r\nFor in his hunting hath he such delight,\r\nThat it is all his joy and appetite\r\nTo be himself the greate harte\u2019s bane*                      *destruction\r\nFor after Mars he serveth now Diane.\r\nClear was the day, as I have told ere this,\r\nAnd Theseus, with alle joy and bliss,\r\nWith his Hippolyta, the faire queen,\r\nAnd Emily, y-clothed all in green,\r\nOn hunting be they ridden royally.\r\nAnd to the grove, that stood there faste by,\r\nIn which there was an hart, as men him told,\r\nDuke Theseus the straighte way doth hold,\r\nAnd to the laund* he rideth him full right,                  *plain <33>\r\nThere was the hart y-wont to have his flight,\r\nAnd over a brook, and so forth on his way.\r\nThis Duke will have a course at him or tway\r\nWith houndes, such as him lust* to command.                     *pleased\r\nAnd when this Duke was come to the laund,\r\nUnder the sun he looked, and anon\r\nHe was ware of Arcite and Palamon,\r\nThat foughte breme*, as it were bulles two.                    *fiercely\r\nThe brighte swordes wente to and fro\r\nSo hideously, that with the leaste stroke\r\nIt seemed that it woulde fell an oak,\r\nBut what they were, nothing yet he wote*.                          *knew\r\nThis Duke his courser with his spurres smote,\r\n*And at a start* he was betwixt them two,                     *suddenly*\r\nAnd pulled out a sword and cried, \u201cHo!\r\nNo more, on pain of losing of your head.\r\nBy mighty Mars, he shall anon be dead\r\nThat smiteth any stroke, that I may see!\r\nBut tell to me what mister* men ye be,                *manner, kind <34>\r\nThat be so hardy for to fighte here\r\nWithoute judge or other officer,\r\nAs though it were in listes royally. <35>\r\nThis Palamon answered hastily,\r\nAnd saide: \u201cSir, what needeth wordes mo\u2019?\r\nWe have the death deserved bothe two,\r\nTwo woful wretches be we, and caitives,\r\nThat be accumbered* of our own lives,                          *burdened\r\nAnd as thou art a rightful lord and judge,\r\nSo give us neither mercy nor refuge.\r\nAnd slay me first, for sainte charity,\r\nBut slay my fellow eke as well as me.\r\nOr slay him first; for, though thou know it lite*,               *little\r\nThis is thy mortal foe, this is Arcite\r\nThat from thy land is banisht on his head,\r\nFor which he hath deserved to be dead.\r\nFor this is he that came unto thy gate\r\nAnd saide, that he highte Philostrate.\r\nThus hath he japed* thee full many year,                       *deceived\r\nAnd thou hast made of him thy chief esquier;\r\nAnd this is he, that loveth Emily.\r\nFor since the day is come that I shall die\r\nI make pleinly* my confession,                      *fully, unreservedly\r\nThat I am thilke* woful Palamon,                         *that same <36>\r\nThat hath thy prison broken wickedly.\r\nI am thy mortal foe, and it am I\r\nThat so hot loveth Emily the bright,\r\nThat I would die here present in her sight.\r\nTherefore I aske death and my jewise*.                        *judgement\r\nBut slay my fellow eke in the same wise,\r\nFor both we have deserved to be slain.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis worthy Duke answer\u2019d anon again,\r\nAnd said, \u201cThis is a short conclusion.\r\nYour own mouth, by your own confession\r\nHath damned you, and I will it record;\r\nIt needeth not to pain you with the cord;\r\nYe shall be dead, by mighty Mars the Red.<37>\r\n\r\nThe queen anon for very womanhead\r\nBegan to weep, and so did Emily,\r\nAnd all the ladies in the company.\r\nGreat pity was it as it thought them all,\r\nThat ever such a chance should befall,\r\nFor gentle men they were, of great estate,\r\nAnd nothing but for love was this debate\r\nThey saw their bloody woundes wide and sore,\r\nAnd cried all at once, both less and more,\r\n\u201cHave mercy, Lord, upon us women all.\u201d\r\nAnd on their bare knees adown they fall\r\nAnd would have kissed his feet there as he stood,\r\nTill at the last *aslaked was his mood*                   *his anger was\r\n(For pity runneth soon in gentle heart);                       appeased*\r\nAnd though at first for ire he quoke and start\r\nHe hath consider\u2019d shortly in a clause\r\nThe trespass of them both, and eke the cause:\r\nAnd although that his ire their guilt accused\r\nYet in his reason he them both excused;\r\nAs thus; he thoughte well that every man\r\nWill help himself in love if that he can,\r\nAnd eke deliver himself out of prison.\r\nOf women, for they wepten ever-in-one:*                     *continually\r\nAnd eke his hearte had compassion\r\nAnd in his gentle heart he thought anon,\r\nAnd soft unto himself he saide: \u201cFie\r\nUpon a lord that will have no mercy,\r\nBut be a lion both in word and deed,\r\nTo them that be in repentance and dread,\r\nAs well as-to a proud dispiteous* man                         *unpitying\r\nThat will maintaine what he first began.\r\nThat lord hath little of discretion,\r\nThat in such case *can no division*:           *can make no distinction*\r\nBut weigheth pride and humbless *after one*.\u201d                    *alike*\r\nAnd shortly, when his ire is thus agone,\r\nHe gan to look on them with eyen light*,               *gentle, lenient*\r\nAnd spake these same wordes *all on height.*                     *aloud*\r\n\r\n\u201cThe god of love, ah! benedicite*,                         *bless ye him\r\nHow mighty and how great a lord is he!\r\nAgainst his might there gaine* none obstacles,           *avail, conquer\r\nHe may be called a god for his miracles\r\nFor he can maken at his owen guise\r\nOf every heart, as that him list devise.\r\nLo here this Arcite, and this Palamon,\r\nThat quietly were out of my prison,\r\nAnd might have lived in Thebes royally,\r\nAnd weet* I am their mortal enemy,                                 *knew\r\nAnd that their death li\u2019th in my might also,\r\nAnd yet hath love, *maugre their eyen two*,     *in spite of their eyes*\r\nY-brought them hither bothe for to die.\r\nNow look ye, is not this an high folly?\r\nWho may not be a fool, if but he love?\r\nBehold, for Godde\u2019s sake that sits above,\r\nSee how they bleed! be they not well array\u2019d?\r\nThus hath their lord, the god of love, them paid\r\nTheir wages and their fees for their service;\r\nAnd yet they weene for to be full wise,\r\nThat serve love, for aught that may befall.\r\nBut this is yet the beste game* of all,                            *joke\r\nThat she, for whom they have this jealousy,\r\nCan them therefor as muchel thank as me.\r\nShe wot no more of all this *hote fare*,                 *hot behaviour*\r\nBy God, than wot a cuckoo or an hare.\r\nBut all must be assayed hot or cold;\r\nA man must be a fool, or young or old;\r\nI wot it by myself *full yore agone*:                   *long years ago*\r\nFor in my time a servant was I one.\r\nAnd therefore since I know of love\u2019s pain,\r\nAnd wot how sore it can a man distrain*,                       *distress\r\nAs he that oft hath been caught in his last*,                *snare <38>\r\nI you forgive wholly this trespass,\r\nAt request of the queen that kneeleth here,\r\nAnd eke of Emily, my sister dear.\r\nAnd ye shall both anon unto me swear,\r\nThat never more ye shall my country dere*                        *injure\r\nNor make war upon me night nor day,\r\nBut be my friends in alle that ye may.\r\nI you forgive this trespass *every deal*.                   *completely*\r\nAnd they him sware *his asking* fair and well,           *what he asked*\r\nAnd him of lordship and of mercy pray\u2019d,\r\nAnd he them granted grace, and thus he said:\r\n\r\n\u201cTo speak of royal lineage and richess,\r\nThough that she were a queen or a princess,\r\nEach of you both is worthy doubteless\r\nTo wedde when time is; but natheless\r\nI speak as for my sister Emily,\r\nFor whom ye have this strife and jealousy,\r\nYe wot* yourselves, she may not wed the two                        *know\r\nAt once, although ye fight for evermo:\r\nBut one of you, *all be him loth or lief,*    *whether or not he wishes*\r\nHe must *go pipe into an ivy leaf*:                       *\u201cgo whistle\u201d*\r\nThis is to say, she may not have you both,\r\nAll be ye never so jealous, nor so wroth.\r\nAnd therefore I you put in this degree,\r\nThat each of you shall have his destiny\r\nAs *him is shape*; and hearken in what wise      *as is decreed for him*\r\nLo hear your end of that I shall devise.\r\nMy will is this, for plain conclusion\r\nWithouten any replication*,                                       *reply\r\nIf that you liketh, take it for the best,\r\nThat evereach of you shall go where *him lest*,              *he pleases\r\nFreely without ransom or danger;\r\nAnd this day fifty weekes, *farre ne nerre*,     *neither more nor less*\r\nEvereach of you shall bring an hundred knights,\r\nArmed for listes up at alle rights\r\nAll ready to darraine* her by bataille,                     *contend for\r\nAnd this behete* I you withoute fail                            *promise\r\nUpon my troth, and as I am a knight,\r\nThat whether of you bothe that hath might,\r\nThat is to say, that whether he or thou\r\nMay with his hundred, as I spake of now,\r\nSlay his contrary, or out of listes drive,\r\nHim shall I given Emily to wive,\r\nTo whom that fortune gives so fair a grace.\r\nThe listes shall I make here in this place.\r\n*And God so wisly on my soule rue*,              *may God as surely have\r\nAs I shall even judge be and true.                     mercy on my soul*\r\nYe shall none other ende with me maken\r\nThan one of you shalle be dead or taken.\r\nAnd if you thinketh this is well y-said,\r\nSay your advice*, and hold yourselves apaid**.      *opinion **satisfied\r\nThis is your end, and your conclusion.\u201d\r\nWho looketh lightly now but Palamon?\r\nWho springeth up for joye but Arcite?\r\nWho could it tell, or who could it indite,\r\nThe joye that is maked in the place\r\nWhen Theseus hath done so fair a grace?\r\nBut down on knees went every *manner wight*,            *kind of person*\r\nAnd thanked him with all their heartes\u2019 might,\r\nAnd namely* these Thebans *ofte sithe*.         *especially *oftentimes*\r\nAnd thus with good hope and with hearte blithe\r\nThey take their leave, and homeward gan they ride\r\nTo Thebes-ward, with his old walles wide.\r\n\r\nI trow men woulde deem it negligence,\r\nIf I forgot to telle the dispence*                          *expenditure\r\nOf Theseus, that went so busily\r\nTo maken up the listes royally,\r\nThat such a noble theatre as it was,\r\nI dare well say, in all this world there n\u2019as*.                 *was not\r\nThe circuit a mile was about,\r\nWalled of stone, and ditched all without.\r\n*Round was the shape, in manner of compass,\r\nFull of degrees, the height of sixty pas*               *see note  <39>*\r\nThat when a man was set on one degree\r\nHe letted* not his fellow for to see.                          *hindered\r\nEastward there stood a gate of marble white,\r\nWestward right such another opposite.\r\nAnd, shortly to conclude, such a place\r\nWas never on earth made in so little space,\r\nFor in the land there was no craftes-man,\r\nThat geometry or arsmetrike* can**,                   *arithmetic **knew\r\nNor pourtrayor*, nor carver of images,                 *portrait painter\r\nThat Theseus ne gave him meat and wages\r\nThe theatre to make and to devise.\r\nAnd for to do his rite and sacrifice\r\nHe eastward hath upon the gate above,\r\nIn worship of Venus, goddess of love,\r\n*Done make* an altar and an oratory;                 *caused to be made*\r\nAnd westward, in the mind and in memory\r\nOf Mars, he maked hath right such another,\r\nThat coste largely of gold a fother*.                    *a great amount\r\nAnd northward, in a turret on the wall,\r\nOf alabaster white and red coral\r\nAn oratory riche for to see,\r\nIn worship of Diane of chastity,\r\nHath Theseus done work in noble wise.\r\nBut yet had I forgotten to devise*                             *describe\r\nThe noble carving, and the portraitures,\r\nThe shape, the countenance of the figures\r\nThat weren in there oratories three.\r\n\r\nFirst in the temple of Venus may\u2019st thou see\r\nWrought on the wall,  full piteous to behold,\r\nThe broken sleepes, and the sikes* cold,                         *sighes\r\nThe sacred teares, and the waimentings*,                     *lamentings\r\nThe fiery strokes of the desirings,\r\nThat Love\u2019s servants in this life endure;\r\nThe oathes, that their covenants assure.\r\nPleasance and Hope, Desire, Foolhardiness,\r\nBeauty and Youth, and Bawdry and Richess,\r\nCharms and Sorc\u2019ry, Leasings* and Flattery,                  *falsehoods\r\nDispence, Business, and Jealousy,\r\nThat wore of yellow goldes* a garland,                  *sunflowers <40>\r\nAnd had a cuckoo sitting on her hand,\r\nFeasts, instruments, and caroles and dances,\r\nLust and array, and all the circumstances\r\nOf Love, which I reckon\u2019d and reckon shall\r\nIn order, were painted on the wall,\r\nAnd more than I can make of mention.\r\nFor soothly all the mount of Citheron,<41>\r\nWhere Venus hath her principal dwelling,\r\nWas showed on the wall in pourtraying,\r\nWith all the garden, and the lustiness*.                   *pleasantness\r\nNor was forgot the porter Idleness,\r\nNor Narcissus the fair of *yore agone*,                    *olden times*\r\nNor yet the folly of King Solomon,\r\nNor yet the greate strength of Hercules,\r\nTh\u2019 enchantments of Medea and Circes,\r\nNor of Turnus the hardy fierce courage,\r\nThe rich Croesus *caitif in servage.* <42>         *abased into slavery*\r\nThus may ye see, that wisdom nor richess,\r\nBeauty, nor sleight, nor strength, nor hardiness\r\nNe may with Venus holde champartie*,            *divided possession <43>\r\nFor as her liste the world may she gie*.                          *guide\r\nLo, all these folk so caught were in her las*                     *snare\r\nTill they for woe full often said, Alas!\r\nSuffice these ensamples one or two,\r\nAlthough I could reckon a thousand mo\u2019.\r\n\r\nThe statue of Venus, glorious to see\r\nWas naked floating in the large sea,\r\nAnd from the navel down all cover\u2019d was\r\nWith waves green, and bright as any glass.\r\nA citole <44> in her right hand hadde she,\r\nAnd on her head, full seemly for to see,\r\nA rose garland fresh, and well smelling,\r\nAbove her head her doves flickering\r\nBefore her stood her sone Cupido,\r\nUpon his shoulders winges had he two;\r\nAnd blind he was, as it is often seen;\r\nA bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen.\r\n\r\nWhy should I not as well eke tell you all\r\nThe portraiture, that was upon the wall\r\nWithin the temple of mighty Mars the Red?\r\nAll painted was the wall in length and brede*                   *breadth\r\nLike to the estres* of the grisly place               *interior chambers\r\nThat hight the great temple of Mars in Thrace,\r\nIn thilke* cold and frosty region,                                 *that\r\nThere as Mars hath his sovereign mansion.\r\nIn which there dwelled neither man nor beast,\r\nWith knotty gnarry* barren trees old                            *gnarled\r\nOf stubbes sharp and hideous to behold;\r\nIn which there ran a rumble and a sough*,                *groaning noise\r\nAs though a storm should bursten every bough:\r\nAnd downward from an hill under a bent*                           *slope\r\nThere stood the temple of Mars Armipotent,\r\nWrought all of burnish\u2019d steel, of which th\u2019 entry\r\nWas long and strait, and ghastly for to see.\r\nAnd thereout came *a rage and such a vise*,       *such a furious voice*\r\nThat it made all the gates for to rise.\r\nThe northern light in at the doore shone,\r\nFor window on the walle was there none\r\nThrough which men mighten any light discern.\r\nThe doors were all of adamant etern,\r\nY-clenched *overthwart and ende-long*         *crossways and lengthways*\r\nWith iron tough, and, for to make it strong,\r\nEvery pillar the temple to sustain\r\nWas tunne-great*, of iron bright and sheen.     *thick as a tun (barrel)\r\nThere saw I first the dark imagining\r\nOf felony, and all the compassing;\r\nThe cruel ire, as red as any glede*,                          *live coal\r\nThe picke-purse<45>, and eke the pale dread;\r\nThe smiler with the knife under the cloak,\r\nThe shepen* burning with the blacke smoke                   *stable <46>\r\nThe treason of the murd\u2019ring in the bed,\r\nThe open war, with woundes all be-bled;\r\nConteke* with bloody knife, and sharp menace.       *contention, discord\r\nAll full of chirking* was that sorry place.     *creaking, jarring noise\r\nThe slayer of himself eke saw I there,\r\nHis hearte-blood had bathed all his hair:\r\nThe nail y-driven in the shode* at night,         *hair of the head <47>\r\nThe colde death, with mouth gaping upright.\r\nAmiddes of the temple sat Mischance,\r\nWith discomfort and sorry countenance;\r\nEke saw I Woodness* laughing in his rage,                       *Madness\r\nArmed Complaint, Outhees*, and fierce Outrage;                   *Outcry\r\nThe carrain* in the bush, with throat y-corve**,       *corpse **slashed\r\nA thousand slain, and not *of qualm y-storve*;        *dead of sickness*\r\nThe tyrant, with the prey by force y-reft;\r\nThe town destroy\u2019d, that there was nothing left.\r\nYet saw I brent* the shippes hoppesteres, <48>                    *burnt\r\nThe hunter strangled with the wilde bears:\r\nThe sow freting* the child right in the cradle;          *devouring <49>\r\nThe cook scalded, for all his longe ladle.\r\nNor was forgot, *by th\u2019infortune of Mart*        *through the misfortune\r\nThe carter overridden with his cart;                             of war*\r\nUnder the wheel full low he lay adown.\r\nThere were also of Mars\u2019 division,\r\nThe armourer, the bowyer*, and the smith,                 *maker of bows\r\nThat forgeth sharp swordes on his stith*.                         *anvil\r\nAnd all above depainted in a tower\r\nSaw I Conquest, sitting in great honour,\r\nWith thilke* sharpe sword over his head                            *that\r\nHanging by a subtle y-twined thread.\r\nPainted the slaughter was of Julius<50>,\r\nOf cruel Nero, and Antonius:\r\nAlthough at that time they were yet unborn,\r\nYet was their death depainted there beforn,\r\nBy menacing of Mars, right by figure,\r\nSo was it showed in that portraiture,\r\nAs is depainted in the stars above,\r\nWho shall be slain, or elles dead for love.\r\nSufficeth one ensample in stories old,\r\nI may not reckon them all, though I wo\u2019ld.\r\n\r\nThe statue of Mars upon a carte* stood                          *chariot\r\nArmed, and looked grim as he were wood*,                            *mad\r\nAnd over his head there shone two figures\r\nOf starres, that be cleped in scriptures,\r\nThat one Puella, that other Rubeus. <51>\r\nThis god of armes was arrayed thus:\r\nA wolf there stood before him at his feet\r\nWith eyen red, and of a man he eat:\r\nWith subtle pencil painted was this story,\r\nIn redouting* of Mars and of his glory.                 *reverance, fear\r\n\r\nNow to the temple of Dian the chaste\r\nAs shortly as I can I will me haste,\r\nTo telle you all the descriptioun.\r\nDepainted be the walles up and down\r\nOf hunting and of shamefast chastity.\r\nThere saw I how woful Calistope,<52>\r\nWhen that Dian aggrieved was with her,\r\nWas turned from a woman to a bear,\r\nAnd after was she made the lodestar*:                         *pole star\r\nThus was it painted, I can say no far*;                         *farther\r\nHer son is eke a star as men may see.\r\nThere saw I Dane <53> turn\u2019d into a tree,\r\nI meane not the goddess Diane,\r\nBut Peneus\u2019 daughter, which that hight Dane.\r\nThere saw I Actaeon an hart y-maked*,                              *made\r\nFor vengeance that he saw Dian all naked:\r\nI saw how that his houndes have him caught,\r\nAnd freten* him, for that they knew him not.                     *devour\r\nYet painted was, a little farthermore\r\nHow Atalanta hunted the wild boar;\r\nAnd Meleager, and many other mo\u2019,\r\nFor which Diana wrought them care and woe.\r\nThere saw I many another wondrous story,\r\nThe which me list not drawen to memory.\r\nThis goddess on an hart full high was set*,                      *seated\r\nWith smalle houndes all about her feet,\r\nAnd underneath her feet she had a moon,\r\nWaxing it was, and shoulde wane soon.\r\nIn gaudy green her statue clothed was,\r\nWith bow in hand, and arrows in a case*.                         *quiver\r\nHer eyen caste she full low adown,\r\nWhere Pluto hath his darke regioun.\r\nA woman travailing was her beforn,\r\nBut, for her child so longe was unborn,\r\nFull piteously Lucina <54> gan she call,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cHelp, for thou may\u2019st best of all.\u201d\r\nWell could he painte lifelike that it wrought;\r\nWith many a florin he the hues had bought.\r\nNow be these listes made, and Theseus,\r\nThat at his greate cost arrayed thus\r\nThe temples, and the theatre every deal*,                     *part <55>\r\nWhen it was done, him liked wonder well.\r\n\r\nBut stint* I will of Theseus a lite**,          *cease speaking **little\r\nAnd speak of Palamon and of Arcite.\r\nThe day approacheth of their returning,\r\nThat evereach an hundred knights should bring,\r\nThe battle to darraine* as I you told;                          *contest\r\nAnd to Athens, their covenant to hold,\r\nHath ev\u2019reach of them brought an hundred knights,\r\nWell-armed for the war at alle rights.\r\nAnd sickerly* there trowed** many a man,         *surely <56> **believed\r\nThat never, sithen* that the world began,                         *since\r\nFor to speaken of knighthood of their hand,\r\nAs far as God hath maked sea and land,\r\nWas, of so few, so noble a company.\r\nFor every wight that loved chivalry,\r\nAnd would, *his thankes, have a passant name*,        *thanks to his own\r\nHad prayed, that he might be of that game,               efforts, have a\r\nAnd well was him, that thereto chosen was.              surpassing name*\r\nFor if there fell to-morrow such a case,\r\nYe knowe well, that every lusty knight,\r\nThat loveth par amour, and hath his might\r\nWere it in Engleland, or elleswhere,\r\nThey would, their thankes, willen to be there,\r\nT\u2019 fight for a lady; Benedicite,\r\nIt were a lusty* sighte for to see.                            *pleasing\r\nAnd right so fared they with Palamon;\r\nWith him there wente knightes many one.\r\nSome will be armed in an habergeon,\r\nAnd in a breast-plate, and in a gipon*;                  *short doublet.\r\nAnd some will have *a pair of plates* large;     *back and front armour*\r\nAnd some will have a Prusse* shield, or targe;                 *Prussian\r\nSome will be armed on their legges weel;\r\nSome have an axe, and some a mace of steel.\r\nThere is no newe guise*, but it was old.                        *fashion\r\nArmed they weren, as I have you told,\r\nEvereach after his opinion.\r\nThere may\u2019st thou see coming with Palamon\r\nLicurgus himself, the great king of Thrace:\r\nBlack was his beard, and manly was his face.\r\nThe circles of his eyen in his head\r\nThey glowed betwixte yellow and red,\r\nAnd like a griffin looked he about,\r\nWith kemped* haires on his browes stout;                     *combed<57>\r\nHis limbs were great, his brawns were hard and strong,\r\nHis shoulders broad, his armes round and long.\r\nAnd as the guise* was in his country,                           *fashion\r\nFull high upon a car of gold stood he,\r\nWith foure white bulles in the trace.\r\nInstead of coat-armour on his harness,\r\nWith yellow nails, and bright as any gold,\r\nHe had a beare\u2019s skin, coal-black for old*.                         *age\r\nHis long hair was y-kempt behind his back,\r\nAs any raven\u2019s feather it shone for black.\r\nA wreath of gold *arm-great*, of huge weight,     *thick as a man\u2019s arm*\r\nUpon his head sate, full of stones bright,\r\nOf fine rubies and clear diamants.\r\nAbout his car there wente white alauns*,                *greyhounds <58>\r\nTwenty and more, as great as any steer,\r\nTo hunt the lion or the wilde bear,\r\nAnd follow\u2019d him, with muzzle fast y-bound,\r\nCollars of gold, and torettes* filed round.                       *rings\r\nAn hundred lordes had he in his rout*                           *retinue\r\nArmed full well, with heartes stern and stout.\r\n\r\nWith Arcita, in stories as men find,\r\nThe great Emetrius the king of Ind,\r\nUpon a *steede bay* trapped in steel,                        *bay horse*\r\nCover\u2019d with cloth of gold diapred* well,                     *decorated\r\nCame riding like the god of armes, Mars.\r\nHis coat-armour was of *a cloth of Tars*,               *a kind of silk*\r\nCouched* with pearls white and round and great                  *trimmed\r\nHis saddle was of burnish\u2019d gold new beat;\r\nA mantelet on his shoulders hanging,\r\nBretful* of rubies red, as fire sparkling.                      *brimful\r\nHis crispe hair like ringes was y-run,\r\nAnd that was yellow, glittering as the sun.\r\nHis nose was high, his eyen bright citrine*,                *pale yellow\r\nHis lips were round, his colour was sanguine,\r\nA fewe fracknes* in his face y-sprent**,           *freckles **sprinkled\r\nBetwixte yellow and black somedeal y-ment*                   *mixed <59>\r\nAnd as a lion he *his looking cast*                *cast about his eyes*\r\nOf five and twenty year his age I cast*                          *reckon\r\nHis beard was well begunnen for to spring;\r\nHis voice was as a trumpet thundering.\r\nUpon his head he wore of laurel green\r\nA garland fresh and lusty to be seen;\r\nUpon his hand he bare, for his delight,\r\nAn eagle tame, as any lily white.\r\nAn hundred lordes had he with him there,\r\nAll armed, save their heads, in all their gear,\r\nFull richely in alle manner things.\r\nFor trust ye well, that earles, dukes, and kings\r\nWere gather\u2019d in this noble company,\r\nFor love, and for increase of chivalry.\r\nAbout this king there ran on every part\r\nFull many a tame lion and leopart.\r\nAnd in this wise these lordes *all and some*            *all and sundry*\r\nBe on the Sunday to the city come\r\nAboute prime<60>, and in the town alight.\r\n\r\nThis Theseus, this Duke, this worthy knight\r\nWhen he had brought them into his city,\r\nAnd inned* them, ev\u2019reach at his degree,                         *lodged\r\nHe feasteth them, and doth so great labour\r\nTo *easen them*, and do them all honour,         *make them comfortable*\r\nThat yet men weene* that no mannes wit                            *think\r\nOf none estate could amenden* it.                               *improve\r\nThe minstrelsy, the service at the feast,\r\nThe greate giftes to the most and least,\r\nThe rich array of Theseus\u2019 palace,\r\nNor who sate first or last upon the dais.<61>\r\nWhat ladies fairest be, or best dancing\r\nOr which of them can carol best or sing,\r\nOr who most feelingly speaketh of love;\r\nWhat hawkes sitten on the perch above,\r\nWhat houndes liggen* on the floor adown,                            *lie\r\nOf all this now make I no mentioun\r\nBut of th\u2019effect; that thinketh me the best\r\nNow comes the point, and hearken if you lest.*                   *please\r\n\r\nThe Sunday night, ere day began to spring,\r\nWhen Palamon the larke hearde sing,\r\nAlthough it were not day by houres two,\r\nYet sang the lark, and Palamon right tho*                          *then\r\nWith holy heart, and with an high courage,\r\nArose, to wenden* on his pilgrimage                                  *go\r\nUnto the blissful Cithera benign,\r\nI meane Venus, honourable and digne*.                            *worthy\r\nAnd in her hour <62> he walketh forth a pace\r\nUnto the listes, where her temple was,\r\nAnd down he kneeleth, and with humble cheer*                  *demeanour\r\nAnd hearte sore, he said as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cFairest of fair, O lady mine Venus,\r\nDaughter to Jove, and spouse of Vulcanus,\r\nThou gladder of the mount of Citheron!<41>\r\nFor thilke love thou haddest to Adon <63>\r\nHave pity on my bitter teares smart,\r\nAnd take mine humble prayer to thine heart.\r\nAlas! I have no language to tell\r\nTh\u2019effecte, nor the torment of mine hell;\r\nMine hearte may mine harmes not betray;\r\nI am so confused, that I cannot say.\r\nBut mercy, lady bright, that knowest well\r\nMy thought, and seest what harm that I feel.\r\nConsider all this, and *rue upon* my sore,                *take pity on*\r\nAs wisly* as I shall for evermore                                 *truly\r\nEnforce my might, thy true servant to be,\r\nAnd holde war alway with chastity:\r\nThat make I mine avow*, so ye me help.                     *vow, promise\r\nI keepe not of armes for to yelp,*                                *boast\r\nNor ask I not to-morrow to have victory,\r\nNor renown in this case, nor vaine glory\r\nOf *prize of armes*, blowing up and down,            *praise for valour*\r\nBut I would have fully possessioun\r\nOf Emily, and die in her service;\r\nFind thou the manner how, and in what wise.\r\nI *recke not but* it may better be                 *do not know whether*\r\nTo have vict\u2019ry of them, or they of me,\r\nSo that I have my lady in mine arms.\r\nFor though so be that Mars is god of arms,\r\nYour virtue is so great in heaven above,\r\nThat, if you list, I shall well have my love.\r\nThy temple will I worship evermo\u2019,\r\nAnd on thine altar, where I ride or go,\r\nI will do sacrifice, and fires bete*.                      *make, kindle\r\nAnd if ye will not so, my lady sweet,\r\nThen pray I you, to-morrow with a spear\r\nThat Arcita me through the hearte bear\r\nThen reck I not, when I have lost my life,\r\nThough that Arcita win her to his wife.\r\nThis is th\u2019 effect and end of my prayere, \u2014\r\nGive me my love, thou blissful lady dear.\u201d\r\nWhen th\u2019 orison was done of Palamon,\r\nHis sacrifice he did, and that anon,\r\nFull piteously, with alle circumstances,\r\n*All tell I not as now* his observances.       *although I tell not now*\r\nBut at the last the statue of Venus shook,\r\nAnd made a signe, whereby that he took\r\nThat his prayer accepted was that day.\r\nFor though the signe shewed a delay,\r\nYet wist he well that granted was his boon;\r\nAnd with glad heart he went him home full soon.\r\n\r\nThe third hour unequal <64>  that Palamon\r\nBegan to Venus\u2019 temple for to gon,\r\nUp rose the sun, and up rose Emily,\r\nAnd to the temple of Dian gan hie.\r\nHer maidens, that she thither with her lad*,                        *led\r\nTh\u2019 incense, the clothes, and the remnant all\r\nThat to the sacrifice belonge shall,\r\nThe hornes full of mead, as was the guise;\r\nThere lacked nought to do her sacrifice.\r\nSmoking* the temple full of clothes fair,                  *draping <65>\r\nThis Emily with hearte debonnair*                                *gentle\r\nHer body wash\u2019d with water of a well.\r\nBut how she did her rite I dare not tell;\r\nBut* it be any thing in general;                                 *unless\r\nAnd yet it were a game* to hearen all                          *pleasure\r\nTo him that meaneth well it were no charge:\r\nBut it is good a man to *be at large*.                   *do as he will*\r\nHer bright hair combed was, untressed all.\r\nA coronet of green oak cerriall <66>\r\nUpon her head was set full fair and meet.\r\nTwo fires on the altar gan she bete,\r\nAnd did her thinges, as men may behold\r\nIn Stace of Thebes <67>, and these bookes old.\r\nWhen kindled was the fire, with piteous cheer\r\nUnto Dian she spake as ye may hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cO chaste goddess of the woodes green,\r\nTo whom both heav\u2019n and earth and sea is seen,\r\nQueen of the realm of Pluto dark and low,\r\nGoddess of maidens, that mine heart hast know\r\nFull many a year, and wost* what I desire,                      *knowest\r\nTo keep me from the vengeance of thine ire,\r\nThat Actaeon aboughte* cruelly:                   *earned; suffered from\r\nChaste goddess, well wottest thou that I\r\nDesire to be a maiden all my life,\r\nNor never will I be no love nor wife.\r\nI am, thou wost*, yet of thy company,                           *knowest\r\nA maid, and love hunting and venery*,                      *field sports\r\nAnd for to walken in the woodes wild,\r\nAnd not to be a wife, and be with child.\r\nNought will I know the company of man.\r\nNow help me, lady, since ye may and can,\r\nFor those three formes <68> that thou hast in thee.\r\nAnd Palamon, that hath such love to me,\r\nAnd eke Arcite, that loveth me so sore,\r\nThis grace I pray thee withoute more,\r\nAs sende love and peace betwixt them two:\r\nAnd from me turn away their heartes so,\r\nThat all their hote love, and their desire,\r\nAnd all their busy torment, and their fire,\r\nBe queint*, or turn\u2019d into another place.                      *quenched\r\nAnd if so be thou wilt do me no grace,\r\nOr if my destiny be shapen so\r\nThat I shall needes have one of them two,\r\nSo send me him that most desireth me.\r\nBehold, goddess of cleane chastity,\r\nThe bitter tears that on my cheekes fall.\r\nSince thou art maid, and keeper of us all,\r\nMy maidenhead thou keep and well conserve,\r\nAnd, while I live, a maid I will thee serve.\r\n\r\nThe fires burn upon the altar clear,\r\nWhile Emily was thus in her prayere:\r\nBut suddenly she saw a sighte quaint*.                          *strange\r\nFor right anon one of the fire\u2019s *queint\r\nAnd quick\u2019d* again, and after that anon           *went out and revived*\r\nThat other fire was queint, and all agone:\r\nAnd as it queint, it made a whisteling,\r\nAs doth a brande wet in its burning.\r\nAnd at the brandes end outran anon\r\nAs it were bloody droppes many one:\r\nFor which so sore aghast was Emily,\r\nThat she was well-nigh mad, and gan to cry,\r\nFor she ne wiste what it signified;\r\nBut onely for feare thus she cried,\r\nAnd wept, that it was pity for to hear.\r\nAnd therewithal Diana gan appear\r\nWith bow in hand, right as an hunteress,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cDaughter, stint* thine heaviness.                     *cease\r\nAmong the goddes high it is affirm\u2019d,\r\nAnd by eternal word writ and confirm\u2019d,\r\nThou shalt be wedded unto one of tho*                             *those\r\nThat have for thee so muche care and woe:\r\nBut unto which of them I may not tell.\r\nFarewell, for here I may no longer dwell.\r\nThe fires which that on mine altar brenn*,                         *burn\r\nShall thee declaren, ere that thou go henne*,                     *hence\r\nThine aventure of love, as in this case.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word, the arrows in the case*                      *quiver\r\nOf the goddess did clatter fast and ring,\r\nAnd forth she went, and made a vanishing,\r\nFor which this Emily astonied was,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cWhat amounteth this, alas!\r\nI put me under thy protection,\r\nDiane, and in thy disposition.\u201d\r\nAnd home she went anon the nexte* way.                          *nearest\r\nThis is th\u2019 effect, there is no more to say.\r\n\r\nThe nexte hour of Mars following this\r\nArcite to the temple walked is\r\nOf fierce Mars, to do his sacrifice\r\nWith all the rites of his pagan guise.\r\nWith piteous* heart and high devotion                             *pious\r\nRight thus to Mars he said his orison\r\n\u201cO stronge god, that in the regnes* old                          *realms\r\nOf Thrace honoured art, and lord y-hold*                           *held\r\nAnd hast in every regne, and every land\r\nOf armes all the bridle in thine hand,\r\nAnd *them fortunest as thee list devise*,             *send them fortune\r\nAccept of me my piteous sacrifice.                        as you please*\r\nIf so be that my youthe may deserve,\r\nAnd that my might be worthy for to serve\r\nThy godhead, that I may be one of thine,\r\nThen pray I thee to *rue upon my pine*,                *pity my anguish*\r\nFor thilke* pain, and thilke hote fire,                            *that\r\nIn which thou whilom burned\u2019st for desire\r\nWhenne that thou usedest* the beauty                            *enjoyed\r\nOf faire young Venus, fresh and free,\r\nAnd haddest her in armes at thy will:\r\nAnd though thee ones on a time misfill*,                   *were unlucky\r\nWhen Vulcanus had caught thee in his las*,                     *net <69>\r\nAnd found thee ligging* by his wife, alas!                        *lying\r\nFor thilke sorrow that was in thine heart,\r\nHave ruth* as well upon my paine\u2019s smart.                          *pity\r\nI am young and unconning*, as thou know\u2019st,            *ignorant, simple\r\nAnd, as I trow*, with love offended most                        *believe\r\nThat e\u2019er was any living creature:\r\nFor she, that doth* me all this woe endure,                      *causes\r\nNe recketh ne\u2019er whether I sink or fleet*                          *swim\r\nAnd well I wot, ere she me mercy hete*,              *promise, vouchsafe\r\nI must with strengthe win her in the place:\r\nAnd well I wot, withoute help or grace\r\nOf thee, ne may my strengthe not avail:\r\nThen help me, lord, to-morr\u2019w in my bataille,\r\nFor thilke fire that whilom burned thee,\r\nAs well as this fire that now burneth me;\r\nAnd do* that I to-morr\u2019w may have victory.                        *cause\r\nMine be the travail, all thine be the glory.\r\nThy sovereign temple will I most honour\r\nOf any place, and alway most labour\r\nIn thy pleasance and in thy craftes strong.\r\nAnd in thy temple I will my banner hong*,                          *hang\r\nAnd all the armes of my company,\r\nAnd evermore, until that day I die,\r\nEternal fire I will before thee find\r\nAnd eke to this my vow I will me bind:\r\nMy beard, my hair that hangeth long adown,\r\nThat never yet hath felt offension*                           *indignity\r\nOf razor nor of shears, I will thee give,\r\nAnd be thy true servant while I live.\r\nNow, lord, have ruth upon my sorrows sore,\r\nGive me the victory, I ask no more.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe prayer stint* of Arcita the strong,                           *ended\r\nThe ringes on the temple door that hong,\r\nAnd eke the doores, clattered full fast,\r\nOf which Arcita somewhat was aghast.\r\nThe fires burn\u2019d upon the altar bright,\r\nThat it gan all the temple for to light;\r\nA sweete smell anon the ground up gaf*,                            *gave\r\nAnd Arcita anon his hand up haf*,                                *lifted\r\nAnd more incense into the fire he cast,\r\nWith other rites more and at the last\r\nThe statue of Mars began his hauberk ring;\r\nAnd with that sound he heard a murmuring\r\nFull low and dim, that saide thus,  \u201cVictory.\u201d\r\nFor which he gave to Mars honour and glory.\r\nAnd thus with joy, and hope well to fare,\r\nArcite anon unto his inn doth fare.\r\nAs fain* as fowl is of the brighte sun.                            *glad\r\n\r\nAnd right anon such strife there is begun\r\nFor thilke* granting, in the heav\u2019n above,                         *that\r\nBetwixte Venus the goddess of love,\r\nAnd Mars the sterne god armipotent,\r\nThat Jupiter was busy it to stent*:                                *stop\r\nTill that the pale Saturnus the cold,<70>\r\nThat knew so many of adventures old,\r\nFound in his old experience such an art,\r\nThat he full soon hath pleased every part.\r\nAs sooth is said, eld* hath great advantage,                        *age\r\nIn eld is bothe wisdom and usage*:                           *experience\r\nMen may the old out-run, but not out-rede*.                      *outwit\r\nSaturn anon, to stint the strife and drede,\r\nAlbeit that it is against his kind,*                             *nature\r\nOf all this strife gan a remedy find.\r\n\u201cMy deare daughter Venus,\u201d quoth Saturn,\r\n\u201cMy course*, that hath so wide for to turn,                  *orbit <71>\r\nHath more power than wot any man.\r\nMine is the drowning in the sea so wan;\r\nMine is the prison in the darke cote*,                             *cell\r\nMine the strangling and hanging by the throat,\r\nThe murmur, and the churlish rebelling,\r\nThe groyning*, and the privy poisoning.                      *discontent\r\nI do vengeance and plein* correction,                              *full\r\nI dwell in the sign of the lion.\r\nMine is the ruin of the highe halls,\r\nThe falling of the towers and the walls\r\nUpon the miner or the carpenter:\r\nI slew Samson in shaking the pillar:\r\nMine also be the maladies cold,\r\nThe darke treasons, and the castes* old:                          *plots\r\nMy looking is the father of pestilence.\r\nNow weep no more, I shall do diligence\r\nThat Palamon, that is thine owen knight,\r\nShall have his lady, as thou hast him hight*.                  *promised\r\nThough Mars shall help his knight, yet natheless\r\nBetwixte you there must sometime be peace:\r\nAll be ye not of one complexion,\r\nThat each day causeth such division,\r\nI am thine ayel*, ready at thy will;                   *grandfather <72>\r\nWeep now no more, I shall thy lust* fulfil.\u201d                   *pleasure\r\nNow will I stenten* of the gods above,                   *cease speaking\r\nOf Mars, and of Venus, goddess of love,\r\nAnd telle you as plainly as I can\r\nThe great effect, for which that I began.\r\n\r\nGreat was the feast in Athens thilke* day;                         *that\r\nAnd eke the lusty season of that May\r\nMade every wight to be in such pleasance,\r\nThat all that Monday jousten they and dance,\r\nAnd spenden it in Venus\u2019 high service.\r\nBut by the cause that they shoulde rise\r\nEarly a-morrow for to see that fight,\r\nUnto their reste wente they at night.\r\nAnd on the morrow, when the day gan spring,\r\nOf horse and harness* noise and clattering                       *armour\r\nThere was in the hostelries all about:\r\nAnd to the palace rode there many a rout*                *train, retinue\r\nOf lordes, upon steedes and palfreys.\r\nThere mayst thou see devising* of harness                    *decoration\r\nSo uncouth* and so rich, and wrought so weel               *unkown, rare\r\nOf goldsmithry, of brouding*, and of steel;                  *embroidery\r\nThe shieldes bright, the testers*, and trappures**          *helmets<73>\r\nGold-hewen helmets, hauberks, coat-armures;                  **trappings\r\nLordes in parements* on their coursers,           *ornamental garb <74>;\r\nKnightes of retinue, and eke squiers,\r\nNailing the spears, and helmes buckeling,\r\nGniding* of shieldes, with lainers** lacing;             *polishing <75>\r\nThere as need is, they were nothing idle:                     **lanyards\r\nThe foamy steeds upon the golden bridle\r\nGnawing, and fast the armourers also\r\nWith file and hammer pricking to and fro;\r\nYeomen on foot, and knaves* many one                           *servants\r\nWith shorte staves, thick* as they may gon**;              *close **walk\r\nPipes, trumpets, nakeres*, and clariouns,                    *drums <76>\r\nThat in the battle blowe bloody souns;\r\nThe palace full of people up and down,\r\nThere three, there ten, holding their questioun*,          *conversation\r\nDivining* of these Theban knightes two.                    *conjecturing\r\nSome saiden thus, some said it shall he so;\r\nSome helden with him with the blacke beard,\r\nSome with the bald, some with the thick-hair\u2019d;\r\nSome said he looked grim, and woulde fight:\r\nHe had a sparth* of twenty pound of weight.           *double-headed axe\r\nThus was the halle full of divining*                       *conjecturing\r\nLong after that the sunne gan up spring.\r\nThe great Theseus that of his sleep is waked\r\nWith minstrelsy, and noise that was maked,\r\nHeld yet the chamber of his palace rich,\r\nTill that the Theban knightes both y-lich*                        *alike\r\nHonoured were, and to the palace fet*.                          *fetched\r\nDuke Theseus is at a window set,\r\nArray\u2019d right as he were a god in throne:\r\nThe people presseth thitherward full soon\r\nHim for to see, and do him reverence,\r\nAnd eke to hearken his hest* and his sentence**.       *command **speech\r\nAn herald on a scaffold made an O, <77>\r\nTill the noise of the people was y-do*:                            *done\r\nAnd when he saw the people of noise all still,\r\nThus shewed he the mighty Duke\u2019s will.\r\n\u201cThe lord hath of his high discretion\r\nConsidered that it were destruction\r\nTo gentle blood, to fighten in the guise\r\nOf mortal battle now in this emprise:\r\nWherefore to shape* that they shall not die,          *arrange, contrive\r\nHe will his firste purpose modify.\r\nNo man therefore, on pain of loss of life,\r\nNo manner* shot, nor poleaxe, nor short knife                   *kind of\r\nInto the lists shall send, or thither bring.\r\nNor short sword for to stick with point biting\r\nNo man shall draw, nor bear it by his side.\r\nAnd no man shall unto his fellow ride\r\nBut one course, with a sharp y-grounden spear:\r\n*Foin if him list on foot, himself to wear.           *He who wishes can\r\nAnd he that is at mischief shall be take*,       fence on foot to defend\r\nAnd not slain, but be brought unto the stake,       himself, and he that\r\nThat shall be ordained on either side;       is in peril shall be taken*\r\nThither he shall by force, and there abide.\r\nAnd if *so fall* the chiefetain be take                  *should happen*\r\nOn either side, or elles slay his make*,                   *equal, match\r\nNo longer then the tourneying shall last.\r\nGod speede you; go forth and lay on fast.\r\nWith long sword and with mace fight your fill.\r\nGo now your way; this is the lordes will.\r\nThe voice of the people touched the heaven,\r\nSo loude cried they with merry steven*:                           *sound\r\nGod save such a lord that is so good,\r\nHe willeth no destruction of blood.\r\n\r\nUp go the trumpets and the melody,\r\nAnd to the listes rode the company\r\n*By ordinance*, throughout the city large,            *in orderly array*\r\nHanged with cloth of gold, and not with sarge*.              *serge <78>\r\nFull like a lord this noble Duke gan ride,\r\nAnd these two Thebans upon either side:\r\n\r\nAnd after rode the queen and Emily,\r\nAnd after them another company\r\nOf one and other, after their degree.\r\nAnd thus they passed thorough that city\r\nAnd to the listes came they by time:\r\nIt was not of the day yet fully prime*.              *between 6 & 9 a.m.\r\nWhen set was Theseus full rich and high,\r\nHippolyta the queen and Emily,\r\nAnd other ladies in their degrees about,\r\nUnto the seates presseth all the rout.\r\nAnd westward, through the gates under Mart,\r\nArcite, and eke the hundred of his part,\r\nWith banner red, is enter\u2019d right anon;\r\nAnd in the selve* moment Palamon                              *self-same\r\nIs, under Venus, eastward in the place,\r\nWith banner white, and hardy cheer* and face                 *expression\r\nIn all the world, to seeken up and down\r\nSo even* without variatioun                                       *equal\r\nThere were such companies never tway.\r\nFor there was none so wise that coulde say\r\nThat any had of other avantage\r\nOf worthiness, nor of estate, nor age,\r\nSo even were they chosen for to guess.\r\nAnd *in two ranges faire they them dress*.     *they arranged themselves\r\nWhen that their names read were every one,                  in two rows*\r\nThat in their number guile* were there none,                      *fraud\r\nThen were the gates shut, and cried was loud;\r\n\u201cDo now your devoir, younge knights proud\r\nThe heralds left their pricking* up and down      *spurring their horses\r\nNow ring the trumpet loud and clarioun.\r\nThere is no more to say, but east and west\r\nIn go the speares sadly* in the rest;                          *steadily\r\nIn go the sharpe spurs into the side.\r\nThere see me who can joust, and who can ride.\r\nThere shiver shaftes upon shieldes thick;\r\nHe feeleth through the hearte-spoon<79> the prick.\r\nUp spring the speares twenty foot on height;\r\nOut go the swordes as the silver bright.\r\nThe helmes they to-hewen, and to-shred*;          *strike in pieces <80>\r\nOut burst the blood, with sterne streames red.\r\nWith mighty maces the bones they to-brest*.                       *burst\r\nHe <81> through the thickest of the throng gan threst*.          *thrust\r\nThere stumble steedes strong, and down go all.\r\nHe rolleth under foot as doth a ball.\r\nHe foineth* on his foe with a trunchoun,                 *forces himself\r\nAnd he him hurtleth with his horse adown.\r\nHe through the body hurt is, and *sith take*,      *afterwards captured*\r\nMaugre his head, and brought unto the stake,\r\nAs forword* was, right there he must abide.                    *covenant\r\nAnother led is on that other side.\r\nAnd sometime doth* them Theseus to rest,                         *caused\r\nThem to refresh, and drinken if them lest*.                     *pleased\r\nFull oft a day have thilke Thebans two                            *these\r\nTogether met and wrought each other woe:\r\nUnhorsed hath each other of them tway*                            *twice\r\nThere is no tiger in the vale of Galaphay, <82>\r\nWhen that her whelp is stole, when it is lite*                   *little\r\nSo cruel on the hunter, as Arcite\r\nFor jealous heart upon this Palamon:\r\nNor in Belmarie <83> there is no fell lion,\r\nThat hunted is, or for his hunger wood*                             *mad\r\nOr for his prey desireth so the blood,\r\nAs Palamon to slay his foe Arcite.\r\nThe jealous strokes upon their helmets bite;\r\nOut runneth blood on both their sides red,\r\nSometime an end there is of every deed\r\nFor ere the sun unto the reste went,\r\nThe stronge king Emetrius gan hent*                       *sieze, assail\r\nThis Palamon, as he fought with Arcite,\r\nAnd made his sword deep in his flesh to bite,\r\nAnd by the force of twenty is he take,\r\nUnyielding, and is drawn unto the stake.\r\nAnd in the rescue of this Palamon\r\nThe stronge king Licurgus is borne down:\r\nAnd king Emetrius, for all his strength\r\nIs borne out of his saddle a sword\u2019s length,\r\nSo hit him Palamon ere he were take:\r\nBut all for nought; he was brought to the stake:\r\nHis hardy hearte might him helpe naught,\r\nHe must abide when that he was caught,\r\nBy force, and eke by composition*.                          *the bargain\r\nWho sorroweth now but woful Palamon\r\nThat must no more go again to fight?\r\nAnd when that Theseus had seen that sight\r\nUnto the folk that foughte thus each one,\r\nHe cried, Ho! no more, for it is done!\r\nI will be true judge, and not party.\r\nArcite of Thebes shall have Emily,\r\nThat by his fortune hath her fairly won.\u201d\r\nAnon there is a noise of people gone,\r\nFor joy of this, so loud and high withal,\r\nIt seemed that the listes shoulde fall.\r\n\r\nWhat can now faire Venus do above?\r\nWhat saith she now? what doth this queen of love?\r\nBut weepeth so, for wanting of her will,\r\nTill that her teares in the listes fill*                           *fall\r\nShe said: \u201cI am ashamed doubteless.\u201d\r\nSaturnus saide: \u201cDaughter, hold thy peace.\r\nMars hath his will, his knight hath all his boon,\r\nAnd by mine head thou shalt be eased soon.\u201d\r\n The trumpeters with the loud minstrelsy,\r\nThe heralds, that full loude yell and cry,\r\nBe in their joy for weal of Dan* Arcite.                           *Lord\r\nBut hearken me, and stinte noise a lite,\r\nWhat a miracle there befell anon\r\nThis fierce Arcite hath off his helm y-done,\r\nAnd on a courser for to shew his face\r\nHe *pricketh endelong* the large place,          *rides from end to end*\r\nLooking upward upon this Emily;\r\nAnd she again him cast a friendly eye\r\n(For women, as to speaken *in commune*,                      *generally*\r\nThey follow all the favour of fortune),\r\nAnd was all his in cheer*,  as his in heart.                *countenance\r\nOut of the ground a fire infernal start,\r\nFrom Pluto sent, at request of Saturn\r\nFor which his horse for fear began to turn,\r\nAnd leap aside, and founder* as he leap                         *stumble\r\nAnd ere that Arcite may take any keep*,                            *care\r\nHe pight* him on the pummel** of his head.                *pitched **top\r\nThat in the place he lay as he were dead.\r\nHis breast to-bursten with his saddle-bow.\r\nAs black he lay as any coal or crow,\r\nSo was the blood y-run into his face.\r\nAnon he was y-borne out of the place\r\nWith hearte sore, to Theseus\u2019 palace.\r\nThen was he carven* out of his harness.                             *cut\r\nAnd in a bed y-brought full fair and blive*                     *quickly\r\nFor he was yet in mem\u2019ry and alive,\r\nAnd always crying after Emily.\r\n\r\nDuke Theseus, with all his company,\r\nIs come home to Athens his city,\r\nWith alle bliss and great solemnity.\r\nAlbeit that this aventure was fall*,                           *befallen\r\nHe woulde not discomforte* them all                          *discourage\r\nThen said eke, that Arcite should not die,\r\nHe should be healed of his malady.\r\nAnd of another thing they were as fain*.                           *glad\r\nThat of them alle was there no one slain,\r\nAll* were they sorely hurt, and namely** one,     *although **especially\r\nThat with a spear was thirled* his breast-bone.                 *pierced\r\nTo other woundes, and to broken arms,\r\nSome hadden salves, and some hadden charms:\r\nAnd pharmacies of herbs, and eke save*         *sage, Salvia officinalis\r\nThey dranken, for they would their lives have.\r\nFor which this noble Duke, as he well can,\r\nComforteth and honoureth every man,\r\nAnd made revel all the longe night,\r\nUnto the strange lordes, as was right.\r\nNor there was holden no discomforting,\r\nBut as at jousts or at a tourneying;\r\nFor soothly there was no discomfiture,\r\nFor falling is not but an aventure*.                   *chance, accident\r\nNor to be led by force unto a stake\r\nUnyielding, and with twenty knights y-take\r\nOne person all alone, withouten mo\u2019,\r\nAnd harried* forth by armes, foot, and toe,            *dragged, hurried\r\nAnd eke his steede driven forth with staves,\r\nWith footmen, bothe yeomen and eke knaves*,                    *servants\r\nIt was *aretted him no villainy:*           *counted no disgrace to him*\r\nThere may no man *clepen it cowardy*.                *call it cowardice*\r\nFor which anon Duke Theseus *let cry*, \u2014      *caused to be proclaimed*\r\nTo stenten* alle rancour and envy, \u2014                              *stop\r\nThe gree* as well on one side as the other,                *prize, merit\r\nAnd either side alike as other\u2019s brother:\r\nAnd gave them giftes after their degree,\r\nAnd held a feaste fully dayes three:\r\nAnd conveyed the kinges worthily\r\nOut of  his town a journee* largely                       *day\u2019s journey\r\nAnd home went every man the righte way,\r\nThere was no more but \u201cFarewell, Have good day.\u201d\r\nOf this bataille I will no more indite\r\nBut speak of Palamon and of Arcite.\r\n\r\nSwelleth the breast of Arcite and the sore\r\nIncreaseth at his hearte more and more.\r\nThe clotted blood, for any leache-craft*                 *surgical skill\r\nCorrupteth and is *in his bouk y-laft*                *left in his body*\r\nThat neither *veine blood nor ventousing*,    *blood-letting or cupping*\r\nNor drink of herbes may be his helping.\r\nThe virtue expulsive or animal,\r\nFrom thilke virtue called natural,\r\nNor may the venom voide, nor expel\r\nThe pipes of his lungs began to swell\r\nAnd every lacert* in his breast adown                     *sinew, muscle\r\nIs shent* with venom and corruption.                          *destroyed\r\nHim gaineth* neither, for to get his life,                     *availeth\r\nVomit upward, nor downward laxative;\r\nAll is to-bursten thilke region;\r\nNature hath now no domination.\r\nAnd certainly where nature will not wirch,*                        *work\r\nFarewell physic: go bear the man to chirch.*                     *church\r\nThis all and some is, Arcite must die.\r\nFor which he sendeth after Emily,\r\nAnd Palamon, that was his cousin dear,\r\nThen said he thus, as ye shall after hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cNought may the woful spirit in mine heart\r\nDeclare one point of all my sorrows\u2019 smart\r\nTo you, my lady, that I love the most:\r\nBut I bequeath  the service of my ghost\r\nTo you aboven every creature,\r\nSince that my life ne may no longer dure.\r\nAlas the woe! alas, the paines strong\r\nThat I for you have suffered and so long!\r\nAlas the death,  alas, mine Emily!\r\nAlas departing* of our company!                           *the severance\r\nAlas, mine hearte\u2019s queen! alas, my wife!\r\nMine hearte\u2019s lady, ender of my life!\r\nWhat is this world? what aske men to have?\r\nNow with his love, now in his colde grave\r\nAl one, withouten any company.\r\nFarewell, my sweet, farewell, mine Emily,\r\nAnd softly take me in your armes tway,\r\nFor love of God, and hearken what I say.\r\nI have here with my cousin Palamon\r\nHad strife and rancour many a day agone,\r\nFor love of you, and for my jealousy.\r\nAnd Jupiter so *wis my soule gie*,               *surely guides my soul*\r\nTo speaken of a servant properly,\r\nWith alle circumstances truely,\r\nThat is to say, truth, honour, and knighthead,\r\nWisdom, humbless*, estate, and high kindred,                   *humility\r\nFreedom, and all that longeth to that art,\r\nSo Jupiter have of my soul part,\r\nAs in this world right now I know not one,\r\nSo worthy to be lov\u2019d as Palamon,\r\nThat serveth you, and will do all his life.\r\nAnd if that you shall ever be a wife,\r\nForget not Palamon, the gentle man.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word his speech to fail began.\r\nFor from his feet up to his breast was come\r\nThe cold of death, that had him overnome*.                     *overcome\r\nAnd yet moreover in his armes two\r\nThe vital strength is lost, and all ago*.                          *gone\r\nOnly the intellect, withoute more,\r\nThat dwelled in his hearte sick and sore,\r\nGan faile, when the hearte felte death;\r\nDusked* his eyen two, and fail\u2019d his breath.                   *grew dim\r\nBut on his lady yet he cast his eye;\r\nHis laste word was; \u201cMercy, Emily!\u201d\r\nHis spirit changed house, and wente there,\r\nAs I came never I cannot telle where.<84>\r\nTherefore I stent*, I am no divinister**;             *refrain **diviner\r\nOf soules find I nought in this register.\r\nNe me list not th\u2019 opinions to tell\r\nOf them, though that they writen where they dwell;\r\nArcite is cold, there Mars his soule gie.*                        *guide\r\nNow will I speake forth of Emily.\r\n\r\nShriek\u2019d Emily, and howled Palamon,\r\nAnd Theseus his sister took anon\r\nSwooning, and bare her from the corpse away.\r\nWhat helpeth it to tarry forth the day,\r\nTo telle how she wept both eve and morrow?\r\nFor in such cases women have such sorrow,\r\nWhen that their husbands be from them y-go*,                       *gone\r\nThat for the more part they sorrow so,\r\nOr elles fall into such malady,\r\nThat at the laste certainly they die.\r\nInfinite be the sorrows and the tears\r\nOf olde folk, and folk of tender years,\r\nIn all the town, for death of this Theban:\r\nFor him there weepeth bothe child and man.\r\nSo great a weeping was there none certain,\r\nWhen Hector was y-brought, all fresh y-slain,\r\nTo Troy: alas! the pity that was there,\r\nScratching of cheeks, and rending eke of hair.\r\n\u201cWhy wouldest thou be dead?\u201d these women cry,\r\n\u201cAnd haddest gold enough, and Emily.\u201d\r\nNo manner man might gladden Theseus,\r\nSaving his olde father Egeus,\r\nThat knew this worlde\u2019s transmutatioun,\r\nAs he had seen it changen up and down,\r\nJoy after woe, and woe after gladness;\r\nAnd shewed him example and likeness.\r\n\u201cRight as there died never man,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cThat he ne liv\u2019d in earth in some degree*,             *rank, condition\r\nRight so there lived never man,\u201d he said,\r\n\u201cIn all this world, that sometime be not died.\r\nThis world is but a throughfare full of woe,\r\nAnd we be pilgrims, passing to and fro:\r\nDeath is an end of every worldly sore.\u201d\r\nAnd over all this said he yet much more\r\nTo this effect, full wisely to exhort\r\nThe people, that they should them recomfort.\r\nDuke Theseus, with all his busy cure*,                             *care\r\n*Casteth about*, where that the sepulture                  *deliberates*\r\nOf good Arcite may best y-maked be,\r\nAnd eke most honourable in his degree.\r\nAnd at the last he took conclusion,\r\nThat there as first Arcite and Palamon\r\nHadde for love the battle them between,\r\nThat in that selve* grove, sweet and green,                   *self-same\r\nThere as he had his amorous desires,\r\nHis complaint, and for love his hote fires,\r\nHe woulde make a fire*, in which th\u2019 office                *funeral pyre\r\nOf funeral he might all accomplice;\r\nAnd *let anon command* to hack and hew         *immediately gave orders*\r\nThe oakes old, and lay them *on a rew*                        *in a row*\r\nIn culpons*, well arrayed for to brenne**.                  *logs **burn\r\nHis officers with swifte feet they renne*                           *run\r\nAnd ride anon at his commandement.\r\nAnd after this, Duke Theseus hath sent\r\nAfter a bier, and it all oversprad\r\nWith cloth of gold, the richest that he had;\r\nAnd of the same suit he clad Arcite.\r\nUpon his handes were his gloves white,\r\nEke on his head a crown of laurel green,\r\nAnd in his hand a sword full bright and keen.\r\nHe laid him *bare the visage* on the bier,         *with face uncovered*\r\nTherewith he wept, that pity was to hear.\r\nAnd, for the people shoulde see him all,\r\nWhen it was day he brought them to the hall,\r\nThat roareth of the crying and the soun\u2019.\r\nThen came this woful Theban, Palamon,\r\nWith sluttery beard, and ruggy ashy hairs,<85>\r\nIn clothes black, y-dropped all with tears,\r\nAnd (passing over weeping Emily)\r\nThe ruefullest of all the company.\r\nAnd *inasmuch as* the service should be                  *in order that*\r\nThe more noble and rich in its degree,\r\nDuke Theseus let forth three steedes bring,\r\nThat trapped were in steel all glittering.\r\nAnd covered with the arms of Dan Arcite.\r\nUpon these steedes, that were great and white,\r\nThere satte folk, of whom one bare his shield,\r\nAnother his spear in his handes held;\r\nThe thirde bare with him his bow Turkeis*,                     *Turkish.\r\nOf brent* gold was the case** and the harness:       *burnished **quiver\r\nAnd ride forth *a pace* with sorrowful cheer**          *at a foot pace*\r\nToward the grove, as ye shall after hear.                   **expression\r\n\r\nThe noblest of the Greekes that there were\r\nUpon their shoulders carried the bier,\r\nWith slacke pace, and eyen red and wet,\r\nThroughout the city, by the master* street,                   *main <86>\r\nThat spread was all with black, and wondrous high\r\nRight of the same is all the street y-wrie.*               *covered <87>\r\nUpon the right hand went old Egeus,\r\nAnd on the other side Duke Theseus,\r\nWith vessels in their hand of gold full fine,\r\nAll full of honey, milk, and blood, and wine;\r\nEke Palamon, with a great company;\r\nAnd after that came woful Emily,\r\nWith fire in hand, as was that time the guise*,                  *custom\r\nTo do th\u2019 office of funeral service.\r\n\r\nHigh labour, and full great appareling*                     *preparation\r\nWas at the service, and the pyre-making,\r\nThat with its greene top the heaven raught*,                    *reached\r\nAnd twenty fathom broad its armes straught*:                  *stretched\r\nThis is to say, the boughes were so broad.\r\nOf straw first there was laid many a load.\r\nBut how the pyre was maked up on height,\r\nAnd eke the names how the trees hight*,                     *were called\r\nAs oak, fir, birch, asp*, alder, holm, poplere,                   *aspen\r\nWillow, elm, plane, ash, box, chestnut, lind*, laurere,    *linden, lime\r\nMaple, thorn, beech, hazel, yew, whipul tree,\r\nHow they were fell\u2019d, shall not be told for me;\r\nNor how the goddes* rannen up and down               *the forest deities\r\nDisinherited of their habitatioun,\r\nIn which they wonned* had in rest and peace,                      *dwelt\r\nNymphes, Faunes, and Hamadryades;\r\nNor how the beastes and the birdes all\r\nFledden for feare, when the wood gan fall;\r\nNor how the ground aghast* was of the light,                  *terrified\r\nThat was not wont to see the sunne bright;\r\nNor how the fire was couched* first with stre**,           *laid **straw\r\nAnd then with dry stickes cloven in three,\r\nAnd then with greene wood and spicery*,                          *spices\r\nAnd then with cloth of gold and with pierrie*,          *precious stones\r\nAnd garlands hanging with full many a flower,\r\nThe myrrh, the incense with so sweet odour;\r\nNor how Arcita lay among all this,\r\nNor what richess about his body is;\r\nNor how that Emily, as was the guise*,                           *custom\r\n*Put in the fire* of funeral service<88>;           *appplied the torch*\r\nNor how she swooned when she made the fire,\r\nNor what she spake, nor what was her desire;\r\nNor what jewels men in the fire then cast\r\nWhen that the fire was great and burned fast;\r\n\r\nNor how some cast their shield, and some their spear,\r\nAnd of their vestiments, which that they wear,\r\nAnd cuppes full of wine, and milk, and blood,\r\nInto the fire, that burnt as it were wood*;                         *mad\r\nNor how the Greekes with a huge rout*                        *procession\r\nThree times riden all the fire about <89>\r\nUpon the left hand, with a loud shouting,\r\nAnd thries with their speares clattering;\r\nAnd thries how the ladies gan to cry;\r\nNor how that led was homeward Emily;\r\nNor how Arcite is burnt to ashes cold;\r\nNor how the lyke-wake* was y-hold                             *wake <90>\r\nAll thilke* night, nor how the Greekes play                        *that\r\nThe wake-plays*, ne keep** I not to say:           *funeral games **care\r\nWho wrestled best naked, with oil anoint,\r\nNor who that bare him best *in no disjoint*.            *in any contest*\r\nI will not tell eke how they all are gone\r\nHome to Athenes when the play is done;\r\nBut shortly to the point now will I wend*,                         *come\r\nAnd maken of my longe tale an end.\r\n\r\nBy process and by length of certain years\r\nAll stinted* is the mourning and the tears                        *ended\r\nOf Greekes, by one general assent.\r\nThen seemed me there was a parlement\r\nAt Athens, upon certain points and cas*:                          *cases\r\nAmonge the which points y-spoken was\r\nTo have with certain countries alliance,\r\nAnd have of Thebans full obeisance.\r\nFor which this noble Theseus anon\r\nLet* send after the gentle Palamon,                              *caused\r\nUnwist* of him what was the cause and why:                      *unknown\r\nBut in his blacke clothes sorrowfully\r\nHe came at his commandment *on hie*;                          *in haste*\r\nThen sente Theseus for Emily.\r\nWhen they were set*, and hush\u2019d was all the place                *seated\r\nAnd Theseus abided* had a space                                  *waited\r\nEre any word came from his wise breast\r\n*His eyen set he there as was his lest*,               *he cast his eyes\r\nAnd with a sad visage he sighed still,              wherever he pleased*\r\nAnd after that right thus he said his will.\r\n\u201cThe firste mover of the cause above\r\nWhen he first made the faire chain of love,\r\nGreat was th\u2019 effect, and high was his intent;\r\nWell wist he why, and what thereof he meant:\r\nFor with that faire chain of love he bond*                        *bound\r\nThe fire, the air, the water, and the lond\r\nIn certain bondes, that they may not flee:<91>\r\nThat same prince and mover eke,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cHath stablish\u2019d, in this wretched world adown,\r\nCertain of dayes and duration\r\nTo all that are engender\u2019d in this place,\r\nOver the whiche day they may not pace*,                            *pass\r\nAll may they yet their dayes well abridge.\r\nThere needeth no authority to allege\r\nFor it is proved by experience;\r\nBut that me list declare my sentence*.                          *opinion\r\nThen may men by this order well discern,\r\nThat thilke* mover stable is and etern.                        *the same\r\nWell may men know, but that it be a fool,\r\nThat every part deriveth from its whole.\r\nFor nature hath not ta\u2019en its beginning\r\nOf no *partie nor cantle* of a thing,                    *part or piece*\r\nBut of a thing that perfect is and stable,\r\nDescending so, till it be corruptable.\r\nAnd therefore of His wise purveyance*                        *providence\r\nHe hath so well beset* his ordinance,\r\nThat species of things and progressions\r\nShallen endure by successions,\r\nAnd not etern, withouten any lie:\r\nThis mayst thou understand and see at eye.\r\nLo th\u2019 oak, that hath so long a nourishing\r\nFrom the time that it \u2019ginneth first to spring,\r\nAnd hath so long a life, as ye may see,\r\nYet at the last y-wasted is the tree.\r\nConsider eke, how that the harde stone\r\nUnder our feet, on which we tread and gon*,                        *walk\r\nYet wasteth, as it lieth by the way.\r\nThe broade river some time waxeth drey*.                            *dry\r\nThe greate townes see we wane and wend*.                  *go, disappear\r\nThen may ye see that all things have an end.\r\nOf man and woman see we well also, \u2014\r\nThat needes in one of the termes two, \u2014\r\nThat is to say, in youth or else in age,-\r\nHe must be dead, the king as shall a page;\r\nSome in his bed, some in the deepe sea,\r\nSome in the large field, as ye may see:\r\nThere helpeth nought, all go that ilke* way:                       *same\r\nThen may I say that alle thing must die.\r\nWhat maketh this but Jupiter the king?\r\nThe which is prince, and cause of alle thing,\r\nConverting all unto his proper will,\r\nFrom which it is derived, sooth to tell\r\nAnd hereagainst no creature alive,\r\nOf no degree, availeth for to strive.\r\nThen is it wisdom, as it thinketh me,\r\nTo make a virtue of necessity,\r\nAnd take it well, that we may not eschew*,                       *escape\r\nAnd namely what to us all is due.\r\nAnd whoso grudgeth* ought, he doth folly,                    *murmurs at\r\nAnd rebel is to him that all may gie*.                    *direct, guide\r\nAnd certainly a man hath most honour\r\nTo dien in his excellence and flower,\r\nWhen he is sicker* of his goode name.                           *certain\r\nThen hath he done his friend, nor him*, no shame                *himself\r\nAnd gladder ought his friend be of his death,\r\nWhen with honour is yielded up his breath,\r\nThan when his name *appalled is for age*;           *decayed by old age*\r\nFor all forgotten is his vassalage*.                    *valour, service\r\nThen is it best, as for a worthy fame,\r\nTo dien when a man is best of name.\r\nThe contrary of all this is wilfulness.\r\nWhy grudge we, why have we heaviness,\r\nThat good Arcite, of chivalry the flower,\r\nDeparted is, with duty and honour,\r\nOut of this foule prison of this life?\r\nWhy grudge here his cousin and his wife\r\nOf his welfare, that loved him so well?\r\nCan he them thank? nay, God wot, neverdeal*, \u2014               *not a jot\r\nThat both his soul and eke themselves offend*,                     *hurt\r\nAnd yet they may their lustes* not amend**.           *desires **control\r\nWhat may I conclude of this longe serie*,             *string of remarks\r\nBut after sorrow I rede* us to be merry,                        *counsel\r\nAnd thanke Jupiter for all his grace?\r\nAnd ere that we departe from this place,\r\nI rede that we make of sorrows two\r\nOne perfect joye lasting evermo\u2019:\r\nAnd look now where most sorrow is herein,\r\nThere will I first amenden and begin.\r\n\u201cSister,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthis is my full assent,\r\nWith all th\u2019 advice here of my parlement,\r\nThat gentle Palamon, your owen knight,\r\nThat serveth you with will, and heart, and might,\r\nAnd ever hath, since first time ye him knew,\r\nThat ye shall of your grace upon him rue*,                    *take pity\r\nAnd take him for your husband and your lord:\r\nLend me your hand, for this is our accord.\r\n*Let see* now of your womanly pity.                       *make display*\r\nHe is a kinge\u2019s brother\u2019s son, pardie*.                          *by God\r\nAnd though he were a poore bachelere,\r\nSince he hath served you so many a year,\r\nAnd had for you so great adversity,\r\nIt muste be considered, *\u2019lieveth me*.                      *believe me*\r\nFor gentle mercy *oweth to passen right*.\u201d          *ought to be rightly\r\nThen said he thus to Palamon the knight;                       directed*\r\n\u201cI trow there needeth little sermoning\r\nTo make you assente to this thing.\r\nCome near, and take your lady by the hand.\u201d\r\nBetwixte them was made anon the band,\r\nThat hight matrimony or marriage,\r\nBy all the counsel of the baronage.\r\nAnd thus with alle bliss and melody\r\nHath Palamon y-wedded Emily.\r\nAnd God, that all this wide world hath wrought,\r\nSend him his love, that hath it dearly bought.\r\nFor now is Palamon in all his weal,\r\nLiving in bliss, in riches, and in heal*.                        *health\r\nAnd Emily him loves so tenderly,\r\nAnd he her serveth all so gentilly,\r\nThat never was there worde them between\r\nOf jealousy, nor of none other teen*.                    *cause of anger\r\nThus endeth Palamon and Emily\r\nAnd God save all this faire company.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The Knight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. For the plan and principal incidents of the \u201cKnight\u2019s Tale,\u201d\r\nChaucer was indebted to Boccaccio, who had himself borrowed\r\nfrom some prior poet, chronicler, or romancer.  Boccaccio\r\nspeaks of the story as \u201cvery ancient;\u201d and, though that may not\r\nbe proof of its antiquity, it certainly shows that he took it from\r\nan earlier writer. The \u201cTale\u201d is more or less a paraphrase of\r\nBoccaccio\u2019s \u201cTheseida;\u201d but in some points the copy has a\r\ndistinct dramatic superiority over the original.  The \u201cTheseida\u201d\r\ncontained ten thousand lines; Chaucer has condensed it into less\r\nthan one-fourth of the number. The \u201cKnight\u2019s Tale\u201d is supposed\r\nto have been at first composed as a separate work; it is\r\nundetermined whether Chaucer took it direct from the Italian of\r\nBoccaccio, or from a French translation.\r\n\r\n2. Highte: was called; from the Anglo-Saxon \u201chatan\u201d, to bid or\r\ncall; German, \u201cHeissen\u201d, \u201cheisst\u201d.\r\n\r\n3. Feminie: The \u201cRoyaume des Femmes\u201d \u2014 kingdom of the\r\nAmazons. Gower, in the \u201cConfessio Amantis,\u201d styles\r\nPenthesilea the \u201cQueen of Feminie.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. Wonnen: Won, conquered; German \u201cgewonnen.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. Ear: To plough; Latin, \u201carare.\u201d  \u201cI have abundant  matter for\r\ndiscourse.\u201d The first, and half of the second, of Boccaccio\u2019s\r\ntwelve books are disposed of in the few lines foregoing.\r\n\r\n6. Waimenting:  bewailing; German, \u201cwehklagen\u201d\r\n\r\n7. Starf: died; German, \u201csterben,\u201d \u201cstarb\u201d.\r\n\r\n8. The Minotaur: The monster, half-man and half-bull, which\r\nyearly devoured a tribute of fourteen Athenian youths and\r\nmaidens, until it was slain by Theseus.\r\n\r\n9. Pillers: pillagers, strippers; French, \u201cpilleurs.\u201d\r\n\r\n10. The donjon was originally the central tower or \u201ckeep\u201d of\r\nfeudal castles; it was employed to detain prisoners of\r\nimportance. Hence the modern meaning of the word dungeon.\r\n\r\n11. Saturn, in the old astrology, was a most unpropitious star to\r\nbe born under.\r\n\r\n12. To die in the pain was a proverbial expression in the French,\r\nused as an alternative to enforce a resolution or a promise.\r\nEdward III., according to Froissart, declared that he would\r\neither succeed in the war against France or die in the pain \u2014\r\n\u201cOu il mourroit en la peine.\u201d It was the fashion in those times to\r\nswear oaths of friendship and brotherhood; and hence, though\r\nthe fashion has long died out, we still speak of \u201csworn friends.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. The saying of the old scholar Boethius, in his treatise \u201cDe\r\nConsolatione Philosophiae\u201d, which Chaucer translated, and\r\nfrom which he has freely borrowed in his poetry. The words are\r\n\u201cQuis legem det amantibus?\r\nMajor lex amor est sibi.\u201d\r\n(\u201cWho can give law to lovers? Love is a law unto himself, and\r\ngreater\u201d)\r\n\r\n14. \u201cPerithous\u201d and \u201cTheseus\u201d must, for the metre, be\r\npronounced as words of four and three syllables respectively \u2014\r\nthe vowels at the end not being diphthongated, but enunciated\r\nseparately, as if the words were printed Pe-ri-tho-us, The-se-us.\r\nThe same rule applies in such words as \u201ccreature\u201d and\r\n\u201cconscience,\u201d which are trisyllables.\r\n\r\n15. Stound: moment, short space of time; from Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cstund;\u201d akin to which is German, \u201cStunde,\u201d an hour.\r\n\r\n16. Meinie: servants, or menials, &c., dwelling together in a\r\nhouse; from an Anglo-Saxon word meaning a crowd. Compare\r\nGerman, \u201cMenge,\u201d multitude.\r\n\r\n17. The pure fetters: the very fetters. The Greeks used\r\n\u201ckatharos\u201d, the Romans \u201cpurus,\u201d in the same sense.\r\n\r\n18. In the medieval courts of Love, to which allusion is\r\nprobably made forty lines before, in the word \u201cparlement,\u201d or\r\n\u201cparliament,\u201d questions like that here proposed were seriously\r\ndiscussed.\r\n\r\n19. Gear: behaviour, fashion, dress; but, by another reading, the\r\nword is \u201cgyre,\u201d and means fit, trance \u2014 from the Latin, \u201cgyro,\u201d I\r\nturn round.\r\n\r\n20. Before his head in his cell fantastic: in front of his head in\r\nhis cell of fantasy. \u201cThe division of the brain into cells,\r\naccording to the different sensitive faculties,\u201d says Mr Wright,\r\n\u201cis very ancient, and is found depicted in mediaeval\r\nmanuscripts.\u201d In a manuscript in the Harleian Library, it is\r\nstated, \u201cCertum est in prora cerebri esse fantasiam, in medio\r\nrationem discretionis, in puppi memoriam\u201d (it is certain that in\r\nthe front of the brain is imagination, in the middle reason, in the\r\nback memory) \u2014 a classification not materially differing from\r\nthat of modern phrenologists.\r\n\r\n21. Dan: Lord; Latin, \u201cDominus;\u201d Spanish, \u201cDon.\u201d\r\n\r\n22. The \u201ccaduceus.\u201d\r\n\r\n23. Argus was employed by Juno to watch Io with his hundred\r\neyes but he was sent to sleep by the flute of Mercury, who then\r\ncut off his head.\r\n\r\n24. Next: nearest; German, \u201cnaechste\u201d.\r\n\r\n25. Clary: hippocras, wine made with spices.\r\n\r\n26. Warray: make war; French \u201cguerroyer\u201d, to molest; hence,\r\nperhaps, \u201cto worry.\u201d\r\n\r\n27. All day meeten men at unset steven: every day men meet at\r\nunexpected time.  \u201cTo  set a steven,\u201d is to fix a time, make an\r\nappointment.\r\n\r\n28. Roundelay: song coming round again to the words with\r\nwhich it opened.\r\n\r\n29. Now in the crop and now down in the breres: Now in the\r\ntree-top, now down in the briars. \u201cCrop and root,\u201d top and\r\nbottom, is used to express the perfection or totality of anything.\r\n\r\n30. Beknow: avow, acknowledge: German, \u201cbekennen.\u201d\r\n\r\n31. Shapen was my death erst than my shert: My death was\r\ndecreed before my shirt ws shaped \u2014 that is, before any clothes\r\nwere made for me, before my birth.\r\n\r\n32. Regne: Queen; French, \u201cReine;\u201d Venus is meant. The\r\ncommon reading, however, is \u201cregne,\u201d reign or power.\r\n\r\n33. Launde: plain. Compare modern English, \u201clawn,\u201d and\r\nFrench, \u201cLandes\u201d \u2014 flat, bare marshy tracts in the south of\r\nFrance.\r\n\r\n34. Mister: manner, kind; German \u201cmuster,\u201d sample, model.\r\n\r\n35. In listes:  in the lists, prepared for such single combats\r\nbetween champion and accuser, &c.\r\n\r\n36. Thilke: that, contracted from \u201cthe ilke,\u201d the same.\r\n\r\n37. Mars the Red: referring to the ruddy colour of the planet, to\r\nwhich was doubtless due the transference to it of the name of\r\nthe God of War. In his \u201cRepublic,\u201d enumerating the seven\r\nplanets, Cicero speaks of the propitious and beneficent light of\r\nJupiter: \u201cTum (fulgor) rutilis horribilisque terris, quem Martium\r\ndicitis\u201d \u2014  \u201cThen the red glow, horrible to the nations, which\r\nyou say to be that of Mars.\u201d Boccaccio opens the \u201cTheseida\u201d by\r\nan invocation to \u201crubicondo Marte.\u201d\r\n\r\n38. Last: lace, leash, noose, snare: from Latin, \u201claceus.\u201d\r\n\r\n39. \u201cRound was the shape, in manner of compass,\r\nFull of degrees, the height of sixty pas\u201d\r\nThe building was a circle of steps or benches, as in the ancient\r\namphitheatre. Either the building was sixty paces high; or, more\r\nprobably, there were sixty of the steps or benches.\r\n\r\n40. Yellow goldes: The sunflower, turnsol, or girasol, which\r\nturns with and seems to watch the sun, as a jealous lover his\r\nmistress.\r\n\r\n41. Citheron: The Isle of Venus, Cythera, in the Aegean Sea;\r\nnow called Cerigo: not, as Chaucer\u2019s form of the word might\r\nimply, Mount Cithaeron, in the south-west of Boetia, which was\r\nappropriated to other deities than Venus \u2014 to Jupiter, to\r\nBacchus, and the Muses.\r\n\r\n42. It need not be said that Chaucer pays slight heed to\r\nchronology in this passage, where the deeds of Turnus, the\r\nglory of King Solomon, and the fate of Croesus are made\r\nmemories of the far past in the time of fabulous Theseus, the\r\nMinotaur-slayer.\r\n\r\n43. Champartie: divided power or possession; an old law-term,\r\nsignifying the maintenance of a person in a law suit on the\r\ncondition of receiving part of the property in dispute, if\r\nrecovered.\r\n\r\n44. Citole: a kind of dulcimer.\r\n\r\n45. The picke-purse:  The plunderers that followed armies, and\r\ngave to war a horror all their own.\r\n\r\n46. Shepen: stable;  Anglo-Saxon, \u201cscypen;\u201d the word\r\n\u201csheppon\u201d still survives in provincial parlance.\r\n\r\n47. This line, perhaps, refers to the deed of Jael.\r\n\r\n48. The shippes hoppesteres: The meaning is dubious. We may\r\nunderstand \u201cthe dancing ships,\u201d \u201cthe ships that hop\u201d on the\r\nwaves; \u201csteres\u201d being taken as the feminine adjectival\r\ntermination: or we may, perhaps, read, with one of the\r\nmanuscripts, \u201cthe ships upon the steres\u201d \u2014 that is, even as they\r\nare being steered, or on the open sea \u2014 a more picturesque\r\nnotion.\r\n\r\n49. Freting: devouring; the Germans use \u201cFressen\u201d to mean\r\neating by animals, \u201cessen\u201d by men.\r\n\r\n50. Julius: i.e. Julius Caesar\r\n\r\n51. Puella and Rubeus were two figures in geomancy,\r\nrepresenting two constellations-the one signifying Mars\r\nretrograde, the other Mars direct.\r\n\r\n52. Calistope: or Callisto, daughter of Lycaon, seduced by\r\nJupiter, turned into a bear by Diana, and placed afterwards, with\r\nher son, as the Great Bear among the stars.\r\n\r\n53. Dane: Daphne, daughter of the river-god Peneus, in\r\nThessaly; she was beloved by Apollo, but to avoid his pursuit,\r\nshe was, at her own prayer, changed into a laurel-tree.\r\n\r\n54. As the goddess of Light, or the goddess who brings to light,\r\nDiana \u2014 as well as Juno \u2014 was invoked by women in childbirth:\r\nso Horace, Odes iii. 22, says:\u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cMontium custos nemorumque, Virgo,\r\nQuae laborantes utero puellas\r\nTer vocata audis adimisque leto,\r\nDiva triformis.\u201d\r\n\r\n(\u201cVirgin custodian of hills and groves, three-formed goddess\r\nwho hears and saves from death young women who call upon\r\nher thrice when in childbirth\u201d)\r\n\r\n55. Every deal:  in every part; \u201cdeal\u201d corresponds to the\r\nGerman \u201cTheil\u201d a portion.\r\n\r\n56. Sikerly: surely; German, \u201csicher;\u201d Scotch, \u201csikkar,\u201d certain.\r\nWhen Robert Bruce had escaped from England to assume the\r\nScottish crown, he stabbed Comyn before the altar at Dumfries;\r\nand, emerging from the church, was asked by his friend\r\nKirkpatrick if he had slain the traitor. \u201cI doubt it,\u201d said Bruce.\r\n\u201cDoubt,\u201d cried Kirkpatrick.  \u201cI\u2019ll mak sikkar;\u201d and he rushed\r\ninto the church, and despatched Comyn with repeated thrusts of\r\nhis dagger.\r\n\r\n57. Kemped: combed; the word survives in \u201cunkempt.\u201d\r\n\r\n58. Alauns: greyhounds, mastiffs; from the Spanish word\r\n\u201cAlano,\u201d signifying a mastiff.\r\n\r\n59. Y-ment: mixed; German, \u201cmengen,\u201d to mix.\r\n\r\n60. Prime: The time of early prayers, between six and nine in\r\nthe morning.\r\n\r\n61. On the dais: see note 32 to the Prologue.\r\n\r\n62. In her hour: in the hour of the day (two hours before\r\ndaybreak) which after the astrological system that divided the\r\ntwenty-four among the seven ruling planets, was under the\r\ninfluence of Venus.\r\n\r\n63. Adon: Adonis, a beautiful youth beloved of Venus, whose\r\ndeath by the tusk of a boar she deeply mourned.\r\n\r\n64. The third hour unequal: In the third planetary hour;\r\nPalamon had gone forth in the hour of Venus, two hours before\r\ndaybreak; the hour of Mercury intervened; the third hour was\r\nthat of Luna, or Diana.  \u201cUnequal\u201d refers to the astrological\r\ndivision of day and night, whatever their duration, into twelve\r\nparts, which of necessity varied in length with the season.\r\n\r\n65. Smoking: draping; hence the word \u201csmock;\u201d \u201csmokless,\u201d in\r\nChaucer, means naked.\r\n\r\n66. Cerrial: of the species of oak which Pliny, in his \u201cNatural\r\nHistory,\u201d calls \u201ccerrus.\u201d\r\n\r\n67. Stace of Thebes: Statius, the Roman who embodied in the\r\ntwelve books of his \u201cThebaid\u201d the ancient legends connected\r\nwith the war of the seven against Thebes.\r\n\r\n68. Diana was Luna in heaven, Diana on earth, and Hecate in\r\nhell; hence the direction of the eyes of her statue to \u201cPluto\u2019s\r\ndark region.\u201d  Her statue was set up where three ways met, so\r\nthat with a different face she looked down each of the three;\r\nfrom which she was called Trivia. See the quotation from\r\nHorace, note 54.\r\n\r\n69. Las: net; the invisible toils in which Hephaestus caught Ares\r\nand the faithless Aphrodite, and exposed them to the\r\n\u201cinextinguishable laughter\u201d of Olympus.\r\n\r\n70. Saturnus the cold: Here, as in \u201cMars the Red\u201d we have the\r\nperson of the deity endowed with the supposed quality of the\r\nplanet called after his name.\r\n\r\n71. The astrologers ascribed great power to Saturn, and\r\npredicted \u201cmuch debate\u201d under his ascendancy; hence it was\r\n\u201cagainst his kind\u201d to compose the heavenly strife.\r\n\r\n72. Ayel: grandfather; French \u201cAieul\u201d.\r\n\r\n73. Testers: Helmets; from the French \u201cteste\u201d, \u201ctete\u201d, head.\r\n\r\n74. Parements: ornamental garb, French \u201cparer\u201d to deck.\r\n\r\n75. Gniding: Rubbing, polishing; Anglo-Saxon \u201cgnidan\u201d, to rub.\r\n\r\n76. Nakeres: Drums, used in the cavalry; Boccaccio\u2019s word is\r\n\u201cnachere\u201d.\r\n\r\n77. Made an O: Ho! Ho! to command attention; like \u201coyez\u201d, the\r\ncall for silence in law-courts or before proclamations.\r\n\r\n78. Sarge: serge, a coarse woollen cloth\r\n\r\n79. Heart-spoon: The concave part of the breast, where the\r\nlower ribs join the cartilago ensiformis.\r\n\r\n80. To-hewen and to-shred:  \u201cto\u201d before a verb implies\r\nextraordinary violence in the action denoted.\r\n\r\n81. He through the thickest of the throng etc.. \u201cHe\u201d in this\r\npassage refers impersonally to any of the combatants.\r\n\r\n82. Galaphay: Galapha, in Mauritania.\r\n\r\n83. Belmarie is supposed to have been a Moorish state in\r\nAfrica; but \u201cPalmyrie\u201d has been suggested as the correct\r\nreading.\r\n\r\n84. As I came never I cannot telle where: Where it went I\r\ncannot tell you, as I was not there.  Tyrwhitt thinks that\r\nChaucer is sneering at Boccacio\u2019s pompous account of the\r\npassage of Arcite\u2019s soul to heaven. Up to this point, the\r\ndescription of the death-scene is taken literally from the\r\n\u201cTheseida.\u201d\r\n\r\n85. With sluttery beard, and ruggy ashy hairs: With neglected\r\nbeard, and rough hair strewn with ashes. \u201cFlotery\u201d is the general\r\nreading; but \u201csluttery\u201d seems to be more in keeping with the\r\npicture of abandonment to grief.\r\n\r\n86. Master street: main street; so Froissart speaks of \u201cle\r\nsouverain carrefour.\u201d\r\n\r\n87. Y-wrie: covered, hid; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cwrigan,\u201d to veil.\r\n\r\n88. Emily applied the funeral torch. The \u201cguise\u201d was, among the\r\nancients, for the nearest relative of the deceased to do this, with\r\naverted face.\r\n\r\n89. It was the custom for soldiers to march thrice around the\r\nfuneral pile of an emperor or general; \u201con the left hand\u201d is\r\nadded, in reference to the belief that the left hand was\r\npropitious \u2014 the Roman augur turning his face southward, and\r\nso placing on his left hand the east, whence good omens came.\r\nWith the Greeks, however, their augurs facing the north, it was\r\njust the contrary. The confusion, frequent in classical writers, is\r\ncomplicated here by the fact that Chaucer\u2019s description of the\r\nfuneral of Arcite is taken from Statius\u2019 \u201cThebaid\u201d \u2014 from a\r\nRoman\u2019s account of a Greek solemnity.\r\n\r\n90. Lyke-wake: watching by the remains of the dead; from\r\nAnglo-Saxon, \u201clice,\u201d a corpse; German, \u201cLeichnam.\u201d\r\n\r\n91. Chaucer here borrows from Boethius, who says:\r\n\u201cHanc rerum seriem ligat,\r\nTerras ac pelagus regens,\r\nEt coelo imperitans, amor.\u201d\r\n(Love ties these things together: the earth, and the ruling sea,\r\nand the imperial heavens)\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE MILLER\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nWhen that the Knight had thus his tale told\r\nIn all the rout was neither young nor old,\r\nThat he not said it was a noble story,\r\nAnd worthy to be *drawen to memory*;                          *recorded*\r\nAnd *namely the gentles* every one.          *especially the gentlefolk*\r\nOur Host then laugh\u2019d and swore, \u201cSo may I gon,*                *prosper\r\nThis goes aright; *unbuckled is the mail;*        *the budget is opened*\r\nLet see now who shall tell another tale:\r\nFor truely this game is well begun.\r\nNow telleth ye, Sir Monk, if that ye conne*,                       *know\r\nSomewhat, to quiten* with the Knighte\u2019s tale.\u201d                    *match\r\nThe Miller that fordrunken was all pale,\r\nSo that unnethes* upon his horse he sat,                *with difficulty\r\nHe would avalen* neither hood nor hat,                          *uncover\r\nNor abide* no man for his courtesy,                         *give way to\r\nBut in Pilate\u2019s voice<1> he gan to cry,\r\nAnd swore by armes, and by blood, and bones,\r\n\u201cI can a noble tale for the nones*                            *occasion,\r\nWith which I will now quite* the Knighte\u2019s tale.\u201d                 *match\r\nOur Host saw well how drunk he was of ale,\r\nAnd said; \u201cRobin, abide, my leve* brother,                         *dear\r\nSome better man shall tell us first another:\r\nAbide, and let us worke thriftily.\u201d\r\nBy Godde\u2019s soul,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthat will not I,\r\nFor I will speak, or elles go my way!\u201d\r\nOur Host answer\u2019d; \u201c*Tell on a devil way*;             *devil take you!*\r\nThou art a fool; thy wit is overcome.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow hearken,\u201d quoth the Miller, \u201call and some:\r\nBut first I make a protestatioun.\r\nThat I am drunk, I know it by my soun\u2019:\r\nAnd therefore if that I misspeak or say,\r\n*Wite it* the ale of Southwark, I you pray:             *blame it on*<2>\r\nFor I will tell a legend and a life\r\nBoth of a carpenter and of his wife,\r\nHow that a clerk hath *set the wrighte\u2019s cap*.\u201d   *fooled the carpenter*\r\nThe Reeve answer\u2019d and saide, \u201c*Stint thy clap*,      *hold your tongue*\r\nLet be thy lewed drunken harlotry.\r\nIt is a sin, and eke a great folly\r\nTo apeiren* any man, or him defame,                              *injure\r\nAnd eke to bringe wives in evil name.\r\nThou may\u2019st enough of other thinges sayn.\u201d\r\nThis drunken Miller spake full soon again,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cLeve brother Osewold,\r\nWho hath no wife, he is no cuckold.\r\nBut I say not therefore that thou art one;\r\nThere be full goode wives many one.\r\nWhy art thou angry with my tale now?\r\nI have a wife, pardie, as well as thou,\r\nYet *n\u2019old I*, for the oxen in my plough,                  *I would not*\r\nTaken upon me more than enough,\r\nTo deemen* of myself that I am one;                               *judge\r\nI will believe well that I am none.\r\nAn husband should not be inquisitive\r\nOf Godde\u2019s privity, nor of his wife.\r\nSo he may finde Godde\u2019s foison* there,                         *treasure\r\nOf the remnant needeth not to enquere.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhat should I more say, but that this Millere\r\nHe would his wordes for no man forbear,\r\nBut told his churlish* tale in his mannere;               *boorish, rude\r\nMe thinketh, that I shall rehearse it here.\r\nAnd therefore every gentle wight I pray,\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love to deem not that I say\r\nOf evil intent, but that I must rehearse\r\nTheir tales all, be they better or worse,\r\nOr elles falsen* some of my mattere.                            *falsify\r\nAnd therefore whoso list it not to hear,\r\nTurn o\u2019er the leaf, and choose another tale;\r\nFor he shall find enough, both great and smale,\r\nOf storial* thing that toucheth gentiless,             *historical, true\r\nAnd eke morality and holiness.\r\nBlame not me, if that ye choose amiss.\r\nThe Miller is a churl, ye know well this,\r\nSo was the Reeve, with many other mo\u2019,\r\nAnd harlotry* they tolde bothe two.                        *ribald tales\r\n*Avise you* now, and put me out of blame;                    *be warned*\r\nAnd eke men should not make earnest of game*.                 *jest, fun\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Miller\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Pilate, an unpopular personage in the mystery-plays of the\r\nmiddle ages, was probably represented as having a gruff, harsh\r\nvoice.\r\n\r\n2. Wite: blame; in Scotland, \u201cto bear the wyte,\u201d is to bear the\r\nblame.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.\r\n\r\nWhilom there was dwelling in Oxenford\r\nA riche gnof*, that *guestes held to board*,   *miser *took in boarders*\r\nAnd of his craft he was a carpenter.\r\nWith him there was dwelling a poor scholer,\r\nHad learned art, but all his fantasy\r\nWas turned for to learn astrology.\r\nHe coude* a certain of conclusions                                 *knew\r\nTo deeme* by interrogations,                                  *determine\r\nIf that men asked him in certain hours,\r\nWhen that men should have drought or elles show\u2019rs:\r\nOr if men asked him what shoulde fall\r\nOf everything, I may not reckon all.\r\n\r\nThis clerk was called Hendy* Nicholas;                 *gentle, handsome\r\nOf derne* love he knew and of solace;                   *secret, earnest\r\nAnd therewith he was sly and full privy,\r\nAnd like a maiden meek for to see.\r\nA chamber had he in that hostelry\r\nAlone, withouten any company,\r\nFull *fetisly y-dight* with herbes swoot*,            *neatly decorated*\r\nAnd he himself was sweet as is the root                           *sweet\r\nOf liquorice, or any setewall*.                                *valerian\r\nHis Almagest,<1> and bookes great and small,\r\nHis astrolabe,<2>  belonging to his art,\r\nHis augrim stones,<3> layed fair apart\r\nOn shelves couched* at his bedde\u2019s head,                      *laid, set\r\nHis press y-cover\u2019d with a falding* red.                   *coarse cloth\r\nAnd all above there lay a gay psalt\u2019ry\r\nOn which he made at nightes melody,\r\nSo sweetely, that all the chamber rang:\r\nAnd Angelus ad virginem<4> he sang.\r\nAnd after that he sung the kinge\u2019s note;\r\nFull often blessed was his merry throat.\r\nAnd thus this sweete clerk his time spent\r\nAfter *his friendes finding and his rent.*    *Attending to his friends,\r\n                                                   and providing for the\r\n                                                    cost of his lodging*\r\nThis carpenter had wedded new a wife,\r\nWhich that he loved more than his life:\r\nOf eighteen year, I guess, she was of age.\r\nJealous he was, and held her narr\u2019w in cage,\r\nFor she was wild and young, and he was old,\r\nAnd deemed himself belike* a cuckold.                           *perhaps\r\nHe knew not Cato,<5> for his wit was rude,\r\nThat bade a man wed his similitude.\r\nMen shoulde wedden after their estate,\r\nFor youth and eld* are often at debate.                             *age\r\nBut since that he was fallen in the snare,\r\nHe must endure (as other folk) his care.\r\nFair was this younge wife, and therewithal\r\nAs any weasel her body gent* and small.                      *slim, neat\r\nA seint* she weared, barred all of silk,                         *girdle\r\nA barm-cloth* eke as white as morning milk                     *apron<6>\r\nUpon her lendes*, full of many a gore**.                  *loins **plait\r\nWhite was her smock*, and broider\u2019d all before,            *robe or gown\r\nAnd eke behind, on her collar about\r\nOf coal-black silk, within and eke without.\r\nThe tapes of her white volupere*                      *head-kerchief <7>\r\nWere of the same suit of her collere;\r\nHer fillet broad of silk, and set full high:\r\nAnd sickerly* she had a likerous** eye.          *certainly **lascivious\r\nFull small y-pulled were her browes two,\r\nAnd they were bent*, and black as any sloe.                      *arched\r\nShe was well more *blissful on to see*           *pleasant to look upon*\r\nThan is the newe perjenete* tree;                       *young pear-tree\r\nAnd softer than the wool is of a wether.\r\nAnd by her girdle hung a purse of leather,\r\nTassel\u2019d with silk, and *pearled with latoun*.   *set with brass pearls*\r\nIn all this world to seeken up and down\r\nThere is no man so wise, that coude thenche*            *fancy, think of\r\nSo gay a popelot*, or such a wench.                          *puppet <8>\r\nFull brighter was the shining of her hue,\r\nThan in the Tower the noble* forged new.                *a gold coin <9>\r\nBut of her song, it was as loud and yern*,                  *lively <10>\r\nAs any swallow chittering on a bern*.                              *barn\r\nThereto* she coulde skip, and *make a game*                 *also *romp*\r\nAs any kid or calf following his dame.\r\nHer mouth was sweet as braket,<11> or as methe*                    *mead\r\nOr hoard of apples, laid in hay or heath.\r\nWincing* she was as is a jolly colt,                           *skittish\r\nLong as a mast, and upright as a bolt.\r\nA brooch she bare upon her low collere,\r\nAs broad as is the boss of a bucklere.\r\nHer shoon were laced on her legges high;\r\nShe was a primerole,* a piggesnie <12>,                        *primrose\r\nFor any lord t\u2019 have ligging* in his bed,                         *lying\r\nOr yet for any good yeoman to wed.\r\n\r\nNow, sir, and eft* sir, so befell the case,                       *again\r\nThat on a day this Hendy Nicholas\r\nFell with this younge wife to rage* and play,       *toy, play the rogue\r\nWhile that her husband was at Oseney,<13>\r\nAs clerkes be full subtle and full quaint.\r\nAnd privily he caught her by the queint,*                          *cunt\r\nAnd said; \u201cY-wis,* but if I have my will,                     *assuredly\r\nFor *derne love of thee, leman, I spill.\u201d*     *for earnest love of thee\r\nAnd helde her fast by the haunche bones,          my mistress, I perish*\r\nAnd saide \u201cLeman, love me well at once,\r\nOr I will dien, all so God me save.\u201d\r\nAnd she sprang as a colt doth in the trave<14>:\r\nAnd with her head she writhed fast away,\r\nAnd said; \u201cI will not kiss thee, by my fay*.                      *faith\r\nWhy let be,\u201d quoth she, \u201clet be, Nicholas,\r\nOr I will cry out harow and alas!<15>\r\nDo away your handes, for your courtesy.\u201d\r\nThis Nicholas gan mercy for to cry,\r\nAnd spake so fair, and proffer\u2019d him so fast,\r\nThat she her love him granted at the last,\r\nAnd swore her oath by Saint Thomas of Kent,\r\nThat she would be at his commandement,\r\nWhen that she may her leisure well espy.\r\n\u201cMy husband is so full of jealousy,\r\nThat but* ye waite well, and be privy,                           *unless\r\nI wot right well I am but dead,\u201d quoth she.\r\n\u201cYe muste be full derne* as in this case.\u201d                       *secret\r\n\u201cNay, thereof care thee nought,\u201d quoth Nicholas:\r\n\u201cA clerk had *litherly beset his while*,            *ill spent his time*\r\n*But if* he could a carpenter beguile.\u201d                          *unless\r\nAnd thus they were accorded and y-sworn\r\nTo wait a time, as I have said beforn.\r\nWhen Nicholas had done thus every deal*,                           *whit\r\nAnd thwacked her about the lendes* well,                          *loins\r\nHe kiss\u2019d her sweet, and taketh his psalt\u2019ry\r\nAnd playeth fast, and maketh melody.\r\nThen fell it thus, that to the parish church,\r\nOf Christe\u2019s owen workes for to wirch*,                            *work\r\nThis good wife went upon a holy day;\r\nHer forehead shone as bright as any day,\r\nSo was it washen, when she left her werk.\r\n\r\nNow was there of that church a parish clerk,\r\nThe which that was y-cleped Absolon.\r\nCurl\u2019d was his hair, and as the gold it shone,\r\nAnd strutted* as a fanne large and broad;                     *stretched\r\nFull straight and even lay his jolly shode*.               *head of hair\r\nHis rode* was red, his eyen grey as goose,                   *complexion\r\nWith Paule\u2019s windows carven on his shoes <16>\r\nIn hosen red he went full fetisly*.                    *daintily, neatly\r\nY-clad he was full small and properly,\r\nAll in a kirtle* of a light waget*;                   *girdle **sky blue\r\nFull fair and thicke be the pointes set,\r\nAnd thereupon he had a gay surplice,\r\nAs white as is the blossom on the rise*.                      *twig <17>\r\nA merry child he was, so God me save;\r\nWell could he letten blood, and clip, and shave,\r\nAnd make a charter of land, and a quittance.\r\nIn twenty manners could he trip and dance,\r\nAfter the school of Oxenforde tho*,<18>                            *then\r\nAnd with his legges caste to and fro;\r\nAnd playen songes on a small ribible*;                           *fiddle\r\nThereto he sung sometimes a loud quinible*                       *treble\r\nAnd as well could he play on a gitern.*                          *guitar\r\nIn all the town was brewhouse nor tavern,\r\nThat he not visited with his solas*,                       *mirth, sport\r\nThere as that any *garnard tapstere* was.           *licentious barmaid*\r\nBut sooth to say he was somedeal squaimous*                   *squeamish\r\nOf farting, and of speeche dangerous.\r\nThis Absolon, that jolly was and gay,\r\nWent with a censer on the holy day,\r\nCensing* the wives of the parish fast;              *burning incense for\r\nAnd many a lovely look he on them cast,\r\nAnd namely* on this carpenter\u2019s wife:                        *especially\r\nTo look on her him thought a merry life.\r\nShe was so proper, and sweet, and likerous.\r\nI dare well say, if she had been a mouse,\r\nAnd he a cat, he would *her hent anon*.           *have soon caught her*\r\nThis parish clerk, this jolly Absolon,\r\nHath in his hearte such a love-longing!\r\nThat of no wife took he none offering;\r\nFor courtesy he said he woulde none.\r\nThe moon at night full clear and brighte shone,\r\nAnd Absolon his gitern hath y-taken,\r\nFor paramours he thoughte for to waken,\r\nAnd forth he went, jolif* and amorous,                           *joyous\r\nTill he came to the carpentere\u2019s house,\r\nA little after the cock had y-crow,\r\nAnd *dressed him* under a shot window <19>,         *stationed himself.*\r\nThat was upon the carpentere\u2019s wall.\r\nHe singeth in his voice gentle and small;\r\n\u201cNow, dear lady, if thy will be,\r\nI pray that ye will rue* on me;\u201d                              *take pity\r\nFull well accordant to his giterning.\r\nThis carpenter awoke, and heard him sing,\r\nAnd spake unto his wife, and said anon,\r\nWhat Alison, hear\u2019st thou not Absolon,\r\nThat chanteth thus under our bower* wall?\u201d                      *chamber\r\nAnd she answer\u2019d her husband therewithal;\r\n\u201cYes, God wot, John, I hear him every deal.\u201d\r\nThis passeth forth; what will ye bet* than well?                 *better\r\n\r\nFrom day to day this jolly Absolon\r\nSo wooeth her, that him is woebegone.\r\nHe waketh all the night, and all the day,\r\nTo comb his lockes broad, and make him gay.\r\nHe wooeth her *by means and by brocage*,     *by presents and by agents*\r\nAnd swore he woulde be her owen page.\r\nHe singeth brokking* as a nightingale.                        *quavering\r\nHe sent her piment <20>, mead, and spiced ale,\r\nAnd wafers* piping hot out of the glede**:                *cakes **coals\r\nAnd, for she was of town, he proffer\u2019d meed.<21>\r\nFor some folk will be wonnen for richess,\r\nAnd some for strokes, and some with gentiless.\r\nSometimes, to show his lightness and mast\u2019ry,\r\nHe playeth Herod <22> on a scaffold high.\r\nBut what availeth him as in this case?\r\nSo loveth she the Hendy Nicholas,\r\nThat Absolon may *blow the bucke\u2019s horn*:                 *\u201cgo whistle\u201d*\r\nHe had for all his labour but a scorn.\r\nAnd thus she maketh Absolon her ape,\r\nAnd all his earnest turneth to a jape*.                            *jest\r\nFull sooth is this proverb, it is no lie;\r\nMen say right thus alway; the nighe sly\r\nMaketh oft time the far lief to be loth. <23>\r\nFor though that Absolon be wood* or wroth                           *mad\r\nBecause that he far was from her sight,\r\nThis nigh Nicholas stood still in his light.\r\nNow bear thee well, thou Hendy Nicholas,\r\nFor Absolon may wail and sing \u201cAlas!\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd so befell, that on a Saturday\r\nThis carpenter was gone to Oseney,\r\nAnd Hendy Nicholas and Alison\r\nAccorded were to this conclusion,\r\nThat Nicholas shall *shape him a wile*              *devise a stratagem*\r\nThe silly jealous husband to beguile;\r\nAnd if so were the game went aright,\r\nShe shoulde sleepen in his arms all night;\r\nFor this was her desire and his also.\r\nAnd right anon, withoute wordes mo\u2019,\r\nThis Nicholas no longer would he tarry,\r\nBut doth full soft unto his chamber carry\r\nBoth meat and drinke for a day or tway.\r\nAnd to her husband bade her for to say,\r\nIf that he asked after Nicholas,\r\nShe shoulde say, \u201cShe wist* not where he was;                      *knew\r\nOf all the day she saw him not with eye;\r\nShe trowed* he was in some malady,                             *believed\r\nFor no cry that her maiden could him call\r\nHe would answer, for nought that might befall.\u201d\r\nThus passed forth all thilke* Saturday,                            *that\r\nThat Nicholas still in his chamber lay,\r\nAnd ate, and slept, and didde what him list\r\nTill Sunday, that* the sunne went to rest.                         *when\r\nThis silly carpenter *had great marvaill*             *wondered greatly*\r\nOf Nicholas, or what thing might him ail,\r\nAnd said; \u201cI am adrad*, by Saint Thomas!               *afraid, in dread\r\nIt standeth not aright with Nicholas:\r\n*God shielde* that he died suddenly.                    *heaven forbid!*\r\nThis world is now full fickle sickerly*.                      *certainly\r\nI saw to-day a corpse y-borne to chirch,\r\nThat now on Monday last I saw him wirch*.                          *work\r\n\u201cGo up,\u201d quod he unto his knave*, \u201canon;                       *servant.\r\nClepe* at his door, or knocke with a stone:                        *call\r\nLook how it is, and tell me boldely.\u201d\r\nThis knave went him up full sturdily,\r\nAnd, at the chamber door while that he stood,\r\nHe cried and knocked as that he were wood:*                         *mad\r\n\u201cWhat how? what do ye, Master Nicholay?\r\nHow may ye sleepen all the longe day?\u201d\r\nBut all for nought, he hearde not a word.\r\nAn hole he found full low upon the board,\r\nWhere as the cat was wont in for to creep,\r\nAnd at that hole he looked in full deep,\r\nAnd at the last he had of him a sight.\r\nThis Nicholas sat ever gaping upright,\r\nAs he had kyked* on the newe moon.                          *looked <24>\r\nAdown he went, and told his master soon,\r\nIn what array he saw this ilke* man.                               *same\r\n\r\nThis carpenter to *blissen him* began,            *bless, cross himself*\r\nAnd said: \u201cNow help us, Sainte Frideswide.<25>\r\nA man wot* little what shall him betide.                          *knows\r\nThis man is fall\u2019n with his astronomy\r\nInto some woodness* or some agony.                              *madness\r\nI thought aye well how that it shoulde be.\r\nMen should know nought of Godde\u2019s privity*.                     *secrets\r\nYea, blessed be alway a lewed* man,                           *unlearned\r\nThat *nought but only his believe can*.                   *knows no more\r\nSo far\u2019d another clerk with astronomy:                than his \u201ccredo.\u201d*\r\nHe walked in the fieldes for to *pry\r\nUpon* the starres, what there should befall,             *keep watch on*\r\nTill he was in a marle pit y-fall.<26>\r\nHe saw not that. But yet, by Saint Thomas!\r\n*Me rueth sore of*  Hendy Nicholas:                *I am very sorry for*\r\nHe shall be *rated of* his studying,                       *chidden for*\r\nIf that I may, by Jesus, heaven\u2019s king!\r\nGet me a staff, that I may underspore*                         *lever up\r\nWhile that thou, Robin, heavest off the door:\r\nHe shall out of his studying, as I guess.\u201d\r\nAnd to the chamber door he gan him dress*                *apply himself.\r\nHis knave was a strong carl for the nonce,\r\nAnd by the hasp he heav\u2019d it off at once;\r\nInto the floor the door fell down anon.\r\nThis Nicholas sat aye as still as stone,\r\nAnd ever he gap\u2019d upward into the air.\r\nThe carpenter ween\u2019d* he were in despair,                       *thought\r\nAnd hent* him by the shoulders mightily,                         *caught\r\nAnd shook him hard, and cried spitously;*                       *angrily\r\n\u201cWhat, Nicholas? what how, man? look adown:\r\nAwake, and think on Christe\u2019s passioun.\r\nI crouche thee<27> from elves, and from wights*.                *witches\r\nTherewith the night-spell said he anon rights*,                *properly\r\nOn the four halves* of the house about,                         *corners\r\nAnd on the threshold of the door without.\r\n\u201cLord Jesus Christ, and Sainte Benedight,\r\nBlesse this house from every wicked wight,\r\nFrom the night mare, the white Pater-noster;\r\nWhere wonnest* thou now, Sainte Peter\u2019s sister?\u201d               *dwellest\r\nAnd at the last this Hendy Nicholas\r\nGan for to sigh full sore, and said; \u201cAlas!\r\nShall all time world be lost eftsoones* now?\u201d                 *forthwith\r\nThis carpenter answer\u2019d; \u201cWhat sayest thou?\r\nWhat? think on God, as we do, men that swink.*\u201d                  *labour\r\nThis Nicholas answer\u2019d; \u201cFetch me a drink;\r\nAnd after will I speak in privity\r\nOf certain thing that toucheth thee and me:\r\nI will tell it no other man certain.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis carpenter went down, and came again,\r\nAnd brought of mighty ale a large quart;\r\nAnd when that each of them had drunk his part,\r\nThis Nicholas his chamber door fast shet*,                         *shut\r\nAnd down the carpenter by him he set,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cJohn, mine host full lief* and dear,                  *loved\r\nThou shalt upon thy truthe swear me here,\r\nThat to no wight thou shalt my counsel wray*:                    *betray\r\nFor it is Christes counsel that I say,\r\nAnd if thou tell it man, thou art forlore:*                    *lost<28>\r\nFor this vengeance thou shalt have therefor,\r\nThat if thou wraye* me, thou shalt be wood**.\u201d             *betray **mad\r\n\u201cNay, Christ forbid it for his holy blood!\u201d\r\nQuoth then this silly man; \u201cI am no blab,*                       *talker\r\nNor, though I say it, am I *lief to gab*.               *fond of speech*\r\nSay what thou wilt, I shall it never tell\r\nTo child or wife, by him that harried Hell.\u201d                        <29>\r\n\r\n\u201cNow, John,\u201d quoth Nicholas, \u201cI will not lie,\r\nI have y-found in my astrology,\r\nAs I have looked in the moone bright,\r\nThat now on Monday next, at quarter night,\r\nShall fall a rain, and that so wild and wood*,                      *mad\r\nThat never half so great was Noe\u2019s flood.\r\nThis world,\u201d he said, \u201cin less than half an hour\r\nShall all be dreint*, so hideous is the shower:                 *drowned\r\nThus shall mankinde drench*, and lose their life.\u201d                *drown\r\nThis carpenter answer\u2019d; \u201cAlas, my wife!\r\nAnd shall she drench? alas, mine Alisoun!\u201d\r\nFor sorrow of this he fell almost adown,\r\nAnd said; \u201cIs there no remedy in this case?\u201d\r\n\u201cWhy, yes, for God,\u201d quoth Hendy Nicholas;\r\n\u201cIf thou wilt worken after *lore and rede*;        *learning and advice*\r\nThou may\u2019st not worken after thine own head.\r\nFor thus saith Solomon, that was full true:\r\nWork all by counsel, and thou shalt not rue*.                    *repent\r\nAnd if thou worke wilt by good counseil,\r\nI undertake, withoute mast or sail,\r\nYet shall I save her, and thee, and me.\r\nHast thou not heard how saved was Noe,\r\nWhen that our Lord had warned him beforn,\r\nThat all the world with water *should be lorn*?\u201d         *should perish*\r\n\u201cYes,\u201d quoth this carpenter,\u201d *full yore ago*.\u201d             *long since*\r\n\u201cHast thou not heard,\u201d quoth Nicholas, \u201calso\r\nThe sorrow of Noe, with his fellowship,\r\nThat he had ere he got his wife to ship?<30>\r\n*Him had been lever, I dare well undertake,\r\nAt thilke time, than all his wethers black,\r\nThat she had had a ship herself alone.*                   *see note <31>\r\nAnd therefore know\u2019st thou what is best to be done?\r\nThis asketh haste, and of an hasty thing\r\nMen may not preach or make tarrying.\r\nAnon go get us fast into this inn*                                *house\r\nA kneading trough, or else a kemelin*,                      *brewing-tub\r\nFor each of us; but look that they be large,\r\nIn whiche we may swim* as in a barge:                             *float\r\nAnd have therein vitaille suffisant\r\nBut for one day; fie on the remenant;\r\nThe water shall aslake* and go away                      *slacken, abate\r\nAboute prime* upon the nexte day.                         *early morning\r\nBut Robin may not know of this, thy knave*,                     *servant\r\nNor eke thy maiden Gill I may not save:\r\nAsk me not why: for though thou aske me\r\nI will not telle Godde\u2019s privity.\r\nSufficeth thee, *but if thy wit be mad*,                 *unless thou be\r\nTo have as great a grace as Noe had;                    out of thy wits*\r\nThy wife shall I well saven out of doubt.\r\nGo now thy way, and speed thee hereabout.\r\nBut when thou hast for her, and thee, and me,\r\nY-gotten us these kneading tubbes three,\r\nThen shalt thou hang them in the roof full high,\r\nSo that no man our purveyance* espy:              *foresight, providence\r\nAnd when thou hast done thus as I have said,\r\nAnd hast our vitaille fair in them y-laid,\r\nAnd eke an axe to smite the cord in two\r\nWhen that the water comes, that we may go,\r\nAnd break an hole on high upon the gable\r\nInto the garden-ward, over the stable,\r\nThat we may freely passe forth our way,\r\nWhen that the greate shower is gone away.\r\nThen shalt thou swim as merry, I undertake,\r\nAs doth the white duck after her drake:\r\nThen will I clepe,* \u2018How, Alison? How, John?                       *call\r\nBe merry: for the flood will pass anon.\u2019\r\nAnd thou wilt say, \u2018Hail, Master Nicholay,\r\nGood-morrow, I see thee well, for it is day.\u2019\r\nAnd then shall we be lordes all our life\r\nOf all the world, as Noe and his wife.\r\nBut of one thing I warne thee full right,\r\nBe well advised, on that ilke* night,                              *same\r\nWhen we be enter\u2019d into shippe\u2019s board,\r\nThat none of us not speak a single word,\r\nNor clepe nor cry, but be in his prayere,\r\nFor that is Godde\u2019s owen heste* dear.                           *command\r\nThy wife and thou must hangen far atween*,                      *asunder\r\nFor that betwixte you shall be no sin,\r\nNo more in looking than there shall in deed.\r\nThis ordinance is said: go, God thee speed\r\nTo-morrow night, when men be all asleep,\r\nInto our kneading tubbes will we creep,\r\nAnd sitte there, abiding Godde\u2019s grace.\r\nGo now thy way, I have no longer space\r\nTo make of this no longer sermoning:\r\nMen say thus: Send the wise, and say nothing:\r\nThou art so wise, it needeth thee nought teach.\r\nGo, save our lives, and that I thee beseech.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis silly carpenter went forth his way,\r\nFull oft he said, \u201cAlas! and Well-a-day!,\u2019\r\nAnd to his wife he told his privity,\r\nAnd she was ware, and better knew than he\r\nWhat all this *quainte cast was for to say*.        *strange contrivance\r\nBut natheless she fear\u2019d as she would dey,                        meant*\r\nAnd said: \u201cAlas! go forth thy way anon.\r\nHelp us to scape, or we be dead each one.\r\nI am thy true and very wedded wife;\r\nGo, deare spouse, and help to save our life.\u201d\r\nLo, what a great thing is affection!\r\nMen may die of imagination,\r\nSo deeply may impression be take.\r\nThis silly carpenter begins to quake:\r\nHe thinketh verily that he may see\r\nThis newe flood come weltering as the sea\r\nTo drenchen* Alison, his honey dear.                              *drown\r\nHe weepeth, waileth, maketh *sorry cheer*;          *dismal countenance*\r\nHe sigheth, with full many a sorry sough.*                        *groan\r\nHe go\u2019th, and getteth him a kneading trough,\r\nAnd after that a tub, and a kemelin,\r\nAnd privily he sent them to his inn:\r\nAnd hung them in the roof full privily.\r\nWith his own hand then made he ladders three,\r\nTo climbe by *the ranges and the stalks*    *the rungs and the uprights*\r\nUnto the tubbes hanging in the balks*;                            *beams\r\nAnd victualed them, kemelin, trough, and tub,\r\nWith bread and cheese, and good ale in a jub*,                      *jug\r\nSufficing right enough as for a day.\r\nBut ere that he had made all this array,\r\nHe sent his knave*, and eke his wench** also,            *servant **maid\r\nUpon his need* to London for to go.                            *business\r\nAnd on the Monday, when it drew to night,\r\nHe shut his door withoute candle light,\r\nAnd dressed* every thing as it should be.                      *prepared\r\nAnd shortly up they climbed all the three.\r\nThey satte stille well *a furlong way*.          *the time it would take\r\n\u201cNow, Pater noster, clum,\u201d<32> said Nicholay,         to walk a furlong*\r\nAnd \u201cclum,\u201d quoth John; and \u201cclum,\u201d said Alison:\r\nThis carpenter said his devotion,\r\nAnd still he sat and bidded his prayere,\r\nAwaking on the rain, if he it hear.\r\nThe deade sleep, for weary business,\r\nFell on this carpenter, right as I guess,\r\nAbout the curfew-time,<33> or little more,\r\nFor *travail of his ghost* he groaned sore,          *anguish of spirit*\r\n*And eft he routed, for his head mislay.*           *and then he snored,\r\nAdown the ladder stalked Nicholay;                for his head lay awry*\r\nAnd Alison full soft adown she sped.\r\nWithoute wordes more they went to bed,\r\n*There as* the carpenter was wont to lie:                        *where*\r\nThere was the revel, and the melody.\r\nAnd thus lay Alison and Nicholas,\r\nIn business of mirth and in solace,\r\nUntil the bell of laudes* gan to ring,       *morning service, at 3.a.m.\r\nAnd friars in the chancel went to sing.\r\n\r\nThis parish clerk, this amorous Absolon,\r\nThat is for love alway so woebegone,\r\nUpon the Monday was at Oseney\r\nWith company, him to disport and play;\r\nAnd asked upon cas* a cloisterer**                      *occasion **monk\r\nFull privily after John the carpenter;\r\nAnd he drew him apart out of the church,\r\nAnd said, \u201cI n\u2019ot;* I saw him not here wirch**          *know not **work\r\nSince Saturday; I trow that he be went\r\nFor timber, where our abbot hath him sent.\r\nAnd dwellen at the Grange a day or two:\r\nFor he is wont for timber for to go,\r\nOr else he is at his own house certain.\r\nWhere that he be, I cannot *soothly sayn.*\u201d              *say certainly*\r\nThis Absolon full jolly was and light,\r\nAnd thought, \u201cNow is the time to wake all night,\r\nFor sickerly* I saw him not stirring                          *certainly\r\nAbout his door, since day began to spring.\r\nSo may I thrive, but I shall at cock crow\r\nFull privily go knock at his window,\r\nThat stands full low upon his bower* wall:                      *chamber\r\nTo Alison then will I tellen all\r\nMy love-longing; for I shall not miss\r\nThat at the leaste way I shall her kiss.\r\nSome manner comfort shall I have, parfay*,                  *by my faith\r\nMy mouth hath itched all this livelong day:\r\nThat is a sign of kissing at the least.\r\nAll night I mette* eke I was at a feast.                         *dreamt\r\nTherefore I will go sleep an hour or tway,\r\nAnd all the night then will I wake and play.\u201d\r\nWhen that the first cock crowed had, anon\r\nUp rose this jolly lover Absolon,\r\nAnd him arrayed gay, *at point devise.*                *with exact care*\r\nBut first he chewed grains<34> and liquorice,\r\nTo smelle sweet, ere he had combed his hair.\r\nUnder his tongue a true love <35>  he bare,\r\nFor thereby thought he to be gracious.\r\n\r\nThen came he to the carpentere\u2019s house,\r\nAnd still he stood under the shot window;\r\nUnto his breast it raught*, it was so low;                      *reached\r\nAnd soft he coughed with a semisoun\u2019.*                         *low tone\r\n\u201cWhat do ye, honeycomb, sweet Alisoun?\r\nMy faire bird, my sweet cinamome*,                *cinnamon, sweet spice\r\nAwaken, leman* mine, and speak to me.                          *mistress\r\nFull little thinke ye upon my woe,\r\nThat for your love I sweat *there as* I go.                    *wherever\r\nNo wonder is that I do swelt* and sweat.                          *faint\r\nI mourn as doth a lamb after the teat\r\nY-wis*, leman, I have such love-longing,                      *certainly\r\nThat like a turtle* true is my mourning.                    *turtle-dove\r\nI may not eat, no more than a maid.\u201d\r\n\u201cGo from the window, thou jack fool,\u201d she said:\r\n\u201cAs help me God, it will not be, \u2018come ba* me.\u2019                    *kiss\r\nI love another, else I were to blame\u201d,\r\nWell better than thee, by Jesus, Absolon.\r\nGo forth thy way, or I will cast a stone;\r\nAnd let me sleep; *a twenty devil way*.         *twenty devils take ye!*\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth Absolon, \u201cand well away!\r\nThat true love ever was so ill beset:\r\nThen kiss me, since that it may be no bet*,                      *better\r\nFor Jesus\u2019 love, and for the love of me.\u201d\r\n\u201cWilt thou then go thy way therewith?\u201d , quoth she.\r\n\u201cYea, certes, leman,\u201d quoth this Absolon.\r\n\u201cThen make thee ready,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI come anon.\u201d\r\n[And unto Nicholas she said *full still*:               *in a low voice*\r\n\u201cNow peace, and thou shalt laugh anon thy fill.\u201d]<36>\r\nThis Absolon down set him on his knees,\r\nAnd said; \u201cI am a lord at all degrees:\r\nFor after this I hope there cometh more;\r\nLeman, thy grace, and, sweete bird, thine ore.*\u201d                 *favour\r\nThe window she undid, and that in haste.\r\n\u201cHave done,\u201d quoth she, \u201ccome off, and speed thee fast,\r\nLest that our neighebours should thee espy.\u201d\r\nThen Absolon gan wipe his mouth full dry.\r\nDark was the night as pitch or as the coal,\r\nAnd at the window she put out her hole,\r\nAnd Absolon him fell ne bet ne werse,\r\nBut with his mouth he kiss\u2019d her naked erse\r\nFull savourly. When he was ware of this,\r\nAback he start, and thought it was amiss;\r\nFor well he wist a woman hath no beard.\r\nHe felt a thing all rough, and long y-hair\u2019d,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cFy, alas! what have I do?\u201d\r\n\u201cTe he!\u201d quoth she, and clapt the window to;\r\nAnd Absolon went forth at sorry pace.\r\n\u201cA beard, a beard,\u201d said Hendy Nicholas;\r\n\u201cBy God\u2019s corpus, this game went fair and well.\u201d\r\nThis silly Absolon heard every deal*,                              *word\r\nAnd on his lip he gan for anger bite;\r\nAnd to himself he said, \u201cI shall thee quite*.     *requite, be even with\r\nWho rubbeth now, who frotteth* now his lips                        *rubs\r\nWith dust, with sand, with straw, with cloth, with chips,\r\nBut Absolon? that saith full oft, \u201cAlas!\r\nMy soul betake I unto Sathanas,\r\nBut me were lever* than all this town,\u201d quoth he                 *rather\r\nI this despite awroken* for to be.                             *revenged\r\nAlas! alas! that I have been y-blent*.\u201d                        *deceived\r\nHis hote love is cold, and all y-quent.*                       *quenched\r\nFor from that time that he had kiss\u2019d her erse,\r\nOf paramours he *sette not a kers,*                   *cared not a rush*\r\nFor he was healed of his malady;\r\nFull often paramours he gan defy,\r\nAnd weep as doth a child that hath been beat.\r\nA softe pace he went over the street\r\nUnto a smith, men callen Dan* Gerveis,                           *master\r\nThat in his forge smithed plough-harness;\r\nHe sharped share and culter busily.\r\nThis Absolon knocked all easily,\r\nAnd said; \u201cUndo, Gerveis, and that anon.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat, who art thou?\u201d \u201cIt is I, Absolon.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat? Absolon, what? Christe\u2019s sweete tree*,                     *cross\r\nWhy rise so rath*? hey! Benedicite,                               *early\r\nWhat aileth you? some gay girl,<37> God it wote,\r\nHath brought you thus upon the viretote:<38>\r\nBy Saint Neot, ye wot well what I mean.\u201d\r\nThis Absolon he raughte* not a bean                       *recked, cared\r\nOf all his play; no word again he gaf*,                           *spoke\r\nFor he had more tow on his distaff<39>\r\nThan Gerveis knew, and saide; \u201cFriend so dear,\r\nThat hote culter in the chimney here\r\nLend it to me, I have therewith to don*:                             *do\r\nI will it bring again to thee full soon.\u201d\r\nGerveis answered; \u201cCertes, were it gold,\r\nOr in a poke* nobles all untold,                                  *purse\r\nThou shouldst it have, as I am a true smith.\r\nHey! Christe\u2019s foot, what will ye do therewith?\u201d\r\n\u201cThereof,\u201d quoth Absolon, \u201cbe as be may;\r\nI shall well tell it thee another day:\u201d\r\nAnd caught the culter by the colde stele*.                       *handle\r\nFull soft out at the door he gan to steal,\r\nAnd went unto the carpentere\u2019s wall\r\nHe coughed first, and knocked therewithal\r\nUpon the window, light as he did ere*.                      *before <40>\r\nThis Alison answered; \u201cWho is there\r\nThat knocketh so? I warrant him a thief.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d quoth he, \u201cGod wot, my sweete lefe*,                   *love\r\nI am thine Absolon, my own darling.\r\nOf gold,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI have thee brought a ring,\r\nMy mother gave it me, so God me save!\r\nFull fine it is, and thereto well y-grave*:                    *engraved\r\nThis will I give to thee, if thou me kiss.\u201d\r\nNow Nicholas was risen up to piss,\r\nAnd thought he would *amenden all the jape*;          *improve the joke*\r\nHe shoulde kiss his erse ere that he scape:\r\nAnd up the window did he hastily,\r\nAnd out his erse he put full privily\r\nOver the buttock, to the haunche bone.\r\nAnd therewith spake this clerk, this Absolon,\r\n\u201cSpeak, sweete bird, I know not where thou art.\u201d\r\nThis Nicholas anon let fly a fart,\r\nAs great as it had been a thunder dent*;                     *peal, clap\r\nThat with the stroke he was well nigh y-blent*;                 *blinded\r\nBut he was ready with his iron hot,\r\nAnd Nicholas amid the erse he smote.\r\nOff went the skin an handbreadth all about.\r\nThe hote culter burned so his tout*,                             *breech\r\nThat for the smart he weened* he would die;                     *thought\r\nAs he were wood*, for woe he gan to cry,                            *mad\r\n\u201cHelp! water, water, help for Godde\u2019s heart!\u201d\r\n\r\nThis carpenter out of his slumber start,\r\nAnd heard one cry \u201cWater,\u201d as he were wood*,                        *mad\r\nAnd thought, \u201cAlas! now cometh Noe\u2019s flood.\u201d\r\nHe sat him up withoute wordes mo\u2019\r\nAnd with his axe he smote the cord in two;\r\nAnd down went all; he found neither to sell\r\nNor bread nor ale, till he came to the sell*,            *threshold <41>\r\nUpon the floor, and there in swoon he lay.\r\nUp started Alison and Nicholay,\r\nAnd cried out an \u201charow!\u201d <15>  in the street.\r\nThe neighbours alle, bothe small and great\r\nIn ranne, for to gauren* on this man,                             *stare\r\nThat yet in swoone lay, both pale and wan:\r\nFor with the fall he broken had his arm.\r\nBut stand he must unto his owen harm,\r\nFor when he spake, he was anon borne down\r\nWith Hendy Nicholas and Alisoun.\r\nThey told to every man that he was wood*;                           *mad\r\nHe was aghaste* so of Noe\u2019s flood,                               *afraid\r\nThrough phantasy, that of his vanity\r\nHe had y-bought him kneading-tubbes three,\r\nAnd had them hanged in the roof above;\r\nAnd that he prayed them for Godde\u2019s love\r\nTo sitten in the roof for company.\r\nThe folk gan laughen at his phantasy.\r\nInto the roof they kyken* and they gape,                    *peep, look.\r\nAnd turned all his harm into a jape*.                              *jest\r\nFor whatsoe\u2019er this carpenter answer\u2019d,\r\nIt was for nought, no man his reason heard.\r\nWith oathes great he was so sworn adown,\r\nThat he was holden wood in all the town.\r\nFor every clerk anon right held with other;\r\nThey said, \u201cThe man was wood, my leve* brother;\u201d                   *dear\r\nAnd every wight gan laughen at his strife.\r\nThus swived* was the carpentere\u2019s wife,                         *enjoyed\r\nFor all his keeping* and his jealousy;                             *care\r\nAnd Absolon hath kiss\u2019d her nether eye;\r\nAnd Nicholas is scalded in the tout.\r\nThis tale is done, and God save all the rout*.                  *company\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Miller\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Almagest: The book of Ptolemy the astronomer, which\r\nformed the canon of astrological science in the middle ages.\r\n\r\n2. Astrolabe:  \u201cAstrelagour,\u201d \u201castrelabore\u201d; a mathematical\r\ninstrument for taking the altitude of the sun or stars.\r\n\r\n3. \u201cAugrim\u201d is a corruption of algorithm, the Arabian term for\r\nnumeration; \u201caugrim stones,\u201d therefore were probably marked\r\nwith numerals, and used as counters.\r\n\r\n4. Angelus ad virginem: The Angel\u2019s salutation to Mary; Luke i.\r\n28.  It was the \u201cAve Maria\u201d of the Catholic Church service.\r\n\r\n5. Cato: Though Chaucer may have referred to the famous\r\nCensor, more probably the reference is merely to the \u201cMoral\r\nDistichs,\u201d which go under his name, though written after his\r\ntime; and in a supplement to which the quoted passage may be\r\nfound.\r\n\r\n6. Barm-cloth: apron; from Anglo-Saxon \u201cbarme,\u201d bosom or\r\nlap.\r\n\r\n7. Volupere: Head-gear, kerchief; from French, \u201cenvelopper,\u201d\r\nto wrap up.\r\n\r\n8. Popelet:  Puppet; but chiefly; young wench.\r\n\r\n9. Noble: nobles were gold coins of especial purity and\r\nbrightness; \u201cEx auro nobilissimi, unde nobilis vocatus,\u201d (made\r\nfrom the noblest (purest) gold, and therefore called nobles) says\r\nVossius.\r\n\r\n10. Yern: Shrill, lively; German, \u201cgern,\u201d willingly, cheerfully.\r\n\r\n11. Braket:  bragget, a sweet drink made of honey, spices, &c.\r\nIn some parts of the country, a drink made from honeycomb,\r\nafter the honey is extracted, is still called \u201cbragwort.\u201d\r\n\r\n12. Piggesnie: a fond term, like \u201cmy duck;\u201d from Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cpiga,\u201d a young maid; but Tyrwhitt associates it with the Latin,\r\n\u201cocellus,\u201d little eye, a fondling term, and suggests that the \u201cpigs-\r\neye,\u201d which is very small, was  applied in the same sense.\r\nDavenport and Butler both use the word pigsnie, the first for\r\n\u201cdarling,\u201d the second literally for \u201ceye;\u201d and Bishop Gardner,\r\n\u201cOn True Obedience,\u201d in his address to the reader, says: \u201cHow\r\nsoftly she was wont to chirpe him under the chin, and kiss him;\r\nhow prettily she could talk to him (how doth my sweet heart,\r\nwhat saith now pig\u2019s-eye).\u201d\r\n\r\n13. Oseney: A once well-known abbey near Oxford.\r\n\r\n14. Trave: travis; a frame in which unruly  horses were shod.\r\n\r\n15. Harow and Alas:  Haro! was an old Norman cry for redress\r\nor aid. The \u201cClameur de Haro\u201d was lately raised, under peculiar\r\ncircumstances, as the prelude to a legal protest, in Jersey.\r\n\r\n16. His shoes were  ornamented like the windows of St. Paul\u2019s,\r\nespecially like the old rose-window.\r\n\r\n17. Rise: Twig, bush; German, \u201cReis,\u201d a twig; \u201cReisig,\u201d a copse.\r\n\r\n18. Chaucer satirises the dancing of Oxford as he did the French\r\nof Stratford at Bow.\r\n\r\n19. Shot window: A projecting or bow window, whence it was\r\npossible shoot at any one approaching the door.\r\n\r\n20. Piment: A drink made with wine, honey, and spices.\r\n\r\n21. Because she was town-bred, he offered wealth, or money\r\nreward, for her love.\r\n\r\n22. Parish-clerks, like Absolon, had leading parts in the\r\nmysteries or religious plays; Herod was one of these parts,\r\nwhich may have been an object of competition among the\r\namateurs of the period.\r\n\r\n23 .\u201dThe nighe sly maketh oft time the far lief to be loth\u201d: a\r\nproverb; the cunning one near at hand oft makes the loving one\r\nafar off to be odious.\r\n\r\n24. Kyked: Looked; \u201ckeek\u201d is still used in some parts in the\r\nsense of \u201cpeep.\u201d\r\n\r\n25. Saint Frideswide was the patroness of a considerable priory\r\nat Oxford, and held there in high repute.\r\n\r\n26. Plato, in his \u201cTheatetus,\u201d tells this story of Thales; but\r\nit has since appeared in many other forms.\r\n\r\n27. Crouche: protect by signing the sign of the cross.\r\n\r\n28. Forlore: lost; german, \u201cverloren.\u201d\r\n\r\n29. Him that harried Hell: Christ who wasted or subdued hell: in\r\nthe middle ages, some very active exploits against the prince of\r\ndarkness and his powers were ascribed by the monkish tale-\r\ntellers to the saviour after he had \u201cdescended into hell.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. According to the old mysteries, Noah\u2019s wife refused to\r\ncome into the ark, and bade her husband row forth and get him\r\na new wife, because he was leaving her gossips in the town to\r\ndrown. Shem and his brothers got her shipped by main force;\r\nand Noah, coming forward to welcome her, was greeted with a\r\nbox on the ear.\r\n\r\n31. \u201cHim had been lever, I dare well undertake,\r\nAt thilke time, than all his wethers black,\r\nThat she had had a ship herself alone.\u201d\r\ni.e.\r\n\u201cAt that time he would have given all his black wethers, if she\r\nhad had an ark to herself.\u201d\r\n\r\n32. \u201cClum,\u201d like \u201cmum,\u201d a note of silence; but otherwise\r\nexplained as the humming sound made in repeating prayers;\r\nfrom the Anglo-Saxon, \u201cclumian,\u201d to mutter, speak in an under-\r\ntone, keep silence.\r\n\r\n33. Curfew-time: Eight in the evening, when, by the law of\r\nWilliam the Conqueror, all people were, on ringing of a bell, to\r\nextinguish fire and candle, and go to rest; hence the word\r\ncurfew, from French, \u201ccouvre-feu,\u201d cover-fire.\r\n\r\n34. Absolon chewed grains: these were grains of Paris, or\r\nParadise; a favourite spice.\r\n\r\n35. Under his tongue a true love he bare:  some sweet herb;\r\nanother reading, however, is \u201ca true love-knot,\u201d which may\r\nhave been of the nature of a charm.\r\n\r\n36. The two lines within brackets are not in most of the\r\neditions: they are taken from Urry; whether he supplied them or\r\nnot, they serve the purpose of a necessary explanation.\r\n\r\n37. Gay girl: As applied to a young woman of light manners,\r\nthis euphemistic phrase has enjoyed a wonderful vitality.\r\n\r\n38. Viretote: Urry reads \u201cmeritote,\u201d and explains it from\r\nSpelman as a game in which children made themselves giddy by\r\nwhirling on ropes.  In French, \u201cvirer\u201d means to turn; and the\r\nexplanation may, therefore, suit either reading. In modern slang\r\nparlance, Gerveis would probably have said, \u201con the rampage,\u201d\r\nor \u201con the swing\u201d \u2014 not very far from Spelman\u2019s rendering.\r\n\r\n39. He had more tow on his distaff: a proverbial saying: he was\r\nplaying a deeper game, had more serious business on hand.\r\n\r\n40. Ere: before; German, \u201ceher.\u201d\r\n\r\n41. Sell:  sill of the door, threshold; French, \u201cseuil,\u201d Latin,\r\n\u201csolum,\u201d the ground.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE REEVE\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nWHEN folk had laughed all at this nice case\r\nOf Absolon and Hendy Nicholas,\r\nDiverse folk diversely they said,\r\nBut for the more part they laugh\u2019d and play\u2019d;*           *were diverted\r\nAnd at this tale I saw no man him grieve,\r\nBut it were only Osewold the Reeve.\r\nBecause he was of carpenteres craft,\r\nA little ire is in his hearte laft*;                               *left\r\nHe gan to grudge* and blamed it a lite.**              *murmur **little.\r\n\u201cSo the* I,\u201d  quoth he, \u201cfull well could I him quite**   *thrive **match\r\nWith blearing* of a proude miller\u2019s eye,                    *dimming <1>\r\nIf that me list to speak of ribaldry.\r\nBut I am old; me list not play for age; <2>\r\nGrass time is done, my fodder is now forage.\r\nThis white top* writeth mine olde years;                           *head\r\nMine heart is also moulded* as mine hairs;                 *grown mouldy\r\nAnd I do fare as doth an open-erse*;                         *medlar <3>\r\nThat ilke* fruit is ever longer werse,                             *same\r\nTill it be rotten *in mullok or in stre*.    *on the ground or in straw*\r\nWe olde men, I dread, so fare we;\r\nTill we be rotten, can we not be ripe;\r\nWe hop* away, while that the world will pipe;                     *dance\r\nFor in our will there sticketh aye a nail,\r\nTo have an hoary head and a green tail,\r\nAs hath a leek; for though our might be gone,\r\nOur will desireth folly ever-in-one*:                       *continually\r\nFor when we may not do, then will we speak,\r\nYet in our ashes cold does fire reek.*                         *smoke<4>\r\nFour gledes* have we, which I shall devise**,         *coals ** describe\r\nVaunting, and lying, anger, covetise*.                     *covetousness\r\nThese foure sparks belongen unto eld.\r\nOur olde limbes well may be unweld*,                           *unwieldy\r\nBut will shall never fail us, that is sooth.\r\nAnd yet have I alway a coltes tooth,<5>\r\nAs many a year as it is passed and gone\r\nSince that my tap of life began to run;\r\nFor sickerly*, when I was born, anon                          *certainly\r\nDeath drew the tap of life, and let it gon:\r\nAnd ever since hath so the tap y-run,\r\nTill that almost all empty is the tun.\r\nThe stream of life now droppeth on the chimb.<6>\r\nThe silly tongue well may ring and chime\r\nOf wretchedness, that passed is full yore*:                        *long\r\nWith olde folk, save dotage, is no more. <7>\r\n\r\nWhen that our Host had heard this sermoning,\r\nHe gan to speak as lordly as a king,\r\nAnd said; \u201cTo what amounteth all this wit?\r\nWhat? shall we speak all day of holy writ?\r\nThe devil made a Reeve for to preach,\r\nAs of a souter* a shipman, or a leach**.                    *cobbler <8>\r\nSay forth thy tale, and tarry not the time:                **surgeon <9>\r\nLo here is Deptford, and \u2019tis half past prime:<10>\r\nLo Greenwich, where many a shrew is in.\r\nIt were high time thy tale to begin.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNow, sirs,\u201d quoth then this Osewold the Reeve,\r\nI pray you all that none of you do grieve,\r\nThough I answer, and somewhat set his hove*,                  *hood <11>\r\nFor lawful is *force off with force to shove.*           *to repel force\r\nThis drunken miller hath y-told us here                        by force*\r\nHow that beguiled was a carpentere,\r\nParaventure* in scorn, for I am one:                            *perhaps\r\nAnd, by your leave, I shall him quite anon.\r\nRight in his churlish termes will I speak,\r\nI pray to God his necke might to-break.\r\nHe can well in mine eye see a stalk,\r\nBut in his own he cannot see a balk.\u201d<12>\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Reeves Tale.\r\n\r\n\r\n 1. \u201cWith blearing of a proude miller\u2019s eye\u201d: dimming his eye;\r\nplaying off a joke on him.\r\n\r\n2. \u201cMe list not play for age\u201d: age takes away my zest for\r\ndrollery.\r\n\r\n3. The medlar, the fruit of the mespilus tree, is only edible when\r\nrotten.\r\n\r\n4. Yet in our ashes cold does fire reek: \u201cev\u2019n in our ashes live\r\ntheir wonted fires.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. A colt\u2019s tooth; a wanton humour, a relish for pleasure.\r\n\r\n6. Chimb: The rim of a barrel where the staves project beyond\r\nthe head.\r\n\r\n7. With olde folk, save dotage, is no more: Dotage is all that is\r\nleft them; that is, they can only dwell fondly, dote, on the past.\r\n\r\n8. Souter: cobbler; Scottice, \u201csutor;\u201d\u2019 from Latin, \u201csuere,\u201d to\r\nsew.\r\n\r\n9. \u201cEx sutore medicus\u201d  (a surgeon from a cobbler) and \u201cex\r\nsutore nauclerus\u201d (a  seaman or pilot from a cobbler) were both\r\nproverbial expressions in the Middle Ages.\r\n\r\n10. Half past prime: half-way between prime and tierce; about\r\nhalf-past seven in the morning.\r\n\r\n11. Set his hove; like \u201cset their caps;\u201d as in the description of\r\nthe Manciple in the Prologue, who \u201cset their aller cap\u201d.  \u201cHove\u201d\r\nor \u201choufe,\u201d means \u201chood;\u201d and the phrase signifies to be even\r\nwith, outwit.\r\n\r\n12. The illustration of the mote and the beam, from Matthew.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.<1>\r\n\r\nAt Trompington, not far from Cantebrig,*                      *Cambridge\r\nThere goes a brook, and over that a brig,\r\nUpon the whiche brook there stands a mill:\r\nAnd this is *very sooth* that I you tell.               *complete truth*\r\nA miller was there dwelling many a day,\r\nAs any peacock he was proud and gay:\r\nPipen he could, and fish, and nettes bete*,                     *prepare\r\nAnd turne cups, and wrestle well, and shete*.                     *shoot\r\nAye by his belt he bare a long pavade*,                         *poniard\r\nAnd of his sword full trenchant was the blade.\r\nA jolly popper* bare he in his pouch;                            *dagger\r\nThere was no man for peril durst him touch.\r\nA Sheffield whittle* bare he in his hose.                   *small knife\r\nRound was his face, and camuse* was his nose.                  *flat <2>\r\nAs pilled* as an ape\u2019s was his skull.                     *peeled, bald.\r\nHe was a market-beter* at the full.                             *brawler\r\nThere durste no wight hand upon him legge*,                         *lay\r\nThat he ne swore anon he should abegge*.             *suffer the penalty\r\n\r\nA thief he was, for sooth, of corn and meal,\r\nAnd that a sly, and used well to steal.\r\nHis name was *hoten deinous Simekin*        *called \u201cDisdainful Simkin\u201d*\r\nA wife he hadde, come of noble kin:\r\nThe parson of the town her father was.\r\nWith her he gave full many a pan of brass,\r\nFor that Simkin should in his blood ally.\r\nShe was y-foster\u2019d in a nunnery:\r\nFor Simkin woulde no wife, as he said,\r\nBut she were well y-nourish\u2019d, and a maid,\r\nTo saven his estate and yeomanry:\r\nAnd she was proud, and pert as is a pie*.                        *magpie\r\nA full fair sight it was to see them two;\r\nOn holy days before her would he go\r\nWith his tippet* y-bound about his head;                           *hood\r\nAnd she came after in a gite* of red,                          *gown <3>\r\nAnd Simkin hadde hosen of the same.\r\nThere durste no wight call her aught but Dame:\r\nNone was so hardy, walking by that way,\r\nThat with her either durste *rage or play*,                *use freedom*\r\n*But if* he would be slain by Simekin                            *unless\r\nWith pavade, or with knife, or bodekin.\r\nFor jealous folk be per\u2019lous evermo\u2019:\r\nAlgate* they would their wives *wende so*.           *unless *so behave*\r\nAnd eke for she was somewhat smutterlich*,                        *dirty\r\nShe was as dign* as water in a ditch,                             *nasty\r\nAnd all so full of hoker*, and bismare**.   *ill-nature **abusive speech\r\nHer thoughte that a lady should her spare*,        *not judge her hardly\r\nWhat for her kindred, and her nortelrie*           *nurturing, education\r\nThat she had learned in the nunnery.\r\n\r\nOne daughter hadde they betwixt them two\r\nOf twenty year, withouten any mo,\r\nSaving a child that was of half year age,\r\nIn cradle it lay, and was a proper page.*                           *boy\r\nThis wenche thick and well y-growen was,\r\nWith camuse* nose, and eyen gray as glass;                         *flat\r\nWith buttocks broad, and breastes round and high;\r\nBut right fair was her hair, I will not lie.\r\nThe parson of the town, for she was fair,\r\nIn purpose was to make of her his heir\r\nBoth of his chattels and his messuage,\r\nAnd *strange he made it* of her marriage.           *he made it a matter\r\nHis purpose was for to bestow her high                    of difficulty*\r\nInto some worthy blood of ancestry.\r\nFor holy Church\u2019s good may be dispended*                          *spent\r\nOn holy Church\u2019s blood that is descended.\r\nTherefore he would his holy blood honour\r\nThough that he holy Churche should devour.\r\n\r\nGreat soken* hath this miller, out of doubt,    *toll taken for grinding\r\nWith wheat and malt, of all the land about;\r\nAnd namely* there was a great college                        *especially\r\nMen call the Soler Hall at Cantebrege,<4>\r\nThere was their wheat and eke their malt y-ground.\r\nAnd on a day it happed in a stound*,                           *suddenly\r\nSick lay the manciple* of a malady,                         *steward <5>\r\nMen *weened wisly* that he shoulde die.              *thought certainly*\r\nFor which this miller stole both meal and corn\r\nAn hundred times more than beforn.\r\nFor theretofore he stole but courteously,\r\nBut now he was a thief outrageously.\r\nFor which the warden chid and made fare*,                          *fuss\r\nBut thereof *set the miller not a tare*;           *he cared not a rush*\r\nHe *crack\u2019d his boast,* and swore it was not so.            *talked big*\r\n\r\nThen were there younge poore scholars two,\r\nThat dwelled in the hall of which I say;\r\nTestif* they were, and lusty for to play;                *headstrong <6>\r\nAnd only for their mirth and revelry\r\nUpon the warden busily they cry,\r\nTo give them leave for but a *little stound*,               *short time*\r\nTo go to mill, and see their corn y-ground:\r\nAnd hardily* they durste lay their neck,                         *boldly\r\nThe miller should not steal them half a peck\r\nOf corn by sleight, nor them by force bereave*                *take away\r\nAnd at the last the warden give them leave:\r\nJohn hight the one, and Alein hight the other,\r\nOf one town were they born, that highte Strother,<7>\r\nFar in the North, I cannot tell you where.\r\nThis Alein he made ready all his gear,\r\nAnd on a horse the sack he cast anon:\r\nForth went Alein the clerk, and also John,\r\nWith good sword and with buckler by their side.\r\nJohn knew the way, him needed not no guide,\r\nAnd at the mill the sack adown he lay\u2019th.\r\n\r\nAlein spake first; \u201cAll hail, Simon, in faith,\r\nHow fares thy faire daughter, and thy wife.\u201d\r\n\u201cAlein, welcome,\u201d quoth Simkin, \u201cby my life,\r\nAnd John also: how now, what do ye here?\u201d\r\n\u201cBy God, Simon,\u201d quoth John, \u201cneed has no peer*.                  *equal\r\nHim serve himself behoves that has no swain*,                   *servant\r\nOr else he is a fool, as clerkes sayn.\r\nOur manciple I hope* he will be dead,                            *expect\r\nSo workes aye the wanges* in his head:                  *cheek-teeth <8>\r\nAnd therefore is I come, and eke Alein,\r\nTo grind our corn and carry it home again:\r\nI pray you speed us hence as well ye may.\u201d\r\n\u201cIt shall be done,\u201d quoth Simkin, \u201cby my fay.\r\nWhat will ye do while that it is in hand?\u201d\r\n\u201cBy God, right by the hopper will I stand,\u201d\r\nQuoth John, \u201cand see how that the corn goes in.\r\nYet saw I never, by my father\u2019s kin,\r\nHow that the hopper wagges to and fro.\u201d\r\nAlein answered, \u201cJohn, and wilt thou so?\r\nThen will I be beneathe, by my crown,\r\nAnd see how that the meale falls adown\r\nInto the trough, that shall be my disport*:                   *amusement\r\nFor, John, in faith I may be of your sort;\r\nI is as ill a miller as is ye.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis miller smiled at their nicety*,                         *simplicity\r\nAnd thought, \u201cAll this is done but for a wile.\r\nThey weenen* that no man may them beguile,                        *think\r\nBut by my thrift yet shall I blear their eye,<9>\r\nFor all the sleight in their philosophy.\r\nThe more *quainte knackes* that they make,           *odd little tricks*\r\nThe more will I steal when that I take.\r\nInstead of flour yet will I give them bren*.                       *bran\r\nThe greatest clerks are not the wisest men,\r\nAs whilom to the wolf thus spake the mare: <10>\r\nOf all their art ne count I not a tare.\u201d\r\nOut at the door he went full privily,\r\nWhen that he saw his time, softely.\r\nHe looked up and down, until he found\r\nThe clerkes\u2019 horse, there as he stood y-bound\r\nBehind the mill, under a levesell:*                          *arbour<11>\r\nAnd to the horse he went him fair and well,\r\nAnd stripped off the bridle right anon.\r\nAnd when the horse was loose, he gan to gon\r\nToward the fen, where wilde mares run,\r\nForth, with \u201cWehee!\u201d through thick and eke through thin.\r\nThis miller went again, no word he said,\r\nBut did his note*, and with these clerkes play\u2019d,         *business <12>\r\nTill that their corn was fair and well y-ground.\r\nAnd when the meal was sacked and y-bound,\r\nThen John went out, and found his horse away,\r\nAnd gan to cry, \u201cHarow, and well-away!\r\nOur horse is lost: Alein, for Godde\u2019s bones,\r\nStep on thy feet; come off, man, all at once:\r\nAlas! our warden has his palfrey lorn.*\u201d                           *lost\r\nThis Alein all forgot, both meal and corn;\r\nAll was out of his mind his husbandry*.              *careful watch over\r\n\u201cWhat, which way is he gone?\u201d he gan to cry.                   the corn*\r\nThe wife came leaping inward at a renne*,                           *run\r\nShe said; \u201cAlas! your horse went to the fen\r\nWith wilde mares, as fast as he could go.\r\nUnthank* come on his hand that bound him so           *ill luck, a curse\r\nAnd his that better should have knit the rein.\u201d\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth John, \u201cAlein, for Christes pain\r\nLay down thy sword, and I shall mine also.\r\nI is full wight*, God wate**, as is a roe.                *swift **knows\r\nBy Godde\u2019s soul he shall not scape us bathe*.                 *both <13>\r\nWhy n\u2019 had thou put the capel* in the lathe**?         *horse<14> **barn\r\nIll hail, Alein, by God thou is a fonne.*\u201d                         *fool\r\nThese silly clerkes have full fast y-run\r\nToward the fen, both Alein and eke John;\r\nAnd when the miller saw that they were gone,\r\nHe half a bushel of their flour did take,\r\nAnd bade his wife go knead it in a cake.\r\nHe said; I trow, the clerkes were afeard,\r\nYet can a miller *make a clerkes beard,*          *cheat a scholar* <15>\r\nFor all his art: yea, let them go their way!\r\nLo where they go! yea, let the children play:\r\nThey get him not so lightly, by my crown.\u201d\r\nThese silly clerkes runnen up and down\r\nWith \u201cKeep, keep; stand, stand; jossa*, warderere.                 *turn\r\nGo whistle thou, and I shall keep* him here.\u201d                     *catch\r\nBut shortly, till that it was very night\r\nThey coulde not, though they did all their might,\r\nTheir capel catch, he ran alway so fast:\r\nTill in a ditch they caught him at the last.\r\n\r\nWeary and wet, as beastes in the rain,\r\nComes silly John, and with him comes Alein.\r\n\u201cAlas,\u201d quoth John, \u201cthe day that I was born!\r\nNow are we driv\u2019n till hething* and till scorn.                 *mockery\r\nOur corn is stol\u2019n, men will us fonnes* call,                     *fools\r\nBoth the warden, and eke our fellows all,\r\nAnd namely* the miller, well-away!\u201d                          *especially\r\nThus plained John, as he went by the way\r\nToward the mill, and Bayard* in his hand.                 *the bay horse\r\nThe miller sitting by the fire he fand*.                          *found\r\nFor it was night, and forther* might they not,             *go their way\r\nBut for the love of God they him besought\r\nOf herberow* and ease, for their penny.                         *lodging\r\nThe miller said again,\u201d If there be any,\r\nSuch as it is, yet shall ye have your part.\r\nMine house is strait, but ye have learned art;\r\nYe can by arguments maken a place\r\nA mile broad, of twenty foot of space.\r\nLet see now if this place may suffice,\r\nOr make it room with speech, as is your guise.*\u201d                *fashion\r\n\u201cNow, Simon,\u201d said this John, \u201cby Saint Cuthberd\r\nAye is thou merry, and that is fair answer\u2019d.\r\nI have heard say, man shall take of two things,\r\nSuch as he findes, or such as he brings.\r\nBut specially I pray thee, hoste dear,\r\nGar <16> us have meat and drink, and make us cheer,\r\nAnd we shall pay thee truly at the full:\r\nWith empty hand men may not hawkes tull*.                        *allure\r\nLo here our silver ready for to spend.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis miller to the town his daughter send\r\nFor ale and bread, and roasted them a goose,\r\nAnd bound their horse, he should no more go loose:\r\nAnd them in his own chamber made a bed.\r\nWith sheetes and with chalons* fair y-spread,              *blankets<17>\r\nNot from his owen bed ten foot or twelve:\r\nHis daughter had a bed all by herselve,\r\nRight in the same chamber *by and by*:                    *side by side*\r\nIt might no better be, and cause why,\r\nThere was no *roomer herberow* in the place.           *roomier lodging*\r\nThey suppen, and they speaken of solace,\r\nAnd drinken ever strong ale at the best.\r\nAboute midnight went they all to rest.\r\nWell had this miller varnished his head;\r\nFull pale he was, fordrunken, and *nought red*.       *without his wits*\r\nHe yoxed*, and he spake thorough the nose,                     *hiccuped\r\nAs he were in the quakke*, or in the pose**.         *grunting **catarrh\r\nTo bed he went, and with him went his wife,\r\nAs any jay she light was and jolife,*                             *jolly\r\nSo was her jolly whistle well y-wet.\r\nThe cradle at her beddes feet was set,\r\nTo rock, and eke to give the child to suck.\r\nAnd when that drunken was all in the crock*                 *pitcher<18>\r\nTo bedde went the daughter right anon,\r\nTo bedde went Alein, and also John.\r\nThere was no more; needed them no dwale.<19>\r\nThis miller had, so wisly* bibbed ale,                        *certainly\r\nThat as a horse he snorted in his sleep,\r\nNor of his tail behind he took no keep*.                           *heed\r\nHis wife bare him a burdoun*, a full strong;                  *bass <20>\r\nMen might their routing* hearen a furlong.                      *snoring\r\n\r\nThe wenche routed eke for company.\r\nAlein the clerk, that heard this melody,\r\nHe poked John, and saide: \u201cSleepest thou?\r\nHeardest thou ever such a song ere now?\r\nLo what a compline<21> is y-mell* them all.                       *among\r\nA wilde fire upon their bodies fall,\r\nWho hearken\u2019d ever such a ferly* thing?                    *strange <22>\r\nYea, they shall have the flow\u2019r of ill ending!\r\nThis longe night there *tides me* no rest.                 *comes to me*\r\nBut yet no force*, all shall be for the best.                    *matter\r\nFor, John,\u201d said he, \u201cas ever may I thrive,\r\nIf that I may, yon wenche will I swive*.                 *enjoy carnally\r\nSome easement* has law y-shapen** us            *satisfaction **provided\r\nFor, John, there is a law that sayeth thus,\r\nThat if a man in one point be aggriev\u2019d,\r\nThat in another he shall be relievd.\r\nOur corn is stol\u2019n, soothly it is no nay,\r\nAnd we have had an evil fit to-day.\r\nAnd since I shall have none amendement\r\nAgainst my loss, I will have easement:\r\nBy Godde\u2019s soul, it shall none, other be.\u201d\r\nThis John answer\u2019d;  Alein, *avise thee*:                  *have a care*\r\nThe miller is a perilous man,\u201d he said,\r\n\u201cAnd if that he out of his sleep abraid*,                        *awaked\r\nHe mighte do us both a villainy*.\u201d                             *mischief\r\nAlein answer\u2019d; \u201cI count him not a fly.\r\nAnd up he rose, and by the wench he crept.\r\nThis wenche lay upright, and fast she slept,\r\nTill he so nigh was, ere she might espy,\r\nThat it had been too late for to cry:\r\nAnd, shortly for to say, they were at one.\r\nNow play, Alein, for I will speak of John.\r\n\r\nThis John lay still a furlong way <23> or two,\r\nAnd to himself he made ruth* and woe.                              *wail\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201cthis is a wicked jape*;                        *trick\r\nNow may I say, that I is but an ape.\r\nYet has my fellow somewhat for his harm;\r\nHe has the miller\u2019s daughter in his arm:\r\nHe auntred* him, and hath his needes sped,                   *adventured\r\nAnd I lie as a draff-sack in my bed;\r\nAnd when this jape is told another day,\r\nI shall be held a daffe* or a cockenay <24>                      *coward\r\nI will arise, and auntre* it, by my fay:                        *attempt\r\nUnhardy is unsely, <25> as men say.\u201d\r\nAnd up he rose, and softely he went\r\nUnto the cradle, and in his hand it hent*,                         *took\r\nAnd bare it soft unto his beddes feet.\r\nSoon after this the wife *her routing lete*,           *stopped snoring*\r\nAnd gan awake, and went her out to piss\r\nAnd came again and gan the cradle miss\r\nAnd groped here and there, but she found none.\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201cI had almost misgone\r\nI had almost gone to the clerkes\u2019 bed.\r\nEy! Benedicite, then had I foul y-sped.\u201d\r\nAnd forth she went, till she the cradle fand.\r\nShe groped alway farther with her hand\r\nAnd found the bed, and *thoughte not but good*        *had no suspicion*\r\nBecause that the cradle by it stood,\r\nAnd wist not where she was, for it was derk;\r\nBut fair and well she crept in by the clerk,\r\nAnd lay full still, and would have caught a sleep.\r\nWithin a while this John the Clerk up leap\r\nAnd on this goode wife laid on full sore;\r\nSo merry a fit had she not had *full yore*.            *for a long time*\r\nHe pricked hard and deep, as he were mad.\r\n\r\nThis jolly life have these two clerkes had,\r\nTill that the thirde cock began to sing.\r\nAlein wax\u2019d weary in the morrowing,\r\nFor he had swonken* all the longe night,                       *laboured\r\nAnd saide; \u201cFarewell, Malkin, my sweet wight.\r\nThe day is come, I may no longer bide,\r\nBut evermore, where so I go or ride,\r\nI is thine owen clerk, so have I hele.*\u201d                         *health\r\n\u201cNow, deare leman*,\u201d quoth she, \u201cgo, fare wele:              *sweetheart\r\nBut ere thou go, one thing I will thee tell.\r\nWhen that thou wendest homeward by the mill,\r\nRight at the entry of the door behind\r\nThou shalt a cake of half a bushel find,\r\nThat was y-maked of thine owen meal,\r\nWhich that I help\u2019d my father for to steal.\r\nAnd goode leman, God thee save and keep.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word she gan almost to weep.\r\nAlein uprose and thought, \u201cEre the day daw\r\nI will go creepen in by my fellaw:\u201d\r\nAnd found the cradle with his hand anon.\r\n\u201cBy God!\u201d thought he, \u201call wrong I have misgone:\r\nMy head is *totty of my swink* to-night,          *giddy from my labour*\r\nThat maketh me that I go not aright.\r\nI wot well by the cradle I have misgo\u2019;\r\nHere lie the miller and his wife also.\u201d\r\nAnd forth he went a twenty devil way\r\nUnto the bed, there as the miller lay.\r\nHe ween\u2019d* t\u2019 have creeped by his fellow John,                  *thought\r\nAnd by the miller in he crept anon,\r\nAnd caught him by the neck, and gan him shake,\r\nAnd said; \u201cThou John, thou swines-head, awake\r\nFor Christes soul, and hear a noble game!\r\nFor by that lord that called is Saint Jame,\r\nAs I have thries in this shorte night\r\nSwived the miller\u2019s daughter bolt-upright,\r\nWhile thou hast as a coward lain aghast*.\u201d                       *afraid\r\n\u201cThou false harlot,\u201d quoth the miller, \u201chast?\r\nAh, false traitor, false clerk,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cThou shalt be dead, by Godde\u2019s dignity,\r\nWho durste be so bold to disparage*                            *disgrace\r\nMy daughter, that is come of such lineage?\u201d\r\nAnd by the throate-ball* he caught Alein,                  *Adam\u2019s apple\r\nAnd he him hent* dispiteously** again,                 *seized **angrily\r\nAnd on the nose he smote him with his fist;\r\nDown ran the bloody stream upon his breast:\r\nAnd in the floor with nose and mouth all broke\r\nThey wallow, as do two pigs in a poke.\r\nAnd up they go, and down again anon,\r\nTill that the miller spurned* on a stone,                      *stumbled\r\nAnd down he backward fell upon his wife,\r\nThat wiste nothing of this nice strife:\r\nFor she was fall\u2019n asleep a little wight*                         *while\r\nWith John the clerk, that waked had all night:\r\nAnd with the fall out of her sleep she braid*.                     *woke\r\n\u201cHelp, holy cross of Bromeholm,\u201d <26> she said;\r\n\u201cIn manus tuas! <27> Lord, to thee I call.\r\nAwake, Simon, the fiend is on me fall;\r\nMine heart is broken; help; I am but dead:\r\nThere li\u2019th one on my womb and on mine head.\r\nHelp, Simkin, for these false clerks do fight\u201d\r\nThis John start up as fast as e\u2019er he might,\r\nAnd groped by the walles to and fro\r\nTo find a staff; and she start up also,\r\nAnd knew the estres* better than this John,                   *apartment\r\nAnd by the wall she took a staff anon:\r\nAnd saw a little shimmering of a light,\r\nFor at an hole in shone the moone bright,\r\nAnd by that light she saw them both the two,\r\nBut sickerly* she wist not who was who,                       *certainly\r\nBut as she saw a white thing in her eye.\r\nAnd when she gan this white thing espy,\r\nShe ween\u2019d* the clerk had wear\u2019d a volupere**;     *supposed **night-cap\r\nAnd with the staff she drew aye nere* and nere*,                 *nearer\r\nAnd ween\u2019d to have hit this Alein at the full,\r\nAnd smote the miller on the pilled* skull;                         *bald\r\nThat down he went, and cried,\u201d Harow! I die.\u201d\r\nThese clerkes beat him well, and let him lie,\r\nAnd greithen* them, and take their horse anon,        *make ready, dress\r\nAnd eke their meal, and on their way they gon:\r\nAnd at the mill door eke they took their cake\r\nOf half a bushel flour, full well y-bake.\r\n\r\nThus is the proude miller well y-beat,\r\nAnd hath y-lost the grinding of the wheat;\r\nAnd payed for the supper *every deal*                         *every bit\r\nOf Alein and of John, that beat him well;\r\nHis wife is swived, and his daughter als*;                         *also\r\nLo, such it is a miller to be false.\r\nAnd therefore this proverb is said full sooth,\r\n\u201c*Him thar not winnen well* that evil do\u2019th,   *he deserves not to gain*\r\nA guiler shall himself beguiled be:\u201d\r\nAnd God that sitteth high in majesty\r\nSave all this Company, both great and smale.\r\nThus have I quit* the Miller in my tale.         *made myself quits with\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Reeve\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The incidents of this tale were much relished in the Middle\r\nAges, and are found under various forms.  Boccaccio has told\r\nthem in the ninth day of his \u201cDecameron\u201d.\r\n\r\n2. Camuse: flat; French \u201ccamuse\u201d, snub-nosed.\r\n\r\n3. Gite: gown or coat; French \u201cjupe.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. Soler Hall: the hall or college at Cambridge with the gallery\r\nor upper storey; supposed to have been Clare Hall.\r\n(Transcribers note: later commentators identify it with King\u2019s\r\nHall, now merged with Trinity College)\r\n\r\n5. Manciple:  steward; provisioner of the hall. See also note 47\r\nto the prologue to the Tales.\r\n\r\n6. Testif: headstrong, wild-brained; French, \u201centete.\u201d\r\n\r\n7. Strother:  Tyrwhitt points to Anstruther, in Fife: Mr Wright\r\nto the Vale of Langstroth, in the West Riding of Yorkshire.\r\nChaucer has given the scholars a dialect that may have belonged\r\nto either district, although it more immediately suggests the\r\nmore northern of the two.\r\n(Transcribers note: later commentators have identified it with a\r\nnow vanished village near Kirknewton in Northumberland.\r\nThere was a well-known Alein of Strother in Chaucer\u2019s\r\nlifetime.)\r\n\r\n8. Wanges: grinders, cheek-teeth; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cWang,\u201d the\r\ncheek; German, \u201cWange.\u201d\r\n\r\n9. See note 1 to the Prologue to the Reeves Tale\r\n\r\n10. In the \u201cCento Novelle Antiche,\u201d the story is told of a mule,\r\nwhich pretends that his name is written on the bottom of his\r\nhind foot. The wolf attempts to read it, the mule kills him with a\r\nkick in the forehead; and the fox, looking on, remarks that\r\n\u201cevery man of letters is not wise.\u201d A similar story is told in\r\n\u201cReynard the Fox.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Levesell: an arbour; Anglo-Saxon, \u201clefe-setl,\u201d leafy seat.\r\n\r\n12. Noth:  business; German, \u201cNoth,\u201d necessity.\r\n\r\n13. Bathe: both; Scottice, \u201cbaith.\u201d\r\n\r\n14. Capel:  horse; Gaelic, \u201ccapall;\u201d French, \u201ccheval;\u201d Italian,\r\n\u201ccavallo,\u201d from Latin, \u201ccaballus.\u201d\r\n\r\n15. Make a clerkes beard: cheat a scholar; French, \u201cfaire la\r\nbarbe;\u201d and Boccaccio uses the proverb in the same sense.\r\n\r\n16. \u201cGar\u201d is Scotch for \u201ccause;\u201d some editions read, however,\r\n\u201cget us some\u201d.\r\n\r\n17. Chalons:  blankets, coverlets, made at Chalons in France.\r\n\r\n18. Crock: pitcher, cruse; Anglo-Saxon, \u201ccrocca;\u201d German,\r\n\u201ckrug;\u201d hence \u201ccrockery.\u201d\r\n\r\n19. Dwale: night-shade, Solanum somniferum, given to cause\r\nsleep.\r\n\r\n20. Burdoun: bass; \u201cburden\u201d of a song. It originally means the\r\ndrone of a bagpipe; French, \u201cbourdon.\u201d\r\n\r\n21. Compline: even-song in the church service; chorus.\r\n\r\n22. Ferly: strange. In Scotland, a \u201cferlie\u201d is an unwonted or\r\nremarkable sight.\r\n\r\n23. A furlong way: As long as it might take to walk a furlong.\r\n\r\n24. Cockenay: a term of contempt, probably borrowed from the\r\nkitchen; a cook, in base Latin, being termed \u201ccoquinarius.\u201d\r\ncompare French \u201ccoquin,\u201d rascal.\r\n\r\n25. Unhardy is unsely: the cowardly is unlucky; \u201cnothing\r\nventure, nothing have;\u201d German, \u201cunselig,\u201d unhappy.\r\n\r\n26. Holy cross of Bromeholm: A common adjuration at that\r\ntime; the cross or rood of the priory of Bromholm, in Norfolk,\r\nwas said to contain part of the real cross and therefore held in\r\nhigh esteem.\r\n\r\n27. In manus tuas: Latin, \u201cin your hands\u201d.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE COOK\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nTHE Cook of London, while the Reeve thus spake,\r\nFor joy he laugh\u2019d and clapp\u2019d him on the back:\r\n\u201cAha!\u201d quoth he, \u201cfor Christes passion,\r\nThis Miller had a sharp conclusion,\r\nUpon this argument of herbergage.*                              *lodging\r\nWell saide Solomon in his language,\r\nBring thou not every man into thine house,\r\nFor harbouring by night is perilous.\r\n*Well ought a man avised for to be*        *a man should take good heed*\r\nWhom that he brought into his privity.\r\nI pray to God to give me sorrow and care\r\nIf ever, since I highte* Hodge of Ware,                      *was called\r\nHeard I a miller better *set a-work*;                           *handled\r\nHe had a jape* of malice in the derk.                             *trick\r\nBut God forbid that we should stinte* here,                        *stop\r\nAnd therefore if ye will vouchsafe to hear\r\nA tale of me, that am a poore man,\r\nI will you tell as well as e\u2019er I can\r\nA little jape that fell in our city.\u201d\r\n\r\nOur Host answer\u2019d and said; \u201cI grant it thee.\r\nRoger, tell on; and look that it be good,\r\nFor many a pasty hast thou letten blood,\r\nAnd many a Jack of Dover<1> hast thou sold,\r\nThat had been twice hot and twice cold.\r\nOf many a pilgrim hast thou Christe\u2019s curse,\r\nFor of thy parsley yet fare they the worse.\r\nThat they have eaten in thy stubble goose:\r\nFor in thy shop doth many a fly go loose.\r\nNow tell on, gentle Roger, by thy name,\r\nBut yet I pray thee be not *wroth for game*;     *angry with my jesting*\r\nA man may say full sooth in game and play.\u201d\r\n\u201cThou sayst full sooth,\u201d quoth Roger, \u201cby my fay;\r\nBut sooth play quad play,<2> as the Fleming saith,\r\nAnd therefore, Harry Bailly, by thy faith,\r\nBe thou not wroth, else we departe* here,                  *part company\r\nThough that my tale be of an hostelere.*                      *innkeeper\r\nBut natheless, I will not tell it yet,\r\nBut ere we part, y-wis* thou shalt be quit.\u201d<3>               *assuredly\r\nAnd therewithal he laugh\u2019d and made cheer,<4>\r\nAnd told his tale, as ye shall after hear.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Cook\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Jack of Dover:  an article of cookery. (Transcriber\u2019s note:\r\nsuggested by some commentators to be a kind of pie, and by\r\nothers to be a fish)\r\n\r\n2. Sooth play quad play: true jest is no jest.\r\n\r\n3. It may be remembered that each pilgrim was bound to tell\r\ntwo stories; one on the way to Canterbury, the other returning.\r\n\r\n4. Made cheer: French, \u201cfit bonne mine;\u201d put on a pleasant\r\ncountenance.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.\r\n\r\nA prentice whilom dwelt in our city,\r\nAnd of a craft of victuallers was he:\r\nGalliard* he was, as goldfinch in the shaw**,            *lively **grove\r\nBrown as a berry, a proper short fellaw:\r\nWith lockes black, combed full fetisly.*                       *daintily\r\nAnd dance he could so well and jollily,\r\nThat he was called Perkin Revellour.\r\nHe was as full of love and paramour,\r\nAs is the honeycomb of honey sweet;\r\nWell was the wenche that with him might meet.\r\nAt every bridal would he sing and hop;\r\nHe better lov\u2019d the tavern than the shop.\r\nFor when there any riding was in Cheap,<1>\r\nOut of the shoppe thither would he leap,\r\nAnd, till that he had all the sight y-seen,\r\nAnd danced well, he would not come again;\r\nAnd gather\u2019d him a meinie* of his sort,              *company of fellows\r\nTo hop and sing, and make such disport:\r\nAnd there they *sette steven* for to meet             *made appointment*\r\nTo playen at the dice in such a street.\r\nFor in the towne was there no prentice\r\nThat fairer coulde cast a pair of dice\r\nThan Perkin could; and thereto *he was free    *he spent money liberally\r\nOf his dispence, in place of privity.*       where he would not be seen*\r\nThat found his master well in his chaffare,*                *merchandise\r\nFor oftentime he found his box full bare.\r\nFor, soothely, a prentice revellour,\r\nThat haunteth dice, riot, and paramour,\r\nHis master shall it in his shop abie*,                       *suffer for\r\nAll* have he no part of the minstrelsy.                        *although\r\nFor theft and riot they be convertible,\r\nAll can they play on *gitern or ribible.*             *guitar or rebeck*\r\nRevel and truth, as in a low degree,\r\nThey be full wroth* all day, as men may see.                *at variance\r\n\r\nThis jolly prentice with his master bode,\r\nTill he was nigh out of his prenticehood,\r\nAll were he snubbed* both early and late,                       *rebuked\r\nAnd sometimes led with revel to Newgate.\r\nBut at the last his master him bethought,\r\nUpon a day when he his paper<2> sought,\r\nOf a proverb, that saith this same word;\r\nBetter is rotten apple out of hoard,\r\nThan that it should rot all the remenant:\r\nSo fares it by a riotous servant;\r\nIt is well lesse harm to let him pace*,                        *pass, go\r\nThan he shend* all the servants in the place.                   *corrupt\r\nTherefore his master gave him a quittance,\r\nAnd bade him go, with sorrow and mischance.\r\nAnd thus this jolly prentice had his leve*:                      *desire\r\nNow let him riot all the night, or leave*.                      *refrain\r\nAnd, for there is no thief without a louke,<3>\r\nThat helpeth him to wasten and to souk*                           *spend\r\nOf that he bribe* can, or borrow may,                             *steal\r\nAnon he sent his bed and his array\r\nUnto a compere* of his owen sort,                               *comrade\r\nThat loved dice, and riot, and disport;\r\nAnd had a wife, that held *for countenance*            *for appearances*\r\nA shop, and swived* for her sustenance.             *prostituted herself\r\n       .       .       .       .       .       .       . <4>\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Cook\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Cheapside, where jousts were sometimes held, and which\r\nwas the great scene of city revels and processions.\r\n\r\n2. His paper: his certificate of completion of his apprenticeship.\r\n\r\n3. Louke:  The precise meaning of the word is unknown, but it\r\nis doubtless included in the cant term \u201cpal\u201d.\r\n\r\n4. The Cook\u2019s Tale is unfinished in all the manuscripts; but in\r\nsome, of minor authority, the Cook is made to break off his\r\ntale, because \u201cit is so foul,\u201d and to tell the story of Gamelyn, on\r\nwhich Shakespeare\u2019s \u201cAs You Like It\u201d is founded. The story is\r\nnot Chaucer\u2019s, and is different in metre, and inferior in\r\ncomposition to the Tales. It is supposed that Chaucer expunged\r\nthe Cook\u2019s Tale for the same reason that made him on his death-\r\nbed lament that he had written so much \u201cribaldry.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE MAN OF LAW\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nOur Hoste saw well that the brighte sun\r\nTh\u2019 arc of his artificial day had run\r\nThe fourthe part, and half an houre more;\r\nAnd, though he were not deep expert in lore,\r\nHe wist it was the eight-and-twenty day\r\nOf April, that is messenger to May;\r\nAnd saw well that the shadow of every tree\r\nWas in its length of the same quantity\r\nThat was the body erect that caused it;\r\nAnd therefore by the shadow he took his wit*,                 *knowledge\r\nThat Phoebus, which that shone so clear and bright,\r\nDegrees was five-and-forty clomb on height;\r\nAnd for that day, as in that latitude,\r\nIt was ten of the clock, he gan conclude;\r\nAnd suddenly he plight* his horse about.                     *pulled <1>\r\n\r\n\u201cLordings,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI warn you all this rout*,               *company\r\nThe fourthe partie of this day is gone.\r\nNow for the love of God and of Saint John\r\nLose no time, as farforth as ye may.\r\nLordings, the time wasteth night and day,\r\nAnd steals from us, what privily sleeping,\r\nAnd what through negligence in our waking,\r\nAs doth the stream, that turneth never again,\r\nDescending from the mountain to the plain.\r\nWell might Senec, and many a philosopher,\r\nBewaile time more than gold in coffer.\r\nFor loss of chattels may recover\u2019d be,\r\nBut loss of time shendeth* us, quoth he.                       *destroys\r\n\r\nIt will not come again, withoute dread,*\r\nNo more than will Malkin\u2019s maidenhead,<2>\r\nWhen she hath lost it in her wantonness.\r\nLet us not moulde thus in idleness.\r\n\u201cSir Man of Law,\u201d quoth he, \u201cso have ye bliss,\r\nTell us a tale anon, as forword* is.                        *the bargain\r\nYe be submitted through your free assent\r\nTo stand in this case at my judgement.\r\nAcquit you now, and *holde your behest*;             *keep your promise*\r\nThen have ye done your devoir* at the least.\u201d                      *duty\r\n\u201cHoste,\u201d quoth he, \u201cde par dieux jeo asente; <3>\r\nTo breake forword is not mine intent.\r\nBehest is debt, and I would hold it fain,\r\nAll my behest; I can no better sayn.\r\nFor such law as a man gives another wight,\r\nHe should himselfe usen it by right.\r\nThus will our text: but natheless certain\r\nI can right now no thrifty* tale sayn,                           *worthy\r\nBut Chaucer (though he *can but lewedly*         *knows but imperfectly*\r\nOn metres and on rhyming craftily)\r\nHath said them, in such English as he can,\r\nOf olde time, as knoweth many a man.\r\nAnd if he have not said them, leve* brother,                       *dear\r\nIn one book, he hath said them in another\r\nFor he hath told of lovers up and down,\r\nMore than Ovide made of mentioun\r\nIn his Epistolae, that be full old.\r\nWhy should I telle them, since they he told?\r\nIn youth he made of Ceyx and Alcyon,<4>\r\nAnd since then he hath spoke of every one\r\nThese noble wives, and these lovers eke.\r\nWhoso that will his large volume seek\r\nCalled the Saintes\u2019 Legend of Cupid:<5>\r\nThere may he see the large woundes wide\r\nOf Lucrece, and of Babylon Thisbe;\r\nThe sword of Dido for the false Enee;\r\nThe tree of Phillis for her Demophon;\r\nThe plaint of Diane, and of Hermion,\r\nOf Ariadne, and Hypsipile;\r\nThe barren isle standing in the sea;\r\nThe drown\u2019d Leander for his fair Hero;\r\nThe teares of Helene, and eke the woe\r\nOf Briseis, and Laodamia;\r\nThe cruelty of thee, Queen Medea,\r\nThy little children hanging by the halse*,                         *neck\r\nFor thy Jason, that was of love so false.\r\nHypermnestra, Penelop\u2019, Alcest\u2019,\r\nYour wifehood he commendeth with the best.\r\nBut certainly no worde writeth he\r\nOf *thilke wick\u2019* example of Canace,                       *that wicked*\r\nThat loved her own brother sinfully;\r\n(Of all such cursed stories I say, Fy),\r\nOr else of Tyrius Apollonius,\r\nHow that the cursed king Antiochus\r\nBereft his daughter of her maidenhead;\r\nThat is so horrible a tale to read,\r\nWhen he her threw upon the pavement.\r\nAnd therefore he, *of full avisement*,         *deliberately, advisedly*\r\nWould never write in none of his sermons\r\nOf such unkind* abominations;                                 *unnatural\r\nNor I will none rehearse, if that I may.\r\nBut of my tale how shall I do this day?\r\nMe were loth to be liken\u2019d doubteless\r\nTo Muses, that men call Pierides<6>\r\n(Metamorphoseos <7> wot what I mean),\r\nBut natheless I recke not a bean,\r\nThough I come after him with hawebake*;                        *lout <8>\r\nI speak in prose, and let him rhymes make.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word, he with a sober cheer\r\nBegan his tale, and said as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to The Man of Law\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Plight: pulled; the word is an obsolete past tense from\r\n\u201cpluck.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. No more than will Malkin\u2019s maidenhead: a proverbial saying;\r\nwhich, however, had obtained fresh point from the Reeve\u2019s\r\nTale, to which the host doubtless refers.\r\n\r\n3. De par dieux jeo asente: \u201cby God, I agree\u201d.  It is\r\ncharacteristic that the somewhat pompous Sergeant of Law\r\nshould couch his assent in the semi-barbarous French, then\r\nfamiliar in law procedure.\r\n\r\n4. Ceyx and Alcyon: Chaucer treats of these in the introduction\r\nto the poem called \u201cThe Book of the Duchess.\u201d  It relates to the\r\ndeath of Blanche, wife of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the\r\npoet\u2019s patron, and afterwards his connexion by marriage.\r\n\r\n5. The Saintes Legend of Cupid: Now called \u201cThe Legend of\r\nGood Women\u201d. The names of eight ladies mentioned here are\r\nnot in the \u201cLegend\u201d as it has come down to us; while those of\r\ntwo ladies in the \u201clegend\u201d \u2014 Cleopatra and Philomela \u2014 are her\r\nomitted.\r\n\r\n6. Not the Muses, who had their surname from the place near\r\nMount Olympus where the Thracians first worshipped them; but\r\nthe nine daughters of Pierus, king of Macedonia, whom he\r\ncalled the nine Muses, and who, being conquered in a contest\r\nwith the genuine sisterhood, were changed into birds.\r\n\r\n7. Metamorphoseos:  Ovid\u2019s.\r\n\r\n8. Hawebake: hawbuck, country lout; the common proverbial\r\nphrase, \u201cto put a rogue above a gentleman,\u201d may throw light on\r\nthe reading here, which is difficult.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nO scatheful harm, condition of poverty,\r\nWith thirst, with cold, with hunger so confounded;\r\nTo aske help thee shameth in thine hearte;\r\nIf thou none ask, so sore art thou y-wounded,\r\nThat very need unwrappeth all thy wound hid.\r\nMaugre thine head thou must for indigence\r\nOr steal, or beg, or borrow thy dispence*.                      *expense\r\n\r\nThou blamest Christ, and sayst full bitterly,\r\nHe misdeparteth* riches temporal;                          *allots amiss\r\nThy neighebour thou witest* sinfully,                           *blamest\r\nAnd sayst, thou hast too little, and he hath all:\r\n\u201cParfay (sayst thou) sometime he reckon shall,\r\nWhen that his tail shall *brennen in the glede*,      *burn in the fire*\r\nFor he not help\u2019d the needful in their need.\u201d\r\n\r\nHearken what is the sentence of the wise:\r\nBetter to die than to have indigence.\r\n*Thy selve* neighebour will thee despise,                    *that same*\r\nIf thou be poor, farewell thy reverence.\r\nYet of the wise man take this sentence,\r\nAlle the days of poore men be wick\u2019*,                      *wicked, evil\r\nBeware therefore ere thou come to that prick*.                    *point\r\n\r\nIf thou be poor, thy brother hateth thee,\r\nAnd all thy friendes flee from thee, alas!\r\nO riche merchants, full of wealth be ye,\r\nO noble, prudent folk, as in this case,\r\nYour bagges be not fill\u2019d with *ambes ace,*                   *two aces*\r\nBut with *six-cinque*, that runneth for your chance;<2>       *six-five*\r\nAt Christenmass well merry may ye dance.\r\n\r\nYe seeke land and sea for your winnings,\r\nAs wise folk ye knowen all th\u2019 estate\r\nOf regnes*;  ye be fathers of tidings,                         *kingdoms\r\nAnd tales, both of peace and of debate*:                *contention, war\r\nI were right now of tales desolate*,                     *barren, empty.\r\nBut that a merchant, gone in many a year,\r\nMe taught a tale, which ye shall after hear.\r\n\r\nIn Syria whilom dwelt a company\r\nOf chapmen rich, and thereto sad* and true,            *grave, steadfast\r\nClothes of gold, and satins rich of hue.\r\nThat widewhere* sent their spicery,                    *to distant parts\r\nTheir chaffare* was so thriftly** and so new,      *wares **advantageous\r\nThat every wight had dainty* to chaffare**              *pleasure **deal\r\nWith them, and eke to selle them their ware.\r\n\r\nNow fell it, that the masters of that sort\r\nHave *shapen them* to Rome for to wend,           *determined, prepared*\r\nWere it for chapmanhood* or for disport,                        *trading\r\nNone other message would they thither send,\r\nBut come themselves to Rome, this is the end:\r\nAnd in such place as thought them a vantage\r\nFor their intent, they took their herbergage.*                  *lodging\r\n\r\nSojourned have these merchants in that town\r\nA certain time as fell to their pleasance:\r\nAnd so befell, that th\u2019 excellent renown\r\nOf th\u2019 emperore\u2019s daughter, Dame Constance,\r\nReported was, with every circumstance,\r\nUnto these Syrian merchants in such wise,\r\nFrom day to day, as I shall you devise*                          *relate\r\n\r\nThis was the common voice of every man\r\n\u201cOur emperor of Rome, God him see*,                 *look on with favour\r\nA daughter hath, that since the the world began,\r\nTo reckon as well her goodness and beauty,\r\nWas never such another as is she:\r\nI pray to God in honour her sustene*,                           *sustain\r\nAnd would she were of all Europe the queen.\r\n\r\n\u201cIn her is highe beauty without pride,\r\nAnd youth withoute greenhood* or folly:        *childishness, immaturity\r\nTo all her workes virtue is her guide;\r\nHumbless hath slain in her all tyranny:\r\nShe is the mirror of all courtesy,\r\nHer heart a very chamber of holiness,\r\nHer hand minister of freedom for almess*.\u201d                   *almsgiving\r\n\r\nAnd all this voice was sooth, as God is true;\r\nBut now to purpose* let us turn again.                     *our tale <3>\r\nThese merchants have done freight their shippes new,\r\nAnd when they have this blissful maiden seen,\r\nHome to Syria then they went full fain,\r\nAnd did their needes*, as they have done yore,*     *business **formerly\r\nAnd liv\u2019d in weal*; I can you say no more.                   *prosperity\r\n\r\nNow fell it, that these merchants stood in grace*                *favour\r\nOf him that was the Soudan* of Syrie:                            *Sultan\r\nFor when they came from any strange place\r\nHe would of his benigne courtesy\r\nMake them good cheer, and busily espy*                          *inquire\r\nTidings of sundry regnes*, for to lear**                 *realms **learn\r\nThe wonders that they mighte see or hear.\r\n\r\nAmonges other thinges, specially\r\nThese merchants have him told of Dame Constance\r\nSo great nobless, in earnest so royally,\r\nThat this Soudan hath caught so great pleasance*               *pleasure\r\nTo have her figure in his remembrance,\r\nThat all his lust*, and all his busy cure**,            *pleasure **care\r\nWas for to love her while his life may dure.\r\n\r\nParaventure in thilke* large book,                                 *that\r\nWhich that men call the heaven, y-written was\r\nWith starres, when that he his birthe took,\r\nThat he for love should have his death, alas!\r\nFor in the starres, clearer than is glass,\r\nIs written, God wot, whoso could it read,\r\nThe death of every man withoute dread.*                           *doubt\r\n\r\nIn starres many a winter therebeforn\r\nWas writ the death of Hector, Achilles,\r\nOf Pompey, Julius, ere they were born;\r\nThe strife of Thebes; and of Hercules,\r\nOf Samson, Turnus, and of Socrates\r\nThe death; but mennes wittes be so dull,\r\nThat no wight can well read it at the full.\r\n\r\nThis Soudan for his privy council sent,\r\nAnd, *shortly of this matter for to pace*,          *to pass briefly by*\r\nHe hath to them declared his intent,\r\nAnd told them certain, but* he might have grace                  *unless\r\nTo have Constance, within a little space,\r\nHe was but dead; and charged them in hie*                         *haste\r\nTo shape* for his life some remedy.                            *contrive\r\n\r\nDiverse men diverse thinges said;\r\nAnd arguments they casten up and down;\r\nMany a subtle reason forth they laid;\r\nThey speak of magic, and abusion*;                            *deception\r\nBut finally, as in conclusion,\r\nThey cannot see in that none avantage,\r\nNor in no other way, save marriage.\r\n\r\nThen saw they therein such difficulty\r\nBy way of reason, for to speak all plain,\r\nBecause that there was such diversity\r\nBetween their bothe lawes, that they sayn,\r\nThey trowe* that no Christian prince would fain**   *believe **willingly\r\nWedden his child under our lawe sweet,\r\nThat us was given by Mahound* our prophete.                     *Mahomet\r\n\r\nAnd he answered: \u201cRather than I lose\r\nConstance, I will be christen\u2019d doubteless\r\nI must be hers, I may none other choose,\r\nI pray you hold your arguments in peace,<4>\r\nSave my life, and be not reckeless\r\nTo gette her that hath my life in cure,*                        *keeping\r\nFor in this woe I may not long endure.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhat needeth greater dilatation?\r\nI say, by treaty and ambassadry,\r\nAnd by the Pope\u2019s mediation,\r\nAnd all the Church, and all the chivalry,\r\nThat in destruction of Mah\u2019metry,*                         *Mahometanism\r\nAnd in increase of Christe\u2019s lawe dear,\r\nThey be accorded* so as ye may hear;                             *agreed\r\n\r\nHow that the Soudan, and his baronage,\r\nAnd all his lieges, shall y-christen\u2019d be,\r\nAnd he shall have Constance in marriage,\r\nAnd certain gold, I n\u2019ot* what quantity,                       *know not\r\nAnd hereto find they suffisant surety.\r\nThe same accord is sworn on either side;\r\nNow, fair Constance, Almighty God thee guide!\r\n\r\nNow woulde some men waiten, as I guess,\r\nThat I should tellen all the purveyance*,                     *provision\r\nThe which the emperor of his noblesse\r\nHath shapen* for his daughter, Dame Constance.                 *prepared\r\nWell may men know that so great ordinance\r\nMay no man tellen in a little clause,\r\nAs was arrayed for so high a cause.\r\n\r\nBishops be shapen with her for to wend,\r\nLordes, ladies, and knightes of renown,\r\nAnd other folk enough, this is the end.\r\nAnd notified is throughout all the town,\r\nThat every wight with great devotioun\r\nShould pray to Christ, that he this marriage\r\nReceive *in gree*, and speede this voyage.      *with good will, favour*\r\n\r\nThe day is comen of her departing, \u2014\r\nI say the woful fatal day is come,\r\nThat there may be no longer tarrying,\r\nBut forward they them dressen* all and some.        *prepare to set out*\r\nConstance, that was with sorrow all o\u2019ercome,\r\nFull pale arose, and dressed her to wend,\r\nFor well she saw there was no other end.\r\n\r\nAlas! what wonder is it though she wept,\r\nThat shall be sent to a strange nation\r\nFrom friendes, that so tenderly her kept,\r\nAnd to be bound under subjection\r\nof one, she knew not his condition?\r\nHusbands be all good, and have been *of yore*,                  *of old*\r\nThat knowe wives; I dare say no more.\r\n\r\n\u201cFather,\u201d she said, \u201cthy wretched child Constance,\r\nThy younge daughter, foster\u2019d up so soft,\r\nAnd you, my mother, my sov\u2019reign pleasance\r\nOver all thing, out-taken* Christ *on loft*,          *except  *on high*\r\nConstance your child her recommendeth oft\r\nUnto your grace; for I shall to Syrie,\r\nNor shall I ever see you more with eye.\r\n\r\n\u201cAlas! unto the barbarous nation\r\nI must anon, since that it is your will:\r\nBut Christ, that starf* for our redemption,                        *died\r\nSo give me grace his hestes* to fulfil.                        *commands\r\nI, wretched woman, *no force though I spill!*          *no matter though\r\nWomen are born to thraldom and penance,                        I perish*\r\nAnd to be under mannes governance.\u201d\r\n\r\nI trow at Troy when Pyrrhus brake the wall,\r\nOr Ilion burnt, or Thebes the city,\r\nNor at Rome for the harm through Hannibal,\r\nThat Romans hath y-vanquish\u2019d times three,\r\nWas heard such tender weeping for pity,\r\nAs in the chamber was for her parting;\r\nBut forth she must, whether she weep or sing.\r\n\r\nO firste moving cruel Firmament,<5>\r\nWith thy diurnal sway that crowdest* aye,     *pushest together, drivest\r\nAnd hurtlest all from East till Occident\r\nThat naturally would hold another way;\r\nThy crowding set the heav\u2019n in such array\r\nAt the beginning of this fierce voyage,\r\nThat cruel Mars hath slain this marriage.\r\n\r\nUnfortunate ascendant tortuous,\r\nOf which the lord is helpless fall\u2019n, alas!\r\nOut of his angle into the darkest house;\r\nO Mars, O Atyzar,<6> as in this case;\r\nO feeble Moon, unhappy is thy pace.*                           *progress\r\nThou knittest thee where thou art not receiv\u2019d,\r\nWhere thou wert well, from thennes art thou weiv\u2019d. <7>\r\n\r\nImprudent emperor of Rome, alas!\r\nWas there no philosopher in all thy town?\r\nIs no time bet* than other in such case?                         *better\r\nOf voyage is there none election,\r\nNamely* to folk of high condition,                           *especially\r\nNot *when a root is of a birth y-know?*     *when the nativity is known*\r\nAlas! we be too lewed*, or too slow.                           *ignorant\r\n\r\nTo ship was brought this woeful faire maid\r\nSolemnely, with every circumstance:\r\n\u201cNow Jesus Christ be with you all,\u201d she said.\r\nThere is no more,but \u201cFarewell, fair Constance.\u201d\r\nShe *pained her* to make good countenance.              *made an effort*\r\nAnd forth I let her sail in this manner,\r\nAnd turn I will again to my matter.\r\n\r\nThe mother of the Soudan, well of vices,\r\nEspied hath her sone\u2019s plain intent,\r\nHow he will leave his olde sacrifices:\r\nAnd right anon she for her council sent,\r\nAnd they be come, to knowe what she meant,\r\nAnd when assembled was this folk *in fere*,                   *together*\r\nShe sat her down, and said as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cLordes,\u201d she said, \u201cye knowen every one,\r\nHow that my son in point is for to lete*                        *forsake\r\nThe holy lawes of our Alkaron*,                                   *Koran\r\nGiven by God\u2019s messenger Mahomete:\r\nBut one avow to greate God I hete*,                             *promise\r\nLife shall rather out of my body start,\r\nThan Mahomet\u2019s law go out of mine heart.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat should us tiden* of this newe law,                 *betide, befall\r\nBut thraldom to our bodies, and penance,\r\nAnd afterward in hell to be y-draw,\r\nFor we *renied Mahound our creance?*         *denied Mahomet our belief*\r\nBut, lordes, will ye maken assurance,\r\nAs I shall say, assenting to my lore*?                           *advice\r\nAnd I shall make us safe for evermore.\u201d\r\n\r\nThey sworen and assented every man\r\nTo live with her and die, and by her stand:\r\nAnd every one, in the best wise he can,\r\nTo strengthen her shall all his friendes fand.*            *endeavour<8>\r\nAnd she hath this emprise taken in hand,\r\nWhich ye shall heare that I shall devise*;                       *relate\r\nAnd to them all she spake right in this wise.\r\n\r\n\u201cWe shall first feign us *Christendom to take*;   *embrace Christianity*\r\nCold water shall not grieve us but a lite*:                      *little\r\nAnd I shall such a feast and revel make,\r\nThat, as I trow, I shall the Soudan quite.*              *requite, match\r\nFor though his wife be christen\u2019d ne\u2019er so white,\r\nShe shall have need to wash away the red,\r\nThough she a fount of water with her led.\u201d\r\n\r\nO Soudaness*, root of iniquity,                               *Sultaness\r\nVirago thou, Semiramis the second!\r\nO serpent under femininity,\r\nLike to the serpent deep in hell y-bound!\r\nO feigned woman, all that may confound\r\nVirtue and innocence, through thy malice,\r\nIs bred in thee, as nest of every vice!\r\n\r\nO Satan envious! since thilke day\r\nThat thou wert chased from our heritage,\r\nWell knowest thou to woman th\u2019 olde way.\r\nThou madest Eve to bring us in servage*:                        *bondage\r\nThou wilt fordo* this Christian marriage:                          *ruin\r\nThine instrument so (well-away the while!)\r\nMak\u2019st thou of women when thou wilt beguile.\r\n\r\nThis Soudaness, whom I thus blame and warray*,          *oppose, censure\r\nLet privily her council go their way:\r\nWhy should I in this tale longer tarry?\r\nShe rode unto the Soudan on a day,\r\nAnd said him, that she would *reny her lay,*        *renounce her creed*\r\nAnd Christendom of priestes\u2019 handes fong*,                      *take<9>\r\nRepenting her she heathen was so long;\r\n\r\nBeseeching him to do her that honour,\r\nThat she might have the Christian folk to feast:\r\n\u201cTo please them I will do my labour.\u201d\r\nThe Soudan said, \u201cI will do at your hest,*\u201d                      *desire\r\nAnd kneeling, thanked her for that request;\r\nSo glad he was, he wist* not what to say.                          *knew\r\nShe kiss\u2019d her son, and home she went her way.\r\n\r\nArrived be these Christian folk to land\r\nIn Syria, with a great solemne rout,\r\nAnd hastily this Soudan sent his sond,*                         *message\r\nFirst to his mother, and all the realm about,\r\nAnd said, his wife was comen out of doubt,\r\nAnd pray\u2019d them for to ride again* the queen,                   *to meet\r\nThe honour of his regne* to sustene.                              *realm\r\n\r\nGreat was the press, and rich was the array\r\nOf Syrians and Romans met *in fere*.                        *in company*\r\nThe mother of the Soudan rich and gay\r\nReceived her with all so glad a cheer*                             *face\r\nAs any mother might her daughter dear\r\nAnd to the nexte city there beside\r\nA softe pace solemnely they ride.\r\n\r\nNought, trow I, the triumph of Julius\r\nOf which that Lucan maketh such a boast,\r\nWas royaller, or more curious,\r\nThan was th\u2019 assembly of this blissful host\r\nBut O this scorpion, this wicked ghost,*                         *spirit\r\nThe Soudaness, for all her flattering\r\nCast* under this full mortally to sting.                      *contrived\r\n\r\nThe Soudan came himself soon after this,\r\nSo royally, that wonder is to tell,\r\nAnd welcomed her with all joy and bliss.\r\nAnd thus in mirth and joy I let them dwell.\r\nThe fruit of his matter is that I tell;\r\nWhen the time came, men thought it for the best\r\nThat revel stint,* and men go to their rest.                      *cease\r\n\r\nThe time is come that this old Soudaness\r\nOrdained hath the feast of which I told,\r\nAnd to the feast the Christian folk them dress\r\nIn general, yea, bothe young and old.\r\nThere may men feast and royalty behold,\r\nAnd dainties more than I can you devise;\r\nBut all too dear they bought it ere they rise.\r\n\r\nO sudden woe, that ev\u2019r art successour\r\nTo worldly bliss! sprent* is with bitterness                  *sprinkled\r\nTh\u2019 end of our joy, of our worldly labour;\r\nWoe *occupies the fine* of our gladness.                *seizes the end*\r\nHearken this counsel, for thy sickerness*:                     *security\r\nUpon thy glade days have in thy mind\r\nThe unware* woe of harm, that comes behind.                  *unforeseen\r\n\r\nFor, shortly for to tell it at a word,\r\nThe Soudan and the Christians every one\r\nWere all *to-hewn and sticked* at the board,             *cut to pieces*\r\nBut it were only Dame Constance alone.\r\nThis olde Soudaness, this cursed crone,\r\nHad with her friendes done this cursed deed,\r\nFor she herself would all the country lead.\r\n\r\nNor there was Syrian that was converted,\r\nThat of the counsel of the Soudan wot*,                            *knew\r\nThat was not all to-hewn, ere he asterted*:                     *escaped\r\nAnd Constance have they ta\u2019en anon foot-hot*,               *immediately\r\nAnd in a ship all steereless,* God wot,                  *without rudder\r\nThey have her set, and bid her learn to sail\r\nOut of Syria *again-ward to Itale.*                      *back to Italy*\r\n\r\nA certain treasure that she thither lad,*                          *took\r\nAnd, sooth to say, of victual great plenty,\r\nThey have her giv\u2019n, and clothes eke she had\r\nAnd forth she sailed in the salte sea:\r\nO my Constance, full of benignity,\r\nO emperores younge daughter dear,\r\nHe that is lord of fortune be thy steer*!                 *rudder, guide\r\n\r\nShe bless\u2019d herself, and with full piteous voice\r\nUnto the cross of Christ thus saide she;\r\n\u201cO dear, O wealful* altar, holy cross,              *blessed, beneficent\r\nRed of the Lambes blood, full of pity,\r\nThat wash\u2019d the world from old iniquity,\r\nMe from the fiend and from his clawes keep,\r\nThat day that I shall drenchen* in the deepe.                     *drown\r\n\r\n\u201cVictorious tree, protection of the true,\r\nThat only worthy were for to bear\r\nThe King of Heaven, with his woundes new,\r\nThe white Lamb, that hurt was with a spear;\r\nFlemer* of fiendes out of him and her              *banisher, driver out\r\nOn which thy limbes faithfully extend,<10>\r\nMe keep, and give me might my life to mend.\u201d\r\n\r\nYeares and days floated this creature\r\nThroughout the sea of Greece, unto the strait\r\nOf Maroc*, as it was her a venture:                  *Morocco; Gibraltar\r\nOn many a sorry meal now may she bait,\r\nAfter her death full often may she wait*,                        *expect\r\nEre that the wilde waves will her drive\r\nUnto the place *there as* she shall arrive.                       *where\r\n\r\nMen mighten aske, why she was not slain?\r\nEke at the feast who might her body save?\r\nAnd I answer to that demand again,\r\nWho saved Daniel in the horrible cave,\r\nWhere every wight, save he, master or knave*,                   *servant\r\nWas with the lion frett*, ere he astart?**          *devoured ** escaped\r\nNo wight but God, that he bare in his heart.\r\n\r\nGod list* to shew his wonderful miracle                      *it pleased\r\nIn her, that we should see his mighty workes:\r\nChrist, which that is to every harm triacle*,             *remedy, salve\r\nBy certain meanes oft, as knowe clerkes*,                      *scholars\r\nDoth thing for certain ende, that full derk is\r\nTo manne\u2019s wit, that for our, ignorance\r\nNe cannot know his prudent purveyance*.                       *foresight\r\n\r\nNow since she was not at the feast y-slaw,*                       *slain\r\nWho kepte her from drowning in the sea?\r\nWho kepte Jonas in the fish\u2019s maw,\r\nTill he was spouted up at Nineveh?\r\nWell may men know, it was no wight but he\r\nThat kept the Hebrew people from drowning,\r\nWith drye feet throughout the sea passing.\r\n\r\nWho bade the foure spirits of tempest,<11>\r\nThat power have t\u2019 annoye land and sea,\r\nBoth north and south, and also west and east,\r\nAnnoye neither sea, nor land, nor tree?\r\nSoothly the commander of that was he\r\nThat from the tempest aye this woman kept,\r\nAs well when she awoke as when she slept.\r\n\r\nWhere might this woman meat and drinke have?\r\nThree year and more how lasted her vitaille*?                  *victuals\r\nWho fed the Egyptian Mary in the cave\r\nOr in desert? no wight but Christ *sans faille.*          *without fail*\r\nFive thousand folk it was as great marvaille\r\nWith loaves five and fishes two to feed\r\nGod sent his foison* at her greate need.                      *abundance\r\n\r\nShe drived forth into our ocean\r\nThroughout our wilde sea, till at the last\r\nUnder an hold*, that nempnen** I not can,                 *castle **name\r\nFar in Northumberland, the wave her cast\r\nAnd in the sand her ship sticked so fast\r\nThat thennes would it not in all a tide: <12>\r\nThe will of Christ was that she should abide.\r\n\r\nThe Constable of the castle down did fare*                           *go\r\nTo see this wreck, and all the ship he sought*,                *searched\r\nAnd found this weary woman full of care;\r\nHe found also the treasure that she brought:\r\nIn her language mercy she besought,\r\nThe life out of her body for to twin*,                           *divide\r\nHer to deliver of woe that she was in.\r\n\r\nA manner Latin corrupt <13> was her speech,\r\nBut algate* thereby was she understond.                    *nevertheless\r\nThe Constable, when him list no longer seech*,                   *search\r\nThis woeful woman brought he to the lond.\r\nShe kneeled down, and thanked *Godde\u2019s sond*;        *what God had sent*\r\nBut what she was she would to no man say\r\nFor foul nor fair, although that she should dey.*                   *die\r\n\r\nShe said, she was so mazed in the sea,\r\nThat she forgot her minde, by her truth.\r\nThe Constable had of her so great pity\r\nAnd eke his wife, that they wept for ruth:*                        *pity\r\nShe was so diligent withoute slouth\r\nTo serve and please every one in that place,\r\nThat all her lov\u2019d, that looked in her face.\r\n\r\nThe Constable and Dame Hermegild his wife\r\nWere Pagans, and that country every where;\r\nBut Hermegild lov\u2019d Constance as her life;\r\nAnd Constance had so long sojourned there\r\nIn orisons, with many a bitter tear,\r\nTill Jesus had converted through His grace\r\nDame Hermegild, Constabless of that place.\r\n\r\nIn all that land no Christians durste rout;*                   *assemble\r\nAll Christian folk had fled from that country\r\nThrough Pagans, that conquered all about\r\nThe plages* of the North by land and sea.               *regions, coasts\r\nTo Wales had fled the *Christianity                 *the Old Britons who\r\nOf olde Britons,* dwelling in this isle;                were Christians*\r\nThere was their refuge for the meanewhile.\r\n\r\nBut yet n\u2019ere* Christian Britons so exiled,                  *there were\r\nThat there n\u2019ere* some which in their privity                        not\r\nHonoured Christ, and heathen folk beguiled;\r\nAnd nigh the castle such there dwelled three:\r\nAnd one of them was blind, and might not see,\r\nBut* it were with thilk* eyen of his mind,               *except **those\r\nWith which men maye see when they be blind.\r\n\r\nBright was the sun, as in a summer\u2019s day,\r\nFor which the Constable, and his wife also,\r\nAnd Constance, have y-take the righte way\r\nToward the sea a furlong way or two,\r\nTo playen, and to roame to and fro;\r\nAnd in their walk this blinde man they met,\r\nCrooked and old, with eyen fast y-shet.*                           *shut\r\n\r\n\u201cIn the name of Christ,\u201d cried this blind Briton,\r\n\u201cDame Hermegild, give me my sight again!\u201d\r\nThis lady *wax\u2019d afrayed of that soun\u2019,*       *was alarmed by that cry*\r\nLest that her husband, shortly for to sayn,\r\nWould her for Jesus Christe\u2019s love have slain,\r\nTill Constance made her hold, and bade her wirch*                  *work\r\nThe will of Christ, as daughter of holy Church\r\n\r\nThe Constable wax\u2019d abashed* of that sight,                  *astonished\r\nAnd saide; *\u201cWhat amounteth all this fare?\u201d*             *what means all\r\nConstance answered; \u201cSir, it is Christ\u2019s might,               this ado?*\r\nThat helpeth folk out of the fiendes snare:\u201d\r\nAnd *so farforth* she gan our law declare,            *with such effect*\r\nThat she the Constable, ere that it were eve,\r\nConverted, and on Christ made him believe.\r\n\r\nThis Constable was not lord of the place\r\nOf which I speak, there as he Constance fand,*                    *found\r\nBut kept it strongly many a winter space,\r\nUnder Alla, king of Northumberland,\r\nThat was full wise, and worthy of his hand\r\nAgainst the Scotes, as men may well hear;\r\nBut turn I will again to my mattere.\r\n\r\nSatan, that ever us waiteth to beguile,\r\nSaw of Constance all her perfectioun,\r\nAnd *cast anon how he might quite her while;*    *considered how to have\r\nAnd made a young knight, that dwelt in that town,        revenge on her*\r\nLove her so hot of foul affectioun,\r\nThat verily him thought that he should spill*                    *perish\r\nBut* he of her might ones have his will.                         *unless\r\n\r\nHe wooed her, but it availed nought;\r\nShe woulde do no sinne by no way:\r\nAnd for despite, he compassed his thought\r\nTo make her a shameful death to dey;*                               *die\r\nHe waiteth when the Constable is away,\r\nAnd privily upon a night he crept\r\nIn Hermegilda\u2019s chamber while she slept.\r\n\r\nWeary, forwaked* in her orisons,                 *having been long awake\r\nSleepeth Constance, and Hermegild also.\r\nThis knight, through Satanas\u2019 temptation;\r\nAll softetly is to the bed y-go,*                                  *gone\r\nAnd cut the throat of Hermegild in two,\r\nAnd laid the bloody knife by Dame Constance,\r\nAnd went his way, there God give him mischance.\r\n\r\nSoon after came the Constable home again,\r\nAnd eke Alla that king was of that land,\r\nAnd saw his wife dispiteously* slain,                           *cruelly\r\nFor which full oft he wept and wrung his hand;\r\nAnd ill the bed the bloody knife he fand\r\nBy Dame Constance: Alas! what might she say?\r\nFor very woe her wit was all away.\r\n\r\nTo King Alla was told all this mischance\r\nAnd eke the time, and where, and in what wise\r\nThat in a ship was founden this Constance,\r\nAs here before ye have me heard devise:*                       *describe\r\nThe kinges heart for pity *gan agrise,*      *to be grieved, to tremble*\r\nWhen he saw so benign a creature\r\nFall in disease* and in misaventure.                           *distress\r\n\r\nFor as the lamb toward his death is brought,\r\nSo stood this innocent before the king:\r\nThis false knight, that had this treason wrought,\r\n*Bore her in hand* that she had done this thing:   *accused her falsely*\r\nBut natheless there was great murmuring\r\nAmong the people, that say they cannot guess\r\nThat she had done so great a wickedness.\r\n\r\nFor they had seen her ever virtuous,\r\nAnd loving Hermegild right as her life:\r\nOf this bare witness each one in that house,\r\nSave he that Hermegild slew with his knife:\r\nThis gentle king had *caught a great motife*         *been greatly moved\r\nOf this witness, and thought he would inquere           by the evidence*\r\nDeeper into this case, the truth to lear.*                        *learn\r\n\r\nAlas! Constance, thou has no champion,\r\nNor fighte canst thou not, so well-away!\r\nBut he that starf for our redemption,                              *died\r\nAnd bound Satan, and yet li\u2019th where he lay,\r\nSo be thy stronge champion this day:\r\nFor, but Christ upon thee miracle kithe,*                          *show\r\nWithoute guilt thou shalt be slain *as swithe.*            *immediately*\r\n\r\nShe set her down on knees, and thus she said;\r\n\u201cImmortal God, that savedest Susanne\r\nFrom false blame; and thou merciful maid,\r\nMary I mean, the daughter to Saint Anne,\r\nBefore whose child the angels sing Osanne,*                     *Hosanna\r\nIf I be guiltless of this felony,\r\nMy succour be, or elles shall I die.\u201d\r\n\r\nHave ye not seen sometime a pale face\r\n(Among a press) of him that hath been lad*                          *led\r\nToward his death, where he getteth no grace,\r\nAnd such a colour in his face hath had,\r\nMen mighte know him that was so bestad*                *bested, situated\r\nAmonges all the faces in that rout?\r\nSo stood Constance, and looked her about.\r\n\r\nO queenes living in prosperity,\r\nDuchesses, and ye ladies every one,\r\nHave some ruth* on her adversity!                                  *pity\r\nAn emperor\u2019s daughter, she stood alone;\r\nShe had no wight to whom to make her moan.\r\nO blood royal, that standest in this drede,*                     *danger\r\nFar be thy friendes in thy greate need!\r\n\r\nThis king Alla had such compassioun,\r\nAs gentle heart is full filled of pity,\r\nThat from his eyen ran the water down\r\n\u201cNow hastily do fetch a book,\u201d quoth he;\r\n\u201cAnd if this knight will sweare, how that she\r\nThis woman slew, yet will we us advise*                        *consider\r\nWhom that we will that shall be our justice.\u201d\r\n\r\nA Briton book, written with Evangiles,*                     *the Gospels\r\nWas  fetched, and on this book he swore anon\r\nShe guilty was; and, in the meanewhiles,\r\nAn hand him smote upon the necke bone,\r\nThat down he fell at once right as a stone:\r\nAnd both his eyen burst out of his face\r\nIn sight of ev\u2019rybody in that place.\r\n\r\nA voice was heard, in general audience,\r\nThat said; \u201cThou hast deslander\u2019d guilteless\r\nThe daughter of holy Church in high presence;\r\nThus hast thou done, and yet *hold I my peace?\u201d*    *shall I be silent?*\r\nOf this marvel aghast was all the press,\r\nAs mazed folk they stood every one\r\nFor dread of wreake,* save Constance alone.                   *vengeance\r\n\r\nGreat was the dread and eke the repentance\r\nOf them that hadde wrong suspicion\r\nUpon this sely* innocent Constance;                    *simple, harmless\r\nAnd for this miracle, in conclusion,\r\nAnd by Constance\u2019s mediation,\r\nThe king, and many another in that place,\r\nConverted was, thanked be Christe\u2019s grace!\r\n\r\nThis false knight was slain for his untruth\r\nBy judgement of Alla hastily;\r\nAnd yet Constance had of his death great ruth;*              *compassion\r\nAnd after this Jesus of his mercy\r\nMade Alla wedde full solemnely\r\nThis holy woman, that is so bright and sheen,\r\nAnd thus hath Christ y-made Constance a queen.\r\n\r\nBut who was woeful, if I shall not lie,\r\nOf this wedding but Donegild, and no mo\u2019,\r\nThe kinge\u2019s mother, full of tyranny?\r\nHer thought her cursed heart would burst in two;\r\nShe would not that her son had done so;\r\nHer thought it a despite that he should take\r\nSo strange a creature unto his make.*                     *mate, consort\r\n\r\nMe list not of the chaff nor of the stre*                         *straw\r\nMake so long a tale, as of the corn.\r\nWhat should I tellen of the royalty\r\nOf this marriage, or which course goes beforn,\r\nWho bloweth in a trump or in an horn?\r\nThe fruit of every tale is for to say;\r\nThey eat and drink, and dance, and sing, and play.\r\n\r\nThey go to bed, as it was skill* and right;                  *reasonable\r\nFor though that wives be full holy things,\r\nThey muste take in patience at night\r\nSuch manner* necessaries as be pleasings                        *kind of\r\nTo folk that have y-wedded them with rings,\r\nAnd lay *a lite* their holiness aside                      *a little of*\r\nAs for the time, it may no better betide.\r\n\r\nOn her he got a knave* child anon,                            *male <14>\r\nAnd to a Bishop and to his Constable eke\r\nHe took his wife to keep, when he is gone\r\nTo Scotland-ward, his foemen for to seek.\r\nNow fair Constance, that is so humble and meek,\r\nSo long is gone with childe till that still\r\nShe held her chamb\u2019r, abiding Christe\u2019s will\r\n\r\nThe time is come, a knave child she bare;\r\nMauricius at the font-stone they him call.\r\nThis Constable *doth forth come* a messenger,     *caused to come forth*\r\nAnd wrote unto his king that clep\u2019d was All\u2019,\r\nHow that this blissful tiding is befall,\r\nAnd other tidings speedful for to say\r\nHe* hath the letter, and forth he go\u2019th his way.     *i.e. the messenger\r\n\r\nThis messenger, to *do his avantage,*         *promote his own interest*\r\nUnto the kinge\u2019s mother rideth swithe,*                         *swiftly\r\nAnd saluteth her full fair in his language.\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cye may be glad and blithe,\r\nAnd thanke God an hundred thousand sithe;*                        *times\r\nMy lady queen hath child, withoute doubt,\r\nTo joy and bliss of all this realm about.\r\n\r\n\u201cLo, here the letter sealed of this thing,\r\nThat I must bear with all the haste I may:\r\nIf ye will aught unto your son the king,\r\nI am your servant both by night and day.\u201d\r\nDonegild answer\u2019d, \u201cAs now at this time, nay;\r\nBut here I will all night thou take thy rest,\r\nTo-morrow will I say thee what me lest.*\u201d                       *pleases\r\n\r\nThis messenger drank sadly* ale and wine,                      *steadily\r\nAnd stolen were his letters privily\r\nOut of his box, while he slept as a swine;\r\nAnd counterfeited was full subtilly\r\nAnother letter, wrote full sinfully,\r\nUnto the king, direct of this mattere\r\nFrom his Constable, as ye shall after hear.\r\n\r\nThis letter said, the queen deliver\u2019d was\r\nOf so horrible a fiendlike creature,\r\nThat in the castle none so hardy* was                             *brave\r\nThat any while he durst therein endure:\r\nThe mother was an elf by aventure\r\nBecome, by charmes or by sorcery,\r\nAnd every man hated her company.\r\n\r\nWoe was this king when he this letter had seen,\r\nBut to no wight he told his sorrows sore,\r\nBut with his owen hand he wrote again,\r\n\u201cWelcome the sond* of Christ for evermore                 *will, sending\r\nTo me, that am now learned in this lore:\r\nLord, welcome be thy lust* and thy pleasance,            *will, pleasure\r\nMy lust I put all in thine ordinance.\r\n\r\n\u201cKeepe*  this child, albeit foul or fair,                      *preserve\r\nAnd eke my wife, unto mine homecoming:\r\nChrist when him list may send to me an heir\r\nMore agreeable than this to my liking.\u201d\r\nThis letter he sealed, privily weeping.\r\nWhich to the messenger was taken soon,\r\nAnd forth he went, there is no more to do\u2019n.*                        *do\r\n\r\nO messenger full fill\u2019d of drunkenness,\r\nStrong is thy breath, thy limbes falter aye,\r\nAnd thou betrayest alle secretness;\r\nThy mind is lorn,* thou janglest as a jay;                         *lost\r\nThy face is turned in a new array;*                              *aspect\r\nWhere drunkenness reigneth in any rout,*                        *company\r\nThere is no counsel hid, withoute doubt.\r\n\r\nO Donegild, I have no English dign*                              *worthy\r\nUnto thy malice, and thy tyranny:\r\nAnd therefore to the fiend I thee resign,\r\nLet him indite of all thy treachery\r\n\u2018Fy, mannish,* fy! O nay, by God I lie;                 *unwomanly woman\r\nFy, fiendlike spirit! for I dare well tell,\r\nThough thou here walk, thy spirit is in hell.\r\n\r\nThis messenger came from the king again,\r\nAnd at the kinge\u2019s mother\u2019s court he light,*                   *alighted\r\nAnd she was of this messenger full fain,*                          *glad\r\nAnd pleased him in all that e\u2019er she might.\r\nHe drank, and *well his girdle underpight*;        *stowed away (liquor)\r\nHe slept, and eke he snored in his guise               under his girdle*\r\nAll night, until the sun began to rise.\r\n\r\nEft* were his letters stolen every one,                           *again\r\nAnd counterfeited letters in this wise:\r\nThe king commanded his Constable anon,\r\nOn pain of hanging and of high jewise,*                       *judgement\r\nThat he should suffer in no manner wise\r\nConstance within his regne* for to abide                        *kingdom\r\nThree dayes, and a quarter of a tide;\r\n\r\nBut in the same ship as he her fand,\r\nHer and her younge son, and all her gear,\r\nHe shoulde put, and crowd* her from the land,                      *push\r\nAnd charge her, that she never eft come there.\r\nO my Constance, well may thy ghost* have fear,                   *spirit\r\nAnd sleeping in thy dream be in penance,*                 *pain, trouble\r\nWhen Donegild cast* all this ordinance.**        *contrived **plan, plot\r\n\r\nThis messenger, on morrow when he woke,\r\nUnto the castle held the nexte* way,                            *nearest\r\nAnd to the constable the letter took;\r\nAnd when he this dispiteous* letter sey,**                  *cruel **saw\r\nFull oft he said, \u201cAlas, and well-away!\r\nLord Christ,\u201d quoth he, \u201chow may this world endure?\r\nSo full of sin is many a creature.\r\n\r\n\u201cO mighty God, if that it be thy will,\r\nSince thou art rightful judge, how may it be\r\nThat thou wilt suffer innocence to spill,*                 *be destroyed\r\nAnd wicked folk reign in prosperity?\r\nAh! good Constance, alas! so woe is me,\r\nThat I must be thy tormentor, or dey*                               *die\r\nA shameful death, there is no other way.\r\n\r\nWept bothe young and old in all that place,\r\nWhen that the king this cursed letter sent;\r\nAnd Constance, with a deadly pale face,\r\nThe fourthe day toward her ship she went.\r\nBut natheless she took in good intent\r\nThe will of Christ, and kneeling on the strond*           *strand, shore\r\nShe saide, \u201cLord, aye welcome be thy sond*        *whatever thou sendest\r\n\r\n\u201cHe that me kepte from the false blame,\r\nWhile I was in the land amonges you,\r\nHe can me keep from harm and eke from shame\r\nIn the salt sea, although I see not how\r\nAs strong as ever he was, he is yet now,\r\nIn him trust I, and in his mother dere,\r\nThat is to me my sail and eke my stere.\u201d*                 *rudder, guide\r\n\r\nHer little child lay weeping in her arm\r\nAnd, kneeling, piteously to him she said\r\n\u201cPeace, little son, I will do thee no harm:\u201d\r\nWith that her kerchief off her head she braid,*              *took, drew\r\nAnd over his little eyen she it laid,\r\nAnd in her arm she lulled it full fast,\r\nAnd unto heav\u2019n her eyen up she cast.\r\n\r\n\u201cMother,\u201d quoth she, \u201cand maiden bright, Mary,\r\nSooth is, that through a woman\u2019s eggement*        *incitement, egging on\r\nMankind was lorn,* and damned aye to die;                          *lost\r\nFor which thy child was on a cross y-rent:*               *torn, pierced\r\nThy blissful eyen saw all his torment,\r\nThen is there no comparison between\r\nThy woe, and any woe man may sustene.\r\n\r\n\u201cThou saw\u2019st thy child y-slain before thine eyen,\r\nAnd yet now lives my little child, parfay:*                 *by my faith\r\nNow, lady bright, to whom the woeful cryen,\r\nThou glory of womanhood, thou faire may,*                          *maid\r\nThou haven of refuge, bright star of day,\r\nRue* on my child, that of thy gentleness                      *take pity\r\nRuest on every rueful* in distress.                    *sorrowful person\r\n\r\n\u201cO little child, alas! what is thy guilt,\r\nThat never wroughtest sin as yet, pardie?*             *par Dieu; by God\r\nWhy will thine harde* father have thee spilt?**       *cruel **destroyed\r\nO mercy, deare Constable,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cAnd let my little child here dwell with thee:\r\nAnd if thou dar\u2019st not save him from blame,\r\nSo kiss him ones in his father\u2019s name.\u201d\r\n\r\nTherewith she looked backward to the land,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cFarewell, husband rutheless!\u201d\r\nAnd up she rose, and walked down the strand\r\nToward the ship, her following all the press:*                *multitude\r\nAnd ever she pray\u2019d her child to hold his peace,\r\nAnd took her leave, and with an holy intent\r\nShe blessed her, and to the ship she went.\r\n\r\nVictualed was the ship, it is no drede,*                          *doubt\r\nAbundantly for her a full long space:\r\nAnd other necessaries that should need*                       *be needed\r\nShe had enough, heried* be Godde\u2019s grace:                  *praised <15>\r\nFor wind and weather, Almighty God purchase,*                   *provide\r\nAnd bring her home; I can no better say;\r\nBut in the sea she drived forth her way.\r\n\r\nAlla the king came home soon after this\r\nUnto the castle, of the which I told,\r\nAnd asked where his wife and his child is;\r\nThe Constable gan about his heart feel cold,\r\nAnd plainly all the matter he him told\r\nAs ye have heard; I can tell it no better;\r\nAnd shew\u2019d the king his seal, and eke his letter\r\n\r\nAnd saide; \u201cLord, as ye commanded me\r\nOn pain of death, so have I done certain.\u201d\r\nThe messenger tormented* was, till he                          *tortured\r\nMuste beknow,* and tell it flat and plain,                 *confess <16>\r\nFrom night to night in what place he had lain;\r\nAnd thus, by wit and subtle inquiring,\r\nImagin\u2019d was by whom this harm gan spring.\r\n\r\nThe hand was known that had the letter wrote,\r\nAnd all the venom of the cursed deed;\r\nBut in what wise, certainly I know not.\r\nTh\u2019 effect is this, that Alla, *out of drede,*           *without doubt*\r\nHis mother slew, that may men plainly read,\r\nFor that she traitor was to her liegeance:*                  *allegiance\r\nThus ended olde Donegild with mischance.\r\n\r\nThe sorrow that this Alla night and day\r\nMade for his wife, and for his child also,\r\nThere is no tongue that it telle may.\r\nBut now will I again to Constance go,\r\nThat floated in the sea in pain and woe\r\nFive year and more, as liked Christe\u2019s sond,*           *decree, command\r\nEre that her ship approached to the lond.*                         *land\r\n\r\nUnder an heathen castle, at the last,\r\nOf which the name in my text I not find,\r\nConstance and eke her child the sea upcast.\r\nAlmighty God, that saved all mankind,\r\nHave on Constance and on her child some mind,\r\nThat fallen is in heathen hand eftsoon*                           *again\r\n*In point to spill,* as I shall tell you soon!             *in danger of\r\n                                                              perishing*\r\nDown from the castle came there many a wight\r\nTo gauren* on this ship, and on Constance:                  *gaze, stare\r\nBut shortly from the castle, on a night,\r\nThe lorde\u2019s steward, \u2014 God give him mischance, \u2014\r\nA thief that had *renied our creance,*                *denied our faith*\r\nCame to the ship alone, and said he would\r\nHer leman* be, whether she would or n\u2019ould.               *illicit lover\r\n\r\nWoe was this wretched woman then begone;\r\nHer child cri\u2019d, and she cried piteously:\r\nBut blissful Mary help\u2019d her right anon,\r\nFor, with her struggling well and mightily,\r\nThe thief fell overboard all suddenly,\r\nAnd in the sea he drenched* for vengeance,                      *drowned\r\nAnd thus hath Christ unwemmed* kept Constance.              *unblemished\r\n\r\nO foul lust of luxury! lo thine end!\r\nNot only that thou faintest* manne\u2019s mind,                    *weakenest\r\nBut verily thou wilt his body shend.*                           *destroy\r\nTh\u2019 end of thy work, or of thy lustes blind,\r\nIs complaining: how many may men find,\r\nThat not for work, sometimes, but for th\u2019 intent\r\nTo do this sin, be either slain or shent?\r\n\r\nHow may this weake woman have the strength\r\nHer to defend against this renegate?\r\nO Goliath, unmeasurable of length,\r\nHow mighte David make thee so mate?*                         *overthrown\r\nSo young, and of armour so desolate,*                            *devoid\r\nHow durst he look upon thy dreadful face?\r\nWell may men see it was but Godde\u2019s grace.\r\n\r\nWho gave Judith courage or hardiness\r\nTo slay him, Holofernes, in his tent,\r\nAnd to deliver out of wretchedness\r\nThe people of God? I say for this intent\r\nThat right as God spirit of vigour sent\r\nTo them, and saved them out of mischance,\r\nSo sent he might and vigour to Constance.\r\n\r\nForth went her ship throughout the narrow mouth\r\nOf *Jubaltare and Septe,* driving alway,           *Gibraltar and Ceuta*\r\nSometime west, and sometime north and south,\r\nAnd sometime east, full many a weary day:\r\nTill Christe\u2019s mother (blessed be she aye)\r\nHad shaped* through her endeless goodness            *resolved, arranged\r\nTo make an end of all her heaviness.\r\n\r\nNow let us stint* of Constance but a throw,**            *cease speaking\r\nAnd speak we of the Roman emperor,                          **short time\r\nThat out of Syria had by letters know\r\nThe slaughter of Christian folk, and dishonor\r\nDone to his daughter by a false traitor,\r\nI mean the cursed wicked Soudaness,\r\nThat at the feast *let slay both more and less.*       *caused both high\r\n                                                   and low to be killed*\r\nFor which this emperor had sent anon\r\nHis senator, with royal ordinance,\r\nAnd other lordes, God wot, many a one,\r\nOn Syrians to take high vengeance:\r\nThey burn and slay, and bring them to mischance\r\nFull many a day: but shortly this is th\u2019 end,\r\nHomeward to Rome they shaped them to wend.\r\n\r\nThis senator repaired with victory\r\nTo Rome-ward, sailing full royally,\r\nAnd met the ship driving, as saith the story,\r\nIn which Constance sat full piteously:\r\nAnd nothing knew he what she was, nor why\r\nShe was in such array; nor she will say\r\nOf her estate, although that she should dey.*                       *die\r\n\r\nHe brought her unto Rome, and to his wife\r\nHe gave her, and her younge son also:\r\nAnd with the senator she led her life.\r\nThus can our Lady bringen out of woe\r\nWoeful Constance, and many another mo\u2019:\r\nAnd longe time she dwelled in that place,\r\nIn holy works ever, as was her grace.\r\n\r\nThe senatores wife her aunte was,\r\nBut for all that she knew her ne\u2019er the more:\r\nI will no longer tarry in this case,\r\nBut to King Alla, whom I spake of yore,\r\nThat for his wife wept and sighed sore,\r\nI will return, and leave I will Constance\r\nUnder the senatores governance.\r\n\r\nKing Alla, which that had his mother slain,\r\nUpon a day fell in such repentance;\r\nThat, if I shortly tell it shall and plain,\r\nTo Rome he came to receive his penitance,\r\nAnd put him in the Pope\u2019s ordinance\r\nIn high and low, and Jesus Christ besought\r\nForgive his wicked works that he had wrought.\r\n\r\nThe fame anon throughout the town is borne,\r\nHow Alla king shall come on pilgrimage,\r\nBy harbingers that wente him beforn,\r\nFor which the senator, as was usage,\r\nRode *him again,* and many of his lineage,                 *to meet him*\r\nAs well to show his high magnificence,\r\nAs to do any king a reverence.\r\n\r\nGreat cheere* did this noble senator                           *courtesy\r\nTo King Alla and he to him also;\r\nEach of them did the other great honor;\r\nAnd so befell, that in a day or two\r\nThis senator did to King Alla go\r\nTo feast, and shortly, if I shall not lie,\r\nConstance\u2019s son went in his company.\r\n\r\nSome men would say,<17> at request of Constance\r\nThis senator had led this child to feast:\r\nI may not tellen every circumstance,\r\nBe as be may, there was he at the least:\r\nBut sooth is this, that at his mother\u2019s hest*                    *behest\r\nBefore Alla during *the meates space,*                       *meal time*\r\nThe child stood, looking in the kinges face.\r\n\r\nThis Alla king had of this child great wonder,\r\nAnd to the senator he said anon,\r\n\u201cWhose is that faire child that standeth yonder?\u201d\r\n\u201cI n\u2019ot,\u201d* quoth he, \u201cby God and by Saint John;                *know not\r\nA mother he hath, but father hath he none,\r\nThat I of wot:\u201d and shortly in a stound*                *short time <18>\r\nHe told to Alla how this child was found.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut God wot,\u201d quoth this senator also,\r\n\u201cSo virtuous a liver in all my life\r\nI never saw, as she, nor heard of mo\u2019\r\nOf worldly woman, maiden, widow or wife:\r\nI dare well say she hadde lever* a knife                         *rather\r\nThroughout her breast, than be a woman wick\u2019,*                   *wicked\r\nThere is no man could bring her to that prick.*                   *point\r\n\r\nNow was this child as like unto Constance\r\nAs possible is a creature to be:\r\nThis Alla had the face in remembrance\r\nOf Dame Constance, and thereon mused he,\r\nIf that the childe\u2019s mother *were aught she*              *could be she*\r\nThat was his wife; and privily he sight,*                        *sighed\r\nAnd sped him from the table *that he might.*       *as fast as he could*\r\n\r\n\u201cParfay,\u201d* thought he, \u201cphantom** is in mine head.          *by my faith\r\nI ought to deem, of skilful judgement,                       **a fantasy\r\nThat in the salte sea my wife is dead.\u201d\r\nAnd afterward he made his argument,\r\n\u201cWhat wot I, if that Christ have hither sent\r\nMy wife by sea, as well as he her sent\r\nTo my country, from thennes that she went?\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd, after noon, home with the senator.\r\nWent Alla, for to see this wondrous chance.\r\nThis senator did Alla great honor,\r\nAnd hastily he sent after Constance:\r\nBut truste well, her liste not to dance.\r\nWhen that she wiste wherefore was that sond,*                   *summons\r\nUnneth* upon her feet she mighte stand.                 *with difficulty\r\n\r\nWhen Alla saw his wife, fair he her gret,*                      *greeted\r\nAnd wept, that it was ruthe for to see,\r\nFor at the firste look he on her set\r\nHe knew well verily that it was she:\r\nAnd she, for sorrow, as dumb stood as a tree:\r\nSo was her hearte shut in her distress,\r\nWhen she remember\u2019d his unkindeness.\r\n\r\nTwice she swooned in his owen sight,\r\nHe wept and him excused piteously:\r\n\u201cNow God,\u201d quoth he, \u201cand all his hallows bright*                *saints\r\nSo wisly* on my soule have mercy,                                *surely\r\nThat of your harm as guilteless am I,\r\nAs is Maurice my son, so like your face,\r\nElse may the fiend me fetch out of this place.\u201d\r\n\r\nLong was the sobbing and the bitter pain,\r\nEre that their woeful heartes mighte cease;\r\nGreat was the pity for to hear them plain,*                      *lament\r\nThrough whiche plaintes gan their woe increase.\r\nI pray you all my labour to release,\r\nI may not tell all their woe till to-morrow,\r\nI am so weary for to speak of sorrow.\r\n\r\nBut finally, when that the *sooth is wist,*             *truth is known*\r\nThat Alla guiltless was of all her woe,\r\nI trow an hundred times have they kiss\u2019d,\r\nAnd such a bliss is there betwixt them two,\r\nThat, save the joy that lasteth evermo\u2019,\r\nThere is none like, that any creature\r\nHath seen, or shall see, while the world may dure.\r\n\r\nThen prayed she her husband meekely\r\nIn the relief of her long piteous pine,*                         *sorrow\r\nThat he would pray her father specially,\r\nThat of his majesty he would incline\r\nTo vouchesafe some day with him to dine:\r\nShe pray\u2019d him eke, that he should by no way\r\nUnto her father no word of her say.\r\n\r\nSome men would say,<17> how that the child Maurice\r\nDid this message unto the emperor:\r\nBut, as I guess, Alla was not so nice,*                         *foolish\r\nTo him that is so sovereign of honor\r\nAs he that is of Christian folk the flow\u2019r,\r\nSend any child, but better \u2019tis to deem\r\nHe went himself; and so it may well seem.\r\n\r\nThis emperor hath granted gentilly\r\nTo come to dinner, as he him besought:\r\nAnd well rede* I, he looked busily                          *guess, know\r\nUpon this child, and on his daughter thought.\r\nAlla went to his inn, and as him ought\r\nArrayed* for this feast in every wise,                         *prepared\r\n*As farforth as his cunning* may suffice.          *as far as his skill*\r\n\r\nThe morrow came, and Alla gan him dress,*                    *make ready\r\nAnd eke his wife, the emperor to meet:\r\nAnd forth they rode in joy and in gladness,\r\nAnd when she saw her father in the street,\r\nShe lighted down and fell before his feet.\r\n\u201cFather,\u201d quoth she, \u201cyour younge child Constance\r\nIs now full clean out of your remembrance.\r\n\r\n\u201cI am your daughter, your Constance,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cThat whilom ye have sent into Syrie;\r\nIt am I, father, that in the salt sea\r\nWas put alone, and damned* for to die.                        *condemned\r\nNow, goode father, I you mercy cry,\r\nSend me no more into none heatheness,\r\nBut thank my lord here of his kindeness.\u201d\r\n\r\nWho can the piteous joye tellen all,\r\nBetwixt them three, since they be thus y-met?\r\nBut of my tale make an end I shall,\r\nThe day goes fast, I will no longer let.*                        *hinder\r\nThese gladde folk to dinner be y-set;\r\nIn joy and bliss at meat I let them dwell,\r\nA thousand fold well more than I can tell.\r\n\r\nThis child Maurice was since then emperor\r\nMade by the Pope, and lived Christianly,\r\nTo Christe\u2019s Churche did he great honor:\r\nBut I let all his story passe by,\r\nOf Constance is my tale especially,\r\nIn the olde Roman gestes* men may find                    *histories<19>\r\nMaurice\u2019s life, I bear it not in mind.\r\n\r\nThis King Alla, when he his time sey,*                              *saw\r\nWith his Constance, his holy wife so sweet,\r\nTo England are they come the righte way,\r\nWhere they did live in joy and in quiet.\r\nBut little while it lasted, I you hete,*                        *promise\r\nJoy of this world for time will not abide,\r\nFrom day to night it changeth as the tide.\r\n\r\nWho liv\u2019d ever in such delight one day,\r\nThat him not moved either conscience,\r\nOr ire, or talent, or *some kind affray,*     *some kind of disturbance*\r\nEnvy, or pride, or passion, or offence?\r\nI say but for this ende this sentence,*              *judgment, opinion*\r\nThat little while in joy or in pleasance\r\nLasted the bliss of Alla with Constance.\r\n\r\nFor death, that takes of high and low his rent,\r\nWhen passed was a year, even as I guess,\r\nOut of this world this King Alla he hent,*                     *snatched\r\nFor whom Constance had full great heaviness.\r\nNow let us pray that God his soule bless:\r\nAnd Dame Constance, finally to say,\r\nToward the town of Rome went her way.\r\n\r\nTo Rome is come this holy creature,\r\nAnd findeth there her friendes whole and sound:\r\nNow is she scaped all her aventure:\r\nAnd when that she her father hath y-found,\r\nDown on her knees falleth she to ground,\r\nWeeping for tenderness in hearte blithe\r\nShe herieth* God an hundred thousand sithe.**           *praises **times\r\n\r\nIn virtue and in holy almes-deed\r\nThey liven all, and ne\u2019er asunder wend;\r\nTill death departeth them, this life they lead:\r\nAnd fare now well, my tale is at an end\r\nNow Jesus Christ, that of his might may send\r\nJoy after woe, govern us in his grace\r\nAnd keep us alle that be in this place.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Man of Law\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. This tale is believed by Tyrwhitt to have been taken, with no\r\nmaterial change, from the \u201cConfessio Amantis\u201d of John Gower,\r\nwho was contemporary with Chaucer, though somewhat his\r\nsenior.  In the prologue, the references to the stories of Canace,\r\nand of Apollonius Tyrius, seem to be an attack on Gower, who\r\nhad given these tales in his book; whence Tyrwhitt concludes\r\nthat the friendship between the two poets suffered some\r\ninterruption in the latter part of their lives.  Gower was not the\r\ninventor of the story, which he found in old French romances,\r\nand it is not improbable that Chaucer may have gone to the\r\nsame source as Gower, though the latter undoubtedly led the\r\nway.\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: later commentators have identified the\r\nintroduction describing the sorrows of poverty, along with the\r\nother moralising interludes in the tale, as translated from \u201cDe\r\nContemptu Mundi\u201d (\u201cOn the contempt of the world\u201d) by Pope\r\nInnocent.)\r\n\r\n2. Transcriber\u2019 note: This refers to the game of hazard, a dice\r\ngame like craps, in which two  (\u201cambes ace\u201d) won,  and eleven\r\n(\u201csix-cinque\u201d) lost.\r\n\r\n3. Purpose: discourse, tale: French \u201cpropos\u201d.\r\n\r\n4. \u201cPeace\u201d rhymed with \u201clese\u201d and \u201cchese\u201d, the old forms of\r\n\u201close\u201d and \u201cchoose\u201d.\r\n\r\n5. According to Middle Age writers there were two motions of\r\nthe first heaven; one everything always from east to west above\r\nthe stars; the other moving the stars against the first motion,\r\nfrom west to east, on two other poles.\r\n\r\n6. Atyzar: the meaning of this word is not known; but \u201coccifer\u201d,\r\nmurderer, has been suggested instead by Urry, on the authority\r\nof a marginal reading on a manuscript.\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: later commentators explain it as derived\r\nfrom Arabic \u201cal-ta\u2019thir\u201d, influence - used here in an astrological\r\nsense)\r\n\r\n7. \u201cThou knittest thee where thou art not receiv\u2019d,\r\nWhere thou wert well, from thennes art thou weiv\u2019d\u201d\r\ni.e.\r\n\u201cThou joinest thyself where thou art rejected, and art declined\r\nor departed from the place where thou wert well.\u201d  The moon\r\nportends the fortunes of Constance.\r\n\r\n8. Fand: endeavour; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cfandian,\u201d to try\r\n\r\n9. Feng: take; Anglo-Saxon \u201cfengian\u201d, German, \u201cfangen\u201d.\r\n\r\n10. Him and her on which thy limbes faithfully extend: those\r\nwho in faith wear the crucifix.\r\n\r\n11. The four spirits of tempest: the four angels who held the\r\nfour winds of the earth and to whom it was given to hurt the\r\nearth and the sea (Rev. vii. 1, 2).\r\n\r\n12. Thennes would it not in all a tide: thence would it not move\r\nfor long, at all.\r\n\r\n13. A manner Latin corrupt: a kind of bastard Latin.\r\n\r\n14. Knave child: male child; German \u201cKnabe\u201d.\r\n\r\n15. Heried: honoured, praised; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cherian.\u201d\r\nCompare German, \u201cherrlich,\u201d glorious, honourable.\r\n\r\n16. Beknow:  confess; German, \u201cbekennen.\u201d\r\n\r\n17. The poet here refers to Gower\u2019s version of the story.\r\n\r\n18. Stound: short time; German, \u201cstunde\u201d, hour.\r\n\r\n19. Gestes: histories, exploits; Latin, \u201cres gestae\u201d.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE WIFE OF BATH\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE. <1>\r\n\r\nExperience, though none authority*                  *authoritative texts\r\nWere in this world, is right enough for me\r\nTo speak of woe that is in marriage:\r\nFor, lordings, since I twelve year was of age,\r\n(Thanked be God that *is etern on live),*              *lives eternally*\r\nHusbands at the church door have I had five,<2>\r\nFor I so often have y-wedded be,\r\nAnd all were worthy men in their degree.\r\nBut me was told, not longe time gone is\r\nThat sithen* Christe went never but ones                          *since\r\nTo wedding, in the Cane* of Galilee,                               *Cana\r\nThat by that ilk* example taught he me,                            *same\r\nThat I not wedded shoulde be but once.\r\nLo, hearken eke a sharp word for the nonce,*                   *occasion\r\nBeside a welle Jesus, God and man,\r\nSpake in reproof of the Samaritan:\r\n\u201cThou hast y-had five husbandes,\u201d said he;\r\n\u201cAnd thilke* man, that now hath wedded thee,                       *that\r\nIs not thine husband:\u201d <3> thus said he certain;\r\nWhat that he meant thereby, I cannot sayn.\r\nBut that I aske, why the fifthe man\r\nWas not husband to the Samaritan?\r\nHow many might she have in marriage?\r\nYet heard I never tellen *in mine age*                      *in my life*\r\nUpon this number definitioun.\r\nMen may divine, and glosen* up and down;                        *comment\r\nBut well I wot, express without a lie,\r\nGod bade us for to wax and multiply;\r\nThat gentle text can I well understand.\r\nEke well I wot, he said, that mine husband\r\nShould leave father and mother, and take to me;\r\nBut of no number mention made he,\r\nOf bigamy or of octogamy;\r\nWhy then should men speak of it villainy?*     *as if it were a disgrace\r\n\r\nLo here, the wise king Dan* Solomon,                           *Lord <4>\r\nI trow that he had wives more than one;\r\nAs would to God it lawful were to me\r\nTo be refreshed half so oft as he!\r\nWhat gift* of God had he for all his wives?     *special favour, licence\r\nNo man hath such, that in this world alive is.\r\nGod wot, this noble king, *as to my wit,*              *as I understand*\r\nThe first night had many a merry fit\r\nWith each of them, so *well was him on live.*         *so well he lived*\r\nBlessed be God that I have wedded five!\r\nWelcome the sixth whenever that he shall.\r\nFor since I will not keep me chaste in all,\r\nWhen mine husband is from the world y-gone,\r\nSome Christian man shall wedde me anon.\r\nFor then th\u2019 apostle saith that I am free\r\nTo wed, *a\u2019 God\u2019s half,* where it liketh me.             *on God\u2019s part*\r\nHe saith, that to be wedded is no sin;\r\nBetter is to be wedded than to brin.*                              *burn\r\nWhat recketh* me though folk say villainy**                 *care **evil\r\nOf shrewed* Lamech, and his bigamy?                     *impious, wicked\r\nI wot well Abraham was a holy man,\r\nAnd Jacob eke, as far as ev\u2019r I can.*                              *know\r\nAnd each of them had wives more than two;\r\nAnd many another holy man also.\r\nWhere can ye see, *in any manner age,*                   *in any period*\r\nThat highe God defended* marriage                           *forbade <5>\r\nBy word express? I pray you tell it me;\r\nOr where commanded he virginity?\r\nI wot as well as you, it is no dread,*                            *doubt\r\nTh\u2019 apostle, when he spake of maidenhead,\r\nHe said, that precept thereof had he none:\r\nMen may counsel a woman to be one,*                              *a maid\r\nBut counseling is no commandement;\r\nHe put it in our owen judgement.\r\nFor, hadde God commanded maidenhead,\r\nThen had he damned* wedding out of dread;**           *condemned **doubt\r\nAnd certes, if there were no seed y-sow,*                          *sown\r\nVirginity then whereof should it grow?\r\nPaul durste not commanden, at the least,\r\nA thing of which his Master gave no hest.*                      *command\r\nThe dart* is set up for virginity;                             *goal <6>\r\nCatch whoso may, who runneth best let see.\r\nBut this word is not ta\u2019en of every wight,\r\n*But there as* God will give it of his might.             *except where*\r\nI wot well that th\u2019 apostle was a maid,\r\nBut natheless, although he wrote and said,\r\nHe would that every wight were such as he,\r\nAll is but counsel to virginity.\r\nAnd, since to be a wife he gave me leave\r\nOf indulgence, so is it no repreve*                   *scandal, reproach\r\nTo wedde me, if that my make* should die,                 *mate, husband\r\nWithout exception* of bigamy;                          *charge, reproach\r\n*All were it* good no woman for to touch            *though it might be*\r\n(He meant as in his bed or in his couch),\r\nFor peril is both fire and tow t\u2019assemble\r\nYe know what this example may resemble.\r\nThis is all and some, he held virginity\r\nMore profit than wedding in frailty:\r\n(*Frailty clepe I, but if* that he and she           *frailty I call it,\r\nWould lead their lives all in chastity),                         unless*\r\nI grant it well, I have of none envy\r\nWho maidenhead prefer to bigamy;\r\nIt liketh them t\u2019 be clean in body and ghost;*                     *soul\r\nOf mine estate* I will not make a boast.                      *condition\r\n\r\nFor, well ye know, a lord in his household\r\nHath not every vessel all of gold; <7>\r\nSome are of tree, and do their lord service.\r\nGod calleth folk to him in sundry wise,\r\nAnd each one hath of God a proper gift,\r\nSome this, some that, as liketh him to shift.*      *appoint, distribute\r\nVirginity is great perfection,\r\nAnd continence eke with devotion:\r\nBut Christ, that of perfection is the well,*                   *fountain\r\nBade not every wight he should go sell\r\nAll that he had, and give it to the poor,\r\nAnd in such wise follow him and his lore:*                     *doctrine\r\nHe spake to them that would live perfectly, \u2014\r\nAnd, lordings, by your leave, that am not I;\r\nI will bestow the flower of mine age\r\nIn th\u2019 acts and in the fruits of marriage.\r\nTell me also, to what conclusion*                          *end, purpose\r\nWere members made of generation,\r\nAnd of so perfect wise a wight* y-wrought?                        *being\r\nTrust me right well, they were not made for nought.\r\nGlose whoso will, and say both up and down,\r\nThat they were made for the purgatioun\r\nOf urine, and of other thinges smale,\r\nAnd eke to know a female from a male:\r\nAnd for none other cause? say ye no?\r\nExperience wot well it is not so.\r\nSo that the clerkes* be not with me wroth,                     *scholars\r\nI say this, that they were made for both,\r\nThat is to say, *for office, and for ease*                 *for duty and\r\nOf engendrure, there we God not displease.                 for pleasure*\r\nWhy should men elles in their bookes set,\r\nThat man shall yield unto his wife her debt?\r\nNow wherewith should he make his payement,\r\nIf he us\u2019d not his silly instrument?\r\nThen were they made upon a creature\r\nTo purge urine, and eke for engendrure.\r\nBut I say not that every wight is hold,*                        *obliged\r\nThat hath such harness* as I to you told,                     *equipment\r\nTo go and use them in engendrure;\r\nThen should men take of chastity no cure.*                         *care\r\nChrist was a maid, and shapen* as a man,                      *fashioned\r\nAnd many a saint, since that this world began,\r\nYet ever liv\u2019d in perfect chastity.\r\nI will not vie* with no virginity.                              *contend\r\nLet them with bread of pured* wheat be fed,                    *purified\r\nAnd let us wives eat our barley bread.\r\nAnd yet with barley bread, Mark tell us can,<8>\r\nOur Lord Jesus refreshed many a man.\r\nIn such estate as God hath *cleped us,*                    *called us to\r\nI\u2019ll persevere, I am not precious,*                         *over-dainty\r\nIn wifehood I will use mine instrument\r\nAs freely as my Maker hath it sent.\r\nIf I be dangerous* God give me sorrow;            *sparing of my favours\r\nMine husband shall it have, both eve and morrow,\r\nWhen that him list come forth and pay his debt.\r\nA husband will I have, I *will no let,*         *will bear no hindrance*\r\nWhich shall be both my debtor and my thrall,*                     *slave\r\nAnd have his tribulation withal\r\nUpon his flesh, while that I am his wife.\r\nI have the power during all my life\r\nUpon his proper body, and not he;\r\nRight thus th\u2019 apostle told it unto me,\r\nAnd bade our husbands for to love us well;\r\nAll this sentence me liketh every deal.*                           *whit\r\n\r\nUp start the Pardoner, and that anon;\r\n\u201cNow, Dame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cby God and by Saint John,\r\nYe are a noble preacher in this case.\r\nI was about to wed a wife, alas!\r\nWhat? should I bie* it on my flesh so dear?                  *suffer for\r\nYet had I lever* wed no wife this year.\u201d                         *rather\r\n\u201cAbide,\u201d* quoth she; \u201cmy tale is not begun             *wait in patience\r\nNay, thou shalt drinken of another tun\r\nEre that I go, shall savour worse than ale.\r\nAnd when that I have told thee forth my tale\r\nOf tribulation in marriage,\r\nOf which I am expert in all mine age,\r\n(This is to say, myself hath been the whip),\r\nThen mayest thou choose whether thou wilt sip\r\nOf *thilke tunne,* that I now shall broach.                   *that tun*\r\nBeware of it, ere thou too nigh approach,\r\nFor I shall tell examples more than ten:\r\nWhoso will not beware by other men,\r\nBy him shall other men corrected be:\r\nThese same wordes writeth Ptolemy;\r\nRead in his Almagest, and take it there.\u201d\r\n\u201cDame, I would pray you, if your will it were,\u201d\r\nSaide this Pardoner, \u201cas ye began,\r\nTell forth your tale, and spare for no man,\r\nAnd teach us younge men of your practique.\u201d\r\n\u201cGladly,\u201d quoth she, \u201csince that it may you like.\r\nBut that I pray to all this company,\r\nIf that I speak after my fantasy,\r\nTo take nought agrief* what I may say;                         *to heart\r\nFor mine intent is only for to play.\r\n\r\nNow, Sirs, then will I tell you forth my tale.\r\nAs ever may I drinke wine or ale\r\nI shall say sooth; the husbands that I had\r\nThree of them were good, and two were bad\r\nThe three were goode men, and rich, and old\r\n*Unnethes mighte they the statute hold*      *they could with difficulty\r\nIn which that they were bounden unto me.                   obey the law*\r\nYet wot well what I mean of this, pardie.*                       *by God\r\nAs God me help, I laugh when that I think\r\nHow piteously at night I made them swink,*                       *labour\r\nBut, *by my fay, I told of it no store:*         *by my faith, I held it\r\nThey had me giv\u2019n their land and their treasor,           of no account*\r\nMe needed not do longer diligence\r\nTo win their love, or do them reverence.\r\nThey loved me so well, by God above,\r\nThat I *tolde no dainty* of their love.              *cared nothing for*\r\nA wise woman will busy her ever-in-one*                      *constantly\r\nTo get their love, where that she hath none.\r\nBut, since I had them wholly in my hand,\r\nAnd that they had me given all their land,\r\nWhy should I take keep* them for to please,                        *care\r\nBut* it were for my profit, or mine ease?                        *unless\r\nI set them so a-worke, by my fay,\r\nThat many a night they sange, well-away!\r\nThe bacon was not fetched for them, I trow,\r\nThat some men have in Essex at Dunmow.<9>\r\nI govern\u2019d them so well after my law,\r\nThat each of them full blissful was and fawe*                      *fain\r\nTo bringe me gay thinges from the fair.\r\nThey were full glad when that I spake them fair,\r\nFor, God it wot, I *chid them spiteously.*        *rebuked them angrily*\r\nNow hearken how I bare me properly.\r\n\r\nYe wise wives, that can understand,\r\nThus should ye speak, and *bear them wrong on hand,*          *make them\r\nFor half so boldely can there no man                    believe falsely*\r\nSwearen and lien as a woman can.\r\n(I say not this by wives that be wise,\r\n*But if* it be when they them misadvise.)*     *unless* *act unadvisedly\r\nA wise wife, if that she can* her good,                           *knows\r\nShall *beare them on hand* the cow is wood,          *make them believe*\r\nAnd take witness of her owen maid\r\nOf their assent: but hearken how I said.\r\n\u201cSir olde  kaynard,<10> is this thine array?\r\nWhy is my neigheboure\u2019s wife so gay?\r\nShe is honour\u2019d *over all where* she go\u2019th,                 *wheresoever\r\nI sit at home, I have no *thrifty cloth.*                 *good clothes*\r\nWhat dost thou at my neigheboure\u2019s house?\r\nIs she so fair? art thou so amorous?\r\nWhat rown\u2019st* thou with our maid? benedicite,                *whisperest\r\nSir olde lechour, let thy japes* be.                             *tricks\r\nAnd if I have a gossip, or a friend\r\n(Withoute guilt), thou chidest as a fiend,\r\nIf that I walk or play unto his house.\r\nThou comest home as drunken as a mouse,\r\nAnd preachest on thy bench, with evil prefe:*                     *proof\r\nThou say\u2019st to me, it is a great mischief\r\nTo wed a poore woman, for costage:*                             *expense\r\nAnd if that she be rich, of high parage;*                   * birth <11>\r\nThen say\u2019st thou, that it is a tormentry\r\nTo suffer her pride and melancholy.\r\nAnd if that she be fair, thou very knave,\r\nThou say\u2019st that every holour* will her have;               *whoremonger\r\nShe may no while in chastity abide,\r\nThat is assailed upon every side.\r\nThou say\u2019st some folk desire us for richess,\r\nSome for our shape, and some for our fairness,\r\nAnd some, for she can either sing or dance,\r\nAnd some for gentiless and dalliance,\r\nSome for her handes and her armes smale:\r\nThus goes all to the devil, by thy tale;\r\nThou say\u2019st, men may not keep a castle wall\r\nThat may be so assailed *over all.*                         *everywhere*\r\nAnd if that she be foul, thou say\u2019st that she\r\nCoveteth every man that she may see;\r\nFor as a spaniel she will on him leap,\r\nTill she may finde some man her to cheap;*                          *buy\r\nAnd none so grey goose goes there in the lake,\r\n(So say\u2019st thou) that will be without a make.*                     *mate\r\nAnd say\u2019st, it is a hard thing for to weld                *wield, govern\r\nA thing that no man will, *his thankes, held.*  *hold with his goodwill*\r\nThus say\u2019st thou, lorel,* when thou go\u2019st to bed,      *good-for-nothing\r\nAnd that no wise man needeth for to wed,\r\nNor no man that intendeth unto heaven.\r\nWith wilde thunder dint* and fiery leven**          * stroke **lightning\r\nMote* thy wicked necke be to-broke.                                 *may\r\nThou say\u2019st, that dropping houses, and eke smoke,\r\nAnd chiding wives, make men to flee\r\nOut of their owne house; ah! ben\u2019dicite,\r\nWhat aileth such an old man for to chide?\r\nThou say\u2019st, we wives will our vices hide,\r\nTill we be fast,* and then we will them shew.                    *wedded\r\nWell may that be a proverb of a shrew.*             *ill-tempered wretch\r\nThou say\u2019st, that oxen, asses, horses, hounds,\r\nThey be *assayed at diverse stounds,*                 *tested at various\r\nBasons and lavers, ere that men them buy,                        seasons\r\nSpoones, stooles, and all such husbandry,\r\nAnd so be pots, and clothes, and array,*                        *raiment\r\nBut folk of wives make none assay,\r\nTill they be wedded, \u2014 olde dotard shrew! \u2014\r\nAnd then, say\u2019st thou, we will our vices shew.\r\nThou say\u2019st also, that it displeaseth me,\r\nBut if * that thou wilt praise my beauty,                        *unless\r\nAnd but* thou pore alway upon my face,                           *unless\r\nAnd call me faire dame in every place;\r\nAnd but* thou make a feast on thilke** day                *unless **that\r\nThat I was born, and make me fresh and gay;\r\nAnd but thou do to my norice* honour,                        *nurse <12>\r\nAnd to my chamberere* within my bow\u2019r,                     *chamber-maid\r\nAnd to my father\u2019s folk, and mine allies;*                    *relations\r\nThus sayest thou, old barrel full of lies.\r\nAnd yet also of our prentice Jenkin,\r\nFor his crisp hair, shining as gold so fine,\r\nAnd for he squireth me both up and down,\r\nYet hast thou caught a false suspicioun:\r\nI will him not, though thou wert dead to-morrow.\r\nBut tell me this, why hidest thou, *with sorrow,*      *sorrow on thee!*\r\nThe keyes of thy chest away from me?\r\nIt is my good* as well as thine, pardie.                       *property\r\nWhat, think\u2019st to make an idiot of our dame?\r\nNow, by that lord that called is Saint Jame,\r\nThou shalt not both, although that thou wert wood,*             *furious\r\nBe master of my body, and my good,*                            *property\r\nThe one thou shalt forego, maugre* thine eyen.              *in spite of\r\nWhat helpeth it of me t\u2019inquire and spyen?\r\nI trow thou wouldest lock me in thy chest.\r\nThou shouldest say, \u2018Fair wife, go where thee lest;\r\nTake your disport; I will believe no tales;\r\nI know you for a true wife, Dame Ales.\u2019*                          *Alice\r\nWe love no man, that taketh keep* or charge                        *care\r\nWhere that we go; we will be at our large.\r\nOf alle men most blessed may he be,\r\nThe wise astrologer Dan* Ptolemy,                                  *Lord\r\nThat saith this proverb in his Almagest:<13>\r\n\u2018Of alle men his wisdom is highest,\r\nThat recketh not who hath the world in hand.\r\nBy this proverb thou shalt well understand,\r\nHave thou enough, what thar* thee reck or care           *needs, behoves\r\nHow merrily that other folkes fare?\r\nFor certes, olde dotard, by your leave,\r\nYe shall have [pleasure] <14> right enough at eve.\r\nHe is too great a niggard that will werne*                       *forbid\r\nA man to light a candle at his lantern;\r\nHe shall have never the less light, pardie.\r\nHave thou enough, thee thar* not plaine** thee          *need **complain\r\nThou say\u2019st also, if that we make us gay\r\nWith clothing and with precious array,\r\nThat it is peril of our chastity.\r\nAnd yet, \u2014 with sorrow! \u2014 thou enforcest thee,\r\nAnd say\u2019st these words in the apostle\u2019s name:\r\n\u2018In habit made with chastity and shame*                         *modesty\r\nYe women shall apparel you,\u2019 quoth he,<15>\r\n\u2018And not in tressed hair and gay perrie,*                        *jewels\r\nAs pearles, nor with gold, nor clothes rich.\u2019\r\nAfter thy text nor after thy rubrich\r\nI will not work as muchel as a gnat.\r\nThou say\u2019st also, I walk out like a cat;\r\nFor whoso woulde singe the catte\u2019s skin\r\nThen will the catte well dwell in her inn;*                       *house\r\nAnd if the catte\u2019s skin be sleek and gay,\r\nShe will not dwell in house half a day,\r\nBut forth she will, ere any day be daw\u2019d,\r\nTo shew her skin, and go a caterwaw\u2019d.*                    *caterwauling\r\nThis is to say, if I be gay, sir shrew,\r\nI will run out, my borel* for to shew.            *apparel, fine clothes\r\nSir olde fool, what helpeth thee to spyen?\r\nThough thou pray Argus with his hundred eyen\r\nTo be my wardecorps,* as he can best                         *body-guard\r\nIn faith he shall not keep me, *but me lest:*          *unless I please*\r\nYet could I *make his beard,* so may I the.         *make a jest of him*\r\n\r\n\u201cThou sayest eke, that there be thinges three,                   *thrive\r\nWhich thinges greatly trouble all this earth,\r\nAnd that no wighte may endure the ferth:*                        *fourth\r\nO lefe* sir shrew, may Jesus short** thy life.       *pleasant **shorten\r\nYet preachest thou, and say\u2019st, a hateful wife\r\nY-reckon\u2019d is for one of these mischances.\r\nBe there *none other manner resemblances*              *no other kind of\r\nThat ye may liken your parables unto,                        comparison*\r\nBut if a silly wife be one of tho?*                               *those\r\nThou likenest a woman\u2019s love to hell;\r\nTo barren land where water may not dwell.\r\nThou likenest it also to wild fire;\r\nThe more it burns, the more it hath desire\r\nTo consume every thing that burnt will be.\r\nThou sayest, right as wormes shend* a tree,                     *destroy\r\nRight so a wife destroyeth her husbond;\r\nThis know they well that be to wives bond.\u201d\r\n\r\nLordings, right thus, as ye have understand,\r\n*Bare I stiffly mine old husbands on hand,*          *made them believe*\r\nThat thus they saiden in their drunkenness;\r\nAnd all was false, but that I took witness\r\nOn Jenkin, and upon my niece also.\r\nO Lord! the pain I did them, and the woe,\r\n\u2018Full guilteless, by Godde\u2019s sweete pine;*                         *pain\r\nFor as a horse I coulde bite and whine;\r\nI coulde plain,* an\u2019** I was in the guilt,       *complain **even though\r\nOr elles oftentime I had been spilt*                             *ruined\r\nWhoso first cometh to the nilll, first grint;*                *is ground\r\nI plained first, so was our war y-stint.*                       *stopped\r\nThey were full glad to excuse them full blive*                  *quickly\r\nOf things that they never *aguilt their live.*     *were guilty in their\r\n                                                                  lives*\r\nOf wenches would I *beare them on hand,*           *falsely accuse them*\r\nWhen that for sickness scarcely might they stand,\r\nYet tickled I his hearte for that he\r\nWeen\u2019d* that I had of him so great cherte:**     *though **affection<16>\r\nI swore that all my walking out by night\r\nWas for to espy wenches that he dight:*                         *adorned\r\nUnder that colour had I many a mirth.\r\nFor all such wit is given us at birth;\r\nDeceit, weeping, and spinning, God doth give\r\nTo women kindly, while that they may live.                    *naturally\r\nAnd thus of one thing I may vaunte me,\r\nAt th\u2019 end I had the better in each degree,\r\nBy sleight, or force, or by some manner thing,\r\nAs by continual murmur or grudging,*                        *complaining\r\nNamely* a-bed, there hadde they mischance,                   *especially\r\nThere would I chide, and do them no pleasance:\r\nI would no longer in the bed abide,\r\nIf that I felt his arm over my side,\r\nTill he had made his ransom unto me,\r\nThen would I suffer him do his nicety.*                      *folly <17>\r\nAnd therefore every man this tale I tell,\r\nWin whoso may, for all is for to sell;\r\nWith empty hand men may no hawkes lure;\r\nFor winning would I all his will endure,\r\nAnd make me a feigned appetite,\r\nAnd yet in bacon* had I never delight:               *i.e. of Dunmow <9>\r\nThat made me that I ever would them chide.\r\nFor, though the Pope had sitten them beside,\r\nI would not spare them at their owen board,\r\nFor, by my troth, I quit* them word for word                     *repaid\r\nAs help me very God omnipotent,\r\nThough I right now should make my testament\r\nI owe them not a word, that is not quit*                         *repaid\r\nI brought it so aboute by my wit,\r\nThat they must give it up, as for the best\r\nOr elles had we never been in rest.\r\nFor, though he looked as a wood* lion,                          *furious\r\nYet should he fail of his conclusion.\r\nThen would I say, \u201cNow, goode lefe* tak keep**              *dear **heed\r\nHow meekly looketh Wilken oure sheep!\r\nCome near, my spouse, and let me ba* thy cheek                *kiss <18>\r\nYe shoulde be all patient and meek,\r\nAnd have a *sweet y-spiced* conscience,                   *tender, nice*\r\nSince ye so preach of Jobe\u2019s patience.\r\nSuffer alway, since ye so well can preach,\r\nAnd but* ye do, certain we shall you teach*                      *unless\r\nThat it is fair to have a wife in peace.\r\nOne of us two must bowe* doubteless:                           *give way\r\nAnd since a man is more reasonable\r\nThan woman is, ye must be suff\u2019rable.\r\nWhat aileth you to grudge* thus and groan?                     *complain\r\nIs it for ye would have my [love] <14> alone?\r\nWhy, take it all: lo, have it every deal,*                         *whit\r\nPeter! <19> shrew* you but ye love it well                        *curse\r\nFor if I woulde sell my *belle chose*,                 *beautiful thing*\r\nI coulde walk as fresh as is a rose,\r\nBut I will keep it for your owen tooth.\r\nYe be to blame, by God, I say you sooth.\u201d\r\nSuch manner wordes hadde we on hand.\r\n\r\nNow will I speaken of my fourth husband.\r\nMy fourthe husband was a revellour;\r\nThis is to say, he had a paramour,\r\nAnd I was young and full of ragerie,*                        *wantonness\r\nStubborn and strong, and jolly as a pie.*                        *magpie\r\nThen could I dance to a harpe smale,\r\nAnd sing, y-wis,* as any nightingale,                         *certainly\r\nWhen I had drunk a draught of sweete wine.\r\nMetellius, the foule churl, the swine,\r\nThat with a staff bereft his wife of life\r\nFor she drank wine, though I had been his wife,\r\nNever should he have daunted me from drink:\r\nAnd, after wine, of Venus most I think.\r\nFor all so sure as cold engenders hail,\r\nA liquorish mouth must have a liquorish tail.\r\nIn woman vinolent* is no defence,**            *full of wine *resistance\r\nThis knowe lechours by experience.\r\nBut, lord Christ, when that it rememb\u2019reth me\r\nUpon my youth, and on my jollity,\r\nIt tickleth me about mine hearte-root;\r\nUnto this day it doth mine hearte boot,*                           *good\r\nThat I have had my world as in my time.\r\nBut age, alas! that all will envenime,*                *poison, embitter\r\nHath me bereft my beauty and my pith:*                           *vigour\r\nLet go; farewell; the devil go therewith.\r\nThe flour is gon, there is no more to tell,\r\nThe bran, as I best may, now must I sell.\r\nBut yet to be right merry will I fand.*                             *try\r\nNow forth to tell you of my fourth husband,\r\nI say, I in my heart had great despite,\r\nThat he of any other had delight;\r\nBut he was quit,* by God and by Saint Joce:<21>     *requited, paid back\r\nI made for him of the same wood a cross;\r\nNot of my body in no foul mannere,\r\nBut certainly I made folk such cheer,\r\nThat in his owen grease I made him fry\r\nFor anger, and for very jealousy.\r\nBy God, in earth I was his purgatory,\r\nFor which I hope his soul may be in glory.\r\nFor, God it wot, he sat full oft and sung,\r\nWhen that his shoe full bitterly him wrung.*                    *pinched\r\nThere was no wight, save God and he, that wist\r\nIn many wise how sore I did him twist.<20>\r\nHe died when I came from Jerusalem,\r\nAnd lies in grave under the *roode beam:*                        *cross*\r\nAlthough his tomb is not so curious\r\nAs was the sepulchre of Darius,\r\nWhich that Apelles wrought so subtlely.\r\nIt is but waste to bury them preciously.\r\nLet him fare well, God give his soule rest,\r\nHe is now in his grave and in his chest.\r\n\r\nNow of my fifthe husband will I tell:\r\nGod let his soul never come into hell.\r\nAnd yet was he to me the moste shrew;*              *cruel, ill-tempered\r\nThat feel I on my ribbes all *by rew,*                         *in a row\r\nAnd ever shall, until mine ending day.\r\nBut in our bed he was so fresh and gay,\r\nAnd therewithal so well he could me glose,*                     *flatter\r\nWhen that he woulde have my belle chose,\r\nThough he had beaten me on every bone,\r\nYet could he win again my love anon.\r\nI trow, I lov\u2019d him better, for that he\r\nWas of his love so dangerous* to me.                 *sparing, difficult\r\nWe women have, if that I shall not lie,\r\nIn this matter a quainte fantasy.\r\nWhatever thing we may not lightly have,\r\nThereafter will we cry all day and crave.\r\nForbid us thing, and that desire we;\r\nPress on us fast, and thenne will we flee.\r\nWith danger* utter we all our chaffare;**      *difficulty **merchandise\r\nGreat press at market maketh deare ware,\r\nAnd too great cheap is held at little price;\r\nThis knoweth every woman that is wise.\r\nMy fifthe husband, God his soule bless,\r\nWhich that I took for love and no richess,\r\nHe some time was *a clerk of Oxenford,*            *a scholar of Oxford*\r\nAnd had left school, and went at home to board\r\nWith my gossip,* dwelling in oure town:                       *godmother\r\nGod have her soul, her name was Alisoun.\r\nShe knew my heart, and all my privity,\r\nBet than our parish priest, so may I the.*                       *thrive\r\nTo her betrayed I my counsel all;\r\nFor had my husband pissed on a wall,\r\nOr done a thing that should have cost his life,\r\nTo her, and to another worthy wife,\r\nAnd to my niece, which that I loved well,\r\nI would have told his counsel every deal.*                          *jot\r\nAnd so I did full often, God it wot,\r\nThat made his face full often red and hot\r\nFor very shame, and blam\u2019d himself, for he\r\nHad told to me so great a privity.*                              *secret\r\nAnd so befell that ones in a Lent\r\n(So oftentimes I to my gossip went,\r\nFor ever yet I loved to be gay,\r\nAnd for to walk in March, April, and May\r\nFrom house to house, to heare sundry tales),\r\nThat Jenkin clerk, and my gossip, Dame Ales,\r\nAnd I myself, into the fieldes went.\r\nMine husband was at London all that Lent;\r\nI had the better leisure for to play,\r\nAnd for to see, and eke for to be sey*                             *seen\r\nOf lusty folk; what wist I where my grace*                       *favour\r\nWas shapen for to be, or in what place?                       *appointed\r\nTherefore made I my visitations\r\nTo vigilies,* and to processions,                     *festival-eves<22>\r\nTo preachings eke, and to these pilgrimages,\r\nTo plays of miracles, and marriages,\r\nAnd weared upon me gay scarlet gites.*                            *gowns\r\nThese wormes, nor these mothes, nor these mites\r\nOn my apparel frett* them never a deal**                     *fed **whit\r\nAnd know\u2019st thou why? for they were used* well.                    *worn\r\nNow will I telle forth what happen\u2019d me:\r\nI say, that in the fieldes walked we,\r\nTill truely we had such dalliance,\r\nThis clerk and I, that of my purveyance*                      *foresight\r\nI spake to him, and told him how that he,\r\nIf I were widow, shoulde wedde me.\r\nFor certainly, I say for no bobance,*                      *boasting<23>\r\nYet was I never without purveyance*                           *foresight\r\nOf marriage, nor of other thinges eke:\r\nI hold a mouse\u2019s wit not worth a leek,\r\nThat hath but one hole for to starte* to,<24>                    *escape\r\nAnd if that faile, then is all y-do.*                              *done\r\n[*I bare him on hand* he had enchanted me          *falsely assured him*\r\n(My dame taughte me that subtilty);\r\nAnd eke I said, I mette* of him all night,                      *dreamed\r\nHe would have slain me, as I lay upright,\r\nAnd all my bed was full of very blood;\r\nBut yet I hop\u2019d that he should do me good;\r\nFor blood betoken\u2019d gold, as me was taught.\r\nAnd all was false, I dream\u2019d of him right naught,\r\nBut as I follow\u2019d aye my dame\u2019s lore,\r\nAs well of that as of other things more.] <25>\r\nBut now, sir, let me see, what shall I sayn?\r\nAha! by God, I have my tale again.\r\nWhen that my fourthe husband was on bier,\r\nI wept algate* and made a sorry cheer,**           *always **countenance\r\nAs wives must, for it is the usage;\r\nAnd with my kerchief covered my visage;\r\nBut, for I was provided with a make,*                              *mate\r\nI wept but little, that I undertake*                            *promise\r\nTo churche was mine husband borne a-morrow\r\nWith neighebours that for him made sorrow,\r\nAnd Jenkin, oure clerk, was one of tho:*                          *those\r\nAs help me God, when that I saw him go\r\nAfter the bier, methought he had a pair\r\nOf legges and of feet so clean and fair,\r\nThat all my heart I gave unto his hold.*                        *keeping\r\nHe was, I trow, a twenty winter old,\r\nAnd I was forty, if I shall say sooth,\r\nBut yet I had always a colte\u2019s tooth.\r\nGat-toothed* I was, and that became me well,              *see note <26>\r\nI had the print of Sainte Venus\u2019 seal.\r\n[As help me God, I was a lusty one,\r\nAnd fair, and rich, and young, and *well begone:*        *in a good way*\r\nFor certes I am all venerian*              *under the influence of Venus\r\nIn feeling, and my heart is martian;*       *under the influence of Mars\r\nVenus me gave my lust and liquorishness,\r\nAnd Mars gave me my sturdy hardiness.] <25>\r\nMine ascendant was Taure,* and Mars therein:                     *Taurus\r\nAlas, alas, that ever love was sin!\r\nI follow\u2019d aye mine inclination\r\nBy virtue of my constellation:\r\nThat made me that I coulde not withdraw\r\nMy chamber of Venus from a good fellaw.\r\n[Yet have I Marte\u2019s mark upon my face,\r\nAnd also in another privy place.\r\nFor God so wisly* be my salvation,                            *certainly\r\nI loved never by discretion,\r\nBut ever follow\u2019d mine own appetite,\r\nAll* were he short, or long, or black, or white,                *whether\r\nI took no keep,* so that he liked me,                              *heed\r\nHow poor he was, neither of what degree.] <25>\r\nWhat should I say? but that at the month\u2019s end\r\nThis jolly clerk Jenkin, that was so hend,*                   *courteous\r\nHad wedded me with great solemnity,\r\nAnd to him gave I all the land and fee\r\nThat ever was me given therebefore:\r\nBut afterward repented me full sore.\r\nHe woulde suffer nothing of my list.*                          *pleasure\r\nBy God, he smote me ones with his fist,\r\nFor that I rent out of his book a leaf,\r\nThat of the stroke mine eare wax\u2019d all deaf.\r\nStubborn I was, as is a lioness,\r\nAnd of my tongue a very jangleress,*                             *prater\r\nAnd walk I would, as I had done beforn,\r\nFrom house to house, although he had it sworn:*            *had sworn to\r\nFor which he oftentimes woulde preach                         prevent it\r\nAnd me of olde Roman gestes* teach                              *stories\r\nHow that Sulpitius Gallus left his wife\r\nAnd her forsook for term of all his\r\nFor nought but open-headed* he her say**              *bare-headed **saw\r\nLooking out at his door upon a day.\r\nAnother Roman <27> told he me by name,\r\nThat, for his wife was at a summer game\r\nWithout his knowing, he forsook her eke.\r\nAnd then would he upon his Bible seek\r\nThat ilke* proverb of Ecclesiast,                                  *same\r\nWhere he commandeth, and forbiddeth fast,\r\nMan shall not suffer his wife go roll about.\r\nThen would he say right thus withoute doubt:\r\n\u201cWhoso that buildeth his house all of sallows,*                 *willows\r\nAnd pricketh his blind horse over the fallows,\r\nAnd suff\u2019reth his wife to *go seeke hallows,*         *make pilgrimages*\r\nIs worthy to be hanged on the gallows.\u201d\r\nBut all for nought; I *sette not a haw*              *cared nothing for*\r\nOf his proverbs, nor of his olde saw;\r\nNor would I not of him corrected be.\r\nI hate them that my vices telle me,\r\nAnd so do more of us (God wot) than I.\r\nThis made him wood* with me all utterly;                        *furious\r\nI woulde not forbear* him in no case.                            *endure\r\nNow will I say you sooth, by Saint Thomas,\r\nWhy that I rent out of his book a leaf,\r\nFor which he smote me, so that I was deaf.\r\nHe had a book, that gladly night and day\r\nFor his disport he would it read alway;\r\nHe call\u2019d it Valerie,<28> and Theophrast,\r\nAnd with that book he laugh\u2019d alway full fast.\r\nAnd eke there was a clerk sometime at Rome,\r\nA cardinal, that highte Saint Jerome,\r\nThat made a book against Jovinian,\r\nWhich book was there; and eke Tertullian,\r\nChrysippus, Trotula, and Heloise,\r\nThat was an abbess not far from Paris;\r\nAnd eke the Parables* of Solomon,                              *Proverbs\r\nOvide\u2019s Art, <29> and bourdes* many one;                          *jests\r\nAnd alle these were bound in one volume.\r\nAnd every night and day was his custume\r\n(When he had leisure and vacation\r\nFrom other worldly occupation)\r\nTo readen in this book of wicked wives.\r\nHe knew of them more legends and more lives\r\nThan be of goodde wives in the Bible.\r\nFor, trust me well, it is an impossible\r\nThat any clerk will speake good of wives,\r\n(*But if* it be of holy saintes\u2019 lives)                          *unless\r\nNor of none other woman never the mo\u2019.\r\nWho painted the lion, tell it me, who?\r\nBy God, if women haddde written stories,\r\nAs clerkes have within their oratories,\r\nThey would have writ of men more wickedness\r\nThan all the mark of Adam <30> may redress\r\nThe children of Mercury and of Venus,<31>\r\nBe in their working full contrarious.\r\nMercury loveth wisdom and science,\r\nAnd Venus loveth riot and dispence.*                       *extravagance\r\nAnd for their diverse disposition,\r\nEach falls in other\u2019s exaltation.\r\nAs thus, God wot, Mercury is desolate\r\nIn Pisces, where Venus is exaltate,\r\nAnd Venus falls where Mercury is raised. <32>\r\nTherefore no woman by no clerk is praised.\r\nThe clerk, when he is old, and may not do\r\nOf Venus\u2019 works not worth his olde shoe,\r\nThen sits he down, and writes in his dotage,\r\nThat women cannot keep their marriage.\r\nBut now to purpose, why I tolde thee\r\nThat I was beaten for a book, pardie.\r\n\r\nUpon a night Jenkin, that was our sire,*                        *goodman\r\nRead on his book, as he sat by the fire,\r\nOf Eva first, that for her wickedness\r\nWas all mankind brought into wretchedness,\r\nFor which that Jesus Christ himself was slain,\r\nThat bought us with his hearte-blood again.\r\nLo here express of women may ye find\r\nThat woman was the loss of all mankind.\r\nThen read he me how Samson lost his hairs\r\nSleeping, his leman cut them with her shears,\r\nThrough whiche treason lost he both his eyen.\r\nThen read he me, if that I shall not lien,\r\nOf Hercules, and of his Dejanire,\r\nThat caused him to set himself on fire.\r\nNothing forgot he of the care and woe\r\nThat Socrates had with his wives two;\r\nHow Xantippe cast piss upon his head.\r\nThis silly man sat still, as he were dead,\r\nHe wip\u2019d his head, and no more durst he sayn,\r\nBut, \u201cEre the thunder stint* there cometh rain.\u201d                 *ceases\r\nOf Phasiphae, that was queen of Crete,\r\nFor shrewedness* he thought the tale sweet.                  *wickedness\r\nFy, speak no more, it is a grisly thing,\r\nOf her horrible lust and her liking.\r\nOf Clytemnestra, for her lechery\r\nThat falsely made her husband for to die,\r\nHe read it with full good devotion.\r\nHe told me eke, for what occasion\r\nAmphiorax at Thebes lost his life:\r\nMy husband had a legend of his wife\r\nEryphile, that for an ouche* of gold                      *clasp, collar\r\nHad privily unto the Greekes told,\r\nWhere that her husband hid him in a place,\r\nFor which he had at Thebes sorry grace.\r\nOf Luna told he me, and of Lucie;\r\nThey bothe made their husbands for to die,\r\nThat one for love, that other was for hate.\r\nLuna her husband on an ev\u2019ning late\r\nEmpoison\u2019d had, for that she was his foe:\r\nLucia liquorish lov\u2019d her husband so,\r\nThat, for he should always upon her think,\r\nShe gave him such a manner* love-drink,                         *sort of\r\nThat he was dead before it were the morrow:\r\nAnd thus algates* husbands hadde sorrow.                         *always\r\nThen told he me how one Latumeus\r\nComplained to his fellow Arius\r\nThat in his garden growed such a tree,\r\nOn which he said how that his wives three\r\nHanged themselves for heart dispiteous.\r\n\u201cO leve* brother,\u201d quoth this Arius,                               *dear\r\n\u201cGive me a plant of thilke* blessed tree,                          *that\r\nAnd in my garden planted shall it be.\u201d\r\nOf later date of wives hath he read,\r\nThat some have slain their husbands in their bed,\r\nAnd let their *lechour dight them* all the night,      *lover ride them*\r\nWhile that the corpse lay on the floor upright:\r\nAnd some have driven nails into their brain,\r\nWhile that they slept, and thus they have them slain:\r\nSome have them given poison in their drink:\r\nHe spake more harm than hearte may bethink.\r\nAnd therewithal he knew of more proverbs,\r\nThan in this world there groweth grass or herbs.\r\n\u201cBetter (quoth he) thine habitation\r\nBe with a lion, or a foul dragon,\r\nThan with a woman using for to chide.\r\nBetter (quoth he) high in the roof abide,\r\nThan with an angry woman in the house,\r\nThey be so wicked and contrarious:\r\nThey hate that their husbands loven aye.\u201d\r\nHe said, \u201cA woman cast her shame away\r\nWhen she cast off her smock;\u201d and farthermo\u2019,\r\n\u201cA fair woman, but* she be chaste also,                          *except\r\nIs like a gold ring in a sowe\u2019s nose.\r\nWho coulde ween,* or who coulde suppose                           *think\r\nThe woe that in mine heart was, and the pine?*                     *pain\r\nAnd when I saw that he would never fine*                         *finish\r\nTo readen on this cursed book all night,\r\nAll suddenly three leaves have I plight*                        *plucked\r\nOut of his book, right as he read, and eke\r\nI with my fist so took him on the cheek,\r\nThat in our fire he backward fell adown.\r\nAnd he up start, as doth a wood* lion,                          *furious\r\nAnd with his fist he smote me on the head,\r\nThat on the floor I lay as I were dead.\r\nAnd when he saw how still that there I lay,\r\nHe was aghast, and would have fled away,\r\nTill at the last out of my swoon I braid,*                         *woke\r\n\u201cOh, hast thou slain me, thou false thief?\u201d I said\r\n\u201cAnd for my land thus hast thou murder\u2019d me?\r\nEre I be dead, yet will I kisse thee.\u201d\r\nAnd near he came, and kneeled fair adown,\r\nAnd saide\u201d, \u201cDeare sister Alisoun,\r\nAs help me God, I shall thee never smite:\r\nThat I have done it is thyself to wite,*                          *blame\r\nForgive it me, and that I thee beseek.\u201d*                        *beseech\r\nAnd yet eftsoons* I hit him on the cheek,            *immediately; again\r\nAnd saidde, \u201cThief, thus much am I awreak.*                     *avenged\r\nNow will I die, I may no longer speak.\u201d\r\n\r\nBut at the last, with muche care and woe\r\nWe fell accorded* by ourselves two:                              *agreed\r\nHe gave me all the bridle in mine hand\r\nTo have the governance of house and land,\r\nAnd of his tongue, and of his hand also.\r\nI made him burn his book anon right tho.*                          *then\r\nAnd when that I had gotten unto me\r\nBy mast\u2019ry all the sovereignety,\r\nAnd that he said, \u201cMine owen true wife,\r\nDo *as thee list,* the term of all thy life,           *as pleases thee*\r\nKeep thine honour, and eke keep mine estate;\r\nAfter that day we never had debate.\r\nGod help me so, I was to him as kind\r\nAs any wife from Denmark unto Ind,\r\nAnd also true, and so was he to me:\r\nI pray to God that sits in majesty\r\nSo bless his soule, for his mercy dear.\r\nNow will I say my tale, if ye will hear. \u2014\r\n\r\nThe Friar laugh\u2019d when he had heard all this:\r\n\u201cNow, Dame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cso have I joy and bliss,\r\nThis is a long preamble of a tale.\u201d\r\nAnd when the Sompnour heard the Friar gale,*                      *speak\r\n\u201cLo,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cGodde\u2019s armes two,\r\nA friar will intermete* him evermo\u2019:                     *interpose <33>\r\nLo, goode men, a fly and eke a frere\r\nWill fall in ev\u2019ry dish and eke mattere.\r\nWhat speak\u2019st thou of perambulation?*                          *preamble\r\nWhat? amble or trot; or peace, or go sit down:\r\nThou lettest* our disport in this mattere.\u201d                  *hinderesst\r\n\u201cYea, wilt thou so, Sir Sompnour?\u201d quoth the Frere;\r\n\u201cNow by my faith I shall, ere that I go,\r\nTell of a Sompnour such a tale or two,\r\nThat all the folk shall laughen in this place.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow do, else, Friar, I beshrew* thy face,\u201d                       *curse\r\nQuoth this Sompnour; \u201cand I beshrewe me,\r\nBut if* I telle tales two or three                               *unless\r\nOf friars, ere I come to Sittingbourne,\r\nThat I shall make thine hearte for to mourn:\r\nFor well I wot thy patience is gone.\u201d\r\nOur Hoste cried, \u201cPeace, and that anon;\u201d\r\nAnd saide, \u201cLet the woman tell her tale.\r\nYe fare* as folk that drunken be of ale.                         *behave\r\nDo, Dame, tell forth your tale, and that is best.\u201d\r\n\u201cAll ready, sir,\u201d quoth she, \u201cright as you lest,*                *please\r\nIf I have licence of this worthy Frere.\u201d\r\n\u201cYes, Dame,\u201d quoth he, \u201ctell forth, and I will hear.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Wife of Bath\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Among the evidences that Chaucer\u2019s great work was left\r\nincomplete, is the absence of any link of connexion between the\r\nWife of Bath\u2019s Prologue and Tale, and what goes before. This\r\ndeficiency has in some editions caused the Squire\u2019s and the\r\nMerchant\u2019s Tales to be interposed between those of the Man of\r\nLaw and the Wife of Bath; but in the Merchant\u2019s Tale there is\r\ninternal proof that it was told after the jolly Dame\u2019s.  Several\r\nmanuscripts contain verses designed to serve as a connexion;\r\nbut they are evidently not Chaucer\u2019s, and it is unnecessary to\r\ngive them here. Of this Prologue, which may fairly be regarded\r\nas a distinct autobiographical tale, Tyrwhitt says: \u201cThe\r\nextraordinary length of it, as well as the vein of pleasantry that\r\nruns through it, is very suitable to the character of the speaker.\r\nThe greatest part must have been of Chaucer\u2019s own invention,\r\nthough one may plainly see that he had been reading the popular\r\ninvectives against marriage and women in general; such as the\r\n\u2018Roman de la Rose,\u2019  \u2018Valerius ad Rufinum, De non Ducenda\r\nUxore,\u2019 (\u2018Valerius to Rufinus, on not being ruled by one\u2019s wife\u2019)\r\nand particularly \u2018Hieronymus contra Jovinianum.\u2019 (\u2018Jerome\r\nagainst Jovinianus\u2019)  St Jerome, among other things designed to\r\ndiscourage marriage, has inserted in his treatise a long passage\r\nfrom \u2018Liber Aureolus Theophrasti de Nuptiis.\u2019 (\u2018Theophrastus\u2019s\r\nGolden Book of Marriage\u2019).\u201d\r\n\r\n2. A great part of the marriage service used to be performed in\r\nthe church-porch.\r\n\r\n3. Jesus and the Samaritan woman: John iv. 13.\r\n\r\n4. Dan: Lord; Latin, \u201cdominus.\u201d  Another reading is \u201cthe wise\r\nman, King Solomon.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. Defended: forbade; French, \u201cdefendre,\u201d to prohibit.\r\n\r\n6. Dart: the goal; a spear or dart was set up to mark the point of\r\nvictory.\r\n\r\n7. \u201cBut in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and\r\nsilver, but also of wood and of earth; and some to honour, and\r\nsome to dishonour.\u201d \u2014 2 Tim. ii 20.\r\n\r\n8. Jesus feeding the multitude with barley bread: Mark vi. 41,\r\n42.\r\n\r\n9. At Dunmow prevailed the custom of giving, amid much\r\nmerry making, a flitch of bacon to the married pair who had\r\nlived together for a year without quarrel or regret. The same\r\ncustom prevailed of old in Bretagne.\r\n\r\n10. \u201cCagnard,\u201d or \u201cCaignard,\u201d a French term of reproach,\r\noriginally derived from \u201ccanis,\u201d a dog.\r\n\r\n11. Parage: birth, kindred; from Latin, \u201cpario,\u201d I beget.\r\n\r\n12. Norice: nurse; French, \u201cnourrice.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. This and the previous quotation from Ptolemy are due to\r\nthe Dame\u2019s own fancy.\r\n\r\n14. (Transcriber\u2019s note: Some Victorian censorship here. The\r\nword given in [brackets] should be \u201cqueint\u201d i.e. \u201ccunt\u201d.)\r\n\r\n15. Women should not adorn themselves:  see I Tim. ii. 9.\r\n\r\n16. Cherte: affection; from French, \u201ccher,\u201d dear.\r\n\r\n17. Nicety: folly; French, \u201cniaiserie.\u201d\r\n\r\n18. Ba: kiss; from French, \u201cbaiser.\u201d\r\n\r\n19. Peter!: by Saint Peter! a common adjuration, like Marie!\r\nfrom the Virgin\u2019s name.\r\n\r\n20. St. Joce: or Judocus, a saint of Ponthieu, in France.\r\n\r\n21. \u201cAn allusion,\u201d says Mr Wright, \u201cto the story of the Roman\r\nsage who, when blamed for divorcing his wife, said that a shoe\r\nmight appear outwardly to fit well, but no one but the wearer\r\nknew where it pinched.\u201d\r\n\r\n22. Vigilies: festival-eves; see note 33 to the Prologue to the\r\nTales.\r\n\r\n23. Bobance: boasting; Ben Jonson\u2019s braggart, in \u201cEvery Man in\r\nhis Humour,\u201d is named Bobadil.\r\n\r\n24. \u201cI hold a mouse\u2019s wit not worth a leek,\r\n     That hath but one hole for to starte to\u201d\r\n A very old proverb in French, German, and Latin.\r\n\r\n25. The lines in brackets are only in some of the manuscripts.\r\n\r\n26. Gat-toothed: gap-toothed; goat-toothed; or cat- or separate\r\ntoothed. See note 41 to the prologue to the Tales.\r\n\r\n27. Sempronius Sophus, of whom Valerius Maximus tells in his\r\nsixth book.\r\n\r\n28. The tract of Walter Mapes against marriage, published\r\nunder the title of \u201cEpistola Valerii ad Rufinum.\u201d\r\n\r\n29. \u201cArs Amoris.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. All the mark of Adam: all who bear the mark of Adam i.e.\r\nall men.\r\n\r\n31. The Children of Mercury and Venus: those born under the\r\ninfluence of the respective planets.\r\n\r\n32. A planet, according to the old astrologers, was in\r\n\u201cexaltation\u201d when in the sign of the Zodiac in which it exerted\r\nits strongest influence; the opposite sign, in which it was\r\nweakest, was called its \u201cdejection.\u201d  Venus being strongest in\r\nPisces, was weakest in Virgo; but in Virgo Mercury was in\r\n\u201cexaltation.\u201d\r\n\r\n33. Intermete: interpose; French, \u201centremettre.\u201d\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nIn olde dayes of the king Arthour,\r\nOf which that Britons speake great honour,\r\nAll was this land full fill\u2019d of faerie;*                       *fairies\r\nThe Elf-queen, with her jolly company,\r\nDanced full oft in many a green mead\r\nThis was the old opinion, as I read;\r\nI speak of many hundred years ago;\r\nBut now can no man see none elves mo\u2019,\r\nFor now the great charity and prayeres\r\nOf limitours,* and other holy freres,                *begging friars <2>\r\nThat search every land and ev\u2019ry stream\r\nAs thick as motes in the sunne-beam,\r\nBlessing halls, chambers, kitchenes, and  bowers,\r\nCities and burghes, castles high and towers,\r\nThorpes* and barnes, shepens** and dairies,      *villages <3> **stables\r\nThis makes that there be now no faeries:\r\nFor *there as* wont to walke was an elf,                         *where*\r\nThere walketh now the limitour himself,\r\nIn undermeles* and in morrowings**,             *evenings <4>\t**mornings\r\nAnd saith his matins and his holy things,\r\nAs he goes in his limitatioun.*                        *begging district\r\nWomen may now go safely up and down,\r\nIn every bush, and under every tree;\r\nThere is none other incubus <5> but he;\r\nAnd he will do to them no dishonour.\r\n\r\nAnd so befell it, that this king Arthour\r\nHad in his house a lusty bacheler,\r\nThat on a day came riding from river: <6>\r\nAnd happen\u2019d, that, alone as she was born,\r\nHe saw a maiden walking him beforn,\r\nOf which maiden anon, maugre* her head,                     *in spite of\r\nBy very force he reft her maidenhead:\r\nFor which oppression was such clamour,\r\nAnd such pursuit unto the king Arthour,\r\nThat damned* was this knight for to be dead                   *condemned\r\nBy course of law, and should have lost his head;\r\n(Paraventure such was the statute tho),*                           *then\r\nBut that the queen and other ladies mo\u2019\r\nSo long they prayed the king of his grace,\r\nTill he his life him granted in the place,\r\nAnd gave him to the queen, all at her will\r\nTo choose whether she would him save or spill*                  *destroy\r\nThe queen thanked the king with all her might;\r\nAnd, after this, thus spake she to the knight,\r\nWhen that she saw her time upon a day.\r\n\u201cThou standest yet,\u201d quoth she, \u201cin such array,*             *a position\r\nThat of thy life yet hast thou no surety;\r\nI grant thee life, if thou canst tell to me\r\nWhat thing is it that women most desiren:\r\nBeware, and keep thy neck-bone from the iron*         *executioner\u2019s axe\r\nAnd if thou canst not tell it me anon,\r\nYet will I give thee leave for to gon\r\nA twelvemonth and a day, to seek and lear*                        *learn\r\nAn answer suffisant* in this mattere.                      *satisfactory\r\nAnd surety will I have, ere that thou pace,*                         *go\r\nThy body for to yielden in this place.\u201d\r\nWoe was the knight, and sorrowfully siked;*                      *sighed\r\nBut what? he might not do all as him liked.\r\nAnd at the last he chose him for to wend,*                       *depart\r\nAnd come again, right at the yeare\u2019s end,\r\nWith such answer as God would him purvey:*                      *provide\r\nAnd took his leave, and wended forth his way.\r\n\r\nHe sought in ev\u2019ry house and ev\u2019ry place,\r\nWhere as he hoped for to finde grace,\r\nTo learne what thing women love the most:\r\nBut he could not arrive in any coast,\r\nWhere as he mighte find in this mattere\r\nTwo creatures *according in fere.*                   *agreeing together*\r\nSome said that women loved best richess,\r\nSome said honour, and some said jolliness,\r\nSome rich array, and some said lust* a-bed,                    *pleasure\r\nAnd oft time to be widow and be wed.\r\nSome said, that we are in our heart most eased\r\nWhen that we are y-flatter\u2019d and y-praised.\r\nHe *went full nigh the sooth,* I will not lie;           *came very near\r\nA man shall win us best with flattery;                        the truth*\r\nAnd with attendance, and with business\r\nBe we y-limed,* bothe more and less.              *caught with bird-lime\r\nAnd some men said that we do love the best\r\nFor to be free, and do *right as us lest,*          *whatever we please*\r\nAnd that no man reprove us of our vice,\r\nBut say that we are wise, and nothing nice,*                *foolish <7>\r\nFor truly there is none among us all,\r\nIf any wight will *claw us on the gall,*                  *see note <8>*\r\nThat will not kick, for that he saith us sooth:\r\nAssay,* and he shall find it, that so do\u2019th.                        *try\r\nFor be we never so vicious within,\r\nWe will be held both wise and clean of sin.\r\nAnd some men said, that great delight have we\r\nFor to be held stable and eke secre,*                          *discreet\r\nAnd in one purpose steadfastly to dwell,\r\nAnd not bewray* a thing that men us tell.                     *give away\r\nBut that tale is not worth a rake-stele.*                   *rake-handle\r\nPardie, we women canne nothing hele,*                          *hide <9>\r\nWitness on Midas; will ye hear the tale?\r\nOvid, amonges other thinges smale*                                *small\r\nSaith, Midas had, under his longe hairs,\r\nGrowing upon his head two ass\u2019s ears;\r\nThe whiche vice he hid, as best he might,\r\nFull subtlely from every man\u2019s sight,\r\nThat, save his wife, there knew of it no mo\u2019;\r\nHe lov\u2019d her most, and trusted her also;\r\nHe prayed her, that to no creature\r\nShe woulde tellen of his disfigure.\r\nShe swore him, nay, for all the world to win,\r\nShe would not do that villainy or sin,\r\nTo make her husband have so foul a name:\r\nShe would not tell it for her owen shame.\r\nBut natheless her thoughte that she died,\r\nThat she so longe should a counsel hide;\r\nHer thought it swell\u2019d so sore about her heart\r\nThat needes must some word from her astart\r\nAnd, since she durst not tell it unto man\r\nDown to a marish fast thereby she ran,\r\nTill she came there, her heart was all afire:\r\nAnd, as a bittern bumbles* in the mire,           *makes a humming noise\r\nShe laid her mouth unto the water down\r\n\u201cBewray me not, thou water, with thy soun\u2019\u201d\r\nQuoth she, \u201cto thee I tell it, and no mo\u2019,\r\nMine husband hath long ass\u2019s eares two!\r\nNow is mine heart all whole; now is it out;\r\nI might no longer keep it, out of doubt.\u201d\r\nHere may ye see, though we a time abide,\r\nYet out it must, we can no counsel hide.\r\nThe remnant of the tale, if ye will hear,\r\nRead in Ovid, and there ye may it lear.*                          *learn\r\n\r\nThis knight, of whom my tale is specially,\r\nWhen that he saw he might not come thereby,\r\nThat is to say, what women love the most,\r\nWithin his breast full sorrowful was his ghost.*                 *spirit\r\nBut home he went, for he might not sojourn,\r\nThe day was come, that homeward he must turn.\r\nAnd in his way it happen\u2019d him to ride,\r\nIn all his care,* under a forest side,                 *trouble, anxiety\r\nWhere as he saw upon a dance go\r\nOf ladies four-and-twenty, and yet mo\u2019,\r\nToward this ilke* dance he drew full yern,**        *same **eagerly <10>\r\nThe hope that he some wisdom there should learn;\r\nBut certainly, ere he came fully there,\r\nY-vanish\u2019d was this dance, he knew not where;\r\nNo creature saw he that bare life,\r\nSave on the green he sitting saw a wife,\r\nA fouler wight there may no man devise.*                  *imagine, tell\r\nAgainst* this knight this old wife gan to rise,                 *to meet\r\nAnd said, \u201cSir Knight, hereforth* lieth no way.               *from here\r\nTell me what ye are seeking, by your fay.\r\nParaventure it may the better be:\r\nThese olde folk know muche thing.\u201d quoth she.\r\nMy leve* mother,\u201d quoth this knight, \u201ccertain,                     *dear\r\nI am but dead, but if* that I can sayn                           *unless\r\nWhat thing it is that women most desire:\r\nCould ye me wiss,* I would well *quite your hire.\u201d*       *instruct <11>\r\n\u201cPlight me thy troth here in mine hand,\u201d quoth she,         *reward you*\r\n\u201cThe nexte thing that I require of thee\r\nThou shalt it do, if it be in thy might,\r\nAnd I will tell it thee ere it be night.\u201d\r\n\u201cHave here my trothe,\u201d quoth the knight; \u201cI grant.\u201d\r\n\u201cThenne,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI dare me well avaunt,*             *boast, affirm\r\nThy life is safe, for I will stand thereby,\r\nUpon my life the queen will say as I:\r\nLet see, which is the proudest of them all,\r\nThat wears either a kerchief or a caul,\r\nThat dare say nay to that I shall you teach.\r\nLet us go forth withoute longer speech\r\nThen *rowned she a pistel* in his ear,          *she whispered a secret*\r\nAnd bade him to be glad, and have no fear.\r\n\r\nWhen they were come unto the court, this knight\r\nSaid, he had held his day, as he had hight,*                   *promised\r\nAnd ready was his answer, as he said.\r\nFull many a noble wife, and many a maid,\r\nAnd many a widow, for that they be wise, \u2014\r\nThe queen herself sitting as a justice, \u2014\r\nAssembled be, his answer for to hear,\r\nAnd afterward this knight was bid appear.\r\nTo every wight commanded was silence,\r\nAnd that the knight should tell in audience,\r\nWhat thing that worldly women love the best.\r\nThis knight he stood not still, as doth a beast,\r\nBut to this question anon answer\u2019d\r\nWith manly voice, that all the court it heard,\r\n\u201cMy liege lady, generally,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cWomen desire to have the sovereignty\r\nAs well over their husband as their love\r\nAnd for to be in mast\u2019ry him above.\r\nThis is your most desire, though ye me kill,\r\nDo as you list, I am here at your will.\u201d\r\nIn all the court there was no wife nor maid\r\nNor widow, that contraried what he said,\r\nBut said, he worthy was to have his life.\r\nAnd with that word up start that olde wife\r\nWhich that the knight saw sitting on the green.\r\n\r\n\u201cMercy,\u201d quoth she, \u201cmy sovereign lady queen,\r\nEre that your court departe, do me right.\r\nI taughte this answer unto this knight,\r\nFor which he plighted me his trothe there,\r\nThe firste thing I would of him requere,\r\nHe would it do, if it lay in his might.\r\nBefore this court then pray I thee, Sir Knight,\u201d\r\nQuoth she, \u201cthat thou me take unto thy wife,\r\nFor well thou know\u2019st that I have kept* thy life.             *preserved\r\nIf I say false, say nay, upon thy fay.\u201d*                          *faith\r\nThis knight answer\u2019d, \u201cAlas, and well-away!\r\nI know right well that such was my behest.*                     *promise\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love choose a new request\r\nTake all my good, and let my body go.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, then,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI shrew* us bothe two,                   *curse\r\nFor though that I be old, and foul, and poor,\r\nI n\u2019ould* for all the metal nor the ore,                      *would not\r\nThat under earth is grave,* or lies above                        *buried\r\nBut if thy wife I were and eke thy love.\u201d\r\n\u201cMy love?\u201d quoth he, \u201cnay, my damnation,\r\nAlas! that any of my nation\r\nShould ever so foul disparaged be.\r\nBut all for nought; the end is this, that he\r\nConstrained was, that needs he muste wed,\r\nAnd take this olde wife, and go to bed.\r\n\r\nNow woulde some men say paraventure\r\nThat for my negligence I do no cure*                      *take no pains\r\nTo tell you all the joy and all th\u2019 array\r\nThat at the feast was made that ilke* day.                         *same\r\nTo which thing shortly answeren I shall:\r\nI say there was no joy nor feast at all,\r\nThere was but heaviness and muche sorrow:\r\nFor privily he wed her on the morrow;\r\nAnd all day after hid him as an owl,\r\nSo woe was him, his wife look\u2019d so foul\r\nGreat was the woe the knight had in his thought\r\nWhen he was with his wife to bed y-brought;\r\nHe wallow\u2019d, and he turned to and fro.\r\nThis olde wife lay smiling evermo\u2019,\r\nAnd said, \u201cDear husband, benedicite,\r\nFares every knight thus with his wife as ye?\r\nIs this the law of king Arthoures house?\r\nIs every knight of his thus dangerous?*           *fastidious, niggardly\r\nI am your owen love, and eke your wife\r\nI am she, which that saved hath your life\r\nAnd certes yet did I you ne\u2019er unright.\r\nWhy fare ye thus with me this firste night?\r\nYe fare like a man had lost his wit.\r\nWhat is my guilt? for God\u2019s love tell me it,\r\nAnd it shall be amended, if I may.\u201d\r\n\u201cAmended!\u201d quoth this knight; \u201calas, nay, nay,\r\nIt will not be amended, never mo\u2019;\r\nThou art so loathly, and so old also,\r\nAnd thereto* comest of so low a kind,                       *in addition\r\nThat little wonder though I  wallow and wind;*       *writhe, turn about\r\nSo woulde God, mine hearte woulde brest!\u201d*                        *burst\r\n\u201cIs this,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthe cause of your unrest?\u201d\r\n\u201cYea, certainly,\u201d quoth he; \u201cno wonder is.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, Sir,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI could amend all this,\r\nIf that me list, ere it were dayes three,\r\n*So well ye mighte bear you unto me.*              *if you could conduct\r\nBut, for ye speaken of such gentleness                     yourself well\r\nAs is descended out of old richess,                          towards me*\r\nThat therefore shalle ye be gentlemen;\r\nSuch arrogancy is *not worth a hen.*                      *worth nothing\r\nLook who that is most virtuous alway,\r\n*Prive and apert,* and most intendeth aye        *in private and public*\r\nTo do the gentle deedes that he can;\r\nAnd take him for the greatest gentleman.\r\nChrist will,* we claim of him our gentleness,           *wills, requires\r\nNot of our elders* for their old richess.                     *ancestors\r\nFor though they gave us all their heritage,\r\nFor which we claim to be of high parage,*                *birth, descent\r\nYet may they not bequeathe, for no thing,\r\nTo none of us, their virtuous living\r\nThat made them gentlemen called to be,\r\nAnd bade us follow them in such degree.\r\nWell can the wise poet of Florence,\r\nThat highte Dante, speak of this sentence:*                   *sentiment\r\nLo, in such manner* rhyme is Dante\u2019s tale.                      *kind of\r\n\u2018Full seld\u2019* upriseth by his branches smale                      *seldom\r\nProwess of man, for God of his goodness\r\nWills that we claim of him our gentleness;\u2019 <12>\r\nFor of our elders may we nothing claim\r\nBut temp\u2019ral things that man may hurt and maim.\r\nEke every wight knows this as well as I,\r\nIf gentleness were planted naturally\r\nUnto a certain lineage down the line,\r\nPrive and apert, then would they never fine*                      *cease\r\nTo do of gentleness the fair office\r\nThen might they do no villainy nor vice.\r\nTake fire, and bear it to the darkest house\r\nBetwixt this and the mount of Caucasus,\r\nAnd let men shut the doores, and go thenne,*                     *thence\r\nYet will the fire as fair and lighte brenne*                       *burn\r\nAs twenty thousand men might it behold;\r\n*Its office natural aye will it hold,*              *it will perform its\r\nOn peril of my life, till that it die.                     natural duty*\r\nHere may ye see well how that gentery*              *gentility, nobility\r\nIs not annexed to possession,\r\nSince folk do not their operation\r\nAlway, as doth the fire, lo, *in its kind*        *from its very nature*\r\nFor, God it wot, men may full often find\r\nA lorde\u2019s son do shame and villainy.\r\nAnd he that will have price* of his gent\u2019ry,             *esteem, honour\r\nFor* he was boren of a gentle house,                            *because\r\nAnd had his elders noble and virtuous,\r\nAnd will himselfe do no gentle deedes,\r\nNor follow his gentle ancestry, that dead is,\r\nHe is not gentle, be he duke or earl;\r\nFor villain sinful deedes make a churl.\r\nFor gentleness is but the renomee*                               *renown\r\nOf thine ancestors, for their high bounte,*             *goodness, worth\r\nWhich is a strange thing to thy person:\r\nThy gentleness cometh from God alone.\r\nThen comes our very* gentleness of grace;                          *true\r\nIt was no thing bequeath\u2019d us with our place.\r\nThink how noble, as saith Valerius,\r\nWas thilke* Tullius Hostilius,                                     *that\r\nThat out of povert\u2019 rose to high\r\nRead in Senec, and read eke in Boece,\r\nThere shall ye see express, that it no drede* is,                 *doubt\r\nThat he is gentle that doth gentle deedes.\r\nAnd therefore, leve* husband, I conclude,                          *dear\r\nAlbeit that mine ancestors were rude,\r\nYet may the highe God, \u2014 and so hope I, \u2014\r\nGrant me His grace to live virtuously:\r\nThen am I gentle when that I begin\r\nTo live virtuously, and waive* sin.                             *forsake\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd whereas ye of povert\u2019 me repreve,*                        *reproach\r\nThe highe God, on whom that we believe,\r\nIn wilful povert\u2019 chose to lead his life:\r\nAnd certes, every man, maiden, or wife\r\nMay understand that Jesus, heaven\u2019s king,\r\nNe would not choose a virtuous living.\r\n*Glad povert\u2019* is an honest thing, certain;          *poverty cheerfully\r\nThis will Senec and other clerkes sayn                          endured*\r\nWhoso that *holds him paid of*  his povert\u2019,         *is satisfied with*\r\nI hold him rich though he hath not a shirt.\r\nHe that coveteth is a poore wight\r\nFor he would have what is not in his might\r\nBut he that nought hath, nor coveteth to have,\r\nIs rich, although ye hold him but a knave.*        *slave, abject wretch\r\n*Very povert\u2019 is sinne,* properly.        *the only true poverty is sin*\r\nJuvenal saith of povert\u2019 merrily:\r\nThe poore man, when he goes by the way\r\nBefore the thieves he may sing and play <13>\r\nPovert\u2019 is hateful good,<14> and, as I guess,\r\nA full great *bringer out of business;*           *deliver from trouble*\r\nA great amender eke of sapience\r\nTo him that taketh it in patience.\r\nPovert\u2019 is this, although it seem elenge*                  *strange <15>\r\nPossession that no wight will challenge\r\nPovert\u2019 full often, when a man is low,\r\nMakes him his God and eke himself to know\r\nPovert\u2019 a spectacle* is, as thinketh me            *a pair of spectacles\r\nThrough which he may his very* friendes see.                       *true\r\nAnd, therefore, Sir, since that I you not grieve,\r\nOf my povert\u2019 no more me repreve.*                             *reproach\r\n\u201cNow, Sir, of elde* ye repreve me:                                  *age\r\nAnd certes, Sir, though none authority*                    *text, dictum\r\nWere in no book, ye gentles of honour\r\nSay, that men should an olde wight honour,\r\nAnd call him father, for your gentleness;\r\nAnd authors shall I finden, as I guess.\r\nNow there ye say that I am foul and old,\r\nThen dread ye not to be a cokewold.*                            *cuckold\r\nFor filth, and elde, all so may I the,*                          *thrive\r\nBe greate wardens upon chastity.\r\nBut natheless, since I know your delight,\r\nI shall fulfil your wordly appetite.\r\nChoose now,\u201d quoth she, \u201cone of these thinges tway,\r\nTo have me foul and old till that I dey,*                           *die\r\nAnd be to you a true humble wife,\r\nAnd never you displease in all my life:\r\nOr elles will ye have me young and fair,\r\nAnd take your aventure of the repair*                            *resort\r\nThat shall be to your house because of me, \u2014\r\nOr in some other place, it may well be?\r\nNow choose yourselfe whether that you liketh.\r\n\r\nThis knight adviseth* him and sore he siketh,**     *considered **sighed\r\nBut at the last he said in this mannere;\r\n\u201cMy lady and my love, and wife so dear,\r\nI put me in your wise governance,\r\nChoose for yourself which may be most pleasance\r\nAnd most honour to you and me also;\r\nI *do no force* the whether of the two:                        *care not\r\nFor as you liketh, it sufficeth me.\u201d\r\n\u201cThen have I got the mastery,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cSince I may choose and govern as me lest.\u201d*                    *pleases\r\n\u201cYea, certes wife,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI hold it best.\u201d\r\n\u201cKiss me,\u201d quoth she, \u201cwe are no longer wroth,*             *at variance\r\nFor by my troth I will be to you both;\r\nThis is to say, yea, bothe fair and good.\r\nI pray to God that I may *sterve wood,*                        *die mad*\r\nBut* I to you be all so good and true,                           *unless\r\nAs ever was wife since the world was new;\r\nAnd but* I be to-morrow as fair to seen,                         *unless\r\nAs any lady, emperess or queen,\r\nThat is betwixt the East and eke the West\r\nDo with my life and death right as you lest.*                    *please\r\nCast up the curtain, and look how it is.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd when the knight saw verily all this,\r\nThat she so fair was, and so young thereto,\r\nFor joy he hent* her in his armes two:                             *took\r\nHis hearte bathed in a bath of bliss,\r\nA thousand times *on row* he gan her kiss:               *in succession*\r\nAnd she obeyed him in every thing\r\nThat mighte do him pleasance or liking.\r\nAnd thus they live unto their lives\u2019 end\r\nIn  perfect joy; and Jesus Christ us send\r\nHusbandes meek and young, and fresh in bed,\r\nAnd grace to overlive them that we wed.\r\nAnd eke I pray Jesus to short their lives,\r\nThat will not be governed by their wives.\r\nAnd old and angry niggards of dispence,*                        *expense\r\nGod send them soon a very pestilence!\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Wife of Bath\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. It is not clear whence Chaucer derived this tale. Tyrwhitt\r\nthinks it was taken from the story of Florent, in the first book of\r\nGower\u2019s \u201cConfessio Amantis;\u201d or perhaps from an older\r\nnarrative from which Gower himself borrowed. Chaucer has\r\ncondensed and otherwise improved the fable, especially by\r\nlaying the scene, not in Sicily, but at the court of our own King\r\nArthur.\r\n\r\n2. Limitours: begging friars. See note 18 to the prologue to the\r\nTales.\r\n\r\n3. Thorpes: villages.  Compare German, \u201cDorf,\u201d; Dutch,\r\n\u201cDorp.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. Undermeles: evening-tides, afternoons; \u201cundern\u201d signifies the\r\nevening; and \u201cmele,\u201d corresponds to the German \u201cMal\u201d or\r\n\u201cMahl,\u201d time.\r\n\r\n5. Incubus: an evil spirit supposed to do violence to women; a\r\nnightmare.\r\n\r\n6. Where he had been hawking after waterfowl. Froissart says\r\nthat any one engaged in this sport \u201calloit en riviere.\u201d\r\n\r\n7. Nice: foolish; French, \u201cniais.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Claw us on the gall:  Scratch us on the sore place.  Compare,\r\n\u201cLet the galled jade wince.\u201d Hamlet iii. 2.\r\n\r\n9. Hele: hide; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201chelan,\u201d to hide, conceal.\r\n\r\n10. Yern: eagerly; German, \u201cgern.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Wiss: instruct; German, \u201cweisen,\u201d to show or counsel.\r\n\r\n12. Dante, \u201cPurgatorio\u201d, vii. 121.\r\n\r\n13. \u201cCantabit vacuus coram latrone viator\u201d \u2014 \u201cSatires,\u201d x. 22.\r\n\r\n14. In a fabulous conference between the Emperor Adrian and\r\nthe philosopher Secundus, reported by Vincent of Beauvais,\r\noccurs the passage which Chaucer here paraphrases: \u2014 \u201cQuid\r\nest Paupertas? Odibile bonum; sanitas mater; remotio Curarum;\r\nsapientae repertrix; negotium sine damno; possessio absque\r\ncalumnia; sine sollicitudinae felicitas.\u201d (What is Poverty? A\r\nhateful good; a mother of health; a putting away of cares;  a\r\ndiscoverer of wisdom; business without injury; ownership\r\nwithout calumny; happiness without anxiety)\r\n\r\n15. Elenge: strange; from French \u201celoigner,\u201d to remove.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE FRIAR\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.<1>\r\n\r\nThis worthy limitour, this noble Frere,\r\nHe made always a manner louring cheer*                      *countenance\r\nUpon the Sompnour; but for honesty*                            *courtesy\r\nNo villain word as yet to him spake he:\r\nBut at the last he said unto the Wife:\r\n\u201cDame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cGod give you right good life,\r\nYe have here touched, all so may I the,*                         *thrive\r\nIn school matter a greate difficulty.\r\nYe have said muche thing right well, I say;\r\nBut, Dame, here as we ride by the way,\r\nUs needeth not but for to speak of game,\r\nAnd leave authorities, in Godde\u2019s name,\r\nTo preaching, and to school eke of clergy.\r\nBut if it like unto this company,\r\nI will you of a Sompnour tell a game;\r\nPardie, ye may well knowe by the name,\r\nThat of a Sompnour may no good be said;\r\nI pray that none of you be *evil paid;*                   *dissatisfied*\r\nA Sompnour is a runner up and down\r\nWith mandements* for fornicatioun,                 *mandates, summonses*\r\nAnd is y-beat at every towne\u2019s end.\u201d\r\nThen spake our Host; \u201cAh, sir, ye should be hend*         *civil, gentle\r\nAnd courteous, as a man of your estate;\r\nIn company we will have no debate:\r\nTell us your tale, and let the Sompnour be.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the Sompnour, \u201clet him say by me\r\nWhat so him list; when it comes to my lot,\r\nBy God, I shall him quiten* every groat!                    *pay him off\r\nI shall him telle what a great honour\r\nIt is to be a flattering limitour\r\nAnd his office I shall him tell y-wis\u201d.\r\nOur Host answered, \u201cPeace, no more of this.\u201d\r\nAnd afterward he said unto the frere,\r\n\u201cTell forth your tale, mine owen master dear.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Friar\u2019s tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. On the Tale of the Friar, and that of the Sompnour which\r\nfollows, Tyrwhitt has remarked that they \u201care well engrafted\r\nupon that of the Wife of Bath. The ill-humour which shows\r\nitself between these two characters is quite natural, as no two\r\nprofessions at that time were at more constant variance.  The\r\nregular clergy, and particularly the mendicant friars, affected a\r\ntotal exemption from all ecclesiastical jurisdiction,  except that\r\nof the Pope, which made them exceedingly obnoxious to the\r\nbishops and of course to all the inferior officers of the national\r\nhierarchy.\u201d Both tales, whatever their origin, are bitter satires\r\non the greed and worldliness of the Romish clergy.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.\r\n\r\nWhilom* there was dwelling in my country                 *once on a time\r\nAn archdeacon, a man of high degree,\r\nThat boldely did execution,\r\nIn punishing of fornication,\r\nOf witchecraft, and eke of bawdery,\r\nOf defamation, and adultery,\r\nOf churche-reeves,* and of testaments,                    *churchwardens\r\nOf contracts, and of lack of sacraments,\r\nAnd eke of many another manner* crime,                          *sort of\r\nWhich needeth not rehearsen at this time,\r\nOf usury, and simony also;\r\nBut, certes, lechours did he greatest woe;\r\nThey shoulde singen, if that they were hent;*                    *caught\r\nAnd smale tithers<1> were foul y-shent,*         *troubled, put to shame\r\nIf any person would on them complain;\r\nThere might astert them no pecunial pain.<2>\r\nFor smalle tithes, and small offering,\r\nHe made the people piteously to sing;\r\nFor ere the bishop caught them with his crook,\r\nThey weren in the archedeacon\u2019s book;\r\nThen had he, through his jurisdiction,\r\nPower to do on them correction.\r\n\r\nHe had a Sompnour ready to his hand,\r\nA slier boy was none in Engleland;\r\nFor subtlely he had his espiaille,*                           *espionage\r\nThat taught him well where it might aught avail.\r\nHe coulde spare of lechours one or two,\r\nTo teache him to four and twenty mo\u2019.\r\nFor, \u2014 though this Sompnour wood* be as a hare, \u2014        *furious, mad\r\nTo tell his harlotry I will not spare,\r\nFor we be out of their correction,\r\nThey have of us no jurisdiction,\r\nNe never shall have, term of all their lives.\r\n\r\n\u201cPeter; so be the women of the stives,\u201d*                          *stews\r\nQuoth this Sompnour, \u201cy-put out of our cure.\u201d*                     *care\r\n\r\n\u201cPeace, with mischance and with misaventure,\u201d\r\nOur Hoste said, \u201cand let him tell his tale.\r\nNow telle forth, and let the Sompnour gale,*              *whistle; bawl\r\nNor spare not, mine owen master dear.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis false thief, the Sompnour (quoth the Frere),\r\nHad always bawdes ready to his hand,\r\nAs any hawk to lure in Engleland,\r\nThat told him all the secrets that they knew, \u2014\r\nFor their acquaintance was not come of new;\r\nThey were his approvers* privily.                             *informers\r\nHe took himself at great profit thereby:\r\nHis master knew not always what he wan.*                            *won\r\nWithoute mandement, a lewed* man                               *ignorant\r\nHe could summon, on pain of Christe\u2019s curse,\r\nAnd they were inly glad to fill his purse,\r\nAnd make him greate feastes at the nale.*                      *alehouse\r\nAnd right as Judas hadde purses smale,*                           *small\r\nAnd was a thief, right such a thief was he,\r\nHis master had but half *his duety.*                *what was owing him*\r\nHe was (if I shall give him his laud)\r\nA thief, and eke a Sompnour, and a bawd.\r\nAnd he had wenches at his retinue,\r\nThat whether that Sir Robert or Sir Hugh,\r\nOr Jack, or Ralph, or whoso that it were\r\nThat lay by them, they told it in his ear.\r\nThus were the wench and he of one assent;\r\nAnd he would fetch a feigned mandement,\r\nAnd to the chapter summon them both two,\r\nAnd pill* the man, and let the wenche go.                *plunder, pluck\r\nThen would he say, \u201cFriend, I shall for thy sake\r\nDo strike thee out of oure letters blake;*                        *black\r\nThee thar* no more as in this case travail;                        *need\r\nI am thy friend where I may thee avail.\u201d\r\nCertain he knew of bribers many mo\u2019\r\nThan possible is to tell in yeare\u2019s two:\r\nFor in this world is no dog for the bow,<3>\r\nThat can a hurt deer from a whole know,\r\nBet* than this Sompnour knew a sly lechour,                      *better\r\nOr an adult\u2019rer, or a paramour:\r\nAnd, for that was the fruit of all his rent,\r\nTherefore on it he set all his intent.\r\n\r\nAnd so befell, that once upon a day.\r\nThis Sompnour, waiting ever on his prey,\r\nRode forth to summon a widow, an old ribibe,<4>\r\nFeigning a cause, for he would have a bribe.\r\nAnd happen\u2019d that he saw before him ride\r\nA gay yeoman under a forest side:\r\nA bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen,\r\nHe had upon a courtepy* of green,                         *short doublet\r\nA hat upon his head with fringes blake.*                          *black\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201chail, and well o\u2019ertake.\u201d\r\n\u201cWelcome,\u201d quoth he, \u201cand every good fellaw;\r\nWhither ridest thou under this green shaw?\u201d*                       shade\r\nSaide this yeoman; \u201cwilt thou far to-day?\u201d\r\nThis Sompnour answer\u2019d him, and saide, \u201cNay.\r\nHere faste by,\u201d quoth he, \u201cis mine intent\r\nTo ride, for to raisen up a rent,\r\nThat longeth to my lorde\u2019s duety.\u201d\r\n\u201cAh! art thou then a bailiff?\u201d \u201cYea,\u201d quoth he.\r\nHe durste not for very filth and shame\r\nSay that he was a Sompnour, for the name.\r\n\u201cDe par dieux,\u201d <5> quoth this yeoman, \u201cleve* brother,             *dear\r\nThou art a bailiff, and I am another.\r\nI am unknowen, as in this country.\r\nOf thine acquaintance I will praye thee,\r\nAnd eke of brotherhood, if that thee list.*                      *please\r\nI have gold and silver lying in my chest;\r\nIf that thee hap to come into our shire,\r\nAll shall be thine, right as thou wilt desire.\u201d\r\n\u201cGrand mercy,\u201d* quoth this Sompnour, \u201cby my faith.\u201d        *great thanks\r\nEach in the other\u2019s hand his trothe lay\u2019th,\r\nFor to be sworne brethren till they dey.*                        *die<6>\r\nIn dalliance they ride forth and play.\r\n\r\nThis Sompnour, which that was as full of jangles,*           *chattering\r\nAs full of venom be those wariangles,*               * butcher-birds <7>\r\nAnd ev\u2019r inquiring upon every thing,\r\n\u201cBrother,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwhere is now your dwelling,\r\nAnother day if that I should you seech?\u201d*                   *seek, visit\r\nThis yeoman him answered in soft speech;\r\nBrother,\u201d quoth he, \u201cfar in the North country,<8>\r\nWhere as I hope some time I shall thee see\r\nEre we depart I shall thee so well wiss,*                        *inform\r\nThat of mine house shalt thou never miss.\u201d\r\nNow, brother,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cI you pray,\r\nTeach me, while that we ride by the way,\r\n(Since that ye be a bailiff as am I,)\r\nSome subtilty, and tell me faithfully\r\nFor mine office how that I most may win.\r\nAnd *spare not* for conscience or for sin,             *conceal nothing*\r\nBut, as my brother, tell me how do ye.\u201d\r\nNow by my trothe, brother mine,\u201d said he,\r\nAs I shall tell to thee a faithful tale:\r\nMy wages be full strait and eke full smale;\r\nMy lord is hard to me and dangerous,*                         *niggardly\r\nAnd mine office is full laborious;\r\nAnd therefore by extortion I live,\r\nForsooth I take all that men will me give.\r\nAlgate* by sleighte, or by violence,                            *whether\r\nFrom year to year I win all my dispence;\r\nI can no better tell thee faithfully.\u201d\r\nNow certes,\u201d quoth this Sompnour,  \u201cso fare* I;                      *do\r\nI spare not to take, God it wot,\r\n*But if* it be too heavy or too hot.                            *unless*\r\nWhat I may get in counsel privily,\r\nNo manner conscience of that have I.\r\nN\u2019ere* mine extortion, I might not live,                *were it not for\r\nFor of such japes* will I not be shrive.**           *tricks **confessed\r\nStomach nor conscience know I none;\r\nI shrew* these shrifte-fathers** every one.          *curse **confessors\r\nWell be we met, by God and by St Jame.\r\nBut, leve brother, tell me then thy name,\u201d\r\nQuoth this Sompnour.  Right in this meane while\r\nThis yeoman gan a little for to smile.\r\n\r\n\u201cBrother,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwilt thou that I thee tell?\r\nI am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell,\r\nAnd here I ride about my purchasing,\r\nTo know where men will give me any thing.\r\n*My purchase is th\u2019 effect of all my rent*        *what I can gain is my\r\nLook how thou ridest for the same intent                   sole revenue*\r\nTo winne good, thou reckest never how,\r\nRight so fare I, for ride will I now\r\nInto the worlde\u2019s ende for a prey.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAh,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cbenedicite! what say y\u2019?\r\nI weened ye were a yeoman truly.                                *thought\r\nYe have a manne\u2019s shape as well as I\r\nHave ye then a figure determinate\r\nIn helle, where ye be in your estate?\u201d*                         *at home\r\n\u201cNay, certainly,\u201d quoth he, there have we none,\r\nBut when us liketh we can take us one,\r\nOr elles make you seem* that we be shape                        *believe\r\nSometime like a man, or like an ape;\r\nOr like an angel can I ride or go;\r\nIt is no wondrous thing though it be so,\r\nA lousy juggler can deceive thee.\r\nAnd pardie, yet can I more craft* than he.\u201d              *skill, cunning\r\n\u201cWhy,\u201d quoth the Sompnour, \u201cride ye then or gon\r\nIn sundry shapes and not always in one?\u201d\r\n\u201cFor we,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwill us in such form make.\r\nAs most is able our prey for to take.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat maketh you to have all this labour?\u201d\r\n\u201cFull many a cause, leve Sir Sompnour,\u201d\r\nSaide this fiend. \u201cBut all thing hath a time;\r\nThe day is short and it is passed prime,\r\nAnd yet have I won nothing in this day;\r\nI will intend* to winning, if I may,                       *apply myself\r\nAnd not intend our thinges to declare:\r\nFor, brother mine, thy wit is all too bare\r\nTo understand, although I told them thee.\r\n*But for* thou askest why laboure we:                          *because*\r\nFor sometimes we be Godde\u2019s instruments\r\nAnd meanes to do his commandements,\r\nWhen that him list, upon his creatures,\r\nIn divers acts and in divers figures:\r\nWithoute him we have no might certain,\r\nIf that him list to stande thereagain.*                      *against it\r\nAnd sometimes, at our prayer have we leave\r\nOnly the body, not the soul, to grieve:\r\nWitness on Job, whom that we did full woe,\r\nAnd sometimes have we might on both the two, \u2014\r\nThis is to say, on soul and body eke,\r\nAnd sometimes be we suffer\u2019d for to seek\r\nUpon a man and do his soul unrest\r\nAnd not his body, and all is for the best,\r\nWhen he withstandeth our temptation,\r\nIt is a cause of his salvation,\r\nAlbeit that it was not our intent\r\nHe should be safe, but that we would him hent.*                   *catch\r\nAnd sometimes be we servants unto man,\r\nAs to the archbishop Saint Dunstan,\r\nAnd to th\u2019apostle servant eke was I.\u201d\r\n\u201cYet tell me,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cfaithfully,\r\nMake ye you newe bodies thus alway\r\nOf th\u2019 elements?\u201d The fiend answered, \u201cNay:\r\nSometimes we feign, and sometimes we arise\r\nWith deade bodies, in full sundry wise,\r\nAnd speak as reas\u2019nably, and fair, and well,\r\nAs to the Pythoness<9> did Samuel:\r\nAnd yet will some men say it was not he.\r\nI *do no force of* your divinity.                    *set no value upon*\r\nBut one thing warn I thee, I will not jape,*                        jest\r\nThou wilt *algates weet* how we be shape:               *assuredly know*\r\nThou shalt hereafterward, my brother dear,\r\nCome, where thee needeth not of me to lear.*                      *learn\r\nFor thou shalt by thine own experience\r\n*Conne in a chair to rede of this sentence,*        *learn to understand\r\nBetter than Virgil, while he was alive,                what I have said*\r\nOr Dante also. <10> Now let us ride blive,*                     *briskly\r\nFor I will holde company with thee,\r\nTill it be so that thou forsake me.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cthat shall ne\u2019er betide.\r\nI am a yeoman, that is known full wide;\r\nMy trothe will I hold, as in this case;\r\nFor though thou wert the devil Satanas,\r\nMy trothe will I hold to thee, my brother,\r\nAs I have sworn, and each of us to other,\r\nFor to be true brethren in this case,\r\nAnd both we go *abouten our purchase.*                  *seeking what we\r\nTake thou thy part, what that men will thee give,           may pick up*\r\nAnd I shall mine, thus may we bothe live.\r\nAnd if that any of us have more than other,\r\nLet him be true, and part it with his brother.\u201d\r\n\u201cI grante,\u201d quoth the devil, \u201cby my fay.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word they rode forth their way,\r\nAnd right at th\u2019ent\u2019ring of the towne\u2019s end,\r\nTo which this Sompnour shope* him for to wend,**            *shaped **go\r\nThey saw a cart, that charged was with hay,\r\nWhich that a carter drove forth on his way.\r\nDeep was the way, for which the carte stood:\r\nThe carter smote, and cried as he were wood,*                       *mad\r\n\u201cHeit Scot! heit Brok! what, spare ye for the stones?\r\nThe fiend (quoth he) you fetch body and bones,\r\nAs farforthly* as ever ye were foal\u2019d,                             *sure\r\nSo muche woe as I have with you tholed.*                   *endured <11>\r\nThe devil have all, horses, and cart, and hay.\u201d\r\nThe Sompnour said, \u201cHere shall we have a prey,\u201d\r\nAnd near the fiend he drew, *as nought ne were,*          *as if nothing\r\nFull privily, and rowned* in his ear:                   were the matter*\r\n\u201cHearken, my brother, hearken, by thy faith,                  *whispered\r\nHearest thou not, how that the carter saith?\r\nHent* it anon, for he hath giv\u2019n it thee,                         *seize\r\nBoth hay and cart, and eke his capels* three.\u201d              *horses <12>\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the devil, \u201cGod wot, never a deal,*                    whit\r\nIt is not his intent, trust thou me well;\r\nAsk him thyself, if thou not trowest* me,                     *believest\r\nOr elles stint* a while and thou shalt see.\u201d                       *stop\r\nThe carter thwack\u2019d his horses on the croup,\r\nAnd they began to drawen and to stoop.\r\n\u201cHeit now,\u201d quoth he; \u201cthere, Jesus Christ you bless,\r\nAnd all his handiwork, both more and less!\r\nThat was well twight,* mine owen liart,** boy,        *pulled **grey<13>\r\nI pray God save thy body, and Saint Loy!\r\nNow is my cart out of the slough, pardie.\u201d\r\n\u201cLo, brother,\u201d quoth the fiend, \u201cwhat told I thee?\r\nHere may ye see, mine owen deare brother,\r\nThe churl spake one thing, but he thought another.\r\nLet us go forth abouten our voyage;\r\nHere win I nothing upon this carriage.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen that they came somewhat out of the town,\r\nThis Sompnour to his brother gan to rown;\r\n\u201cBrother,\u201d quoth he, \u201chere wons* an old rebeck,<14>              *dwells\r\nThat had almost as lief to lose her neck.\r\nAs for to give a penny of her good.\r\nI will have twelvepence, though that she be wood,*                  *mad\r\nOr I will summon her to our office;\r\nAnd yet, God wot, of her know I no vice.\r\nBut for thou canst not, as in this country,\r\nWinne thy cost, take here example of me.\u201d\r\nThis Sompnour clapped at the widow\u2019s gate:\r\n\u201cCome out,\u201d he said, \u201cthou olde very trate;*                  *trot <15>\r\nI trow thou hast some friar or priest with thee.\u201d\r\n\u201cWho clappeth?\u201d said this wife; \u201cbenedicite,\r\nGod save you, Sir, what is your sweete will?\u201d\r\n\u201cI have,\u201d quoth he, \u201cof summons here a bill.\r\nUp* pain of cursing, looke that thou be                            *upon\r\nTo-morrow before our archdeacon\u2019s knee,\r\nTo answer to the court of certain things.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow Lord,\u201d quoth she, \u201cChrist Jesus, king of kings,\r\nSo wis1y* helpe me, *as I not may.*                *surely *as I cannot*\r\nI have been sick, and that full many a day.\r\nI may not go so far,\u201d quoth she, \u201cnor ride,\r\nBut I be dead, so pricketh it my side.\r\nMay I not ask a libel, Sir Sompnour,\r\nAnd answer there by my procuratour\r\nTo such thing as men would appose* me?\u201d                          *accuse\r\n\u201cYes,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cpay anon, let see,\r\nTwelvepence to me, and I will thee acquit.\r\nI shall no profit have thereby but lit:*                         *little\r\nMy master hath the profit and not I.\r\nCome off, and let me ride hastily;\r\nGive me twelvepence, I may no longer tarry.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cTwelvepence!\u201d quoth she; \u201cnow lady Sainte Mary\r\nSo wisly* help me out of care and sin,                           *surely\r\nThis wide world though that I should it win,\r\nNo have I not twelvepence within my hold.\r\nYe know full well that I am poor and old;\r\n*Kithe your almes* upon me poor wretch.\u201d             *show your charity*\r\n\u201cNay then,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthe foule fiend me fetch,\r\nIf I excuse thee, though thou should\u2019st be spilt.\u201d*              *ruined\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201cGod wot, I have no guilt.\u201d\r\n\u201cPay me,\u201d quoth he, \u201cor, by the sweet Saint Anne,\r\nAs I will bear away thy newe pan\r\nFor debte, which thou owest me of old, \u2014\r\nWhen that thou madest thine husband cuckold, \u2014\r\nI paid at home for thy correction.\u201d\r\n\u201cThou liest,\u201d quoth she, \u201cby my salvation;\r\nNever was I ere now, widow or wife,\r\nSummon\u2019d unto your court in all my life;\r\nNor never I was but of my body true.\r\nUnto the devil rough and black of hue\r\nGive I thy body and my pan also.\u201d\r\nAnd when the devil heard her curse so\r\nUpon her knees, he said in this mannere;\r\n\u201cNow, Mabily, mine owen mother dear,\r\nIs this your will in earnest that ye say?\u201d\r\n\u201cThe devil,\u201d quoth she, \u201cso fetch him ere he dey,*                  *die\r\nAnd pan and all, but* he will him repent.\u201d                       *unless\r\n\u201cNay, olde stoat,* that is not mine intent,\u201d                    *polecat\r\nQuoth this Sompnour, \u201cfor to repente me\r\nFor any thing that I have had of thee;\r\nI would I had thy smock and every cloth.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, brother,\u201d quoth the devil, \u201cbe not wroth;\r\nThy body and this pan be mine by right.\r\nThou shalt with me to helle yet tonight,\r\nWhere thou shalt knowen of our privity*                         *secrets\r\nMore than a master of divinity.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word the foule fiend him hent.*                    *seized\r\nBody and soul, he with the devil went,\r\nWhere as the Sompnours have their heritage;\r\nAnd God, that maked after his image\r\nMankinde, save and guide us all and some,\r\nAnd let this Sompnour a good man become.\r\nLordings, I could have told you (quoth this Frere),\r\nHad I had leisure for this Sompnour here,\r\nAfter the text of Christ, and Paul, and John,\r\nAnd of our other doctors many a one,\r\nSuch paines, that your heartes might agrise,*              *be horrified\r\nAlbeit so, that no tongue may devise,* \u2014                        *relate\r\nThough that I might a thousand winters tell, \u2014\r\nThe pains of thilke* cursed house of hell                          *that\r\nBut for to keep us from that cursed place\r\nWake we, and pray we Jesus, of his grace,\r\nSo keep us from the tempter, Satanas.\r\nHearken this word, beware as in this case.\r\nThe lion sits *in his await* alway                   *on the watch* <16>\r\nTo slay the innocent, if that he may.\r\nDisposen aye your heartes to withstond\r\nThe fiend that would you make thrall and bond;\r\nHe may not tempte you over your might,\r\nFor Christ will be your champion and your knight;\r\nAnd pray, that this our Sompnour him repent\r\nOf his misdeeds ere that the fiend him hent.*                     *seize\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Friar\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Small tithers:  people who did not pay their full tithes.  Mr\r\nWright remarks that \u201cthe sermons of the friars in the fourteenth\r\ncentury were most frequently designed to impress the ahsolute\r\nduty of paying full tithes and offerings\u201d.\r\n\r\n2. There might astert them no pecunial pain: they got off with\r\nno mere pecuniary punishment. (Transcriber\u2019s note: \u201cAstert\u201d\r\nmeans \u201cescape\u201d.  An alternative reading of this line is \u201cthere\r\nmight astert him no pecunial pain\u201d i.e. no fine ever escaped him\r\n(the archdeacon))\r\n\r\n3. A dog for the bow:  a dog attending a huntsman with bow\r\nand arrow.\r\n\r\n4. Ribibe: the name of a musical instrument; applied to an old\r\nwoman because of the shrillness of her voice.\r\n\r\n5. De par dieux: by the gods.\r\n\r\n6. See note 12 to the Knight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n7. Wariangles: butcher-birds; which are very noisy and\r\nravenous, and tear in pieces the birds on which they prey; the\r\nthorn on which they do this was said to become poisonous.\r\n\r\n8. Medieval legends located hell in the North.\r\n\r\n9. The Pythoness: the witch, or woman, possesed with a\r\nprophesying spirit; from the Greek, \u201cPythia.\u201d  Chaucer of\r\ncourse refers to the raising of Samuel\u2019s spirit by the witch of\r\nEndor.\r\n\r\n10. Dante and Virgil were both poets who had in fancy visited\r\nHell.\r\n\r\n11. Tholed: suffered, endured; \u201cthole\u201d is still used in Scotland in\r\nthe same sense.\r\n\r\n12. Capels: horses. See note 14 to the Reeve\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n13. Liart: grey; elsewhere applied by Chaucer to the hairs of an\r\nold man. So Burns, in the \u201cCotter\u2019s Saturday Night,\u201d speaks of\r\nthe gray temples of \u201cthe sire\u201d \u2014 \u201cHis lyart haffets wearing thin\r\nand bare.\u201d\r\n\r\n14. Rebeck: a kind of fiddle; used like \u201cribibe,\u201d as a nickname\r\nfor a shrill old scold.\r\n\r\n15. Trot; a contemptuous term for an old woman who has\r\ntrotted about much, or who moves with quick short steps.\r\n\r\n16. In his await: on the watch; French, \u201caux aguets.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE SOMPNOUR\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nThe Sompnour in his stirrups high he stood,\r\nUpon this Friar his hearte was so wood,*                        *furious\r\nThat like an aspen leaf he quoke* for ire:             *quaked, trembled\r\n\u201cLordings,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbut one thing I desire;\r\nI you beseech, that of your courtesy,\r\nSince ye have heard this false Friar lie,\r\nAs suffer me I may my tale tell\r\nThis Friar boasteth that he knoweth hell,\r\nAnd, God it wot, that is but little wonder,\r\nFriars and fiends be but little asunder.\r\nFor, pardie, ye have often time heard tell,\r\nHow that a friar ravish\u2019d was to hell\r\nIn spirit ones by a visioun,\r\nAnd, as an angel led him up and down,\r\nTo shew him all the paines that there were,\r\nIn all the place saw he not a frere;\r\nOf other folk he saw enough in woe.\r\nUnto the angel spake the friar tho;*                               *then\r\n\u2018Now, Sir,\u2019 quoth he, \u2018have friars such a grace,\r\nThat none of them shall come into this place?\u2019\r\n\u2018Yes\u2019 quoth the angel; \u2018many a millioun:\u2019\r\nAnd unto Satanas he led him down.\r\n\u2018And now hath Satanas,\u2019 said he, \u2018a tail\r\nBroader than of a carrack<1> is the sail.\r\nHold up thy tail, thou Satanas,\u2019 quoth he,\r\n\u2018Shew forth thine erse, and let the friar see\r\nWhere is the nest of friars in this place.\u2019\r\nAnd *less than half a furlong way of space*            *immediately* <2>\r\nRight so as bees swarmen out of a hive,\r\nOut of the devil\u2019s erse there gan to drive\r\nA twenty thousand friars *on a rout.*                       *in a crowd*\r\nAnd throughout hell they swarmed all about,\r\nAnd came again, as fast as they may gon,\r\nAnd in his erse they creeped every one:\r\nHe clapt his tail again, and lay full still.\r\nThis friar, when he looked had his fill\r\nUpon the torments of that sorry place,\r\nHis spirit God restored of his grace\r\nInto his body again, and he awoke;\r\nBut natheless for feare yet he quoke,\r\nSo was the devil\u2019s erse aye in his mind;\r\nThat is his heritage, *of very kind*                *by his very nature*\r\nGod save you alle, save this cursed Frere;\r\nMy prologue will I end in this mannere.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Sompnour\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Carrack: A great ship of burden used by the Portuguese; the\r\nname is from the Italian, \u201ccargare,\u201d to load\r\n\r\n2. In less than half a furlong way of space: immediately;\r\nliterally, in less time than it takes to walk half a furlong (110\r\nyards).\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.\r\n\r\nLordings, there is in Yorkshire, as I guess,\r\nA marshy country called Holderness,\r\nIn which there went a limitour about\r\nTo preach, and eke to beg, it is no doubt.\r\nAnd so befell that on a day this frere\r\nHad preached at a church in his mannere,\r\nAnd specially, above every thing,\r\nExcited he the people in his preaching\r\nTo trentals, <1> and to give, for Godde\u2019s sake,\r\nWherewith men mighte holy houses make,\r\nThere as divine service is honour\u2019d,\r\nNot there as it is wasted and devour\u2019d,\r\nNor where it needeth not for to be given,\r\nAs to possessioners, <2> that may liven,\r\nThanked be God, in wealth and abundance.\r\n\u201cTrentals,\u201d said he, \u201cdeliver from penance\r\nTheir friendes\u2019 soules, as well old as young,\r\nYea, when that they be hastily y-sung, \u2014\r\nNot for to hold a priest jolly and gay,\r\nHe singeth not but one mass in a day.\r\n\u201cDeliver out,\u201d quoth he, \u201canon the souls.\r\nFull hard it is, with flesh-hook or with owls*                     *awls\r\nTo be y-clawed, or to burn or bake: <3>\r\nNow speed you hastily, for Christe\u2019s sake.\u201d\r\nAnd when this friar had said all his intent,\r\nWith qui cum patre<4> forth his way he went,\r\nWhen folk in church had giv\u2019n him what them lest;*              *pleased\r\nHe went his way, no longer would he rest,\r\nWith scrip and tipped staff, *y-tucked high:*      *with his robe tucked\r\nIn every house he gan to pore* and pry,                   up high* *peer\r\nAnd begged meal and cheese, or elles corn.\r\nHis fellow had a staff tipped with horn,\r\nA pair of tables* all of ivory,                         *writing tablets\r\nAnd a pointel* y-polish\u2019d fetisly,**                  *pencil **daintily\r\nAnd wrote alway the names, as he stood;\r\nOf all the folk that gave them any good,\r\nAskaunce* that he woulde for them pray.                    *see note <5>\r\n\u201cGive us a bushel wheat, or malt, or rey,*                          *rye\r\nA Godde\u2019s kichel,* or a trip** of cheese,        *little cake<6> **scrap\r\nOr elles what you list, we may not chese;*                       *choose\r\nA Godde\u2019s halfpenny, <6> or a mass penny;\r\nOr give us of your brawn, if ye have any;\r\nA dagon* of your blanket, leve dame,                            *remnant\r\nOur sister dear, \u2014 lo, here I write your name,\u2014\r\nBacon or beef, or such thing as ye find.\u201d\r\nA sturdy harlot* went them aye behind,                   *manservant <7>\r\nThat was their hoste\u2019s man, and bare a sack,\r\nAnd what men gave them, laid it on his back\r\nAnd when that he was out at door, anon\r\nHe *planed away* the names every one,                       *rubbed out*\r\nThat he before had written in his tables:\r\nHe served them with nifles* and with fables. \u2014             *silly tales\r\n\r\n\u201cNay, there thou liest, thou Sompnour,\u201d quoth the Frere.\r\n\u201cPeace,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201cfor Christe\u2019s mother dear;\r\nTell forth thy tale, and spare it not at all.\u201d\r\n\u201cSo thrive I,\u201d quoth this Sompnour, \u201cso I shall.\u201d \u2014\r\n\r\nSo long he went from house to house, till he\r\nCame to a house, where he was wont to be\r\nRefreshed more than in a hundred places\r\nSick lay the husband man, whose that the place is,\r\nBed-rid upon a couche low he lay:\r\n*\u201cDeus hic,\u201d* quoth he; \u201cO Thomas friend, good day,\u201d       *God be here*\r\nSaid this friar, all courteously and soft.\r\n\u201cThomas,\u201d quoth he, \u201cGod *yield it you,* full oft       *reward you for*\r\nHave I upon this bench fared full well,\r\nHere have I eaten many a merry meal.\u201d\r\nAnd from the bench he drove away the cat,\r\nAnd laid adown his potent* and his hat,                       *staff <8>\r\nAnd eke his scrip, and sat himself adown:\r\nHis fellow was y-walked into town\r\nForth with his knave,* into that hostelry                       *servant\r\nWhere as he shope* him that night to lie.              *shaped, purposed\r\n\r\n\u201cO deare master,\u201d quoth this sicke man,\r\n\u201cHow have ye fared since that March began?\r\nI saw you not this fortenight and more.\u201d\r\n\u201cGod wot,\u201d quoth he, \u201clabour\u2019d have I full sore;\r\nAnd specially for thy salvation\r\nHave I said many a precious orison,\r\nAnd for mine other friendes, God them bless.\r\nI have this day been at your church at mess,*                      *mass\r\nAnd said sermon after my simple wit,\r\nNot all after the text of Holy Writ;\r\nFor it is hard to you, as I suppose,\r\nAnd therefore will I teach you aye the glose.*           *gloss, comment\r\nGlosing is a full glorious thing certain,\r\nFor letter slayeth, as we clerkes* sayn.                       *scholars\r\nThere have I taught them to be charitable,\r\nAnd spend their good where it is reasonable.\r\nAnd there I saw our dame; where is she?\u201d\r\n\u201cYonder I trow that in the yard she be,\u201d\r\nSaide this man; \u201cand she will come anon.\u201d\r\n\u201cHey master, welcome be ye by Saint John,\u201d\r\nSaide this wife; \u201chow fare ye heartily?\u201d\r\n\r\nThis friar riseth up full courteously,\r\nAnd her embraceth *in his armes narrow,*                        *closely\r\nAnd kiss\u2019th her sweet, and chirketh as a sparrow\r\nWith his lippes: \u201cDame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cright well,\r\nAs he that is your servant every deal.*                            *whit\r\nThanked be God, that gave you soul and life,\r\nYet saw I not this day so fair a wife\r\nIn all the churche, God so save me,\u201d\r\n\u201cYea, God amend defaultes, Sir,\u201d quoth she;\r\n\u201cAlgates* welcome be ye, by my fay.\u201d                             *always\r\n\u201cGrand mercy, Dame; that have I found alway.\r\nBut of your greate goodness, by your leave,\r\nI woulde pray you that ye not you grieve,\r\nI will with Thomas speak *a little throw:*              *a little while*\r\nThese curates be so negligent and slow\r\nTo grope tenderly a conscience.\r\nIn shrift* and preaching is my diligence                     *confession\r\nAnd study in Peter\u2019s wordes and in Paul\u2019s;\r\nI walk and fishe Christian menne\u2019s souls,\r\nTo yield our Lord Jesus his proper rent;\r\nTo spread his word is alle mine intent.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow by your faith, O deare Sir,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cChide him right well, for sainte charity.\r\nHe is aye angry as is a pismire,*                                   *ant\r\nThough that he have all that he can desire,\r\nThough I him wrie* at night, and make him warm,                   *cover\r\nAnd ov\u2019r him lay my leg and eke mine arm,\r\nHe groaneth as our boar that lies in sty:\r\nOther disport of him right none have I,\r\nI may not please him in no manner case.\u201d\r\n\u201cO Thomas, *je vous dis,* Thomas, Thomas,                   *I tell you*\r\nThis *maketh the fiend,* this must be amended.     *is the devil\u2019s work*\r\nIre is a thing that high God hath defended,*                  *forbidden\r\nAnd thereof will I speak a word or two.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, master,\u201d quoth the wife, \u201cere that I go,\r\nWhat will ye dine? I will go thereabout.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, Dame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cje vous dis sans doute, <9>\r\nHad I not of a capon but the liver,\r\nAnd of your white bread not but a shiver,*                   *thin slice\r\nAnd after that a roasted pigge\u2019s head,\r\n(But I would that for me no beast were dead,)\r\nThen had I with you homely suffisance.\r\nI am a man of little sustenance.\r\nMy spirit hath its fost\u2019ring in the Bible.\r\nMy body is aye so ready and penible*                        *painstaking\r\nTo wake,* that my stomach is destroy\u2019d.                           *watch\r\nI pray you, Dame, that ye be not annoy\u2019d,\r\nThough I so friendly you my counsel shew;\r\nBy God, I would have told it but to few.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, Sir,\u201d quoth she, \u201cbut one word ere I go;\r\nMy child is dead within these weeke\u2019s two,\r\nSoon after that ye went out of this town.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cHis death saw I by revelatioun,\u201d\r\nSaid this friar, \u201cat home in our dortour.*               *dormitory <10>\r\nI dare well say, that less than half an hour\r\nMter his death, I saw him borne to bliss\r\nIn mine vision, so God me wiss.*                                 *direct\r\nSo did our sexton, and our fermerere,*                 *infirmary-keeper\r\nThat have been true friars fifty year, \u2014\r\nThey may now, God be thanked of his love,\r\nMake their jubilee, and walk above.<12>\r\nAnd up I rose, and all our convent eke,\r\nWith many a teare trilling on my cheek,\r\nWithoute noise or clattering of bells,\r\nTe Deum was our song, and nothing else,\r\nSave that to Christ I bade an orison,\r\nThanking him of my revelation.\r\nFor, Sir and Dame, truste me right well,\r\nOur orisons be more effectuel,\r\nAnd more we see of Christe\u2019s secret things,\r\nThan *borel folk,* although that they be kings.             *laymen*<13>\r\nWe live in povert\u2019, and in abstinence,\r\nAnd borel folk in riches and dispence\r\nOf meat and drink, and in their foul delight.\r\nWe have this worlde\u2019s lust* all in despight**      * pleasure **contempt\r\nLazar and Dives lived diversely,\r\nAnd diverse guerdon* hadde they thereby.                         *reward\r\nWhoso will pray, he must fast and be clean,\r\nAnd fat his soul, and keep his body lean\r\nWe fare as saith th\u2019 apostle; cloth* and food                  *clothing\r\nSuffice us, although they be not full good.\r\nThe cleanness and the fasting of us freres\r\nMaketh that Christ accepteth our prayeres.\r\nLo, Moses forty days and forty night\r\nFasted, ere that the high God full of might\r\nSpake with him in the mountain of Sinai:\r\nWith empty womb* of fasting many a day                          *stomach\r\nReceived he the lawe, that was writ\r\nWith Godde\u2019s finger; and Eli,<14> well ye wit,*                    *know\r\nIn Mount Horeb, ere he had any speech\r\nWith highe God, that is our live\u2019s leech,*            *physician, healer\r\nHe fasted long, and was in contemplance.\r\nAaron, that had the temple in governance,\r\nAnd eke the other priestes every one,\r\nInto the temple when they shoulde gon\r\nTo praye for the people, and do service,\r\nThey woulde drinken in no manner wise\r\nNo drinke, which that might them drunken make,\r\nBut there in abstinence pray and wake,\r\nLest that they died: take heed what I say \u2014\r\nBut* they be sober that for the people pray \u2014                   *unless\r\nWare that, I say \u2014 no more: for it sufficeth.\r\nOur Lord Jesus, as Holy Writ deviseth,*                        *narrates\r\nGave us example of fasting and prayeres:\r\nTherefore we mendicants, we sely* freres,                 *simple, lowly\r\nBe wedded to povert\u2019 and continence,\r\nTo charity, humbless, and abstinence,\r\nTo persecution for righteousness,\r\nTo weeping, misericorde,* and to cleanness.                  *compassion\r\nAnd therefore may ye see that our prayeres\r\n(I speak of us, we mendicants, we freres),\r\nBe to the highe God more acceptable\r\nThan youres, with your feastes at your table.\r\nFrom Paradise first, if I shall not lie,\r\nWas man out chased for his gluttony,\r\nAnd chaste was man in Paradise certain.\r\nBut hark now, Thomas, what I shall thee sayn;\r\nI have no text of it, as I suppose,\r\nBut I shall find it in *a manner glose;*             *a kind of comment*\r\nThat specially our sweet Lord Jesus\r\nSpake this of friars, when he saide thus,\r\n\u2018Blessed be they that poor in spirit be\u2019\r\nAnd so forth all the gospel may ye see,\r\nWhether it be liker our profession,\r\nOr theirs that swimmen in possession;\r\nFy on their pomp, and on their gluttony,\r\nAnd on their lewedness!  I them defy.\r\nMe thinketh they be like Jovinian,<15>\r\nFat as a whale, and walking as a swan;\r\nAll vinolent* as bottle in the spence;**      *full of wine **store-room\r\nTheir prayer is of full great reverence;\r\nWhen they for soules say the Psalm of David,\r\nLo, \u2018Buf\u2019 they say, Cor meum eructavit.<16>\r\nWho follow Christe\u2019s gospel and his lore*                      *doctrine\r\nBut we, that humble be, and chaste, and pore,*                     *poor\r\nWorkers of Godde\u2019s word, not auditours?*                        *hearers\r\nTherefore right as a hawk *upon a sours*                        *rising*\r\nUp springs into the air, right so prayeres\r\nOf charitable and chaste busy freres\r\n*Make their sours* to Godde\u2019s eares two.                          *rise*\r\nThomas, Thomas, so may I ride or go,\r\nAnd by that lord that called is Saint Ive,\r\n*N\u2019ere thou our brother, shouldest thou not thrive;*    *see note  <17>*\r\nIn our chapiter pray we day and night\r\nTo Christ, that he thee sende health and might,\r\nThy body for to *wielde hastily.*          *soon be able to move freely*\r\n\r\n\u201cGod wot,\u201d quoth he, \u201cnothing thereof feel I;\r\nSo help me Christ, as I in fewe years\r\nHave spended upon *divers manner freres*       *friars of various sorts*\r\nFull many a pound, yet fare I ne\u2019er the bet;*                    *better\r\nCertain my good have I almost beset:*                             *spent\r\nFarewell my gold, for it is all ago.\u201d*                             *gone\r\nThe friar answer\u2019d, \u201cO Thomas, dost thou so?\r\nWhat needest thou diverse friars to seech?*                        *seek\r\nWhat needeth him that hath a perfect leech,*                     *healer\r\nTo seeken other leeches in the town?\r\nYour inconstance is your confusioun.\r\nHold ye then me, or elles our convent,\r\nTo praye for you insufficient?\r\nThomas, that jape* it is not worth a mite;                         *jest\r\nYour malady is *for we have too lite.*                  *because we have\r\nAh, give that convent half a quarter oats;                   too little*\r\nAnd give that convent four and twenty groats;\r\nAnd give that friar a penny, and let him go!\r\nNay, nay, Thomas, it may no thing be so.\r\nWhat is a farthing worth parted on twelve?\r\nLo, each thing that is oned* in himselve               *made one, united\r\nIs more strong than when it is y-scatter\u2019d.\r\nThomas, of me thou shalt not be y-flatter\u2019d,\r\nThou wouldest have our labour all for nought.\r\nThe highe God, that all this world hath wrought,\r\nSaith, that the workman worthy is his hire\r\nThomas, nought of your treasure I desire\r\nAs for myself, but that all our convent\r\nTo pray for you is aye so diligent:\r\nAnd for to builde Christe\u2019s owen church.\r\nThomas, if ye will learne for to wirch,*                           *work\r\nOf building up of churches may ye find\r\nIf it be good, in Thomas\u2019 life of Ind.<18>\r\nYe lie here full of anger and of ire,\r\nWith which the devil sets your heart on fire,\r\nAnd chide here this holy innocent\r\nYour wife, that is so meek and patient.\r\nAnd therefore trow* me, Thomas, if thee lest,**        *believe **please\r\nNe strive not with thy wife, as for the best.\r\nAnd bear this word away now, by thy faith,\r\nTouching such thing, lo, what the wise man saith:\r\n\u2018Within thy house be thou no lion;\r\nTo thy subjects do none oppression;\r\nNor make thou thine acquaintance for to flee.\u2019\r\nAnd yet, Thomas, eftsoones* charge I thee,                        *again\r\nBeware from ire that in thy bosom sleeps,\r\nWare from the serpent, that so slily creeps\r\nUnder the grass, and stingeth subtilly.\r\nBeware, my son, and hearken patiently,\r\nThat twenty thousand men have lost their lives\r\nFor striving with their lemans* and their wives.             *mistresses\r\nNow since ye have so holy and meek a wife,\r\nWhat needeth you, Thomas, to make strife?\r\nThere is, y-wis,* no serpent so cruel,                        *certainly\r\nWhen men tread on his tail nor half so fell,*                    *fierce\r\nAs woman is, when she hath caught an ire;\r\nVery* vengeance is then all her desire.                      *pure, only\r\nIre is a sin, one of the greate seven,\r\nAbominable to the God of heaven,\r\nAnd to himself it is destruction.\r\nThis every lewed* vicar and parson                             *ignorant\r\nCan say, how ire engenders homicide;\r\nIre is in sooth th\u2019 executor* of pride.                     *executioner\r\nI could of ire you say so muche sorrow,\r\nMy tale shoulde last until to-morrow.\r\nAnd therefore pray I God both day and ight,\r\nAn irous* man God send him little might.                     *passionate\r\nIt is great harm, and certes great pity\r\nTo set an irous man in high degree.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhilom* there was an irous potestate,**               *once **judge<19>\r\nAs saith Senec, that during his estate*                  *term of office\r\nUpon a day out rode knightes two;\r\nAnd, as fortune would that it were so,\r\nThe one of them came home, the other not.\r\nAnon the knight before the judge is brought,\r\nThat saide thus; \u2018Thou hast thy fellow slain,\r\nFor which I doom thee to the death certain.\u2019\r\nAnd to another knight commanded he;\r\n\u2018Go, lead him to the death, I charge thee.\u2019\r\nAnd happened, as they went by the way\r\nToward the place where as he should dey,*                           *die\r\nThe knight came, which men weened* had been dead                *thought\r\nThen thoughte they it was the beste rede*                       *counsel\r\nTo lead them both unto the judge again.\r\nThey saide, \u2018Lord, the knight hath not y-slain\r\nHis fellow; here he standeth whole alive.\u2019\r\n\u2018Ye shall be dead,\u2019 quoth he, \u2018so may I thrive,\r\nThat is to say, both one, and two, and three.\u2019\r\nAnd to the firste knight right thus spake he:\r\n\u2018I damned thee, thou must algate* be dead:                *at all events\r\nAnd thou also must needes lose thine head,\r\nFor thou the cause art why thy fellow dieth.\u2019\r\nAnd to the thirde knight right thus he sayeth,\r\n\u2018Thou hast not done that I commanded thee.\u2019\r\nAnd thus he did do slay them alle three.\r\n\r\nIrous Cambyses was eke dronkelew,*                           *a drunkard\r\nAnd aye delighted him to be a shrew.*             *vicious, ill-tempered\r\nAnd so befell, a lord of his meinie,*                             *suite\r\nThat loved virtuous morality,\r\nSaid on a day betwixt them two right thus:\r\n\u2018A lord is lost, if he be vicious.\r\n[An irous man is like a frantic beast,\r\nIn which there is of wisdom *none arrest*;]                 *no control*\r\nAnd drunkenness is eke a foul record\r\nOf any man, and namely* of a lord.                           *especially\r\nThere is full many an eye and many an ear\r\n*Awaiting on* a lord, he knows not where.                      *watching\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, drink more attemperly:*                   *temperately\r\nWine maketh man to lose wretchedly\r\nHis mind, and eke his limbes every one.\u2019\r\n\u2018The reverse shalt thou see,\u2019 quoth he, \u2018anon,\r\nAnd prove it by thine own experience,\r\nThat wine doth to folk no such offence.\r\nThere is no wine bereaveth me my might\r\nOf hand, nor foot, nor of mine eyen sight.\u2019\r\nAnd for despite he dranke muche more\r\nA hundred part* than he had done before,                          *times\r\nAnd right anon this cursed irous wretch\r\nThis knighte\u2019s sone let* before him fetch,                       *caused\r\nCommanding him he should before him stand:\r\nAnd suddenly he took his bow in hand,\r\nAnd up the string he pulled to his ear,\r\nAnd with an arrow slew the child right there.\r\n\u2018Now whether have I a sicker* hand or non?\u2019**                *sure **not\r\nQuoth he; \u2018Is all my might and mind agone?\r\nHath wine bereaved me mine eyen sight?\u2019\r\nWhy should I tell the answer of the knight?\r\nHis son was slain, there is no more to say.\r\nBeware therefore with lordes how ye play,*                  *use freedom\r\nSing placebo;<20> and I shall if I can,\r\n*But if* it be unto a poore man:                                 *unless\r\nTo a poor man men should his vices tell,\r\nBut not t\u2019 a lord, though he should go to hell.\r\nLo, irous Cyrus, thilke* Persian,                                  *that\r\nHow he destroy\u2019d the river of Gisen,<21>\r\nFor that a horse of his was drowned therein,\r\nWhen that he wente Babylon to win:\r\nHe made that the river was so small,\r\nThat women mighte wade it *over all.*                        *everywhere\r\nLo, what said he, that so well teache can,\r\n\u2018Be thou no fellow to an irous man,\r\nNor with no wood* man walke by the way,                         *furious\r\nLest thee repent;\u2019 I will no farther say.\r\n\r\n\u201cNow, Thomas, leve* brother, leave thine ire,                      *dear\r\nThou shalt me find as just as is as squire;\r\nHold not the devil\u2019s knife aye at thine heaat;\r\nThine anger doth thee all too sore smart;*                         *pain\r\nBut shew to me all thy confession.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the sicke man, \u201cby Saint Simon\r\nI have been shriven* this day of my curate;                   *confessed\r\nI have him told all wholly mine estate.\r\nNeedeth no more to speak of it, saith he,\r\nBut if me list of mine humility.\u201d\r\n\u201cGive me then of thy good to make our cloister,\u201d\r\nQuoth he, \u201cfor many a mussel and many an oyster,\r\nWhen other men have been full well at ease,\r\nHath been our food, our cloister for to rese:*             *raise, build\r\nAnd yet, God wot, unneth* the foundement**        *scarcely **foundation\r\nPerformed is, nor of our pavement\r\nIs not a tile yet within our wones:*                         *habitation\r\nBy God, we owe forty pound for stones.\r\nNow help, Thomas, for *him that harrow\u2019d hell,*             *Christ <22>\r\nFor elles must we oure bookes sell,\r\nAnd if ye lack our predication,\r\nThen goes this world all to destruction.\r\nFor whoso from this world would us bereave,\r\nSo God me save, Thomas, by your leave,\r\nHe would bereave out of this world the sun\r\nFor who can teach and worken as we conne?*               *know how to do\r\nAnd that is not of little time (quoth he),\r\nBut since Elijah was, and Elisee,*                               *Elisha\r\nHave friars been, that find I of record,\r\nIn charity, y-thanked be our Lord.\r\nNow, Thomas, help for sainte charity.\u201d\r\nAnd down anon he set him on his knee,\r\nThe sick man waxed well-nigh wood* for ire,                         *mad\r\nHe woulde that the friar had been a-fire\r\nWith his false dissimulation.\r\n\u201cSuch thing as is in my possession,\u201d\r\nQuoth he, \u201cthat may I give you and none other:\r\nYe say me thus, how that I am your brother.\u201d\r\n\u201cYea, certes,\u201d quoth this friar, \u201cyea, truste well;\r\nI took our Dame the letter of our seal\u201d<23>\r\n\u201cNow well,\u201d quoth he, \u201cand somewhat shall I give\r\nUnto your holy convent while I live;\r\nAnd in thine hand thou shalt it have anon,\r\nOn this condition, and other none,\r\nThat thou depart* it so, my deare brother,                       *divide\r\nThat every friar have as much as other:\r\nThis shalt thou swear on thy profession,\r\nWithoute fraud or cavillation.\u201d*                              *quibbling\r\n\u201cI swear it,\u201d quoth the friar, \u201cupon my faith.\u201d\r\nAnd therewithal his hand in his he lay\u2019th;\r\n\u201cLo here my faith, in me shall be no lack.\u201d\r\n\u201cThen put thine hand adown right by my back,\u201d\r\nSaide this man, \u201cand grope well behind,\r\nBeneath my buttock, there thou shalt find\r\nA thing, that I have hid in privity.\u201d\r\n\u201cAh,\u201d thought this friar, \u201cthat shall go with me.\u201d\r\nAnd down his hand he launched to the clift,*                      *cleft\r\nIn hope for to finde there a gift.\r\nAnd when this sicke man felte this frere\r\nAbout his taile groping there and here,\r\nAmid his hand he let the friar a fart;\r\nThere is no capel* drawing in a cart,                             *horse\r\nThat might have let a fart of such a soun\u2019.\r\nThe friar up start, as doth a wood* lioun:                       *fierce\r\n\u201cAh, false churl,\u201d quoth he, \u201cfor Godde\u2019s bones,\r\nThis hast thou in despite done for the nones:*               *on purpose\r\nThou shalt abie* this fart, if that I may.\u201d                  *suffer for\r\nHis meinie,* which that heard of this affray,                  *servants\r\nCame leaping in, and chased out the frere,\r\nAnd forth he went with a full angry cheer*                  *countenance\r\nAnd fetch\u2019d his fellow, there as lay his store:\r\nHe looked as it were a wilde boar,\r\nAnd grounde with his teeth, so was he wroth.\r\nA sturdy pace down to the court he go\u2019th,\r\nWhere as there wonn\u2019d* a man of great honour,                     *dwelt\r\nTo whom that he was always confessour:\r\nThis worthy man was lord of that village.\r\nThis friar came, as he were in a rage,\r\nWhere as this lord sat eating at his board:\r\nUnnethes* might the friar speak one word,               *with difficulty\r\nTill at the last he saide, \u201cGod you see.\u201d*                         *save\r\n\r\nThis lord gan look, and said, \u201cBen\u2019dicite!\r\nWhat? Friar John, what manner world is this?\r\nI see well that there something is amiss;\r\nYe look as though the wood were full of thieves.\r\nSit down anon, and tell me what your grieve* is,       *grievance, grief\r\nAnd it shall be amended, if I may.\u201d\r\n\u201cI have,\u201d quoth he, \u201chad a despite to-day,\r\nGod *yielde you,* adown in your village,                     *reward you\r\nThat in this world is none so poor a page,\r\nThat would not have abominatioun\r\nOf that I have received in your town:\r\nAnd yet ne grieveth me nothing so sore,\r\nAs that the olde churl, with lockes hoar,\r\nBlasphemed hath our holy convent eke.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, master,\u201d quoth this lord, \u201cI you beseek\u201d \u2014\r\n\u201cNo master, Sir,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbut servitour,\r\nThough I have had in schoole that honour. <24>\r\nGod liketh not, that men us Rabbi call\r\nNeither in market, nor in your large hall.\u201d\r\n*\u201cNo force,\u201d* quoth he; \u201cbut tell me all your grief.\u201d        *no matter*\r\nSir,\u201d quoth this friar, \u201can odious mischief\r\nThis day betid* is to mine order and me,                       *befallen\r\nAnd so par consequence to each degree\r\nOf holy churche, God amend it soon.\u201d\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth the lord, \u201cye know what is to doon:*                    *do\r\n*Distemp\u2019r you not,* ye be my confessour.             *be not impatient*\r\nYe be the salt of th\u2019 earth, and the savour;\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love your patience now hold;\r\nTell me your grief.\u201d And he anon him told\r\nAs ye have heard before, ye know well what.\r\nThe lady of the house aye stiller sat,\r\nTill she had hearde what the friar said,\r\n\u201cHey, Godde\u2019s mother;\u201d quoth she, \u201cblissful maid,\r\nIs there ought elles? tell me faithfully.\u201d\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth he, \u201chow thinketh you thereby?\u201d\r\n\u201cHow thinketh me?\u201d quoth she; \u201cso God me speed,\r\nI say, a churl hath done a churlish deed,\r\nWhat should I say?  God let him never the;*                      *thrive\r\nHis sicke head is full of vanity;\r\nI hold him in *a manner phrenesy.\u201d*                   *a sort of frenzy*\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cby God, I shall not lie,\r\nBut I in other wise may be awreke,*                            *revenged\r\nI shall defame him *ov\u2019r all there* I speak;                   *wherever\r\nThis false blasphemour, that charged me\r\nTo parte that will not departed be,\r\nTo every man alike, with mischance.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe lord sat still, as he were in a trance,\r\nAnd in his heart he rolled up and down,\r\n\u201cHow had this churl imaginatioun\r\nTo shewe such a problem to the frere.\r\nNever ere now heard I of such mattere;\r\nI trow* the Devil put it in his mind.                           *believe\r\nIn all arsmetrik* shall there no man find,                   *arithmetic\r\nBefore this day, of such a question.\r\nWho shoulde make a demonstration,\r\nThat every man should have alike his part\r\nAs of the sound and savour of a fart?\r\nO nice* proude churl, I shrew** his face.               *foolish **curse\r\nLo, Sires,\u201d quoth the lord, \u201cwith harde grace,\r\nWho ever heard of such a thing ere now?\r\nTo every man alike? tell me how.\r\nIt is impossible, it may not be.\r\nHey nice* churl, God let him never the.**              *foolish **thrive\r\nThe rumbling of a fart, and every soun\u2019,\r\nIs but of air reverberatioun,\r\nAnd ever wasteth lite* and lite* away;                           *little\r\nThere is no man can deemen,* by my fay,                   *judge, decide\r\nIf that it were departed* equally.                              *divided\r\nWhat? lo, my churl, lo yet how shrewedly*           *impiously, wickedly\r\nUnto my confessour to-day he spake;\r\nI hold him certain a demoniac.\r\nNow eat your meat, and let the churl go play,\r\nLet him go hang himself a devil way!\u201d\r\n\r\nNow stood the lorde\u2019s squier at the board,\r\nThat carv\u2019d his meat, and hearde word by word\r\nOf all this thing, which that I have you said.\r\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbe ye not *evil paid,*                *displeased*\r\nI coulde telle, for a gowne-cloth,*                   *cloth for a gown*\r\nTo you, Sir Friar, so that ye be not wrot,\r\nHow that this fart should even* dealed be                       *equally\r\nAmong your convent, if it liked thee.\u201d\r\n\u201cTell,\u201d quoth the lord, \u201cand thou shalt have anon\r\nA gowne-cloth, by God and by Saint John.\u201d\r\n\u201cMy lord,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwhen that the weather is fair,\r\nWithoute wind, or perturbing of air,\r\nLet* bring a cart-wheel here into this hall,                      cause*\r\nBut looke that it have its spokes all;\r\nTwelve spokes hath a cart-wheel commonly;\r\nAnd bring me then twelve friars, know ye why?\r\nFor thirteen is a convent as I guess;<25>\r\nYour confessor here, for his worthiness,\r\nShall *perform up* the number of his convent.                 *complete*\r\nThen shall they kneel adown by one assent,\r\nAnd to each spoke\u2019s end, in this mannere,\r\nFull sadly* lay his nose shall a frere;             *carefully, steadily\r\nYour noble confessor there, God him save,\r\nShall hold his nose upright under the nave.\r\nThen shall this churl, with belly stiff and tought*               *tight\r\nAs any tabour,* hither be y-brought;                               *drum\r\nAnd set him on the wheel right of this cart\r\nUpon the nave, and make him let a fart,\r\nAnd ye shall see, on peril of my life,\r\nBy very proof that is demonstrative,\r\nThat equally the sound of it will wend,*                             *go\r\nAnd eke the stink, unto the spokes\u2019 end,\r\nSave that this worthy man, your confessour\u2019\r\n(Because he is a man of great honour),\r\nShall have the firste fruit, as reason is;\r\nThe noble usage of friars yet it is,\r\nThe worthy men of them shall first be served,\r\nAnd certainly he hath it well deserved;\r\nHe hath to-day taught us so muche good\r\nWith preaching in the pulpit where he stood,\r\nThat I may vouchesafe, I say for me,\r\nHe had the firste smell of fartes three;\r\nAnd so would all his brethren hardily;\r\nHe beareth him so fair and holily.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe lord, the lady, and each man, save the frere,\r\nSaide, that Jankin spake in this mattere\r\nAs well as Euclid, or as Ptolemy.\r\nTouching the churl, they said that subtilty\r\nAnd high wit made him speaken as he spake;\r\nHe is no fool, nor no demoniac.\r\nAnd Jankin hath y-won a newe gown;\r\nMy tale is done, we are almost at town.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Sompnour\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Trentals: The money given to the priests for performing thirty\r\nmasses for the dead, either in succession or on the anniversaries\r\nof their death; also the masses themselves, which were very\r\nprofitable to the clergy.\r\n\r\n2. Possessioners: The regular religious orders, who had lands\r\nand fixed revenues; while the friars, by their vows, had to\r\ndepend on voluntary contributions, though their need suggested\r\nmany modes of evading the prescription.\r\n\r\n3. In Chaucer\u2019s day the most material notions about the tortures\r\nof hell prevailed, and were made the most of by the clergy, who\r\npreyed on the affection and fear of the survivors, through the\r\ningenious doctrine of purgatory. Old paintings and illuminations\r\nrepresent the dead as torn by hooks, roasted in fires, boiled in\r\npots, and subjected to many other physical torments.\r\n\r\n4. Qui cum patre: \u201cWho with the father\u201d; the closing words of\r\nthe final benediction pronounced at Mass.\r\n\r\n5. Askaunce: The word now means sideways or asquint; here it\r\nmeans \u201cas if;\u201d and its force is probably to suggest that the\r\nsecond friar, with an ostentatious stealthiness, noted down the\r\nnames of the liberal, to make them believe that they would be\r\nremembered in the holy beggars\u2019 orisons.\r\n\r\n6. A Godde\u2019s kichel/halfpenny: a little cake/halfpenny, given for\r\nGod\u2019s sake.\r\n\r\n7. Harlot: hired servant; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201chyran,\u201d to hire;\r\nthe word was commonly applied to males.\r\n\r\n8. Potent: staff; French, \u201cpotence,\u201d crutch, gibbet.\r\n\r\n9. Je vous dis sans doute: French; \u201cI tell you without doubt.\u201d\r\n\r\n10. Dortour: dormitory; French, \u201cdortoir.\u201d\r\n\r\n12. The Rules of St Benedict granted peculiar honours and\r\nimmunities to monks who had lived fifty years \u2014 the jubilee\r\nperiod \u2014 in the order. The usual reading of the words ending\r\nthe two lines is \u201cloan\u201d or \u201clone,\u201d and \u201calone;\u201d but to walk alone\r\ndoes not seem to have been any peculiar privilege of a friar,\r\nwhile the idea of precedence, or higher place at table and in\r\nprocessions, is suggested by the reading in the text.\r\n\r\n13. Borel folk:  laymen, people who are not learned; \u201cborel\u201d\r\nwas a kind of coarse cloth.\r\n\r\n14. Eli: Elijah (1 Kings, xix.)\r\n\r\n15. An emperor Jovinian was famous in the mediaeval  legends\r\nfor his pride and luxury\r\n\r\n16. Cor meum eructavit: literally, \u201cMy heart has belched forth;\u201d\r\nin our translation, (i.e. the Authorised \u201cKing James\u201d Version -\r\nTranscriber) \u201cMy heart is inditing a goodly matter.\u201d  (Ps. xlv.\r\n1.). \u201cBuf\u201d is meant to represent the sound  of an eructation, and\r\nto show the \u201cgreat reverence\u201d with which \u201cthose in possession,\u201d\r\nthe monks of the rich monasteries, performed divine service,\r\n\r\n17. N\u2019ere thou our brother, shouldest thou not thrive: if thou\r\nwert not of our  brotherhood, thou shouldst have no hope of\r\nrecovery.\r\n\r\n18. Thomas\u2019 life of Ind: The life of  Thomas of India - i.e. St.\r\nThomas the Apostle, who was said to have travelled to India.\r\n\r\n19. Potestate:  chief magistrate or judge; Latin, \u201cpotestas;\u201d\r\nItalian, \u201cpodesta.\u201d  Seneca relates the story of Cornelius Piso;\r\n\u201cDe Ira,\u201d i. 16.\r\n\r\n20. Placebo: An anthem of the Roman Church, from Psalm\r\ncxvi. 9, which in the Vulgate reads, \u201cPlacebo Domino in regione\r\nvivorum\u201d \u2014 \u201cI will please the Lord in the land of the living\u201d\r\n\r\n21. The Gysen:  Seneca calls it the Gyndes; Sir John Mandeville\r\ntells the story of the Euphrates. \u201cGihon,\u201d was the name of one\r\nof the four rivers of Eden (Gen. ii, 13).\r\n\r\n22. Him that harrowed Hell: Christ. See note 14 to the Reeve\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n23. Mr. Wright says that \u201cit was a common practice to grant\r\nunder the conventual seal to benefactors and others a brotherly\r\nparticipation in the spiritual good works of the convent, and in\r\ntheir expected reward after death.\u201d\r\n\r\n24. The friar had received a master\u2019s degree.\r\n\r\n25. The regular number of monks or friars in a convent was\r\nfixed at twelve,  with a superior, in imitation of the apostles and\r\ntheir Master; and large religious houses were held to consist of\r\nso many convents.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE CLERK\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\n\u201cSIR Clerk of Oxenford,\u201d our Hoste said,\r\n\u201cYe ride as still and coy, as doth a maid\r\nThat were new spoused, sitting at the board:\r\nThis day I heard not of your tongue a word.\r\nI trow ye study about some sophime:*                            *sophism\r\nBut Solomon saith, every thing hath time.\r\nFor Godde\u2019s sake, be of *better cheer,*                  *livelier mien*\r\nIt is no time for to study here.\r\nTell us some merry tale, by your fay;*                            *faith\r\nFor what man that is entered in a play,\r\nHe needes must unto that play assent.\r\nBut preache not, as friars do in Lent,\r\nTo make us for our olde sinnes weep,\r\nNor that thy tale make us not to sleep.\r\nTell us some merry thing of aventures.\r\nYour terms, your coloures, and your figures,\r\nKeep them in store, till so be ye indite\r\nHigh style, as when that men to kinges write.\r\nSpeake so plain at this time, I you pray,\r\nThat we may understande what ye say.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis worthy Clerk benignely answer\u2019d;\r\n\u201cHoste,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI am under your yerd,*                      *rod <1>\r\nYe have of us as now the governance,\r\nAnd therefore would I do you obeisance,\r\nAs far as reason asketh, hardily:*                        *boldly, truly\r\nI will you tell a tale, which that I\r\nLearn\u2019d at Padova of a worthy clerk,\r\nAs proved by his wordes and his werk.\r\nHe is now dead, and nailed in his chest,\r\nI pray to God to give his soul good rest.\r\nFrancis Petrarc\u2019, the laureate poet,<2>\r\nHighte* this clerk, whose rhetoric so sweet                  *was called\r\nIllumin\u2019d all Itale of poetry,\r\nAs Linian <3> did of philosophy,\r\nOr law, or other art particulere:\r\nBut death, that will not suffer us dwell here\r\nBut as it were a twinkling of an eye,\r\nThem both hath slain, and alle we shall die.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut forth to tellen of this worthy man,\r\nThat taughte me this tale, as I began,\r\nI say that first he with high style inditeth\r\n(Ere he the body of his tale writeth)\r\nA proem, in the which describeth he\r\nPiedmont, and of Saluces <4> the country,\r\nAnd speaketh of the Pennine hilles high,\r\nThat be the bounds of all West Lombardy:\r\nAnd of Mount Vesulus in special,\r\nWhere as the Po out of a welle small\r\nTaketh his firste springing and his source,\r\nThat eastward aye increaseth in his course\r\nT\u2019Emilia-ward, <5> to Ferraro, and Venice,\r\nThe which a long thing were to devise.*                         *narrate\r\nAnd truely, as to my judgement,\r\nMe thinketh it a thing impertinent,*                         *irrelevant\r\nSave that he would conveye his mattere:\r\nBut this is the tale, which that ye shall hear.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Clerk\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Under your yerd: under your rod; as the emblem of\r\ngovernment or direction.\r\n\r\n2. Francesco Petrarca, born 1304, died 1374; for his Latin epic\r\npoem on the carer of Scipio, called \u201cAfrica,\u201d he was solemnly\r\ncrowned with the poetic laurel in the  Capitol of Rome, on\r\nEaster-day of 1341.\r\n\r\n3. Linian: An eminent jurist and philosopher, now almost\r\nforgotten, who died four or five years after Petrarch.\r\n\r\n4. Saluces: Saluzzo, a district of Savoy; its marquises were\r\ncelebrated during the Middle Ages.\r\n\r\n5. Emilia:  The region called Aemilia, across which ran the Via\r\nAemilia \u2014 made by M. Aemilius Lepidus, who was consul at\r\nRome B.C. 187. It continued the Flaminian  Way from\r\nAriminum (Rimini) across the Po at Placentia (Piacenza) to\r\nMediolanum (Milan), traversing Cisalpine Gaul.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.<1>\r\n\r\n*Pars Prima.*                                               *First Part*\r\n\r\nThere is, right at the west side of Itale,\r\nDown at the root of Vesulus<2> the cold,\r\nA lusty* plain, abundant of vitaille;*              *pleasant **victuals\r\nThere many a town and tow\u2019r thou may\u2019st behold,\r\nThat founded were in time of fathers old,\r\nAnd many another delectable sight;\r\nAnd Saluces this noble country hight.\r\n\r\nA marquis whilom lord was of that land,\r\nAs were his worthy elders* him before,                        *ancestors\r\nAnd obedient, aye ready to his hand,\r\nWere all his lieges, bothe less and more:\r\nThus in delight he liv\u2019d, and had done yore,*                      *long\r\nBelov\u2019d and drad,* through favour of fortune,         *held in reverence\r\nBoth of his lordes and of his commune.*                      *commonalty\r\n\r\nTherewith he was, to speak of lineage,\r\nThe gentilest y-born of Lombardy,\r\nA fair person, and strong, and young of age,\r\nAnd full of honour and of courtesy:\r\nDiscreet enough his country for to gie,*                    *guide, rule\r\nSaving in some things that he was to blame;\r\nAnd Walter was this younge lordes name.\r\n\r\nI blame him thus, that he consider\u2019d not\r\nIn time coming what might him betide,\r\nBut on his present lust* was all his thought,                  *pleasure\r\nAnd for to hawk and hunt on every side;\r\nWell nigh all other cares let he slide,\r\nAnd eke he would (that was the worst of all)\r\nWedde no wife for aught that might befall.\r\n\r\nOnly that point his people bare so sore,\r\nThat flockmel* on a day to him they went,                     *in a body\r\nAnd one of them, that wisest was of lore\r\n(Or elles that the lord would best assent\r\nThat he should tell him what the people meant,\r\nOr elles could he well shew such mattere),\r\nHe to the marquis said as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cO noble Marquis! your humanity\r\nAssureth us and gives us hardiness,\r\nAs oft as time is of necessity,\r\nThat we to you may tell our heaviness:\r\nAccepte, Lord, now of your gentleness,\r\nWhat we with piteous heart unto you plain,*                 *complain of\r\nAnd let your ears my voice not disdain.\r\n\r\n\u201cAll* have I nought to do in this mattere                      *although\r\nMore than another man hath in this place,\r\nYet forasmuch as ye, my Lord so dear,\r\nHave always shewed me favour and grace,\r\nI dare the better ask of you a space\r\nOf audience, to shewen our request,\r\nAnd ye, my Lord, to do right *as you lest.*            *as pleaseth you*\r\n\r\n\u201cFor certes, Lord, so well us like you\r\nAnd all your work, and ev\u2019r have done, that we\r\nNe coulde not ourselves devise how\r\nWe mighte live in more felicity:\r\nSave one thing, Lord, if that your will it be,\r\nThat for to be a wedded man you lest;\r\nThen were your people *in sovereign hearte\u2019s rest.*          *completely\r\n\r\n\u201cBowe your neck under the blissful yoke\r\nOf sovereignty, and not of service,\r\nWhich that men call espousal or wedlock:\r\nAnd thinke, Lord, among your thoughtes wise,\r\nHow that our dayes pass in sundry wise;\r\nFor though we sleep, or wake, or roam, or ride,\r\nAye fleeth time, it will no man abide.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd though your greene youthe flow\u2019r as yet,\r\nIn creepeth age always as still as stone,\r\nAnd death menaceth every age, and smit*                         *smiteth\r\nIn each estate, for there escapeth none:\r\nAnd all so certain as we know each one\r\nThat we shall die, as uncertain we all\r\nBe of that day when death shall on us fall.\r\n\r\n\u201cAccepte then of us the true intent,*                      *mind, desire\r\nThat never yet refused youre hest,*                             *command\r\nAnd we will, Lord, if that ye will assent,\r\nChoose you a wife, in short time at the lest,*                    *least\r\nBorn of the gentilest and of the best\r\nOf all this land, so that it ought to seem\r\nHonour to God and you, as we can deem.\r\n\r\n\u201cDeliver us out of all this busy dread,*                          *doubt\r\nAnd take a wife, for highe Godde\u2019s sake:\r\nFor if it so befell, as God forbid,\r\nThat through your death your lineage should slake,*      *become extinct\r\nAnd that a strange successor shoulde take\r\nYour heritage, oh! woe were us on live:*                          *alive\r\nWherefore we pray you hastily to wive.\u201d\r\n\r\nTheir meeke prayer and their piteous cheer\r\nMade the marquis for to have pity.\r\n\u201cYe will,\u201d quoth he, \u201cmine owen people dear,\r\nTo that I ne\u2019er ere* thought constraine me.                      *before\r\nI me rejoiced of my liberty,\r\nThat seldom time is found in rnarriage;\r\nWhere I was free, I must be in servage!*                      *servitude\r\n\r\n\u201cBut natheless I see your true intent,\r\nAnd trust upon your wit, and have done aye:\r\nWherefore of my free will I will assent\r\nTo wedde me, as soon as e\u2019er I may.\r\nBut whereas ye have proffer\u2019d me to-day\r\nTo choose me a wife, I you release\r\nThat choice, and pray you of that proffer cease.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor God it wot, that children often been\r\nUnlike their worthy elders them before,\r\nBounte* comes all of God, not of the strene**                  *goodness\r\nOf which they be engender\u2019d and y-bore:                    **stock, race\r\nI trust in Godde\u2019s bounte, and therefore\r\nMy marriage, and mine estate and rest,\r\nI *him betake;* he may do as him lest.                   *commend to him\r\n\r\n\u201cLet me alone in choosing of my wife;\r\nThat charge upon my back I will endure:\r\nBut I you pray, and charge upon your life,\r\nThat what wife that I take, ye me assure\r\nTo worship* her, while that her life may dure,                   *honour\r\nIn word and work both here and elleswhere,\r\nAs she an emperore\u2019s daughter were.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd farthermore this shall ye swear, that ye\r\nAgainst my choice shall never grudge* nor strive.                *murmur\r\nFor since I shall forego my liberty\r\nAt your request, as ever may I thrive,\r\nWhere as mine heart is set, there will I live\r\nAnd but* ye will assent in such mannere,                         *unless\r\nI pray you speak no more of this mattere.\u201d\r\n\r\nWith heartly will they sworen and assent\r\nTo all this thing, there said not one wight nay:\r\nBeseeching him of grace, ere that they went,\r\nThat he would grante them a certain day\r\nOf his espousal, soon as e\u2019er he rnay,\r\nFor yet always the people somewhat dread*         *were in fear or doubt\r\nLest that the marquis woulde no wife wed.\r\n\r\nHe granted them a day, such as him lest,\r\nOn which he would be wedded sickerly,*                        *certainly\r\nAnd said he did all this at their request;\r\nAnd they with humble heart full buxomly,*                *obediently <3>\r\nKneeling upon their knees full reverently,\r\nHim thanked all; and thus they have an end\r\nOf their intent, and home again they wend.\r\n\r\nAnd hereupon he to his officers\r\nCommanded for the feaste to purvey.*                            *provide\r\nAnd to his privy knightes and squiers\r\nSuch charge he gave, as him list on them lay:\r\nAnd they to his commandement obey,\r\nAnd each of them doth all his diligence\r\nTo do unto the feast all reverence.\r\n\r\n*Pars Secunda*                                             *Second Part*\r\n\r\nNot far from thilke* palace honourable,                            *that\r\nWhere as this marquis shope* his marriage,        *prepared; resolved on\r\nThere stood a thorp,* of sighte delectable,                      *hamlet\r\nIn which the poore folk of that village\r\nHadde their beastes and their harbourage,*                     *dwelling\r\nAnd of their labour took their sustenance,\r\nAfter the earthe gave them abundance.\r\n\r\nAmong this poore folk there dwelt a man\r\nWhich that was holden poorest of them all;\r\nBut highe God sometimes sende can\r\nHis grace unto a little ox\u2019s stall;\r\nJanicola men of that thorp him call.\r\nA daughter had he, fair enough to sight,\r\nAnd Griseldis this younge maiden hight.\r\n\r\nBut for to speak of virtuous beauty,\r\nThen was she one the fairest under sun:\r\nFull poorely y-foster\u2019d up was she;\r\nNo *likerous lust* was in her heart y-run;          *luxurious pleasure*\r\nWell ofter of the well than of the tun\r\nShe drank, <4> and, for* she woulde virtue please               *because\r\nShe knew well labour, but no idle ease.\r\n\r\nBut though this maiden tender were of age;\r\nYet in the breast of her virginity\r\nThere was inclos\u2019d a *sad and ripe corage;*        *steadfast and mature\r\nAnd in great reverence and charity                               spirit*\r\nHer olde poore father foster\u2019d she.\r\nA few sheep, spinning, on the field she kept,\r\nShe woulde not be idle till she slept.\r\n\r\nAnd when she homeward came, she would bring\r\nWortes,* and other herbes, times oft,                  *plants, cabbages\r\nThe which she shred and seeth\u2019d for her living,\r\nAnd made her bed full hard, and nothing soft:\r\nAnd aye she kept her father\u2019s life on loft*                   *up, aloft\r\nWith ev\u2019ry obeisance and diligence,\r\nThat child may do to father\u2019s reverence.\r\n\r\nUpon Griselda, this poor creature,\r\nFull often sithes* this marquis set his eye,                      *times\r\nAs he on hunting rode, paraventure:*                          *by chance\r\nAnd when it fell that he might her espy,\r\nHe not with wanton looking of folly\r\nHis eyen cast on her, but in sad* wise                          *serious\r\nUpon her cheer* he would him oft advise;**       *countenance **consider\r\n\r\nCommending in his heart her womanhead,\r\nAnd eke her virtue, passing any wight\r\nOf so young age, as well in cheer as deed.\r\nFor though the people have no great insight\r\nIn virtue, he considered full right\r\nHer bounte,* and disposed that he would                        *goodness\r\nWed only her, if ever wed he should.\r\n\r\nThe day of wedding came, but no wight can\r\nTelle what woman that it shoulde be;\r\nFor which marvail wonder\u2019d many a man,\r\nAnd saide, when they were in privity,\r\n\u201cWill not our lord yet leave his vanity?\r\nWill he not wed?  Alas, alas the while!\r\nWhy will he thus himself and us beguile?\u201d\r\n\r\nBut natheless this marquis had *done make*           *caused to be made*\r\nOf gemmes, set in gold and in azure,\r\nBrooches and ringes, for Griselda\u2019s sake,\r\nAnd of her clothing took he the measure\r\nOf a maiden like unto her stature,\r\nAnd eke of other ornamentes all\r\nThat unto such a wedding shoulde fall.*                           *befit\r\n\r\nThe time of undern* of the same day                         *evening <5>\r\nApproached, that this wedding shoulde be,\r\nAnd all the palace put was in array,\r\nBoth hall and chamber, each in its degree,\r\nHouses of office stuffed with plenty\r\nThere may\u2019st thou see of dainteous vitaille,*      *victuals, provisions\r\nThat may be found, as far as lasts Itale.\r\n\r\nThis royal marquis, richely array\u2019d,\r\nLordes and ladies in his company,\r\nThe which unto the feaste were pray\u2019d,\r\nAnd of his retinue the bach\u2019lery,\r\nWith many a sound of sundry melody,\r\nUnto the village, of the which I told,\r\nIn this array the right way did they hold.\r\n\r\nGriseld\u2019 of this (God wot) full innocent,\r\nThat for her shapen* was all this array,                       *prepared\r\nTo fetche water at a well is went,\r\nAnd home she came as soon as e\u2019er she may.\r\nFor well she had heard say, that on that day\r\nThe marquis shoulde wed, and, if she might,\r\nShe fain would have seen somewhat of that sight.\r\n\r\nShe thought, \u201cI will with other maidens stand,\r\nThat be my fellows, in our door, and see\r\nThe marchioness; and therefore will I fand*                      *strive\r\nTo do at home, as soon as it may be,\r\nThe labour which belongeth unto me,\r\nAnd then I may at leisure her behold,\r\nIf she this way unto the castle hold.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd as she would over the threshold gon,\r\nThe marquis came and gan for her to call,\r\nAnd she set down her water-pot anon\r\nBeside the threshold, in an ox\u2019s stall,\r\nAnd down upon her knees she gan to fall,\r\nAnd with sad* countenance kneeled still,                         *steady\r\nTill she had heard what was the lorde\u2019s will.\r\n\r\nThe thoughtful marquis spake unto the maid\r\nFull soberly, and said in this mannere:\r\n\u201cWhere is your father, Griseldis?\u201d he said.\r\nAnd she with reverence, *in humble cheer,*             *with humble air*\r\nAnswered, \u201cLord, he is all ready here.\u201d\r\nAnd in she went withoute longer let*                              *delay\r\nAnd to the marquis she her father fet.*                         *fetched\r\n\r\nHe by the hand then took the poore man,\r\nAnd saide thus, when he him had aside:\r\n\u201cJanicola, I neither may nor can\r\nLonger the pleasance of mine hearte hide;\r\nIf that thou vouchesafe, whatso betide,\r\nThy daughter will I take, ere that I wend,*                          *go\r\nAs for my wife, unto her life\u2019s end.\r\n\r\n\u201cThou lovest me, that know I well certain,\r\nAnd art my faithful liegeman y-bore,*                              *born\r\nAnd all that liketh me, I dare well sayn\r\nIt liketh thee; and specially therefore\r\nTell me that point, that I have said before, \u2014\r\nIf that thou wilt unto this purpose draw,\r\nTo take me as for thy son-in-law.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis sudden case* the man astonied so,                            *event\r\nThat red he wax\u2019d, abash\u2019d,* and all quaking                     *amazed\r\nHe stood; unnethes* said he wordes mo\u2019,                        *scarcely\r\nBut only thus; \u201cLord,\u201d quoth he, \u201cmy willing\r\nIs as ye will, nor against your liking\r\nI will no thing, mine owen lord so dear;\r\nRight as you list governe this mattere.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThen will I,\u201d quoth the marquis softely,\r\n\u201cThat in thy chamber I, and thou, and she,\r\nHave a collation;* and know\u2019st thou why?                     *conference\r\nFor I will ask her, if her will it be\r\nTo be my wife, and rule her after me:\r\nAnd all this shall be done in thy presence,\r\nI will not speak out of thine audience.\u201d*                       *hearing\r\n\r\nAnd in the chamber while they were about\r\nThe treaty, which ye shall hereafter hear,\r\nThe people came into the house without,\r\nAnd wonder\u2019d them in how honest mannere\r\nAnd tenderly she kept her father dear;\r\nBut utterly Griseldis wonder might,\r\nFor never erst* ne saw she such a sight.                         *before\r\n\r\nNo wonder is though that she be astoned,*                    *astonished\r\nTo see so great a guest come in that place,\r\nShe never was to no such guestes woned;*               *accustomed, wont\r\nFor which she looked with full pale face.\r\nBut shortly forth this matter for to chase,*            *push on, pursue\r\nThese are the wordes that the marquis said\r\nTo this benigne, very,* faithful maid.                         *true <6>\r\n\r\n\u201cGriseld\u2019,\u201d he said, \u201cye shall well understand,\r\nIt liketh to your father and to me\r\nThat I you wed, and eke it may so stand,\r\nAs I suppose ye will that it so be:\r\nBut these demandes ask I first,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cSince that it shall be done in hasty wise;\r\nWill ye assent, or elles you advise?*                          *consider\r\n\r\n\u201cI say this, be ye ready with good heart\r\nTo all my lust,* and that I freely may,                        *pleasure\r\nAs me best thinketh, *do you* laugh or smart,             *cause you to*\r\nAnd never ye to grudge,* night nor day,                          *murmur\r\nAnd eke when I say Yea, ye say not Nay,\r\nNeither by word, nor frowning countenance?\r\nSwear this, and here I swear our alliance.\u201d\r\n\r\nWond\u2019ring upon this word, quaking for dread,\r\nShe saide; \u201cLord, indigne and unworthy\r\nAm I to this honour that ye me bede,*                             *offer\r\nBut as ye will yourself, right so will I:\r\nAnd here I swear, that never willingly\r\nIn word or thought I will you disobey,\r\nFor to be dead; though me were loth to dey.\u201d*                       *die\r\n\r\n\u201cThis is enough, Griselda mine,\u201d quoth he.\r\nAnd forth he went with a full sober cheer,\r\nOut at the door, and after then came she,\r\nAnd to the people he said in this mannere:\r\n\u201cThis is my wife,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthat standeth here.\r\nHonoure her, and love her, I you pray,\r\nWhoso me loves; there is no more to say.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd, for that nothing of her olde gear\r\nShe shoulde bring into his house, he bade\r\nThat women should despoile* her right there;                      *strip\r\nOf which these ladies were nothing glad\r\nTo handle her clothes wherein she was clad:\r\nBut natheless this maiden bright of hue\r\nFrom foot to head they clothed have all new.\r\n\r\nHer haires have they comb\u2019d that lay untress\u2019d*                   *loose\r\nFull rudely, and with their fingers small\r\nA crown upon her head they have dress\u2019d,\r\nAnd set her full of nouches <7> great and small:\r\nOf her array why should I make a tale?\r\nUnneth* the people her knew for her fairness,                  *scarcely\r\nWhen she transmuted was in such richess.\r\n\r\nThe marquis hath her spoused with a ring\r\nBrought for the same cause, and then her set\r\nUpon a horse snow-white, and well ambling,\r\nAnd to his palace, ere he longer let*                           *delayed\r\nWith joyful people, that her led and met,\r\nConveyed her; and thus the day they spend\r\nIn revel, till the sunne gan descend.\r\n\r\nAnd, shortly forth this tale for to chase,\r\nI say, that to this newe marchioness\r\nGod hath such favour sent her of his grace,\r\nThat it ne seemed not by likeliness\r\nThat she was born and fed in rudeness, \u2014\r\nAs in a cot, or in an ox\u2019s stall, \u2014\r\nBut nourish\u2019d in an emperore\u2019s hall.\r\n\r\nTo every wight she waxen* is so dear                              *grown\r\nAnd worshipful, that folk where she was born,\r\nThat from her birthe knew her year by year,\r\n*Unnethes trowed* they, but durst have sworn,        *scarcely believed*\r\nThat to Janicol\u2019 of whom I spake before,\r\nShe was not daughter, for by conjecture\r\nThem thought she was another creature.\r\n\r\nFor though that ever virtuous was she,\r\nShe was increased in such excellence\r\nOf thewes* good, y-set in high bounte,                        *qualities\r\nAnd so discreet, and fair of eloquence,\r\nSo benign, and so digne* of reverence,                           *worthy\r\nAnd coulde so the people\u2019s heart embrace,\r\nThat each her lov\u2019d that looked on her face.\r\n\r\nNot only of Saluces in the town\r\nPublished was the bounte of her name,\r\nBut eke besides in many a regioun;\r\nIf one said well, another said the same:\r\nSo spread of here high bounte the fame,\r\nThat men and women, young as well as old,\r\nWent to Saluces, her for to behold.\r\n\r\nThus Walter lowly, \u2014 nay, but royally,-\r\nWedded with fortn\u2019ate honestete,*                                *virtue\r\nIn Godde\u2019s peace lived full easily\r\nAt home, and outward grace enough had he:\r\nAnd, for he saw that under low degree\r\nWas honest virtue hid, the people him held\r\nA prudent man, and that is seen full seld\u2019.*                     *seldom\r\n\r\nNot only this Griseldis through her wit\r\n*Couth all the feat* of wifely homeliness,         *knew all the duties*\r\nBut eke, when that the case required it,\r\nThe common profit coulde she redress:\r\nThere n\u2019as discord, rancour, nor heaviness\r\nIn all the land, that she could not appease,\r\nAnd wisely bring them all in rest and ease\r\n\r\nThough that her husband absent were or non,*                        *not\r\nIf gentlemen or other of that country,\r\nWere wroth,* she woulde bringe them at one,                     *at feud\r\nSo wise and ripe wordes hadde she,\r\nAnd judgement of so great equity,\r\nThat she from heaven sent was, as men wend,*           *weened, imagined\r\nPeople to save, and every wrong t\u2019amend\r\n\r\nNot longe time after that this Griseld\u2019\r\nWas wedded, she a daughter had y-bore;\r\nAll she had lever* borne a knave** child,                  *rather **boy\r\nGlad was the marquis and his folk therefore;\r\nFor, though a maiden child came all before,\r\nShe may unto a knave child attain\r\nBy likelihood, since she is not barren.\r\n\r\n*Pars Tertia.*                                              *Third Part*\r\n\r\nThere fell, as falleth many times mo\u2019,\r\nWhen that his child had sucked but a throw,*                little while\r\nThis marquis in his hearte longed so\r\nTo tempt his wife, her sadness* for to know,              *steadfastness\r\nThat he might not out of his hearte throw\r\nThis marvellous desire his wife t\u2019asssay;*                          *try\r\nNeedless,* God wot, he thought her to affray.**           *without cause\r\n                                                        **alarm, disturb\r\nHe had assayed her anough before,\r\nAnd found her ever good; what needed it\r\nHer for to tempt, and always more and more?\r\nThough some men praise it for a subtle wit,\r\nBut as for me, I say that *evil it sit*              *it ill became him*\r\nT\u2019assay a wife when that it is no need,\r\nAnd putte her in anguish and in dread.\r\n\r\nFor which this marquis wrought in this mannere:\r\nHe came at night alone there as she lay,\r\nWith sterne face and with full troubled cheer,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cGriseld\u2019,\u201d quoth he \u201cthat day\r\nThat I you took out of your poor array,\r\nAnd put you in estate of high nobless,\r\nYe have it not forgotten, as I guess.\r\n\r\n\u201cI say, Griseld\u2019, this present dignity,\r\nIn which that I have put you, as I trow*                        *believe\r\nMaketh you not forgetful for to be\r\nThat I you took in poor estate full low,\r\nFor any weal you must yourselfe know.\r\nTake heed of every word that I you say,\r\nThere is no wight that hears it but we tway.*                       *two\r\n\r\n\u201cYe know yourself well how that ye came here\r\nInto this house, it is not long ago;\r\nAnd though to me ye be right lefe* and dear,                      *loved\r\nUnto my gentles* ye be nothing so:                   *nobles, gentlefolk\r\nThey say, to them it is great shame and woe\r\nFor to be subject, and be in servage,\r\nTo thee, that born art of small lineage.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd namely* since thy daughter was y-bore                   *especially\r\nThese wordes have they spoken doubteless;\r\nBut I desire, as I have done before,\r\nTo live my life with them in rest and peace:\r\nI may not in this case be reckeless;\r\nI must do with thy daughter for the best,\r\nNot as I would, but as my gentles lest.*                         *please\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd yet, God wot, this is full loth* to me:                     *odious\r\nBut natheless withoute your weeting*                            *knowing\r\nI will nought do; but this will I,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cThat ye to me assenten in this thing.\r\nShew now your patience in your working,\r\nThat ye me hight* and swore in your village                    *promised\r\nThe day that maked was our marriage.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen she had heard all this, she not amev\u2019d*                    *changed\r\nNeither in word, in cheer, nor countenance\r\n(For, as it seemed, she was not aggriev\u2019d);\r\nShe saide; \u201cLord, all lies in your pleasance,\r\nMy child and I, with hearty obeisance\r\nBe youres all, and ye may save or spill*                        *destroy\r\nYour owen thing: work then after your will.\r\n\r\n\u201cThere may no thing, so God my soule save,\r\n*Like to* you, that may displease me:                      *be pleasing*\r\nNor I desire nothing for to have,\r\nNor dreade for to lose, save only ye:\r\nThis will is in mine heart, and aye shall be,\r\nNo length of time, nor death, may this deface,\r\nNor change my corage* to another place.\u201d                  *spirit, heart\r\n\r\nGlad was the marquis for her answering,\r\nBut yet he feigned as he were not so;\r\nAll dreary was his cheer and his looking\r\nWhen that he should out of the chamber go.\r\nSoon after this, a furlong way or two,<8>\r\nHe privily hath told all his intent\r\nUnto a man, and to his wife him sent.\r\n\r\nA *manner sergeant* was this private* man,              *kind of squire*\r\nThe which he faithful often founden had                        *discreet\r\nIn thinges great, and eke such folk well can\r\nDo execution in thinges bad:\r\nThe lord knew well, that he him loved and drad.*                *dreaded\r\nAnd when this sergeant knew his lorde\u2019s will,\r\nInto the chamber stalked he full still.\r\n\r\n\u201cMadam,\u201d he said, \u201cye must forgive it me,\r\nThough I do thing to which I am constrain\u2019d;\r\nYe be so wise, that right well knowe ye\r\n*That lordes\u2019 hestes may not be y-feign\u2019d;*               *see note <9>*\r\nThey may well be bewailed and complain\u2019d,\r\nBut men must needs unto their lust* obey;                      *pleasure\r\nAnd so will I, there is no more to say.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis child I am commanded for to take.\u201d\r\nAnd spake no more, but out the child he hent*                    *seized\r\nDispiteously,* and gan a cheer** to make     *unpityingly **show, aspect\r\nAs though he would have slain it ere he went.\r\nGriseldis must all suffer and consent:\r\nAnd as a lamb she sat there meek and still,\r\nAnd let this cruel sergeant do his will\r\n\r\nSuspicious* was the diffame** of this man,    *ominous **evil reputation\r\nSuspect his face, suspect his word also,\r\nSuspect the time in which he this began:\r\nAlas! her daughter, that she loved so,\r\nShe weened* he would have it slain right tho,**          *thought **then\r\nBut natheless she neither wept nor siked,*                       *sighed\r\nConforming her to what the marquis liked.\r\n\r\nBut at the last to speake she began,\r\nAnd meekly she unto the sergeant pray\u2019d,\r\nSo as he was a worthy gentle man,\r\nThat she might kiss her child, ere that it died:\r\nAnd in her barme* this little child she laid,                *lap, bosom\r\nWith full sad face, and gan the child to bless,*                  *cross\r\nAnd lulled it, and after gan it kiss.\r\n\r\nAnd thus she said in her benigne voice:\r\nFarewell, my child, I shall thee never see;\r\nBut since I have thee marked with the cross,\r\nOf that father y-blessed may\u2019st thou be\r\nThat for us died upon a cross of tree:\r\nThy soul, my little child, I *him betake,*             *commit unto him*\r\nFor this night shalt thou dien for my sake.\r\n\r\nI trow* that to a norice** in this case                 *believe **nurse\r\nIt had been hard this ruthe* for to see:                  *pitiful sight\r\nWell might a mother then have cried, \u201cAlas!\u201d\r\nBut natheless so sad steadfast was she,\r\nThat she endured all adversity,\r\nAnd to the sergeant meekely she said,\r\n\u201cHave here again your little younge maid.\r\n\r\n\u201cGo now,\u201d quoth she, \u201cand do my lord\u2019s behest.\r\nAnd one thing would I pray you of your grace,\r\n*But if* my lord forbade you at the least,                      *unless*\r\nBury this little body in some place,\r\nThat neither beasts nor birdes it arace.\u201d*                    *tear <10>\r\nBut he no word would to that purpose say,\r\nBut took the child and went upon his way.\r\n\r\nThe sergeant came unto his lord again,\r\nAnd of Griselda\u2019s words and of her cheer*                     *demeanour\r\nHe told him point for point, in short and plain,\r\nAnd him presented with his daughter dear.\r\nSomewhat this lord had ruth in his mannere,\r\nBut natheless his purpose held he still,\r\nAs lordes do, when they will have their will;\r\n\r\nAnd bade this sergeant that he privily\r\nShoulde the child full softly wind and wrap,\r\nWith alle circumstances tenderly,\r\nAnd carry it in a coffer, or in lap;\r\nBut, upon pain his head off for to swap,*                        *strike\r\nThat no man shoulde know of his intent,\r\nNor whence he came, nor whither that he went;\r\n\r\nBut at Bologna, to his sister dear,\r\nThat at that time of Panic\u2019* was Countess,                       *Panico\r\nHe should it take, and shew her this mattere,\r\nBeseeching her to do her business\r\nThis child to foster in all gentleness,\r\nAnd whose child it was he bade her hide\r\nFrom every wight, for aught that might betide.\r\n\r\nThe sergeant went, and hath fulfill\u2019d this thing.\r\nBut to the marquis now returne we;\r\nFor now went he full fast imagining\r\nIf by his wife\u2019s cheer he mighte see,\r\nOr by her wordes apperceive, that she\r\nWere changed; but he never could her find,\r\nBut ever-in-one* alike sad** and kind.           *constantly **steadfast\r\n\r\nAs glad, as humble, as busy in service,\r\nAnd eke in love, as she was wont to be,\r\nWas she to him, in every *manner wise;*                    *sort of way*\r\nAnd of her daughter not a word spake she;\r\n*No accident for no adversity*            *no change of humour resulting\r\nWas seen in her, nor e\u2019er her daughter\u2019s name       from her affliction*\r\nShe named, or in earnest or in game.\r\n\r\n*Pars Quarta*                                              *Fourth Part*\r\n\r\nIn this estate there passed be four year\r\nEre she with childe was; but, as God wo\u2019ld,\r\nA knave* child she bare by this Waltere,                            *boy\r\nFull gracious and fair for to behold;\r\nAnd when that folk it to his father told,\r\nNot only he, but all his country, merry\r\nWere for this child, and God they thank and hery.*               *praise\r\n\r\nWhen it was two year old, and from the breast\r\nDeparted* of the norice, on a day                         *taken, weaned\r\nThis marquis *caughte yet another lest*               *was seized by yet\r\nTo tempt his wife yet farther, if he may.                another desire*\r\nOh! needless was she tempted in as say;*                          *trial\r\nBut wedded men *not connen no measure,*             *know no moderation*\r\nWhen that they find a patient creature.\r\n\r\n\u201cWife,\u201d quoth the marquis, \u201cye have heard ere this\r\nMy people *sickly bear* our marriage;          *regard with displeasure*\r\nAnd namely* since my son y-boren is,                         *especially\r\nNow is it worse than ever in all our age:\r\nThe murmur slays mine heart and my corage,\r\nFor to mine ears cometh the voice so smart,*                  *painfully\r\nThat it well nigh destroyed hath mine heart.\r\n\r\n\u201cNow say they thus, \u2018When Walter is y-gone,\r\nThen shall the blood of Janicol\u2019 succeed,\r\nAnd be our lord, for other have we none:\u2019\r\nSuch wordes say my people, out of drede.*                         *doubt\r\nWell ought I of such murmur take heed,\r\nFor certainly I dread all such sentence,*         *expression of opinion\r\nThough they not *plainen in mine audience.*     *complain in my hearing*\r\n\r\n\u201cI woulde live in peace, if that I might;\r\nWherefore I am disposed utterly,\r\nAs I his sister served ere* by night,                            *before\r\nRight so think I to serve him privily.\r\nThis warn I you, that ye not suddenly\r\nOut of yourself for no woe should outraie;*     *become outrageous, rave\r\nBe patient, and thereof I you pray.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI have,\u201d quoth she, \u201csaid thus, and ever shall,\r\nI will no thing, nor n\u2019ill no thing, certain,\r\nBut as you list; not grieveth me at all\r\nThough that my daughter and my son be slain\r\nAt your commandement; that is to sayn,\r\nI have not had no part of children twain,\r\nBut first sickness, and after woe and pain.\r\n\r\n\u201cYe be my lord, do with your owen thing\r\nRight as you list, and ask no rede of me:\r\nFor, as I left at home all my clothing\r\nWhen I came first to you, right so,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cLeft I my will and all my liberty,\r\nAnd took your clothing: wherefore I you pray,\r\nDo your pleasance, I will your lust* obey.                         *will\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, certes, if I hadde prescience\r\nYour will to know, ere ye your lust* me told,                      *will\r\nI would it do withoute negligence:\r\nBut, now I know your lust, and what ye wo\u2019ld,\r\nAll your pleasance firm and stable I hold;\r\nFor, wist I that my death might do you ease,\r\nRight gladly would I dien you to please.\r\n\r\n\u201cDeath may not make no comparisoun\r\nUnto your love.\u201d And when this marquis say*                         *saw\r\nThe constance of his wife,  he cast adown\r\nHis eyen two, and wonder\u2019d how she may\r\nIn patience suffer all this array;\r\nAnd forth he went with dreary countenance;\r\nBut to his heart it was full great pleasance.\r\n\r\nThis ugly sergeant, in the same wise\r\nThat he her daughter caught, right so hath he\r\n(Or worse, if men can any worse devise,)\r\nY-hent* her son, that full was of beauty:                        *seized\r\nAnd ever-in-one* so patient was she,                        *unvaryingly\r\nThat she no cheere made of heaviness,\r\nBut kiss\u2019d her son, and after gan him bless.\r\n\r\nSave this she prayed him, if that he might,\r\nHer little son he would in earthe grave,*                          *bury\r\nHis tender limbes, delicate to sight,\r\nFrom fowles and from beastes for to save.\r\nBut she none answer of him mighte have;\r\nHe went his way, as him nothing ne raught,*                       *cared\r\nBut to Bologna tenderly it brought.\r\n\r\nThe marquis wonder\u2019d ever longer more\r\nUpon her patience; and, if that he\r\nNot hadde soothly knowen therebefore\r\nThat perfectly her children loved she,\r\nHe would have ween\u2019d* that of some subtilty,                    *thought\r\nAnd of malice, or for cruel corage,*                        *disposition\r\nShe hadde suffer\u2019d this with sad* visage.            *steadfast, unmoved\r\n\r\nBut well he knew, that, next himself, certain\r\nShe lov\u2019d her children best in every wise.\r\nBut now of women would I aske fain,\r\nIf these assayes mighte not suffice?\r\nWhat could a sturdy* husband more devise                          *stern\r\nTo prove her wifehood and her steadfastness,\r\nAnd he continuing ev\u2019r in sturdiness?\r\n\r\nBut there be folk of such condition,\r\nThat, when they have a certain purpose take,\r\nThiey cannot stint* of their intention,                           *cease\r\nBut, right as they were bound unto a stake,\r\nThey will not of their firste purpose slake:*            *slacken, abate\r\nRight so this marquis fully hath purpos\u2019d\r\nTo tempt his wife, as he was first dispos\u2019d.\r\n\r\nHe waited, if by word or countenance\r\nThat she to him was changed of corage:*                          *spirit\r\nBut never could he finde variance,\r\nShe was aye one in heart and in visage,\r\nAnd aye the farther that she was in age,\r\nThe more true (if that it were possible)\r\nShe was to him in love, and more penible.*      *painstaking in devotion\r\n\r\nFor which it seemed thus, that of them two\r\nThere was but one will; for, as Walter lest,*                   *pleased\r\nThe same pleasance was her lust* also;                         *pleasure\r\nAnd, God be thanked, all fell for the best.\r\nShe shewed well, for no worldly unrest,\r\nA wife as of herself no thinge should\r\nWill, in effect, but as her husbaud would.\r\n\r\nThe sland\u2019r of Walter wondrous wide sprad,\r\nThat of a cruel heart he wickedly,\r\nFor* he a poore woman wedded had,                               *because\r\nHad murder\u2019d both his children privily:\r\nSuch murmur was among them commonly.\r\nNo wonder is: for to the people\u2019s ear\r\nThere came no word, but that they murder\u2019d were.\r\n\r\nFor which, whereas his people therebefore\r\nHad lov\u2019d him well, the sland\u2019r of his diffame*                  *infamy\r\nMade them that they him hated therefore.\r\nTo be a murd\u2019rer is a hateful name.\r\nBut natheless, for earnest or for game,\r\nHe of his cruel purpose would not stent;\r\nTo tempt his wife was set all his intent.\r\n\r\nWhen that his daughter twelve year was of age,\r\nHe to the Court of Rome, in subtle wise\r\nInformed of his will, sent his message,*                      *messenger\r\nCommanding him such bulles to devise\r\nAs to his cruel purpose may suffice,\r\nHow that the Pope, for his people\u2019s rest,\r\nBade him to wed another, if him lest.*                           *wished\r\n\r\nI say he bade they shoulde counterfeit\r\nThe Pope\u2019s bulles, making mention\r\nThat he had leave his firste wife to lete,*                       *leave\r\nTo stinte* rancour and dissension                         *put an end to\r\nBetwixt his people and him: thus spake the bull,\r\nThe which they have published at full.\r\n\r\nThe rude people, as no wonder is,\r\nWeened* full well that it had been right so:          *thought, believed\r\nBut, when these tidings came to Griseldis.\r\nI deeme that her heart was full of woe;\r\nBut she, alike sad* for evermo\u2019,                              *steadfast\r\nDisposed was, this humble creature,\r\nTh\u2019 adversity of fortune all t\u2019 endure;\r\n\r\nAbiding ever his lust and his pleasance,\r\nTo whom that she was given, heart and all,\r\nAs *to her very worldly suffisance.*               *to the utmost extent\r\nBut, shortly if this story tell I shall,                   of her power*\r\nThe marquis written hath in special\r\nA letter, in which he shewed his intent,\r\nAnd secretly it to Bologna sent.\r\n\r\nTo th\u2019 earl of Panico, which hadde tho*                           *there\r\nWedded his sister, pray\u2019d he specially\r\nTo bringe home again his children two\r\nIn honourable estate all openly:\r\nBut one thing he him prayed utterly,\r\nThat he to no wight, though men would inquere,\r\nShoulde not tell whose children that they were,\r\n\r\nBut say, the maiden should y-wedded be\r\nUnto the marquis of Saluce anon.\r\nAnd as this earl was prayed, so did he,\r\nFor, at day set, he on his way is gone\r\nToward Saluce, and lorde\u2019s many a one\r\nIn rich array, this maiden for to guide, \u2014\r\nHer younge brother riding her beside.\r\n\r\nArrayed was toward* her marriage                              *as if for\r\nThis freshe maiden, full of gemmes clear;\r\nHer brother, which that seven year was of age,\r\nArrayed eke full fresh in his mannere:\r\nAnd thus, in great nobless, and with glad cheer,\r\nToward Saluces shaping their journey,\r\nFrom day to day they rode upon their way.\r\n\r\n*Pars Quinta.*                                              *Fifth Part*\r\n\r\n*Among all this,* after his wick\u2019 usage,             *while all this was\r\nThe marquis, yet his wife to tempte more                       going on*\r\nTo the uttermost proof of her corage,\r\nFully to have experience and lore*                            *knowledge\r\nIf that she were as steadfast as before,\r\nHe on a day, in open audience,\r\nFull boisterously said her this sentence:\r\n\r\n\u201cCertes, Griseld\u2019, I had enough pleasance\r\nTo have you to my wife, for your goodness,\r\nAnd for your truth, and for your obeisance,\r\nNot for your lineage, nor for your richess;\r\nBut now know I, in very soothfastness,\r\nThat in great lordship, if I well advise,\r\nThere is great servitude in sundry wise.\r\n\r\n\u201cI may not do as every ploughman may:\r\nMy people me constraineth for to take\r\nAnother wife, and cryeth day by day;\r\nAnd eke the Pope, rancour for to slake,\r\nConsenteth it, that dare I undertake:\r\nAnd truely, thus much I will you say,\r\nMy newe wife is coming by the way.\r\n\r\n\u201cBe strong of heart, and *void anon* her place;     *immediately vacate*\r\nAnd thilke* dower that ye brought to me,                           *that\r\nTake it again, I grant it of my grace.\r\nReturne to your father\u2019s house,\u201d quoth he;\r\n\u201cNo man may always have prosperity;\r\nWith even heart I rede* you to endure                           *counsel\r\nThe stroke of fortune or of aventure.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd she again answer\u2019d in patience:\r\n\u201cMy Lord,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI know, and knew alway,\r\nHow that betwixte your magnificence\r\nAnd my povert\u2019 no wight nor can nor may\r\nMake comparison, it *is no nay;*                      *cannot be denied*\r\nI held me never digne* in no mannere                             *worthy\r\nTo be your wife, nor yet your chamberere.*                 *chamber-maid\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd in this house, where ye me lady made,\r\n(The highe God take I for my witness,\r\nAnd all so wisly* he my soule glade),**              *surely **gladdened\r\nI never held me lady nor mistress,\r\nBut humble servant to your worthiness,\r\nAnd ever shall, while that my life may dure,\r\nAboven every worldly creature.\r\n\r\n\u201cThat ye so long, of your benignity,\r\nHave holden me in honour and nobley,*                          *nobility\r\nWhere as I was not worthy for to be,\r\nThat thank I God and you, to whom I pray\r\nForyield* it you; there is no more to say:                       *reward\r\nUnto my father gladly will I wend,*                                  *go\r\nAnd with him dwell, unto my lifes end,\r\n\r\n\u201cWhere I was foster\u2019d as a child full small,\r\nTill I be dead my life there will I lead,\r\nA widow clean in body, heart, and all.\r\nFor since I gave to you my maidenhead,\r\nAnd am your true wife, it is no dread,*                           *doubt\r\nGod shielde* such a lordes wife to take                          *forbid\r\nAnother man to husband or to make.*                                *mate\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd of your newe wife, God of his grace\r\nSo grant you weal and all prosperity:\r\nFor I will gladly yield to her my place,\r\nIn which that I was blissful wont to be.\r\nFor since it liketh you, my Lord,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cThat whilom weren all mine hearte\u2019s rest,\r\nThat I shall go, I will go when you lest.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut whereas ye me proffer such dowaire\r\nAs I first brought, it is well in my mind,\r\nIt was my wretched clothes, nothing fair,\r\nThe which to me were hard now for to find.\r\nO goode God! how gentle and how kind\r\nYe seemed by your speech and your visage,\r\nThe day that maked was our marriage!\r\n\r\n\u201cBut sooth is said, \u2014 algate* I find it true,            *at all events\r\nFor in effect it proved is on me, \u2014\r\nLove is not old as when that it is new.\r\nBut certes, Lord, for no adversity,\r\nTo dien in this case, it shall not be\r\nThat e\u2019er in word or work I shall repent\r\nThat I you gave mine heart in whole intent.\r\n\r\n\u201cMy Lord, ye know that in my father\u2019s place\r\nYe did me strip out of my poore weed,*                          *raiment\r\nAnd richely ye clad me of your grace;\r\nTo you brought I nought elles, out of dread,\r\nBut faith, and nakedness, and maidenhead;\r\nAnd here again your clothing I restore,\r\nAnd eke your wedding ring for evermore.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe remnant of your jewels ready be\r\nWithin your chamber, I dare safely sayn:\r\nNaked out of my father\u2019s house,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cI came, and naked I must turn again.\r\nAll your pleasance would I follow fain:*                     *cheerfully\r\nBut yet I hope it be not your intent\r\nThat smockless* I out of your palace went.                        *naked\r\n\r\n\u201cYe could not do so dishonest* a thing,                   *dishonourable\r\nThat thilke* womb, in which your children lay,                     *that\r\nShoulde before the people, in my walking,\r\nBe seen all bare: and therefore I you pray,\r\nLet me not like a worm go by the way:\r\nRemember you, mine owen Lord so dear,\r\nI was your wife, though I unworthy were.\r\n\r\n\u201cWherefore, in guerdon* of my maidenhead,                        *reward\r\nWhich that I brought and not again I bear,\r\nAs vouchesafe to give me to my meed*                             *reward\r\nBut such a smock as I was wont to wear,\r\nThat I therewith may wrie* the womb of her                        *cover\r\nThat was your wife: and here I take my leave\r\nOf you, mine owen Lord, lest I you grieve.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThe smock,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthat thou hast on thy back,\r\nLet it be still, and bear it forth with thee.\u201d\r\nBut well unnethes* thilke word he spake,                *with difficulty\r\nBut went his way for ruth and for pity.\r\nBefore the folk herselfe stripped she,\r\nAnd in her smock, with foot and head all bare,\r\nToward her father\u2019s house forth is she fare.*                      *gone\r\n\r\nThe folk her follow\u2019d weeping on her way,\r\nAnd fortune aye they cursed as they gon:*                            *go\r\nBut she from weeping kept her eyen drey,*                           *dry\r\nNor in this time worde spake she none.\r\nHer father, that this tiding heard anon,\r\nCursed the day and time, that nature\r\nShope* him to be a living creature.                    *formed, ordained\r\n\r\nFor, out of doubt, this olde poore man\r\nWas ever in suspect of her marriage:\r\nFor ever deem\u2019d he, since it first began,\r\nThat when the lord *fulfill\u2019d had his corage,*  *had gratified his whim*\r\nHe woulde think it were a disparage*                      *disparagement\r\nTo his estate, so low for to alight,\r\nAnd voide* her as soon as e\u2019er he might.                        *dismiss\r\n\r\nAgainst* his daughter hastily went he                           *to meet\r\n(For he by noise of folk knew her coming),\r\nAnd with her olde coat, as it might be,\r\nHe cover\u2019d her, full sorrowfully weeping:\r\nBut on her body might he it not bring,\r\nFor rude was the cloth, and more of age\r\nBy dayes fele* than at her marriage.                          *many <11>\r\n\r\nThus with her father for a certain space\r\nDwelled this flow\u2019r of wifely patience,\r\nThat neither by her words nor by her face,\r\nBefore the folk nor eke in their absence,\r\nNe shewed she that her was done offence,\r\nNor of her high estate no remembrance\r\nNe hadde she, *as by* her countenance.                   *to judge from*\r\n\r\nNo wonder is, for in her great estate\r\nHer ghost* was ever in plein** humility;                  *spirit **full\r\nNo tender mouth, no hearte delicate,\r\nNo pomp, and no semblant of royalty;\r\nBut full of patient benignity,\r\nDiscreet and prideless, aye honourable,\r\nAnd to her husband ever meek and stable.\r\n\r\nMen speak of Job, and most for his humbless,\r\nAs clerkes, when them list, can well indite,\r\nNamely* of men; but, as in soothfastness,                  *particularly\r\nThough clerkes praise women but a lite,*                         *little\r\nThere can no man in humbless him acquite\r\nAs women can, nor can be half so true\r\nAs women be, *but it be fall of new.*              *unless it has lately\r\n                                                           come to pass*\r\n\r\n*Pars Sexta*                                                *Sixth Part*\r\n\r\nFrom Bologn\u2019 is the earl of Panic\u2019 come,\r\nOf which the fame up sprang to more and less;\r\nAnd to the people\u2019s eares all and some\r\nWas know\u2019n eke, that a newe marchioness\r\nHe with him brought, in such pomp and richess\r\nThat never was there seen with manne\u2019s eye\r\nSo noble array in all West Lombardy.\r\n\r\nThe marquis, which that shope* and knew all this,              *arranged\r\nEre that the earl was come, sent his message*                 *messenger\r\nFor thilke poore sely* Griseldis;                              *innocent\r\nAnd she, with humble heart and glad visage,\r\nNor with no swelling thought in her corage,*                       *mind\r\nCame at his hest,* and on her knees her set,                    *command\r\nAnd rev\u2019rently and wisely she him gret.*                        *greeted\r\n\r\n\u201cGriseld\u2019,\u201d quoth he, \u201cmy will is utterly,\r\nThis maiden, that shall wedded be to me,\r\nReceived be to-morrow as royally\r\nAs it possible is in my house to be;\r\nAnd eke that every wight in his degree\r\nHave *his estate* in sitting and service,               *what befits his\r\nAnd in high pleasance, as I can devise.                       condition*\r\n\r\n\u201cI have no women sufficient, certain,\r\nThe chambers to array in ordinance\r\nAfter my lust;* and therefore would I fain                     *pleasure\r\nThat thine were all such manner governance:\r\nThou knowest eke of old all my pleasance;\r\nThough thine array be bad, and ill besey,*              *poor to look on\r\n*Do thou thy devoir at the leaste  way.\u201d*          * do your duty in the\r\n                                                        quickest manner*\r\n\u201cNot only, Lord, that I am glad,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cTo do your lust, but I desire also\r\nYou for to serve and please in my degree,\r\nWithoute fainting, and shall evermo\u2019:\r\nNor ever for no weal, nor for no woe,\r\nNe shall the ghost* within mine hearte stent**           *spirit **cease\r\nTo love you best with all my true intent.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word she gan the house to dight,*                 *arrange\r\nAnd tables for to set, and beds to make,\r\nAnd *pained her* to do all that she might,              *she took pains*\r\nPraying the chambereres* for Godde\u2019s sake                 *chamber-maids\r\nTo hasten them, and faste sweep and shake,\r\nAnd she the most serviceable of all\r\nHath ev\u2019ry chamber arrayed, and his hall.\r\n\r\nAboute undern* gan the earl alight,                       *afternoon <5>\r\nThat with him brought these noble children tway;\r\nFor which the people ran to see the sight\r\nOf their array, so *richely besey;*                     *rich to behold*\r\nAnd then *at erst* amonges them they say,           *for the first time*\r\nThat Walter was no fool, though that him lest*                  *pleased\r\nTo change his wife; for it was for the best.\r\n\r\nFor she is fairer, as they deemen* all,                           *think\r\nThan is Griseld\u2019, and more tender of age,\r\nAnd fairer fruit between them shoulde fall,\r\nAnd more pleasant, for her high lineage:\r\nHer brother eke so fair was of visage,\r\nThat them to see the people hath caught pleasance,\r\nCommending now the marquis\u2019 governance.\r\n\r\n\u201cO stormy people, unsad* and ev\u2019r untrue,                      *variable\r\nAnd undiscreet, and changing as a vane,\r\nDelighting ev\u2019r in rumour that is new,\r\nFor like the moon so waxe ye and wane:\r\nAye full of clapping, *dear enough a jane,*         *worth nothing <12>*\r\nYour doom* is false, your constance evil preveth,**  *judgment **proveth\r\nA full great fool is he that you believeth.\u201d\r\n\r\nThus saide the sad* folk in that city,                           *sedate\r\nWhen that the people gazed up and down;\r\nFor they were glad, right for the novelty,\r\nTo have a newe lady of their town.\r\nNo more of this now make I mentioun,\r\nBut to Griseld\u2019 again I will me dress,\r\nAnd tell her constancy and business.\r\n\r\nFull busy was Griseld\u2019 in ev\u2019ry thing\r\nThat to the feaste was appertinent;\r\nRight nought was she abash\u2019d* of her clothing,                  *ashamed\r\nThough it were rude, and somedeal eke to-rent;*                *tattered\r\nBut with glad cheer* unto the gate she went                  *expression\r\nWith other folk, to greet the marchioness,\r\nAnd after that did forth her business.\r\n\r\nWith so glad cheer* his guestes she receiv\u2019d                 *expression\r\nAnd so conningly* each in his degree,               *cleverly, skilfully\r\nThat no defaulte no man apperceiv\u2019d,\r\nBut aye they wonder\u2019d what she mighte be\r\nThat in so poor array was for to see,\r\nAnd coude* such honour and reverence;                  *knew, understood\r\nAnd worthily they praise her prudence.\r\n\r\nIn all this meane while she not stent*                           *ceased\r\nThis maid, and eke her brother, to commend\r\nWith all her heart in full benign intent,\r\nSo well, that no man could her praise amend:\r\nBut at the last, when that these lordes wend*                        *go\r\nTo sitte down to meat, he gan to call\r\nGriseld\u2019, as she was busy in the hall.\r\n\r\n\u201cGriseld\u2019,\u201d quoth he, as it were in his play,\r\n\u201cHow liketh thee my wife, and her beauty?\u201d\r\n\u201cRight well, my Lord,\u201d quoth she, \u201cfor, in good fay,*             *faith\r\nA fairer saw I never none than she:\r\nI pray to God give you prosperity;\r\nAnd so I hope, that he will to you send\r\nPleasance enough unto your lives end.\r\n\r\n\u201cOne thing beseech I you, and warn also,\r\nThat ye not pricke with no tormenting\r\nThis tender maiden, as ye have done mo:*                        *me <13>\r\nFor she is foster\u2019d in her nourishing\r\nMore tenderly, and, to my supposing,\r\nShe mighte not adversity endure\r\nAs could a poore foster\u2019d creature.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd when this Walter saw her patience,\r\nHer gladde cheer, and no malice at all,\r\nAnd* he so often had her done offence,                         *although\r\nAnd she aye sad* and constant as a wall,                      *steadfast\r\nContinuing ev\u2019r her innocence o\u2019er all,\r\nThe sturdy marquis gan his hearte dress*                        *prepare\r\nTo rue upon her wifely steadfastness.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis is enough, Griselda mine,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cBe now no more *aghast, nor evil paid,*        *afraid, nor displeased*\r\nI have thy faith and thy benignity\r\nAs well as ever woman was, assay\u2019d,\r\nIn great estate and poorely array\u2019d:\r\nNow know I, deare wife, thy steadfastness;\u201d\r\nAnd her in arms he took, and gan to kiss.\r\n\r\nAnd she for wonder took of it no keep;*                          *notice\r\nShe hearde not what thing he to her said:\r\nShe far\u2019d as she had start out of a sleep,\r\nTill she out of her mazedness abraid.*                            *awoke\r\n\u201cGriseld\u2019,\u201d quoth he, \u201cby God that for us died,\r\nThou art my wife, none other I have,\r\nNor ever had, as God my soule save.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis is thy daughter, which thou hast suppos\u2019d\r\nTo be my wife; that other faithfully\r\nShall be mine heir, as I have aye dispos\u2019d;\r\nThou bare them of thy body truely:\r\nAt Bologna kept I them privily:\r\nTake them again, for now may\u2019st thou not say\r\nThat thou hast lorn* none of thy children tway.                    *lost\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd folk, that otherwise have said of me,\r\nI warn them well, that I have done this deed\r\nFor no malice, nor for no cruelty,\r\nBut to assay in thee thy womanhead:\r\nAnd not to slay my children (God forbid),\r\nBut for to keep them privily and still,\r\nTill I thy purpose knew, and all thy will.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen she this heard, in swoon adown she falleth\r\nFor piteous joy; and after her swooning,\r\nShe both her younge children to her calleth,\r\nAnd in her armes piteously weeping\r\nEmbraced them, and tenderly kissing,\r\nFull like a mother, with her salte tears\r\nShe bathed both their visage and their hairs.\r\n\r\nO, what a piteous thing it was to see\r\nHer swooning, and her humble voice to hear!\r\n\u201cGrand mercy, Lord, God thank it you,\u201d quoth she,\r\nThat ye have saved me my children dear;\r\nNow reck* I never to be dead right here;                           *care\r\nSince I stand in your love, and in your grace,\r\nNo *force of* death, nor when my spirit pace.*     *no matter for* *pass\r\n\r\n\u201cO tender, O dear, O young children mine,\r\nYour woeful mother *weened steadfastly*                *believed firmly*\r\nThat cruel houndes, or some foul vermine,\r\nHad eaten you; but God of his mercy,\r\nAnd your benigne father tenderly\r\nHave *done you keep:\u201d* and in that same stound*           *caused you to\r\nAll suddenly she swapt** down to the ground.               be preserved*\r\n                                                            *hour **fell\r\nAnd in her swoon so sadly* holdeth she                           *firmly\r\nHer children two, when she gan them embrace,\r\nThat with great sleight* and great difficulty                       *art\r\nThe children from her arm they can arace,*                    *pull away\r\nO! many a tear on many a piteous face\r\nDown ran of them that stoode her beside,\r\nUnneth\u2019* aboute her might they abide.                          *scarcely\r\n\r\nWalter her gladdeth, and her sorrow slaketh:*                  *assuages\r\nShe riseth up abashed* from her trance,                      *astonished\r\nAnd every wight her joy and feaste maketh,\r\nTill she hath caught again her countenance.\r\nWalter her doth so faithfully pleasance,\r\nThat it was dainty for to see the cheer\r\nBetwixt them two, since they be met in fere.*                  *together\r\n\r\nThe ladies, when that they their time sey,*                         *saw\r\nHave taken her, and into chamber gone,\r\nAnd stripped her out of her rude array,\r\nAnd in a cloth of gold that brightly shone,\r\nAnd with a crown of many a riche stone\r\nUpon her head, they into hall her brought:\r\nAnd there she was honoured as her ought.\r\n\r\nThus had this piteous day a blissful end;\r\nFor every man and woman did his might\r\nThis day in mirth and revel to dispend,\r\nTill on the welkin* shone the starres bright:                 *firmament\r\nFor more solemn in every mannes sight\r\nThis feaste was, and greater of costage,*                       *expense\r\nThan was the revel of her marriage.\r\n\r\nFull many a year in high prosperity\r\nLived these two in concord and in rest;\r\nAnd richely his daughter married he\r\nUnto a lord, one of the worthiest\r\nOf all Itale; and then in peace and rest\r\nHis wife\u2019s father in his court he kept,\r\nTill that the soul out of his body crept.\r\n\r\nHis son succeeded in his heritage,\r\nIn rest and peace, after his father\u2019s day:\r\nAnd fortunate was eke in marriage,\r\nAll* he put not his wife in great assay:                       *although\r\nThis world is not so strong, it *is no nay,*          *not to be denied*\r\nAs it hath been in olde times yore;\r\nAnd hearken what this author saith, therefore;\r\n\r\nThis story is said, <14> not for that wives should\r\nFollow Griselda in humility,\r\nFor it were importable* though they would;              *not to be borne\r\nBut for that every wight in his degree\r\nShoulde be constant in adversity,\r\nAs was Griselda; therefore Petrarch writeth\r\nThis story, which with high style he inditeth.\r\n\r\nFor, since a woman was so patient\r\nUnto a mortal man, well more we ought\r\nReceiven all in gree* that God us sent.                        good-will\r\n*For great skill is he proved that he wrought:*          *see note <15>*\r\nBut he tempteth no man that he hath bought,\r\nAs saith Saint James, if ye his \u2019pistle read;\r\nHe proveth folk all day, it is no dread.*                         *doubt\r\n\r\nAnd suffereth us, for our exercise,\r\nWith sharpe scourges of adversity\r\nFull often to be beat in sundry wise;\r\nNot for to know our will, for certes he,\r\nEre we were born, knew all our frailty;\r\nAnd for our best is all his governance;\r\nLet us then live in virtuous sufferance.\r\n\r\nBut one word, lordings, hearken, ere I go:\r\nIt were full hard to finde now-a-days\r\nIn all a town Griseldas three or two:\r\nFor, if that they were put to such assays,\r\nThe gold of them hath now so bad allays*                         *alloys\r\nWith brass, that though the coin be fair *at eye,*              *to see*\r\nIt woulde rather break in two than ply.*                           *bend\r\n\r\nFor which here, for the Wife\u2019s love of Bath, \u2014\r\nWhose life and all her sex may God maintain\r\nIn high mast\u2019ry, and elles were it scath,* \u2014              *damage, pity\r\nI will, with lusty hearte fresh and green,\r\nSay you a song to gladden you, I ween:\r\nAnd let us stint of earnestful mattere.\r\nHearken my song, that saith in this mannere.\r\n\r\nL\u2019Envoy of Chaucer.\r\n\r\n\u201cGriseld\u2019 is dead, and eke her patience,\r\nAnd both at once are buried in Itale:\r\nFor which I cry in open audience,\r\nNo wedded man so hardy be t\u2019 assail\r\nHis wife\u2019s patience, in trust to find\r\nGriselda\u2019s, for in certain he shall fail.\r\n\r\n\u201cO noble wives, full of high prudence,\r\nLet no humility your tongues nail:\r\nNor let no clerk have cause or diligence\r\nTo write of you a story of such marvail,\r\nAs of Griselda patient and kind,\r\nLest Chichevache<16> you swallow in her entrail.\r\n\r\n\u201cFollow Echo, that holdeth no silence,\r\nBut ever answereth at the countertail;*              *counter-tally <17>\r\nBe not bedaffed* for your innocence,                           *befooled\r\nBut sharply take on you the governail;*                            *helm\r\nImprinte well this lesson in your mind,\r\nFor common profit, since it may avail.\r\n\r\n\u201cYe archiwives,* stand aye at defence,                    *wives of rank\r\nSince ye be strong as is a great camail,*                         *camel\r\nNor suffer not that men do you offence.\r\nAnd slender wives, feeble in battail,\r\nBe eager as a tiger yond in Ind;\r\nAye clapping as a mill, I you counsail.\r\n\r\n\u201cNor dread them not, nor do them reverence;\r\nFor though thine husband armed be in mail,\r\nThe arrows of thy crabbed eloquence\r\nShall pierce his breast, and eke his aventail;<18>\r\nIn jealousy I rede* eke thou him bind,                           *advise\r\nAnd thou shalt make him couch* as doth a quail.          *submit, shrink\r\n\r\n\u201cIf thou be fair, where folk be in presence\r\nShew thou thy visage and thine apparail:\r\nIf thou be foul, be free of thy dispence;\r\nTo get thee friendes aye do thy travail:\r\nBe aye of cheer as light as leaf on lind,*            *linden, lime-tree\r\nAnd let him care, and weep, and wring, and wail.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Clerk\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Petrarch, in his Latin romance, \u201cDe obedientia et fide uxoria\r\nMythologia,\u201d (Of obedient and faithful wives in Mythology)\r\ntranslated the charming story of \u201cthe patient Grizel\u201d from the\r\nItalian of Bocaccio\u2019s \u201cDecameron;\u201d and Chaucer has closely\r\nfollowed Petrarch\u2019s translation, made in 1373, the year before\r\nthat in which he died.  The fact that the embassy to Genoa, on\r\nwhich Chaucer was sent, took place in 1372-73, has lent\r\ncountenance to the opinion that the English poet did actually\r\nvisit the Italian bard at Padua, and hear the story from his own\r\nlips.  This, however, is only a probability; for it is a moot point\r\nwhether the two poets ever met.\r\n\r\n2. Vesulus:  Monte Viso, a lofty peak at the junction of the\r\nMaritime and Cottian Alps; from two springs on its east side\r\nrises the Po.\r\n\r\n3. Buxomly: obediently; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cbogsom,\u201d old English,\r\n\u201cboughsome,\u201d that can be easily bent or bowed; German,\r\n\u201cbiegsam,\u201d pliant, obedient.\r\n\r\n4. Well ofter of the well than of the tun she drank: she drank\r\nwater much more often than wine.\r\n\r\n5. Undern: afternoon, evening, though by some \u201cundern\u201d\r\nis understood as dinner-time \u2014 9 a. m. See note 4 to the Wife of\r\nBath\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n6. Very: true; French \u201cvrai\u201d.\r\n\r\n7. Nouches: Ornaments of some kind not precisely known;\r\nsome editions read \u201couches,\u201d studs, brooches. (Transcriber\u2019s\r\nnote: The OED gives \u201cnouches\u201d as a form of \u201couches,\u201d\r\nbuckles)\r\n\r\n8. A furlong way or two: a short time; literally, as long as it\r\ntakes to walk one or two furlongs (a furlong is 220 yards)\r\n\r\n9. Lordes\u2019 hestes may not be y-feign\u2019d: it will not do merely to\r\nfeign compliance with a lord\u2019s commands.\r\n\r\n10. Arace: tear; French, \u201carracher.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Fele: many; German, \u201cviel.\u201d\r\n\r\n12. Dear enough a jane: worth nothing.  A jane was a small coin\r\nof little worth, so the meaning is \u201cnot worth a red cent\u201d.\r\n\r\n13. Mo: me.  \u201cThis is one of the most licentious corruptions of\r\northography,\u201d says Tyrwhitt, \u201cthat I remember to have observed\r\nin Chaucer;\u201d but such liberties were common among the\r\nEuropean poets of his time,  when there was an extreme lack of\r\ncertainty in orthography.\r\n\r\n14. The fourteen lines that follow are translated almost literally\r\nfrom Petrarch\u2019s Latin.\r\n\r\n15. For great skill is he proved that he wrought: for it is most\r\nreasonable that He should prove or test that which he made.\r\n\r\n16. Chichevache, in old popular fable, was a monster that fed\r\nonly on good women, and was always very thin from scarcity of\r\nsuch food; a corresponding monster, Bycorne, fed only on\r\nobedient and kind husbands, and was always fat. The origin of\r\nthe fable was French; but Lydgate has a ballad on the subject.\r\n\u201cChichevache\u201d literally means \u201cniggardly\u201d or \u201cgreedy cow.\u201d\r\n\r\n17. Countertail: Counter-tally or counter-foil; something exactly\r\ncorresponding.\r\n\r\n18. Aventail: forepart of a helmet, vizor.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE MERCHANT\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.<l>\r\n\r\n\u201cWeeping and wailing, care and other sorrow,\r\nI have enough, on even and on morrow,\u201d\r\nQuoth the Merchant, \u201cand so have other mo\u2019,\r\nThat wedded be; I trow* that it be so;                          *believe\r\nFor well I wot it fareth so by me.\r\nI have a wife, the worste that may be,\r\nFor though the fiend to her y-coupled were,\r\nShe would him overmatch, I dare well swear.\r\nWhy should I you rehearse in special\r\nHer high malice? she is *a shrew at all.*                *thoroughly, in\r\nThere is a long and large difference                  everything wicked*\r\nBetwixt Griselda\u2019s greate patience,\r\nAnd of my wife the passing cruelty.\r\nWere I unbounden, all so may I the,*                             *thrive\r\nI woulde never eft* come in the snare.                            *again\r\nWe wedded men live in sorrow and care;\r\nAssay it whoso will, and he shall find\r\nThat I say sooth, by Saint Thomas of Ind,<2>\r\nAs for the more part; I say not all, \u2014\r\nGod shielde* that it shoulde so befall.                          *forbid\r\nAh! good Sir Host, I have y-wedded be\r\nThese moneths two, and more not, pardie;\r\nAnd yet I trow* that he that all his life                       *believe\r\nWifeless hath been, though that men would him rive*               *wound\r\nInto the hearte, could in no mannere\r\nTelle so much sorrow, as I you here\r\nCould tellen of my wife\u2019s cursedness.\u201d*                      *wickedness\r\n\r\n\u201cNow,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201cMerchant, so God you bless,\r\nSince ye so muche knowen of that art,\r\nFull heartily I pray you tell us part.\u201d\r\n\u201cGladly,\u201d quoth he; \u201cbut of mine owen sore,\r\nFor sorry heart, I telle may no more.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Merchant\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1.  Though the manner in which the Merchant takes up the\r\nclosing words of the Envoy to the Clerk\u2019s Tale, and refers to\r\nthe patience of Griselda, seems to prove beyond doubt that\r\nthe order of the Tales in the text is the right one, yet in\r\nsome manuscripts of good authority the Franklin\u2019s Tale\r\nfollows the Clerk\u2019s, and the Envoy is concluded by this\r\nstanza: \u2014\r\n\u201cThis worthy Clerk when ended was his tale,\r\nOur Hoste said, and swore by cocke\u2019s bones\r\n\u2018Me lever were than a barrel of ale\r\nMy wife at home had heard this legend once;\r\nThis is a gentle tale for the nonce;\r\nAs, to my purpose, wiste ye my will.\r\nBut thing that will not be, let it be still.\u2019\u201d\r\n\r\nIn other manuscripts of less authority the Host proceeds, in\r\ntwo similar stanzas, to impose a Tale on the Franklin; but\r\nTyrwhitt is probably right in setting them aside as spurious,\r\nand in admitting the genuineness of the first only, if it be\r\nsupposed that Chaucer forgot to cancel it when he had\r\ndecided on another mode of connecting the Merchant\u2019s with\r\nthe Clerk\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n2. Saint Thomas of Ind: St. Thomas the Apostle, who was\r\nbelieved to have travelled in India.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.<l>\r\n\r\nWhilom there was dwelling in Lombardy\r\nA worthy knight, that born was at Pavie,\r\nIn which he liv\u2019d in great prosperity;\r\nAnd forty years a wifeless man was he,\r\nAnd follow\u2019d aye his bodily delight\r\nOn women, where as was his appetite,\r\nAs do these fooles that be seculeres.<2>\r\nAnd, when that he was passed sixty years,\r\nWere it for holiness, or for dotage,\r\nI cannot say, but such a great corage*                      *inclination\r\nHadde this knight to be a wedded man,\r\nThat day and night he did all that he can\r\nTo espy where that he might wedded be;\r\nPraying our Lord to grante him, that he\r\nMighte once knowen of that blissful life\r\nThat is betwixt a husband and his wife,\r\nAnd for to live under that holy bond\r\nWith which God firste man and woman bond.\r\n\u201cNone other life,\u201d said he, \u201cis worth a bean;\r\nFor wedlock is so easy, and so clean,\r\nThat in this world it is a paradise.\u201d\r\nThus said this olde knight, that was so wise.\r\nAnd certainly, as sooth* as God is king,                           *true\r\nTo take a wife it is a glorious thing,\r\nAnd namely* when a man is old and hoar,                      *especially\r\nThen is a wife the fruit of his treasor;\r\nThen should he take a young wife and a fair,\r\nOn which he might engender him an heir,\r\nAnd lead his life in joy and in solace;*                 *mirth, delight\r\nWhereas these bachelors singen \u201cAlas!\u201d\r\nWhen that they find any adversity\r\nIn love, which is but childish vanity.\r\nAnd truely it sits* well to be so,                      *becomes, befits\r\nThat bachelors have often pain and woe:\r\nOn brittle ground they build, and brittleness\r\nThey finde when they *weene sickerness:*               *think that there\r\nThey live but as a bird or as a beast,                      is security*\r\nIn liberty, and under no arrest;*                        *check, control\r\nWhereas a wedded man in his estate\r\nLiveth a life blissful and ordinate,\r\nUnder the yoke of marriage y-bound;\r\nWell may his heart in joy and bliss abound.\r\nFor who can be so buxom* as a wife?                            *obedient\r\nWho is so true, and eke so attentive\r\nTo keep* him, sick and whole, as is his make?**         *care for **mate\r\nFor weal or woe she will him not forsake:\r\nShe is not weary him to love and serve,\r\nThough that he lie bedrid until he sterve.*                         *die\r\nAnd yet some clerkes say it is not so;\r\nOf which he, Theophrast, is one of tho:*                          *those\r\n*What force* though Theophrast list for to lie?            *what matter*\r\n\r\n\u201cTake no wife,\u201d quoth he, <3> \u201cfor husbandry,*                   *thrift\r\nAs for to spare in household thy dispence;\r\nA true servant doth more diligence\r\nThy good to keep, than doth thine owen wife,\r\nFor she will claim a half part all her life.\r\nAnd if that thou be sick, so God me save,\r\nThy very friendes, or a true knave,*                            *servant\r\nWill keep thee bet than she, that *waiteth aye          *ahways waits to\r\nAfter thy good,* and hath done many a day.\u201d       inherit your property*\r\nThis sentence, and a hundred times worse,\r\nWriteth this man, there God his bones curse.\r\nBut take no keep* of all such vanity,                            *notice\r\nDefy* Theophrast, and hearken to me.                           *distrust\r\n\r\nA wife is Godde\u2019s gifte verily;\r\nAll other manner giftes hardily,*                                 *truly\r\nAs handes, rentes, pasture, or commune,*                    *common land\r\nOr mebles,* all be giftes of fortune,                     *furniture <4>\r\nThat passen as a shadow on the wall:\r\nBut dread* thou not, if plainly speak I shall,                    *doubt\r\nA wife will last, and in thine house endure,\r\nWell longer than thee list, paraventure.*                       *perhaps\r\nMarriage is a full great sacrament;\r\nHe which that hath no wife, I hold him shent;*                   *ruined\r\nHe liveth helpless, and all desolate\r\n(I speak of folk *in secular estate*):                      *who are not\r\nAnd hearken why, I say not this for nought, \u2014            of the clergy*\r\nThat woman is for manne\u2019s help y-wrought.\r\nThe highe God, when he had Adam maked,\r\nAnd saw him all alone belly naked,\r\nGod of his greate goodness saide then,\r\nLet us now make a help unto this man\r\nLike to himself; and then he made him Eve.\r\nHere may ye see, and hereby may ye preve,*                        *prove\r\nThat a wife is man s help and his comfort,\r\nHis paradise terrestre and his disport.\r\nSo buxom* and so virtuous is she,                   *obedient, complying\r\nThey muste needes live in unity;\r\nOne flesh they be, and one blood, as I guess,\r\nWith but one heart in weal and in distress.\r\nA wife? Ah! Saint Mary, ben\u2019dicite,\r\nHow might a man have any adversity\r\nThat hath a wife? certes I cannot say\r\nThe bliss the which that is betwixt them tway,\r\nThere may no tongue it tell, or hearte think.\r\nIf he be poor, she helpeth him to swink;*                        *labour\r\nShe keeps his good, and wasteth never a deal;*                     *whit\r\nAll that her husband list, her liketh* well;                   *pleaseth\r\nShe saith not ones Nay, when he saith Yea;\r\n\u201cDo this,\u201d saith he; \u201cAll ready, Sir,\u201d saith she.\r\nO blissful order, wedlock precious!\r\nThou art so merry, and eke so virtuous,\r\nAnd so commended and approved eke,\r\nThat every man that holds him worth a leek\r\nUpon his bare knees ought all his life\r\nTo thank his God, that him hath sent a wife;\r\nOr elles pray to God him for to send\r\nA wife, to last unto his life\u2019s end.\r\nFor then his life is set in sickerness,*                       *security\r\nHe may not be deceived, as I guess,\r\nSo that he work after his wife\u2019s rede;*                         *counsel\r\nThen may he boldely bear up his head,\r\nThey be so true, and therewithal so wise.\r\nFor which, if thou wilt worken as the wise,\r\nDo alway so as women will thee rede. *                          *counsel\r\nLo how that Jacob, as these clerkes read,\r\nBy good counsel of his mother Rebecc\u2019\r\nBounde the kiddes skin about his neck;\r\nFor which his father\u2019s benison* he wan.                     *benediction\r\nLo Judith, as the story telle can,\r\nBy good counsel she Godde\u2019s people kept,\r\nAnd slew him, Holofernes, while he slept.\r\nLo Abigail, by good counsel, how she\r\nSaved her husband Nabal, when that he\r\nShould have been slain.  And lo, Esther also\r\nBy counsel good deliver\u2019d out of woe\r\nThe people of God, and made him, Mardoche,\r\nOf Assuere enhanced* for to be.                     *advanced in dignity\r\nThere is nothing *in gree superlative*                *of higher esteem*\r\n(As saith Senec) above a humble wife.\r\nSuffer thy wife\u2019s tongue, as Cato bit;*                             *bid\r\nShe shall command, and thou shalt suffer it,\r\nAnd yet she will obey of courtesy.\r\nA wife is keeper of thine husbandry:\r\nWell may the sicke man bewail and weep,\r\nThere as there is no wife the house to keep.\r\nI warne thee, if wisely thou wilt wirch,*                          *work\r\nLove well thy wife, as Christ loveth his church:\r\nThou lov\u2019st thyself, if thou lovest thy wife.\r\nNo man hateth his flesh, but in his life\r\nHe fost\u2019reth it; and therefore bid I thee\r\nCherish thy wife, or thou shalt never the.*                      *thrive\r\nHusband and wife, what *so men jape or play,*         *although men joke\r\nOf worldly folk holde the sicker* way;               and jeer*  *certain\r\nThey be so knit there may no harm betide,\r\nAnd namely* upon the wife\u2019s side.                           * especially\r\n\r\nFor which this January, of whom I told,\r\nConsider\u2019d hath within his dayes old,\r\nThe lusty life, the virtuous quiet,\r\nThat is in marriage honey-sweet.\r\nAnd for his friends upon a day he sent\r\nTo tell them the effect  of his intent.\r\nWith face sad,* his tale he hath them told:              *grave, earnest\r\nHe saide, \u201cFriendes, I am hoar and old,\r\nAnd almost (God wot) on my pitte\u2019s* brink,                      *grave\u2019s\r\nUpon my soule somewhat must I think.\r\nI have my body foolishly dispended,\r\nBlessed be God that it shall be amended;\r\nFor I will be certain a wedded man,\r\nAnd that anon in all the haste I can,\r\nUnto some maiden, fair and tender of age;\r\nI pray you shape* for my marriage                    * arrange, contrive\r\nAll suddenly, for I will not abide:\r\nAnd I will fond* to espy, on my side,                               *try\r\nTo whom I may be wedded hastily.\r\nBut forasmuch as ye be more than,\r\nYe shalle rather* such a thing espy\r\nThan I, and where me best were to ally.\r\nBut one thing warn I you, my friendes dear,\r\nI will none old wife have in no mannere:\r\nShe shall not passe sixteen year certain.\r\nOld fish and younge flesh would I have fain.\r\nBetter,\u201d quoth he, \u201ca pike than a pickerel,*                 *young pike\r\nAnd better than old beef is tender veal.\r\nI will no woman thirty year of age,\r\nIt is but beanestraw and great forage.\r\nAnd eke these olde widows (God it wot)\r\nThey conne* so much craft on Wade\u2019s boat,<5>                       *know\r\n*So muche brooke harm when that them lest,*         *they can do so much\r\nThat with them should I never live in rest.         harm when they wish*\r\nFor sundry schooles make subtle clerkes;\r\nWoman of many schooles half a clerk is.\r\nBut certainly a young thing men may guy,*                         *guide\r\nRight as men may warm wax with handes ply.*                  *bend,mould\r\nWherefore I say you plainly in a clause,\r\nI will none old wife have, right for this cause.\r\nFor if so were I hadde such mischance,\r\nThat I in her could have no pleasance,\r\nThen should I lead my life in avoutrie,*                       *adultery\r\nAnd go straight to the devil when I die.\r\nNor children should I none upon her getten:\r\nYet *were me lever* houndes had me eaten                *I would rather*\r\nThan that mine heritage shoulde fall\r\nIn strange hands: and this I tell you all.\r\nI doubte not I know the cause why\r\nMen shoulde wed: and farthermore know I\r\nThere speaketh many a man of marriage\r\nThat knows no more of it than doth my page,\r\nFor what causes a man should take a wife.\r\nIf he ne may not live chaste his life,\r\nTake him a wife with great devotion,\r\nBecause of lawful procreation\r\nOf children, to th\u2019 honour of God above,\r\nAnd not only for paramour or love;\r\nAnd for they shoulde lechery eschew,\r\nAnd yield their debte when that it is due:\r\nOr for that each of them should help the other\r\nIn mischief,* as a sister shall the brother,                    *trouble\r\nAnd live in chastity full holily.\r\nBut, Sires, by your leave, that am not I,\r\nFor, God be thanked, I dare make avaunt,*                         *boast\r\nI feel my limbes stark* and suffisant                            *strong\r\nTo do all that a man belongeth to:\r\nI wot myselfe best what I may do.\r\nThough I be hoar, I fare as doth a tree,\r\nThat blossoms ere the fruit y-waxen* be;                          *grown\r\nThe blossomy tree is neither dry nor dead;\r\nI feel me now here hoar but on my head.\r\nMine heart and all my limbes are as green\r\nAs laurel through the year is for to seen.*                         *see\r\nAnd, since that ye have heard all mine intent,\r\nI pray you to my will ye would assent.\u201d\r\n\r\nDiverse men diversely him told\r\nOf marriage many examples old;\r\nSome blamed it, some praised it, certain;\r\nBut at the haste, shortly for to sayn\r\n(As all day* falleth altercation                  *constantly, every day\r\nBetwixte friends in disputation),\r\nThere fell a strife betwixt his brethren two,\r\nOf which that one was called Placebo,\r\nJustinus soothly called was that other.\r\n\r\nPlacebo said; \u201cO January, brother,\r\nFull little need have ye, my lord so dear,\r\nCounsel to ask of any that is here:\r\nBut that ye be so full of sapience,\r\nThat you not liketh, for your high prudence,\r\nTo waive* from the word of Solomon.                     *depart, deviate\r\nThis word said he unto us every one;\r\nWork alle thing by counsel, \u2014 thus said he, \u2014\r\nAnd thenne shalt thou not repente thee\r\nBut though that Solomon spake such a word,\r\nMine owen deare brother and my lord,\r\nSo wisly* God my soule bring at rest,                            *surely\r\nI hold your owen counsel is the best.\r\nFor, brother mine, take of me this motive; *     *advice, encouragement\r\nI have now been a court-man all my life,\r\nAnd, God it wot, though I unworthy be,\r\nI have standen in full great degree\r\nAboute lordes of full high estate;\r\nYet had I ne\u2019er with none of them debate;\r\nI never them contraried truely.\r\nI know well that my lord can* more than I;                        *knows\r\nWhat that he saith I hold it firm and stable,\r\nI say the same, or else a thing semblable.\r\nA full great fool is any counsellor\r\nThat serveth any lord of high honour\r\nThat dare presume, or ones thinken it;\r\nThat his counsel should pass his lorde\u2019s wit.\r\nNay, lordes be no fooles by my fay.\r\nYe have yourselfe shewed here to day\r\nSo high sentence,* so holily and well               *judgment, sentiment\r\nThat I consent, and confirm *every deal*                *in every point*\r\nYour wordes all, and your opinioun\r\nBy God, there is no man in all this town\r\nNor in Itale, could better have y-said.\r\nChrist holds him of this counsel well apaid.*                 *satisfied\r\nAnd truely it is a high courage\r\nOf any man that stopen* is in age,                         *advanced <6>\r\nTo take a young wife, by my father\u2019s kin;\r\nYour hearte hangeth on a jolly pin.\r\nDo now in this matter right as you lest,\r\nFor finally I hold it for the best.\u201d\r\n\r\nJustinus, that aye stille sat and heard,\r\nRight in this wise to Placebo answer\u2019d.\r\n\u201cNow, brother mine, be patient I pray,\r\nSince ye have said, and hearken what I say.\r\nSenec, among his other wordes wise,\r\nSaith, that a man ought him right well advise,*                *consider\r\nTo whom he gives his hand or his chattel.\r\nAnd since I ought advise me right well\r\nTo whom I give my good away from me,\r\nWell more I ought advise me, pardie,\r\nTo whom I give my body: for alway\r\nI warn you well it is no childe\u2019s play\r\nTo take a wife without advisement.\r\nMen must inquire (this is mine assent)\r\nWhe\u2019er she be wise, or sober, or dronkelew,*             *given to drink\r\nOr proud, or any other ways a shrew,\r\nA chidester,* or a waster of thy good,                          *a scold\r\nOr rich or poor; or else a man is wood.*                            *mad\r\nAlbeit so, that no man finde shall\r\nNone in this world, that *trotteth whole in all,*           *is sound in\r\nNo man, nor beast, such as men can devise,*     every point*  *describe\r\nBut nathehess it ought enough suffice\r\nWith any wife, if so were that she had\r\nMore goode thewes* than her vices bad:                       * qualities\r\nAnd all this asketh leisure to inquere.\r\nFor, God it wot, I have wept many a tear\r\nFull privily, since I have had a wife.\r\nPraise whoso will a wedded manne\u2019s life,\r\nCertes, I find in it but cost and care,\r\nAnd observances of all blisses bare.\r\nAnd yet, God wot, my neighebours about,\r\nAnd namely* of women many a rout,**                *especially **company\r\nSay that I have the moste steadfast wife,\r\nAnd eke the meekest one, that beareth life.\r\nBut I know best where wringeth* me my shoe,                     *pinches\r\nYe may for me right as you like do\r\nAdvise you, ye be a man of age,\r\nHow that ye enter into marriage;\r\nAnd namely* with a young wife and a fair,                   * especially\r\nBy him that made water, fire, earth, air,\r\nThe youngest man that is in all this rout*                      *company\r\nIs busy enough to bringen it about\r\nTo have his wife alone, truste me:\r\nYe shall not please her fully yeares three,\r\nThis is to say, to do her full pleasance.\r\nA wife asketh full many an observance.\r\nI pray you that ye be not *evil apaid.\u201d*                    *displeased*\r\n\r\n\u201cWell,\u201d quoth this January, \u201cand hast thou said?\r\nStraw for thy Senec, and for thy proverbs,\r\nI counte not a pannier full of herbs\r\nOf schoole termes; wiser men than thou,\r\nAs thou hast heard, assented here right now\r\nTo my purpose: Placebo, what say ye?\u201d\r\n\u201cI say it is a cursed* man,\u201d quoth he,              *ill-natured, wicked\r\n\u201cThat letteth* matrimony, sickerly.\u201d                          *hindereth\r\nAnd with that word they rise up suddenly,\r\nAnd be assented fully, that he should\r\nBe wedded when him list, and where he would.\r\n\r\nHigh fantasy and curious business\r\nFrom day to day gan in the soul impress*             *imprint themselves\r\nOf January about his marriage\r\nMany a fair  shape, and many a fair visage\r\nThere passed through his hearte night by night.\r\nAs whoso took a mirror polish\u2019d bright,\r\nAnd set it in a common market-place,\r\nThen should he see many a figure pace\r\nBy his mirror; and in the same wise\r\nGan January in his thought devise\r\nOf maidens, which that dwelte him beside:\r\nHe wiste not where that he might abide.*           *stay, fix his choice\r\nFor if that one had beauty in her face,\r\nAnother stood so in the people\u2019s grace\r\nFor her sadness* and her benignity,                          *sedateness\r\nThat of the people greatest voice had she:\r\nAnd some were rich and had a badde name.\r\nBut natheless, betwixt earnest and game,\r\nHe at the last appointed him on one,\r\nAnd let all others from his hearte gon,\r\nAnd chose her of his own authority;\r\nFor love is blind all day, and may not see.\r\nAnd when that he was into bed y-brought,\r\nHe pourtray\u2019d in his heart and in his thought\r\nHer freshe beauty, and her age tender,\r\nHer middle small, her armes long and slender,\r\nHer wise governance, her gentleness,\r\nHer womanly bearing, and her sadness.*                       *sedateness\r\nAnd when that he *on her was condescended,*           *had selected her*\r\nHe thought his choice might not be amended;\r\nFor when that he himself concluded had,\r\nHe thought each other manne\u2019 s wit so bad,\r\nThat impossible it were to reply\r\nAgainst his choice; this was his fantasy.\r\nHis friendes sent he to, at his instance,\r\nAnd prayed them to do him that pleasance,\r\nThat hastily they would unto him come;\r\nHe would abridge their labour all and some:\r\nNeeded no more for them to go nor ride,<7>\r\n*He was appointed where he would abide.*            *he had definitively\r\n\r\nPlacebo came, and eke his friendes soon,                made his choice*\r\nAnd *alderfirst he bade them all a boon,*         *first of all he asked\r\nThat none of them no arguments would make              a favour of them*\r\nAgainst the purpose that he had y-take:\r\nWhich purpose was pleasant to God, said he,\r\nAnd very ground of his prosperity.\r\nHe said, there was a maiden in the town,\r\nWhich that of beauty hadde great renown;\r\nAll* were it so she were of small degree,                      *although\r\nSufficed him her youth and her beauty;\r\nWhich maid, he said, he would have to his wife,\r\nTo lead in ease and holiness his life;\r\nAnd thanked God, that he might have her all,\r\nThat no wight with his blisse parte* shall;                *have a share\r\nAnd prayed them to labour in this need,\r\nAnd shape that he faile not to speed:\r\nFor then, he said, his spirit was at ease.\r\n\u201cThen is,\u201d quoth he, \u201cnothing may me displease,\r\nSave one thing pricketh in my conscience,\r\nThe which I will rehearse in your presence.\r\nI have,\u201d quoth he, \u201cheard said, full yore* ago,                    *long\r\nThere may no man have perfect blisses two,\r\nThis is to say, on earth and eke in heaven.\r\nFor though he keep him from the sinne\u2019s seven,\r\nAnd eke from every branch of thilke tree,<8>\r\nYet is there so perfect felicity,\r\nAnd so great *ease and lust,* in marriage,        *comfort and pleasure*\r\nThat ev\u2019r I am aghast,* now in mine age                 *ashamed, afraid\r\nThat I shall head now so merry a life,\r\nSo delicate, withoute woe or strife,\r\nThat I shall have mine heav\u2019n on earthe here.\r\nFor since that very heav\u2019n is bought so dear,\r\nWith tribulation and great penance,\r\nHow should I then, living in such pleasance\r\nAs alle wedded men do with their wives,\r\nCome to the bliss where Christ *etern on live is?*    *lives eternally*\r\nThis is my dread;* and ye, my brethren tway,                      *doubt\r\nAssoile* me this question, I you pray.\u201d                 *resolve, answer\r\n\r\nJustinus, which that hated his folly,\r\nAnswer\u2019d anon right in his japery;*                *mockery, jesting way\r\nAnd, for he would his longe tale abridge,\r\nHe woulde no authority* allege,                           *written texts\r\nBut saide; \u201cSir, so there be none obstacle\r\nOther than this, God of his high miracle,\r\nAnd of his mercy, may so for you wirch,*                           *work\r\nThat, ere ye have your rights of holy church,\r\nYe may repent of wedded manne\u2019s life,\r\nIn which ye say there is no woe nor strife:\r\nAnd elles God forbid, *but if* he sent                           *unless\r\nA wedded man his grace him to repent\r\nWell often, rather than a single man.\r\nAnd therefore, Sir, *the beste rede I can,*   *this is the best counsel\r\nDespair you not, but have in your memory,                   that I know*\r\nParaventure she may be your purgatory;\r\nShe may be Godde\u2019s means, and Godde\u2019s whip;\r\nAnd then your soul shall up to heaven skip\r\nSwifter than doth an arrow from a bow.\r\nI hope to God hereafter ye shall know\r\nThat there is none so great felicity\r\nIn marriage, nor ever more shall be,\r\nThat you shall let* of your salvation;                           *hinder\r\nSo that ye use, as skill is and reason,\r\nThe lustes* of your wife attemperly,**           *pleasures **moderately\r\nAnd that ye please her not too amorously,\r\nAnd that ye keep you eke from other sin.\r\nMy tale is done, for my wit is but thin.\r\nBe not aghast* hereof, my brother dear,                 *aharmed, afraid\r\nBut let us waden out of this mattere,\r\nThe Wife of Bath, if ye have understand,\r\nOf marriage, which ye have now in hand,\r\nDeclared hath full well in little space;\r\nFare ye now well, God have you in his grace.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with this word this Justin\u2019 and his brother\r\nHave ta\u2019en their leave, and each of them of other.\r\nAnd when they saw that it must needes be,\r\nThey wroughte so, by sleight and wise treaty,\r\nThat she, this maiden, which that *Maius hight,*         *was named May*\r\nAs hastily as ever that she might,\r\nShall wedded be unto this January.\r\nI trow it were too longe you to tarry,\r\nIf I told you of every *script and band*                  *written bond*\r\nBy which she was feoffed in his hand;\r\nOr for to reckon of her rich array\r\nBut finally y-comen is the day\r\nThat to the churche bothe be they went,\r\nFor to receive the holy sacrament,\r\nForth came the priest, with stole about his neck,\r\nAnd bade her be like Sarah and Rebecc\u2019\r\nIn wisdom and in truth of marriage;\r\nAnd said his orisons, as is usage,\r\nAnd crouched* them, and prayed God should them bless,           *crossed\r\nAnd made all sicker* enough with holiness.                      *certain\r\n\r\nThus be they wedded with solemnity;\r\nAnd at the feaste sat both he and she,\r\nWith other worthy folk, upon the dais.\r\nAll full of joy and bliss is the palace,\r\nAnd full of instruments, and of vitaille, *              *victuals, food\r\nThe moste dainteous* of all Itale.                             *delicate\r\nBefore them stood such instruments of soun\u2019,\r\nThat Orpheus, nor of Thebes Amphioun,\r\nNe made never such a melody.\r\nAt every course came in loud minstrelsy,\r\nThat never Joab trumped for to hear,\r\nNor he, Theodomas, yet half so clear\r\nAt Thebes, when the city was in doubt.\r\nBacchus the wine them skinked* all about.                    *poured <9>\r\nAnd Venus laughed upon every wight\r\n(For January was become her knight,\r\nAnd woulde both assaye his courage\r\nIn liberty, and eke in marriage),\r\nAnd with her firebrand in her hand about\r\nDanced before the bride and all the rout.\r\nAnd certainly I dare right well say this,\r\nHymeneus, that god of wedding is,\r\nSaw never his life so merry a wedded man.\r\nHold thou thy peace, thou poet Marcian,<10>\r\nThat writest us that ilke* wedding merry                           *same\r\nOf her Philology and him Mercury,\r\nAnd of the songes that the Muses sung;\r\nToo small is both thy pen, and eke thy tongue\r\nFor to describen of this marriage.\r\nWhen tender youth hath wedded stooping age,\r\nThere is such mirth that it may not be writ;\r\nAssay it youreself, then may ye wit*                               *know\r\nIf that I lie or no in this mattere.\r\n\r\nMaius, that sat with so benign a cheer,*                    *countenance\r\nHer to behold it seemed faerie;\r\nQueen Esther never look\u2019d with such an eye\r\nOn Assuere, so meek a look had she;\r\nI may you not devise all her beauty;\r\nBut thus much of her beauty tell I may,\r\nThat she was hike the bright morrow of May\r\nFull filled of all beauty and pleasance.\r\nThis January is ravish\u2019d in a trance,\r\nAt every time he looked in her face;\r\nBut in his heart he gan her to menace,\r\nThat he that night in armes would her strain\r\nHarder than ever Paris did Helene.\r\nBut natheless yet had he great pity\r\nThat thilke night offende her must he,\r\nAnd thought, \u201cAlas, O tender creature,\r\nNow woulde God ye mighte well endure\r\nAll my courage, it is so sharp and keen;\r\nI am aghast* ye shall it not sustene.                            *afraid\r\nBut God forbid that I did all my might.\r\nNow woulde God that it were waxen night,\r\nAnd that the night would lasten evermo\u2019.\r\nI would that all this people were y-go.\u201d*                     *gone away\r\nAnd finally he did all his labour,\r\nAs he best mighte, saving his honour,\r\nTo haste them from the meat in subtle wise.\r\n\r\nThe time came that reason was to rise;\r\nAnd after that men dance, and drinke fast,\r\nAnd spices all about the house they cast,\r\nAnd full of joy and bliss is every man,\r\nAll but a squire, that highte Damian,\r\nWho carv\u2019d before the knight full many a day;\r\nHe was so ravish\u2019d on his lady May,\r\nThat for the very pain he was nigh wood;*                           *mad\r\nAlmost he swelt* and swooned where he stood,                    *fainted\r\nSo sore had Venus hurt him with her brand,\r\nAs that she bare it dancing in her hand.\r\nAnd to his bed he went him hastily;\r\nNo more of him as at this time speak I;\r\nBut there I let him weep enough and plain,*                      *bewail\r\nTill freshe May will rue upon his pain.\r\nO perilous fire, that in the bedstraw breedeth!\r\nO foe familiar,* that his service bedeth!**     *domestic <11> **offers\r\nO servant traitor, O  false homely hewe,*                  *servant <12>\r\nLike to the adder in bosom shy untrue,\r\nGod shield us alle from your acquaintance!\r\nO January, drunken in pleasance\r\nOf marriage, see how thy Damian,\r\nThine owen squier and thy boren* man,                         *born <13>\r\nIntendeth for to do thee villainy:*                  *dishonour, outrage\r\nGod grante thee thine *homehy foe* t\u2019 espy.     *enemy in the household*\r\nFor in this world is no worse pestilence\r\nThan homely foe, all day in thy presence.\r\n\r\nPerformed hath the sun his arc diurn,*                            *daily\r\nNo longer may the body of him sojourn\r\nOn the horizon, in that latitude:\r\nNight with his mantle, that is dark and rude,\r\nGan overspread the hemisphere about:\r\nFor which departed is this *lusty rout*               *pleasant company*\r\nFrom January, with thank on every side.\r\nHome to their houses lustily they ride,\r\nWhere as they do their thinges as them lest,\r\nAnd when they see their time they go to rest.\r\nSoon after that this hasty* January                               *eager\r\nWill go to bed, he will no longer tarry.\r\nHe dranke hippocras, clarre, and vernage <14>\r\nOf spices hot, to increase his courage;\r\nAnd many a lectuary* had he full fine,                           *potion\r\nSuch as the cursed monk Dan Constantine<15>\r\nHath written in his book *de Coitu;*             *of sexual intercourse*\r\nTo eat them all he would nothing eschew:\r\nAnd to his privy friendes thus said he:\r\n\u201cFor Godde\u2019s love, as soon as it may be,\r\nLet *voiden all* this house in courteous wise.\u201d         *everyone leave*\r\nAnd they have done right as he will devise.\r\nMen drinken, and the travers* draw anon;                       *curtains\r\nThe bride is brought to bed as still as stone;\r\nAnd when the bed was with the priest y-bless\u2019d,\r\nOut of the chamber every wight him dress\u2019d,\r\nAnd January hath fast in arms y-take\r\nHis freshe May, his paradise, his make.*                           *mate\r\nHe lulled her, he kissed her full oft;\r\nWith thicke bristles of his beard unsoft,\r\nLike to the skin of houndfish,* sharp as brere**        *dogfish **briar\r\n(For he was shav\u2019n all new in his mannere),\r\nHe rubbed her upon her tender face,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cAlas! I must trespace\r\nTo you, my spouse, and you greatly offend,\r\nEre time come that I will down descend.\r\nBut natheless consider this,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cThere is no workman, whatsoe\u2019er he be,\r\nThat may both worke well and hastily:\r\nThis will be done at leisure perfectly.\r\nIt is *no force* how longe that we play;                     *no matter*\r\nIn true wedlock coupled be we tway;\r\nAnd blessed be the yoke that we be in,\r\nFor in our actes may there be no sin.\r\nA man may do no sinne with his wife,\r\nNor hurt himselfe with his owen knife;\r\nFor we have leave to play us by the law.\u201d\r\n\r\nThus labour\u2019d he, till that the day gan daw,\r\nAnd then he took a sop in fine clarre,\r\nAnd upright in his bedde then sat he.\r\nAnd after that he sang full loud and clear,\r\nAnd kiss\u2019d his wife, and made wanton cheer.\r\nHe was all coltish, full of ragerie *                        *wantonness\r\nAnd full of jargon as a flecked pie.<16>\r\nThe slacke skin about his necke shaked,\r\nWhile that he sang, so chanted he and craked.*                 *quavered\r\nBut God wot what that May thought in her heart,\r\nWhen she him saw up sitting in his shirt\r\nIn his night-cap, and with his necke lean:\r\nShe praised not his playing worth a bean.\r\nThen said he thus; \u201cMy reste will I take\r\nNow day is come, I may no longer wake;\r\nAnd down he laid his head and slept till prime.\r\nAnd afterward, when that he saw his time,\r\nUp rose January, but freshe May\r\nHelde her chamber till the fourthe day,\r\nAs usage is of wives for the best.\r\nFor every labour some time must have rest,\r\nOr elles longe may he not endure;\r\nThis is to say, no life of creature,\r\nBe it of fish, or bird, or beast, or man.\r\n\r\nNow will I speak of woeful Damian,\r\nThat languisheth for love, as ye shall hear;\r\nTherefore I speak to him in this manneare.\r\nI say. \u201cO silly Damian, alas!\r\nAnswer to this demand, as in this case,\r\nHow shalt thou to thy lady, freshe May,\r\nTelle thy woe? She will alway say nay;\r\nEke if thou speak, she will thy woe bewray; *                    *betray\r\nGod be thine help, I can no better say.\r\nThis sicke Damian in Venus\u2019 fire\r\nSo burned that he died for desire;\r\nFor which he put his life *in aventure,*                       *at risk*\r\nNo longer might he in this wise endure;\r\nBut privily a penner* gan he borrow,                       *writing-case\r\nAnd in a letter wrote he all his sorrow,\r\nIn manner of a complaint or a lay,\r\nUnto his faire freshe lady May.\r\nAnd in a purse of silk, hung on his shirt,\r\nHe hath it put, and laid it at his heart.\r\n\r\nThe moone, that at noon was thilke* day                            *that\r\nThat January had wedded freshe May,\r\nIn ten of Taure, was into Cancer glided;<17>\r\nSo long had Maius in her chamber abided,\r\nAs custom is unto these nobles all.\r\nA bride shall not eaten in the ball\r\nTill dayes four, or three days at the least,\r\nY-passed be; then let her go to feast.\r\nThe fourthe day complete from noon to noon,\r\nWhen that the highe masse was y-done,\r\nIn halle sat this January, and May,\r\nAs fresh as is the brighte summer\u2019s day.\r\nAnd so befell, how that this goode man\r\nRemember\u2019d him upon this Damian.\r\nAnd saide; \u201cSaint Mary, how may this be,\r\nThat Damian attendeth not to me?\r\nIs he aye sick? or how may this betide?\u201d\r\nHis squiers, which that stoode there beside,\r\nExcused him, because of his sickness,\r\nWhich letted* him to do his business:                          *hindered\r\nNone other cause mighte make him tarry.\r\n\u201cThat me forthinketh,\u201d* quoth this January              *grieves, causes\r\n\u201cHe is a gentle squier, by my truth;                          uneasiness\r\nIf that he died, it were great harm and ruth.\r\nHe is as wise, as discreet, and secre\u2019,*                 *secret, trusty\r\nAs any man I know of his degree,\r\nAnd thereto manly and eke serviceble,\r\nAnd for to be a thrifty man right able.\r\nBut after meat, as soon as ever I may\r\nI will myself visit him, and eke May,\r\nTo do him all the comfort that I can.\u201d\r\nAnd for that word him blessed every man,\r\nThat of his bounty and his gentleness\r\nHe woulde so comforten in sickness\r\nHis squier, for it was a gentle deed.\r\n\r\n\u201cDame,\u201d quoth this January, \u201ctake good heed,\r\nAt after meat, ye with your women all\r\n(When that ye be in chamb\u2019r out of this hall),\r\nThat all ye go to see this Damian:\r\nDo him disport, he is a gentle man;\r\nAnd telle him that I will him visite,\r\n*Have I nothing but rested me a lite:*          *when only I have rested\r\nAnd speed you faste, for I will abide                       me a little*\r\nTill that ye sleepe faste by my side.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word he gan unto him call\r\nA squier, that was marshal of his hall,\r\nAnd told him certain thinges that he wo\u2019ld.\r\nThis freshe May hath straight her way y-hold,\r\nWith all her women, unto Damian.\r\nDown by his beddes side sat she than,*                             *then\r\nComforting him as goodly as she may.\r\nThis Damian, when that his time he say,*                            *saw\r\nIn secret wise his purse, and eke his bill,\r\nIn which that he y-written had his will,\r\nHath put into her hand withoute more,\r\nSave that he sighed wondrous deep and sore,\r\nAnd softely to her right thus said he:\r\n\u201cMercy, and that ye not discover me:\r\nFor I am dead if that this thing be kid.\u201d*              *discovered <18>\r\nThe purse hath she in her bosom hid,\r\nAnd went her way; ye get no more of me;\r\nBut unto January come is she,\r\nThat on his bedde\u2019s side sat full soft.\r\nHe took her, and he kissed her full oft,\r\nAnd laid him down to sleep, and that anon.\r\nShe feigned her as that she muste gon\r\nThere as ye know that every wight must need;\r\nAnd when she of this bill had taken heed,\r\nShe rent it all to cloutes* at the last,                      *fragments\r\nAnd in the privy softely it cast.\r\nWho studieth* now but faire freshe May?                   *is thoughtful\r\nAdown by olde January she lay,\r\nThat slepte, till the cough had him awaked:\r\nAnon he pray\u2019d her strippe her all naked,\r\nHe would of her, he said, have some pleasance;\r\nAnd said her clothes did him incumbrance.\r\nAnd she obey\u2019d him, be her *lefe or loth.*        *willing or unwilling*\r\nBut, lest that precious* folk be with me wroth,          *over-nice <19>\r\nHow that he wrought I dare not to you tell,\r\nOr whether she thought it paradise or hell;\r\nBut there I let them worken in their wise\r\nTill evensong ring, and they must arise.\r\n\r\nWere it by destiny, or aventure,*                               * chance\r\nWere it by influence, or by nature,\r\nOr constellation, that in such estate\r\nThe heaven stood at that time fortunate\r\nAs for to put a bill of Venus\u2019 works\r\n(For alle thing hath time, as say these clerks),\r\nTo any woman for to get her love,\r\nI cannot say; but greate God above,\r\nThat knoweth that none act is causeless,\r\n*He deem* of all, for I will hold my peace.              *let him judge*\r\nBut sooth is this, how that this freshe May\r\nHath taken such impression that day\r\nOf pity on this sicke Damian,\r\nThat from her hearte she not drive can\r\nThe remembrance for *to do him ease.*                        *to satisfy\r\n\u201cCertain,\u201d thought she, \u201cwhom that this thing displease      his desire*\r\nI recke not, for here I him assure,\r\nTo love him best of any creature,\r\nThough he no more haddee than his shirt.\u201d\r\nLo, pity runneth soon in gentle heart.\r\nHere may ye see, how excellent franchise*                    *generosity\r\nIn women is when they them *narrow advise.*           *closely consider*\r\nSome tyrant is, \u2014 as there be many a one, \u2014\r\nThat hath a heart as hard as any stone,\r\nWhich would have let him sterven* in the place                      *die\r\nWell rather than have granted him her grace;\r\nAnd then rejoicen in her cruel pride.\r\nAnd reckon not to be a homicide.\r\nThis gentle May, full filled of pity,\r\nRight of her hand a letter maked she,\r\nIn which she granted him her very grace;\r\nThere lacked nought, but only day and place,\r\nWhere that she might unto his lust suffice:\r\nFor it shall be right as he will devise.\r\nAnd when she saw her time upon a day\r\nTo visit this Damian went this May,\r\nAnd subtilly this letter down she thrust\r\nUnder his pillow, read it if him lust.*                         *pleased\r\nShe took him by the hand, and hard him twist\r\nSo secretly, that no wight of it wist,\r\nAnd bade him be all whole; and forth she went\r\nTo January, when he for her sent.\r\nUp rose Damian the nexte morrow,\r\nAll passed was his sickness and his sorrow.\r\nHe combed him, he proined <20> him and picked,\r\nHe did all that unto his lady liked;\r\nAnd eke to January he went as low\r\nAs ever did a dogge for the bow.<21>\r\nHe is so pleasant unto every man\r\n(For craft is all, whoso that do it can),\r\nEvery wight is fain to speak him good;\r\nAnd fully in his lady\u2019s grace he stood.\r\nThus leave I Damian about his need,\r\nAnd in my tale forth I will proceed.\r\n\r\nSome clerke* holde that felicity                      *writers, scholars\r\nStands in delight; and therefore certain he,\r\nThis noble January, with all his might\r\nIn honest wise as longeth* to a knight,                       *belongeth\r\nShope* him to live full deliciously:                 *prepared, arranged\r\nHis housing, his array, as honestly*               *honourably, suitably\r\nTo his degree was maked as a king\u2019s.\r\nAmonges other of his honest things\r\nHe had a garden walled all with stone;\r\nSo fair a garden wot I nowhere none.\r\nFor out of doubt I verily suppose\r\nThat he that wrote the Romance of the Rose <22>\r\nCould not of it the beauty well devise;*                       *describe\r\nNor Priapus <23> mighte not well suffice,\r\nThough he be god of gardens, for to tell\r\nThe beauty of the garden, and the well*                        *fountain\r\nThat stood under a laurel always green.\r\nFull often time he, Pluto, and his queen\r\nProserpina, and all their faerie,\r\nDisported them and made melody\r\nAbout that well, and danced, as men told.\r\nThis noble knight, this January old\r\nSuch dainty* had in it to walk and play,                       *pleasure\r\nThat he would suffer no wight to bear the key,\r\nSave he himself, for of the small wicket\r\nHe bare always of silver a cliket,*                                 *key\r\nWith which, when that him list, he it unshet.*                   *opened\r\nAnd when that he would pay his wife\u2019s debt,\r\nIn summer season, thither would he go,\r\nAnd May his wife, and no wight but they two;\r\nAnd thinges which that were not done in bed,\r\nHe in the garden them perform\u2019d and sped.\r\nAnd in this wise many a merry day\r\nLived this January and fresh May,\r\nBut worldly joy may not always endure\r\nTo January, nor to no creatucere.\r\n\r\nO sudden hap! O thou fortune unstable!\r\nLike to the scorpion so deceivable,*                          *deceitful\r\nThat fhatt\u2019rest with thy head when thou wilt sting;\r\nThy tail is death, through thine envenoming.\r\nO brittle joy! O sweete poison quaint!*                         *strange\r\nO monster, that so subtilly canst paint\r\nThy giftes, under hue of steadfastness,\r\nThat thou deceivest bothe *more and less!*             *great and small*\r\nWhy hast thou January thus deceiv\u2019d,\r\nThat haddest him for thy full friend receiv\u2019d?\r\nAnd now thou hast bereft him both his eyen,\r\nFor sorrow of which desireth he to dien.\r\nAlas! this noble January free,\r\nAmid his lust* and his prosperity                              *pleasure\r\nIs waxen blind, and that all suddenly.\r\nHe weeped and he wailed piteously;\r\nAnd therewithal the fire of jealousy\r\n(Lest that his wife should fall in some folly)\r\nSo burnt his hearte, that he woulde fain,\r\nThat some man bothe him and her had slain;\r\nFor neither after his death, nor in his life,\r\nNe would he that she were no love nor wife,\r\nBut ever live as widow in clothes black,\r\nSole as the turtle that hath lost her make.*                       *mate\r\nBut at the last, after a month or tway,\r\nHis sorrow gan assuage, soothe to say.\r\nFor, when he wist it might none other be,\r\nHe patiently took his adversity:\r\nSave out of doubte he may not foregon\r\nThat he was jealous evermore-in-one:*                       *continually\r\nWhich jealousy was so outrageous,\r\nThat neither in hall, nor in none other house,\r\nNor in none other place never the mo\u2019\r\nHe woulde suffer her to ride or go,\r\n*But if* that he had hand on her alway.                          *unless\r\nFor which full often wepte freshe May,\r\nThat loved Damian so burningly\r\nThat she must either dien suddenly,\r\nOr elles she must have him as her lest:*                        *pleased\r\nShe waited* when her hearte woulde brest.**            *expected **burst\r\nUpon that other side Damian\r\nBecomen is the sorrowfullest man\r\nThat ever was; for neither night nor day\r\nHe mighte speak a word to freshe May,\r\nAs to his purpose, of no such mattere,\r\n*But if* that January must it hear,                             *unless*\r\nThat had a hand upon her evermo\u2019.\r\nBut natheless, by writing to and fro,\r\nAnd privy signes, wist he what she meant,\r\nAnd she knew eke the fine* of his intent.                      *end, aim\r\n\r\nO January, what might it thee avail,\r\nThough thou might see as far as shippes sail?\r\nFor as good is it blind deceiv\u2019d to be,\r\nAs be deceived when a man may see.\r\nLo, Argus, which that had a hundred eyen, <24>\r\nFor all that ever he could pore or pryen,\r\nYet was he blent;* and, God wot, so be mo\u2019,                    *deceived\r\nThat *weene wisly* that it be not so:                *think confidently*\r\nPass over is an ease, I say no more.\r\nThis freshe May, of which I spake yore,*                     *previously\r\nIn warm wax hath *imprinted the cliket*             *taken an impression\r\nThat January bare of the small wicket                        of the key*\r\nBy which into his garden oft he went;\r\nAnd Damian, that knew all her intent,\r\nThe cliket counterfeited privily;\r\nThere is no more to say, but hastily\r\nSome wonder by this cliket shall betide,\r\nWhich ye shall hearen, if ye will abide.\r\n\r\nO noble Ovid, sooth say\u2019st thou, God wot,\r\nWhat sleight is it, if love be long and hot,\r\nThat he\u2019ll not find it out in some mannere?\r\nBy Pyramus and Thisbe may men lear;*                              *learn\r\nThough they were kept full long and strait o\u2019er all,\r\nThey be accorded,* rowning** through a wall,        *agreed\t**whispering\r\nWhere no wight could have found out such a sleight.\r\nBut now to purpose; ere that dayes eight\r\nWere passed of the month of July, fill*                       *it befell\r\nThat January caught so great a will,\r\nThrough egging* of his wife, him for to play                   *inciting\r\nIn his garden, and no wight but they tway,\r\nThat in a morning to this May said he: <25>\r\n\u201cRise up, my wife, my love, my lady free;\r\nThe turtle\u2019s voice is heard, mine owen sweet;\r\nThe winter is gone, with all his raines weet.*                      *wet\r\nCome forth now with thine *eyen columbine*         *eyes like the doves*\r\nWell fairer be thy breasts than any wine.\r\nThe garden is enclosed all about;\r\nCome forth, my white spouse; for, out of doubt,\r\nThou hast me wounded in mine heart, O wife:\r\nNo spot in thee was e\u2019er in all thy life.\r\nCome forth, and let us taken our disport;\r\nI choose thee for my wife and my comfort.\u201d\r\nSuch olde lewed* wordes used he.                      *foolish, ignorant\r\nOn Damian a signe made she,\r\nThat he should go before with his cliket.\r\nThis Damian then hath opened the wicket,\r\nAnd in he start, and that in such mannere\r\nThat no wight might him either see or hear;\r\nAnd still he sat under a bush. Anon\r\nThis January, as blind as is a stone,\r\nWith Maius in his hand, and no wight mo\u2019,\r\nInto this freshe garden is y-go,\r\nAnd clapped to the wicket suddenly.\r\n\u201cNow, wife,\u201d quoth he, \u201chere is but thou and I;\r\nThou art the creature that I beste love:\r\nFor, by that Lord that sits in heav\u2019n above,\r\nLever* I had to dien on a knife,                                 *rather\r\nThan thee offende, deare true wife.\r\nFor Godde\u2019s sake, think how I thee chees,*                        *chose\r\nNot for no covetise* doubteless,                          * covetousness\r\nBut only for the love I had to thee.\r\nAnd though that I be old, and may not see,\r\nBe to me true, and I will tell you why.\r\nCertes three thinges shall ye win thereby:\r\nFirst, love of Christ, and to yourself honour,\r\nAnd all mine heritage, town and tow\u2019r.\r\nI give it you, make charters as you lest;\r\nThis shall be done to-morrow ere sun rest,\r\nSo wisly* God my soule bring to bliss!                           *surely\r\nI pray you, on this covenant me kiss.\r\nAnd though that I be jealous, wite* me not;                       *blame\r\nYe be so deep imprinted in my thought,\r\nThat when that I consider your beauty,\r\nAnd therewithal *th\u2019unlikely eld* of me,                *dissimilar age*\r\nI may not, certes, though I shoulde die,\r\nForbear to be out of your company,\r\nFor very love; this is withoute doubt:\r\nNow kiss me, wife, and let us roam about.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis freshe May, when she these wordes heard,\r\nBenignely to January answer\u2019d;\r\nBut first and forward she began to weep:\r\n\u201cI have,\u201d quoth she, \u201ca soule for to keep\r\nAs well as ye, and also mine honour,\r\nAnd of my wifehood thilke* tender flow\u2019r                      *that same\r\nWhich that I have assured in your hond,\r\nWhen that the priest to you my body bond:\r\nWherefore I will answer in this mannere,\r\nWith leave of you mine owen lord so dear.\r\nI pray to God, that never dawn the day\r\nThat I *no sterve,* as foul as woman may,                   *do not die*\r\nIf e\u2019er I do unto my kin that shame,\r\nOr elles I impaire so my name,\r\nThat I bee false; and if I do that lack,\r\nDo strippe me, and put me in a sack,\r\nAnd in the nexte river do me drench:*                             *drown\r\nI am a gentle woman, and no wench.\r\nWhy speak ye thus? but men be e\u2019er untrue,\r\nAnd women have reproof of you aye new.\r\nYe know none other dalliance, I believe,\r\nBut speak to us of untrust and repreve.\u201d*                       *reproof\r\n\r\nAnd with that word she saw where Damian\r\nSat in the bush, and coughe she began;\r\nAnd with her finger signe made she,\r\nThat Damian should climb upon a tree\r\nThat charged was with fruit; and up he went:\r\nFor verily he knew all her intent,\r\nAnd every signe that she coulde make,\r\nBetter than January her own make.*                                 *mate\r\nFor in a letter she had told him all\r\nOf this matter, how that he worke shall.\r\nAnd thus I leave him sitting in the perry,*                   *pear-tree\r\nAnd January and May roaming full merry.\r\n\r\nBright was the day, and blue the firmament;\r\nPhoebus of gold his streames down had sent\r\nTo gladden every flow\u2019r with his warmness;\r\nHe was that time in Geminis, I guess,\r\nBut little from his declination\r\nOf Cancer, Jove\u2019s exaltation.\r\nAnd so befell, in that bright morning-tide,\r\nThat in the garden, on the farther side,\r\nPluto, that is the king of Faerie,\r\nAnd many a lady in his company\r\nFollowing his wife, the queen Proserpina, \u2014\r\nWhich that he ravished out of Ethna,<26>\r\nWhile that she gather\u2019d flowers in the mead\r\n(In Claudian ye may the story read,\r\nHow in his grisly chariot he her fet*), \u2014                      *fetched\r\nThis king of Faerie adown him set\r\nUpon a bank of turfes fresh and green,\r\nAnd right anon thus said he to his queen.\r\n\u201cMy wife,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthere may no wight say nay, \u2014\r\nExperience so proves it every day, \u2014\r\nThe treason which that woman doth to man.\r\nTen hundred thousand stories tell I can\r\nNotable of your untruth and brittleness *                   *inconstancy\r\nO Solomon, richest of all richess,\r\nFull fill\u2019d of sapience and worldly glory,\r\nFull worthy be thy wordes of memory\r\nTo every wight that wit and reason can. *                         *knows\r\nThus praised he yet the bounte* of man:                        *goodness\r\n\u2018Among a thousand men yet found I one,\r\nBut of all women found I never none.\u2019 <27>\r\nThus said this king, that knew your wickedness;\r\nAnd Jesus, Filius Sirach, <28> as I guess,\r\nHe spake of you but seldom reverence.\r\nA wilde fire and corrupt pestilence\r\nSo fall upon your bodies yet to-night!\r\nNe see ye not this honourable knight?\r\nBecause, alas! that he is blind and old,\r\nHis owen man shall make him cuckold.\r\nLo, where he sits, the lechour, in the tree.\r\nNow will I granten, of my majesty,\r\nUnto this olde blinde worthy knight,\r\nThat he shall have again his eyen sight,\r\nWhen that his wife will do him villainy;\r\nThen shall be knowen all her harlotry,\r\nBoth in reproof of her and other mo\u2019.\u201d\r\n\u201cYea, Sir,\u201d quoth Proserpine,\u201d and will ye so?\r\nNow by my mother Ceres\u2019 soul I swear\r\nThat I shall give her suffisant answer,\r\nAnd alle women after, for her sake;\r\nThat though they be in any guilt y-take,\r\nWith face bold they shall themselves excuse,\r\nAnd bear them down that woulde them accuse.\r\nFor lack of answer, none of them shall dien.\r\n\r\nAll* had ye seen a thing with both your eyen,                  *although\r\nYet shall *we visage it* so hardily,                       *confront it*\r\nAnd weep, and swear, and chide subtilly,\r\nThat ye shall be as lewed* as be geese.            *ignorant, confounded\r\nWhat recketh me of your authorities?\r\nI wot well that this Jew, this Solomon,\r\nFound of us women fooles many one:\r\nBut though that he founde no good woman,\r\nYet there hath found many another man\r\nWomen full good, and true, and virtuous;\r\nWitness on them that dwelt in Christes house;\r\nWith martyrdom they proved their constance.\r\nThe Roman gestes <29> make remembrance\r\nOf many a very true wife also.\r\nBut, Sire, be not wroth, albeit so,\r\nThough that he said he found no good woman,\r\nI pray you take the sentence* of the man:         *opinion, real meaning\r\nHe meant thus, that in *sovereign bounte*              *perfect goodness\r\nIs none but God, no, neither *he nor she.*               *man nor woman*\r\nHey, for the very God that is but one,\r\nWhy make ye so much of Solomon?\r\nWhat though he made a temple, Godde\u2019s house?\r\nWhat though he were rich and glorious?\r\nSo made he eke a temple of false goddes;\r\nHow might he do a thing that more forbode* is?                *forbidden\r\nPardie, as fair as ye his name emplaster,*   *plaster over, \u201cwhitewash\u201d\r\nHe was a lechour, and an idolaster,*                           *idohater\r\nAnd in his eld he very* God forsook.                           *the true\r\nAnd if that God had not (as saith the book)\r\nSpared him for his father\u2019s sake, he should\r\nHave lost his regne* rather** than he would.           *kingdom **sooner\r\nI *sette not of*  all the villainy                           *value not*\r\nThat he of women wrote, a butterfly.\r\nI am a woman, needes must I speak,\r\nOr elles swell until mine hearte break.\r\nFor since he said that we be jangleresses,*                  *chatterers\r\nAs ever may I brooke* whole my tresses,                        *preserve\r\nI shall not spare for no courtesy\r\nTo speak him harm, that said us villainy.\u201d\r\n\u201cDame,\u201d quoth this Pluto, \u201cbe no longer wroth;\r\nI give it up: but, since I swore mine oath\r\nThat I would grant to him his sight again,\r\nMy word shall stand, that warn I you certain:\r\nI am a king; it sits* me not to lie.\u201d                   *becomes, befits\r\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d quoth she, \u201cam queen of Faerie.\r\nHer answer she shall have, I undertake,\r\nLet us no more wordes of it make.\r\nForsooth, I will no longer you contrary.\u201d\r\n\r\nNow let us turn again to January,\r\nThat in the garden with his faire May\r\nSingeth well merrier than the popinjay:*                         *parrot\r\n\u201cYou love I best, and shall, and other none.\u201d\r\nSo long about the alleys is he gone,\r\nTill he was come to *that ilke perry,*              *the same pear-tree*\r\nWhere as this Damian satte full merry\r\nOn high, among the freshe leaves green.\r\nThis freshe May, that is so bright and sheen,\r\nGan for to sigh, and said, \u201cAlas my side!\r\nNow, Sir,\u201d quoth she, \u201cfor aught that may betide,\r\nI must have of the peares that I see,\r\nOr I must die, so sore longeth me\r\nTo eaten of the smalle peares green;\r\nHelp, for her love that is of heaven queen!\r\nI tell you well, a woman in my plight <30>\r\nMay have to fruit so great an appetite,\r\nThat she may dien, but* she of it have. \u201c                        *unless\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201cthat I had here a knave*                     *servant\r\nThat coulde climb; alas! alas!\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cFor I am blind.\u201d  \u201cYea, Sir, *no force,\u201d* quoth she;        *no matter*\r\n\u201cBut would ye vouchesafe, for Godde\u2019s sake,\r\nThe perry in your armes for to take\r\n(For well I wot that ye mistruste me),\r\nThen would I climbe well enough,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cSo I my foot might set upon your back.\u201d\r\n\u201cCertes,\u201d said he, \u201ctherein shall be no lack,\r\nMight I you helpe with mine hearte\u2019s blood.\u201d\r\nHe stooped down, and on his back she stood,\r\nAnd caught her by a twist,* and up she go\u2019th.               *twig, bough\r\n(Ladies, I pray you that ye be not wroth,\r\nI cannot glose,* I am a rude man):                        *mince matters\r\nAnd suddenly anon this Damian\r\nGan pullen up the smock, and in he throng.*                 *rushed <31>\r\nAnd when that Pluto saw this greate wrong,\r\nTo January he gave again his sight,\r\nAnd made him see as well as ever he might.\r\nAnd when he thus had caught his sight again,\r\nWas never man of anything so fain:\r\nBut on his wife his thought was evermo\u2019.\r\nUp to the tree he cast his eyen two,\r\nAnd saw how Damian his wife had dress\u2019d,\r\nIn such mannere, it may not be express\u2019d,\r\n*But if* I woulde speak uncourteously.                          *unless*\r\nAnd up he gave a roaring and a cry,\r\nAs doth the mother when the child shall die;\r\n\u201cOut! help! alas! harow!\u201d he gan to cry;\r\n\u201cO stronge, lady, stowre! <32> what doest thou?\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd she answered: \u201cSir, what aileth you?\r\nHave patience and reason in your mind,\r\nI have you help\u2019d on both your eyen blind.\r\nOn peril of my soul, I shall not lien,\r\nAs me was taught to helpe with your eyen,\r\nWas nothing better for to make you see,\r\nThan struggle with a man upon a tree:\r\nGod wot, I did it in full good intent.\u201d\r\n\u201cStruggle!\u201d quoth he, \u201cyea, algate* in it went.            *whatever way\r\nGod give you both one shame\u2019s death to dien!\r\nHe swived* thee; I saw it with mine eyen;              *enjoyed carnally\r\nAnd elles be I hanged by the halse.\u201d*                              *neck\r\n\u201cThen is,\u201d quoth she, \u201cmy medicine all false;\r\nFor certainly, if that ye mighte see,\r\nYe would not say these wordes unto me.\r\nYe have some glimpsing,* and no perfect sight.\u201d              *glimmering\r\n\u201cI see,\u201d quoth he, \u201cas well as ever I might,\r\n(Thanked be God!) with both mine eyen two,\r\nAnd by my faith me thought he did thee so.\u201d\r\n\u201cYe maze,*  ye maze, goode Sir,\u201d quoth she;          *rave, are confused\r\n\u201cThis thank have I for I have made you see:\r\nAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201cthat e\u2019er I was so kind.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, Dame,\u201d quoth he, \u201clet all pass out of mind;\r\nCome down, my lefe,* and if I have missaid,                        *love\r\nGod help me so, as I am *evil apaid.*                     *dissatisfied*\r\nBut, by my father\u2019s soul, I ween\u2019d have seen\r\nHow that this Damian had by thee lain,\r\nAnd that thy smock had lain upon his breast.\u201d\r\n\u201cYea, Sir,\u201d quoth she, \u201cye may *ween as ye lest:*          *think as you\r\nBut, Sir, a man that wakes out of his sleep,                     please*\r\nHe may not suddenly well take keep*                              *notice\r\nUpon a thing, nor see it perfectly,\r\nTill that he be adawed* verily.                                *awakened\r\nRight so a man, that long hath blind y-be,\r\nHe may not suddenly so well y-see,\r\nFirst when his sight is newe come again,\r\nAs he that hath a day or two y-seen.\r\nTill that your sight establish\u2019d be a while,\r\nThere may full many a sighte you beguile.\r\nBeware, I pray you, for, by heaven\u2019s king,\r\nFull many a man weeneth to see a thing,\r\nAnd it is all another than it seemeth;\r\nHe which that misconceiveth oft misdeemeth.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word she leapt down from the tree.\r\nThis January, who is glad but he?\r\nHe kissed her, and clipped* her full oft,                      *embraced\r\nAnd on her womb he stroked her full soft;\r\nAnd to his palace home he hath her lad.*                            *led\r\nNow, goode men, I pray you to be glad.\r\nThus endeth here my tale of January,\r\nGod bless us, and his mother, Sainte Mary.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The Merchant\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. If, as is probable, this Tale was translated from the French,\r\nthe original is not now extant. Tyrwhitt remarks that the scene\r\n\u201cis laid in Italy, but none of the names, except Damian and\r\nJustin, seem to be Italian,  but rather made at pleasure; so that I\r\ndoubt whether the story be really of Italian growth. The\r\nadventure of the pear-tree I find in a small collection of Latin\r\nfables, written by one Adoiphus, in elegiac verses of his fashion,\r\nin the year 1315. . . . Whatever was the real origin of the Tale,\r\nthe machinery of the fairies, which Chaucer has used so happily,\r\nwas probably added by himself; and, indeed, I cannot help\r\nthinking that his Pluto and Proserpina were the true progenitors\r\nof Oberon and Titania; or rather, that they themselves have,\r\nonce at least, deigned to revisit our poetical system under the\r\nlatter names.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. Seculeres: of the laity; but perhaps, since the word is of two-\r\nfold meaning, Chaucer intends a hit at the secular clergy, who,\r\nunlike the regular orders, did not live separate from the world,\r\nbut shared in all its interests and pleasures \u2014 all the more easily\r\nand freely, that they had not the civil restraint of marriage.\r\n\r\n3. This and the next eight lines are taken from the \u201cLiber\r\naureolus Theophrasti de nuptiis,\u201d (\u201cTheophrastus\u2019s Golden\r\nBook of Marriage\u201d) quoted by Hieronymus, \u201cContra\r\nJovinianum,\u201d (\u201cAgainst Jovinian\u201d) and thence again by John of\r\nSalisbury.\r\n\r\n4. Mebles: movables, furniture, &c.; French, \u201cmeubles.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. \u201cWade\u2019s boat\u201d was called Guingelot; and in it, according to\r\nthe old romance, the owner underwent a long series of wild\r\nadventures, and performed many strange exploits.  The romance\r\nis lost, and therefore  the exact force of the phrase in the text is\r\nuncertain; but Mr Wright seems to be warranted in supposing\r\nthat Wade\u2019s adventures were cited as examples of craft and\r\ncunning \u2014 that the hero, in fact, was a kind of Northern\r\nUlysses,  It is possible that to the same source we may trace the\r\nproverbial phrase, found in Chaucer\u2019s \u201cRemedy of Love,\u201d to\r\n\u201cbear Wattis pack\u201d signifying to be duped or beguiled.\r\n\r\n6. Stopen: advanced; past participle of \u201cstep.\u201d Elsewhere\r\n\u201cy-stept in age\u201d is used by Chaucer.\r\n\r\n7. They did not need to go in quest of a wife for him, as they\r\nhad promised.\r\n\r\n8. Thilke tree: that tree of original sin, of which the special sins\r\nare the branches.\r\n\r\n9. Skinked:  poured out; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cscencan.\u201d\r\n\r\n10. Marcianus Capella, who wrote a kind of philosophical\r\nromance, \u201cDe Nuptiis Mercurii et Philologiae\u201d (Of the Marriage\r\nof Mercury and Philology) . \u201cHer\u201d and \u201chim,\u201d two lines after,\r\nlike \u201che\u201d applied to Theodomas, are prefixed to the proper\r\nnames for emphasis, according to the Anglo- Saxon usage.\r\n\r\n11. Familiar: domestic; belonging to the \u201cfamilia,\u201d or household.\r\n\r\n12. Hewe: domestic servant; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201chiwa.\u201d\r\nTyrwhitt reads \u201cfalse of holy hue;\u201d but Mr Wright has properly\r\nrestored the reading adopted in the text.\r\n\r\n13. Boren man: born; owing to January faith and loyalty\r\nbecause born in his household.\r\n\r\n14. Hippocras: spiced wine. Clarre: also a kind of spiced wine.\r\nVernage: a wine believed to have come from Crete, although its\r\nname \u2014 Italian,  \u201cVernaccia\u201d \u2014 seems to be derived from\r\nVerona.\r\n\r\n15. Dan Constantine: a medical author who wrote about 1080;\r\nhis works were printed at Basle in 1536.\r\n\r\n16. Full of jargon as a flecked pie: he chattered like a magpie\r\n\r\n17. Nearly all the manuscripts read \u201cin two of Taure;\u201d but\r\nTyrwhitt has shown that, setting out from the second degree of\r\nTaurus, the moon, which in the four complete days that Maius\r\nspent in her chamber could not have advanced more than fifty-\r\nthree degrees, would only have been at the twenty-fifth degree\r\nof Gemini \u2014 whereas, by reading \u201cten,\u201d she is brought to the\r\nthird degree of Cancer.\r\n\r\n18. Kid; or \u201ckidde,\u201d past participle of  \u201ckythe\u201d or \u201ckithe,\u201d to\r\nshow or discover.\r\n\r\n19. Precious:  precise, over-nice; French, \u201cprecieux,\u201d affected.\r\n\r\n20. Proined: or \u201cpruned;\u201d carefully trimmed and dressed\r\nhimself. The word is used in falconry of a hawk when she picks\r\nand trims her feathers.\r\n\r\n21. A dogge for the bow: a dog attending a hunter with the\r\nbow.\r\n\r\n22  The Romance of the Rose: a very popular mediaeval\r\nromance, the English version of which is partly by Chaucer. It\r\nopens with a description of a beautiful garden.\r\n\r\n23. Priapus:  Son of Bacchus and Venus: he was regarded as\r\nthe promoter of fertility in all agricultural life, vegetable and\r\nanimal; while not only gardens, but fields, flocks, bees \u2014 and\r\neven fisheries \u2014 were supposed to be under his protection.\r\n\r\n24. Argus was employed by Juno to watch Io with his hundred\r\neyes but he was sent to sleep by the flute of Mercury, who then\r\ncut off his head.\r\n\r\n25. \u201cMy beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my\r\nfair one, and come away. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is\r\nover and gone: The flowers appear on the earth, the time of the\r\nsinging of the birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard\r\nin our land.\u201d\r\n\u2014 Song of Solomon, ii. 10-12.\r\n\r\n26.                \u201cThat fair field,\r\nOf Enna, where Proserpine, gath\u2019ring flowers,\r\nHerself a fairer flow\u2019r, by gloomy Dis\r\nWas gather\u2019d.\u201d\r\n\u2014 Milton, Paradise Lost, iv. 268\r\n\r\n27. \u201cBehold, this have I found, saith the preacher, counting one\r\nby one, to find out the account:\r\nWhich yet my soul seeketh, but I find not: one man amongst a\r\nthousand have I found, but a woman among all those I have not\r\nfound.\r\nLo, this only have I found, that God hath made man upright.\u201d\r\nEcclesiastes vii. 27-29.\r\n\r\n28. Jesus, the son of Sirach, to whom is ascribed one of the\r\nbooks of the Apochrypha \u2014 that called the \u201cWisdom of Jesus\r\nthe Son of Sirach, or Ecclesiasticus;\u201d  in which, especially in the\r\nninth and twenty-fifth chapters, severe cautions are given\r\nagainst women.\r\n\r\n29. Roman gestes: histories; such as those of Lucretia, Porcia,\r\n&c.\r\n\r\n30. May means January to believe that she is pregnant, and that\r\nshe has a craving for unripe pears.\r\n\r\n31. At this point, and again some twenty lines below, several\r\nverses of a very coarse character had been inserted in later\r\nmanuscripts; but they are evidently spurious, and are omitted in\r\nthe best editions.\r\n\r\n32. \u201cStore\u201d is the general reading here, but its meaning is not\r\nobvious.  \u201cStowre\u201d is found in several manuscripts; it signifies\r\n\u201cstruggle\u201d or \u201cresist;\u201d and both for its own appropriateness, and\r\nfor the force which it gives the word \u201cstronge,\u201d the reading in\r\nthe text seems the better.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE SQUIRE\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\n\u201cHEY! Godde\u2019s mercy!\u201d said our Hoste tho,*                         *then\r\n\u201cNow such a wife I pray God keep me fro\u2019.\r\nLo, suche sleightes and subtilities\r\nIn women be; for aye as busy as bees\r\nAre they us silly men for to deceive,\r\nAnd from the soothe* will they ever weive,**     *truth **swerve, depart\r\nAs this Merchante\u2019s tale it proveth well.\r\nBut natheless, as true as any steel,\r\nI have a wife, though that she poore be;\r\nBut of her tongue a labbing* shrew is she;                   *chattering\r\nAnd yet* she hath a heap of vices mo\u2019.                         *moreover\r\nThereof *no force;* let all such thinges go.                 *no matter*\r\nBut wit* ye what? in counsel** be it said,    *know **secret, confidence\r\nMe rueth sore I am unto her tied;\r\nFor, an\u2019* I shoulde reckon every vice                                *if\r\nWhich that she hath, y-wis* I were too nice;**      *certainly **foolish\r\nAnd cause why, it should reported be\r\nAnd told her by some of this company\r\n(By whom, it needeth not for to declare,\r\nSince women connen utter such chaffare <1>),\r\nAnd eke my wit sufficeth not thereto\r\nTo tellen all; wherefore my tale is do.*                           *done\r\nSquier, come near, if it your wille be,\r\nAnd say somewhat of love, for certes ye\r\n*Conne thereon* as much as any man.\u201d                     *know about it*\r\n\u201cNay, Sir,\u201d quoth he; \u201cbut such thing as I can,\r\nWith hearty will, \u2014 for I will not rebel\r\nAgainst your lust,* \u2014 a tale will I tell.                     *pleasure\r\nHave me excused if I speak amiss;\r\nMy will is good; and lo, my tale is this.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Squire\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Women connen utter such chaffare: women are adepts at\r\ngiving circulation to such wares.  The Host evidently means that\r\nhis wife would be sure to hear of his confessions from some\r\nfemale member of the company.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.<1>\r\n\r\n*Pars Prima.*                                               *First part*\r\n\r\nAt Sarra, in the land of Tartary,\r\nThere dwelt a king that warrayed* Russie, <2>               *made war on\r\nThrough which there died many a doughty man;\r\nThis noble king was called Cambuscan,<3>\r\nWhich in his time was of so great renown,\r\nThat there was nowhere in no regioun\r\nSo excellent a lord in alle thing:\r\nHim lacked nought that longeth to a king,\r\nAs of the sect of which that he was born.\r\nHe kept his law to which he was y-sworn,\r\nAnd thereto* he was hardy, wise, and rich,            *moreover, besides\r\nAnd piteous and just, always y-lich;*              *alike, even-tempered\r\nTrue of his word, benign and honourable;\r\n*Of his corage as any centre stable;*        *firm, immovable of spirit*\r\nYoung, fresh, and strong, in armes desirous\r\nAs any bachelor of all his house.\r\nA fair person he was, and fortunate,\r\nAnd kept alway so well his royal estate,\r\nThat there was nowhere such another man.\r\nThis noble king, this Tartar Cambuscan,\r\nHadde two sons by Elfeta his wife,\r\nOf which the eldest highte Algarsife,\r\nThe other was y-called Camballo.\r\nA daughter had this worthy king also,\r\nThat youngest was, and highte Canace:\r\nBut for to telle you all her beauty,\r\nIt lies not in my tongue, nor my conning;*                        *skill\r\nI dare not undertake so high a thing:\r\nMine English eke is insufficient,\r\nIt muste be a rhetor* excellent,                                 *orator\r\n*That couth his colours longing for that art,*                * see <4>*\r\nIf he should her describen any part;\r\nI am none such, I must speak as I can.\r\n\r\nAnd so befell, that when this Cambuscan\r\nHad twenty winters borne his diadem,\r\nAs he was wont from year to year, I deem,\r\nHe let *the feast of his nativity*                  *his birthday party*\r\n*Do crye,* throughout Sarra his city,                    *be proclaimed*\r\nThe last Idus of March, after the year.\r\nPhoebus the sun full jolly was and clear,\r\nFor he was nigh his exaltation\r\nIn Marte\u2019s face, and in his mansion <5>\r\nIn Aries, the choleric hot sign:\r\nFull lusty* was the weather and benign;                        *pleasant\r\nFor which the fowls against the sunne sheen,*                    *bright\r\nWhat for the season and the younge green,\r\nFull loude sange their affections:\r\nThem seemed to have got protections\r\nAgainst the sword of winter keen and cold.\r\nThis Cambuscan, of which I have you told,\r\nIn royal vesture, sat upon his dais,\r\nWith diadem, full high in his palace;\r\nAnd held his feast so solemn and so rich,\r\nThat in this worlde was there none it lich.*                       *like\r\nOf which if I should tell all the array,\r\nThen would it occupy a summer\u2019s day;\r\nAnd eke it needeth not for to devise*                          *describe\r\nAt every course the order of service.\r\nI will not tellen of their strange sewes,*                   *dishes <6>\r\nNor of their swannes, nor their heronsews.*            *young herons <7>\r\nEke in that land, as telle knightes old,\r\nThere is some meat that is full dainty hold,\r\nThat in this land men *reck of* it full small:                *care for*\r\nThere is no man that may reporten all.\r\nI will not tarry you, for it is prime,\r\nAnd for it is no fruit, but loss of time;\r\nUnto my purpose* I will have recourse.                        *story <8>\r\nAnd so befell that, after the third course,\r\nWhile that this king sat thus in his nobley,*               *noble array\r\nHearing his ministreles their thinges play\r\nBefore him at his board deliciously,\r\nIn at the halle door all suddenly\r\nThere came a knight upon a steed of brass,\r\nAnd in his hand a broad mirror of glass;\r\nUpon his thumb he had of gold a ring,\r\nAnd by his side a naked sword hanging:\r\nAnd up he rode unto the highe board.\r\nIn all the hall was there not spoke a word,\r\nFor marvel of this knight; him to behold\r\nFull busily they waited,* young and old.                        *watched\r\n\r\nThis strange knight, that came thus suddenly,\r\nAll armed, save his head, full richely,\r\nSaluted king, and queen, and lordes all,\r\nBy order as they satten in the hall,\r\nWith so high reverence and observance,\r\nAs well in speech as in his countenance,\r\nThat Gawain <9> with his olde courtesy,\r\nThough he were come again out of Faerie,\r\nHim *coulde not amende with a word.*               *could not better him\r\nAnd after this, before the highe board,                     by one word*\r\nHe with a manly voice said his message,\r\nAfter the form used in his language,\r\nWithoute vice* of syllable or letter.                             *fault\r\nAnd, for his tale shoulde seem the better,\r\nAccordant to his worde\u2019s was his cheer,*                      *demeanour\r\nAs teacheth art of speech them that it lear.*                     *learn\r\nAlbeit that I cannot sound his style,\r\nNor cannot climb over so high a stile,\r\nYet say I this, as to *commune intent,*       *general sense or meaning*\r\n*Thus much amounteth* all that ever he meant,       *this is the sum of*\r\nIf it so be that I have it in mind.\r\nHe said; \u201cThe king of Araby and Ind,\r\nMy liege lord, on this solemne day\r\nSaluteth you as he best can and may,\r\nAnd sendeth you, in honour of your feast,\r\nBy me, that am all ready at your hest,*                         *command\r\nThis steed of brass, that easily and well\r\nCan in the space of one day naturel\r\n(This is to say, in four-and-twenty hours),\r\nWhereso you list, in drought or else in show\u2019rs,\r\nBeare your body into every place\r\nTo which your hearte willeth for to pace,*                     *pass, go\r\nWithoute wem* of you, through foul or fair.                *hurt, injury\r\nOr if you list to fly as high in air\r\nAs doth an eagle, when him list to soar,\r\nThis same steed shall bear you evermore\r\nWithoute harm, till ye be where *you lest*              *it pleases you*\r\n(Though that ye sleepen on his back, or rest),\r\nAnd turn again, with writhing* of a pin.                       *twisting\r\nHe that it wrought, he coude* many a gin;**     *knew **contrivance <10>\r\nHe waited* in any a constellation,                             *observed\r\nEre he had done this operation,\r\nAnd knew full many a seal <11> and many a bond\r\nThis mirror eke, that I have in mine hond,\r\nHath such a might, that men may in it see\r\nWhen there shall fall any adversity\r\nUnto your realm, or to yourself also,\r\nAnd openly who is your friend or foe.\r\nAnd over all this, if any lady bright\r\nHath set her heart on any manner wight,\r\nIf he be false, she shall his treason see,\r\nHis newe love, and all his subtlety,\r\nSo openly that there shall nothing hide.\r\nWherefore, against this lusty summer-tide,\r\nThis mirror, and this ring that ye may see,\r\nHe hath sent to my lady Canace,\r\nYour excellente daughter that is here.\r\nThe virtue of this ring, if ye will hear,\r\nIs this, that if her list it for to wear\r\nUpon her thumb, or in her purse it bear,\r\nThere is no fowl that flyeth under heaven,\r\nThat she shall not well understand his steven,*           *speech, sound\r\nAnd know his meaning openly and plain,\r\nAnd answer him in his language again:\r\nAnd every grass that groweth upon root\r\nShe shall eke know, to whom it will do boot,*                    *remedy\r\nAll be his woundes ne\u2019er so deep and wide.\r\nThis naked sword, that hangeth by my side,\r\nSuch virtue hath, that what man that it smite,\r\nThroughout his armour it will carve and bite,\r\nWere it as thick as is a branched oak:\r\nAnd what man is y-wounded with the stroke\r\nShall ne\u2019er be whole, till that you list, of grace,\r\nTo stroke him with the flat in thilke* place                   *the same\r\nWhere he is hurt; this is as much to sayn,\r\nYe muste with the flatte sword again\r\nStroke him upon the wound, and it will close.\r\nThis is the very sooth, withoute glose;*                         *deceit\r\nIt faileth not, while it is in your hold.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd when this knight had thus his tale told,\r\nHe rode out of the hall, and down he light.\r\nHis steede, which that shone as sunne bright,\r\nStood in the court as still as any stone.\r\nThe knight is to his chamber led anon,\r\nAnd is unarmed, and to meat y-set.*                              *seated\r\nThese presents be full richely y-fet,* \u2014                       *fetched\r\nThis is to say, the sword and the mirrour, \u2014\r\nAnd borne anon into the highe tow\u2019r,\r\nWith certain officers ordain\u2019d therefor;\r\nAnd unto Canace the ring is bore\r\nSolemnely, where she sat at the table;\r\nBut sickerly, withouten any fable,\r\nThe horse of brass, that may not be remued.*               *removed <12>\r\nIt stood as it were to the ground y-glued;\r\nThere may no man out of the place it drive\r\nFor no engine of windlass or polive; *                           *pulley\r\nAnd cause why, for they *can not the craft;*       *know not the cunning\r\nAnd therefore in the place they have it laft,          of the mechanism*\r\nTill that the knight hath taught them the mannere\r\nTo voide* him, as ye shall after hear.                           *remove\r\n\r\nGreat was the press, that swarmed to and fro\r\nTo gauren* on this horse that stoode so:                           *gaze\r\nFor it so high was, and so broad and long,\r\nSo well proportioned for to be strong,\r\nRight as it were a steed of Lombardy;\r\nTherewith so horsely, and so quick of eye,\r\nAs it a gentle Poileis <13> courser were:\r\nFor certes, from his tail unto his ear\r\nNature nor art ne could him not amend\r\nIn no degree, as all the people wend.*                  *weened, thought\r\nBut evermore their moste wonder was\r\nHow that it coulde go, and was of brass;\r\nIt was of Faerie, as the people seem\u2019d.\r\nDiverse folk diversely they deem\u2019d;\r\nAs many heads, as many wittes been.\r\nThey murmured, as doth a swarm of been,*                           *bees\r\nAnd made skills* after their fantasies,                         *reasons\r\nRehearsing of the olde poetries,\r\nAnd said that it was like the Pegasee,*                         *Pegasus\r\nThe horse that hadde winges for to flee;*                           *fly\r\nOr else it was the Greeke\u2019s horse Sinon,<14>\r\nThat broughte Troye to destruction,\r\nAs men may in the olde gestes* read.                *tales of adventures\r\nMine heart,\u201d quoth one, \u201cis evermore in dread;\r\nI trow some men of armes be therein,\r\nThat shape* them this city for to win:                  *design, prepare\r\nIt were right good that all such thing were know.\u201d\r\nAnother rowned* to his fellow low,                            *whispered\r\nAnd said, \u201cHe lies; for it is rather like\r\nAn apparence made by some magic,\r\nAs jugglers playen at these feastes great.\u201d\r\nOf sundry doubts they jangle thus and treat.\r\nAs lewed* people deeme commonly                                *ignorant\r\nOf thinges that be made more subtilly\r\nThan they can in their lewdness comprehend;\r\nThey *deeme gladly to the badder end.*               *are ready to think\r\nAnd some of them wonder\u2019d on the mirrour,                     the worst*\r\nThat borne was up into the master* tow\u2019r,                    *chief <15>\r\nHow men might in it suche thinges see.\r\nAnother answer\u2019d and said, it might well be\r\nNaturally by compositions\r\nOf angles, and of sly reflections;\r\nAnd saide that in Rome was such a one.\r\nThey speak of Alhazen and Vitellon,<16>\r\nAnd Aristotle, that wrote in their lives\r\nOf quainte* mirrors, and of prospectives,                       *curious\r\nAs knowe they that have their bookes heard.\r\nAnd other folk have wonder\u2019d on the swerd,*                       *sword\r\nThat woulde pierce throughout every thing;\r\nAnd fell in speech of Telephus the king,\r\nAnd of Achilles for his quainte spear, <17>\r\nFor he could with it bothe heal and dere,*                        *wound\r\nRight in such wise as men may with the swerd\r\nOf which right now ye have yourselves heard.\r\nThey spake of sundry hard\u2019ning of metal,\r\nAnd spake of medicines therewithal,\r\nAnd how, and when, it shoulde harden\u2019d be,\r\nWhich is unknowen algate* unto me.                              *however\r\nThen spake they of Canacee\u2019s ring,\r\nAnd saiden all, that such a wondrous thing\r\nOf craft of rings heard they never none,\r\nSave that he, Moses, and King Solomon,\r\nHadden *a name of conning* in such art.                *a reputation for\r\nThus said the people, and drew them apart.                    knowledge*\r\nPut natheless some saide that it was\r\nWonder to maken of fern ashes glass,\r\nAnd yet is glass nought like ashes of fern;\r\n*But for* they have y-knowen it so ferne**        *because **before <18>\r\nTherefore ceaseth their jangling and their wonder.\r\nAs sore wonder some on cause of thunder,\r\nOn ebb and flood, on gossamer and mist,\r\nAnd on all things, till that the cause is wist.*                  *known\r\nThus jangle they, and deemen and devise,\r\nTill that the king gan from his board arise.\r\n\r\nPhoebus had left the angle meridional,\r\nAnd yet ascending was the beast royal,\r\nThe gentle Lion, with his Aldrian, <19>\r\nWhen that this Tartar king, this Cambuscan,\r\nRose from the board, there as he sat full high\r\nBefore him went the loude minstrelsy,\r\nTill he came to his chamber of parements,<20>\r\nThere as they sounded diverse instruments,\r\nThat it was like a heaven for to hear.\r\nNow danced lusty Venus\u2019 children dear:\r\nFor in the Fish* their lady sat full                             *Pisces\r\nAnd looked on them with a friendly eye. <21>\r\nThis noble king is set upon his throne;\r\nThis strange knight is fetched to him full sone,*                  *soon\r\nAnd on the dance he goes with Canace.\r\nHere is the revel and the jollity,\r\nThat is not able a dull man to devise:*                        *describe\r\nHe must have knowen love and his service,\r\nAnd been a feastly* man, as fresh as May,                    *merry, gay\r\nThat shoulde you devise such array.\r\nWho coulde telle you the form of dances\r\nSo uncouth,* and so freshe countenances**          *unfamliar **gestures\r\nSuch subtle lookings and dissimulances,\r\nFor dread of jealous men\u2019s apperceivings?\r\nNo man but Launcelot,<22> and he is dead.\r\nTherefore I pass o\u2019er all this lustihead*                  *pleasantness\r\nI say no more, but in this jolliness\r\nI leave them, till to supper men them dress.\r\nThe steward bids the spices for to hie*                           *haste\r\nAnd eke the wine, in all this melody;\r\nThe ushers and the squiers be y-gone,\r\nThe spices and the wine is come anon;\r\nThey eat and drink, and when this hath an end,\r\nUnto the temple, as reason was, they wend;\r\nThe service done, they suppen all by day\r\nWhat needeth you rehearse their array?\r\nEach man wot well, that at a kinge\u2019s feast\r\nIs plenty, to the most*, and to the least,                      *highest\r\nAnd dainties more than be in my knowing.\r\n\r\nAt after supper went this noble king\r\nTo see the horse of brass, with all a rout\r\nOf lordes and of ladies him about.\r\nSuch wond\u2019ring was there on this horse of brass,\r\nThat, since the great siege of Troye was,\r\nThere as men wonder\u2019d on a horse also,\r\nNe\u2019er was there such a wond\u2019ring as was tho.*                     *there\r\nBut finally the king asked the knight\r\nThe virtue of this courser, and the might,\r\nAnd prayed him to tell his governance.*            *mode of managing him\r\nThe horse anon began to trip and dance,\r\nWhen that the knight laid hand upon his rein,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cSir, there is no more to sayn,\r\nBut when you list to riden anywhere,\r\nYe muste trill* a pin, stands in his ear,                     *turn <23>\r\nWhich I shall telle you betwixt us two;\r\nYe muste name him to what place also,\r\nOr to what country that you list to ride.\r\nAnd when ye come where you list abide,\r\nBid him descend, and trill another pin\r\n(For therein lies th\u2019 effect of all the gin*),         *contrivance <10>\r\nAnd he will down descend and do your will,\r\nAnd in that place he will abide still;\r\nThough all the world had the contrary swore,\r\nHe shall not thence be throwen nor be bore.\r\nOr, if you list to bid him thennes gon,\r\nTrill this pin, and he will vanish anon\r\nOut of the sight of every manner wight,\r\nAnd come again, be it by day or night,\r\nWhen that you list to clepe* him again                             *call\r\nIn such a guise, as I shall to you sayn\r\nBetwixte you and me, and that full soon.\r\nRide <24> when you list, there is no more to do\u2019n.\u2019\r\nInformed when the king was of the knight,\r\nAnd had conceived in his wit aright\r\nThe manner and the form of all this thing,\r\nFull glad and blithe, this noble doughty king\r\nRepaired to his revel as beforn.\r\nThe bridle is into the tower borne,\r\nAnd kept among his jewels lefe* and dear;                     *cherished\r\nThe horse vanish\u2019d, I n\u2019ot* in what mannere,                   *know not\r\nOut of their sight; ye get no more of me:\r\nBut thus I leave in lust and jollity\r\nThis Cambuscan his lordes feastying,*                 *entertaining <25>\r\nUntil well nigh the day began to spring.\r\n\r\n*Pars Secunda.*                                            *Second Part*\r\n\r\nThe norice* of digestion, the sleep,                              *nurse\r\nGan on them wink, and bade them take keep,*                        *heed\r\nThat muche mirth and labour will have rest.\r\nAnd with a gaping* mouth he all them kest,**           *yawning **kissed\r\nAnd said, that it was time to lie down,\r\nFor blood was in his dominatioun: <26>\r\n\u201cCherish the blood, nature\u2019s friend,\u201d quoth he.\r\nThey thanked him gaping, by two and three;\r\nAnd every wight gan draw him to his rest;\r\nAs sleep them bade, they took it for the best.\r\nTheir dreames shall not now be told for me;\r\nFull are their heades of fumosity,<27>\r\nThat caused dreams *of which there is no charge:*   *of no significance*\r\nThey slepte; till that, it was *prime large,*             *late morning*\r\nThe moste part, but* it was Canace;                              *except\r\nShe was full measurable,* as women be:                         *moderate\r\nFor of her father had she ta\u2019en her leave\r\nTo go to rest, soon after it was eve;\r\nHer liste not appalled* for to be;                         *to look pale\r\nNor on the morrow *unfeastly for to see;*       *to look sad, depressed*\r\nAnd slept her firste sleep; and then awoke.\r\nFor such a joy she in her hearte took\r\nBoth of her quainte a ring and her mirrour,.\r\nThat twenty times she changed her colour;\r\nAnd in her sleep, right for th\u2019 impression\r\nOf her mirror, she had a vision.\r\nWherefore, ere that the sunne gan up glide,\r\nShe call\u2019d upon her mistress\u2019* her beside,                  *governesses\r\nAnd saide, that her liste for to rise.\r\n\r\nThese olde women, that be gladly wise\r\nAs are her mistresses answer\u2019d anon,\r\nAnd said; \u201cMadame, whither will ye gon\r\nThus early? for the folk be all in rest.\u201d\r\n\u201cI will,\u201d quoth she, \u201carise; for me lest\r\nNo longer for to sleep, and walk about.\u201d\r\nHer mistresses call\u2019d women a great rout,\r\nAnd up they rose, well a ten or twelve;\r\nUp rose freshe Canace herselve,\r\nAs ruddy and bright as is the yonnge sun\r\nThat in the Ram is four degrees y-run;\r\nNo higher was he, when she ready was;\r\nAnd forth she walked easily a pace,\r\nArray\u2019d after the lusty* season swoot,**               *pleasant **sweet\r\nLightely for to play, and walk on foot,\r\nNought but with five or six of her meinie;\r\nAnd in a trench* forth in the park went she.                *sunken path\r\nThe vapour, which up from the earthe glode,*                     *glided\r\nMade the sun to seem ruddy and broad:\r\nBut, natheless, it was so fair a sight\r\nThat it made all their heartes for to light,*        *be lightened, glad\r\nWhat for the season and the morrowning,\r\nAnd for the fowles that she hearde sing.\r\nFor right anon she wiste* what they meant                          *knew\r\nRight by their song, and knew all their intent.\r\nThe knotte,* why that every tale is told,         *nucleus, chief matter\r\nIf it be tarried* till the list* be cold         *delayed  **inclination\r\nOf them that have it hearken\u2019d *after yore,*           *for a long time*\r\nThe savour passeth ever longer more;\r\nFor fulsomness of the prolixity:\r\nAnd by that same reason thinketh me.\r\nI shoulde unto the knotte condescend,\r\nAnd maken of her walking soon an end.\r\n\r\nAmid a tree fordry*, as white as chalk,             *thoroughly dried up\r\nThere sat a falcon o\u2019er her head full high,\r\nThat with a piteous voice so gan to cry;\r\nThat all the wood resounded of her cry,\r\nAnd beat she had herself so piteously\r\nWith both her winges, till the redde blood\r\nRan endelong* the tree, there as she stood           *from top to bottom\r\nAnd ever-in-one* alway she cried and shright;**  *incessantly **shrieked\r\nAnd with her beak herselfe she so pight,*                       *wounded\r\nThat there is no tiger, nor cruel beast,\r\nThat dwelleth either in wood or in forest;\r\nBut would have wept, if that he weepe could,\r\nFor sorrow of her; she shriek\u2019d alway so loud.\r\nFor there was never yet no man alive,\r\nIf that he could a falcon well descrive;*                      *describe\r\nThat heard of such another of fairness\r\nAs well of plumage, as of gentleness;\r\nOf shape, of all that mighte reckon\u2019d be.\r\nA falcon peregrine seemed she,\r\nOf fremde* land; and ever as she stood                     *foreign <28>\r\nShe swooned now and now for lack of blood;\r\nTill well-nigh is she fallen from the tree.\r\n\r\nThis faire kinge\u2019s daughter Canace,\r\nThat on her finger bare the quainte ring,\r\nThrough which she understood well every  thing\r\nThat any fowl may in his leden* sayn,                    **language <29>\r\nAnd could him answer in his leden again;\r\nHath understoode what this falcon said,\r\nAnd well-nigh for the ruth* almost she died;.                      *pity\r\nAnd to the tree she went, full hastily,\r\nAnd on this falcon looked piteously;\r\nAnd held her lap abroad; for well she wist\r\nThe falcon muste falle from the twist*                      *twig, bough\r\nWhen that she swooned next, for lack of blood.\r\nA longe while to waite her she stood;\r\nTill at the last she apake in this mannere\r\nUnto the hawk, as ye shall after hear:\r\n\u201cWhat is the cause, if it be for to tell,\r\nThat ye be in this furial* pain of hell?\u201d               *raging, furious\r\nQuoth Canace unto this hawk above;\r\n\u201cIs this for sorrow of of death; or loss of love?\r\nFor; as I trow,* these be the causes two;                       *believe\r\nThat cause most a gentle hearte woe:\r\nOf other harm it needeth not to speak.\r\nFor ye yourself upon yourself awreak;*                          *inflict\r\nWhich proveth well, that either ire or dread*                      *fear\r\nMust be occasion of your cruel deed,\r\nSince that I see none other wight you chase:\r\nFor love of God, as *do yourselfe grace;*                 *have mercy on\r\nOr what may be your help? for, west nor east,                  yourself*\r\nI never saw ere now no bird nor beast\r\nThat fared with himself so piteously\r\nYe slay me with your sorrow verily;\r\nI have of you so great compassioun.\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love come from the tree adown\r\nAnd, as I am a kinge\u2019s daughter true,\r\nIf that I verily the causes knew\r\nOf your disease,* if it lay in my might,                       *distress\r\nI would amend it, ere that it were night,\r\nSo wisly help me the great God of kind.**               *surely **nature\r\nAnd herbes shall I right enoughe find,\r\nTo heale with your hurtes hastily.\u201d\r\nThen shriek\u2019d this falcon yet more piteously\r\nThan ever she did, and fell to ground anon,\r\nAnd lay aswoon, as dead as lies a stone,\r\nTill Canace had in her lap her take,\r\nUnto that time she gan of swoon awake:\r\nAnd, after that she out of swoon abraid,*                         *awoke\r\nRight in her hawke\u2019s leden thus she said:\r\n\r\n\u201cThat pity runneth soon in gentle heart\r\n(Feeling his simil\u2019tude in paines smart),\r\nIs proved every day, as men may see,\r\nAs well *by work as by authority;*        *by experience as by doctrine*\r\nFor gentle hearte kitheth* gentleness.                          *sheweth\r\nI see well, that ye have on my distress\r\nCompassion, my faire Canace,\r\nOf very womanly benignity\r\nThat nature in your princples hath set.\r\nBut for no hope for to fare the bet,*                            *better\r\nBut for t\u2019 obey unto your hearte free,\r\nAnd for to make others aware by me,\r\nAs by the whelp chastis\u2019d* is the lion,           *instructed, corrected\r\nRight for that cause and that conclusion,\r\nWhile that I have a leisure and a space,\r\nMine harm I will confessen ere I pace.\u201d*                         *depart\r\nAnd ever while the one her sorrow told,\r\nThe other wept, *as she to water wo\u2019ld,*       *as if she would dissolve\r\nTill that the falcon bade her to be still,                   into water*\r\nAnd with a sigh right thus she said *her till:*                 *to her*\r\n\u201cWhere I was bred (alas that ilke* day!)                           *same\r\nAnd foster\u2019d in a rock of marble gray\r\nSo tenderly, that nothing ailed me,\r\nI wiste* not what was adversity,                                   *knew\r\nTill I could flee* full high under the sky.                         *fly\r\nThen dwell\u2019d a tercelet <30> me faste by,\r\nThat seem\u2019d a well of alle gentleness;\r\n*All were he* full of treason and falseness,           *although he was*\r\nIt was so wrapped *under humble cheer,*                 *under an aspect\r\nAnd under hue of truth, in such mannere,                    of humility*\r\nUnder pleasance, and under busy pain,\r\nThat no wight weened that he coulde feign,\r\nSo deep in grain he dyed his colours.\r\nRight as a serpent hides him under flow\u2019rs,\r\nTill he may see his time for to bite,\r\nRight so this god of love\u2019s hypocrite\r\nDid so his ceremonies and obeisances,\r\nAnd kept in semblance all his observances,\r\nThat *sounden unto* gentleness of love.               *are consonant to*\r\nAs on a tomb is all the fair above,\r\nAnd under is the corpse, which that ye wet,\r\nSuch was this hypocrite, both cold and hot;\r\nAnd in this wise he served his intent,\r\nThat, save the fiend, none wiste what he meant:\r\nTill he so long had weeped and complain\u2019d,\r\nAnd many a year his service to me feign\u2019d,\r\nTill that mine heart, too piteous and too nice,*        *foolish, simple\r\nAll innocent of his crowned malice,\r\n*Forfeared of his death,* as thoughte me,           *greatly afraid lest\r\nUpon his oathes and his surety                            he should die*\r\nGranted him love, on this conditioun,\r\nThat evermore mine honour and renown\r\nWere saved, bothe *privy and apert;*           *privately and in public*\r\nThis is to say, that, after his desert,\r\nI gave him all my heart and all my thought\r\n(God wot, and he, that *other wayes nought*),          *in no other way*\r\nAnd took his heart in change of mine for aye.\r\nBut sooth is said, gone since many a day,\r\nA true wight and a thiefe *think not one.*          *do not think alike*\r\nAnd when he saw the thing so far y-gone,\r\nThat I had granted him fully my love,\r\nIn such a wise as I have said above,\r\nAnd given him my true heart as free\r\nAs he swore that he gave his heart to me,\r\nAnon this tiger, full of doubleness,\r\nFell on his knees with so great humbleness,\r\nWith so high reverence, as by his cheer,*                          *mien\r\nSo like a gentle lover in mannere,\r\nSo ravish\u2019d, as it seemed, for the joy,\r\nThat never Jason, nor Paris of Troy, \u2014\r\nJason? certes, nor ever other man,\r\nSince Lamech <31> was, that alderfirst* began              *first of all\r\nTo love two, as write folk beforn,\r\nNor ever since the firste man was born,\r\nCoulde no man, by twenty thousand\r\nCounterfeit the sophimes* of his art;         *sophistries, beguilements\r\nWhere doubleness of feigning should approach,\r\nNor worthy were t\u2019unbuckle his galoche,*                      *shoe <32>\r\nNor could so thank a wight, as he did me.\r\nHis manner was a heaven for to see\r\nTo any woman, were she ne\u2019er so wise;\r\nSo painted he and kempt,* *at point devise,*            *combed, studied\r\nAs well his wordes as his countenance.          *with perfect precision*\r\nAnd I so lov\u2019d him for his obeisance,\r\nAnd for the truth I deemed in his heart,\r\nThat, if so were that any thing him smart,*                      *pained\r\nAll were it ne\u2019er so lite,* and I it wist,                       *little\r\nMethought I felt death at my hearte twist.\r\nAnd shortly, so farforth this thing is went,*                      *gone\r\nThat my will was his wille\u2019s instrument;\r\nThat is to say, my will obey\u2019d his will\r\nIn alle thing, as far as reason fill,*                    *fell; allowed\r\nKeeping the boundes of my worship ever;\r\nAnd never had I thing *so lefe, or lever,*          *so dear, or dearer*\r\nAs him, God wot, nor never shall no mo\u2019.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis lasted longer than a year or two,\r\nThat I supposed of him naught but good.\r\nBut finally, thus at the last it stood,\r\nThat fortune woulde that he muste twin*                *depart, separate\r\nOut of that place which that I was in.\r\nWhe\u2019er* me was woe, it is no question;                          *whether\r\nI cannot make of it description.\r\nFor one thing dare I telle boldely,\r\nI know what is the pain of death thereby;\r\nSuch harm I felt, for he might not byleve.*                   *stay <33>\r\nSo on a day of me he took his leave,\r\nSo sorrowful eke, that I ween\u2019d verily,\r\nThat he had felt as muche harm as I,\r\nWhen that I heard him speak, and saw his hue.\r\nBut natheless, I thought he was so true,\r\nAnd eke that he repaire should again\r\nWithin a little while, sooth to sayn,\r\nAnd reason would eke that he muste go\r\nFor his honour, as often happ\u2019neth so,\r\nThat I made virtue of necessity,\r\nAnd took it well, since that it muste be.\r\nAs I best might, I hid from him my sorrow,\r\nAnd took him by the hand, Saint John to borrow,*        *witness, pledge\r\nAnd said him thus; \u2018Lo, I am youres all;\r\nBe such as I have been to you, and shall.\u2019\r\nWhat he answer\u2019d, it needs not to rehearse;\r\nWho can say bet* than he, who can do worse?                      *better\r\nWhen he had all well said, then had he done.\r\nTherefore behoveth him a full long spoon,\r\nThat shall eat with a fiend; thus heard I say.\r\nSo at the last he muste forth his way,\r\nAnd forth he flew, till he came where him lest.\r\nWhen it came him to purpose for to rest,\r\nI trow that he had thilke text in mind,\r\nThat alle thing repairing to his kind\r\nGladdeth himself; <34> thus say men, as I guess;\r\n*Men love of [proper] kind newfangleness,*               *see note <35>*\r\nAs birdes do, that men in cages feed.\r\nFor though thou night and day take of them heed,\r\nAnd strew their cage fair and soft as silk,\r\nAnd give them sugar, honey, bread, and milk,\r\nYet, *right anon as that his door is up,*            *immediately on his\r\nHe with his feet will spurne down his cup,            door being opened*\r\nAnd to the wood he will, and wormes eat;\r\nSo newefangle be they of their meat,\r\nAnd love novelties, of proper kind;\r\nNo gentleness of bloode may them bind.\r\nSo far\u2019d this tercelet, alas the day!\r\nThough he were gentle born, and fresh, and gay,\r\nAnd goodly for to see, and humble, and free,\r\nHe saw upon a time a kite flee,*                                    *fly\r\nAnd suddenly he loved this kite so,\r\nThat all his love is clean from me y-go:\r\nAnd hath his trothe falsed in this wise.\r\nThus hath the kite my love in her service,\r\nAnd I am lorn* withoute remedy.\u201d                           *lost, undone\r\n\r\nAnd with that word this falcon gan to cry,\r\nAnd swooned eft* in Canacee\u2019s barme**                       *again **lap\r\nGreat was the sorrow, for that hawke\u2019s harm,\r\nThat Canace and all her women made;\r\nThey wist not how they might the falcon glade.*                 *gladden\r\nBut Canace home bare her in her lap,\r\nAnd softely in plasters gan her wrap,\r\nThere as she with her beak had hurt herselve.\r\nNow cannot Canace but herbes delve\r\nOut of the ground, and make salves new\r\nOf herbes precious and fine of hue,\r\nTo heale with this hawk; from day to night\r\nShe did her business, and all her might.\r\nAnd by her bedde\u2019s head she made a mew,*                      *bird cage\r\nAnd cover\u2019d it with velouettes* blue,<36>                       *velvets\r\nIn sign of truth that is in woman seen;\r\nAnd all without the mew is painted green,\r\nIn which were painted all these false fowls,\r\nAs be these tidifes,* tercelets, and owls;                      *titmice\r\nAnd pies, on them for to cry and chide,\r\nRight for despite were painted them beside.\r\n\r\nThus leave I Canace her hawk keeping.\r\nI will no more as now speak of her ring,\r\nTill it come eft* to purpose for to sayn                          *again\r\nHow that this falcon got her love again\r\nRepentant, as the story telleth us,\r\nBy mediation of Camballus,\r\nThe kinge\u2019s son of which that I you told.\r\nBut henceforth I will my process hold\r\nTo speak of aventures, and of battailes,\r\nThat yet was never heard so great marvailles.\r\nFirst I will telle you of Cambuscan,\r\nThat in his time many a city wan;\r\nAnd after will I speak of Algarsife,\r\nHow he won Theodora to his wife,\r\nFor whom full oft in great peril he was,\r\n*N\u2019had he* been holpen by the horse of brass.               *had he not*\r\nAnd after will I speak of Camballo, <37>\r\nThat fought in listes with the brethren two\r\nFor Canace, ere that he might her win;\r\nAnd where I left I will again begin.\r\n        .        .        .        .     <38>\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Squire\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Squire\u2019s Tale has not been found under any other form\r\namong the literary remains of the Middle Ages; and it is\r\nunknown from what original it was derived, if from any. The\r\nTale is unfinished, not because the conclusion has been lost, but\r\nbecause the author left it so.\r\n\r\n2. The Russians and Tartars waged constant hostilities between\r\nthe thirteenth and sixteenth centuries.\r\n\r\n3. In the best manuscripts the name is \u201cCambynskan,\u201d and thus,\r\nno doubt, it should strictly be read. But it is a most pardonable\r\noffence against literal accuracy to use the word which Milton\r\nhas made classical, in \u201cIl Penseroso,\u201d speaking of\r\n\r\n           \u201chim that left half-told\r\nThe story of Cambuscan bold,\r\nOf Camball, and of Algarsife,\r\nAnd who had Canace to wife,\r\nThat owned the virtuous Ring and Glass,\r\nAnd of the wondrous Horse of Brass,\r\nOn which the Tartar King did ride\u201d\r\n\r\nSurely the admiration of Milton might well seem to the spirit of\r\nChaucer to condone a much greater transgression on his domain\r\nthan this verbal change \u2014 which to both eye and ear is an\r\nunquestionable improvement on the uncouth original.\r\n\r\n4. Couth his colours longing for that art: well skilled in using\r\nthe colours \u2014 the word-painting \u2014 belonging to his art.\r\n\r\n5. Aries was the mansion of Mars \u2014 to whom \u201chis\u201d applies.\r\nLeo was the mansion of the Sun.\r\n\r\n6. Sewes:  Dishes, or soups. The precise force of the word is\r\nuncertain; but it may be connected with \u201cseethe,\u201d to boil, and it\r\nseems to describe a dish in which the flesh was served up amid a\r\nkind of broth or gravy. The \u201csewer,\u201d taster or assayer of the\r\nviands served at great tables, probably derived his name from\r\nthe verb to \u201csay\u201d or \u201cassay;\u201d though Tyrwhitt would connect\r\nthe two words, by taking both from the French, \u201casseoir,\u201d to\r\nplace \u2014 making the arrangement of the table the leading duty of\r\nthe \u201csewer,\u201d rather than the testing of the food.\r\n\r\n7. Heronsews: young herons; French, \u201cheronneaux.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Purpose: story, discourse; French, \u201cpropos.\u201d\r\n\r\n9. Gawain was celebrated in mediaeval romance as the most\r\ncourteous among King Arthur\u2019s knights.\r\n\r\n10. Gin: contrivance; trick; snare. Compare Italian, \u201cinganno,\u201d\r\ndeception; and our own \u201cengine.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Mr Wright remarks that \u201cthe making and arrangement of\r\nseals was one of the important operations of mediaeval magic.\u201d\r\n\r\n12. Remued: removed; French, \u201cremuer,\u201d to stir.\r\n\r\n13. Polies:  Apulian. The horses of Apulia \u2014 in old French\r\n\u201cPoille,\u201d in Italian \u201cPuglia\u201d \u2014 were held in high value.\r\n\r\n14. The Greeke\u2019s horse Sinon: the wooden horse of the Greek\r\nSinon, introduced  into Troy by the stratagem of its maker.\r\n\r\n15. Master tower: chief tower; as, in the Knight\u2019s Tale, the\r\nprincipal street is called the \u201cmaster street.\u201d  See note 86 to the\r\nKnight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n16. Alhazen and Vitellon: two writers on optics \u2014 the first\r\nsupposed to have lived about 1100, the other about 1270.\r\nTyrwhitt says that their works were printed at Basle in 1572,\r\nunder the title \u201cAlhazeni et Vitellonis Opticae.\u201d\r\n\r\n17. Telephus, a son of Hercules, reigned over Mysia when the\r\nGreeks came to besiege Troy, and he sought to prevent their\r\nlanding.  But, by the art of Dionysus, he was made to stumble\r\nover a vine, and Achilles wounded him with his spear.  The\r\noracle informed Telephus that the hurt could be healed only by\r\nhim, or by the weapon, that inflicted it; and the king, seeking\r\nthe Grecian camp, was healed by Achilles with the rust of the\r\ncharmed spear.\r\n\r\n18. Ferne: before; a corruption of \u201cforne,\u201d from Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cforan.\u201d\r\n\r\n19. Aldrian: or Aldebaran; a star in the neck of the constellation\r\nLeo.\r\n\r\n20. Chamber of parements:  Presence-chamber, or chamber of\r\nstate, full of  splendid furniture and ornaments. The same\r\nexpression is used in French and Italian.\r\n\r\n21. In Pisces, Venus was said to be at her exaltation or greatest\r\npower. A planet, according to the old astrologers, was in\r\n\u201cexaltation\u201d when in the sign of the Zodiac in which it exerted\r\nits strongest influence; the opposite sign, in which it was\r\nweakest, was called its \u201cdejection.\u201d\r\n\r\n22. Launcelot:  Arthur\u2019s famous knight, so accomplished and\r\ncourtly, that he was held the very pink of chivalry.\r\n\r\n23. Trill: turn;  akin to \u201cthirl\u201d, \u201cdrill.\u201d\r\n\r\n24. Ride: another reading is \u201cbide,\u201d alight or remain.\r\n\r\n25. Feastying: entertaining; French, \u201cfestoyer,\u201d  to feast.\r\n\r\n26. The old physicians held that blood dominated in  the human\r\nbody late at night and in the early morning.  Galen says that the\r\ndomination lasts for seven hours.\r\n\r\n27. Fumosity: fumes of wine rising from the stomach to the\r\nhead.\r\n\r\n28. Fremde: foreign, strange; German, \u201cfremd\u201d in the northern\r\ndialects, \u201cfrem,\u201d or \u201cfremmed,\u201d is used in the same sense.\r\n\r\n29. Leden: Language, dialect; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cleden\u201d or\r\n\u201claeden,\u201d a corruption from \u201cLatin.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. Tercelet: the \u201ctassel,\u201d or male of any species of hawk; so\r\ncalled, according to Cotgrave, because he is one third (\u201ctiers\u201d)\r\nsmaller than the female.\r\n\r\n31. \u201cAnd Lamech took unto him two wives: the name of the\r\none Adah, and the name of the other Zillah\u201d (Gen. iv. 19).\r\n\r\n32. Galoche:  shoe; it seems to have been used in France, of a\r\n\u201csabot,\u201d or wooden shoe.  The reader cannot fail to recall the\r\nsame illustration in John i. 27, where the Baptist says of Christ:\r\n\u201cHe it is, who coming after me is preferred before me; whose\r\nshoe\u2019s latchet I am not worthy to unloose.\u201d\r\n\r\n33. Byleve; stay; another form is \u201cbleve;\u201d from Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cbelitan,\u201d to remain.  Compare German, \u201cbleiben.\u201d\r\n\r\n34. This sentiment, as well as the illustration of the bird which\r\nfollows, is taken from the third book of Boethius, \u201cDe\r\nConsolatione Philosophiae,\u201d metrum 2. It has thus been\r\nrendered in Chaucer\u2019s translation: \u201cAll things seek aye to their\r\nproper course, and all things rejoice on their returning again to\r\ntheir nature.\u201d\r\n\r\n35. Men love of proper kind newfangleness: Men, by their own\r\n\u2014 their very \u2014 nature, are fond of novelty, and prone to\r\ninconstancy.\r\n\r\n36. Blue was the colour of truth, as green was that of\r\ninconstancy.  In John Stowe\u2019s additions to Chaucer\u2019s works,\r\nprinted in 1561, there is \u201cA balade whiche Chaucer made\r\nagainst women inconstaunt,\u201d of which the refrain is, \u201cIn stead of\r\nblue, thus may ye wear all green.\u201d\r\n\r\n37. Unless we suppose this to be a namesake of the Camballo\r\nwho was Canace\u2019s brother \u2014 which is not at all probable \u2014 we\r\nmust agree with Tyrwhitt that there is a mistake here; which no\r\ndoubt Chaucer would have rectified, if the tale had not been\r\n\u201cleft half-told,\u201d One manuscript reads \u201cCaballo;\u201d and though not\r\nmuch authority need be given to a difference that may be due to\r\nmere omission of the mark of contraction over the \u201ca,\u201d there is\r\nenough in the text to show that another person than the king\u2019s\r\nyounger son is intended.  The Squire promises to tell the\r\nadventures that befell each member of Cambuscan\u2019s family; and\r\nin thorough consistency with this plan, and with the canons of\r\nchivalric story, would be \u201cthe marriage of Canace to some\r\nknight who was first obliged to fight for her with her two\r\nbrethren; a method of courtship,\u201d adds Tyrwhitt, \u201cvery\r\nconsonant to the spirit of ancient chivalry.\u201d\r\n\r\n38. (Trancriber\u2019s note) In some manuscripts the following two\r\nlines, being the beginning of the third part, are found: -\r\n\r\nApollo whirleth up his chair so high,\r\nTill that Mercurius\u2019 house, the sly\u2026\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE FRANKLIN\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE. <1>\r\n\r\n\u201cIN faith, Squier, thou hast thee well acquit,\r\nAnd gentilly; I praise well thy wit,\u201d\r\nQuoth the Franklin; \u201cconsidering thy youthe\r\nSo feelingly thou speak\u2019st, Sir, I aloue* thee,          *allow, approve\r\n*As to my doom,* there is none that is here       *so far as my judgment\r\nOf eloquence that shall be thy peer,                               goes*\r\nIf that thou live; God give thee goode chance,\r\nAnd in virtue send thee continuance,\r\nFor of thy speaking I have great dainty.*                 *value, esteem\r\nI have a son, and, by the Trinity;\r\n*It were me lever* than twenty pound worth land,        *I would rather*\r\nThough it right now were fallen in my hand,\r\nHe were a man of such discretion\r\nAs that ye be: fy on possession,\r\n*But if* a man be virtuous withal.                               *unless\r\nI have my sone snibbed* and yet shall,              *rebuked; \u201csnubbed.\u201d\r\nFor he to virtue *listeth not t\u2019intend,*               *does not wish to\r\nBut for to play at dice, and to dispend,                  apply himself*\r\nAnd lose all that he hath, is his usage;\r\nAnd he had lever talke with a page,\r\nThan to commune with any gentle wight,\r\nThere he might learen gentilless aright.\u201d\r\n\r\nStraw for your gentillesse!\u201d quoth our Host.\r\n\u201cWhat? Frankelin, pardie, Sir, well thou wost*                  *knowest\r\nThat each of you must tellen at the least\r\nA tale or two, or breake his behest.\u201d*                          *promise\r\n\u201cThat know I well, Sir,\u201d quoth the Frankelin;\r\n\u201cI pray you have me not in disdain,\r\nThough I to this man speak a word or two.\u201d\r\n\u201cTell on thy tale, withoute wordes mo\u2019.\u201d\r\n\u201cGladly, Sir Host,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI will obey\r\nUnto your will; now hearken what I say;\r\nI will you not contrary* in no wise,                            *disobey\r\nAs far as that my wittes may suffice.\r\nI pray to God that it may please you,\r\nThen wot I well that it is good enow.\r\n\r\n\u201cThese olde gentle Bretons, in their days,\r\nOf divers aventures made lays,<2>\r\nRhymeden in their firste Breton tongue;\r\nWhich layes with their instruments they sung,\r\nOr elles reade them for their pleasance;\r\nAnd one of them have I in remembrance,\r\nWhich I shall say with good will as I can.\r\nBut, Sirs, because I am a borel* man,                   *rude, unlearned\r\nAt my beginning first I you beseech\r\nHave me excused of my rude speech.\r\nI learned never rhetoric, certain;\r\nThing that I speak, it must be bare and plain.\r\nI slept never on the mount of Parnasso,\r\nNor learned Marcus Tullius Cicero.\r\nColoures know I none, withoute dread,*                            *doubt\r\nBut such colours as growen in the mead,\r\nOr elles such as men dye with or paint;\r\nColours of rhetoric be to me quaint;*                           *strange\r\nMy spirit feeleth not of such mattere.\r\nBut, if you list, my tale shall ye hear.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Franklin\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. In the older editions, the verses here given as the prologue\r\nwere prefixed to the Merchant\u2019s Tale, and put into his mouth.\r\nTyrwhitt was abundantly justified, by the internal evidence\r\nafforded by the lines themselves, in transferring them to their\r\npresent place.\r\n\r\n2. The \u201cBreton Lays\u201d were an important and curious element in\r\nthe literature of the Middle Ages; they were originally\r\ncomposed in the Armorican language, and the chief collection\r\nof them extant was translated into French verse by a poetess\r\ncalling herself \u201cMarie,\u201d about the middle of the thirteenth\r\ncentury.  But though this collection was the most famous, and\r\nhad doubtless been read by Chaucer, there were other British or\r\nBreton lays, and from one of those the Franklin\u2019s Tale is taken.\r\nBoccaccio has dealt with the same story in the \u201cDecameron\u201d\r\nand the \u201cPhilocopo,\u201d  altering the circumstances to suit the\r\nremoval of its scene to a southern clime.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.\r\n\r\nIn Armoric\u2019, that called is Bretagne,\r\nThere was a knight, that lov\u2019d and *did his pain*      *devoted himself,\r\nTo serve a lady in his beste wise;                               strove*\r\nAnd many a labour, many a great emprise,*                    *enterprise\r\nHe for his lady wrought, ere she were won:\r\nFor she was one the fairest under sun,\r\nAnd eke thereto come of so high kindred,\r\nThat *well unnethes durst this knight for dread,*         *see note <1>*\r\nTell her his woe, his pain, and his distress\r\nBut, at the last, she for his worthiness,\r\nAnd namely* for his meek obeisance,                          *especially\r\nHath such a pity caught of his penance,*            *suffering, distress\r\nThat privily she fell of his accord\r\nTo take him for her husband and her lord\r\n(Of such lordship as men have o\u2019er their wives);\r\nAnd, for to lead the more in bliss their lives,\r\nOf his free will he swore her as a knight,\r\nThat never in all his life he day nor night\r\nShould take upon himself no mastery\r\nAgainst her will, nor kithe* her jealousy,                         *show\r\nBut her obey, and follow her will in all,\r\nAs any lover to his lady shall;\r\nSave that the name of sovereignety\r\nThat would he have, for shame of his degree.\r\nShe thanked him, and with full great humbless\r\nShe saide; \u201cSir, since of your gentleness\r\nYe proffer me to have so large a reign,\r\n*Ne woulde God never betwixt us twain,\r\nAs in my guilt, were either war or strife:*               *see note <2>*\r\nSir, I will be your humble true wife,\r\nHave here my troth, till that my hearte brest.\u201d*                  *burst\r\nThus be they both in quiet and in rest.\r\n\r\nFor one thing, Sires, safely dare I say,\r\nThat friends ever each other must obey,\r\nIf they will longe hold in company.\r\nLove will not be constrain\u2019d by mastery.\r\nWhen mast\u2019ry comes, the god of love anon\r\nBeateth <3> his wings, and, farewell, he is gone.\r\nLove is a thing as any spirit free.\r\nWomen *of kind* desire liberty,                              *by nature*\r\nAnd not to be constrained as a thrall,*                           *slave\r\nAnd so do men, if soothly I say shall.\r\nLook who that is most patient in love,\r\nHe *is at his advantage all above.*                  *enjoys the highest\r\nPatience is a high virtue certain,                    advantages of all*\r\nFor it vanquisheth, as these clerkes sayn,\r\nThinges that rigour never should attain.\r\nFor every word men may not chide or plain.\r\nLearne to suffer, or, so may I go,*                             *prosper\r\nYe shall it learn whether ye will or no.\r\nFor in this world certain no wight there is,\r\nThat he not doth or saith sometimes amiss.\r\nIre, or sickness, or constellation,*                   *the influence of\r\nWine, woe, or changing of complexion,                       the planets*\r\nCauseth full oft to do amiss or speaken:\r\nOn every wrong a man may not be wreaken.*                      *revenged\r\nAfter* the time must be temperance                         *according to\r\nTo every wight that *can of* governance.                 *is capable of*\r\nAnd therefore hath this worthy wise knight\r\n(To live in ease) sufferance her behight;*                     *promised\r\nAnd she to him full wisly* gan to swear                          *surely\r\nThat never should there be default in her.\r\nHere may men see a humble wife accord;\r\nThus hath she ta\u2019en her servant and her lord,\r\nServant in love, and lord in marriage.\r\nThen was he both in lordship and servage?\r\nServage? nay, but in lordship all above,\r\nSince he had both his lady and his love:\r\nHis lady certes, and his wife also,\r\nThe which that law of love accordeth to.\r\nAnd when he was in this prosperrity,\r\nHome with his wife he went to his country,\r\nNot far from Penmark,<4> where his dwelling was,\r\nAnd there he liv\u2019d in bliss and in solace.*                     *delight\r\nWho coulde tell, but* he had wedded be,                          *unless\r\nThe joy, the ease, and the prosperity,\r\nThat is betwixt a husband and his wife?\r\nA year and more lasted this blissful life,\r\nTill that this knight, of whom I spake thus,\r\nThat of Cairrud <5> was call\u2019d Arviragus,\r\nShope* him to go and dwell a year or twain           *prepared, arranged\r\nIn Engleland, that call\u2019d was eke Britain,\r\nTo seek in armes worship and honour\r\n(For all his lust* he set in such labour);                     *pleasure\r\nAnd dwelled there two years; the book saith thus.\r\n\r\nNow will I stint* of this Arviragus,                     *cease speaking\r\nAnd speak I will of Dorigen his wife,\r\nThat lov\u2019d her husband as her hearte\u2019s life.\r\nFor his absence weepeth she and siketh,*                        *sigheth\r\nAs do these noble wives when them liketh;\r\nShe mourneth, waketh, waileth, fasteth, plaineth;\r\nDesire of his presence her so distraineth,\r\nThat all this wide world she set at nought.\r\nHer friendes, which that knew her heavy thought,\r\nComforte her in all that ever they may;\r\nThey preache her, they tell her night and day,\r\nThat causeless she slays herself, alas!\r\nAnd every comfort possible in this case\r\nThey do to her, with all their business,*                     *assiduity\r\nAnd all to make her leave her heaviness.\r\nBy process, as ye knowen every one,\r\nMen may so longe graven in a stone,\r\nTill some figure therein imprinted be:\r\nSo long have they comforted her, till she\r\nReceived hath, by hope and by reason,\r\nTh\u2019 imprinting of their consolation,\r\nThrough which her greate sorrow gan assuage;\r\nShe may not always duren in such rage.\r\nAnd eke Arviragus, in all this care,\r\nHath sent his letters home of his welfare,\r\nAnd that he will come hastily again,\r\nOr elles had this sorrow her hearty-slain.\r\nHer friendes saw her sorrow gin to slake,*            *slacken, diminish\r\nAnd prayed her on knees for Godde\u2019s sake\r\nTo come and roamen in their company,\r\nAway to drive her darke fantasy;\r\nAnd finally she granted that request,\r\nFor well she saw that it was for the best.\r\n\r\nNow stood her castle faste by the sea,\r\nAnd often with her friendes walked she,\r\nHer to disport upon the bank on high,\r\nThere as many a ship and barge sigh,*                               *saw\r\nSailing their courses, where them list to go.\r\nBut then was that a parcel* of her woe,                            *part\r\nFor to herself full oft, \u201cAlas!\u201d said she,\r\nIs there no ship, of so many as I see,\r\nWill bringe home my lord? then were my heart\r\nAll warish\u2019d* of this bitter paine\u2019s smart.\u201d                  *cured <6>\r\nAnother time would she sit and think,\r\nAnd cast her eyen downward from the brink;\r\nBut when she saw the grisly rockes blake,*                        *black\r\nFor very fear so would her hearte quake,\r\nThat on her feet she might her not sustene*                     *sustain\r\nThen would she sit adown upon the green,\r\nAnd piteously *into the sea behold,*               *look out on the sea*\r\nAnd say right thus, with *careful sikes* cold:           *painful sighs*\r\n\u201cEternal God! that through thy purveyance\r\nLeadest this world by certain governance,\r\n*In idle,* as men say, ye nothing make;                  *idly, in vain*\r\nBut, Lord, these grisly fiendly rockes blake,\r\nThat seem rather a foul confusion\r\nOf work, than any fair creation\r\nOf such a perfect wise God and stable,\r\nWhy have ye wrought this work unreasonable?\r\nFor by this work, north, south, or west, or east,\r\nThere is not foster\u2019d man, nor bird, nor beast:\r\nIt doth no good, to my wit, but *annoyeth.*         *works mischief* <7>\r\nSee ye not, Lord, how mankind it destroyeth?\r\nA hundred thousand bodies of mankind\r\nHave rockes slain, *all be they not in mind;*           *though they are\r\nWhich mankind is so fair part of thy work,                    forgotten*\r\nThou madest it like to thine owen mark.*                          *image\r\nThen seemed it ye had a great cherte*                   *love, affection\r\nToward mankind; but how then may it be\r\nThat ye such meanes make it to destroy?\r\nWhich meanes do no good, but ever annoy.\r\nI wot well, clerkes will say as them lest,*                      *please\r\nBy arguments, that all is for the best,\r\nAlthough I can the causes not y-know;\r\nBut thilke* God that made the wind to blow,                        *that\r\nAs keep my lord, this is my conclusion:\r\nTo clerks leave I all disputation:\r\nBut would to God that all these rockes blake\r\nWere sunken into helle for his sake\r\nThese rockes slay mine hearte for the fear.\u201d\r\nThus would she say, with many a piteous tear.\r\n\r\nHer friendes saw that it was no disport\r\nTo roame by the sea, but discomfort,\r\nAnd shope* them for to playe somewhere else.                   *arranged\r\nThey leade her by rivers and by wells,\r\nAnd eke in other places delectables;\r\nThey dancen, and they play at chess and tables.*             *backgammon\r\nSo on a day, right in the morning-tide,\r\nUnto a garden that was there beside,\r\nIn which that they had made their ordinance*     *provision, arrangement\r\nOf victual, and of other purveyance,\r\nThey go and play them all the longe day:\r\nAnd this was on the sixth morrow of May,\r\nWhich May had painted with his softe showers\r\nThis garden full of leaves and of flowers:\r\nAnd craft of manne\u2019s hand so curiously\r\nArrayed had this garden truely,\r\nThat never was there garden of such price,*               *value, praise\r\n*But if* it were the very Paradise.                             *unless*\r\nTh\u2019odour of flowers, and the freshe sight,\r\nWould have maked any hearte light\r\nThat e\u2019er was born, *but if* too great sickness                 *unless*\r\nOr too great sorrow held it in distress;\r\nSo full it was of beauty and pleasance.\r\nAnd after dinner they began to dance\r\nAnd sing also, save Dorigen alone\r\nWho made alway her complaint and her moan,\r\nFor she saw not him on the dance go\r\nThat was her husband, and her love also;\r\nBut natheless she must a time abide\r\nAnd with good hope let her sorrow slide.\r\n\r\nUpon this dance, amonge other men,\r\nDanced a squier before Dorigen\r\nThat fresher was, and jollier of array\r\n*As to my doom,* than is the month of May.              *in my judgment*\r\nHe sang and danced, passing any man,\r\nThat is or was since that the world began;\r\nTherewith he was, if men should him descrive,\r\nOne of the *beste faring* men alive,                 *most accomplished*\r\nYoung, strong, and virtuous, and rich, and wise,\r\nAnd well beloved, and holden in great price.*             *esteem, value\r\nAnd, shortly if the sooth I telle shall,\r\n*Unweeting of* this Dorigen at all,                         *unknown to*\r\nThis lusty squier, servant to Venus,\r\nWhich that y-called was Aurelius,\r\nHad lov\u2019d her best of any creature\r\nTwo year and more, as was his aventure;*                        *fortune\r\nBut never durst he tell her his grievance;\r\nWithoute cup he drank all his penance.\r\nHe was despaired, nothing durst he say,\r\nSave in his songes somewhat would he wray*                       *betray\r\nHis woe, as in a general complaining;\r\nHe said, he lov\u2019d, and was belov\u2019d nothing.\r\nOf suche matter made he many lays,\r\nSonges, complaintes, roundels, virelays <8>\r\nHow that he durste not his sorrow tell,\r\nBut languished, as doth a Fury in hell;\r\nAnd die he must, he said, as did Echo\r\nFor Narcissus, that durst not tell her woe.\r\nIn other manner than ye hear me say,\r\nHe durste not to her his woe bewray,\r\nSave that paraventure sometimes at dances,\r\nWhere younge folke keep their observances,\r\nIt may well be he looked on her face\r\nIn such a wise, as man that asketh grace,\r\nBut nothing wiste she of his intent.\r\nNath\u2019less it happen\u2019d, ere they thennes* went,         *thence (from the\r\nBecause that he was her neighebour,                             garden)*\r\nAnd was a man of worship and honour,\r\nAnd she had knowen him *of time yore,*                 *for a long time*\r\nThey fell in speech, and forth aye more and more\r\nUnto his purpose drew Aurelius;\r\nAnd when he saw his time, he saide thus:\r\nMadam,\u201d quoth he, \u201cby God that this world made,\r\nSo that I wist it might your hearte glade,*                     *gladden\r\nI would, that day that your Arviragus\r\nWent over sea, that I, Aurelius,\r\nHad gone where I should never come again;\r\nFor well I wot my service is in vain.\r\nMy guerdon* is but bursting of mine heart.                       *reward\r\nMadame, rue upon my paine\u2019s smart,\r\nFor with a word ye may me slay or save.\r\nHere at your feet God would that I were grave.\r\nI have now no leisure more to say:\r\nHave mercy, sweet, or you will *do me dey.\u201d*           *cause me to die*\r\n\r\nShe gan to look upon Aurelius;\r\n\u201cIs this your will,\u201d quoth she, \u201cand say ye thus?\r\nNe\u2019er erst,\u201d* quoth she, \u201cI wiste what ye meant:                 *before\r\nBut now, Aurelius, I know your intent.\r\nBy thilke* God that gave me soul and life,                         *that\r\nNever shall I be an untrue wife\r\nIn word nor work, as far as I have wit;\r\nI will be his to whom that I am knit;\r\nTake this for final answer as of me.\u201d\r\nBut after that *in play* thus saide she.            *playfully, in jest*\r\n\u201cAurelius,\u201d quoth she, \u201cby high God above,\r\nYet will I grante you to be your love\r\n(Since I you see so piteously complain);\r\nLooke, what day that endelong* Bretagne              *from end to end of\r\nYe remove all the rockes, stone by stone,\r\nThat they not lette* ship nor boat to gon,                      *prevent\r\nI say, when ye have made this coast so clean\r\nOf rockes, that there is no stone seen,\r\nThen will I love you best of any man;\r\nHave here my troth, in all that ever I can;\r\nFor well I wot that it shall ne\u2019er betide.\r\nLet such folly out of your hearte glide.\r\nWhat dainty* should a man have in his life              *value, pleasure\r\nFor to go love another manne\u2019s wife,\r\nThat hath her body when that ever him liketh?\u201d\r\nAurelius full often sore siketh;*                               *sigheth\r\nIs there none other grace in you?\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cNo, by that Lord,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthat maked me.\r\nWoe was Aurelius when that he this heard,\r\nAnd with a sorrowful heart he thus answer\u2019d.\r\n\u201cMadame, quoth he, \u201cthis were an impossible.\r\nThen must I die of sudden death horrible.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word he turned him anon.\r\n\r\nThen came her other friends many a one,\r\nAnd in the alleys roamed up and down,\r\nAnd nothing wist of this conclusion,\r\nBut suddenly began to revel new,\r\nTill that the brighte sun had lost his hue,\r\nFor th\u2019 horizon had reft the sun his light\r\n(This is as much to say as it was night);\r\nAnd home they go in mirth and in solace;\r\nSave only wretch\u2019d Aurelius, alas\r\nHe to his house is gone with sorrowful heart.\r\nHe said, he may not from his death astart.*                      *escape\r\nHim seemed, that he felt his hearte cold.\r\nUp to the heav\u2019n his handes gan he hold,\r\nAnd on his knees bare he set him down.\r\nAnd in his raving said his orisoun.*                             *prayer\r\nFor very woe out of his wit he braid;*                         *wandered\r\nHe wist not what he spake, but thus he said;\r\nWith piteous heart his plaint hath he begun\r\nUnto the gods, and first unto the Sun.\r\nHe said; \u201cApollo God and governour\r\nOf every plante, herbe, tree, and flower,\r\nThat giv\u2019st, after thy declination,\r\nTo each of them his time and his season,\r\nAs thine herberow* changeth low and high;           *dwelling, situation\r\nLord Phoebus: cast thy merciable eye\r\nOn wretched Aurelius, which that am but lorn.*                   *undone\r\nLo, lord, my lady hath my death y-sworn,\r\nWithoute guilt, but* thy benignity                               *unless\r\nUpon my deadly heart have some pity.\r\nFor well I wot, Lord Phoebus, if you lest,*                      *please\r\nYe may me helpe, save my lady, best.\r\nNow vouchsafe, that I may you devise*                     *tell, explain\r\nHow that I may be holp,* and in what wise.                       *helped\r\nYour blissful sister, Lucina the sheen, <9>\r\nThat of the sea is chief goddess and queen, \u2014\r\nThough Neptunus have deity in the sea,\r\nYet emperess above him is she;  \u2014\r\nYe know well, lord, that, right as her desire\r\nIs to be quick\u2019d* and lighted of your fire,                   *quickened\r\nFor which she followeth you full busily,\r\nRight so the sea desireth naturally\r\nTo follow her, as she that is goddess\r\nBoth in the sea and rivers more and less.\r\nWherefore, Lord Phoebus, this is my request,\r\nDo this miracle, or *do mine hearte brest;*              *cause my heart\r\nThat flow, next at this opposition,                            to burst*\r\nWhich in the sign shall be of the Lion,\r\nAs praye her so great a flood to bring,\r\nThat five fathom at least it overspring\r\nThe highest rock in Armoric Bretagne,\r\nAnd let this flood endure yeares twain:\r\nThen certes to my lady may I say,\r\n\u201cHolde your hest,\u201d the rockes be away.\r\nLord Phoebus, this miracle do for me,\r\nPray her she go no faster course than ye;\r\nI say this, pray your sister that she go\r\nNo faster course than ye these yeares two:\r\nThen shall she be even at full alway,\r\nAnd spring-flood laste bothe night and day.\r\nAnd *but she* vouchesafe in such mannere                 *if she do not*\r\nTo grante me my sov\u2019reign lady dear,\r\nPray her to sink every rock adown\r\nInto her owen darke regioun\r\nUnder the ground, where Pluto dwelleth in\r\nOr nevermore shall I my lady win.\r\nThy temple in Delphos will I barefoot seek.\r\nLord Phoebus! see the teares on my cheek\r\nAnd on my pain have some compassioun.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word in sorrow he fell down,\r\nAnd longe time he lay forth in a trance.\r\nHis brother, which that knew of his penance,*                  *distress\r\nUp caught him, and to bed he hath him brought,\r\nDespaired in this torment and this thought\r\nLet I this woeful creature lie;\r\nChoose he for me whe\u2019er* he will live or die.                   *whether\r\n\r\nArviragus with health and great honour\r\n(As he that was of chivalry the flow\u2019r)\r\nIs come home, and other worthy men.\r\nOh, blissful art thou now, thou Dorigen!\r\nThou hast thy lusty husband in thine arms,\r\nThe freshe knight, the worthy man of arms,\r\nThat loveth thee as his own hearte\u2019s life:\r\n*Nothing list him to be imaginatif*              *he cared not to fancy*\r\nIf any wight had spoke, while he was out,\r\nTo her of love; he had of that no doubt;*               *fear, suspicion\r\nHe not intended* to no such mattere,              *occupied himself with\r\nBut danced, jousted, and made merry cheer.\r\nAnd thus in joy and bliss I let them dwell,\r\nAnd of the sick Aurelius will I tell\r\nIn languor and in torment furious\r\nTwo year and more lay wretch\u2019d Aurelius,\r\nEre any foot on earth he mighte gon;\r\nNor comfort in this time had he none,\r\nSave of his brother, which that was a clerk.*                   *scholar\r\nHe knew of all this woe and all this work;\r\nFor to none other creature certain\r\nOf this matter he durst no worde sayn;\r\nUnder his breast he bare it more secree\r\nThan e\u2019er did Pamphilus for Galatee.<10>\r\nHis breast was whole withoute for to seen,\r\nBut in his heart aye was the arrow keen,\r\nAnd well ye know that of a sursanure <11>\r\nIn surgery is perilous the cure,\r\nBut* men might touch the arrow or come thereby.                  *except\r\nHis brother wept and wailed privily,\r\nTill at the last him fell in remembrance,\r\nThat while he was at Orleans <12> in France, \u2014\r\nAs younge clerkes, that be likerous* \u2014                           *eager\r\nTo readen artes that be curious,\r\nSeeken in every *halk and every hern*             *nook and corner* <13>\r\nParticular sciences for to learn,\u2014\r\nHe him remember\u2019d, that upon a day\r\nAt Orleans in study a book he say*                                  *saw\r\nOf magic natural, which his fellaw,\r\nThat was that time a bachelor of law\r\nAll* were he there to learn another craft,                       *though\r\nHad privily upon his desk y-laft;\r\nWhich book spake much of operations\r\nTouching the eight and-twenty mansions\r\nThat longe to the Moon, and such folly\r\nAs in our dayes is not worth a fly;\r\nFor holy church\u2019s faith, in our believe,*                 *belief, creed\r\nUs suff\u2019reth none illusion to grieve.\r\nAnd when this book was in his remembrance\r\nAnon for joy his heart began to dance,\r\nAnd to himself he saide privily;\r\n\u201cMy brother shall be warish\u2019d* hastily                            *cured\r\nFor I am sicker* that there be sciences,                        *certain\r\nBy which men make divers apparences,\r\nSuch as these subtle tregetoures play.                  *tricksters <14>\r\nFor oft at feaste\u2019s have I well heard say,\r\nThat tregetours, within a halle large,\r\nHave made come in a water and a barge,\r\nAnd in the halle rowen up and down.\r\nSometimes hath seemed come a grim lioun,\r\nAnd sometimes flowers spring as in a mead;\r\nSometimes a vine, and grapes white and red;\r\nSometimes a castle all of lime and stone;\r\nAnd, when them liked, voided* it anon:                         *vanished\r\nThus seemed it to every manne\u2019s sight.\r\nNow then conclude I thus; if that I might\r\nAt Orleans some olde fellow find,\r\nThat hath these Moone\u2019s mansions in mind,\r\nOr other magic natural above.\r\nHe should well make my brother have his love.\r\nFor with an appearance a clerk* may make,                   *learned man\r\nTo manne\u2019s sight, that all the rockes blake\r\nOf Bretagne were voided* every one,                             *removed\r\nAnd shippes by the brinke come and gon,\r\nAnd in such form endure a day or two;\r\nThen were my brother warish\u2019d* of his woe,                        *cured\r\nThen must she needes *holde her behest,*              *keep her promise*\r\nOr elles he shall shame her at the least.\u201d\r\nWhy should I make a longer tale of this?\r\nUnto his brother\u2019s bed he comen is,\r\nAnd such comfort he gave him, for to gon\r\nTo Orleans, that he upstart anon,\r\nAnd on his way forth-ward then is he fare,*                        *gone\r\nIn hope for to be lissed* of his care.                    *eased of <15>\r\n\r\nWhen they were come almost to that city,\r\n*But if it were* a two furlong or three,                       *all but*\r\nA young clerk roaming by himself they met,\r\nWhich that in Latin *thriftily them gret.*                 *greeted them\r\nAnd after that he said a wondrous thing;                        civilly*\r\nI know,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthe cause of your coming;\u201d\r\nAud ere they farther any foote went,\r\nHe told them all that was in their intent.\r\nThe Breton clerk him asked of fellaws\r\nThe which he hadde known in olde daws,*                            *days\r\nAnd he answer\u2019d him that they deade were,\r\nFor which he wept full often many a tear.\r\nDown off his horse Aurelius light anon,\r\nAnd forth with this magician is be gone\r\nHome to his house, and made him well at ease;\r\nThem lacked no vitail* that might them please.           *victuals, food\r\nSo well-array\u2019d a house as there was one,\r\nAurelius in his life saw never none.\r\nHe shewed him, ere they went to suppere,\r\nForestes, parkes, full of wilde deer.\r\nThere saw he hartes with their hornes high,\r\nThe greatest that were ever seen with eye.\r\nHe saw of them an hundred slain with hounds,\r\nAnd some with arrows bleed of bitter wounds.\r\nHe saw, when voided* were the wilde deer,                   *passed away\r\nThese falconers upon a fair rivere,\r\nThat with their hawkes have the heron slain.\r\nThen saw he knightes jousting in a plain.\r\nAnd after this he did him such pleasance,\r\nThat he him shew\u2019d his lady on a dance,\r\nIn which himselfe danced, as him thought.\r\nAnd when this master, that this magic wrought,\r\nSaw it was time, he clapp\u2019d his handes two,\r\nAnd farewell, all the revel is y-go.*                     *gone, removed\r\nAnd yet remov\u2019d they never out of the house,\r\nWhile they saw all the sightes marvellous;\r\nBut in his study, where his bookes be,\r\nThey satte still, and no wight but they three.\r\nTo him this master called his squier,\r\n\r\nAnd said him thus, \u201cMay we go to supper?\r\nAlmost an hour it is, I undertake,\r\nSince I you bade our supper for to make,\r\nWhen that these worthy men wente with me\r\nInto my study, where my bookes be.\u201d\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth this squier, \u201cwhen it liketh you.\r\nIt is all ready, though ye will right now.\u201d\r\n\u201cGo we then sup,\u201d quoth he, \u201cas for the best;\r\nThese amorous folk some time must have rest.\u201d\r\nAt after supper fell they in treaty\r\nWhat summe should this master\u2019s guerdon* be,                     *reward\r\nTo remove all the rockes of Bretagne,\r\nAnd eke from Gironde <16> to the mouth of Seine.\r\nHe made it strange,* and swore, so God him save,            *a matter of\r\nLess than a thousand pound he would not have,                difficulty*\r\n*Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon.*              *see note <17>*\r\nAurelius with blissful heart anon\r\nAnswered thus; \u201cFie on a thousand pound!\r\nThis wide world, which that men say is round,\r\nI would it give, if I were lord of it.\r\nThis bargain is full-driv\u2019n, for we be knit;*                    *agreed\r\nYe shall be payed truly by my troth.\r\nBut looke, for no negligence or sloth,\r\nYe tarry us here no longer than to-morrow.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the clerk, *\u201chave here my faith to borrow.\u201d*   *I pledge my\r\nTo bed is gone Aurelius when him lest,                      faith on it*\r\nAnd well-nigh all that night he had his rest,\r\nWhat for his labour, and his hope of bliss,\r\nHis woeful heart *of penance had a liss.*                 *had a respite\r\n                                                         from suffering*\r\nUpon the morrow, when that it was day,\r\nUnto Bretagne they took the righte way,\r\nAurelius and this magician beside,\r\nAnd be descended where they would abide:\r\nAnd this was, as the bookes me remember,\r\nThe colde frosty season of December.\r\nPhoebus wax\u2019d old, and hued like latoun,*                         *brass\r\nThat in his hote declinatioun\r\nShone as the burned gold, with streames* bright;                  *beams\r\nBut now in Capricorn adown he light,\r\nWhere as he shone full pale, I dare well sayn.\r\nThe bitter frostes, with the sleet and rain,\r\nDestroyed have the green in every yard.               *courtyard, garden\r\nJanus sits by the fire with double beard,\r\nAnd drinketh of his bugle horn the wine:\r\nBefore him stands the brawn of tusked swine\r\nAnd \u201cnowel\u201d* crieth every lusty man                           *Noel <18>\r\nAurelius, in all that ev\u2019r he can,\r\nDid to his master cheer and reverence,\r\nAnd prayed him to do his diligence\r\nTo bringe him out of his paines smart,\r\nOr with a sword that he would slit his heart.\r\nThis subtle clerk such ruth* had on this man,                      *pity\r\nThat night and day he sped him, that he can,\r\nTo wait a time of his conclusion;\r\nThis is to say, to make illusion,\r\nBy such an appearance of jugglery\r\n(I know no termes of astrology),\r\nThat she and every wight should ween and say,\r\nThat of Bretagne the rockes were away,\r\nOr else they were sunken under ground.\r\nSo at the last he hath a time found\r\nTo make his japes* and his wretchedness                          *tricks\r\nOf such a *superstitious cursedness.*              *detestable villainy*\r\nHis tables Toletanes <19> forth he brought,\r\nFull well corrected, that there lacked nought,\r\nNeither his collect, nor his expanse years,\r\nNeither his rootes, nor his other gears,\r\nAs be his centres, and his arguments,\r\nAnd his proportional convenients\r\nFor his equations in everything.\r\nAnd by his eighte spheres in his working,\r\nHe knew full well how far Alnath <20> was shove\r\nFrom the head of that fix\u2019d Aries above,\r\nThat in the ninthe sphere consider\u2019d is.\r\nFull subtilly he calcul\u2019d all this.\r\nWhen he had found his firste mansion,\r\nHe knew the remnant by proportion;\r\nAnd knew the rising of his moone well,\r\nAnd in whose face, and term, and every deal;\r\nAnd knew full well the moone\u2019s mansion\r\nAccordant to his operation;\r\nAnd knew also his other observances,\r\nFor such illusions and such meschances,*                 *wicked devices\r\nAs heathen folk used in thilke days.\r\nFor which no longer made he delays;\r\nBut through his magic, for a day or tway, <21>\r\nIt seemed all the rockes were away.\r\n\r\nAurelius, which yet despaired is\r\nWhe\u2019er* he shall have his love, or fare amiss,                  *whether\r\nAwaited night and day on this miracle:\r\nAnd when he knew that there was none obstacle,\r\nThat voided* were these rockes every one,                       *removed\r\nDown at his master\u2019s feet he fell anon,\r\nAnd said; \u201cI, woeful wretch\u2019d Aurelius,\r\nThank you, my Lord, and lady mine Venus,\r\nThat me have holpen from my cares cold.\u201d\r\nAnd to the temple his way forth hath he hold,\r\nWhere as he knew he should his lady see.\r\nAnd when he saw his time, anon right he\r\nWith dreadful* heart and with full humble cheer**        *fearful **mien\r\nSaluteth hath his sovereign lady dear.\r\n\u201cMy rightful Lady,\u201d quoth this woeful man,\r\n\u201cWhom I most dread, and love as I best can,\r\nAnd lothest were of all this world displease,\r\nWere\u2019t not that I for you have such disease,*      *distress, affliction\r\nThat I must die here at your foot anon,\r\nNought would I tell how me is woebegone.\r\nBut certes either must I die or plain;*                          *bewail\r\nYe slay me guilteless for very pain.\r\nBut of my death though that ye have no ruth,\r\nAdvise you, ere that ye break your truth:\r\nRepente you, for thilke God above,\r\nEre ye me slay because that I you love.\r\nFor, Madame, well ye wot what ye have hight;*                  *promised\r\nNot that I challenge anything of right\r\nOf you,  my sovereign lady, but of grace:\r\nBut in a garden yond\u2019, in such a place,\r\nYe wot right well what ye behighte* me,                        *promised\r\nAnd in mine hand your trothe plighted ye,\r\nTo love me best; God wot ye saide so,\r\nAlbeit that I unworthy am thereto;\r\nMadame, I speak it for th\u2019 honour of you,\r\nMore than to save my hearte\u2019s life right now;\r\nI have done so as ye commanded me,\r\nAnd if ye vouchesafe, ye may go see.\r\nDo as you list, have your behest in mind,\r\nFor, quick or dead, right there ye shall me find;\r\nIn you hes all to *do me live or dey;*                      *cause me to\r\nBut well I wot the rockes be away.\u201d                         live or die*\r\n\r\nHe took his leave, and she astonish\u2019d stood;\r\nIn all her face was not one drop of blood:\r\nShe never ween\u2019d t\u2019have come in such a trap.\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201cthat ever this should hap!\r\nFor ween\u2019d I ne\u2019er, by possibility,\r\nThat such a monster or marvail might be;\r\nIt is against the process of nature.\u201d\r\nAnd home she went a sorrowful creature;\r\nFor very fear unnethes* may she go.                            *scarcely\r\nShe weeped, wailed, all a day or two,\r\nAnd swooned, that it ruthe was to see:\r\nBut why it was, to no wight tolde she,\r\nFor out of town was gone Arviragus.\r\nBut to herself she spake, and saide thus,\r\nWith face pale, and full sorrowful cheer,\r\nIn her complaint, as ye shall after hear.\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201con thee, Fortune, I plain,*                *complain\r\nThat unware hast me wrapped in thy chain,\r\nFrom which to scape, wot I no succour,\r\nSave only death, or elles dishonour;\r\nOne of these two behoveth me to choose.\r\nBut natheless, yet had I lever* lose                     *sooner, rather\r\nMy life, than of my body have shame,\r\nOr know myselfe false, or lose my name;\r\nAnd with my death *I may be quit y-wis.*       *I may certainly purchase\r\nHath there not many a noble wife, ere this,                my exemption*\r\nAnd many a maiden, slain herself, alas!\r\nRather than with her body do trespass?\r\nYes, certes; lo, these stories bear witness. <22>\r\nWhen thirty tyrants full of cursedness*                      *wickedness\r\nHad slain Phidon in Athens at the feast,\r\nThey commanded his daughters to arrest,\r\nAnd bringe them before them, in despite,\r\nAll naked, to fulfil their foul delight;\r\nAnd in their father\u2019s blood they made them dance\r\nUpon the pavement, \u2014 God give them mischance.\r\nFor which these woeful maidens, full of dread,\r\nRather than they would lose their maidenhead,\r\nThey privily *be start* into a well,                    *suddenly leaped\r\nAnd drowned themselves, as the bookes tell.\r\nThey of Messene let inquire and seek\r\nOf Lacedaemon fifty maidens eke,\r\nOn which they woulde do their lechery:\r\nBut there was none of all that company\r\nThat was not slain, and with a glad intent\r\nChose rather for to die, than to assent\r\nTo be oppressed* of her maidenhead.                     *forcibly bereft\r\nWhy should I then to dien be in dread?\r\nLo, eke the tyrant Aristoclides,\r\nThat lov\u2019d a maiden hight Stimphalides,\r\nWhen that her father slain was on a night,\r\nUnto Diana\u2019s temple went she right,\r\nAnd hent* the image in her handes two,                  *caught, clasped\r\nFrom which image she woulde never go;\r\nNo wight her handes might off it arace,*            *pluck away by force\r\nTill she was slain right in the selfe* place.                      *same\r\nNow since that maidens hadde such despite\r\nTo be defouled with man\u2019s foul delight,\r\nWell ought a wife rather herself to sle,*                          *slay\r\nThan be defouled, as it thinketh me.\r\nWhat shall I say of Hasdrubale\u2019s wife,\r\nThat at Carthage bereft herself of life?\r\nFor, when she saw the Romans win the town,\r\nShe took her children all, and skipt adown\r\nInto the fire, and rather chose to die,\r\nThan any Roman did her villainy.\r\nHath not Lucretia slain herself, alas!\r\nAt Rome, when that she oppressed* was                          *ravished\r\nOf Tarquin? for her thought it was a shame\r\nTo live, when she hadde lost her name.\r\nThe seven maidens of Milesie also\r\nHave slain themselves for very dread and woe,\r\nRather than folk of Gaul them should oppress.\r\nMore than a thousand stories, as I guess,\r\nCould I now tell as touching this mattere.\r\nWhen Abradate was slain, his wife so dear <23>\r\nHerselfe slew, and let her blood to glide\r\nIn Abradate\u2019s woundes, deep and wide,\r\nAnd said, \u2018My body at the leaste way\r\nThere shall no wight defoul, if that I may.\u2019\r\nWhy should I more examples hereof sayn?\r\nSince that so many have themselves slain,\r\nWell rather than they would defouled be,\r\nI will conclude that it is bet* for me                           *better\r\nTo slay myself, than be defouled thus.\r\nI will be true unto Arviragus,\r\nOr elles slay myself in some mannere,\r\nAs did Demotione\u2019s daughter dear,\r\nBecause she woulde not defouled be.\r\nO Sedasus, it is full great pity\r\nTo reade how thy daughters died, alas!\r\nThat slew themselves *for suche manner cas.*        *in circumstances of\r\nAs great a pity was it, or well more,                     the same kind*\r\nThe Theban maiden, that for Nicanor\r\nHerselfe slew, right for such manner woe.\r\nAnother Theban maiden did right so;\r\nFor one of Macedon had her oppress\u2019d,\r\nShe with her death her maidenhead redress\u2019d.*                *vindicated\r\nWhat shall I say of Niceratus\u2019 wife,\r\nThat for such case bereft herself her life?\r\nHow true was eke to Alcibiades\r\nHis love, that for to dien rather chese,*                         *chose\r\nThan for to suffer his body unburied be?\r\nLo, what a wife was Alceste?\u201d quoth she.\r\n\u201cWhat saith Homer of good Penelope?\r\nAll Greece knoweth of her chastity.\r\nPardie, of Laedamia is written thus,\r\nThat when at Troy was slain Protesilaus, <24>\r\nNo longer would she live after his day.\r\nThe same of noble Porcia tell I may;\r\nWithoute Brutus coulde she not live,\r\nTo whom she did all whole her hearte give. <25>\r\nThe perfect wifehood of Artemisie <26>\r\nHonoured is throughout all Barbarie.\r\nO Teuta <27> queen, thy wifely chastity\r\nTo alle wives may a mirror be.\u201d <28>\r\n\r\nThus plained Dorigen a day or tway,\r\nPurposing ever that she woulde dey;*                                *die\r\nBut natheless upon the thirde night\r\nHome came Arviragus, the worthy knight,\r\nAnd asked her why that she wept so sore.\r\nAnd she gan weepen ever longer more.\r\n\u201cAlas,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthat ever I was born!\r\nThus have I said,\u201d quoth she; \u201cthus have I sworn. \u201c\r\nAnd told him all, as ye have heard before:\r\nIt needeth not rehearse it you no more.\r\nThis husband with glad cheer,* in friendly wise,              *demeanour\r\nAnswer\u2019d and said, as I shall you devise.*                       *relate\r\n\u201cIs there aught elles, Dorigen, but this?\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d quoth she, \u201cGod help me so, *as wis*             *assuredly*\r\nThis is too much, an* it were Godde\u2019s will.\u201d                         *if\r\n\u201cYea, wife,\u201d quoth he, \u201clet sleepe what is still,\r\nIt may be well par\u2019venture yet to-day.\r\nYe shall your trothe holde, by my fay.\r\nFor, God so wisly* have mercy on me,                          *certainly\r\n*I had well lever sticked for to be,*            *I had rather be slain*\r\nFor very love which I to you have,\r\nBut if ye should your trothe keep and save.\r\nTruth is the highest thing that man may keep.\u201d\r\nBut with that word he burst anon to weep,\r\nAnd said; \u201cI you forbid, on pain of death,\r\nThat never, while you lasteth life or breath,\r\nTo no wight tell ye this misaventure;\r\nAs I may best, I will my woe endure,\r\nNor make no countenance of heaviness,\r\nThat folk of you may deeme harm, or guess.\u201d\r\nAnd forth he call\u2019d a squier and a maid.\r\n\u201cGo forth anon with Dorigen,\u201d he said,\r\n\u201cAnd bringe her to such a place anon.\u201d\r\nThey take their leave, and on their way they gon:\r\nBut they not wiste why she thither went;\r\nHe would to no wight telle his intent.\r\n\r\nThis squier, which that hight Aurelius,\r\nOn Dorigen that was so amorous,\r\nOf aventure happen\u2019d her to meet\r\nAmid the town, right in the quickest* street,                   *nearest\r\nAs she was bound* to go the way forthright         *prepared, going <29>\r\nToward the garden, there as she had hight.*                    *promised\r\nAnd he was to the garden-ward also;\r\nFor well he spied when she woulde go\r\nOut of her house, to any manner place;\r\nBut thus they met, of aventure or grace,\r\nAnd he saluted her with glad intent,\r\nAnd asked of her whitherward she went.\r\nAnd she answered, half as she were mad,\r\n\u201cUnto the garden, as my husband bade,\r\nMy trothe for to hold, alas! alas!\u201d\r\nAurelius gan to wonder on this case,\r\nAnd in his heart had great compassion\r\nOf her, and of her lamentation,\r\nAnd of Arviragus, the worthy knight,\r\nThat bade her hold all that she hadde hight;\r\nSo loth him was his wife should break her truth*    *troth, pledged word\r\nAnd in his heart he caught of it great ruth,*                      *pity\r\nConsidering the best on every side,\r\n*That from his lust yet were him lever abide,*           *see note <30>*\r\nThan do so high a churlish wretchedness*                     *wickedness\r\nAgainst franchise,* and alle gentleness;                     *generosity\r\nFor which in fewe words he saide thus;\r\n\u201cMadame, say to your lord Arviragus,\r\nThat since I see the greate gentleness\r\nOf him, and eke I see well your distress,\r\nThat him were lever* have shame (and that were ruth)**    *rather **pity\r\nThan ye to me should breake thus your truth,\r\nI had well lever aye* to suffer woe,                            *forever\r\nThan to depart* the love betwixt you two.              *sunder, split up\r\nI you release, Madame, into your hond,\r\nQuit ev\u2019ry surement* and ev\u2019ry bond,                             *surety\r\nThat ye have made to me as herebeforn,\r\nSince thilke time that ye were born.\r\nHave here my truth, I shall you ne\u2019er repreve*                 *reproach\r\n*Of no behest;* and here I take my leave,             *of no (breach of)\r\nAs of the truest and the beste wife                             promise*\r\nThat ever yet I knew in all my life.\r\nBut every wife beware of her behest;\r\nOn Dorigen remember at the least.\r\nThus can a squier do a gentle deed,\r\nAs well as can a knight, withoute drede.\u201d*                        *doubt\r\n\r\nShe thanked him upon her knees bare,\r\nAnd home unto her husband is she fare,*                            *gone\r\nAnd told him all, as ye have hearde said;\r\nAnd, truste me, he was so *well apaid,*                      *satisfied*\r\nThat it were impossible me to write.\r\nWhy should I longer of this case indite?\r\nArviragus and Dorigen his wife\r\nIn sov\u2019reign blisse ledde forth their life;\r\nNe\u2019er after was there anger them between;\r\nHe cherish\u2019d her as though she were a queen,\r\nAnd she was to him true for evermore;\r\nOf these two folk ye get of me no more.\r\n\r\nAurelius, that his cost had *all forlorn,*                *utterly lost*\r\nCursed the time that ever he was born.\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201calas that I behight*                        *promised\r\nOf pured* gold a thousand pound of weight                       *refined\r\nTo this philosopher! how shall I do?\r\nI see no more, but that I am fordo.*                     *ruined, undone\r\nMine heritage must I needes sell,\r\nAnd be a beggar; here I will not dwell,\r\nAnd shamen all my kindred in this place,\r\nBut* I of him may gette better grace.                            *unless\r\nBut natheless I will of him assay\r\nAt certain dayes year by year to pay,\r\nAnd thank him of his greate courtesy.\r\nMy trothe will I keep, I will not he.\u201d\r\nWith hearte sore he went unto his coffer,\r\nAnd broughte gold unto this philosopher,\r\nThe value of five hundred pound, I guess,\r\nAnd him beseeched, of his gentleness,\r\nTo grant him *dayes of* the remenant;                   *time to pay up*\r\nAnd said; \u201cMaster, I dare well make avaunt,\r\nI failed never of my truth as yet.\r\nFor sickerly my debte shall be quit\r\nTowardes you how so that e\u2019er I fare\r\nTo go a-begging in my kirtle bare:\r\nBut would ye vouchesafe, upon surety,\r\nTwo year, or three, for to respite me,\r\nThen were I well, for elles must I sell\r\nMine heritage; there is no more to tell.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis philosopher soberly* answer\u2019d,                             *gravely\r\nAnd saide thus, when he these wordes heard;\r\n\u201cHave I not holden covenant to thee?\u201d\r\n\u201cYes, certes, well and truely,\u201d quoth he.\r\n\u201cHast thou not had thy lady as thee liked?\u201d\r\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d quoth he, and sorrowfully siked.*                      *sighed\r\n\u201cWhat was the cause? tell me if thou can.\u201d\r\nAurelius his tale anon began,\r\nAnd told him all as ye have heard before,\r\nIt needeth not to you rehearse it more.\r\nHe said, \u201cArviragus of gentleness\r\nHad lever* die in sorrow and distress,                           *rather\r\nThan that his wife were of her trothe false.\u201d\r\nThe sorrow of Dorigen he told him als\u2019,*                           *also\r\nHow loth her was to be a wicked wife,\r\nAnd that she lever had lost that day her life;\r\nAnd that her troth she swore through innocence;\r\nShe ne\u2019er erst* had heard speak of apparence**   *before **see note <31>\r\nThat made me have of her so great pity,\r\nAnd right as freely as he sent her to me,\r\nAs freely sent I her to him again:\r\nThis is all and some, there is no more to sayn.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe philosopher answer\u2019d; \u201cLeve* brother,                          *dear\r\nEvereach of you did gently to the other;\r\nThou art a squier, and he is a knight,\r\nBut God forbidde, for his blissful might,\r\nBut if a clerk could do a gentle deed\r\nAs well as any of you, it is no drede*                            *doubt\r\nSir, I release thee thy thousand pound,\r\nAs thou right now were crept out of the ground,\r\nNor ever ere now haddest knowen me.\r\nFor, Sir, I will not take a penny of thee\r\nFor all my craft, nor naught for my travail;*             *labour, pains\r\nThou hast y-payed well for my vitaille;\r\nIt is enough; and farewell, have good day.\u201d\r\nAnd took his horse, and forth he went his way.\r\nLordings, this question would I aske now,\r\nWhich was the moste free,* as thinketh you?               *generous <32>\r\nNow telle me, ere that ye farther wend.\r\nI can* no more, my tale is at an end.                    *know, can tell\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The Franklin\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Well unnethes durst this knight for dread: This knight hardly\r\ndared,  for fear (that she would not entertain his suit.)\r\n\r\n2. \u201cNe woulde God never betwixt us twain,\r\nAs in my guilt, were either war or strife\u201d\r\nWould to God there may never be war or strife between us,\r\nthrough my fault.\r\n\r\n3. Perhaps the true reading is \u201cbeteth\u201d \u2014 prepares, makes ready,\r\nhis wings for flight.\r\n\r\n4. Penmark: On the west coast of Brittany, between Brest and\r\nL\u2019Orient.  The name is composed of two British words, \u201cpen,\u201d\r\nmountain, and \u201cmark,\u201d region; it therefore means the\r\nmountainous country\r\n\r\n5. Cairrud: \u201cThe red city;\u201d it is not known where it was\r\nsituated.\r\n\r\n6. Warished: cured; French, \u201cguerir,\u201d to heal, or recover from\r\nsickness.\r\n\r\n7. Annoyeth: works mischief; from Latin, \u201cnocco,\u201d I hurt.\r\n\r\n8. Virelays:  ballads; the \u201cvirelai\u201d was an ancient French poem\r\nof two rhymes.\r\n\r\n9. Lucina the sheen:  Diana the bright. See note 54 to the\r\nKnight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n10. In a Latin poem, very popular in Chaucer\u2019s time, Pamphilus\r\nrelates his amour with Galatea, setting out with the idea\r\nadopted by our poet in the lines that follow.\r\n\r\n11. Sursanure:  A wound healed on the surface, but festering\r\nbeneath.\r\n\r\n12. Orleans:  Where there was a celebrated and very famous\r\nuniversity, afterwards eclipsed by that of Paris.  It was founded\r\nby Philip le Bel in 1312.\r\n\r\n13. Every  halk and every hern: Every nook and corner, Anglo-\r\nSaxon, \u201chealc,\u201d a nook; \u201chyrn,\u201d a corner.\r\n\r\n14. Tregetoures: tricksters, jugglers. The word is probably\r\nderived \u2014 in \u201ctreget,\u201d deceit or imposture \u2014 from the French\r\n\u201ctrebuchet,\u201d a military machine; since it is evident that much and\r\nelaborate machinery must have been employed to produce the\r\neffects afterwards described. Another derivation is from the\r\nLow Latin, \u201ctricator,\u201d a deceiver.\r\n\r\n15. Lissed of: eased of; released from; another form of \u201cless\u201d or\r\n\u201clessen.\u201d\r\n\r\n16. Gironde:  The river, formed by the union of the Dordogne\r\nand Garonne, on which Bourdeaux stands.\r\n\r\n17. Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon: And even for\r\nthat sum he would not willingly go to work.\r\n\r\n18. \u201cNoel,\u201d the French for Christmas \u2014 derived from \u201cnatalis,\u201d\r\nand signifying that on that day Christ was born \u2014 came to be\r\nused as a festive cry by the people on solemn occasions.\r\n\r\n19. Tables Toletanes: Toledan tables; the astronomical tables\r\ncomposed by order Of Alphonso II, King of Castile, about 1250\r\nand so called because they were adapted to the city of Toledo.\r\n\r\n20. \u201cAlnath,\u201d Says Mr Wright, was \u201cthe first star in the horns of\r\nAries, whence the first mansion of the moon is named.\u201d\r\n\r\n21. Another and better reading is \u201ca week or two.\u201d\r\n\r\n22. These stories are all taken from the book of St Jerome\r\n\u201cContra Jovinianum,\u201d from which the Wife of Bath drew so\r\nmany of her ancient instances. See note 1 to the prologue to the\r\nWife of Bath\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n23. Panthea.  Abradatas, King of Susa, was an ally of the\r\nAssyrians against Cyrus; and his wife was taken at the conquest\r\nof the Assyrian camp.  Struck by the honourable treatment she\r\nreceived at the captors hands, Abradatas joined Cyrus, and fell\r\nin battle against his former alhes.  His wife, inconsolable at his\r\nloss, slew herself immediately.\r\n\r\n24. Protesilaus was the husband of Laedamia.  She begged the\r\ngods, after his death, that but three hours\u2019 converse with him\r\nmight be allowed her; the request was granted; and when her\r\ndead husband, at the expiry of the time, returned to the world of\r\nshades, she bore him company.\r\n\r\n25. The daughter of Cato of Utica, Porcia married Marcus\r\nBrutus, the friend and the assassin of Julius Caesar; when her\r\nhusband died by his own hand after the battle of Philippi, she\r\ncommitted suicide, it is said, by swallowing live coals \u2014 all\r\nother means having been removed by her friends.\r\n\r\n26. Artemisia, Queen of Caria, who built to her husband\r\nMausolus, the splendid monument which was accounted among\r\nthe wonders of the world; and who mingled her husband\u2019s ashes\r\nwith her daily drink. \u201cBarbarie\u201d is used in the Greek sense, to\r\ndesignate the non-Hellenic peoples of Asia.\r\n\r\n27. Teuta:  Queen of Illyria, who, after her husband\u2019s death,\r\nmade war on and was conquered by the Romans, B.C 228.\r\n\r\n28. At this point, in some manuscripts, occur thefollowing two\r\nlines: \u2014\r\n\u201cThe same thing I say of Bilia,\r\nOf Rhodegone and of Valeria.\u201d\r\n\r\n29. Bound:  prepared; going. To \u201cboun\u201d or \u201cbown\u201d is a good\r\nold word, whence comes our word \u201cbound,\u201d in the sense of \u201con\r\nthe way.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. That from his lust yet were him lever abide: He would\r\nrather do without his pleasure.\r\n\r\n31. Such apparence: such an ocular deception, or apparition \u2014\r\nmore properly, disappearance \u2014 as the removal of the rocks.\r\n\r\n32. The same question is stated a the end of Boccaccio\u2019s version\r\nof the story in the \u201cPhilocopo,\u201d where the queen determines in\r\nfavour of Aviragus. The question is evidently one of those\r\nwhich it was the fashion to propose for debate in the mediaeval\r\n\u201ccourts of love.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE DOCTOR\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE. <1>\r\n\r\n[\u201cYEA, let that passe,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201cas now.\r\nSir Doctor of Physik, I praye you,\r\nTell us a tale of some honest mattere.\u201d\r\n\u201cIt shall be done, if that ye will it hear,\u201d\r\nSaid this Doctor; and his tale gan anon.\r\n\u201cNow, good men,\u201d quoth he, \u201chearken everyone.\u201d]\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Doctor\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The authenticity of the prologue is questionable. It is found in\r\none manuscript only; other manuscripts give other prologues,\r\nmore plainly not Chaucer\u2019s than this; and some manuscripts\r\nhave merely a colophon to the effect that \u201cHere endeth the\r\nFranklin\u2019s Tale and beginneth the Physician\u2019s Tale without a\r\nprologue.\u201d The Tale itself is the well-known story of Virginia,\r\nwith several departures from the text of Livy. Chaucer probably\r\nfollowed the \u201cRomance of the Rose\u201d and Gower\u2019s \u201cConfessio\r\nAmantis,\u201d in both of which the story is found.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.\r\n\r\nThere was, as telleth Titus Livius, <1>\r\nA knight, that called was Virginius,\r\nFull filled of honour and worthiness,\r\nAnd strong of friendes, and of great richess.\r\nThis knight one daughter hadde by his wife;\r\nNo children had he more in all his life.\r\nFair was this maid in excellent beauty\r\nAboven ev\u2019ry wight that man may see:\r\nFor nature had with sov\u2019reign diligence\r\nY-formed her in so great excellence,\r\nAs though she woulde say, \u201cLo, I, Nature,\r\nThus can I form and paint a creature,\r\nWhen that me list; who can me counterfeit?\r\nPygmalion? not though he aye forge and beat,\r\nOr grave or painte: for I dare well sayn,\r\nApelles, Zeuxis, shoulde work in vain,\r\nEither to grave, or paint, or forge, or beat,\r\nIf they presumed me to counterfeit.\r\nFor he that is the former principal,\r\nHath made me his vicar-general\r\nTo form and painten earthly creatures\r\nRight as me list, and all thing in my cure* is,                    *care\r\nUnder the moone, that may wane and wax.\r\nAnd for my work right nothing will I ax*                            *ask\r\nMy lord and I be full of one accord.\r\nI made her to the worship* of my lord;\r\nSo do I all mine other creatures,\r\nWhat colour that they have, or what figures.\u201d\r\nThus seemeth me that Nature woulde say.\r\n\r\nThis maiden was of age twelve year and tway,*                       *two\r\nIn which that Nature hadde such delight.\r\nFor right as she can paint a lily white,\r\nAnd red a rose, right with such painture\r\nShe painted had this noble creature,\r\nEre she was born, upon her limbes free,\r\nWhere as by right such colours shoulde be:\r\nAnd Phoebus dyed had her tresses great,\r\nLike to the streames* of his burned heat.                   *beams, rays\r\nAnd if that excellent was her beauty,\r\nA thousand-fold more virtuous was she.\r\nIn her there lacked no condition,\r\nThat is to praise, as by discretion.\r\nAs well in ghost* as body chaste was she:                  *mind, spirit\r\nFor which she flower\u2019d in virginity,\r\nWith all humility and abstinence,\r\nWith alle temperance and patience,\r\nWith measure* eke of bearing and array.                      *moderation\r\nDiscreet she was in answering alway,\r\nThough she were wise as Pallas, dare I sayn;\r\nHer faconde* eke full womanly and plain,                     *speech <2>\r\nNo counterfeited termes hadde she\r\nTo seeme wise; but after her degree\r\nShe spake, and all her worde\u2019s more and less\r\nSounding in virtue and in gentleness.\r\nShamefast she was in maiden\u2019s shamefastness,\r\nConstant in heart, and ever *in business*              *diligent, eager*\r\nTo drive her out of idle sluggardy:\r\nBacchus had of her mouth right no mast\u2019ry.\r\nFor wine and slothe <3> do Venus increase,\r\nAs men in fire will casten oil and grease.\r\nAnd of her owen virtue, unconstrain\u2019d,\r\nShe had herself full often sick y-feign\u2019d,\r\nFor that she woulde flee the company,\r\nWhere likely was to treaten of folly,\r\nAs is at feasts, at revels, and at dances,\r\nThat be occasions of dalliances.\r\nSuch thinges make children for to be\r\nToo soone ripe and bold, as men may see,\r\nWhich is full perilous, and hath been yore;*                     *of old\r\nFor all too soone may she learne lore\r\nOf boldeness, when that she is a wife.\r\n\r\nAnd ye mistresses,* in your olde life              *governesses, duennas\r\nThat lordes\u2019 daughters have in governance,\r\nTake not of my wordes displeasance\r\nThinke that ye be set in governings\r\nOf lordes\u2019 daughters only for two things;\r\nEither for ye have kept your honesty,\r\nOr else for ye have fallen in frailty\r\nAnd knowe well enough the olde dance,\r\nAnd have forsaken fully such meschance*                  *wickedness <4>\r\nFor evermore; therefore, for Christe\u2019s sake,\r\nTo teach them virtue look that ye not slake.*            *be slack, fail\r\nA thief of venison, that hath forlaft*                   *forsaken, left\r\nHis lik\u2019rousness,* and all his olde craft,                     *gluttony\r\nCan keep a forest best of any man;\r\nNow keep them well, for if ye will ye can.\r\nLook well, that ye unto no vice assent,\r\nLest ye be damned for your wick\u2019*  intent,                 *wicked, evil\r\nFor whoso doth, a traitor is certain;\r\nAnd take keep* of that I shall you sayn;                           *heed\r\nOf alle treason, sov\u2019reign pestilence\r\nIs when a wight betrayeth innocence.\r\nYe fathers, and ye mothers eke also,\r\nThough ye have children, be it one or mo\u2019,\r\nYours is the charge of all their surveyance,*               *supervision\r\nWhile that they be under your governance.\r\nBeware, that by example of your living,\r\nOr by your negligence in chastising,\r\nThat they not perish for I dare well say,\r\nIf that they do, ye shall it dear abeye.*           *pay for, suffer for\r\nUnder a shepherd soft and negligent\r\nThe wolf hath many a sheep and lamb to-rent.\r\nSuffice this example now as here,\r\nFor I must turn again to my mattere.\r\n\r\nThis maid, of which I tell my tale express,\r\nShe kept herself, her needed no mistress;\r\nFor in her living maidens mighte read,\r\nAs in a book, ev\u2019ry good word and deed\r\nThat longeth to a maiden virtuous;\r\nShe was so prudent and so bounteous.\r\nFor which the fame out sprang on every side\r\nBoth of her beauty and her bounte* wide:                       *goodness\r\nThat through the land they praised her each one\r\nThat loved virtue, save envy alone,\r\nThat sorry is of other manne\u2019s weal,\r\nAnd glad is of his sorrow and unheal* \u2014                     *misfortune\r\nThe Doctor maketh this descriptioun. \u2014 <5>\r\nThis maiden on a day went in the town\r\nToward a temple, with her mother dear,\r\nAs is of younge maidens the mannere.\r\nNow was there then a justice in that town,\r\nThat governor was of that regioun:\r\nAnd so befell, this judge his eyen cast\r\nUpon this maid, avising* her full fast,                       *observing\r\nAs she came forth by where this judge stood;\r\nAnon his hearte changed and his mood,\r\nSo was he caught with beauty of this maid\r\nAnd to himself full privily he said,\r\n\u201cThis maiden shall be mine *for any man.\u201d*             *despite what any\r\nAnon the fiend into his hearte ran,                          man may do*\r\nAnd taught him suddenly, that he by sleight\r\nThis maiden to his purpose winne might.\r\nFor certes, by no force, nor by no meed,*                 *bribe, reward\r\nHim thought he was not able for to speed;\r\nFor she was strong of friendes, and eke she\r\nConfirmed was in such sov\u2019reign bounte,\r\nThat well he wist he might her never win,\r\nAs for to make her with her body sin.\r\nFor which, with great deliberatioun,\r\nHe sent after a clerk <6>  was in the town,\r\nThe which he knew for subtle and for bold.\r\nThis judge unto this clerk his tale told\r\nIn secret wise, and made him to assure\r\nHe shoulde tell it to no creature,\r\nAnd if he did, he shoulde lose his head.\r\nAnd when assented was this cursed rede,*                  *counsel, plot\r\nGlad was the judge, and made him greate cheer,\r\nAnd gave him giftes precious and dear.\r\nWhen shapen* was all their conspiracy                          *arranged\r\nFrom point to point, how that his lechery\r\nPerformed shoulde be full subtilly,\r\nAs ye shall hear it after openly,\r\nHome went this clerk, that highte Claudius.\r\nThis false judge, that highte Appius, \u2014\r\n(So was his name, for it is no fable,\r\nBut knowen for a storial*  thing notable;         *historical, authentic\r\nThe sentence* of it sooth** is out of doubt); \u2014         *account **true\r\nThis false judge went now fast about\r\nTo hasten his delight all that he may.\r\nAnd so befell, soon after on a day,\r\nThis false judge, as telleth us the story,\r\nAs he was wont, sat in his consistory,\r\nAnd gave his doomes* upon sundry case\u2019;                       *judgments\r\nThis false clerk came forth *a full great pace,*               *in haste\r\nAnd saide; Lord, if that it be your will,\r\nAs do me right upon this piteous bill,*                        *petition\r\nIn which I plain upon Virginius.\r\nAnd if that he will say it is not thus,\r\nI will it prove, and finde good witness,\r\nThat sooth is what my bille will express.\u201d\r\nThe judge answer\u2019d, \u201cOf this, in his absence,\r\nI may not give definitive sentence.\r\nLet do* him call, and I will gladly hear;                         *cause\r\nThou shalt have alle right, and no wrong here.\u201d\r\nVirginius came to weet* the judge\u2019s will,                   *know, learn\r\nAnd right anon was read this cursed bill;\r\nThe sentence of it was as ye shall hear\r\n\u201cTo you, my lord, Sir Appius so clear,\r\nSheweth your poore servant Claudius,\r\nHow that a knight called Virginius,\r\nAgainst the law, against all equity,\r\nHoldeth, express against the will of me,\r\nMy servant, which that is my thrall* by right,                    *slave\r\nWhich from my house was stolen on a night,\r\nWhile that she was full young; I will it preve*                   *prove\r\nBy witness, lord, so that it you *not grieve;*      *be not displeasing*\r\nShe is his daughter not, what so he say.\r\nWherefore to you, my lord the judge, I pray,\r\nYield me my thrall, if that it be your will.\u201d\r\nLo, this was all the sentence of the bill.\r\nVirginius gan upon the clerk behold;\r\nBut hastily, ere he his tale told,\r\nAnd would have proved it, as should a knight,\r\nAnd eke by witnessing of many a wight,\r\nThat all was false that said his adversary,\r\nThis cursed judge would no longer tarry,\r\nNor hear a word more of Virginius,\r\nBut gave his judgement, and saide thus:\r\n\u201cI deem* anon this clerk his servant have;         *pronounce, determine\r\nThou shalt no longer in thy house her save.\r\nGo, bring her forth, and put her in our ward\r\nThe clerk shall have his thrall: thus I award.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd when this worthy knight, Virginius,\r\nThrough sentence of this justice Appius,\r\nMuste by force his deare daughter give\r\nUnto the judge, in lechery to live,\r\nHe went him home, and sat him in his hall,\r\nAnd let anon his deare daughter call;\r\nAnd with a face dead as ashes cold\r\nUpon her humble face he gan behold,\r\nWith father\u2019s pity sticking* through his heart,                *piercing\r\nAll* would he from his purpose not convert.**     *although **turn aside\r\n\u201cDaughter,\u201d quoth he, \u201cVirginia by name,\r\nThere be two wayes, either death or shame,\r\nThat thou must suffer, \u2014 alas that I was bore!*                   *born\r\nFor never thou deservedest wherefore\r\nTo dien with a sword or with a knife,\r\nO deare daughter, ender of my life,\r\nWhom I have foster\u2019d up with such pleasance\r\nThat thou were ne\u2019er out of my remembrance;\r\nO daughter, which that art my laste woe,\r\nAnd in this life my laste joy also,\r\nO gem of chastity, in patience\r\nTake thou thy death, for this is my sentence:\r\nFor love and not for hate thou must be dead;\r\nMy piteous hand must smiten off thine head.\r\nAlas, that ever Appius thee say!*                                   *saw\r\nThus hath he falsely judged thee to-day.\u201d\r\nAnd told her all the case, as ye before\r\nHave heard; it needeth not to tell it more.\r\n\r\n\u201cO mercy, deare father,\u201d quoth the maid.\r\nAnd with that word she both her armes laid\r\nAbout his neck, as she was wont to do,\r\n(The teares burst out of her eyen two),\r\nAnd said, \u201cO goode father, shall I die?\r\nIs there no grace? is there no remedy?\u201d\r\n\u201cNo, certes, deare daughter mine,\u201d quoth he.\r\n\u201cThen give me leisure, father mine, quoth she,\r\n\u201cMy death for to complain* a little space                        *bewail\r\nFor, pardie, Jephthah gave his daughter grace\r\nFor to complain, ere he her slew, alas! <7>\r\nAnd, God it wot, nothing was her trespass,*                     *offence\r\nBut for she ran her father first to see,\r\nTo welcome him with great solemnity.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word she fell a-swoon anon;\r\nAnd after, when her swooning was y-gone,\r\nShe rose up, and unto her father said:\r\n\u201cBlessed be God, that I shall die a maid.\r\nGive me my death, ere that I have shame;\r\nDo with your child your will, in Godde\u2019s name.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word she prayed him full oft\r\nThat with his sword he woulde smite her soft;\r\nAnd with that word, a-swoon again she fell.\r\nHer father, with full sorrowful heart and fell,*           *stern, cruel\r\nHer head off smote, and by the top it hent,*                       *took\r\nAnd to the judge he went it to present,\r\nAs he sat yet in doom* in consistory.                          *judgment\r\n\r\nAnd when the judge it saw, as saith the story,\r\nHe bade to take him, and to hang him fast.\r\nBut right anon a thousand people *in thrast*                 *rushed in*\r\nTo save the knight, for ruth and for pity\r\nFor knowen was the false iniquity.\r\nThe people anon had suspect* in this thing,                   *suspicion\r\nBy manner of the clerke\u2019s challenging,\r\nThat it was by th\u2019assent of Appius;\r\nThey wiste well that he was lecherous.\r\nFor which unto this Appius they gon,\r\nAnd cast him in a prison right anon,\r\nWhere as he slew himself: and Claudius,\r\nThat servant was unto this Appius,\r\nWas doomed for to hang upon a tree;\r\nBut that Virginius, of his pity,\r\nSo prayed for him, that he was exil\u2019d;\r\nAnd elles certes had he been beguil\u2019d;*                    *see note <8>\r\nThe remenant were hanged, more and less,\r\nThat were consenting to this cursedness.*                      *villainy\r\nHere men may see how sin hath his merite:*                      *deserts\r\nBeware, for no man knows how God will smite\r\nIn no degree, nor in which manner wise\r\nThe worm of conscience may agrise*                     frighten, horrify\r\nOf  wicked life, though it so privy be,\r\nThat no man knows thereof, save God and he;\r\nFor be he lewed* man or elles lear\u2019d,**              *ignorant **learned\r\nHe knows not how soon he shall be afear\u2019d;\r\nTherefore I rede* you this counsel take,                         *advise\r\nForsake sin, ere sinne you forsake.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Doctor\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Livy, Book iii. cap. 44, et seqq.\r\n\r\n2. Faconde: utterance, speech; from Latin, \u201cfacundia,\u201d\r\neloquence.\r\n\r\n3. Slothe: other readings are \u201cthought\u201d and \u201cyouth.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. Meschance: wickedness; French, \u201cmechancete.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. This line seems to be a kind of aside thrown in by Chaucer\r\nhimself.\r\n\r\n6. The various readings of this word are \u201cchurl,\u201d or \u201ccherl,\u201d in\r\nthe best manuscripts; \u201cclient\u201d in the common editions, and\r\n\u201cclerk\u201d supported by two important manuscripts. \u201cClient\u201d\r\nwould perhaps be the best reading, if it were not awkward for\r\nthe metre; but between \u201cchurl\u201d and \u201cclerk\u201d there can be little\r\ndoubt that Mr Wright chose wisely when he preferred the\r\nsecond.\r\n\r\n7. Judges xi. 37, 38.  \u201cAnd she said unto her father,\r\nLet .  . . me alone two months, that I may go up and down upon\r\nthe mountains, and bewail my virginity, I and my fellows.  And\r\nhe said, go.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Beguiled: \u201ccast into gaol,\u201d according to Urry\u2019s explanation;\r\nthough we should probably understand that, if Claudius had not\r\nbeen sent out of the country, his death would have been secretly\r\ncontrived through private detestation.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PARDONER\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nOUR Hoste gan to swear as he were wood;\r\n\u201cHarow!\u201d quoth he, \u201cby nailes and by blood, <1>\r\nThis was a cursed thief, a false justice.\r\nAs shameful death as hearte can devise\r\nCome to these judges and their advoca\u2019s.*        *advocates, counsellors\r\nAlgate* this sely** maid is slain, alas!        *nevertheless **innocent\r\nAlas! too deare bought she her beauty.\r\nWherefore I say, that all day man may see\r\nThat giftes of fortune and of nature\r\nBe cause of death to many a creature.\r\nHer beauty was her death, I dare well sayn;\r\nAlas! so piteously as she was slain.\r\n[Of bothe giftes, that I speak of now\r\nMen have full often more harm than prow,*]                       *profit\r\nBut truely, mine owen master dear,\r\nThis was a piteous tale for to hear;\r\nBut natheless, pass over; \u2019tis *no force.*                   *no matter*\r\nI pray to God to save thy gentle corse,*                           *body\r\nAnd eke thine urinals, and thy jordans,\r\nThine Hippocras, and eke thy Galliens, <2>\r\nAnd every boist* full of thy lectuary,                          *box <3>\r\nGod bless them, and our lady Sainte Mary.\r\nSo may I the\u2019,* thou art a proper man,                           *thrive\r\nAnd like a prelate, by Saint Ronian;\r\nSaid I not well? Can I not speak *in term?*                *in set form*\r\nBut well I wot thou dost* mine heart to erme,**      *makest **grieve<4>\r\nThat I have almost caught a cardiacle:*                   *heartache <5>\r\nBy corpus Domini <6>, but* I have triacle,**          *unless **a remedy\r\nOr else a draught of moist and corny <7> ale,\r\nOr but* I hear anon a merry tale,                                *unless\r\nMine heart is brost* for pity of this maid.               *burst, broken\r\nThou *bel ami,*  thou Pardoner,\u201d he said,                  *good friend*\r\n\u201cTell us some mirth of japes* right anon.\u201d                        *jokes\r\n\u201cIt shall be done,\u201d quoth he, \u201cby Saint Ronion.\r\nBut first,\u201d quoth he, \u201chere at this ale-stake*       *ale-house sign <8>\r\nI will both drink, and biten on a cake.\u201d\r\nBut right anon the gentles gan to cry,\r\n\u201cNay, let him tell us of no ribaldry.\r\nTell us some moral thing, that we may lear*                       *learn\r\nSome wit,* and thenne will we gladly hear.\u201d               *wisdom, sense\r\n\u201cI grant y-wis,\u201d* quoth he; \u201cbut I must think                    *surely\r\nUpon some honest thing while that I drink.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Pardoner\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The nails and blood of Christ, by which it was then a fashion\r\nto swear.\r\n\r\n2. Mediaeval medical writers; see note 36 to the Prologue to the\r\nTales.\r\n\r\n3. Boist: box; French  \u201cboite,\u201d old form \u201cboiste.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. Erme: grieve; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cearme,\u201d wretched.\r\n\r\n5. Cardiacle:  heartache; from Greek, \u201ckardialgia.\u201d\r\n\r\n6. Corpus Domini: God\u2019s body.\r\n\r\n7. Corny ale:  New and strong, nappy. As to \u201cmoist,\u201d see note\r\n39 to the Prologue to the Tales.\r\n\r\n8. (Transcriber\u2019s Note)In this scene the pilgrims are refreshing\r\nthemselves at tables in front of an inn.  The pardoner is drunk,\r\nwhich explains his boastful and revealing confession of his\r\ndeceits.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE <1>\r\n\r\nLordings (quoth he), in churche when I preach,\r\nI paine me to have an hautein* speech,            *take pains **loud <2>\r\nAnd ring it out, as round as doth a bell,\r\nFor I know all by rote that I tell.\r\nMy theme is always one, and ever was;\r\nRadix malorum est cupiditas.<3>\r\nFirst I pronounce whence that I come,\r\nAnd then my bulles shew I all and some;\r\nOur liege lorde\u2019s seal on my patent,\r\nThat shew I first, *my body to warrent,*             *for the protection\r\nThat no man be so hardy, priest nor clerk,                 of my person*\r\nMe to disturb of Christe\u2019s holy werk.\r\nAnd after that then tell I forth my tales.\r\nBulles of popes, and of cardinales,\r\nOf patriarchs, and of bishops I shew,\r\nAnd in Latin I speak a wordes few,\r\nTo savour with my predication,\r\nAnd for to stir men to devotion\r\nThen show I forth my longe crystal stones,\r\nY-crammed fall of cloutes* and of bones;                *rags, fragments\r\nRelics they be, as *weene they* each one.        *as my listeners think*\r\nThen have I in latoun* a shoulder-bone                            *brass\r\nWhich that was of a holy Jewe\u2019s sheep.\r\n\u201cGood men,\u201d say I, \u201ctake of my wordes keep;*                       *heed\r\nIf that this bone be wash\u2019d in any well,\r\nIf cow, or calf, or sheep, or oxe swell,\r\nThat any worm hath eat, or worm y-stung,\r\nTake water of that well, and wash his tongue,\r\nAnd it is whole anon; and farthermore\r\nOf pockes, and of scab, and every sore\r\nShall every sheep be whole, that of this well\r\nDrinketh a draught; take keep* of that I tell.                     *heed\r\n\r\n\u201cIf that the goodman, that the beastes oweth,*                   *owneth\r\nWill every week, ere that the cock him croweth,\r\nFasting, y-drinken of this well a draught,\r\nAs thilke holy Jew our elders taught,\r\nHis beastes and his store shall multiply.\r\nAnd, Sirs, also it healeth jealousy;\r\nFor though a man be fall\u2019n in jealous rage,\r\nLet make with this water his pottage,\r\nAnd never shall he more his wife mistrist,*                    *mistrust\r\n*Though he the sooth of her defaulte wist;*             *though he truly\r\nAll had she taken priestes two or three. <4>               knew her sin*\r\nHere is a mittain* eke, that ye may see;                  *glove, mitten\r\nHe that his hand will put in this mittain,\r\nHe shall have multiplying of his grain,\r\nWhen he hath sowen, be it wheat or oats,\r\nSo that he offer pence, or elles groats.\r\nAnd, men and women, one thing warn I you;\r\nIf any wight be in this churche now\r\nThat hath done sin horrible, so that he\r\nDare not for shame of it y-shriven* be;                       *confessed\r\nOr any woman, be she young or old,\r\nThat hath y-made her husband cokewold,*                         *cuckold\r\nSuch folk shall have no power nor no grace\r\nTo offer to my relics in this place.\r\nAnd whoso findeth him out of such blame,\r\nHe will come up and offer in God\u2019s name;\r\nAnd I assoil* him by the authority                              *absolve\r\nWhich that by bull y-granted was to me.\u201d\r\n\r\nBy this gaud* have I wonne year by year                     *jest, trick\r\nA hundred marks, since I was pardonere.\r\nI stande like a clerk in my pulpit,\r\nAnd when the lewed* people down is set,                        *ignorant\r\nI preache so as ye have heard before,\r\nAnd telle them a hundred japes* more.                    *jests, deceits\r\nThen pain I me to stretche forth my neck,\r\nAnd east and west upon the people I beck,\r\nAs doth a dove, sitting on a bern;*                                *barn\r\nMy handes and my tongue go so yern,*                            *briskly\r\nThat it is joy to see my business.\r\nOf avarice and of such cursedness*                           *wickedness\r\nIs all my preaching, for to make them free\r\nTo give their pence, and namely* unto me.                    *especially\r\nFor mine intent is not but for to win,\r\nAnd nothing for correction of sin.\r\nI recke never, when that they be buried,\r\nThough that their soules go a blackburied.<5>\r\nFor certes *many a predication              *preaching is often inspired\r\nCometh oft-time of evil intention;*                     by evil motives*\r\nSome for pleasance of folk, and flattery,\r\nTo be advanced by hypocrisy;\r\nAnd some for vainglory, and some for hate.\r\nFor, when I dare not otherwise debate,\r\nThen will I sting him with my tongue smart*                     *sharply\r\nIn preaching, so that he shall not astart*                       *escape\r\nTo be defamed falsely, if that he\r\nHath trespass\u2019d* to my brethren or to me.                      *offended\r\nFor, though I telle not his proper name,\r\nMen shall well knowe that it is the same\r\nBy signes, and by other circumstances.\r\nThus *quite I* folk that do us displeasances:         *I am revenged on*\r\nThus spit I out my venom, under hue\r\nOf holiness, to seem holy and true.\r\nBut, shortly mine intent I will devise,\r\nI preach of nothing but of covetise.\r\nTherefore my theme is yet, and ever was, \u2014\r\nRadix malorum est cupiditas. <3>\r\nThus can I preach against the same vice\r\nWhich that I use, and that is avarice.\r\nBut though myself be guilty in that sin,\r\nYet can I maken other folk to twin*                              *depart\r\nFrom avarice, and sore them repent.\r\nBut that is not my principal intent;\r\nI preache nothing but for covetise.\r\nOf this mattere it ought enough suffice.\r\nThen tell I them examples many a one,\r\nOf olde stories longe time gone;\r\nFor lewed* people love tales old;                             *unlearned\r\nSuch thinges can they well report and hold.\r\nWhat? trowe ye, that whiles I may preach\r\nAnd winne gold and silver for* I teach,                         *because\r\nThat I will live in povert\u2019 wilfully?\r\nNay, nay, I thought it never truely.\r\nFor I will preach and beg in sundry lands;\r\nI will not do no labour with mine hands,\r\nNor make baskets for to live thereby,\r\nBecause I will not beggen idlely.\r\nI will none of the apostles counterfeit;*          *imitate (in poverty)\r\nI will have money, wool, and cheese, and wheat,\r\nAll* were it given of the poorest page,                         *even if\r\nOr of the pooreste widow in a village:\r\nAll should her children sterve* for famine.                         *die\r\nNay, I will drink the liquor of the vine,\r\nAnd have a jolly wench in every town.\r\nBut hearken, lordings, in conclusioun;\r\nYour liking is, that I shall tell a tale\r\nNow I have drunk a draught of corny ale,\r\nBy God, I hope I shall you tell a thing\r\nThat shall by reason be to your liking;\r\nFor though myself be a full vicious man,\r\nA moral tale yet I you telle can,\r\nWhich I am wont to preache, for to win.\r\nNow hold your peace, my tale I will begin.\r\n\r\nIn Flanders whilom was a company\r\nOf younge folkes, that haunted folly,\r\nAs riot, hazard, stewes,* and taverns;                         *brothels\r\nWhere as with lutes, harpes, and giterns,*                      *guitars\r\nThey dance and play at dice both day and night,\r\nAnd eat also, and drink over their might;\r\nThrough which they do the devil sacrifice\r\nWithin the devil\u2019s temple, in cursed wise,\r\nBy superfluity abominable.\r\nTheir oathes be so great and so damnable,\r\nThat it is grisly* for to hear them swear.                 *dreadful <6>\r\nOur blissful Lorde\u2019s body they to-tear;*             *tore to pieces <7>\r\nThem thought the Jewes rent him not enough,\r\nAnd each of them at other\u2019s sinne lough.*                       *laughed\r\nAnd right anon in come tombesteres <8>\r\nFetis* and small, and younge fruitesteres.**       *dainty **fruit-girls\r\nSingers with harpes, baudes,* waferers,**      *revellers **cake-sellers\r\nWhich be the very devil\u2019s officers,\r\nTo kindle and blow the fire of lechery,\r\nThat is annexed unto gluttony.\r\nThe Holy Writ take I to my witness,\r\nThat luxury is in wine and drunkenness. <9>\r\nLo, how that drunken Lot unkindely*                         *unnaturally\r\nLay by his daughters two unwittingly,\r\nSo drunk he was he knew not what he wrought.\r\nHerodes, who so well the stories sought, <10>\r\nWhen he of wine replete was at his feast,\r\nRight at his owen table gave his hest*                          *command\r\nTo slay the Baptist John full guilteless.\r\nSeneca saith a good word, doubteless:\r\nHe saith he can no difference find\r\nBetwixt a man that is out of his mind,\r\nAnd a man whiche that is drunkelew:*                    *a drunkard <11>\r\nBut that woodness,* y-fallen in a shrew,*   *madness **one evil-tempered\r\nPersevereth longer than drunkenness.\r\n\r\nO gluttony, full of all cursedness;\r\nO cause first of our confusion,\r\nOriginal of our damnation,\r\nTill Christ had bought us with his blood again!\r\nLooke, how deare, shortly for to sayn,\r\nAbought* was first this cursed villainy:                     *atoned for\r\nCorrupt was all this world for gluttony.\r\nAdam our father, and his wife also,\r\nFrom Paradise, to labour and to woe,\r\nWere driven for that vice, it is no dread.*                       *doubt\r\nFor while that Adam fasted, as I read,\r\nHe was in Paradise; and when that he\r\nAte of the fruit defended* of the tree,                  *forbidden <12>\r\nAnon he was cast out to woe and pain.\r\nO gluttony! well ought us on thee plain.\r\nOh! wist a man how many maladies\r\nFollow of excess and of gluttonies,\r\nHe woulde be the more measurable*                              *moderate\r\nOf his diete, sitting at his table.\r\nAlas! the shorte throat, the tender mouth,\r\nMaketh that east and west, and north and south,\r\nIn earth, in air, in water, men do swink*                        *labour\r\nTo get a glutton dainty meat and drink.\r\nOf this mattere, O Paul! well canst thou treat\r\nMeat unto womb,* and womb eke unto meat,                          *belly\r\nShall God destroye both, as Paulus saith. <13>\r\nAlas! a foul thing is it, by my faith,\r\nTo say this word, and fouler is the deed,\r\nWhen man so drinketh of the *white and red,*                 *i.e. wine*\r\nThat of his throat he maketh his privy\r\nThrough thilke cursed superfluity\r\nThe apostle saith, <14> weeping full piteously,\r\nThere walk many, of which you told have I, \u2014\r\nI say it now weeping with piteous voice, \u2014\r\nThat they be enemies of Christe\u2019s crois;*                         *cross\r\nOf which the end is death; womb* is their God.                    *belly\r\nO womb, O belly, stinking is thy cod,*                         *bag <15>\r\nFull fill\u2019d of dung and of corruptioun;\r\nAt either end of thee foul is the soun.\r\nHow great labour and cost is thee to find!*                      *supply\r\nThese cookes how they stamp, and strain, and grind,\r\nAnd turne substance into accident,\r\nTo fulfill all thy likerous talent!\r\nOut of the harde bones knocke they\r\nThe marrow, for they caste naught away\r\nThat may go through the gullet soft and swoot*                    *sweet\r\nOf spicery and leaves, of bark and root,\r\nShall be his sauce y-maked by delight,\r\nTo make him have a newer appetite.\r\nBut, certes, he that haunteth such delices\r\nIs dead while that he liveth in those vices.\r\n\r\nA lecherous thing is wine, and drunkenness\r\nIs full of striving and of wretchedness.\r\nO drunken man! disfgur\u2019d is thy face,<16>\r\nSour is thy breath, foul art thou to embrace:\r\nAnd through thy drunken nose sowneth the soun\u2019,\r\nAs though thous saidest aye, Samsoun! Samsoun!\r\nAnd yet, God wot, Samson drank never wine.\r\nThou fallest as it were a sticked swine;\r\nThy tongue is lost, and all thine honest cure;*                    *care\r\nFor drunkenness is very sepulture*                                 *tomb\r\nOf manne\u2019s wit and his discretion.\r\nIn whom that drink hath domination,\r\nHe can no counsel keep, it is no dread.*                          *doubt\r\nNow keep you from the white and from the red,\r\nAnd namely* from the white wine of Lepe,<17>                 *especially\r\nThat is to sell in Fish Street <18> and in Cheap.\r\nThis wine of Spaine creepeth subtilly  \u2014\r\nIn other wines growing faste by,\r\nOf which there riseth such fumosity,\r\nThat when a man hath drunken draughtes three,\r\nAnd weeneth that he be at home in Cheap,\r\nHe is in Spain, right at the town of Lepe,\r\nNot at the Rochelle, nor at Bourdeaux town;\r\nAnd thenne will he say, Samsoun! Samsoun!\r\nBut hearken, lordings, one word, I you pray,\r\nThat all the sovreign actes, dare I say,\r\nOf victories in the Old Testament,\r\nThrough very God that is omnipotent,\r\nWere done in abstinence and in prayere:\r\nLook in the Bible, and there ye may it lear.*                     *learn\r\nLook, Attila, the greate conqueror,\r\nDied in his sleep, <19> with shame and dishonour,\r\nBleeding aye at his nose in drunkenness:\r\nA captain should aye live in soberness\r\nAnd o\u2019er all this, advise* you right well             *consider, bethink\r\nWhat was commanded unto Lemuel; <20>\r\nNot Samuel, but Lemuel, say I.\r\nReade the Bible, and find it expressly\r\nOf wine giving to them that have justice.\r\nNo more of this, for it may well suffice.\r\n\r\nAnd, now that I have spoke of gluttony,\r\nNow will I you *defende hazardry.*                     *forbid gambling*\r\nHazard is very mother of leasings,*                                *lies\r\nAnd of deceit, and cursed forswearings:\r\nBlasphem\u2019 of Christ, manslaughter, and waste also\r\nOf chattel* and of time; and furthermo\u2019                        *property\r\nIt is repreve,* and contrar\u2019 of honour,                        *reproach\r\nFor to be held a common hazardour.\r\nAnd ever the higher he is of estate,\r\nThe more he is holden desolate.*                      *undone, worthless\r\nIf that a prince use hazardry,\r\nIn alle governance and policy\r\nHe is, as by common opinion,\r\nY-hold the less in reputation.\r\n\r\nChilon, that was a wise ambassador,\r\nWas sent to Corinth with full great honor\r\nFrom Lacedemon, <21> to make alliance;\r\nAnd when he came, it happen\u2019d him, by chance,\r\nThat all the greatest that were of that land,\r\nY-playing atte hazard he them fand.*                              *found\r\nFor which, as soon as that it mighte be,\r\nHe stole him home again to his country\r\nAnd saide there, \u201cI will not lose my name,\r\nNor will I take on me so great diffame,*                       *reproach\r\nYou to ally unto no hazardors.*                                *gamblers\r\nSende some other wise ambassadors,\r\nFor, by my troth, me were lever* die,                            *rather\r\nThan I should you to hazardors ally.\r\nFor ye, that be so glorious in honours,\r\nShall not ally you to no hazardours,\r\nAs by my will, nor as by my treaty.\u201d\r\nThis wise philosopher thus said he.\r\nLook eke how to the King Demetrius\r\nThe King of Parthes, as the book saith us,\r\nSent him a pair of dice of gold in scorn,\r\nFor he had used hazard therebeforn:\r\nFor which he held his glory and renown\r\nAt no value or reputatioun.\r\nLordes may finden other manner play\r\nHonest enough to drive the day away.\r\n\r\nNow will I speak of oathes false and great\r\nA word or two, as olde bookes treat.\r\nGreat swearing is a thing abominable,\r\nAnd false swearing is more reprovable.\r\nThe highe God forbade swearing at all;\r\nWitness on Matthew: <22> but in special\r\nOf swearing saith the holy Jeremie, <23>\r\nThou thalt swear sooth thine oathes, and not lie:\r\nAnd swear in doom* and eke in righteousness;                  *judgement\r\nBut idle swearing is a cursedness.*                          *wickedness\r\nBehold and see, there in the firste table\r\nOf highe Godde\u2019s hestes* honourable,                       *commandments\r\nHow that the second best of him is this,\r\nTake not my name in idle* or amiss.                             *in vain\r\nLo, rather* he forbiddeth such swearing,                         *sooner\r\nThan homicide, or many a cursed thing;\r\nI say that as by order thus it standeth;\r\nThis knoweth he that his hests* understandeth,             *commandments\r\nHow that the second hest of God is that.\r\nAnd farthermore, I will thee tell all plat,*            *flatly, plainly\r\nThat vengeance shall not parte from his house,\r\nThat of his oathes is outrageous.\r\n\u201cBy Godde\u2019s precious heart, and by his nails, <24>\r\nAnd by the blood of Christ, that is in Hailes, <25>\r\nSeven is my chance, and thine is cinque and trey:\r\nBy Godde\u2019s armes, if thou falsely play,\r\nThis dagger shall throughout thine hearte go.\u201d\r\nThis fruit comes of the *bicched bones two,*   *two cursed bones (dice)*\r\nForswearing, ire, falseness, and homicide.\r\nNow, for the love of Christ that for us died,\r\nLeave your oathes, bothe great and smale.\r\nBut, Sirs, now will I ell you forth my tale.\r\n\r\nThese riotoures three, of which I tell,\r\nLong *erst than* prime rang of any bell,                         *before\r\nWere set them in a tavern for to drink;\r\nAnd as they sat, they heard a belle clink\r\nBefore a corpse, was carried to the grave.\r\nThat one of them gan calle to his knave,*                       *servant\r\n\u201cGo bet,\u201d <26> quoth he, \u201cand aske readily\r\nWhat corpse is this, that passeth here forth by;\r\nAnd look that thou report his name well.\u201d\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth the boy, \u201cit needeth never a deal;*                   *whit\r\nIt was me told ere ye came here two hours;\r\nHe was, pardie, an old fellow of yours,\r\nAnd suddenly he was y-slain to-night;\r\nFordrunk* as he sat on his bench upright,              *completely drunk\r\nThere came a privy thief, men clepe Death,\r\nThat in this country all the people slay\u2019th,\r\nAnd with his spear he smote his heart in two,\r\nAnd went his way withoute wordes mo\u2019.\r\nHe hath a thousand slain this pestilence;\r\nAnd, master, ere you come in his presence,\r\nMe thinketh that it were full necessary\r\nFor to beware of such an adversary;\r\nBe ready for to meet him evermore.\r\nThus taughte me my dame; I say no more.\u201d\r\n\u201cBy Sainte Mary,\u201d said the tavernere,\r\n\u201cThe child saith sooth, for he hath slain this year,\r\nHence ov\u2019r a mile, within a great village,\r\nBoth man and woman, child, and hind, and page;\r\nI trow his habitation be there;\r\nTo be advised* great wisdom it were,           *watchful, on one\u2019s guard\r\nEre* that he did a man a dishonour.\u201d                               *lest\r\n\r\n\u201cYea, Godde\u2019s armes,\u201d quoth this riotour,\r\n\u201cIs it such peril with him for to meet?\r\nI shall him seek, by stile and eke by street.\r\nI make a vow, by Godde\u2019s digne* bones.\u201d                          *worthy\r\nHearken, fellows, we three be alle ones:*                        *at one\r\nLet each of us hold up his hand to other,\r\nAnd each of us become the other\u2019s brother,\r\nAnd we will slay this false traitor Death;\r\nHe shall be slain, he that so many slay\u2019th,\r\nBy Godde\u2019s dignity, ere it be night.\u201d\r\nTogether have these three their trothe plight\r\nTo live and die each one of them for other\r\nAs though he were his owen sworen brother.\r\nAnd up they start, all drunken, in this rage,\r\nAnd forth they go towardes that village\r\nOf which the taverner had spoke beforn,\r\nAnd many a grisly* oathe have they sworn,                      *dreadful\r\nAnd Christe\u2019s blessed body they to-rent;*            *tore to pieces <7>\r\n\u201cDeath shall be dead, if that we may him hent.\u201d*                  *catch\r\nWhen they had gone not fully half a mile,\r\nRight as they would have trodden o\u2019er a stile,\r\nAn old man and a poore with them met.\r\nThis olde man full meekely them gret,*                          *greeted\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cNow, lordes, God you see!\u201d*         *look on graciously\r\nThe proudest of these riotoures three\r\nAnswer\u2019d again; \u201cWhat? churl, with sorry grace,\r\nWhy art thou all forwrapped* save thy face?            *closely wrapt up\r\nWhy livest thou so long in so great age?\u201d\r\nThis olde man gan look on his visage,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cFor that I cannot find\r\nA man, though that I walked unto Ind,\r\nNeither in city, nor in no village go,\r\nThat woulde change his youthe for mine age;\r\nAnd therefore must I have mine age still\r\nAs longe time as it is Godde\u2019s will.\r\nAnd Death, alas! he will not have my life.\r\nThus walk I like a resteless caitife,*                 *miserable wretch\r\nAnd on the ground, which is my mother\u2019s gate,\r\nI knocke with my staff, early and late,\r\nAnd say to her, \u2018Leve* mother, let me in.                          *dear\r\nLo, how I wane, flesh, and blood, and skin;\r\nAlas! when shall my bones be at rest?\r\nMother, with you I woulde change my chest,\r\nThat in my chamber longe time hath be,\r\nYea, for an hairy clout to *wrap in me.\u2019*               *wrap myself in*\r\nBut yet to me she will not do that grace,\r\nFor which fall pale and welked* is my face.                    *withered\r\nBut, Sirs, to you it is no courtesy\r\nTo speak unto an old man villainy,\r\nBut* he trespass in word or else in deed.                        *except\r\nIn Holy Writ ye may yourselves read;\r\n\u2018Against* an old man, hoar upon his head,                       *to meet\r\nYe should arise:\u2019 therefore I you rede,*                         *advise\r\nNe do unto an old man no harm now,\r\nNo more than ye would a man did you\r\nIn age, if that ye may so long abide.\r\nAnd God be with you, whether ye go or ride\r\nI must go thither as I have to go.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNay, olde churl, by God thou shalt not so,\u201d\r\nSaide this other hazardor anon;\r\n\u201cThou partest not so lightly, by Saint John.\r\nThou spakest right now of that traitor Death,\r\nThat in this country all our friendes slay\u2019th;\r\nHave here my troth, as thou art his espy;*                          *spy\r\nTell where he is, or thou shalt it abie,*                    *suffer for\r\nBy God and by the holy sacrament;\r\nFor soothly thou art one of his assent\r\nTo slay us younge folk, thou false thief.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow, Sirs,\u201d quoth he, \u201cif it be you so lief*                    *desire\r\nTo finde Death, turn up this crooked way,\r\nFor in that grove I left him, by my fay,\r\nUnder a tree, and there he will abide;\r\nNor for your boast he will him nothing hide.\r\nSee ye that oak? right there ye shall him find.\r\nGod save you, that bought again mankind,\r\nAnd you amend!\u201d Thus said this olde man;\r\nAnd evereach of these riotoures ran,\r\nTill they came to the tree, and there they found\r\nOf florins fine, of gold y-coined round,\r\nWell nigh a seven bushels, as them thought.\r\nNo longer as then after Death they sought;\r\nBut each of them so glad was of the sight,\r\nFor that the florins were so fair and bright,\r\nThat down they sat them by the precious hoard.\r\nThe youngest of them spake the firste word:\r\n\u201cBrethren,\u201d quoth he, \u201c*take keep* what I shall say;              *heed*\r\nMy wit is great, though that I bourde* and play            *joke, frolic\r\nThis treasure hath Fortune unto us given\r\nIn mirth and jollity our life to liven;\r\nAnd lightly as it comes, so will we spend.\r\nHey! Godde\u2019s precious dignity! who wend*                *weened, thought\r\nToday that we should have so fair a grace?\r\nBut might this gold he carried from this place\r\nHome to my house, or elles unto yours\r\n(For well I wot that all this gold is ours),\r\nThen were we in high felicity.\r\nBut truely by day it may not be;\r\nMen woulde say that we were thieves strong,\r\nAnd for our owen treasure do us hong.*                   *have us hanged\r\nThis treasure muste carried be by night,\r\nAs wisely and as slily as it might.\r\nWherefore I rede,* that cut** among us all                *advise **lots\r\nWe draw, and let see where the cut will fall:\r\nAnd he that hath the cut, with hearte blithe\r\nShall run unto the town, and that full swithe,*                 *quickly\r\nAnd bring us bread and wine full privily:\r\nAnd two of us shall keepe subtilly\r\nThis treasure well: and if he will not tarry,\r\nWhen it is night, we will this treasure carry,\r\nBy one assent, where as us thinketh best.\u201d\r\nThen one of them the cut brought in his fist,\r\nAnd bade them draw, and look where it would fall;\r\nAnd it fell on the youngest of them all;\r\nAnd forth toward the town he went anon.\r\nAnd all so soon as  that he was y-gone,\r\nThe one of them spake thus unto the other;\r\n\u201cThou knowest well that thou art my sworn brother,\r\n*Thy profit* will I tell thee right anon.             *what is for thine\r\nThou knowest well that our fellow is gone,                    advantage*\r\nAnd here is gold, and that full great plenty,\r\nThat shall departed* he among us three.                         *divided\r\nBut natheless, if I could shape* it so                         *contrive\r\nThat it departed were among us two,\r\nHad I not done a friende\u2019s turn to thee?\u201d\r\nTh\u2019 other answer\u2019d, \u201cI n\u2019ot* how that may be;                  *know not\r\nHe knows well that the gold is with us tway.\r\nWhat shall we do? what shall we to him say?\u201d\r\n\u201cShall it be counsel?\u201d* said the firste shrew;**        *secret **wretch\r\n\u201cAnd I shall tell to thee in wordes few\r\nWhat we shall do, and bring it well about.\u201d\r\n\u201cI grante,\u201d quoth the other, \u201cout of doubt,\r\nThat by my truth I will thee not bewray.\u201d*                       *betray\r\n\u201cNow,\u201d quoth the first, \u201cthou know\u2019st well we be tway,\r\nAnd two of us shall stronger be than one.\r\nLook; when that he is set,* thou right anon                    *sat down\r\nArise, as though thou wouldest with him play;\r\nAnd I shall rive* him through the sides tway,                      *stab\r\nWhile that thou strugglest with him as in game;\r\nAnd with thy dagger look thou do the same.\r\nAnd then shall all this gold departed* be,                      *divided\r\nMy deare friend, betwixte thee and me:\r\nThen may we both our lustes* all fulfil,                      *pleasures\r\nAnd play at dice right at our owen will.\u201d\r\nAnd thus accorded* be these shrewes** tway            *agreed **wretches\r\nTo slay the third, as ye have heard me say.\r\n\r\nThe youngest, which that wente to the town,\r\nFull oft in heart he rolled up and down\r\nThe beauty of these florins new and bright.\r\n\u201cO Lord!\u201d quoth he, \u201cif so were that I might\r\nHave all this treasure to myself alone,\r\nThere is no man that lives under the throne\r\nOf God, that shoulde have so merry as I.\u201d\r\nAnd at the last the fiend our enemy\r\nPut in his thought, that he should poison buy,\r\nWith which he mighte slay his fellows twy.*                         *two\r\nFor why, the fiend found him *in such living,*           *leading such a\r\nThat he had leave to sorrow him to bring.                    (bad) life*\r\nFor this was utterly his full intent\r\nTo slay them both, and never to repent.\r\nAnd forth he went, no longer would he tarry,\r\nInto the town to an apothecary,\r\nAnd prayed him that he him woulde sell\r\nSome poison, that he might *his rattes quell,*           *kill his rats*\r\nAnd eke there was a polecat in his haw,*          *farm-yard, hedge <27>\r\nThat, as he said, his eapons had y-slaw:*                         *slain\r\nAnd fain he would him wreak,* if that he might,                 *revenge\r\nOf vermin that destroyed him by night.\r\nTh\u2019apothecary answer\u2019d, \u201cThou shalt have\r\nA thing, as wisly* God my soule save,                            *surely\r\nIn all this world there is no creature\r\nThat eat or drank hath of this confecture,\r\nNot but the mountance* of a corn of wheat,                       *amount\r\nThat he shall not his life *anon forlete;*        *immediately lay down*\r\nYea, sterve* he shall, and that in lesse while                      *die\r\nThan thou wilt go *apace* nought but a mile:                   *quickly*\r\nThis poison is so strong and violent.\u201d\r\nThis cursed man hath in his hand y-hent*                          *taken\r\nThis poison in a box, and swift he ran\r\nInto the nexte street, unto a man,\r\nAnd borrow\u2019d of him large bottles three;\r\nAnd in the two the poison poured he;\r\nThe third he kepte clean for his own drink,\r\nFor all the night he shope him* for to swink**        *purposed **labour\r\nIn carrying off the gold out of that place.\r\nAnd when this riotour, with sorry grace,\r\nHad fill\u2019d with wine his greate bottles three,\r\n\r\nTo his fellows again repaired he.\r\nWhat needeth it thereof to sermon* more?                *talk, discourse\r\nFor, right as they had cast* his death before,                  *plotted\r\nRight so they have him slain, and that anon.\r\nAnd when that this was done, thus spake the one;\r\n\u201cNow let us sit and drink, and make us merry,\r\nAnd afterward we will his body bury.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word it happen\u2019d him *par cas*                  *by chance\r\nTo take the bottle where the poison was,\r\nAnd drank, and gave his fellow drink also,\r\nFor which anon they sterved* both the two.                         *died\r\nBut certes I suppose that Avicen\r\nWrote never in no canon, nor no fen, <28>\r\nMore wondrous signes of empoisoning,\r\nThan had these wretches two ere their ending.\r\nThus ended be these homicides two,\r\nAnd eke the false empoisoner also.\r\n\r\nO cursed sin, full of all cursedness!\r\nO trait\u2019rous homicide! O wickedness!\r\nO glutt\u2019ny, luxury, and hazardry!\r\nThou blasphemer of Christ with villany,*               *outrage, impiety\r\nAnd oathes great, of usage and of pride!\r\nAlas! mankinde, how may it betide,\r\nThat to thy Creator, which that thee wrought,\r\nAnd with his precious hearte-blood thee bought,\r\nThou art so false and so unkind,* alas!                       *unnatural\r\nNow, good men, God forgive you your trespass,\r\nAnd ware* you from the sin of avarice.                             *keep\r\nMine holy pardon may you all warice,*                              *heal\r\nSo that ye offer *nobles or sterlings,*           *gold or silver coins*\r\nOr elles silver brooches, spoons, or rings.\r\nBowe your head under this holy bull.\r\nCome up, ye wives, and offer of your will;\r\nYour names I enter in my roll anon;\r\nInto the bliss of heaven shall ye gon;\r\nI you assoil* by mine high powere,                         *absolve <29>\r\nYou that will offer, as clean and eke as clear\r\nAs ye were born. Lo, Sires, thus I preach;\r\nAnd Jesus Christ, that is our soules\u2019 leech,*                    *healer\r\nSo grante you his pardon to receive;\r\nFor that is best, I will not deceive.\r\n\r\nBut, Sirs, one word forgot I in my tale;\r\nI have relics and pardon in my mail,\r\nAs fair as any man in Engleland,\r\nWhich were me given by the Pope\u2019s hand.\r\nIf any of you will of devotion\r\nOffer, and have mine absolution,\r\nCome forth anon, and kneele here adown\r\nAnd meekely receive my pardoun.\r\nOr elles take pardon, as ye wend,*                                   *go\r\nAll new and fresh at every towne\u2019s end,\r\nSo that ye offer, always new and new,\r\nNobles or pence which that be good and true.\r\n\u2019Tis an honour to evereach* that is here,                      *each one\r\nThat ye have a suffisant* pardonere                            *suitable\r\nT\u2019assoile* you in country as ye ride,                           *absolve\r\nFor aventures which that may betide.\r\nParaventure there may fall one or two\r\nDown of his horse, and break his neck in two.\r\nLook, what a surety is it to you all,\r\nThat I am in your fellowship y-fall,\r\nThat may assoil* you bothe *more and lass,*                     *absolve\r\nWhen that the soul shall from the body pass.           *great and small*\r\nI rede* that our Hoste shall begin,                              *advise\r\nFor he is most enveloped in sin.\r\nCome forth, Sir Host, and offer first anon,\r\nAnd thou shalt kiss; the relics every one,\r\nYea, for a groat; unbuckle anon thy purse.\r\n\r\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthen have I Christe\u2019s curse!\r\nLet be,\u201d quoth he, \u201cit shall not be, *so the\u2019ch.*      *so may I thrive*\r\nThou wouldest make me kiss thine olde breech,\r\nAnd swear it were a relic of a saint,\r\nThough it were with thy *fundament depaint\u2019.*   *stained by your bottom*\r\nBut, by the cross which that Saint Helen fand,*              *found <30>\r\nI would I had thy coilons* in mine hand,                      *testicles\r\nInstead of relics, or of sanctuary.\r\nLet cut them off, I will thee help them carry;\r\nThey shall be shrined in a hogge\u2019s turd.\u201d\r\nThe Pardoner answered not one word;\r\nSo wroth he was, no worde would he say.\r\n\r\n\u201cNow,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201cI will no longer play\r\nWith thee, nor with none other angry man.\u201d\r\nBut right anon the worthy Knight began\r\n(When that he saw that all the people lough*),                  *laughed\r\n\u201cNo more of this, for it is right enough.\r\nSir Pardoner, be merry and glad of cheer;\r\nAnd ye, Sir Host, that be to me so dear,\r\nI pray you that ye kiss the Pardoner;\r\nAnd, Pardoner, I pray thee draw thee ner,*                       *nearer\r\nAnd as we didde, let us laugh and play.\u201d\r\nAnon they kiss\u2019d, and rode forth their way.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Pardoner\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The outline of this Tale is to be found in the \u201cCento Novelle\r\nAntiche,\u201d but the original is now lost. As in the case of the Wife\r\nof Bath\u2019s Tale, there is a long prologue, but in this case it has\r\nbeen treated as part of the Tale.\r\n\r\n2. Hautein: loud, lofty; from French, \u201chautain.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. Radix malorum est cupiditas: \u201cthe love of money is the root\r\nof all evil\u201d (1 Tim.vi. 10)\r\n\r\n4.All had she taken priestes two or three: even if she had\r\ncommitted adultery with two or three priests.\r\n\r\n5. Blackburied: The meaning of this is not very clear, but it is\r\nprobably a periphrastic and picturesque way of indicating\r\ndamnation.\r\n\r\n6. Grisly: dreadful; fitted to \u201cagrise\u201d or horrify the listener.\r\n\r\n7.  Mr Wright says: \u201cThe common oaths in the Middle Ages\r\nwere by the different parts of God\u2019s body; and the popular\r\npreachers represented that profane swearers tore Christ\u2019s body\r\nby their imprecations.\u201d The idea was doubtless borrowed from\r\nthe passage in Hebrews (vi. 6), where apostates are said to\r\n\u201ccrucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put Him to\r\nan open shame.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Tombesteres: female dancers or tumblers; from Anglo-\r\nSaxon, \u201ctumban,\u201d to dance.\r\n\r\n9. \u201cBe not drunk with wine, wherein is excess.\u201d Eph. v.18.\r\n\r\n10. The reference is probably to the diligent inquiries Herod\r\nmade at the time of Christ\u2019s birth. See Matt. ii. 4-8\r\n\r\n11. A drunkard. \u201cPerhaps,\u201d says Tyrwhitt, \u201cChaucer refers to\r\nEpist. LXXXIII., \u2018Extende in plures dies illum ebrii habitum;\r\nnunquid de furore dubitabis? nunc quoque non est minor sed\r\nbrevior.\u2019\u201d  (\u201cProlong the drunkard\u2019s condition to several days;\r\nwill you doubt his madness? Even as it is, the madness is no\r\nless; merely shorter.\u201d)\r\n\r\n12. Defended: forbidden; French, \u201cdefendu.\u201d  St Jerome, in his\r\nbook against Jovinian, says that so long as Adam fasted, he was\r\nin Paradise; he ate, and he was thrust out.\r\n\r\n13. \u201cMeats for the belly, and the belly for meats; but God shall\r\ndestroy both it and them.\u201d 1 Cor. vi. 13.\r\n\r\n14. \u201cFor many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now\r\ntell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of\r\nChrist:  Whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and\r\nwhose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things.\u201d  Phil.\r\niii. 18, 19.\r\n\r\n15. Cod: bag; Anglo-Saxon, \u201ccodde;\u201d hence peas-cod, pin-cod\r\n(pin-cushion), &c.\r\n\r\n16. Compare with the lines which follow, the picture of the\r\ndrunken messenger in the Man of Law\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n17. Lepe:  A town near Cadiz, whence a stronger wine than the\r\nGascon vintages afforded was imported to England. French\r\nwine was often adulterated with the cheaper and stronger\r\nSpanish.\r\n\r\n18. Another reading is \u201cFleet Street.\u201d\r\n\r\n19. Attila was suffocated in the night by a haemorrhage,\r\nbrought on by a debauch, when he was preparing a new\r\ninvasion of Italy, in 453.\r\n\r\n20. \u201cIt is not for kings, O Lemuel, it is not for kings to drink\r\nwine, nor for princes strong drink; lest they drink, and forget\r\nthe law, and pervert the judgment of any of the afflicted.\u201d Prov.\r\nxxxi. 4, 5.\r\n\r\n21. Most manuscripts, evidently in error, have \u201cStilbon\u201d and\r\n\u201cCalidone\u201d for Chilon and Lacedaemon. Chilon was one of the\r\nseven sages of Greece, and flourished about B.C. 590.\r\nAccording to Diogenes Laertius, he died, under the pressure of\r\nage and joy, in the arms of his son, who had just been crowned\r\nvictor at the Olympic games.\r\n\r\n22. \u201cSwear not at all;\u201d Christ\u2019s words in Matt. v. 34.\r\n\r\n23. \u201cAnd thou shalt swear, the lord liveth in truth, in judgement,\r\nand in righteousness.\u201d  Jeremiah iv. 2\r\n\r\n24. The nails that fastened Christ on the cross, which were\r\nregarded with superstitious reverence.\r\n\r\n25. Hailes: An abbey in Gloucestershire, where, under the\r\ndesignation of \u201cthe blood of Hailes,\u201d a portion of  Christ\u2019s blood\r\nwas preserved.\r\n\r\n26. Go bet: a hunting phrase; apparently its force is, \u201cgo beat up\r\nthe game.\u201d\r\n\r\n27. Haw; farm-yard, hedge  Compare the French, \u201chaie.\u201d\r\n\r\n28. Avicen, or Avicenna, was among the distinguished\r\nphysicians of the Arabian school in the eleventh century, and\r\nvery popular in the Middle Ages.  His great work was called\r\n\u201cCanon Medicinae,\u201d and was divided into \u201cfens,\u201d \u201cfennes,\u201d or\r\nsections.\r\n\r\n29. Assoil:  absolve. compare the Scotch law-term \u201cassoilzie,\u201d\r\nto acquit.\r\n\r\n30. Saint Helen, according to Sir John Mandeville, found the\r\ncross of Christ deep below ground, under a rock, where the\r\nJews had hidden it; and she tested the genuineness of the sacred\r\ntree, by raising to life a dead man laid upon it.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE SHIPMAN\u2019S TALE.<1>\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE\r\n\r\nOur Host upon his stirrups stood anon,\r\nAnd saide; \u201cGood men, hearken every one,\r\nThis was a thrifty* tale for the nones.            *discreet, profitable\r\nSir Parish Priest,\u201d quoth he, \u201cfor Godde\u2019s bones,\r\nTell us a tale, as was thy *forword yore:*            *promise formerly*\r\nI see well that ye learned men in lore\r\nCan* muche good, by Godde\u2019s dignity.\u201d                              *know\r\nThe Parson him answer\u2019d, \u201cBen\u2019dicite!\r\nWhat ails the man, so sinfully to swear?\u201d\r\nOur Host answer\u2019d, \u201cO Jankin, be ye there?\r\nNow, good men,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201chearken to me.\r\nI smell a Lollard <2> in the wind,\u201d quoth he.\r\n\u201cAbide, for Godde\u2019s digne* passion,                              *worthy\r\nFor we shall have a predication:\r\nThis Lollard here will preachen us somewhat.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, by my father\u2019s soul, that shall he not,\r\nSaide the Shipman; \u201cHere shall he not preach,\r\nHe shall no gospel glose* here nor teach.                  *comment upon\r\nWe all believe in the great God,\u201d quoth he.\r\n\u201cHe woulde sowe some difficulty,\r\nOr springe cockle <3> in our cleane corn.\r\nAnd therefore, Host, I warne thee beforn,\r\nMy jolly body shall a tale tell,\r\nAnd I shall clinke you so merry a bell,\r\nThat I shall waken all this company;\r\nBut it shall not be of philosophy,\r\nNor of physic, nor termes quaint of law;\r\nThere is but little Latin in my maw.\u201d*                            *belly\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Shipman\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Prologue here given was transferred by Tyrwhitt from\r\nthe place, preceding the Squire\u2019s Tale, which it had formerly\r\noccupied; the Shipman\u2019s Tale having no Prologue in the best\r\nmanuscripts.\r\n\r\n2. Lollard: A contemptuous name for the followers of\r\nWyckliffe; presumably derived from the Latin, \u201clolium,\u201d tares,\r\nas if they were the tares among the Lord\u2019s wheat; so, a few lines\r\nbelow, the Shipman intimates his fear lest the Parson should\r\n\u201cspring cockle in our clean corn.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. Cockle: A weed, the \u201cAgrostemma githago\u201d of Linnaeus;\r\nperhaps named from the Anglo-Saxon, \u201cceocan,\u201d because it\r\nchokes the corn.\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: It is also possible Chaucer had in mind\r\nMatthew 13:25, where in some translations, an enemy sowed\r\n\u201ccockle\u201d amongst the wheat. (Other translations have \u201ctares\u201d\r\nand \u201cdarnel\u201d.))\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nA Merchant whilom dwell\u2019d at Saint Denise,\r\nThat riche was, for which men held him wise.\r\nA wife he had of excellent beauty,\r\nAnd *companiable and revellous* was she,            *fond of society and\r\nWhich is a thing that causeth more dispence                merry making*\r\nThan worth is all the cheer and reverence\r\nThat men them do at feastes and at dances.\r\nSuch salutations and countenances\r\nPassen, as doth the shadow on the wall;\r\nPut woe is him that paye must for all.\r\nThe sely* husband algate** he must pay,               *innocent **always\r\nHe must us <2> clothe and he must us array\r\nAll for his owen worship richely:\r\nIn which array we dance jollily.\r\nAnd if that he may not, paraventure,\r\nOr elles list not such dispence endure,\r\nBut thinketh it is wasted and y-lost,\r\nThen must another paye for our cost,\r\nOr lend us gold, and that is perilous.\r\n\r\nThis noble merchant held a noble house;\r\nFor which he had all day so great repair,*           *resort of visitors\r\nFor his largesse, and for his wife was fair,\r\nThat wonder is; but hearken to my tale.\r\nAmonges all these guestes great and smale,\r\nThere was a monk, a fair man and a bold,\r\nI trow a thirty winter he was old,\r\nThat ever-in-one* was drawing to that place.                 *constantly\r\nThis younge monk, that was so fair of face,\r\nAcquainted was so with this goode man,\r\nSince that their firste knowledge began,\r\nThat in his house as familiar was he\r\nAs it is possible any friend to be.\r\nAnd, for as muchel as this goode man,\r\nAnd eke this monk of which that I began,\r\nWere both the two y-born in one village,\r\nThe monk *him claimed, as for cousinage,*               *claimed kindred\r\nAnd he again him said not once nay,                            with him*\r\nBut was as glad thereof as fowl of day;\r\n\u201cFor to his heart it was a great pleasance.\r\nThus be they knit with etern\u2019 alliance,\r\nAnd each of them gan other to assure\r\nOf brotherhood while that their life may dure.\r\nFree was Dan <3> John, and namely* of dispence,** *especially **spending\r\nAs in that house, and full of diligence\r\nTo do pleasance, and also *great costage;*              *liberal outlay*\r\nHe not forgot to give the leaste page\r\nIn all that house; but, after their degree,\r\nHe gave the lord, and sithen* his meinie,**       *afterwards **servants\r\nWhen that he came, some manner honest thing;\r\nFor which they were as glad of his coming\r\nAs fowl is fain when that the sun upriseth.\r\nNo more of this as now, for it sufficeth.\r\n\r\nBut so befell, this merchant on a day\r\nShope* him to make ready his array                   *resolved, arranged\r\nToward the town of Bruges <4> for to fare,\r\nTo buye there a portion of ware;*                           *merchandise\r\nFor which he hath to Paris sent anon\r\nA messenger, and prayed hath Dan John\r\nThat he should come to Saint Denis, and play*             *enjoy himself\r\nWith him, and with his wife, a day or tway,\r\nEre he to Bruges went, in alle wise.\r\nThis noble monk, of which I you devise,*                           *tell\r\nHad of his abbot, as him list, licence,\r\n(Because he was a man of high prudence,\r\nAnd eke an officer out for to ride,\r\nTo see their granges and their barnes wide); <5>\r\nAnd unto Saint Denis he came anon.\r\nWho was so welcome as my lord Dan John,\r\nOur deare cousin, full of courtesy?\r\nWith him he brought a jub* of malvesie,                             *jug\r\nAnd eke another full of fine vernage, <6>\r\nAnd volatile,* as aye was his usage:                          *wild-fowl\r\nAnd thus I let them eat, and drink, and play,\r\nThis merchant and this monk, a day or tway.\r\nThe thirde day the merchant up ariseth,\r\nAnd on his needeis sadly him adviseth;\r\nAnd up into his countour-house* went he,             *counting-house <7>\r\nTo reckon with himself as well may be,\r\nOf thilke* year, how that it with him stood,                       *that\r\nAnd how that he dispended bad his good,\r\nAnd if that he increased were or non.\r\nHis bookes and his bagges many a one\r\nHe laid before him on his counting-board.\r\nFull riche was his treasure and his hoard;\r\nFor which full fast his countour door he shet;\r\nAnd eke he would that no man should him let*                     *hinder\r\nOf his accountes, for the meane time:\r\nAnd thus he sat, till it was passed prime.\r\n\r\nDan John was risen in the morn also,\r\nAnd in the garden walked to and fro,\r\nAnd had his thinges said full courteously.\r\nThe good wife came walking full privily\r\nInto the garden, where he walked soft,\r\nAnd him saluted, as she had done oft;\r\nA maiden child came in her company,\r\nWhich as her list she might govern and gie,*                      *guide\r\nFor yet under the yarde* was the maid.                          *rod <8>\r\n\u201cO deare cousin mine, Dan John,\u201d she said,\r\n\u201cWhat aileth you so rath* for to arise?\u201d                          *early\r\n\u201cNiece,\u201d quoth he, \u201cit ought enough suffice\r\nFive houres for to sleep upon a night;\u2019\r\nBut* it were for an old appalled** wight,       *unless **pallid, wasted\r\nAs be these wedded men, that lie and dare,*                       *stare\r\nAs in a forme sits a weary hare,\r\nAlle forstraught* with houndes great and smale;  *distracted, confounded\r\nBut, deare niece, why be ye so pale?\r\nI trowe certes that our goode man\r\nHath you so laboured, since this night began,\r\nThat you were need to reste hastily.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word he laugh\u2019d full merrily,\r\nAnd of his owen thought he wax\u2019d all red.\r\nThis faire wife gan for to shake her head,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cYea, God wot all\u201d quoth she.\r\n\u201cNay, cousin mine, it stands not so with me;\r\nFor by that God, that gave me soul and life,\r\nIn all the realm of France is there no wife\r\nThat lesse lust hath to that sorry play;\r\nFor I may sing alas and well-away!\r\nThat I was born; but to no wight,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cDare I not tell how that it stands with me.\r\nWherefore I think out of this land to wend,\r\nOr elles of myself to make an end,\r\nSo full am I of dread and eke of care.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis monk began upon this wife to stare,\r\nAnd said, \u201cAlas! my niece, God forbid\r\nThat ye for any sorrow, or any dread,\r\nFordo* yourself: but telle me your grief,                       *destroy\r\nParaventure I may, in your mischief,*                          *distress\r\nCounsel or help; and therefore telle me\r\nAll your annoy, for it shall be secre.\r\nFor on my portos* here I make an oath,                         *breviary\r\nThat never in my life, *for lief nor loth,*       *willing or unwilling*\r\nNe shall I of no counsel you bewray.\u201d\r\n\u201cThe same again to you,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI say.\r\nBy God and by this portos I you swear,\r\nThough men me woulden all in pieces tear,\r\nNe shall I never, for* to go to hell,                   *though I should\r\nBewray* one word of thing that ye me tell,                       *betray\r\nFor no cousinage, nor alliance,\r\nBut verily for love and affiance.\u201d*                 *confidence, promise\r\nThus be they sworn, and thereupon they kiss\u2019d,\r\nAnd each of them told other what them list.\r\n\u201cCousin,\u201d quoth she, \u201cif that I hadde space,\r\nAs I have none, and namely* in this place,                    *specially\r\nThen would I tell a legend of my life,\r\nWhat I have suffer\u2019d since I was a wife\r\nWith mine husband, all* be he your cousin.                     *although\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth this monk, \u201cby God and Saint Martin,\r\nHe is no more cousin unto me,\r\nThan is the leaf that hangeth on the tree;\r\nI call him so, by Saint Denis of France,\r\nTo have the more cause of acquaintance\r\nOf you, which I have loved specially\r\nAboven alle women sickerly,*                                     *surely\r\nThis swear I you *on my professioun;*            *by my vows of religion\r\nTell me your grief, lest that he come adown,\r\nAnd hasten you, and go away anon.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cMy deare love,\u201d quoth she, \u201cO my Dan John,\r\nFull lief* were me this counsel for to hide,                   *pleasant\r\nBut out it must, I may no more abide.\r\nMy husband is to me the worste man\r\nThat ever was since that the world began;\r\nBut since I am a wife, it sits* not me                          *becomes\r\nTo telle no wight of our privity,\r\nNeither in bed, nor in none other place;\r\nGod shield* I shoulde tell it for his grace;                     *forbid\r\nA wife shall not say of her husband\r\nBut all honour, as I can understand;\r\nSave unto you thus much I telle shall;\r\nAs help me God, he is nought worth at all\r\nIn no degree, the value of a fly.\r\nBut yet me grieveth most his niggardy.*                      *stinginess\r\nAnd well ye wot, that women naturally\r\nDesire thinges six, as well as I.\r\nThey woulde that their husbands shoulde be\r\nHardy,* and wise, and rich, and thereto free,                     *brave\r\nAnd buxom* to his wife, and fresh in bed.            *yielding, obedient\r\nBut, by that ilke* Lord that for us bled,                          *same\r\nFor his honour myself for to array,\r\nOn Sunday next I muste needes pay\r\nA hundred francs, or elles am I lorn.*                   *ruined, undone\r\nYet *were me lever* that I were unborn,                 *I would rather*\r\nThan me were done slander or villainy.\r\nAnd if mine husband eke might it espy,\r\nI were but lost; and therefore I you pray,\r\nLend me this sum, or elles must I dey.*                             *die\r\nDan John, I say, lend me these hundred francs;\r\nPardie, I will not faile you, *my thanks,*            *if I can help it*\r\nIf that you list to do that I you pray;\r\nFor at a certain day I will you pay,\r\nAnd do to you what pleasance and service\r\nThat I may do, right as you list devise.\r\nAnd but* I do, God take on me vengeance,                         *unless\r\nAs foul as e\u2019er had Ganilion <9> of France.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis gentle monk answer\u2019d in this mannere;\r\n\u201cNow truely, mine owen lady dear,\r\nI have,\u201d quoth he, \u201con you so greate ruth,*                        *pity\r\nThat I you swear, and plighte you my truth,\r\nThat when your husband is to Flanders fare,*                       *gone\r\nI will deliver you out of this care,\r\nFor I will bringe you a hundred francs.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word he caught her by the flanks,\r\nAnd her embraced hard, and kissed her oft.\r\n\u201cGo now your way,\u201d quoth he, \u201call still and soft,\r\nAnd let us dine as soon as that ye may,\r\nFor by my cylinder* \u2019tis prime of day;                 *portable sundial\r\nGo now, and be as true as I shall be .\u201d\r\n\u201cNow elles God forbidde, Sir,\u201d quoth she;\r\nAnd forth she went, as jolly as a pie,\r\nAnd bade the cookes that they should them hie,*              *make haste\r\nSo that men mighte dine, and that anon.\r\nUp to her husband is this wife gone,\r\nAnd knocked at his contour boldely.\r\n*\u201cQui est la?\u201d* quoth he. \u201cPeter! it am I,\u201d              *who is there?*\r\nQuoth she; \u201cWhat, Sir, how longe all will ye fast?\r\nHow longe time will ye reckon and cast\r\nYour summes, and your bookes, and your things?\r\nThe devil have part of all such reckonings!\r\nYe have enough, pardie, of Godde\u2019s sond.*                *sending, gifts\r\nCome down to-day, and let your bagges stond.*                     *stand\r\nNe be ye not ashamed, that Dan John\r\nShall fasting all this day elenge* gon?                   *see note <10>\r\nWhat? let us hear a mass, and go we dine.\u201d\r\n\u201cWife,\u201d quoth this man, \u201clittle canst thou divine\r\nThe curious businesse that we have;\r\nFor of us chapmen,* all so God me save,                       *merchants\r\nAnd by that lord that cleped is Saint Ive,\r\nScarcely amonges twenty, ten shall thrive\r\nContinually, lasting unto our age.\r\nWe may well make cheer and good visage,\r\nAnd drive forth the world as it may be,\r\nAnd keepen our estate in privity,\r\nTill we be dead, or elles that we play\r\nA pilgrimage, or go out of the way.\r\nAnd therefore have I great necessity\r\nUpon this quaint* world to advise** me.              *strange **consider\r\nFor evermore must we stand in dread\r\nOf hap and fortune in our chapmanhead.*                         *trading\r\nTo Flanders will I go to-morrow at day,\r\nAnd come again as soon as e\u2019er I may:\r\nFor which, my deare wife, I thee beseek                         *beseech\r\nAs be to every wight buxom* and meek,                  *civil, courteous\r\nAnd for to keep our good be curious,\r\nAnd honestly governe well our house.\r\nThou hast enough, in every manner wise,\r\nThat to a thrifty household may suffice.\r\nThee lacketh none array, nor no vitail;\r\nOf silver in thy purse thou shalt not fail.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word his contour door he shet,*                      *shut\r\nAnd down he went; no longer would he let;*                *delay, hinder\r\nAnd hastily a mass was there said,\r\nAnd speedily the tables were laid,\r\nAnd to the dinner faste they them sped,\r\nAnd richely this monk the chapman fed.\r\nAnd after dinner Dan John soberly\r\nThis chapman took apart, and privily\r\nHe said him thus: \u201cCousin, it standeth so,\r\nThat, well I see, to Bruges ye will go;\r\nGod and Saint Austin speede you and guide.\r\nI pray you, cousin, wisely that ye ride:\r\nGoverne you also of your diet\r\nAttemperly,* and namely** in this heat.                      *moderately\r\nBetwixt us two needeth no *strange fare;*                *ado, ceremony*\r\nFarewell, cousin, God shielde you from care.\r\nIf any thing there be, by day or night,\r\nIf it lie in my power and my might,\r\nThat ye me will command in any wise,\r\nIt shall be done, right as ye will devise.\r\nBut one thing ere ye go, if it may be;\r\nI woulde pray you for to lend to me\r\nA hundred frankes, for a week or twy,\r\nFor certain beastes that I muste buy,\r\nTo store with a place that is ours\r\n(God help me so, I would that it were yours);\r\nI shall not faile surely of my day,\r\nNot for a thousand francs, a mile way.\r\nBut let this thing be secret, I you pray;\r\nFor yet to-night these beastes must I buy.\r\nAnd fare now well, mine owen cousin dear;\r\n*Grand mercy* of your cost and of your cheer.\u201d            *great thanks*\r\n\r\nThis noble merchant gentilly* anon                     *like a gentleman\r\nAnswer\u2019d and said, \u201cO cousin mine, Dan John,\r\nNow sickerly this is a small request:\r\nMy gold is youres, when that it you lest,\r\nAnd not only my gold, but my chaffare;*                     *merchandise\r\nTake what you list, *God shielde that ye spare.*    *God forbid that you\r\nBut one thing is, ye know it well enow           should take too little*\r\nOf chapmen, that their money is their plough.\r\nWe may creance* while we have a name,                     *obtain credit\r\nBut goldless for to be it is no game.\r\nPay it again when it lies in your ease;\r\nAfter my might full fain would I you please.\u201d\r\n\r\nThese hundred frankes set he forth anon,\r\nAnd privily he took them to Dan John;\r\nNo wight in all this world wist of this loan,\r\nSaving the merchant and Dan John alone.\r\nThey drink, and speak, and roam a while, and play,\r\nTill that Dan John rode unto his abbay.\r\nThe morrow came, and forth this merchant rideth\r\nTo Flanders-ward, his prentice well him guideth,\r\nTill he came unto Bruges merrily.\r\nNow went this merchant fast and busily\r\nAbout his need, and buyed and creanced;*                     *got credit\r\nHe neither played at the dice, nor danced;\r\nBut as a merchant, shortly for to tell,\r\nHe led his life; and there I let him dwell.\r\n\r\nThe Sunday next* the merchant was y-gone,                         *after\r\nTo Saint Denis y-comen is Dan John,\r\nWith crown and beard all fresh and newly shave,\r\nIn all the house was not so little a knave,*                *servant-boy\r\nNor no wight elles that was not full fain\r\nFor that my lord Dan John was come again.\r\nAnd shortly to the point right for to gon,\r\nThe faire wife accorded with Dan John,\r\nThat for these hundred francs he should all night\r\nHave her in his armes bolt upright;\r\nAnd this accord performed was in deed.\r\nIn mirth all night a busy life they lead,\r\nTill it was day, that Dan John went his way,\r\nAnd bade the meinie* \u201cFarewell; have good day.\u201d                *servants\r\nFor none of them, nor no wight in the town,\r\nHad of Dan John right no suspicioun;\r\nAnd forth he rode home to his abbay,\r\nOr where him list; no more of him I say.\r\n\r\nThe merchant, when that ended was the fair,\r\nTo Saint Denis he gan for to repair,\r\nAnd with his wife he made feast and cheer,\r\nAnd tolde her that chaffare* was so dear,                   *merchandise\r\nThat needes must he make a chevisance;*                       *loan <11>\r\nFor he was bound in a recognisance\r\nTo paye twenty thousand shields* anon.                     *crowns, ecus\r\nFor which this merchant is to Paris gone,\r\nTo borrow of certain friendes that he had\r\nA certain francs, and some with him he lad.*                       *took\r\nAnd when that he was come into the town,\r\nFor great cherte* and great affectioun                             *love\r\nUnto Dan John he wente first to play;\r\nNot for to borrow of him no money,\r\nBat for to weet* and see of his welfare,                           *know\r\nAnd for to telle him of his chaffare,\r\nAs friendes do, when they be met in fere.*                      *company\r\nDan John him made feast and merry cheer;\r\nAnd he him told again full specially,\r\nHow he had well y-bought and graciously\r\n(Thanked be God) all whole his merchandise;\r\nSave that he must, in alle manner wise,\r\nMaken a chevisance, as for his best;\r\nAnd then he shoulde be in joy and rest.\r\nDan John answered, \u201cCertes, I am fain*                             *glad\r\nThat ye in health be come borne again:\r\nAnd if that I were rich, as have I bliss,\r\nOf twenty thousand shields should ye not miss,\r\nFor ye so kindely the other day\r\nLente me gold, and as I can and may\r\nI thanke you, by God and by Saint Jame.\r\nBut natheless I took unto our Dame,\r\nYour wife at home, the same gold again,\r\nUpon your bench; she wot it well, certain,\r\nBy certain tokens that I can her tell\r\nNow, by your leave, I may no longer dwell;\r\nOur abbot will out of this town anon,\r\nAnd in his company I muste gon.\r\nGreet well our Dame, mine owen niece sweet,\r\nAnd farewell, deare cousin, till we meet.\r\n\r\nThis merchant, which that was full ware and wise,\r\n*Creanced hath,* and paid eke in Paris             *had obtained credit*\r\nTo certain Lombards ready in their hond\r\nThe sum of gold, and got of them his bond,\r\nAnd home he went, merry as a popinjay.*                          *parrot\r\nFor well he knew he stood in such array\r\nThat needes must he win in that voyage\r\nA thousand francs, above all his costage.*                     *expenses\r\nHis wife full ready met him at the gate,\r\nAs she was wont of old usage algate*                             *always\r\nAnd all that night in mirthe they beset;*                         *spent\r\nFor he was rich, and clearly out of debt.\r\nWhen it was day, the merchant gan embrace\r\nHis wife all new, and kiss\u2019d her in her face,\r\nAnd up he went, and maked it full tough.\r\n\r\n\u201cNo more,\u201d quoth she, \u201cby God ye have enough;\u201d\r\nAnd wantonly again with him she play\u2019d,\r\nTill at the last this merchant to her said.\r\n\u201cBy God,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI am a little wroth\r\nWith you, my wife, although it be me loth;\r\nAnd wot ye why? by God, as that I guess,\r\nThat ye have made a *manner strangeness*        *a kind of estrangement*\r\nBetwixte me and my cousin, Dan John.\r\nYe should have warned me, ere I had gone,\r\nThat he you had a hundred frankes paid\r\nBy ready token; he *had him evil apaid*                 *was displeased*\r\nFor that I to him spake of chevisance,*                       *borrowing\r\n(He seemed so as by his countenance);\r\nBut natheless, by God of heaven king,\r\nI thoughte not to ask of him no thing.\r\nI pray thee, wife, do thou no more so.\r\nTell me alway, ere that I from thee go,\r\nIf any debtor hath in mine absence\r\nY-payed thee, lest through thy negligence\r\nI might him ask a thing that he hath paid.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis wife was not afeared nor afraid,\r\nBut boldely she said, and that anon;\r\n\u201cMary! I defy that false monk Dan John,\r\nI keep* not of his tokens never a deal:**                   *care **whit\r\nHe took me certain gold, I wot it well. \u2014\r\nWhat? evil thedom* on his monke\u2019s snout! \u2014                    *thriving\r\nFor, God it wot, I ween\u2019d withoute doubt\r\nThat he had given it me, because of you,\r\nTo do therewith mine honour and my prow,*                        *profit\r\nFor cousinage, and eke for belle cheer\r\nThat he hath had full often here.\r\nBut since I see I stand in such disjoint,*             *awkward position\r\nI will answer you shortly to the point.\r\nYe have more slacke debtors than am I;\r\nFor I will pay you well and readily,\r\nFrom day to day, and if so be I fail,\r\nI am your wife, score it upon my tail,\r\nAnd I shall pay as soon as ever I may.\r\nFor, by my troth, I have on mine array,\r\nAnd not in waste, bestow\u2019d it every deal.\r\nAnd, for I have bestowed it so well,\r\nFor your honour, for Godde\u2019s sake I say,\r\nAs be not wroth, but let us laugh and play.\r\nYe shall my jolly body have *to wed;*                        *in pledge*\r\nBy God, I will not pay you but in bed;\r\nForgive it me, mine owen spouse dear;\r\nTurn hitherward, and make better cheer.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe merchant saw none other remedy;\r\nAnd for to chide, it were but a folly,\r\nSince that the thing might not amended be.\r\n\u201cNow, wife,\u201d he said, \u201cand I forgive it thee;\r\nBut by thy life be no more so large;*                   *liberal, lavish\r\nKeep better my good, this give I thee in charge.\u201d\r\nThus endeth now my tale; and God us send\r\nTaling enough, until our lives\u2019 end!\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Shipman\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. In this Tale Chaucer seems to have followed an old French\r\nstory, which also formed the groundwork of the first story in\r\nthe eighth day of the \u201cDecameron.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. \u201cHe must us clothe\u201d: So in all the manuscripts and from this\r\nand the following lines, it must be inferred that Chaucer had\r\nintended to put the Tale in  the mouth of a female speaker.\r\n\r\n3. Dan: a title bestowed on priests and scholars; from\r\n\u201cDominus,\u201d like the Spanish \u201cDon\u201d.\r\n\r\n4. Bruges was in Chaucer\u2019s time the great emporium of\r\nEuropean commerce.\r\n\r\n5. The monk had been appointed by his abbot to inspect and\r\nmanage the rural property of the monastery.\r\n\r\n6. Malvesie or Malmesy wine derived its name from Malvasia, a\r\nregion of the Morea near Cape Malea, where it was made, as it\r\nalso was on Chios and some other Greek islands. Vernage was\r\n\u201cvernaccia\u201d, a sweet Italian wine.\r\n\r\n 7. Contour-house: counting-house; French, \u201ccomptoir.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Under the yarde: under the rod; in pupillage; a phrase\r\nproperly used of children, but employed by the Clerk in the\r\nprologue to his tale.  See note 1 to the Prologue to the Clerk\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n9. Genelon, Ganelon, or Ganilion; one of Charlemagne\u2019s\r\nofficers, whose treachery was the cause of the disastrous defeat\r\nof the Christians by the Saracens at Roncevalles; he was torn to\r\npieces by four horses.\r\n\r\n10. Elenge:  From French, \u201celoigner,\u201d to remove; it may mean\r\neither the lonely, cheerless condition of the priest, or the strange\r\nbehaviour of the merchant in leaving him to himself.\r\n\r\n11. Make a chevisance: raise money by means of a borrowing\r\nagreement; from French,  \u201cachever,\u201d to finish; the general\r\nmeaning of the word is a bargain, an agreement.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PRIORESS\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\n\u201cWELL said, by *corpus Domini,\u201d* quoth our Host;       *the Lord\u2019s body*\r\n\u201cNow longe may\u2019st thou saile by the coast,\r\nThou gentle Master, gentle Marinere.\r\nGod give the monk *a thousand last quad year!*   *ever so much evil* <1>\r\nAha! fellows, beware of such a jape.*                             *trick\r\nThe monk *put in the manne\u2019s hood an ape,*                  *fooled him*\r\nAnd in his wife\u2019s eke, by Saint Austin.\r\nDrawe no monkes more into your inn.\r\nBut now pass over, and let us seek about,\r\nWho shall now telle first of all this rout\r\nAnother tale;\u201d and with that word he said,\r\nAs courteously as it had been a maid;\r\n\u201cMy Lady Prioresse, by your leave,\r\nSo that I wist I shoulde you not grieve,*                        *offend\r\nI woulde deeme* that ye telle should                      *judge, decide\r\nA tale next, if so were that ye would.\r\nNow will ye vouchesafe, my lady dear?\u201d\r\n\u201cGladly,\u201d quoth she; and said as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Prioress\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. A thousand last quad year: ever so much evil.   \u201cLast\u201d means\r\na load, \u201cquad,\u201d bad; and literally we may read \u201ca thousand\r\nweight of bad years.\u201d The Italians use \u201cmal anno\u201d in the same\r\nsense.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nO Lord our Lord! thy name how marvellous\r\nIs in this large world y-spread! <2> (quoth she)\r\nFor not only thy laude* precious                                 *praise\r\nPerformed is by men of high degree,\r\nBut by the mouth of children thy bounte*                       *goodness\r\nPerformed is, for on the breast sucking\r\nSometimes showe they thy herying.* <3>                            *glory\r\n\r\nWherefore in laud, as I best can or may\r\nOf thee, and of the white lily flow\u2019r\r\nWhich that thee bare, and is a maid alway,\r\nTo tell a story I will do my labour;\r\nNot that I may increase her honour,\r\nFor she herselven is honour and root\r\nOf bounte, next her son, and soules\u2019 boot.*                        *help\r\n\r\nO mother maid, O maid and mother free!*                       *bounteous\r\nO bush unburnt, burning in Moses\u2019 sight,\r\nThat ravished\u2019st down from the deity,\r\nThrough thy humbless, the ghost that in thee light; <4>\r\nOf whose virtue, when he thine hearte light,*      *lightened, gladdened\r\nConceived was the Father\u2019s sapience;\r\nHelp me to tell it to thy reverence.\r\n\r\nLady! thy bounty, thy magnificence,\r\nThy virtue, and thy great humility,\r\nThere may no tongue express in no science:\r\nFor sometimes, Lady! ere men pray to thee,\r\nThou go\u2019st before, of thy benignity,\r\nAnd gettest us the light, through thy prayere,\r\nTo guiden us unto thy son so dear.\r\n\r\nMy conning* is so weak, O blissful queen,                *skill, ability\r\nFor to declare thy great worthiness,\r\nThat I not may the weight of it sustene;\r\nBut as a child of twelvemonth old, or less,\r\nThat can unnethes* any word express,                           *scarcely\r\nRight so fare I; and therefore, I you pray,\r\nGuide my song that I shall of you say.\r\n\r\nThere was in Asia, in a great city,\r\nAmonges Christian folk, a Jewery,<5>\r\nSustained by a lord of that country,\r\nFor foul usure, and lucre of villainy,\r\nHateful to Christ, and to his company;\r\nAnd through the street men mighte ride and wend,*              *go, walk\r\nFor it was free, and open at each end.\r\n\r\nA little school of Christian folk there stood\r\nDown at the farther end, in which there were\r\nChildren an heap y-come of Christian blood,\r\nThat learned in that schoole year by year\r\nSuch manner doctrine as men used there;\r\nThis is to say, to singen and to read,\r\nAs smalle children do in their childhead.\r\n\r\nAmong these children was a widow\u2019s son,\r\nA little clergion,* seven year of age,           *young clerk or scholar\r\nThat day by day to scholay* was his won,**                 *study **wont\r\nAnd eke also, whereso he saw th\u2019 image\r\nOf Christe\u2019s mother, had he in usage,\r\nAs him was taught, to kneel adown, and say\r\nAve Maria as he went by the way.\r\n\r\nThus had this widow her little son y-taught\r\nOur blissful Lady, Christe\u2019s mother dear,\r\nTo worship aye, and he forgot it not;\r\nFor sely* child will always soone lear.**              *innocent **learn\r\nBut aye when I remember on this mattere,\r\nSaint Nicholas <6> stands ever in my presence;\r\nFor he so young to Christ did reverence.\r\n\r\nThis little child his little book learning,\r\nAs he sat in the school at his primere,\r\nHe Alma redemptoris <7> hearde sing,\r\nAs children learned their antiphonere; <8>\r\nAnd as he durst, he drew him nere and nere,*                     *nearer\r\nAnd hearken\u2019d aye the wordes and the note,\r\nTill he the firste verse knew all by rote.\r\n\r\nNought wist he what this Latin was tosay,*                        *meant\r\nFor he so young and tender was of age;\r\nBut on a day his fellow gan he pray\r\nTo expound him this song in his language,\r\nOr tell him why this song was in usage:\r\nThis pray\u2019d he him to construe and declare,\r\nFull oftentime upon his knees bare.\r\n\r\nHis fellow, which that elder was than he,\r\nAnswer\u2019d him thus: \u201cThis song, I have heard say,\r\nWas maked of our blissful Lady free,\r\nHer to salute, and eke her to pray\r\nTo be our help and succour when we dey.*                            *die\r\nI can no more expound in this mattere:\r\nI learne song, I know but small grammere.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd is this song y-made in reverence\r\nOf Christe\u2019s mother?\u201d said this innocent;\r\nNow certes I will do my diligence\r\nTo conne* it all, ere Christemas be went;                    *learn; con\r\nThough that I for my primer shall be shent,*                  *disgraced\r\nAnd shall be beaten thries in an hour,\r\nI will it conne, our Lady to honour.\u201d\r\n\r\nHis fellow taught him homeward* privily                 *on the way home\r\nFrom day to day, till he coud* it by rote,                         *knew\r\nAnd then he sang it well and boldely\r\nFrom word to word according with the note;\r\nTwice in a day it passed through his throat;\r\nTo schoole-ward, and homeward when he went;\r\nOn Christ\u2019s mother was set all his intent.\r\n\r\nAs I have said, throughout the Jewery,\r\nThis little child, as he came to and fro,\r\nFull merrily then would he sing and cry,\r\nO Alma redemptoris, evermo\u2019;\r\nThe sweetness hath his hearte pierced so\r\nOf Christe\u2019s mother, that to her to pray\r\nHe cannot stint* of singing by the way.                           *cease\r\n\r\nOur firste foe, the serpent Satanas,\r\nThat hath in Jewes\u2019 heart his waspe\u2019s nest,\r\nUpswell\u2019d and said, \u201cO Hebrew people, alas!\r\nIs this to you a thing that is honest,*            *creditable, becoming\r\nThat such a boy shall walken as him lest\r\nIn your despite, and sing of such sentence,\r\nWhich is against your lawe\u2019s reverence?\u201d\r\n\r\nFrom thenceforth the Jewes have conspired\r\nThis innocent out of the world to chase;\r\nA homicide thereto have they hired,\r\nThat in an alley had a privy place,\r\nAnd, as the child gan forth by for to pace,\r\nThis cursed Jew him hent,* and held him fast                     *seized\r\nAnd cut his throat, and in a pit him cast.\r\n\r\nI say that in a wardrobe* he him threw,                           *privy\r\nWhere as the Jewes purged their entrail.\r\nO cursed folk! O Herodes all new!\r\nWhat may your evil intente you avail?\r\nMurder will out, certain it will not fail,\r\nAnd namely* where th\u2019 honour of God shall spread;            *especially\r\nThe blood out crieth on your cursed deed.\r\n\r\nO martyr souded* to virginity,                            *confirmed <9>\r\nNow may\u2019st thou sing, and follow ever-in-one*               *continually\r\nThe white Lamb celestial (quoth she),\r\nOf which the great Evangelist Saint John\r\nIn Patmos wrote, which saith that they that gon\r\nBefore this Lamb, and sing a song all new,\r\nThat never fleshly woman they ne knew.<10>\r\n\r\nThis poore widow waited all that night\r\nAfter her little child, but he came not;\r\nFor which, as soon as it was daye\u2019s light,\r\nWith face pale, in dread and busy thought,\r\nShe hath at school and elleswhere him sought,\r\nTill finally she gan so far espy,\r\nThat he was last seen in the Jewery.\r\n\r\nWith mother\u2019s pity in her breast enclosed,\r\nShe went, as she were half out of her mind,\r\nTo every place, where she hath supposed\r\nBy likelihood her little child to find:\r\nAnd ever on Christ\u2019s mother meek and kind\r\nShe cried, and at the laste thus she wrought,\r\nAmong the cursed Jewes she him sought.\r\n\r\nShe freined,* and she prayed piteously                      *asked* <11>\r\nTo every Jew that dwelled in that place,\r\nTo tell her, if her childe went thereby;\r\nThey saide, \u201cNay;\u201d but Jesus of his grace\r\nGave in her thought, within a little space,\r\nThat in that place after her son she cried,\r\nWhere he was cast into a pit beside.\r\n\r\nO greate God, that preformest thy laud\r\nBy mouth of innocents, lo here thy might!\r\nThis gem of chastity, this emeraud,*                            *emerald\r\nAnd eke of martyrdom the ruby bright,\r\nWhere he with throat y-carven* lay upright,                         *cut\r\nHe Alma Redemptoris gan to sing\r\nSo loud, that all the place began to ring.\r\n\r\nThe Christian folk, that through the streete went,\r\nIn came, for to wonder on this thing:\r\nAnd hastily they for the provost sent.\r\nHe came anon withoute tarrying,\r\nAnd heried* Christ, that is of heaven king,                     *praised\r\nAnd eke his mother, honour of mankind;\r\nAnd after that the Jewes let* he bind.                           *caused\r\n\r\nWith torment, and with shameful death each one\r\nThe provost did* these Jewes for to sterve**               *caused **die\r\nThat of this murder wist, and that anon;\r\nHe woulde no such cursedness observe*                          *overlook\r\nEvil shall have that evil will deserve;\r\nTherefore with horses wild he did them draw,\r\nAnd after that he hung them by the law.\r\n\r\nThe child, with piteous lamentation,\r\nWas taken up, singing his song alway:\r\nAnd with honour and great procession,\r\nThey crry him unto the next abbay.\r\nHis mother swooning by the biere lay;\r\nUnnethes* might the people that were there                     *scarcely\r\nThis newe Rachel bringe from his bier.\r\n\r\nUpon his biere lay this innocent\r\nBefore the altar while the masses last\u2019;*                        *lasted\r\nAnd, after that, th\u2019 abbot with his convent\r\nHave sped them for to bury him full fast;\r\nAnd when they holy water on him cast,\r\nYet spake this child, when sprinkled was the water,\r\nAnd sang, O Alma redemptoris mater!\r\n\r\nThis abbot, which that was a holy man,\r\nAs monkes be, or elles ought to be,\r\nThis younger child to conjure he began,\r\nAnd said; \u201cO deare child! I halse* thee,                   *implore <12>\r\nIn virtue of the holy Trinity;\r\nTell me what is thy cause for to sing,\r\nSince that thy throat is cut, to my seeming.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cMy throat is cut unto my necke-bone,\u201d\r\nSaide this child, \u201cand, as *by way of kind,*       *in course of nature*\r\nI should have died, yea long time agone;\r\nBut Jesus Christ, as ye in bookes find,\r\nWill that his glory last and be in mind;\r\nAnd, for the worship* of his mother dear,                         *glory\r\nYet may I sing O Alma loud and clear.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis well* of mercy, Christe\u2019s mother sweet,                  *fountain\r\nI loved alway, after my conning:*                             *knowledge\r\nAnd when that I my life should forlete,*                          *leave\r\nTo me she came, and bade me for to sing\r\nThis anthem verily in my dying,\r\nAs ye have heard; and, when that I had sung,\r\nMe thought she laid a grain upon my tongue.\r\n\r\n\u201cWherefore I sing, and sing I must certain,\r\nIn honour of that blissful maiden free,\r\nTill from my tongue off taken is the grain.\r\nAnd after that thus saide she to me;\r\n\u2018My little child, then will I fetche thee,\r\nWhen that the grain is from thy tongue take:\r\nBe not aghast,* I will thee not forsake.\u2019\u201d                       *afraid\r\n\r\nThis holy monk, this abbot him mean I,\r\nHis tongue out caught, and took away the grain;\r\nAnd he gave up the ghost full softely.\r\nAnd when this abbot had this wonder seen,\r\nHis salte teares trickled down as rain:\r\nAnd groff* he fell all flat upon the ground,      *prostrate, grovelling\r\nAnd still he lay, as he had been y-bound.\r\n\r\nThe convent* lay eke on the pavement                      *all the monks\r\nWeeping, and herying* Christ\u2019s mother dear.                    *praising\r\nAnd after that they rose, and forth they went,\r\nAnd took away this martyr from his bier,\r\nAnd in a tomb of marble stones clear\r\nEnclosed they his little body sweet;\r\nWhere he is now, God lene* us for to meet.                        *grant\r\n\r\nO younge Hugh of Lincoln!<13> slain also\r\nWith cursed Jewes, \u2014 as it is notable,\r\nFor it is but a little while ago, \u2014\r\nPray eke for us, we sinful folk unstable,\r\nThat, of his mercy, God so merciable*                          *merciful\r\nOn us his greate mercy multiply,\r\nFor reverence of his mother Mary.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prioress\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Tales of the murder of children by Jews were frequent in the\r\nMiddle Ages, being probably designed to keep up the bitter\r\nfeeling of the Christians against the Jews. Not a few children\r\nwere canonised on this account; and the scene of the misdeeds\r\nwas laid anywhere and everywhere, so that Chaucer could be at\r\nno loss for material.\r\n\r\n2. This is from Psalm viii. 1, \u201cDomine, dominus noster,quam\r\nadmirabile est nomen tuum in universa terra.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. \u201cOut of the mouths of babes and sucklings hast Thou\r\nordained strength.\u201d \u2014 Psalms viii. 2.\r\n\r\n4. The ghost that in thee light: the spirit that on thee alighted;\r\nthe Holy Ghost through whose power Christ was conceived.\r\n\r\n5. Jewery: A quarter which the Jews were permitted to inhabit;\r\nthe Old Jewry in London got its name in this way.\r\n\r\n6. St. Nicholas, even in his swaddling clothes \u2014 so says the\r\n\u201cBreviarium Romanum\u201d \u2014gave promise of extraordinary virtue\r\nand holiness; for, though he sucked freely on other days, on\r\nWednesdays and Fridays he applied to the breast only once, and\r\nthat not until the evening.\r\n\r\n7. \u201cO Alma Redemptoris Mater,\u201d (\u201cO soul mother of the\r\nRedeemer\u201d) \u2014 the beginning of a hymn to the Virgin.\r\n\r\n8. Antiphonere: A book of anthems, or psalms, chanted in the\r\nchoir by alternate verses.\r\n\r\n9. Souded; confirmed; from French, \u201csoulde;\u201d Latin, \u201csolidatus.\u201d\r\n\r\n10. \u201cAnd they sung as it were a new song before the throne, and\r\nbefore the four beasts, and the elders: and no man could learn\r\nthat song but the hundred and forty and four thousand, which\r\nwere redeemed from the earth.\r\nThese are they which were not defiled with women; for they are\r\nvirgins. These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever he\r\ngoeth. These were redeemed from among men, being the\r\nfirstfruits unto God and to the Lamb.\u201d\r\n\u2014 Revelations xiv. 3, 4.\r\n\r\n11. Freined: asked, inquired; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cfrinan,\u201d\r\n\u201cfraegnian.\u201d Compare German, \u201cfragen.\u201d\r\n\r\n12. Halse:  embrace or salute; implore: from Anglo-Saxon\r\n\u201chals,\u201d the neck.\r\n\r\n14 A boy said to have been slain by the Jews at Lincoln in 1255,\r\naccording to Matthew Paris.  Many popular ballads were made\r\nabout the event, which the diligence of the Church doubtless\r\nkept fresh in mind at Chaucer\u2019s day.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAUCER\u2019S TALE OF SIR THOPAS.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.<1>\r\n\r\nWHEN said was this miracle, every man\r\nAs sober* was, that wonder was to see,                          *serious\r\nTill that our Host to japen* he began,                     *talk lightly\r\nAnd then *at erst* he looked upon me,               *for the first time*\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cWhat man art thou?\u201d quoth he;\r\n\u201cThou lookest as thou wouldest find an hare,\r\nFor ever on the ground I see thee stare.\r\n\r\n\u201cApproache near, and look up merrily.\r\nNow ware you, Sirs, and let this man have place.\r\nHe in the waist is shapen as well as I; <2>\r\nThis were a puppet in an arm t\u2019embrace\r\nFor any woman small and fair of face.\r\nHe seemeth elvish* by his countenance,                    *surly, morose\r\nFor unto no wight doth he dalliance.\r\n\r\n\u201cSay now somewhat, since other folk have said;\r\nTell us a tale of mirth, and that anon.\u201d\r\n\u201cHoste,\u201d quoth I, \u201cbe not evil apaid,*                     *dissatisfied\r\nFor other tale certes can* I none,                                 *know\r\nEut of a rhyme I learned yore* agone.\u201d                             *long\r\n\u201cYea, that is good,\u201d quoth he; \u201cnow shall we hear\r\nSome dainty thing, me thinketh by thy cheer.\u201d*         *expression, mien\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Sir Thopas\r\n\r\n\r\n1. This prologue is interesting, for the picture which it gives of\r\nChaucer himself; riding apart from and indifferent to the rest of\r\nthe pilgrims, with eyes fixed on the ground, and an \u201celvish\u201d,\r\nmorose, or rather self-absorbed air; portly, if not actually stout,\r\nin body; and evidently a man out of the common, as the closing\r\nwords of the Host imply.\r\n\r\n2. Referring to the poet\u2019s corpulency.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE <1>\r\n\r\nThe First Fit*                                                     *part\r\n\r\nListen, lordings, in good intent,\r\nAnd I will tell you verrament*                                    *truly\r\nOf mirth and of solas,*                                 *delight, solace\r\nAll of a knight was fair and gent,*                              *gentle\r\nIn battle and in tournament,\r\nHis name was Sir Thopas.\r\n\r\nY-born he was in far country,\r\nIn Flanders, all beyond the sea,\r\nAt Popering <2> in the place;\r\nHis father was a man full free,\r\nAnd lord he was of that country,\r\nAs it was Godde\u2019s grace. <3>\r\n\r\nSir Thopas was a doughty swain,\r\nWhite was his face as paindemain, <4>\r\nHis lippes red as rose.\r\nHis rode* is like scarlet in grain,                          *complexion\r\nAnd I you tell in good certain\r\nHe had a seemly nose.\r\n\r\nHis hair, his beard, was like saffroun,\r\nThat to his girdle reach\u2019d adown,\r\nHis shoes of cordewane:<5>\r\nOf Bruges were his hosen brown;\r\nHis robe was of ciclatoun,<6>\r\nThat coste many a jane.<7>\r\n\r\nHe coulde hunt at the wild deer,\r\nAnd ride on hawking *for rivere*                          *by the river*\r\nWith gray goshawk on hand: <8>\r\nThereto he was a good archere,\r\nOf wrestling was there none his peer,\r\nWhere any ram <9> should stand.\r\n\r\nFull many a maiden bright in bow\u2019r\r\nThey mourned for him par amour,\r\nWhen them were better sleep;\r\nBut he was chaste, and no lechour,\r\nAnd sweet as is the bramble flow\u2019r\r\nThat beareth the red heep.*                                         *hip\r\n\r\nAnd so it fell upon a day,\r\nFor sooth as I you telle may,\r\nSir Thopas would out ride;\r\nHe worth* upon his steede gray,                                 *mounted\r\nAnd in his hand a launcegay,*                                *spear <10>\r\nA long sword by his side.\r\n\r\nHe pricked through a fair forest,\r\nWherein is many a wilde beast,\r\nYea, bothe buck and hare;\r\nAnd as he pricked north and east,\r\nI tell it you, him had almest                                    *almost\r\nBetid* a sorry care.                                           *befallen\r\n\r\nThere sprange herbes great and small,\r\nThe liquorice and the setewall,*                               *valerian\r\nAnd many a clove-gilofre, <12>\r\nAnd nutemeg to put in ale,\r\nWhether it be moist* or stale,                                      *new\r\nOr for to lay in coffer.\r\n\r\nThe birdes sang, it is no nay,\r\nThe sperhawk* and the popinjay,**             *sparrowhawk **parrot <13>\r\nThat joy it was to hear;\r\nThe throstle-cock made eke his lay,\r\nThe woode-dove upon the spray\r\nShe sang full loud and clear.\r\n\r\nSir Thopas fell in love-longing\r\nAll when he heard the throstle sing,\r\nAnd *prick\u2019d as he were wood;*                            *rode as if he\r\nHis faire steed in his pricking                                were mad*\r\nSo sweated, that men might him wring,\r\nHis sides were all blood.\r\n\r\nSir Thopas eke so weary was\r\nFor pricking on the softe grass,\r\nSo fierce was his corage,*                          *inclination, spirit\r\nThat down he laid him in that place,\r\nTo make his steed some solace,\r\nAnd gave him good forage.\r\n\r\n\u201cAh, Saint Mary, ben\u2019dicite,\r\nWhat aileth thilke* love at me                                     *this\r\nTo binde me so sore?\r\nMe dreamed all this night, pardie,\r\nAn elf-queen shall my leman* be,                               *mistress\r\nAnd sleep under my gore.*                                         *shirt\r\n\r\nAn elf-queen will I love, y-wis,*                             *assuredly\r\nFor in this world no woman is\r\nWorthy to be my make*                                              *mate\r\nIn town;\r\nAll other women I forsake,\r\nAnd to an elf-queen I me take\r\nBy dale and eke by down.\u201d <14>\r\n\r\nInto his saddle he clomb anon,\r\nAnd pricked over stile and stone\r\nAn elf-queen for to spy,\r\nTill he so long had ridden and gone,\r\nThat he found in a privy wonne*                                   *haunt\r\nThe country of Faery,\r\nSo wild;\r\nFor in that country was there none\r\nThat to him durste ride or gon,\r\nNeither wife nor child.\r\n\r\nTill that there came a great giaunt,\r\nHis name was Sir Oliphaunt,<15>\r\nA perilous man of deed;\r\nHe saide, \u201cChild,* by Termagaunt, <16>                        *young man\r\n*But if* thou prick out of mine haunt,                           *unless\r\nAnon I slay thy steed\r\nWith mace.\r\nHere is the Queen of Faery,\r\nWith harp, and pipe, and symphony,\r\nDwelling in this place.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe Child said, \u201cAll so may I the,*                              *thrive\r\nTo-morrow will I meete thee,\r\nWhen I have mine armor;\r\nAnd yet I hope, *par ma fay,*                              *by my faith*\r\nThat thou shalt with this launcegay\r\nAbyen* it full sore;                                         *suffer for\r\nThy maw*                                                          *belly\r\nShall I pierce, if I may,\r\nEre it be fully prime of day,\r\nFor here thou shalt be slaw.\u201d*                                    *slain\r\n\r\nSir Thopas drew aback full fast;\r\nThis giant at him stones cast\r\nOut of a fell staff sling:\r\nBut fair escaped Child Thopas,\r\nAnd all it was through Godde\u2019s grace,\r\nAnd through his fair bearing. <17>\r\n\r\nYet listen, lordings, to my tale,\r\nMerrier than the nightingale,\r\nFor now I will you rown,*                                       *whisper\r\nHow Sir Thopas, with sides smale,*                           *small <18>\r\nPricking over hill and dale,\r\nIs come again to town.\r\n\r\nHis merry men commanded he\r\nTo make him both game and glee;\r\nFor needes must he fight\r\nWith a giant with heades three,\r\nFor paramour and jollity\r\nOf one that shone full bright.\r\n\r\n\u201c*Do come,*\u201d he saide, \u201cmy minstrales                           *summon*\r\nAnd gestours* for to telle tales.                         *story-tellers\r\nAnon in mine arming,\r\nOf romances that be royales, <19>\r\nOf popes and of cardinales,\r\nAnd eke of love-longing.\u201d\r\n\r\nThey fetch\u2019d him first the sweete wine,\r\nAnd mead eke in a maseline,*                              *drinking-bowl\r\nAnd royal spicery;                                    of maple wood <20>\r\nOf ginger-bread that was full fine,\r\nAnd liquorice and eke cumin,\r\nWith sugar that is trie.*                                       *refined\r\n\r\nHe didde,* next his white lere,**                         *put on **skin\r\nOf cloth of lake* fine and clear,                            *fine linen\r\nA breech and eke a shirt;\r\nAnd next his shirt an haketon,*                                 *cassock\r\nAnd over that an habergeon,*                               *coat of mail\r\nFor piercing of his heart;\r\n\r\nAnd over that a fine hauberk,*                             *plate-armour\r\nWas all y-wrought of Jewes\u2019* werk,                           *magicians\u2019\r\nFull strong it was of plate;\r\nAnd over that his coat-armour,*                        *knight\u2019s surcoat\r\nAs white as is the lily flow\u2019r, <21>\r\nIn which he would debate.*                                        *fight\r\n\r\nHis shield was all of gold so red\r\nAnd therein was a boare\u2019s head,\r\nA charboucle* beside;                                    *carbuncle <22>\r\nAnd there he swore on ale and bread,\r\nHow that the giant should be dead,\r\nBetide whatso betide.\r\n\r\nHis jambeaux* were of cuirbouly, <23>                             *boots\r\nHis sworde\u2019s sheath of ivory,\r\nHis helm of latoun* bright,                                       *brass\r\nHis saddle was of rewel <24> bone,\r\nHis bridle as the sunne shone,\r\nOr as the moonelight.\r\n\r\nHis speare was of fine cypress,\r\nThat bodeth war, and nothing peace;\r\nThe head full sharp y-ground.\r\nHis steede was all dapple gray,\r\nIt went an amble in the way\r\nFull softely and round\r\nIn land.\r\n\r\nLo, Lordes mine, here is a fytt;\r\nIf ye will any more of it,\r\nTo tell it will I fand.*                                            *try\r\n\r\nThe Second Fit\r\n\r\nNow hold your mouth for charity,\r\nBothe knight and lady free,\r\nAnd hearken to my spell;*                                     *tale <25>\r\nOf battle and of chivalry,\r\nOf ladies\u2019 love and druerie,*                                 *gallantry\r\nAnon I will you tell.\r\n\r\nMen speak of romances of price*                          * worth, esteem\r\nOf Horn Child, and of Ipotis,\r\nOf Bevis, and Sir Guy, <26>\r\nOf Sir Libeux, <27> and Pleindamour,\r\nBut Sir Thopas, he bears the flow\u2019r\r\nOf royal chivalry.\r\n\r\nHis goode steed he all bestrode,\r\nAnd forth upon his way he glode,*                                 *shone\r\nAs sparkle out of brand;*                                         *torch\r\nUpon his crest he bare a tow\u2019r,\r\nAnd therein stick\u2019d a lily flow\u2019r; <28>\r\nGod shield his corse* from shand!**                         *body **harm\r\n\r\nAnd, for he was a knight auntrous,*                         *adventurous\r\nHe woulde sleepen in none house,\r\nBut liggen* in his hood,                                            *lie\r\nHis brighte helm was his wanger,*                           *pillow <29>\r\nAnd by him baited* his destrer**                       *fed **horse <30>\r\nOf herbes fine and good.\r\n\r\nHimself drank water of the well,\r\nAs did the knight Sir Percivel, <31>\r\nSo worthy under weed;\r\nTill on a day -   .   .   .\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Sir Thopas\r\n\r\n\r\n1. \u201cThe Rhyme of Sir Thopas,\u201d as it is generally called, is\r\nintroduced by Chaucer as a satire on the dull, pompous, and\r\nprolix metrical romances then in vogue. It is full of phrases\r\ntaken from the popular rhymesters in the vein which he holds up\r\nto ridicule; if, indeed \u2014 though of that there is no evidence \u2014 it\r\nbe not actually part of an old romance which Chaucer selected\r\nand reproduced to point his assault on the prevailing taste in\r\nliterature.\r\nTranscriber\u2019s note: The Tale is full of incongruities of every\r\nkind, which Purves does not refer to; I point some of them out\r\nin the notes which follow - marked TN.\r\n\r\n2. Poppering, or Poppeling, a parish in the marches of Calais of\r\nwhich the famous antiquary Leland was once Rector. TN: The\r\ninhabitants of Popering had a reputation for stupidity.\r\n\r\n3. TN: The lord of Popering was the abbot of the local\r\nmonastery - who could, of course, have no legitimate children.\r\n\r\n4. Paindemain: Either \u201cpain de matin,\u201d morning bread, or \u201cpain\r\nde Maine,\u201d because it was made best in that province; a kind of\r\nfine white bread.\r\n\r\n5. Cordewane: Cordovan; fine Spanish leather, so called from\r\nthe name of the city where it was prepared\r\n\r\n6. Ciclatoun: A rich Oriental stuff of silk and gold, of which was\r\nmade the circular robe of state called a \u201cciclaton,\u201d from the\r\nLatin, \u201ccyclas.\u201d The word is French.\r\n\r\n7. Jane: a Genoese coin, of small value; in our old statutes\r\ncalled \u201cgallihalpens,\u201d or galley half-pence.\r\n\r\n8. TN: In Mediaeval falconry the goshawk was not regarded as\r\na fit bird for a knight.  It was the yeoman\u2019s bird.\r\n\r\n9. A ram was the usual prize of wrestling contests. TN:\r\nWrestling and archery were sports of the common people, not\r\nknightly accomplishments.\r\n\r\n10. Launcegay: spear; \u201cazagay\u201d is the name of a Moorish\r\nweapon, and the identity of termination is singular.\r\n\r\n12. Clove-gilofre: clove-gilliflower; \u201cCaryophyllus hortensis.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. TN: The sparrowhawk and parrot can only squawk\r\nunpleasantly.\r\n\r\n14. TN: The sudden and pointless changes in the stanza form\r\nare of course part of Chaucer\u2019s parody.\r\n\r\n15. Sir Oliphaunt: literally, \u201cSir Elephant;\u201d Sir John Mandeville\r\ncalls those animals \u201cOlyfauntes.\u201d\r\n\r\n16. Termagaunt: A pagan or Saracen deity, otherwise named\r\nTervagan, and often mentioned in Middle Age literature. His\r\nname has passed into our language, to denote a ranter or\r\nblusterer, as be was represented to be.\r\n\r\n17. TN: His \u201cfair bearing\u201d would not have been much defence\r\nagainst a sling-stone.\r\n\r\n18. TN: \u201cSides small\u201d: a conventional description for a woman,\r\nnot a man.\r\n\r\n19. Romances that be royal:  so called because they related to\r\nCharlemagne and his family.\r\n\r\n20. TN: A knight would be expected to have a gold or silver\r\ndrinking vessel.\r\n\r\n21. TN: The coat-armour or coat of arms should have had his\r\nheraldic emblems on it, not been pure white\r\n\r\n22. Charboucle:  Carbuncle; French, \u201cescarboucle;\u201d a heraldic\r\ndevice resembling a jewel.\r\n\r\n23. Cuirbouly:  \u201cCuir boulli,\u201d French, boiled or prepared\r\nleather; also used to cover shields, &c.\r\n\r\n24. Rewel bone: No satisfactory explanation has been furnished\r\nof  this word, used to describe some material from which  rich\r\nsaddles were made. TN: The OED defines it as narwhal ivory.\r\n\r\n25. Spell:  Tale, discourse, from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cspellian,\u201d to\r\ndeclare, tell a story.\r\n\r\n26. Sir Bevis of Hampton, and Sir Guy of Warwick, two\r\nknights of great renown.\r\n\r\n27. Libeux:  One of Arthur\u2019s knights, called \u201cLy beau\r\ndesconus,\u201d \u201cthe fair unknown.\u201d\r\n\r\n28. TN: The crest was a small emblem worn on top of a knight\u2019s\r\nhelmet. A tower with a lily stuck in it would have been\r\nunwieldy and absurd.\r\n\r\n29. Wanger:  pillow; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cwangere,\u201d because\r\nthe \u201cwanges;\u201d or cheeks, rested on it.\r\n\r\n30. Destrer:  \u201cdestrier,\u201d French, a war-horse; in Latin,\r\n\u201cdextrarius,\u201d as if led by the right hand.\r\n\r\n31. Sir Percival de Galois, whose adventures were written in\r\nmore than 60,000 verses by Chretien de Troyes, one of the\r\noldest and best French romancers, in 1191.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAUCER\u2019S TALE OF MELIB\u0152US.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\n\u201cNo more of this, for Godde\u2019s dignity!\u201d\r\nQuoth oure Hoste; \u201cfor thou makest me\r\nSo weary of thy very lewedness,*               *stupidity, ignorance <1>\r\nThat, all so wisly* God my soule bless,                          *surely\r\nMine eares ache for thy drafty* speech.                   *worthless <2>\r\nNow such a rhyme the devil I beteche:*                       *commend to\r\nThis may well be rhyme doggerel,\u201d quoth he.\r\n\u201cWhy so?\u201d quoth I; \u201cwhy wilt thou lette* me                     *prevent\r\nMore of my tale than any other man,\r\nSince that it is the best rhyme that I can?\u201d*                      *know\r\n\u201cBy God!\u201d quoth he, \u201cfor, plainly at one word,\r\nThy drafty rhyming is not worth a tord:\r\nThou dost naught elles but dispendest* time.                    *wastest\r\nSir, at one word, thou shalt no longer rhyme.\r\nLet see whether thou canst tellen aught *in gest,*            *by way of\r\nOr tell in prose somewhat, at the least,                      narrative*\r\nIn which there be some mirth or some doctrine.\u201d\r\n\u201cGladly,\u201d quoth I, \u201cby Godde\u2019s sweete pine,*                  *suffering\r\nI will you tell a little thing in prose,\r\nThat oughte like* you, as I suppose,                             *please\r\nOr else certes ye be too dangerous.*                         *fastidious\r\nIt is a moral tale virtuous,\r\n*All be it* told sometimes in sundry wise               *although it be*\r\nBy sundry folk, as I shall you devise.\r\nAs thus, ye wot that ev\u2019ry Evangelist,\r\nThat telleth us the pain* of Jesus Christ,                      *passion\r\nHe saith not all thing as his fellow doth;\r\nBut natheless their sentence is all soth,*                         *true\r\nAnd all accorden as in their sentence,*                         *meaning\r\nAll be there in their telling difference;\r\nFor some of them say more, and some say less,\r\nWhen they his piteous passion express;\r\nI mean of Mark and Matthew, Luke and John;\r\nBut doubteless their sentence is all one.\r\nTherefore, lordinges all, I you beseech,\r\nIf that ye think I vary in my speech,\r\nAs thus, though that I telle somedeal more\r\nOf proverbes, than ye have heard before\r\nComprehended in this little treatise here,\r\n*T\u2019enforce with* the effect of my mattere,                *with which to\r\nAnd though I not the same wordes say                            enforce*\r\nAs ye have heard, yet to you all I pray\r\nBlame me not; for as in my sentence\r\nShall ye nowhere finde no difference\r\nFrom the sentence of thilke* treatise lite,**             *this **little\r\nAfter the which this merry tale I write.\r\nAnd therefore hearken to what I shall say,\r\nAnd let me tellen all my tale, I pray.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Melib\u0153us.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Chaucer crowns the satire on the romanticists by making the\r\nvery landlord of the Tabard cry out in indignant disgust against\r\nthe stuff which he had heard recited \u2014 the good Host ascribing\r\nto sheer ignorance the string of pompous platitudes and prosaic\r\ndetails which Chaucer had uttered.\r\n\r\n2. Drafty:  worthless, vile; no better than draff or dregs; from\r\nthe Anglo-Saxon, \u201cdrifan\u201d to drive away, expel.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE.<1>\r\n\r\nA young man called Melib\u0153us, mighty and rich, begat upon his\r\nwife, that called was Prudence, a daughter which that called was\r\nSophia. Upon a day befell, that he for his disport went into the\r\nfields him to play.  His wife and eke his daughter hath he left\r\nwithin his house, of which the doors were fast shut. Three of his\r\nold foes have it espied, and set ladders to the walls of his house,\r\nand by the windows be entered, and beaten his wife, and\r\nwounded his daughter with five mortal wounds, in five sundry\r\nplaces; that is to say, in her feet, in her hands, in her ears, in her\r\nnose, and in her mouth; and left her for dead, and went away.\r\nWhen Melib\u0153us returned was into his house, and saw all this\r\nmischief, he, like a man mad, rending his clothes, gan weep and\r\ncry. Prudence his wife, as farforth as she durst, besought him of\r\nhis weeping for to stint: but not forthy [notwithstanding] he gan\r\nto weep and cry ever longer the more.\r\n\r\nThis noble wife Prudence remembered her upon the sentence of\r\nOvid, in his book that called is the \u201cRemedy of Love,\u201d <2>\r\nwhere he saith: He is a fool that disturbeth the mother to weep\r\nin the death of her child, till she have wept her fill, as for a\r\ncertain time; and then shall a man do his diligence with amiable\r\nwords her to recomfort and pray her of her weeping for to stint\r\n[cease]. For which reason this noble wife Prudence suffered her\r\nhusband for to weep and cry, as for a certain space; and when\r\nshe saw her time, she said to him in this wise: \u201cAlas! my lord,\u201d\r\nquoth she, \u201cwhy make ye yourself for to be like a fool? For\r\nsooth it appertaineth not to a wise man to make such a sorrow.\r\nYour daughter, with the grace of God, shall warish [be cured]\r\nand escape. And all [although] were it so that she right now\r\nwere dead, ye ought not for her death yourself to destroy.\r\nSeneca saith, \u2018The wise man shall not take too great discomfort\r\nfor the death of his children, but certes he should suffer it in\r\npatience, as well as he abideth the death of his own proper\r\nperson.\u2019\u201d\r\n\r\nMelib\u0153us answered anon and said: \u201cWhat man,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cshould of his weeping stint, that hath so great a cause to weep?\r\nJesus Christ, our Lord, himself wept for the death of Lazarus\r\nhis friend.\u201d  Prudence answered, \u201cCertes, well I wot,\r\nattempered [moderate] weeping is nothing defended [forbidden]\r\nto him that sorrowful is, among folk in sorrow but it is rather\r\ngranted him to weep.  The Apostle Paul unto the Romans\r\nwriteth, \u2018Man shall rejoice with them that make joy, and weep\r\nwith such folk as weep.\u2019  But though temperate weeping be\r\ngranted, outrageous weeping certes is defended. Measure of\r\nweeping should be conserved,  after the lore [doctrine] that\r\nteacheth us Seneca.  \u2018When that thy friend is dead,\u2019 quoth he, \u2018let\r\nnot thine eyes too moist be of tears, nor too much dry: although\r\nthe tears come to thine eyes, let them not fall.  And when thou\r\nhast forgone [lost] thy friend, do diligence to get again another\r\nfriend: and this is more wisdom than to weep for thy friend\r\nwhich that thou hast lorn [lost] for therein is no boot\r\n[advantage].  And therefore if ye govern you by sapience, put\r\naway sorrow out of your heart. Remember you that Jesus\r\nSirach saith, \u2018A man that is joyous and glad in heart, it him\r\nconserveth flourishing in his age: but soothly a sorrowful heart\r\nmaketh his bones dry.\u2019  He said eke thus, \u2018that sorrow in heart\r\nslayth full many a man.\u2019 Solomon  saith \u2018that right as moths in\r\nthe sheep\u2019s fleece annoy [do injury] to the clothes, and the small\r\nworms to the tree, right so annoyeth sorrow to the heart of\r\nman.\u2019 Wherefore us ought as well in the death of our children,\r\nas in the loss of our goods temporal, have patience. Remember\r\nyou upon the patient Job, when he had lost his children and his\r\ntemporal substance, and in his body endured and received full\r\nmany a grievous tribulation, yet said he thus: \u2018Our Lord hath\r\ngiven it to me, our Lord hath bereft it me; right as our Lord\r\nwould, right so be it done; blessed be the name of our Lord.\u201d\u2019\r\n\r\nTo these foresaid things answered Melib\u0153us unto his wife\r\nPrudence: \u201cAll thy words,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbe true, and thereto\r\n[also] profitable, but truly mine heart is troubled with this\r\nsorrow so grievously, that I know not what to do.\u201d  \u201cLet call,\u201d\r\nquoth Prudence, \u201cthy true friends all, and thy lineage, which be\r\nwise, and tell to them your case, and hearken what they say in\r\ncounselling, and govern you after their sentence [opinion].\r\nSolomon saith, \u2018Work all things by counsel, and thou shall never\r\nrepent.\u2019\u201d Then, by counsel of his wife Prudence, this Melib\u0153us\r\nlet call [sent for] a great congregation of folk, as surgeons,\r\nphysicians, old folk and young, and some of his old enemies\r\nreconciled (as by their semblance) to his love and to his grace;\r\nand therewithal there come some of his neighbours, that did him\r\nreverence more for dread than for love, as happeneth oft. There\r\ncome also full many subtle flatterers, and wise advocates\r\nlearned in the law. And when these folk together assembled\r\nwere, this Melib\u0153us in sorrowful wise showed them his case,\r\nand by the manner of his speech it seemed that in heart he bare\r\na cruel ire, ready to do vengeance upon his foes, and suddenly\r\ndesired that the war should begin, but nevertheless yet asked he\r\ntheir counsel in this matter. A surgeon, by licence and assent of\r\nsuch as were wise, up rose, and to Melib\u0153us said as ye may\r\nhear.  \u201cSir,\u201d quoth he, \u201cas to us surgeons appertaineth, that we\r\ndo to every wight the best that we can, where as we be\r\nwithholden, [employed] and to our patient that we do no\r\ndamage; wherefore it happeneth many a time and oft, that when\r\ntwo men have wounded each other, one same surgeon healeth\r\nthem both; wherefore unto our art it is not pertinent to nurse\r\nwar, nor parties to support [take sides].  But certes, as to the\r\nwarishing [healing] of your daughter, albeit so that perilously\r\nshe be wounded, we shall do so attentive business from day to\r\nnight, that, with the grace of God, she shall be whole and\r\nsound, as soon as is possible.\u201d Almost right in the same wise the\r\nphysicians answered, save that they said a few words more: that\r\nright as maladies be cured by their contraries, right so shall man\r\nwarish war (by peace). His neighbours full of envy, his feigned\r\nfriends that seemed reconciled, and his flatterers, made\r\nsemblance of weeping, and impaired and agregged [aggravated]\r\nmuch of this matter, in praising greatly Melib\u0153us of might, of\r\npower, of riches, and of friends, despising the power of his\r\nadversaries: and said utterly, that he anon should wreak him on\r\nhis foes, and begin war.\r\n\r\nUp rose then an advocate that was wise, by leave and by\r\ncounsel of other that were wise, and said, \u201cLordings, the need\r\n[business] for which we be assembled in this place, is a full\r\nheavy thing, and an high matter, because of the wrong and of\r\nthe wickedness that hath been done, and eke by reason of the\r\ngreat damages that in time coming be possible to fall for the\r\nsame cause, and eke by reason of the great riches and power of\r\nthe parties both; for which reasons, it were a full great peril to\r\nerr in this matter. Wherefore, Melib\u0153us, this is our sentence\r\n[opinion]; we counsel you, above all things, that right anon thou\r\ndo thy diligence in keeping of thy body, in such a wise that thou\r\nwant no espy  nor watch thy body to save. And after that, we\r\ncounsel that in thine house thou set sufficient garrison, so that\r\nthey may as well thy body as thy house defend. But, certes, to\r\nmove war or suddenly to do vengeance, we may not deem\r\n[judge] in so little time that it were profitable. Wherefore we\r\nask leisure and space to have deliberation in this case to deem;\r\nfor the common proverb saith thus; \u2018He that soon deemeth soon\r\nshall repent.\u2019 And eke men say, that that judge is wise, that soon\r\nunderstandeth a matter, and judgeth by leisure. For albeit so\r\nthat all tarrying be annoying, algates [nevertheless] it is no\r\nreproof [subject for reproach] in giving of judgement, nor in\r\nvengeance taking, when it is sufficient and, reasonable.  And\r\nthat shewed our Lord Jesus Christ by example; for when that\r\nthe woman that was taken in adultery was brought in his\r\npresence to know what should be done with her person, albeit\r\nthat he wist well himself what he would answer, yet would he\r\nnot answer suddenly, but he would have deliberation, and in the\r\nground he wrote twice. And by these causes we ask deliberation\r\nand we shall then by the grace of God counsel the thing that\r\nshall be profitable.\u201d\r\n\r\nUp started then the young folk anon at once, and the most part\r\nof that company have scorned these old wise men and begun to\r\nmake noise and said, \u201cRight as while that iron is hot men should\r\nsmite, right so men should wreak their wrongs while that they\r\nbe fresh and new:\u201d  and with loud voice they cried. \u201cWar! War!\u201d\r\nUp rose then one of these old wise, and with his hand made\r\ncountenance [a sign, gesture] that men should hold them still,\r\nand give him audience. \u201cLordings,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthere is full many\r\na man that crieth, \u2018War! war!\u2019 that wot full little what war\r\namounteth.  War at his beginning hath so great an entering and\r\nso large, that every wight may enter when him liketh, and lightly\r\n[easily] find war: but certes what end shall fall thereof it is not\r\nlight to know. For soothly when war is once begun, there is full\r\nmany a child unborn of his mother, that shall sterve [die] young\r\nby cause of that war, or else live in sorrow and die in\r\nwretchedness; and therefore, ere that any war be begun, men\r\nmust have great counsel and great deliberation.\u201d  And when this\r\nold man weened [thought, intended] to enforce his tale by\r\nreasons, well-nigh all at once began they to rise for to break his\r\ntale, and bid him full oft his words abridge. For soothly he that\r\npreacheth to them that list not hear his words, his sermon them\r\nannoyeth. For Jesus Sirach saith, that music in weeping is a\r\nnoyous [troublesome] thing.  This is to say, as much availeth to\r\nspeak before folk to whom his speech annoyeth, as to sing\r\nbefore him that weepeth.  And when this wise man saw that him\r\nwanted audience, all shamefast he sat him down again.  For\r\nSolomon saith, \u2018Where as thou mayest have no audience,\r\nenforce thee not to speak.\u2019  \u201cI  see well,\u201d quoth this wise man,\r\n\u201cthat the common proverb is sooth, that good counsel wanteth,\r\nwhen it is most need.\u201d Yet [besides, further] had this Melib\u0153us\r\nin his council many folk, that privily in his ear counselled him\r\ncertain thing, and counselled him the contrary in general\r\naudience. When Melib\u0153us had heard that the greatest part of\r\nhis council were accorded [in agreement] that he should make\r\nwar, anon he consented to their counselling, and fully affirmed\r\ntheir sentence [opinion, judgement].\r\n\r\n(Dame Prudence, seeing her husband\u2019s resolution thus taken, in\r\nfull humble wise, when she saw her time, begins to counsel him\r\nagainst war, by a warning against haste in requital of either\r\ngood or evil.  Melib\u0153us tells her that he will not work by her\r\ncounsel, because he should be held a fool if he rejected for her\r\nadvice the opinion of so many wise men; because all women are\r\nbad; because it would seem that he had given her the mastery\r\nover him; and because she could not keep his secret, if he\r\nresolved to follow her advice. To these reasons Prudence\r\nanswers that it is no folly to change counsel when things, or\r\nmen\u2019s judgements of them, change \u2014 especially to alter a\r\nresolution taken on the impulse of a great multitude of folk,\r\nwhere every man crieth and clattereth what him liketh; that if all\r\nwomen had been wicked, Jesus Christ would never have\r\ndescended to be born of a woman, nor have showed himself\r\nfirst to a woman after his resurrection and that when Solomon\r\nsaid he had found no good woman, he meant that God alone\r\nwas supremely good; <3> that her husband would not seem to\r\ngive her the mastery by following her counsel, for he had his\r\nown free choice in following or rejecting it; and that he knew\r\nwell and had often tested her great silence, patience, and\r\nsecrecy. And whereas he had quoted a saying, that in wicked\r\ncounsel women vanquish men, she reminds him that she would\r\ncounsel him against doing a wickedness on which he had set his\r\nmind, and cites instances to show that many women have been\r\nand yet are full good, and their counsel wholesome and\r\nprofitable. Lastly, she quotes the words of God himself, when\r\nhe was about to make woman as an help meet for man; and\r\npromises that, if her husband will trust her counsel, she will\r\nrestore to him his daughter whole and sound, and make him\r\nhave honour in this case.  Melib\u0153us answers that because of his\r\nwife\u2019s sweet words, and also because he has proved and assayed\r\nher great wisdom and her great truth, he will govern him by her\r\ncounsel in all things. Thus encouraged, Prudence enters on a\r\nlong discourse, full of learned citations, regarding the manner in\r\nwhich counsellors should be chosen and consulted, and the\r\ntimes and reasons for changing a counsel. First, God must be\r\nbesought for guidance. Then a man must well examine his own\r\nthoughts, of such things as he holds to be best for his own\r\nprofit; driving out of his heart anger, covetousness, and\r\nhastiness, which perturb and pervert the judgement. Then he\r\nmust keep his counsel secret, unless confiding it to another shall\r\nbe more profitable; but, in so confiding it, he shall say nothing\r\nto bias the mind of the counsellor toward flattery or\r\nsubserviency. After that he should consider his friends and his\r\nenemies, choosing of the former such as be most faithful and\r\nwise, and eldest and most approved in counselling; and even of\r\nthese only a few. Then he must eschew the counselling of fools,\r\nof flatterers, of his old enemies that be reconciled, of servants\r\nwho bear him great reverence and fear, of folk that be drunken\r\nand can hide no counsel, of such as counsel one thing privily\r\nand the contrary openly; and of young folk, for their counselling\r\nis not ripe. Then, in examining his counsel, he must truly tell his\r\ntale; he must consider whether the thing he proposes to do be\r\nreasonable, within his power, and acceptable to the more part\r\nand the better part of his counsellors; he must look at the things\r\nthat may follow from that counselling, choosing the best and\r\nwaiving all besides; he must consider the root whence the\r\nmatter of his counsel is engendered, what  fruits it may bear,\r\nand from what causes they be sprung.  And having thus\r\nexamined his counsel and approved it by many wise folk and\r\nold, he shall consider if he may perform it and make of it a good\r\nend; if he be in doubt, he shall choose rather to suffer than to\r\nbegin; but otherwise he shall prosecute his resolution steadfastly\r\ntill the enterprise be at an end. As to changing his counsel, a\r\nman may do so without reproach, if the cause cease, or when a\r\nnew case betides, or if he find that by error or otherwise harm\r\nor damage may result, or if his counsel be dishonest or come of\r\ndishonest cause, or if it be impossible or may not properly be\r\nkept; and he must take it for a general rule, that every counsel\r\nwhich is affirmed so strongly, that it may not be changed for\r\nany condition that may betide, that counsel is wicked.\r\nMelib\u0153us, admitting that his wife had spoken well and suitably\r\nas to counsellors and counsel in general, prays her to tell him in\r\nespecial what she thinks of the counsellors whom they have\r\nchosen in their present need. Prudence replies that his counsel in\r\nthis case could not properly be called a counselling, but a\r\nmovement of folly; and points out that he has erred in sundry\r\nwise against the rules which he had just laid down. Granting\r\nthat he has erred, Melib\u0153us says that he is all ready to change\r\nhis counsel right as she will devise; for, as the proverb runs, to\r\ndo sin is human, but to persevere long in sin is work of the\r\nDevil. Prudence then minutely recites, analyses, and criticises\r\nthe counsel given to her husband in the assembly of his friends.\r\nShe commends the advice of the physicians and surgeons, and\r\nurges that they should be well rewarded for their noble speech\r\nand their services in healing Sophia; and she asks Melib\u0153us\r\nhow he understands their proposition that one contrary must be\r\ncured by another contrary. Melib\u0153us answers, that he should\r\ndo vengeance on his enemies, who had done him wrong.\r\nPrudence, however, insists that vengeance is not the contrary of\r\nvengeance, nor wrong of wrong, but the like; and that\r\nwickedness should be healed by goodness, discord by accord,\r\nwar by peace.  She proceeds to deal with the counsel of the\r\nlawyers and wise folk that advised Melib\u0153us to take prudent\r\nmeasures for the security of his body and of his house. First, she\r\nwould have her husband pray for the protection and aid of\r\nChrist; then commit the keeping of his person to his true\r\nfriends; then suspect and avoid all strange folk, and liars, and\r\nsuch people as she had already warned him against; then beware\r\nof presuming on his strength, or the weakness of his adversary,\r\nand neglecting to guard his person \u2014 for every wise man\r\ndreadeth his enemy; then he should evermore be on the watch\r\nagainst ambush and all espial, even in what seems a place of\r\nsafety; though he should not be so cowardly, as to fear where is\r\nno cause for dread; yet he should dread to be poisoned, and\r\ntherefore shun scorners, and fly their words as venom.  As to\r\nthe fortification of his house, she points out that towers and\r\ngreat edifices are costly and laborious, yet useless unless\r\ndefended by true friends that be old and wise; and the greatest\r\nand strongest garrison that a rich man may have, as well to keep\r\nhis person as his goods, is, that he be beloved by his subjects\r\nand by his neighbours. Warmly approving the counsel that in all\r\nthis business Melib\u0153us should proceed with great diligence and\r\ndeliberation, Prudence goes on to examine the advice given by\r\nhis neighbours that do him reverence without love, his old\r\nenemies reconciled, his flatterers that counselled him certain\r\nthings privily and openly counselled him the contrary, and the\r\nyoung folk that counselled him to avenge himself and make war\r\nat once.  She reminds him that he stands alone against three\r\npowerful enemies, whose kindred are numerous and close,\r\nwhile his are fewer and remote in relationship; that only the\r\njudge who has jurisdiction in a case may take sudden vengeance\r\non any man; that her husband\u2019s power does not accord with his\r\ndesire; and that, if he did take vengeance, it would only breed\r\nfresh wrongs and contests. As to the causes of the wrong done\r\nto him, she holds that God, the causer of all things, has\r\npermitted him to suffer because he has drunk so much honey\r\n<4> of sweet temporal riches, and delights, and honours of this\r\nworld, that he is drunken, and has forgotten Jesus Christ his\r\nSaviour; the three enemies of mankind, the flesh, the fiend, and\r\nthe world, have entered his heart by the windows of his body,\r\nand wounded his soul in five places \u2014 that is to say, the deadly\r\nsins that have entered into his heart by the five senses; and in\r\nthe same manner Christ has suffered his three enemies to enter\r\nhis house by the windows, and wound his daughter in the five\r\nplaces before specified. Melib\u0153us demurs, that if his wife\u2019s\r\nobjections prevailed, vengeance would never be taken, and\r\nthence great mischiefs would arise; but Prudence replies that the\r\ntaking of vengeance lies with the judges, to whom the private\r\nindividual must have recourse.  Melib\u0153us declares that such\r\nvengeance does not please him, and that, as Fortune has\r\nnourished and helped him from his childhood, he will now assay\r\nher, trusting, with God\u2019s help, that she will aid him to avenge his\r\nshame. Prudence warns him against trusting to Fortune, all the\r\nless because she has hitherto favoured him, for just on that\r\naccount she is the more likely to fail him; and she calls on him\r\nto leave his vengeance with the Sovereign Judge, that avengeth\r\nall villainies and wrongs. Melib\u0153us argues that if he refrains\r\nfrom taking vengeance he will invite his enemies to do him\r\nfurther wrong, and he will be put and held over low; but\r\nPrudence contends that such a result can be brought about only\r\nby the neglect of the judges, not by the patience of the\r\nindividual.  Supposing that he had leave to avenge himself, she\r\nrepeats that he is not strong enough, and quotes the common\r\nsaw, that it is madness for a man to strive with a stronger than\r\nhimself, peril to strive with one of equal strength, and folly to\r\nstrive with a weaker. But, considering his own defaults and\r\ndemerits, \u2014 remembering the patience of Christ and the\r\nundeserved tribulations of the saints, the brevity of this life with\r\nall its trouble and sorrow, the discredit thrown on the wisdom\r\nand training of  a man who cannot bear wrong with patience \u2014\r\nhe should refrain wholly from taking vengeance. Melib\u0153us\r\nsubmits that he is not at all a perfect man, and his heart will\r\nnever be at peace until he is avenged; and that as his enemies\r\ndisregarded the peril when they attacked him, so he might,\r\nwithout reproach, incur some peril in attacking them in return,\r\neven though he did a great excess in avenging one wrong by\r\nanother. Prudence strongly deprecates all outrage or excess; but\r\nMelib\u0153us insists that he cannot see that it might greatly harm\r\nhim though he took a vengeance, for he is richer and mightier\r\nthan his enemies, and all things obey money. Prudence\r\nthereupon launches into a long dissertation on the advantages of\r\nriches, the evils of poverty, the means by which wealth should\r\nbe gathered, and the manner in which it should be used; and\r\nconcludes by counselling her husband not to move war and\r\nbattle through trust in his riches, for they suffice not to maintain\r\nwar, the battle is not always to the strong or the numerous, and\r\nthe perils of conflict are many. Melib\u0153us then curtly asks her\r\nfor her counsel how he shall do in this need; and she answers\r\nthat certainly she counsels him to agree with his adversaries and\r\nhave peace with them. Melib\u0153us on this cries out that plainly\r\nshe loves not his honour or his worship, in counselling him to\r\ngo and humble himself before his enemies, crying mercy to them\r\nthat, having done him so grievous wrong, ask him not to be\r\nreconciled. Then Prudence, making semblance of wrath, retorts\r\nthat she loves his honour and profit as she loves her own, and\r\never has done; she cites the Scriptures in support of her counsel\r\nto seek peace; and says she will leave him to his own courses,\r\nfor she knows well he is so stubborn, that he will do nothing for\r\nher. Melib\u0153us then relents; admits that he is angry and cannot\r\njudge aright; and puts himself wholly in her hands, promising to\r\ndo just as she desires, and admitting that he is the more held to\r\nlove and praise her, if she reproves him of his folly)\r\n\r\nThen Dame Prudence discovered all her counsel and her will\r\nunto him, and said: \u201cI counsel you,\u201d quoth she, \u201cabove all\r\nthings, that ye make peace between God and you, and be\r\nreconciled unto Him and to his grace; for, as I have said to you\r\nherebefore, God hath suffered you to have this tribulation and\r\ndisease [distress, trouble] for your sins; and if ye do as I say\r\nyou, God will send your adversaries unto you, and make them\r\nfall at your feet, ready to do your will and your commandment.\r\nFor Solomon saith, \u2018When the condition of man is pleasant and\r\nliking to God, he changeth the hearts of the man\u2019s adversaries,\r\nand constraineth them to beseech him of peace of grace.\u2019  And I\r\npray you let me speak with your adversaries in privy place, for\r\nthey shall not know it is by your will or your assent; and then,\r\nwhen I know their will and their intent, I may counsel you the\r\nmore surely.\u201d \u2018\u201cDame,\u201d quoth Melib\u0153us, \u2018\u201cdo your will and\r\nyour liking, for I put me wholly in your disposition and\r\nordinance.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen Dame Prudence, when she saw the goodwill of her\r\nhusband, deliberated and took advice in herself, thinking how\r\nshe might bring this need [affair, emergency] unto a good end.\r\nAnd when she saw her time, she sent for these adversaries to\r\ncome into her into a privy place, and showed wisely into them\r\nthe great goods that come of peace, and the great harms and\r\nperils that be in war; and said to them, in goodly manner, how\r\nthat they ought have great repentance of the injuries and\r\nwrongs that they had done to Melib\u0153us her Lord, and unto her\r\nand her daughter.  And when they heard the goodly words of\r\nDame Prudence, then they were surprised and ravished, and had\r\nso great joy of her, that wonder was to tell.  \u201cAh lady!\u201d quoth\r\nthey, \u201cye have showed unto us the blessing of sweetness, after\r\nthe saying of David the prophet; for the reconciling which we\r\nbe not worthy to have in no manner, but we ought require it\r\nwith great contrition and humility, ye of your great goodness\r\nhave presented unto us. Now see we well, that the science and\r\nconning [knowledge] of Solomon is full true; for he saith, that\r\nsweet words multiply and increase friends, and make shrews\r\n[the ill-natured or angry] to be debonair [gentle, courteous] and\r\nmeek.  Certes we put our deed, and all our matter and cause, all\r\nwholly in your goodwill, and be ready to obey unto the speech\r\nand commandment of my lord Melib\u0153us. And therefore, dear\r\nand benign lady, we pray you and beseech you as meekly as we\r\ncan and may, that it like unto your great goodness to fulfil in\r\ndeed your goodly words. For we consider and acknowledge\r\nthat we have offended and grieved my lord Melib\u0153us out of\r\nmeasure, so far forth that we be not of power to make him\r\namends; and therefore we oblige and bind us and our friends to\r\ndo all his will and his commandment. But peradventure he hath\r\nsuch heaviness and such wrath to usward, [towards us] because\r\nof our offence, that he will enjoin us such a pain [penalty] as we\r\nmay not bear nor sustain; and therefore, noble lady, we beseech\r\nto your womanly pity to take such advisement [consideration]\r\nin this need, that we, nor our friends, be not disinherited and\r\ndestroyed through our folly.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cCertes,\u201d quoth Prudence, \u201cit is an hard thing, and right\r\nperilous, that a man put him all utterly in the arbitration and\r\njudgement and in the might and power of his enemy. For\r\nSolomon saith, \u2018Believe me, and give credence to that that I\r\nshall say: to thy son, to thy wife, to thy friend, nor to thy\r\nbrother, give thou never might nor mastery over thy body, while\r\nthou livest.\u2019  Now, since he defendeth [forbiddeth] that a man\r\nshould not give to his brother, nor to his friend, the might of his\r\nbody, by a stronger reason he defendeth and forbiddeth a man\r\nto give himself to his enemy. And nevertheless, I counsel you\r\nthat ye mistrust not my lord: for I wot well and know verily,\r\nthat he is debonair and meek, large, courteous and nothing\r\ndesirous nor envious of good nor riches: for there is nothing in\r\nthis world that he desireth save only worship and honour.\r\nFurthermore I know well, and am right sure, that he shall\r\nnothing do in this need without counsel of me; and I shall so\r\nwork in this case, that by the grace of our Lord God ye shall be\r\nreconciled unto us.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen said they with one voice, \u201cWorshipful lady, we put us\r\nand our goods all fully in your will and disposition, and be ready\r\nto come, what day that it like unto your nobleness to limit us or\r\nassign us, for to make our obligation and bond, as strong as it\r\nliketh unto your goodness, that we may fulfil the will of you and\r\nof my lord Melib\u0153us.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen Dame Prudence had heard the answer of these men, she\r\nbade them go again privily, and she returned to her lord\r\nMelib\u0153us, and told him how she found his adversaries full\r\nrepentant, acknowledging full lowly their sins and trespasses,\r\nand how they were ready to suffer all pain, requiring and\r\npraying him of mercy and pity. Then said Melib\u0153us, \u201cHe is well\r\nworthy to have pardon and forgiveness of his sin, that excuseth\r\nnot his sin, but acknowledgeth, and repenteth him, asking\r\nindulgence.  For Seneca saith, \u2018There is the remission and\r\nforgiveness, where the confession is; for confession is neighbour\r\nto innocence.\u2019 And therefore I assent and confirm me to have\r\npeace, but it is good that we do naught without the assent and\r\nwill of our friends.\u201d Then was Prudence right glad and joyful,\r\nand said, \u201cCertes, Sir, ye be well and goodly advised; for right\r\nas by the counsel, assent, and help of your friends ye have been\r\nstirred to avenge you and make war, right so without their\r\ncounsel shall ye not accord you, nor have peace with your\r\nadversaries. For the law saith, \u2018There is nothing so good by way\r\nof kind, [nature] as a thing to be unbound by him that it was\r\nbound.\u2019\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd then Dame Prudence, without delay or tarrying, sent anon\r\nher messengers for their kin and for their old friends, which\r\nwere true and wise; and told them by order, in the presence of\r\nMelib\u0153us, all this matter, as it is above expressed and declared;\r\nand prayed them that they would give their advice and counsel\r\nwhat were best to do in this need. And when Melib\u0153us\u2019 friends\r\nhad taken their advice and deliberation of the foresaid matter,\r\nand had examined it by great business and great diligence, they\r\ngave full counsel for to have peace and rest, and that Melib\u0153us\r\nshould with good heart receive his adversaries to forgiveness\r\nand mercy. And when Dame Prudence had heard the assent of\r\nher lord Melib\u0153us, and the counsel of his friends, accord with\r\nher will and her intention, she was wondrous glad in her heart,\r\nand said: \u201cThere is an old proverb that saith, \u2018The goodness that\r\nthou mayest do this day, do it, and abide not nor delay it not till\r\nto-morrow:\u2019 and therefore I counsel you that ye send your\r\nmessengers, such as be discreet and wise, unto your adversaries,\r\ntelling them on your behalf, that if they will treat of peace and\r\nof accord, that they shape [prepare] them, without delay or\r\ntarrying, to come unto us.\u201d Which thing performed was indeed.\r\nAnd when these trespassers and repenting folk of their follies,\r\nthat is to say, the adversaries of Melib\u0153us, had heard what\r\nthese messengers said unto them, they were right glad and\r\njoyful, and answered full meekly and benignly, yielding graces\r\nand thanks to their lord Melib\u0153us, and to all his company; and\r\nshaped them without delay to go with the messengers, and obey\r\nto the commandment of their lord Melib\u0153us.  And right anon\r\nthey took their way to the court of Melib\u0153us, and took with\r\nthem some of their true friends, to make faith for them, and for\r\nto be their borrows [sureties].\r\n\r\nAnd when they were come to the presence of Melib\u0153us, he\r\nsaid to them these words; \u201cIt stands thus,\u201d quoth Melib\u0153us,\r\n\u201cand sooth it is, that ye causeless, and without skill and reason,\r\nhave done great injuries and wrongs to me, and to my wife\r\nPrudence, and to my daughter also; for ye have entered into my\r\nhouse by violence, and have done such outrage, that all men\r\nknow well that ye have deserved the death: and therefore will I\r\nknow and weet of you, whether ye will put the punishing and\r\nchastising, and the vengeance of this outrage, in the will of me\r\nand of my wife, or ye will not?\u201d Then the wisest of them three\r\nanswered for them all, and said; \u201cSir,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwe know well,\r\nthat we be I unworthy to come to the court of so great a lord\r\nand so worthy as ye be, for we have so greatly mistaken us, and\r\nhave offended and aguilt [incurred guilt] in such wise against\r\nyour high lordship, that truly we have deserved the death. But\r\nyet for the great goodness and debonairte [courtesy, gentleness]\r\nthat all the world witnesseth of your person, we submit us to\r\nthe excellence and benignity of your gracious lordship, and be\r\nready to obey to all your commandments, beseeching you, that\r\nof your  merciable [merciful] pity ye will consider our great\r\nrepentance and low submission, and grant us forgiveness of our\r\noutrageous trespass and offence; for well we know, that your\r\nliberal grace and mercy stretch them farther into goodness, than\r\ndo our outrageous guilt and trespass into wickedness; albeit that\r\ncursedly [wickedly] and damnably we have aguilt [incurred\r\nguilt] against your high lordship.\u201d Then Melib\u0153us took them\r\nup from the ground full benignly, and received their obligations\r\nand their bonds, by their oaths upon their pledges and borrows,\r\n[sureties] and assigned them a certain day to return unto his\r\ncourt for to receive and accept sentence and judgement, that\r\nMelib\u0153us would command to be done on them, by the causes\r\naforesaid; which things ordained, every man returned home to\r\nhis house.\r\n\r\nAnd when that Dame Prudence saw her time she freined\r\n[inquired] and asked her lord Melib\u0153us, what vengeance he\r\nthought to take of his adversaries. To which Melib\u0153us\r\nanswered, and said; \u201cCertes,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI think and purpose me\r\nfully to disinherit them of all that ever they have, and for to put\r\nthem in exile for evermore.\u201d \u201cCertes,\u201d quoth Dame Prudence,\r\n\u201cthis were a cruel sentence, and much against reason. For ye be\r\nrich enough, and have no need of other men\u2019s goods; and ye\r\nmight lightly [easily] in this wise get you a covetous name,\r\nwhich is a vicious thing, and ought to be eschewed of every\r\ngood man: for, after the saying of the Apostle, covetousness is\r\nroot of all harms. And therefore it were better for you to lose\r\nmuch good of your own, than for to take of their good in this\r\nmanner. For better it is to lose good with worship [honour],\r\nthan to win good with villainy and shame. And every man ought\r\nto do his diligence and his business to get him a good name.\r\nAnd yet [further] shall he not only busy him in keeping his good\r\nname, but he shall also enforce him alway to do some thing by\r\nwhich he may renew his good name; for it is written, that the\r\nold good los [reputation <5>] of a man is soon gone and\r\npassed, when it is not renewed.  And as touching that ye say,\r\nthat ye will exile your adversaries, that thinketh ye much against\r\nreason, and out of measure, [moderation] considered the power\r\nthat they have given you upon themselves. And it is written,\r\nthat he is worthy to lose his privilege, that misuseth the might\r\nand the power that is given him.  And I set case [if I assume] ye\r\nmight enjoin them that pain by right and by law (which I trow\r\nye may not do), I say, ye might not put it to execution\r\nperadventure, and then it were like to return to the war, as it\r\nwas before.  And therefore if ye will that men do you obeisance,\r\nye must deem [decide] more courteously, that is to say, ye must\r\ngive more easy sentences and judgements. For it is written, \u2018He\r\nthat most courteously commandeth, to him men most obey.\u2019\r\nAnd therefore I pray you, that in this necessity and in this need\r\nye cast you [endeavour, devise a way] to overcome your heart.\r\nFor Seneca saith, that he that overcometh his heart, overcometh\r\ntwice. And Tullius saith, \u2018There is nothing so commendable in a\r\ngreat lord, as when he is debonair and meek, and appeaseth him\r\nlightly [easily].\u2019 And I pray you, that ye will now forbear to do\r\nvengeance, in such a manner, that your good name may be kept\r\nand conserved, and that men may have cause and matter to\r\npraise you of pity and of mercy; and that ye have no cause to\r\nrepent you of thing that ye do. For Seneca saith, \u2018He\r\novercometh in an evil manner, that repenteth him of his victory.\u2019\r\nWherefore I pray you let mercy be in your heart, to the effect\r\nand intent that God Almighty have mercy upon you in his last\r\njudgement; for Saint James saith in his Epistle, \u2018Judgement\r\nwithout mercy shall be done to him, that hath no mercy of\r\nanother wight.\u2019\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen Melib\u0153us had heard the great skills [arguments, reasons]\r\nand reasons of Dame Prudence, and her wise information and\r\nteaching, his heart gan incline to the will of his wife, considering\r\nher true intent, he conformed him anon and assented fully to\r\nwork after her counsel, and thanked God, of whom proceedeth\r\nall goodness and all virtue, that him sent a wife of so great\r\ndiscretion. And when the day came that his adversaries should\r\nappear in his presence, he spake to them full goodly, and said in\r\nthis wise; \u201cAlbeit so, that of your pride and high presumption\r\nand folly, an of your negligence and unconning, [ignorance] ye\r\nhave misborne [misbehaved] you, and trespassed [done injury]\r\nunto me, yet forasmuch as I see and behold your great humility,\r\nand that ye be sorry and repentant of your guilts, it constraineth\r\nme to do you grace and mercy. Wherefore I receive you into my\r\ngrace, and forgive you utterly all the offences, injuries, and\r\nwrongs, that ye have done against me and mine, to this effect\r\nand to this end, that God of his endless mercy will at the time of\r\nour dying forgive us our guilts, that we have trespassed to him\r\nin this wretched world; for doubtless, if we be sorry and\r\nrepentant of the sins and guilts which we have trespassed in the\r\nsight of our Lord God, he is so free and so merciable [merciful],\r\nthat he will forgive us our guilts, and bring us to the bliss that\r\nnever hath end.\u201d Amen.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Melib\u0153us.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Tale of Melib\u0153us is literally translated from a French\r\nstory, or rather \u201ctreatise,\u201d in prose, entitled \u201cLe Livre de\r\nMelibee et de Dame Prudence,\u201d of which two manuscripts, both\r\ndating from the fifteenth century, are preserved in the British\r\nMuseum. Tyrwhitt, justly enough, says of it that it is indeed, as\r\nChaucer called it in the prologue, \u201c\u2018a moral tale virtuous,\u2019 and\r\nwas probably much esteemed in its time; but, in this age of\r\nlevity, I doubt some readers will be apt to regret that he did not\r\nrather give us the remainder of Sir Thopas.\u201d  It has been\r\nremarked that in the earlier portion of the Tale, as it left the\r\nhand of the poet, a number of blank verses were intermixed;\r\nthough this peculiarity of style, noticeable in any case only in\r\nthe first 150 or 200 lines, has necessarily all but disappeared by\r\nthe changes of spelling made in the modern editions. The\r\nEditor\u2019s purpose being to present to the public not \u201cThe\r\nCanterbury Tales\u201d merely, but \u201cThe Poems of Chaucer,\u201d so far\r\nas may be consistent with the limits of this volume, he has\r\ncondensed the long reasonings and learned quotations of Dame\r\nPrudence into a mere outline, connecting those portions of the\r\nTale wherein lies so much of story as it actually possesses, and\r\nthe general reader will probably not regret the sacrifice, made in\r\nthe view of retaining so far as possible the completeness of the\r\nTales, while lessening the intrusion of prose into a volume or\r\npoems.  The good wife of Melib\u0153us literally overflows with\r\nquotations from David, Solomon, Jesus the Son of Sirach, the\r\nApostles, Ovid, Cicero, Seneca, Cassiodorus, Cato, Petrus\r\nAlphonsus \u2014 the converted Spanish Jew, of the twelfth century,\r\nwho wrote the \u201cDisciplina Clericalis\u201d  \u2014 and other authorities;\r\nand in some passages, especially where husband and wife debate\r\nthe merits or demerits of women, and where Prudence dilates\r\non the evils of poverty, Chaucer only reproduces much that had\r\nbeen said already in the Tales that preceded \u2014 such as the\r\nMerchant\u2019s and the Man of Law\u2019s.\r\n\r\n2. The lines which follow are a close translation of the original\r\nLatin, which reads:\r\n     \u201cQuis matrem, nisi mentis inops, in funere nati\r\n      Flere vetet? non hoc illa monenda loco.\r\n      Cum dederit lacrymas, animumque expleverit aegrum,\r\n      Ille dolor verbis emoderandus erit.\u201d\r\nOvid, \u201cRemedia Amoris,\u201d 127-131.\r\n\r\n3. See the conversation between Pluto and Proserpine, in the\r\nMerchant\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n4. \u201cThy name,\u201d she says, \u201cis Melib\u0153us; that is to say, a man\r\nthat drinketh honey.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. Los: reputation; from the past participle of the Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201chlisan\u201d to celebrate. Compare Latin, \u201claus.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE MONK\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE\r\n\r\nWHEN ended was my tale of Melibee,\r\nAnd of Prudence and her benignity,\r\nOur Hoste said, \u201cAs I am faithful man,\r\nAnd by the precious corpus Madrian,<1>\r\nI had lever* than a barrel of ale,                               *rather\r\nThat goode lefe* my wife had heard this tale;                      *dear\r\nFor she is no thing of such patience\r\nAs was this Melib\u0153us\u2019 wife Prudence.\r\nBy Godde\u2019s bones! when I beat my knaves\r\nShe bringeth me the greate clubbed staves,\r\nAnd crieth, \u2018Slay the dogges every one,\r\nAnd break of them both back and ev\u2019ry bone.\u2019\r\nAnd if that any neighebour of mine\r\nWill not in church unto my wife incline,\r\nOr be so hardy to her to trespace,*                              *offend\r\nWhen she comes home she rampeth* in my face,                    *springs\r\nAnd crieth, \u2018False coward, wreak* thy wife                       *avenge\r\nBy corpus Domini, I will have thy knife,\r\nAnd thou shalt have my distaff, and go spin.\u2019\r\nFrom day till night right thus she will begin.\r\n \u2018Alas!\u2019 she saith, \u2018that ever I was shape*                    *destined\r\nTo wed a milksop, or a coward ape,\r\nThat will be overlad* with every wight!                      *imposed on\r\nThou darest not stand by thy wife\u2019s right.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cThis is my life, *but if* that I will fight;                    *unless\r\nAnd out at door anon I must me dight,*                    *betake myself\r\nOr elles I am lost, but if that I\r\nBe, like a wilde lion, fool-hardy.\r\nI wot well she will do* me slay some day                           *make\r\nSome neighebour and thenne *go my way;*                 *take to flight*\r\nFor I am perilous with knife in hand,\r\nAlbeit that I dare not her withstand;\r\nFor she is big in armes, by my faith!\r\nThat shall he find, that her misdoth or saith. <2>\r\nBut let us pass away from this mattere.\r\nMy lord the Monk,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbe merry of cheer,\r\nFor ye shall tell a tale truely.\r\nLo, Rochester stands here faste by.\r\nRide forth, mine owen lord, break not our game.\r\nBut by my troth I cannot tell your name;\r\nWhether shall I call you my lord Dan John,\r\nOr Dan Thomas, or elles Dan Albon?\r\nOf what house be ye, by your father\u2019s kin?\r\nI vow to God, thou hast a full fair skin;\r\nIt is a gentle pasture where thou go\u2019st;\r\nThou art not like a penant* or a ghost.                        *penitent\r\nUpon my faith thou art some officer,\r\nSome worthy sexton, or some cellarer.\r\nFor by my father\u2019s soul, *as to my dome,*              *in my judgement*\r\nThou art a master when thou art at home;\r\nNo poore cloisterer, nor no novice,\r\nBut a governor, both wily and wise,\r\nAnd therewithal, of brawnes* and of bones,                       *sinews\r\nA right well-faring person for the nonce.\r\nI pray to God give him confusion\r\nThat first thee brought into religion.\r\nThou would\u2019st have been a treade-fowl* aright;                     *cock\r\nHadst thou as greate leave, as thou hast might,\r\nTo perform all thy lust in engendrure,*          *generation, begettting\r\nThou hadst begotten many a creature.\r\nAlas! why wearest thou so wide a cope? <3>\r\nGod give me sorrow, but, an* I were pope,                            *if\r\nNot only thou, but every mighty man,\r\nThough he were shorn full high upon his pan,* <4>                 *crown\r\nShould have a wife; for all this world is lorn;*         *undone, ruined\r\nReligion hath ta\u2019en up all the corn\r\nOf treading, and we borel* men be shrimps:                          *lay\r\nOf feeble trees there come wretched imps.*                   *shoots <5>\r\nThis maketh that our heires be so slender\r\nAnd feeble, that they may not well engender.\r\nThis maketh that our wives will assay\r\nReligious folk, for they may better pay\r\nOf Venus\u2019 payementes than may we:\r\nGod wot, no lusheburghes <6> paye ye.\r\nBut be not wroth, my lord, though that I play;\r\nFull oft in game a sooth have I heard say.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis worthy Monk took all in patience,\r\nAnd said, \u201cI will do all my diligence,\r\nAs far as *souneth unto honesty,*             *agrees with good manners*\r\nTo telle you a tale, or two or three.\r\nAnd if you list to hearken hitherward,\r\nI will you say the life of Saint Edward;\r\nOr elles first tragedies I will tell,\r\nOf which I have an hundred in my cell.\r\nTragedy *is to say* a certain story,                             *means*\r\nAs olde bookes maken us memory,\r\nOf him that stood in great prosperity,\r\nAnd is y-fallen out of high degree\r\nIn misery, and endeth wretchedly.\r\nAnd they be versified commonly\r\nOf six feet, which men call hexametron;\r\nIn prose eke* be indited many a one,                               *also\r\nAnd eke in metre, in many a sundry wise.\r\nLo, this declaring ought enough suffice.\r\nNow hearken, if ye like for to hear.\r\nBut first I you beseech in this mattere,\r\nThough I by order telle not these things,\r\nBe it of popes, emperors, or kings,\r\n*After their ages,* as men written find,        *in chronological order*\r\nBut tell them some before and some behind,\r\nAs it now cometh to my remembrance,\r\nHave me excused of mine ignorance.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to The Monk\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Corpus Madrian: the body of St. Maternus, of Treves.\r\n\r\n2. That her misdoth or saith: that does or says any thing to\r\noffend her.\r\n\r\n3. Cope:  An ecclesiastcal vestment covering all the body like a\r\ncloak.\r\n\r\n4. Though he were shorn full high upon his pan: though he were\r\ntonsured, as the clergy are.\r\n\r\n5. Imps: shoots, branches; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cimpian,\u201d\r\nGerman, \u201cimpfen,\u201d to implant, ingraft. The word is now used in\r\na very restricted sense, to signify the progeny, children, of the\r\ndevil.\r\n\r\n6. Lusheburghes: base or counterfeit coins; so called because\r\nstruck at Luxemburg.  A great importation of them took place\r\nduring the reigns of the earlier Edwards, and they caused much\r\nannoyance and complaint, till in 1351 it was declared treason to\r\nbring them into the country.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nI will bewail, in manner of tragedy,\r\nThe harm of them that stood in high degree,\r\nAnd felle so, that there was no remedy\r\nTo bring them out of their adversity.\r\nFor, certain, when that Fortune list to flee,\r\nThere may no man the course of her wheel hold:\r\nLet no man trust in blind prosperity;\r\nBeware by these examples true and old.\r\n\r\nAt LUCIFER, though he an angel were,\r\nAnd not a man, at him I will begin.\r\nFor though Fortune may no angel dere,*                             *hurt\r\nFrom high degree yet fell he for his sin\r\nDown into hell, where as he yet is in.\r\nO Lucifer! brightest of angels all,\r\nNow art thou Satanas, that may\u2019st not twin*                      *depart\r\nOut of the misery in which thou art fall.\r\n\r\nLo ADAM, in the field of Damascene <2>\r\nWith Godde\u2019s owen finger wrought was he,\r\nAnd not begotten of man\u2019s sperm unclean;\r\nAnd welt* all Paradise saving one tree:                       *commanded\r\nHad never worldly man so high degree\r\nAs Adam, till he for misgovernance*                        *misbehaviour\r\nWas driven out of his prosperity\r\nTo labour, and to hell, and to mischance.\r\n\r\nLo SAMPSON, which that was annunciate\r\nBy the angel, long ere his nativity; <3>\r\nAnd was to God Almighty consecrate,\r\nAnd stood in nobless while that he might see;\r\nWas never such another as was he,\r\nTo speak of strength, and thereto hardiness;*                   *courage\r\nBut to his wives told he his secre,\r\nThrough which he slew himself for wretchedness.\r\n\r\nSampson, this noble and mighty champion,\r\nWithoute weapon, save his handes tway,\r\nHe slew and all to-rente* the lion,                      *tore to pieces\r\nToward his wedding walking by the way.\r\nHis false wife could him so please, and pray,\r\nTill she his counsel knew; and she, untrue,\r\nUnto his foes his counsel gan bewray,\r\nAnd him forsook, and took another new.\r\n\r\nThree hundred foxes Sampson took for ire,\r\nAnd all their tailes he together band,\r\nAnd set the foxes\u2019 tailes all on fire,\r\nFor he in every tail had knit a brand,\r\nAnd they burnt all the combs of that lend,\r\nAnd all their oliveres* and vines eke.                  *olive trees <4>\r\nA thousand men he slew eke with his hand,\r\nAnd had no weapon but an ass\u2019s cheek.\r\n\r\nWhen they were slain, so thirsted him, that he\r\nWas *well-nigh lorn,* for which he gan to pray       *near to perishing*\r\nThat God would on his pain have some pity,\r\nAnd send him drink, or elles must he die;\r\nAnd of this ass\u2019s check, that was so dry,\r\nOut of a wang-tooth* sprang anon a well,                    *cheek-tooth\r\nOf which, he drank enough, shortly to say.\r\nThus help\u2019d him God, as Judicum <5>  can tell.\r\n\r\nBy very force, at Gaza, on a night,\r\nMaugre* the Philistines of that city,                       *in spite of\r\nThe gates of the town he hath up plight,*             *plucked, wrenched\r\nAnd on his back y-carried them hath he\r\nHigh on an hill, where as men might them see.\r\nO noble mighty Sampson, lefe* and dear,                           *loved\r\nHadst thou not told to women thy secre,\r\nIn all this world there had not been thy peer.\r\n\r\nThis Sampson never cider drank nor wine,\r\nNor on his head came razor none nor shear,\r\nBy precept of the messenger divine;\r\nFor all his strengthes in his haires were;\r\nAnd fully twenty winters, year by year,\r\nHe had of Israel the governance;\r\nBut soone shall he weepe many a tear,\r\nFor women shall him bringe to mischance.\r\n\r\nUnto his leman* Dalila he told,                                *mistress\r\nThat in his haires all his strengthe lay;\r\nAnd falsely to his foemen she him sold,\r\nAnd sleeping in her barme* upon a day                               *lap\r\nShe made to clip or shear his hair away,\r\nAnd made his foemen all his craft espien.\r\nAnd when they founde him in this array,\r\nThey bound him fast, and put out both his eyen.\r\n\r\nBut, ere his hair was clipped or y-shave,\r\nThere was no bond with which men might him bind;\r\nBut now is he in prison in a cave,\r\nWhere as they made him at the querne* grind.                   *mill <6>\r\nO noble Sampson, strongest of mankind!\r\nO whilom judge in glory and richess!\r\nNow may\u2019st thou weepe with thine eyen blind,\r\nSince thou from weal art fall\u2019n to wretchedness.\r\n\r\nTh\u2019end of this caitiff* was as I shall say;                *wretched man\r\nHis foemen made a feast upon a day,\r\nAnd made him as their fool before them play;\r\nAnd this was in a temple of great array.\r\nBut at the last he made a foul affray,\r\nFor he two pillars shook, and made them fall,\r\nAnd down fell temple and all, and there it lay,\r\nAnd slew himself and eke his foemen all;\r\n\r\nThis is to say, the princes every one;\r\nAnd eke three thousand bodies were there slain\r\nWith falling of the great temple of stone.\r\nOf Sampson now will I no more sayn;\r\nBeware by this example old and plain,\r\nThat no man tell his counsel to his wife\r\nOf such thing as he would *have secret fain,*        *wish to be secret*\r\nIf that it touch his limbes or his life.\r\n\r\nOf HERCULES the sov\u2019reign conquerour\r\nSinge his workes\u2019 land and high renown;\r\nFor in his time of strength he bare the flow\u2019r.\r\nHe slew and reft the skin of the lion\r\nHe of the Centaurs laid the boast adown;\r\nHe Harpies <7> slew, the cruel birdes fell;\r\nHe golden apples reft from the dragon\r\nHe drew out Cerberus the hound of hell.\r\n\r\nHe slew the cruel tyrant Busirus. <8>\r\nAnd made his horse to fret* him flesh and bone;                  *devour\r\nHe slew the fiery serpent venomous;\r\nOf Achelous\u2019 two hornes brake he one.\r\nAnd he slew Cacus in a cave of stone;\r\nHe slew the giant Antaeus the strong;\r\nHe slew the grisly boar, and that anon;\r\nAnd bare the heav\u2019n upon his necke long. <9>\r\n\r\nWas never wight, since that the world began,\r\nThat slew so many monsters as did he;\r\nThroughout the wide world his name ran,\r\nWhat for his strength, and for his high bounte;\r\nAnd every realme went he for to see;\r\nHe was so strong that no man might him let;*                  *withstand\r\nAt both the worlde\u2019s ends, as saith Trophee, <10>\r\nInstead of boundes he a pillar set.\r\n\r\nA leman had this noble champion,\r\nThat highte Dejanira, fresh as May;\r\nAnd, as these clerkes make mention,\r\nShe hath him sent a shirte fresh and gay;\r\nAlas! this shirt, alas and well-away!\r\nEnvenomed was subtilly withal,\r\nThat ere that he had worn it half a day,\r\nIt made his flesh all from his bones fall.\r\n\r\nBut natheless some clerkes her excuse\r\nBy one, that highte Nessus, that it maked;\r\nBe as he may, I will not her accuse;\r\nBut on his back this shirt he wore all naked,\r\nTill that his flesh was for the venom blaked.*                *blackened\r\nAnd when he saw none other remedy,\r\nIn hote coals he hath himselfe raked,\r\nFor with no venom deigned he to die.\r\n\r\nThus sterf* this worthy mighty Hercules.                           *died\r\nLo, who may trust on Fortune *any throw?*                 *for a moment*\r\nFor him that followeth all this world of pres,*               *near <11>\r\nEre he be ware, is often laid full low;\r\nFull wise is he that can himselfe know.\r\nBeware, for when that Fortune list to glose\r\nThen waiteth she her man to overthrow,\r\nBy such a way as he would least suppose.\r\n\r\nThe mighty throne, the precious treasor,\r\nThe glorious sceptre, and royal majesty,\r\nThat had the king NABUCHODONOSOR\r\nWith tongue unnethes* may described be.                        *scarcely\r\nHe twice won Jerusalem the city,\r\nThe vessels of the temple he with him lad;*                   *took away\r\nAt Babylone was his sov\u2019reign see,*                                *seat\r\nIn which his glory and delight he had.\r\n\r\nThe fairest children of the blood royal\r\nOf Israel he *did do geld* anon,                *caused to be castrated*\r\nAnd maked each of them to be his thrall.*                         *slave\r\nAmonges others Daniel was one,\r\nThat was the wisest child of every one;\r\nFor he the dreames of the king expounded,\r\nWhere in Chaldaea clerkes was there none\r\nThat wiste to what fine* his dreames sounded.                       *end\r\n\r\nThis proude king let make a statue of gold\r\nSixty cubites long, and seven in bread\u2019,\r\nTo which image hathe young and old\r\nCommanded he to lout,* and have in dread,                   *bow down to\r\nOr in a furnace, full of flames red,\r\nHe should be burnt that woulde not obey:\r\nBut never would assente to that deed\r\nDaniel, nor his younge fellows tway.\r\n\r\nThis king of kinges proud was and elate;*                         *lofty\r\nHe ween\u2019d* that God, that sits in majesty,                      *thought\r\nMighte him not bereave of his estate;\r\nBut suddenly he lost his dignity,\r\nAnd like a beast he seemed for to be,\r\nAnd ate hay as an ox, and lay thereout\r\nIn rain, with wilde beastes walked he,\r\nTill certain time was y-come about.\r\n\r\nAnd like an eagle\u2019s feathers wax\u2019d his hairs,\r\nHis nailes like a birde\u2019s clawes were,\r\nTill God released him at certain years,\r\nAnd gave him wit; and then with many a tear\r\nHe thanked God, and ever his life in fear\r\nWas he to do amiss, or more trespace:\r\nAnd till that time he laid was on his bier,\r\nHe knew that God was full of might and grace.\r\n\r\nHis sone, which that highte BALTHASAR,\r\nThat *held the regne* after his father\u2019s day,    *possessed the kingdom*\r\nHe by his father coulde not beware,\r\nFor proud he was of heart and of array;\r\nAnd eke an idolaster was he aye.\r\nHis high estate assured* him in pride;                        *confirmed\r\nBut Fortune cast him down, and there he lay,\r\nAnd suddenly his regne gan divide.\r\n\r\nA feast he made unto his lordes all\r\nUpon a time, and made them blithe be,\r\nAnd then his officeres gan he call;\r\n\u201cGo, bringe forth the vessels,\u201d saide he,\r\n\u201cWhich that my father in his prosperity\r\nOut of the temple of Jerusalem reft,\r\nAnd to our highe goddes thanks we\r\nOf honour, that our elders* with us left.\u201d                  *forefathers\r\n\r\nHis wife, his lordes, and his concubines\r\nAye dranke, while their appetites did last,\r\nOut of these noble vessels sundry wines.\r\nAnd on a wall this king his eyen cast,\r\nAnd saw an hand, armless, that wrote full fast;\r\nFor fear of which he quaked, and sighed sore.\r\nThis hand, that Balthasar so sore aghast,*                     *dismayed\r\nWrote Mane, tekel, phares, and no more.\r\n\r\nIn all that land magician was there none\r\nThat could expounde what this letter meant.\r\nBut Daniel expounded it anon,\r\nAnd said, \u201cO King, God to thy father lent\r\nGlory and honour, regne, treasure, rent;*                       *revenue\r\nAnd he was proud, and nothing God he drad;*                     *dreaded\r\nAnd therefore God great wreche* upon him sent,                *vengeance\r\nAnd him bereft the regne that he had.\r\n\r\n\u201cHe was cast out of manne\u2019s company;\r\nWith asses was his habitation\r\nAnd ate hay, as a beast, in wet and dry,\r\nTill that he knew by grace and by reason\r\nThat God of heaven hath domination\r\nO\u2019er every regne, and every creature;\r\nAnd then had God of him compassion,\r\nAnd him restor\u2019d his regne and his figure.\r\n\r\n\u201cEke thou, that art his son, art proud also,\r\nAnd knowest all these thinges verily;\r\nAnd art rebel to God, and art his foe.\r\nThou drankest of his vessels boldely;\r\nThy wife eke, and thy wenches, sinfully\r\nDrank of the same vessels sundry wines,\r\nAnd heried* false goddes cursedly;                              *praised\r\nTherefore *to thee y-shapen full great pine is.*    *great punishment is\r\n                                                      prepared for thee*\r\n\u201cThis hand was sent from God, that on the wall\r\nWrote Mane, tekel, phares, truste me;\r\nThy reign is done; thou weighest naught at all;\r\nDivided is thy regne, and it shall be\r\nTo Medes and to Persians giv\u2019n,\u201d quoth he.\r\nAnd thilke same night this king was slaw*                         *slain\r\nAnd Darius occupied his degree,\r\nThough he thereto had neither right nor law.\r\n\r\nLordings, example hereby may ye take,\r\nHow that in lordship is no sickerness;*                        *security\r\nFor when that Fortune will a man forsake,\r\nShe bears away his regne and his richess,\r\nAnd eke his friendes bothe more and less,\r\nFor what man that hath friendes through fortune,\r\nMishap will make them enemies, I guess;\r\nThis proverb is full sooth, and full commune.\r\n\r\nZENOBIA, of Palmyrie the queen, <12>\r\nAs write Persians of her nobless,\r\nSo worthy was in armes, and so keen,\r\nThat no wight passed her in hardiness,\r\nNor in lineage, nor other gentleness.*                  *noble qualities\r\nOf the king\u2019s blood of Perse* is she descended;                  *Persia\r\nI say not that she hadde most fairness,\r\nBut of her shape she might not he amended.\r\n\r\nFrom her childhood I finde that she fled\r\nOffice of woman, and to woods she went,\r\nAnd many a wilde harte\u2019s blood she shed\r\nWith arrows broad that she against them sent;\r\nShe was so swift, that she anon them hent.*                      *caught\r\nAnd when that she was older, she would kill\r\nLions, leopards, and beares all to-rent,*                *torn to pieces\r\nAnd in her armes wield them at her will.\r\n\r\nShe durst the wilde beastes\u2019 dennes seek,\r\nAnd runnen in the mountains all the night,\r\nAnd sleep under a bush; and she could eke\r\nWrestle by very force and very might\r\nWith any young man, were he ne\u2019er so wight;*             *active, nimble\r\nThere mighte nothing in her armes stond.\r\nShe kept her maidenhood from every wight,\r\nTo no man deigned she for to be bond.\r\n\r\nBut at the last her friendes have her married\r\nTo Odenate, <13> a prince of that country;\r\nAll were it so, that she them longe tarried.\r\nAnd ye shall understande how that he\r\nHadde such fantasies as hadde she;\r\nBut natheless, when they were knit in fere,*                   *together\r\nThey liv\u2019d in joy, and in felicity,\r\nFor each of them had other lefe* and dear.                        *loved\r\n\r\nSave one thing, that she never would assent,\r\nBy no way, that he shoulde by her lie\r\nBut ones, for it was her plain intent\r\nTo have a child, the world to multiply;\r\nAnd all so soon as that she might espy\r\nThat she was not with childe by that deed,\r\nThen would she suffer him do his fantasy\r\nEftsoon,* and not but ones, *out of dread.*       *again *without doubt*\r\n\r\nAnd if she were with child at thilke* cast,                        *that\r\nNo more should he playe thilke game\r\nTill fully forty dayes were past;\r\nThen would she once suffer him do the same.\r\nAll* were this Odenatus wild or tame,                           *whether\r\nHe got no more of her; for thus she said,\r\nIt was to wives lechery and shame\r\nIn other case* if that men with them play\u2019d.              on other terms\r\n\r\nTwo sones, by this Odenate had she,\r\nThe which she kept in virtue and lettrure.*                    *learning\r\nBut now unto our tale turne we;\r\nI say, so worshipful a creature,\r\nAnd wise therewith, and large* with measure,**   *bountiful **moderation\r\nSo penible* in the war, and courteous eke,                    *laborious\r\nNor more labour might in war endure,\r\nWas none, though all this worlde men should seek.\r\n\r\nHer rich array it mighte not be told,\r\nAs well in vessel as in her clothing:\r\nShe was all clad in pierrie* and in gold,                     *jewellery\r\nAnd eke she *lefte not,* for no hunting,               *did not neglect*\r\nTo have of sundry tongues full knowing,\r\nWhen that she leisure had, and for t\u2019intend*                      *apply\r\nTo learne bookes was all her liking,\r\nHow she in virtue might her life dispend.\r\n\r\nAnd, shortly of this story for to treat,\r\nSo doughty was her husband and eke she,\r\nThat they conquered many regnes great\r\nIn th\u2019Orient, with many a fair city\r\nAppertinent unto the majesty\r\nOf Rome, and with strong hande held them fast,\r\nNor ever might their foemen do* them flee,                         *make\r\nAye while that Odenatus\u2019 dayes last\u2019.\r\n\r\nHer battles, whoso list them for to read,\r\nAgainst Sapor the king, <14> and other mo\u2019,\r\nAnd how that all this process fell in deed,\r\nWhy she conquer\u2019d, and what title thereto,\r\nAnd after of her mischief* and her woe,                      *misfortune\r\nHow that she was besieged and y-take,\r\nLet him unto my master Petrarch go,\r\nThat writes enough of this, I undertake.\r\n\r\nWhen Odenate was dead, she mightily\r\nThe regne held, and with her proper hand\r\nAgainst her foes she fought so cruelly,\r\nThat there n\u2019as* king nor prince in all that land,              *was not\r\nThat was not glad, if be that grace fand\r\nThat she would not upon his land warray;*                      *make war\r\nWith her they maden alliance by bond,\r\nTo be in peace, and let her ride and play.\r\n\r\nThe emperor of Rome, Claudius,\r\nNor, him before, the Roman Gallien,\r\nDurste never be so courageous,\r\nNor no Armenian, nor Egyptien,\r\nNor Syrian, nor no Arabien,\r\nWithin the fielde durste with her fight,\r\nLest that she would them with her handes slen,*                    *slay\r\nOr with her meinie* putte them to flight.                        *troops\r\n\r\nIn kinges\u2019 habit went her sones two,\r\nAs heires of their father\u2019s regnes all;\r\nAnd Heremanno and Timolao\r\nTheir names were, as Persians them call\r\nBut aye Fortune hath in her honey gall;\r\nThis mighty queene may no while endure;\r\nFortune out of her regne made her fall\r\nTo wretchedness and to misadventure.\r\n\r\nAurelian, when that the governance\r\nOf Rome came into his handes tway, <15>\r\nHe shope* upon this queen to do vengeance;                     *prepared\r\nAnd with his legions he took his way\r\nToward Zenobie, and, shortly for to say,\r\nHe made her flee, and at the last her hent,*                       *took\r\nAnd fetter\u2019d her, and eke her children tway,\r\nAnd won the land, and home to Rome he went.\r\n\r\nAmonges other thinges that he wan,\r\nHer car, that was with gold wrought and pierrie,*                *jewels\r\nThis greate Roman, this Aurelian\r\nHath with him led, for that men should it see.\r\nBefore in his triumphe walked she\r\nWith gilte chains upon her neck hanging;\r\nCrowned she was, as after* her degree,                     *according to\r\nAnd full of pierrie her clothing.\r\n\r\nAlas, Fortune! she that whilom was\r\nDreadful to kinges and to emperours,\r\nNow galeth* all the people on her, alas!                        *yelleth\r\nAnd she that *helmed was in starke stowres,*           *wore a helmet in\r\nAnd won by force townes strong and tow\u2019rs,            obstinate battles*\r\nShall on her head now wear a vitremite; <16>\r\nAnd she that bare the sceptre full of flow\u2019rs\r\nShall bear a distaff, *her cost for to quite.*     * to make her living*\r\n\r\nAlthough that NERO were so vicious\r\nAs any fiend that lies full low adown,\r\nYet he, as telleth us Suetonius,<17>\r\nThis wide world had in subjectioun,\r\nBoth East and West, South and Septentrioun.\r\nOf rubies, sapphires, and of pearles white\r\nWere all his clothes embroider\u2019d up and down,\r\nFor he in gemmes greatly gan delight.\r\n\r\nMore delicate, more pompous of array,\r\nMore proud, was never emperor than he;\r\nThat *ilke cloth* that he had worn one day,                  *same robe*\r\nAfter that time he would it never see;\r\nNettes of gold thread had he great plenty,\r\nTo fish in Tiber, when him list to play;\r\nHis lustes* were as law, in his degree,                       *pleasures\r\nFor Fortune as his friend would him obey.\r\n\r\nHe Rome burnt for his delicacy;*                               *pleasure\r\nThe senators he slew upon a day,\r\nTo heare how that men would weep and cry;\r\nAnd slew his brother, and by his sister lay.\r\nHis mother made he in piteous array;\r\nFor he her wombe slitte, to behold\r\nWhere he conceived was; so well-away!\r\nThat he so little of his mother told.*                           *valued\r\n\r\nNo tear out of his eyen for that sight\r\nCame; but he said, a fair woman was she.\r\nGreat wonder is, how that he could or might\r\nBe doomesman* of her deade beauty:                                *judge\r\nThe wine to bringe him commanded he,\r\nAnd drank anon; none other woe he made,\r\nWhen might is joined unto cruelty,\r\nAlas! too deepe will the venom wade.\r\n\r\nIn youth a master had this emperour,\r\nTo teache him lettrure* and courtesy;              *literature, learning\r\nFor of morality he was the flow\u2019r,\r\nAs in his time, *but if* bookes lie.                             *unless\r\nAnd while this master had of him mast\u2019ry,\r\nHe made him so conning and so souple,*                           *subtle\r\nThat longe time it was ere tyranny,\r\nOr any vice, durst in him uncouple.*                       *be let loose\r\n\r\nThis Seneca, of which that I devise,*                              *tell\r\nBecause Nero had of him suche dread,\r\nFor he from vices would him aye chastise\r\nDiscreetly, as by word, and not by deed;\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d he would say, \u201can emperor must need\r\nBe virtuous, and hate tyranny.\u201d\r\nFor which he made him in a bath to bleed\r\nOn both his armes, till he muste die.\r\n\r\nThis Nero had eke of a custumance*                                *habit\r\nIn youth against his master for to rise;*         *stand in his presence\r\nWhich afterward he thought a great grievance;\r\nTherefore he made him dien in this wise.\r\nBut natheless this Seneca the wise\r\nChose in a bath to die in this mannere,\r\nRather than have another tormentise;*                           *torture\r\nAnd thus hath Nero slain his master dear.\r\n\r\nNow fell it so, that Fortune list no longer\r\nThe highe pride of Nero to cherice;*                            *cherish\r\nFor though he were strong, yet was she stronger.\r\nShe thoughte thus; \u201cBy God, I am too nice*                      *foolish\r\nTo set a man, that is full fill\u2019d of vice,\r\nIn high degree, and emperor him call!\r\nBy God, out of his seat I will him trice!*                  *thrust <18>\r\nWhen he least weeneth,* soonest shall he fall.\u201d               *expecteth\r\n\r\nThe people rose upon him on a night,\r\nFor  his default; and when he it espied,\r\nOut of his doors anon he hath him dight*                *betaken himself\r\nAlone, and where he ween\u2019d  t\u2019have been allied,*          *regarded with\r\nHe knocked fast, and aye the more he cried                    friendship\r\nThe faster shutte they their doores all;\r\nThen wist he well he had himself misgied,*                       *misled\r\nAnd went his way, no longer durst he call.\r\n\r\nThe people cried and rumbled up and down,\r\nThat with his eares heard he how they said;\r\n\u201cWhere is this false tyrant, this Neroun?\u201d\r\nFor fear almost out of his wit he braid,*                          *went\r\nAnd to his goddes piteously he pray\u2019d\r\nFor succour, but it mighte not betide\r\nFor dread of this he thoughte that died,\r\nAnd ran into a garden him to hide.\r\n\r\nAnd in this garden found he churles tway,\r\nThat satte by a fire great and red;\r\nAnd to these churles two he gan to pray\r\nTo slay him, and to girdon* off his head,                        *strike\r\nThat to his body, when that he were dead,\r\nWere no despite done for his defame.*                            *infamy\r\nHimself he slew, *he coud no better rede;*            *he knew no better\r\nOf which Fortune laugh\u2019d and hadde game.                        counsel*\r\n\r\nWas never capitain under a king,\r\nThat regnes more put in subjectioun,\r\nNor stronger was in field of alle thing\r\nAs in his time, nor greater of renown,\r\nNor more pompous in high presumptioun,\r\nThan HOLOFERNES, whom Fortune aye kiss\u2019d\r\nSo lik\u2019rously, and led him up and down,\r\nTill that his head was off *ere that he wist.*       *before he knew it*\r\n\r\nNot only that this world had of him awe,\r\nFor losing of richess and liberty;\r\nBut he made every man *reny his law.*        *renounce his religion <19>\r\nNabuchodonosor was God, said he;\r\nNone other Godde should honoured be.\r\nAgainst his hest* there dare no wight trespace,                 *command\r\nSave in Bethulia, a strong city,\r\nWhere Eliachim priest was of that place.\r\n\r\nBut take keep* of the death of Holofern;                         *notice\r\nAmid his host he drunken lay at night\r\nWithin his tente, large as is a bern;*                             *barn\r\nAnd yet, for all his pomp and all his might,\r\nJudith, a woman, as he lay upright\r\nSleeping, his head off smote, and from his tent\r\nFull privily she stole from every wight,\r\nAnd with his head unto her town she went.\r\n\r\nWhat needeth it of king ANTIOCHUS <20>\r\nTo tell his high and royal majesty,\r\nHis great pride, and his workes venomous?\r\nFor such another was there none as he;\r\nReade what that he was in Maccabee.\r\nAnd read the proude wordes that he said,\r\nAnd why he fell from his prosperity,\r\nAnd in an hill how wretchedly he died.\r\n\r\nFortune him had enhanced so in pride,\r\nThat verily he ween\u2019d he might attain\r\nUnto the starres upon every side,\r\nAnd in a balance weighen each mountain,\r\nAnd all the floodes of the sea restrain.\r\nAnd Godde\u2019s people had he most in hate\r\nThem would he slay in torment and in pain,\r\nWeening that God might not his pride abate.\r\n\r\nAnd for that Nicanor and Timothee\r\nWith Jewes were vanquish\u2019d mightily, <21>\r\nUnto the Jewes such an hate had he,\r\nThat he bade *graith his car* full hastily,        *prepare his chariot*\r\nAnd swore and saide full dispiteously,\r\nUnto Jerusalem he would eftsoon,*                           *immediately\r\nTo wreak his ire on it full cruelly\r\nBut of his purpose was he let* full soon.                     *prevented\r\n\r\nGod for his menace him so sore smote,\r\nWith invisible wound incurable,\r\nThat in his guttes carf* it so and bote,**                 *cut **gnawed\r\nTill that his paines were importable;*                      *unendurable\r\nAnd certainly the wreche* was reasonable,                     *vengeance\r\nFor many a manne\u2019s guttes did he pain;\r\nBut from his purpose, curs\u2019d* and damnable,                     *impious\r\nFor all his smart he would him not restrain;\r\nBut bade anon apparaile* his host.                              *prepare\r\n\r\nAnd suddenly, ere he was of it ware,\r\nGod daunted all his pride, and all his boast\r\nFor he so sore fell out of his chare,*                          *chariot\r\nThat it his limbes and his skin to-tare,\r\nSo that he neither mighte go nor ride\r\nBut in a chaire men about him bare,\r\nAlle forbruised bothe back and side.\r\n\r\nThe wreche* of God him smote so cruelly,                      *vengeance\r\nThat through his body wicked wormes crept,\r\nAnd therewithal he stank so horribly\r\nThat none of all his meinie* that him kept,                    *servants\r\nWhether so that he woke or elles slept,\r\nNe mighte not of him the stink endure.\r\nIn this mischief he wailed and eke wept,\r\nAnd knew God Lord of every creature.\r\n\r\nTo all his host, and to himself also,\r\nFull wlatsem* was the stink of his carrain;**          *loathsome **body\r\nNo manne might him beare to and fro.\r\nAnd in this stink, and this horrible pain,\r\nHe starf* full wretchedly in a mountain.                           *dies\r\nThus hath this robber, and this homicide,\r\nThat many a manne made to weep and plain,\r\nSuch guerdon* as belongeth unto pride.                           *reward\r\n\r\nThe story of ALEXANDER is so commune,\r\nThat ev\u2019ry wight that hath discretion\r\nHath heard somewhat or all of his fortune.\r\nThis wide world, as in conclusion,\r\nHe won by strength; or, for his high renown,\r\nThey were glad for peace to him to send.\r\nThe pride and boast of man he laid adown,\r\nWhereso he came, unto the worlde\u2019s end.\r\n\r\nComparison yet never might be maked\r\nBetween him and another conqueror;\r\nFor all this world for dread of him had quaked\r\nHe was of knighthood and of freedom flow\u2019r:\r\nFortune him made the heir of her honour.\r\nSave wine and women, nothing might assuage\r\nHis high intent in arms and labour,\r\nSo was he full of leonine courage.\r\n\r\nWhat praise were it to him, though I you told\r\nOf Darius, and a hundred thousand mo\u2019,\r\nOf kinges, princes, dukes, and earles bold,\r\nWhich he conquer\u2019d, and brought them into woe?\r\nI say, as far as man may ride or go,\r\nThe world was his, why should I more devise?*                      *tell\r\nFor, though I wrote or told you evermo\u2019,\r\nOf his knighthood it mighte not suffice.\r\n\r\nTwelve years he reigned, as saith Maccabee\r\nPhilippe\u2019s son of Macedon he was,\r\nThat first was king in Greece the country.\r\nO worthy gentle* Alexander, alas                                  *noble\r\nThat ever should thee falle such a case!\r\nEmpoison\u2019d of thine owen folk thou were;\r\nThy six <22> fortune hath turn\u2019d into an ace,\r\nAnd yet for thee she wepte never a tear.\r\n\r\nWho shall me give teares to complain\r\nThe death of gentiless, and of franchise,*                   *generosity\r\nThat all this worlde had in his demaine,*                      *dominion\r\nAnd yet he thought it mighte not suffice,\r\nSo full was his corage* of high emprise?                         *spirit\r\nAlas! who shall me helpe to indite\r\nFalse Fortune, and poison to despise?\r\nThe whiche two of all this woe I wite.*                           *blame\r\n\r\nBy wisdom, manhood, and by great labour,\r\nFrom humbleness to royal majesty\r\nUp rose he, JULIUS the Conquerour,\r\nThat won all th\u2019 Occident,* by land and sea,                       *West\r\nBy strength of hand or elles by treaty,\r\nAnd unto Rome made them tributary;\r\nAnd since* of Rome the emperor was he,                       *afterwards\r\nTill that Fortune wax\u2019d his adversary.\r\n\r\nO mighty Caesar, that in Thessaly\r\nAgainst POMPEIUS, father thine in law, <23>\r\nThat of th\u2019 Orient had all the chivalry,\r\nAs far as that the day begins to daw,\r\nThat through thy knighthood hast them take and slaw,*             slain*\r\nSave fewe folk that with Pompeius fled;\r\nThrough which thou put all th\u2019 Orient in awe; <24>\r\nThanke Fortune that so well thee sped.\r\n\r\nBut now a little while I will bewail\r\nThis Pompeius, this noble governor\r\nOf Rome, which that fled at this battaile\r\nI say, one of his men, a false traitor,\r\nHis head off smote, to winne him favor\r\nOf Julius, and him the head he brought;\r\nAlas! Pompey, of th\u2019 Orient conqueror,\r\nThat Fortune unto such a fine* thee brought!                        *end\r\n\r\nTo Rome again repaired Julius,\r\nWith his triumphe laureate full high;\r\nBut on a time Brutus and Cassius,\r\nThat ever had of his estate envy,\r\nFull privily have made conspiracy\r\nAgainst this Julius in subtle wise\r\nAnd cast* the place in which he shoulde die,                   *arranged\r\nWith bodekins,* as I shall you devise.**                 *daggers **tell\r\n\r\nThis Julius to the Capitole went\r\nUpon a day, as he was wont to gon;\r\nAnd in the Capitol anon him hent*                                *seized\r\nThis false Brutus, and his other fone,*                            *foes\r\nAnd sticked him with bodekins anon\r\nWith many a wound, and thus they let him lie.\r\nBut never groan\u2019d he at no stroke but one,\r\nOr else at two, *but if* the story lie.                          *unless\r\n\r\nSo manly was this Julius of heart,\r\nAnd so well loved *estately honesty                *dignified propriety*\r\nThat, though his deadly woundes sore smart,*                 *pained him\r\nHis mantle o\u2019er his hippes caste he,\r\nThat ne man shoulde see his privity\r\nAnd as he lay a-dying in a trance,\r\nAnd wiste verily that dead was he,\r\nOf honesty yet had he remembrance.\r\n\r\nLucan, to thee this story I recommend,\r\nAnd to Sueton\u2019, and Valerie also,\r\nThat of this story write *word and end*                 *the whole* <25>\r\nHow that to these great conquerores two\r\nFortune was first a friend, and since* a foe.                *afterwards\r\nNo manne trust upon her favour long,\r\nBut *have her in await for evermo\u2019;*      *ever be watchful against her*\r\nWitness on all these conquerores strong.\r\n\r\nThe riche CROESUS, <26> whilom king of Lyde, \u2014\r\nOf which Croesus Cyrus him sore drad,* \u2014                       *dreaded\r\nYet was he caught amiddes all his pride,\r\nAnd to be burnt men to the fire him lad;\r\nBut such a rain down *from the welkin shad,*       *poured from the sky*\r\nThat slew the fire, and made him to escape:\r\nBut to beware no grace yet he had,\r\nTill fortune on the gallows made him gape.\r\n\r\nWhen he escaped was, he could not stint*                        *refrain\r\nFor to begin a newe war again;\r\nHe weened well, for that Fortune him sent\r\nSuch hap, that he escaped through the rain,\r\nThat of his foes he mighte not be slain.\r\nAnd eke a sweven* on a night he mette,**                *dream **dreamed\r\nOf which he was so proud, and eke so fain,*                        *glad\r\nThat he in vengeance all his hearte set.\r\n\r\nUpon a tree he was set, as he thought,\r\nWhere Jupiter him wash\u2019d, both back and side,\r\nAnd Phoebus eke a fair towel him brought\r\nTo dry him with; and therefore wax\u2019d his pride.\r\nAnd to his daughter that stood him beside,\r\nWhich he knew in high science to abound,\r\nHe bade her tell him what it signified;\r\nAnd she his dream began right thus expound.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe tree,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthe gallows is to mean,\r\nAnd Jupiter betokens snow and rain,\r\nAnd Phoebus, with his towel clear and clean,\r\nThese be the sunne\u2019s streames* sooth to sayn;                      *rays\r\nThou shalt y-hangeth be, father, certain;\r\nRain shall thee wash, and sunne shall thee dry.\u201d\r\nThus warned him full plat and eke full plain\r\nHis daughter, which that called was Phanie.\r\n\r\nAnd hanged was Croesus the proude king;\r\nHis royal throne might him not avail.\r\nTragedy is none other manner thing,\r\nNor can in singing crien nor bewail,\r\nBut for that Fortune all day will assail\r\nWith unware stroke the regnes* that be proud:<27>              *kingdoms\r\nFor when men truste her, then will she fail,\r\nAnd cover her bright face with a cloud.\r\n\r\nO noble, O worthy PEDRO, <28> glory OF SPAIN,\r\nWhem Fortune held so high in majesty,\r\nWell oughte men thy piteous death complain.\r\nOut of thy land thy brother made thee flee,\r\nAnd after, at a siege, by subtlety,\r\nThou wert betray\u2019d, and led unto his tent,\r\nWhere as he with his owen hand slew thee,\r\nSucceeding in thy regne* and in thy rent.**           *kingdom *revenues\r\n\r\nThe field of snow, with th\u2019 eagle of black therein,\r\nCaught with the lion, red-colour\u2019d as the glede,*          *burning coal\r\nHe brew\u2019d this cursedness,* and all this sin;      *wickedness, villainy\r\nThe wicked nest was worker of this deed;\r\nNot Charles\u2019 Oliver, <29> that took aye heed\r\nOf truth and honour, but of Armorike\r\nGanilien Oliver, corrupt for meed,*                       *reward, bribe\r\nBroughte this worthy king in such a brike.*                *breach, ruin\r\n\r\nO worthy PETRO, King of CYPRE <30> also,\r\nThat Alexandre won by high mast\u2019ry,\r\nFull many a heathnen wroughtest thou full woe,\r\nOf which thine owen lieges had envy;\r\nAnd, for no thing but for thy chivalry,\r\nThey in thy bed have slain thee by the morrow;\r\nThus can Fortune her wheel govern and gie,*                       *guide\r\nAnd out of joy bringe men into sorrow.\r\n\r\nOf Milan greate BARNABO VISCOUNT,<30>\r\nGod of delight, and scourge of Lombardy,\r\nWhy should I not thine clomben*  wert so high?                  *climbed\r\nThy brother\u2019s son, that was thy double ally,\r\nFor he thy nephew was and son-in-law,\r\nWithin his prison made thee to die,\r\nBut why, nor how, *n\u2019ot I* that thou were slaw.*    *I know not* *slain*\r\n\r\nOf th\u2019 Earl HUGOLIN OF PISE the languour*                         *agony\r\nThere may no tongue telle for pity.\r\nBut little out of Pisa stands a tow\u2019r,\r\nIn whiche tow\u2019r in prison put was he,\r\nAud with him be his little children three;\r\nThe eldest scarcely five years was of age;\r\nAlas! Fortune, it was great cruelty\r\nSuch birdes for to put in such a cage.\r\n\r\nDamned was he to die in that prison;\r\nFor Roger, which that bishop was of Pise,\r\nHad on him made a false suggestion,\r\nThrough which the people gan upon him rise,\r\nAnd put him in prison, in such a wise\r\nAs ye have heard; and meat and drink he had\r\nSo small, that well unneth* it might suffice,                  *scarcely\r\nAnd therewithal it was full poor and bad.\r\n\r\nAnd on a day befell, that in that hour\r\nWhen that his meate wont was to be brought,\r\nThe jailor shut the doores of the tow\u2019r;\r\nHe heard it right well, but he spake nought.\r\nAnd in his heart anon there fell a thought,\r\nThat they for hunger woulde *do him dien;*            *cause him to die*\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201calas that I was wrought!\u201d*                *made, born\r\nTherewith the teares fell from his eyen.\r\n\r\nHis youngest son, that three years was of age,\r\nUnto him said, \u201cFather, why do ye weep?\r\nWhen will the jailor bringen our pottage?\r\nIs there no morsel bread that ye do keep?\r\nI am so hungry, that I may not sleep.\r\nNow woulde God that I might sleepen ever!\r\nThen should not hunger in my wombe* creep;                      *stomach\r\nThere is no thing, save bread, that one were lever.\u201d*            *dearer\r\n\r\nThus day by day this child begun to cry,\r\nTill in his father\u2019s barme* adown he lay,                           *lap\r\nAnd saide, \u201cFarewell, father, I must die;\u201d\r\nAnd kiss\u2019d his father, and died the same day.\r\nAnd when the woeful father did it sey,*                             *see\r\nFor woe his armes two he gan to bite,\r\nAnd said, \u201cAlas! Fortune, and well-away!\r\nTo thy false wheel my woe all may I wite.\u201d*                       *blame\r\n\r\nHis children ween\u2019d that it for hunger was\r\nThat he his armes gnaw\u2019d, and not for woe,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cFather, do not so, alas!\r\nBut rather eat the flesh upon us two.\r\nOur flesh thou gave us, our flesh take us fro\u2019,\r\nAnd eat enough;\u201d right thus they to him said.\r\nAnd after that, within a day or two,\r\nThey laid them in his lap adown, and died.\r\n\r\nHimself, despaired, eke for hunger starf.*                         *died\r\nThus ended is this Earl of Pise;\r\nFrom high estate Fortune away him carf.*                        *cut off\r\nOf this tragedy it ought enough suffice\r\nWhoso will hear it *in a longer wise,*               *at greater length*\r\nReade the greate poet of ltale,\r\nThat Dante hight, for he can it devise <32>\r\nFrom point to point, not one word will he fail.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Monk\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Monk\u2019s Tale is founded in its main features on\r\nBocccacio\u2019s work, \u201cDe Casibus Virorum Illustrium;\u201d (\u201cStories\r\nof Illustrious Men\u201d) but Chaucer has taken the separate stories\r\nof which it is composed from different authors, and dealt with\r\nthem after his own fashion.\r\n\r\n 2. Boccaccio opens his book with Adam, whose story is told at\r\nmuch greater length than here. Lydgate, in his translation from\r\nBoccaccio, speaks of Adam and Eve as made  \u201cof slime of the\r\nerth in Damascene the felde.\u201d\r\n\r\n3.  Judges xiii. 3. Boccaccio also tells the story of Samson; but\r\nChaucer seems, by his quotation a few lines below, to have\r\ntaken his version direct from the sacred book.\r\n\r\n4. Oliveres: olive trees; French, \u201coliviers.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. \u201cLiber Judicum,\u201d the Book of Judges; chap. xv.\r\n\r\n6. Querne:  mill; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201ccyrran,\u201d to turn,\r\n\u201ccweorn,\u201d a mill,\r\n\r\n7.Harpies: the Stymphalian Birds, which fed on human flesh.\r\n\r\n8.  Busiris, king of Egypt, was wont to sacrifice all foreigners\r\ncoming to his dominions. Hercules was seized, bound, and led\r\nto the altar by his orders, but the hero broke his bonds and slew\r\nthe tyrant.\r\n\r\n9. The feats of Hercules here recorded are not all these known\r\nas the \u201ctwelve labours;\u201d for instance, the cleansing of the\r\nAugean stables, and the capture of Hippolyte\u2019s girdle are not in\r\nthis list \u2014 other and less famous deeds of the hero taking their\r\nplace. For this, however, we must accuse not Chaucer, but\r\nBoethius, whom he has almost literally translated, though with\r\nsome change of order.\r\n\r\n10. Trophee:  One of the manuscripts has a marginal reference\r\nto \u201cTropheus vates Chaldaeorum\u201d (\u201cTropheus the prophet of\r\nthe Chaldees\u201d); but it is not known what author Chaucer meant\r\n\u2014 unless the reference is to a passage in the \u201cFilostrato\u201d of\r\nBoccaccio, on which Chaucer founded his \u201cTroilus and\r\nCressida,\u201d and which Lydgate mentions, under the name of\r\n\u201cTrophe,\u201d as having been translated by Chaucer.\r\n\r\n11. Pres: near; French, \u201cpres;\u201d the meaning seems to be, this\r\nnearer, lower world.\r\n\r\n12 Chaucer has taken the story of Zenobia from Boccaccio\u2019s\r\nwork \u201cDe Claris Mulieribus.\u201d (\u201cOf Illustrious Women\u201d)\r\n\r\n13.  Odenatus, who, for his services to the Romans, received\r\nfrom Gallienus the title of  \u201cAugustus;\u201d he was assassinated in\r\nA.D. 266 \u2014 not, it was believed, without the connivance of\r\nZenobia, who succeeded him on the throne.\r\n\r\n14. Sapor was king of Persia, who made the Emperor Valerian\r\nprisoner, conquered Syria, and was pressing triumphantly\r\nwestward when he was met and defeated by Odenatus and\r\nZenobia.\r\n\r\n15. Aurelain became Emperor in A.D. 270.\r\n\r\n16. Vitremite:  The signification of this word,  which is spelled\r\nin several ways, is not known. Skinner\u2019s explanation, \u201canother\r\nattire,\u201d founded on the spelling \u201cautremite,\u201d is obviously\r\ninsufficient.\r\n\r\n17. Great part of this \u201ctragedy\u201d of Nero is really borrowed,\r\nhowever, from the \u201cRomance of the Rose.\u201d\r\n\r\n18. Trice:  thrust; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cthriccan.\u201d\r\n\r\n19. So, in the Man of  Law\u2019s Tale, the Sultaness promises her\r\nson that she will \u201creny her lay.\u201d\r\n\r\n20. As the \u201ctragedy\u201d of Holofernes is founded on the book of\r\nJudith, so is that of Antiochus on the Second Book of the\r\nMaccabees, chap. ix.\r\n\r\n21. By the insurgents under the leadership of Judas Maccabeus;\r\n2 Macc. chap. viii.\r\n\r\n22. Six:  the highest cast on a dicing-cube; here representing the\r\nhighest favour of fortune.\r\n\r\n23. Pompey had married his daughter Julia to Caesar; but she\r\ndied six years before Pompey\u2019s final overthrow.\r\n\r\n24. At the battle of Pharsalia, B.C. 48.\r\n\r\n25. Word and end: apparently a corruption of the Anglo-Saxon\r\nphrase, \u201cord and end,\u201d meaning the whole, the beginning and\r\nthe end.\r\n\r\n26. At the opening of the story of Croesus, Chaucer has copied\r\nfrom his own translation of Boethius; but the story is mainly\r\ntaken from the \u201cRomance of the Rose\u201d\r\n\r\n27. \u201cThis reflection,\u201d says Tyrwhttt, \u201cseems to have been\r\nsuggested by one which follows soon after the mention of\r\nCroesus in the passage just cited from Boethius. \u2018What other\r\nthing bewail the cryings of tragedies but only the deeds of\r\nfortune, that with an awkward stroke, overturneth the realms of\r\ngreat nobley?\u2019\u201d \u2014  in some manuscripts the four \u201ctragedies\u201d that\r\nfollow are placed between those of Zenobia and Nero; but\r\nalthough the general reflection with which the \u201ctragedy\u201d of\r\nCroesus closes might most appropriately wind up the whole\r\nseries, the general chronological arrangement which is observed\r\nin the other cases recommends the order followed in the text.\r\nBesides, since, like several other Tales, the Monk\u2019s tragedies\r\nwere cut short by the impatience of the auditors, it is more\r\nnatural that the Tale should close abruptly, than by such a\r\nrhetorical finish as these lines afford.\r\n\r\n28. Pedro the Cruel, King of Aragon, against whom his brother\r\nHenry rebelled. He was by false pretences inveigled into his\r\nbrother\u2019s tent, and treacherously slain. Mr Wright has remarked\r\nthat \u201cthe cause of Pedro, though he was no better than a cruel\r\nand reckless tyrant, was popular in England from the very\r\ncircumstance that Prince Edward (the Black Prince) had\r\nembarked in it.\u201d\r\n\r\n29. Not the Oliver of Charlemagne \u2014 but a traitorous Oliver of\r\nArmorica, corrupted by a bribe. Ganilion was the betrayer of\r\nthe Christian army at Roncevalles (see note 9 to the Shipman\u2019s\r\nTale); and his name appears to have been for a long time used in\r\nFrance to denote a traitor. Duguesclin, who betrayed Pedro into\r\nhis brother\u2019s tent, seems to be intended by the term \u201cGanilion\r\nOliver,\u201d but if so, Chaucer has mistaken his name, which was\r\nBertrand \u2014 perhaps confounding him, as Tyrwhttt suggests,\r\nwith Oliver du Clisson, another illustrious Breton of those\r\ntimes, who was also Constable of France, after Duguesclin. The\r\narms of the latter are supposed to be described a little above\r\n\r\n30. Pierre de Lusignan, King of Cyprus, who captured\r\nAlexandria in 1363 (see note 6 to the Prologue to the Tales).\r\nHe was assassinated in 1369.\r\n\r\n31. Bernabo Visconti, Duke of Milan, was deposed and\r\nimprisoned by his nephew, and died a captive in 1385. His death\r\nis the latest historical fact mentioned in the Tales; and thus it\r\nthrows the date of their composition to about the sixtieth year\r\nof Chaucer\u2019s age.\r\n\r\n32. The story of Ugolino is told in the 33rd Canto of the\r\n\u201cInferno.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE NUN\u2019S PRIEST\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\n\u201cHo!\u201d quoth the Knight, \u201cgood sir, no more of this;\r\nThat ye have said is right enough, y-wis,*                  *of a surety\r\nAnd muche more; for little heaviness\r\nIs right enough to muche folk, I guess.\r\nI say for me, it is a great disease,*     *source of distress, annoyance\r\nWhere as men have been in great wealth and ease,\r\nTo hearen of their sudden fall, alas!\r\nAnd the contrary is joy and great solas,*              *delight, comfort\r\nAs when a man hath been in poor estate,\r\nAnd climbeth up, and waxeth fortunate,\r\nAnd there abideth in prosperity;\r\nSuch thing is gladsome, as it thinketh me,\r\nAnd of such thing were goodly for to tell.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYea,\u201d quoth our Hoste, \u201cby Saint Paule\u2019s bell.\r\nYe say right sooth; this monk hath clapped* loud;                *talked\r\nHe spake how Fortune cover\u2019d with a cloud\r\nI wot not what, and als\u2019 of a tragedy\r\nRight now ye heard: and pardie no remedy\r\nIt is for to bewaile, nor complain\r\nThat that is done, and also it is pain,\r\nAs ye have said, to hear of heaviness.\r\nSir Monk, no more of this, so God you bless;\r\nYour tale annoyeth all this company;\r\nSuch talking is not worth a butterfly,\r\nFor therein is there no sport nor game;\r\nTherefore, Sir Monke, Dan Piers by your name,\r\nI pray you heart\u2019ly, tell us somewhat else,\r\nFor sickerly, n\u2019ere* clinking of your bells,        *were it not for the\r\nThat on your bridle hang on every side,\r\nBy heaven\u2019s king, that for us alle died,\r\nI should ere this have fallen down for sleep,\r\nAlthough the slough had been never so deep;\r\nThen had your tale been all told in vain.\r\nFor certainly, as these clerkes sayn,\r\nWhere as a man may have no audience,\r\nNought helpeth it to telle his sentence.\r\nAnd well I wot the substance is in me,\r\nIf anything shall well reported be.\r\nSir, say somewhat of hunting, <1> I you pray.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the Monk, \u201cI have *no lust to play;*       *no fondness for\r\nNow let another tell, as I have told.\u201d                          jesting*\r\nThen spake our Host with rude speech and bold,\r\nAnd said unto the Nunne\u2019s Priest anon,\r\n\u201cCome near, thou Priest, come hither, thou Sir John, <2>\r\nTell us such thing as may our heartes glade.*                   *gladden\r\nBe blithe, although thou ride upon a jade.\r\nWhat though thine horse be bothe foul and lean?\r\nIf he will serve thee, reck thou not a bean;\r\nLook that thine heart be merry evermo\u2019.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYes, Host,\u201d quoth he, \u201cso may I ride or go,\r\nBut* I be merry, y-wis I will be blamed.\u201d                        *unless\r\nAnd right anon his tale he hath attamed*                  *commenced <3>\r\nAnd thus he said unto us every one,\r\nThis sweete priest, this goodly man, Sir John.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The request is justified by the description of Monk in the\r\nPrologue as \u201can out-rider, that loved venery.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. On this Tyrwhitt remarks; \u201cI know not how it has happened,\r\nthat in the principal modern languages, John, or its equivalent,\r\nis a name of contempt or at least of slight.  So the Italians use\r\n\u2018Gianni,\u2019 from whence \u2018Zani;\u2019 the Spaniards \u2018Juan,\u2019 as \u2018Bobo\r\nJuan,\u2019 a foolish John; the French \u2018Jean,\u2019 with various additions;\r\nand in English, when we call a man \u2018a John,\u2019 we do not mean it\r\nas a title of honour.\u201d  The title of \u201cSir\u201d was usually given by\r\ncourtesy to priests.\r\n\r\n3. Attamed: commenced, broached. Compare French, \u201centamer\u201d,\r\nto cut the first piece off a joint; thence to begin.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nA poor widow, *somedeal y-stept* in age,             *somewhat advanced*\r\nWas whilom dwelling in a poor cottage,\r\nBeside a grove, standing in a dale.\r\nThis widow, of which I telle you my tale,\r\nSince thilke day that she was last a wife,\r\nIn patience led a full simple life,\r\nFor little was *her chattel and her rent.*    *her goods and her income*\r\nBy husbandry* of such as God her sent,               *thrifty management\r\nShe found* herself, and eke her daughters two.               *maintained\r\nThree large sowes had she, and no mo\u2019;\r\nThree kine, and eke a sheep that highte Mall.\r\nFull sooty was her bow\u2019r,* and eke her hall,                    *chamber\r\nIn which she ate full many a slender meal.\r\nOf poignant sauce knew she never a deal.*                          *whit\r\nNo dainty morsel passed through her throat;\r\nHer diet was *accordant to her cote.*      *in keeping with her cottage*\r\nRepletion her made never sick;\r\nAttemper* diet was all her physic,                             *moderate\r\nAnd exercise, and *hearte\u2019s suffisance.*          *contentment of heart*\r\nThe goute *let her nothing for to dance,*           *did not prevent her\r\nNor apoplexy shente* not her head.                 from dancing*   *hurt\r\nNo wine drank she, neither white nor red:\r\nHer board was served most with white and black,\r\nMilk and brown bread, in which she found no lack,\r\nSeind* bacon, and sometimes an egg or tway;                      *singed\r\nFor she was as it were *a manner dey.*        *kind of day labourer* <2>\r\nA yard she had, enclosed all about\r\nWith stickes, and a drye ditch without,\r\nIn which she had a cock, hight Chanticleer;\r\nIn all the land of crowing *n\u2019as his peer.*          *was not his equal*\r\nHis voice was merrier than the merry orgon,*                  *organ <3>\r\nOn masse days that in the churches gon.\r\nWell sickerer* was his crowing in his lodge,             *more punctual*\r\nThan is a clock, or an abbay horloge.*                        *clock <4>\r\nBy nature he knew each ascension\r\nOf th\u2019 equinoctial in thilke town;\r\nFor when degrees fiftene were ascended,\r\nThen crew he, that it might not be amended.\r\nHis comb was redder than the fine coral,\r\nEmbattell\u2019d <5> as it were a castle wall.\r\nHis bill was black, and as the jet it shone;\r\nLike azure were his legges and his tone;*                          *toes\r\nHis nailes whiter than the lily flow\u2019r,\r\nAnd like the burnish\u2019d gold was his colour,\r\nThis gentle cock had in his governance\r\nSev\u2019n hennes, for to do all his pleasance,\r\nWhich were his sisters and his paramours,\r\nAnd wondrous like to him as of colours.\r\nOf which the fairest-hued in the throat\r\nWas called Damoselle Partelote,\r\nCourteous she was, discreet, and debonair,\r\nAnd companiable,* and bare herself so fair,                    *sociable\r\nSince the day that she sev\u2019n night was old,\r\nThat truely she had the heart in hold\r\nOf Chanticleer, locked in every lith;*                             *limb\r\nHe lov\u2019d her so, that well was him therewith,\r\nBut such a joy it was to hear them sing,\r\nWhen that the brighte sunne gan to spring,\r\nIn sweet accord, *\u201cMy lefe is fare in land.\u201d* <6>            *my love is\r\nFor, at that time, as I have understand,                    gone abroad*\r\nBeastes and birdes coulde speak and sing.\r\n\r\nAnd so befell, that in a dawening,\r\nAs Chanticleer among his wives all\r\nSat on his perche, that was in the hall,\r\nAnd next him sat this faire Partelote,\r\nThis Chanticleer gan groanen in his throat,\r\nAs man that in his dream is dretched* sore,                   *oppressed\r\nAnd when that Partelote thus heard him roar,\r\nShe was aghast,* and saide, \u201cHearte dear,                        *afraid\r\nWhat aileth you to groan in this mannere?\r\nYe be a very sleeper, fy for shame!\u201d\r\nAnd he answer\u2019d and saide thus; \u201cMadame,\r\nI pray you that ye take it not agrief;*               *amiss, in umbrage\r\nBy God, *me mette* I was in such mischief,**       *I dreamed* **trouble\r\nRight now, that yet mine heart is sore affright\u2019.\r\nNow God,\u201d quoth he, \u201cmy sweven* read aright              *dream, vision.\r\nAnd keep my body out of foul prisoun.\r\n*Me mette,* how that I roamed up and down                    *I dreamed*\r\nWithin our yard, where as I saw a beast\r\nWas like an hound, and would have *made arrest*                 *siezed*\r\nUpon my body, and would have had me dead.\r\nHis colour was betwixt yellow and red;\r\nAnd tipped was his tail, and both his ears,\r\nWith black, unlike the remnant of his hairs.\r\nHis snout was small, with glowing eyen tway;\r\nYet of his look almost for fear I dey;*                            *died\r\nThis caused me my groaning, doubteless.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAway,\u201d <7> quoth she, \u201cfy on you, hearteless!*                  *coward\r\nAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201cfor, by that God above!\r\nNow have ye lost my heart and all my love;\r\nI cannot love a coward, by my faith.\r\nFor certes, what so any woman saith,\r\nWe all desiren, if it mighte be,\r\nTo have husbandes hardy, wise, and free,\r\nAnd secret,* and no niggard nor no fool,                       *discreet\r\nNor him that is aghast* of every tool,**           *afraid **rag, trifle\r\nNor no avantour,* by that God above!                           *braggart\r\nHow durste ye for shame say to your love\r\nThat anything might make you afear\u2019d?\r\nHave ye no manne\u2019s heart, and have a beard?\r\nAlas! and can ye be aghast of swevenes?*                         *dreams\r\nNothing but vanity, God wot, in sweven is,\r\nSwevens *engender of repletions,*            *are caused by over-eating*\r\nAnd oft of fume,* and of complexions,                       *drunkenness\r\nWhen humours be too abundant in a wight.\r\nCertes this dream, which ye have mette tonight,\r\nCometh of the great supefluity\r\nOf youre rede cholera,* pardie,                                    *bile\r\nWhich causeth folk to dreaden in their dreams\r\nOf arrows, and of fire with redde beams,\r\nOf redde beastes, that they will them bite,\r\nOf conteke,* and of whelpes great and lite;**       *contention **little\r\nRight as the humour of melancholy\r\nCauseth full many a man in sleep to cry,\r\nFor fear of bulles, or of beares blake,\r\nOr elles that black devils will them take,\r\nOf other humours could I tell also,\r\nThat worke many a man in sleep much woe;\r\nThat I will pass as lightly as I can.\r\nLo, Cato, which that was so wise a man,\r\nSaid he not thus, *\u2018Ne do no force of* dreams,\u2019<8>\t*attach no weight to*\r\nNow, Sir,\u201d quoth she, \u201cwhen we fly from these beams,\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, as take some laxatife;\r\nOn peril of my soul, and of my life,\r\nI counsel you the best, I will not lie,\r\nThat both of choler, and melancholy,\r\nYe purge you; and, for ye shall not tarry,\r\nThough in this town is no apothecary,\r\nI shall myself two herbes teache you,\r\nThat shall be for your health, and for your prow;*               *profit\r\nAnd in our yard the herbes shall I find,\r\nThe which have of their property by kind*                        *nature\r\nTo purge you beneath, and eke above.\r\nSire, forget not this for Godde\u2019s love;\r\nYe be full choleric of complexion;\r\nWare that the sun, in his ascension,\r\nYou finde not replete of humours hot;\r\nAnd if it do, I dare well lay a groat,\r\nThat ye shall have a fever tertiane,\r\nOr else an ague, that may be your bane,\r\nA day or two ye shall have digestives\r\nOf wormes, ere ye take your laxatives,\r\nOf laurel, centaury, <9> and fumeterere, <10>\r\nOr else of elder-berry, that groweth there,\r\nOf catapuce, <11> or of the gaitre-berries, <12>\r\nOr herb ivy growing in our yard, that merry is:\r\nPick them right as they grow, and eat them in,\r\nBe merry, husband, for your father\u2019s kin;\r\nDreade no dream; I can say you no more.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cgrand mercy of your lore,\r\nBut natheless, as touching *Dan Catoun,*                           *Cato\r\nThat hath of wisdom such a great renown,\r\nThough that he bade no dreames for to dread,\r\nBy God, men may in olde bookes read\r\nOf many a man more of authority\r\nThan ever Cato was, so may I the,*                               *thrive\r\nThat all the reverse say of his sentence,*                      *opinion\r\nAnd have well founden by experience\r\nThat dreames be significations\r\nAs well of joy, as tribulations\r\nThat folk enduren in this life present.\r\nThere needeth make of this no argument;\r\nThe very preve* sheweth it indeed.                    *trial, experience\r\nOne of the greatest authors that men read <13>\r\nSaith thus, that whilom two fellowes went\r\nOn pilgrimage in a full good intent;\r\nAnd happen\u2019d so, they came into a town\r\nWhere there was such a congregatioun\r\nOf people, and eke so *strait of herbergage,*          *without lodging*\r\nThat they found not as much as one cottage\r\nIn which they bothe might y-lodged be:\r\nWherefore they musten of necessity,\r\nAs for that night, departe company;\r\nAnd each of them went to his hostelry,*                             *inn\r\nAnd took his lodging as it woulde fall.\r\nThe one of them was lodged in a stall,\r\nFar in a yard, with oxen of the plough;\r\nThat other man was lodged well enow,\r\nAs was his aventure, or his fortune,\r\nThat us governeth all, as in commune.\r\nAnd so befell, that, long ere it were day,\r\nThis man mette* in his bed, there: as he lay,                   *dreamed\r\nHow that his fellow gan upon him call,\r\nAnd said, \u2018Alas! for in an ox\u2019s stall\r\nThis night shall I be murder\u2019d, where I lie\r\nNow help me, deare brother, or I die;\r\nIn alle haste come to me,\u2019 he said.\r\nThis man out of his sleep for fear abraid;*                     *started\r\nBut when that he was wak\u2019d out of his sleep,\r\nHe turned him, and *took of this no keep;*      *paid this no attention*\r\nHe thought his dream was but a vanity.\r\nThus twies* in his sleeping dreamed he,                           *twice\r\nAnd at the thirde time yet his fellaw again\r\nCame, as he thought, and said, \u2018I am now slaw;*                   *slain\r\nBehold my bloody woundes, deep and wide.\r\nArise up early, in the morning, tide,\r\nAnd at the west gate of the town,\u2019 quoth he,\r\n\u2018A carte full of dung there shalt: thou see,\r\nIn which my body is hid privily.\r\nDo thilke cart arroste* boldely.                                   *stop\r\nMy gold caused my murder, sooth to sayn.\u2019\r\nAnd told him every point how he was slain,\r\nWith a full piteous face, and pale of hue.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, truste well, his dream he found full true;\r\nFor on the morrow, as soon as it was day,\r\nTo his fellowes inn he took his way;\r\nAnd when that he came to this ox\u2019s stall,\r\nAfter his fellow he began to call.\r\nThe hostelere answered him anon,\r\nAnd saide, \u2018Sir, your fellow is y-gone,\r\nAs soon as day he went out of the town.\u2019\r\nThis man gan fallen in suspicioun,\r\nRememb\u2019ring on his dreames that he mette,*                      *dreamed\r\nAnd forth he went, no longer would he let,*                       *delay\r\nUnto the west gate of the town, and fand*                         *found\r\nA dung cart, as it went for to dung land,\r\nThat was arrayed in the same wise\r\nAs ye have heard the deade man devise;*                        *describe\r\nAnd with an hardy heart he gan to cry,\r\n\u2018Vengeance and justice of this felony:\r\nMy fellow murder\u2019d in this same night\r\nAnd in this cart he lies, gaping upright.\r\nI cry out on the ministers,\u2019 quoth he.\r\n\u2018That shoulde keep and rule this city;\r\nHarow! alas! here lies my fellow slain.\u2019\r\nWhat should I more unto this tale sayn?\r\nThe people out start, and cast the cart to ground\r\nAnd in the middle of the dung they found\r\nThe deade man, that murder\u2019d was all new.\r\nO blissful God! that art so good and true,\r\nLo, how that thou bewray\u2019st murder alway.\r\nMurder will out, that see we day by day.\r\nMurder is so wlatsom* and abominable                          *loathsome\r\nTo God, that is so just and reasonable,\r\nThat he will not suffer it heled* be;                    *concealed <14>\r\nThough it abide a year, or two, or three,\r\nMurder will out, this is my conclusioun,\r\nAnd right anon, the ministers of the town\r\nHave hent* the carter, and so sore him pined,**       *seized **tortured\r\nAnd eke the hostelere so sore engined,*                          *racked\r\nThat they beknew* their wickedness anon,                      *confessed\r\nAnd were hanged by the necke bone.\r\n\r\n\u201cHere may ye see that dreames be to dread.\r\nAnd certes in the same book I read,\r\nRight in the nexte chapter after this\r\n(I gabbe* not, so have I joy and bliss),                      *talk idly\r\nTwo men that would, have passed over sea,\r\nFor certain cause, into a far country,\r\nIf that the wind not hadde been contrary,\r\nThat made them in a city for to tarry,\r\nThat stood full merry upon an haven side;\r\nBut on a day, against the even-tide,\r\nThe wind gan change, and blew right *as them lest.*     *as they wished*\r\nJolly and glad they wente to their rest,\r\nAnd caste* them full early for to sail.                        *resolved\r\nBut to the one man fell a great marvail\r\nThat one of them, in sleeping as he lay,\r\nHe mette* a wondrous dream, against the day:                    *dreamed\r\nHe thought a man stood by his bedde\u2019s side,\r\nAnd him commanded that he should abide;\r\nAnd said him thus; \u2018If thou to-morrow wend,\r\nThou shalt be drown\u2019d; my tale is at an end.\u2019\r\nHe woke, and told his follow what he mette,\r\nAnd prayed him his voyage for to let;*                            *delay\r\nAs for that day, he pray\u2019d him to abide.\r\nHis fellow, that lay by his bedde\u2019s side,\r\nGan for to laugh, and scorned him full fast.\r\n\u2018No dream,\u2019 quoth he,\u2019may so my heart aghast,*                 *frighten\r\nThat I will lette* for to do my things.*                          *delay\r\nI sette not a straw by thy dreamings,\r\nFor swevens* be but vanities and japes.**        *dreams **jokes,deceits\r\nMen dream all day of owles and of apes,\r\nAnd eke of many a maze* therewithal;                     *wild imagining\r\nMen dream of thing that never was, nor shall.\r\nBut since I see, that thou wilt here abide,\r\nAnd thus forslothe* wilfully thy tide,**               *idle away **time\r\nGod wot, *it rueth me;* and have good day.\u2019          *I am sorry for it*\r\nAnd thus he took his leave, and went his way.\r\nBut, ere that he had half his course sail\u2019d,\r\nI know not why, nor what mischance it ail\u2019d,\r\nBut casually* the ship\u2019s bottom rent,                       *by accident\r\nAnd ship and man under the water went,\r\nIn sight of other shippes there beside\r\nThat with him sailed at the same tide.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd therefore, faire Partelote so dear,\r\nBy such examples olde may\u2019st thou lear,*                          *learn\r\nThat no man shoulde be too reckeless\r\nOf dreames, for I say thee doubteless,\r\nThat many a dream full sore is for to dread.\r\nLo, in the life of Saint Kenelm <15> I read,\r\nThat was Kenulphus\u2019 son, the noble king\r\nOf Mercenrike, <16> how Kenelm mette a thing.\r\nA little ere he was murder\u2019d on a day,\r\nHis murder in his vision he say.*                                   *saw\r\nHis norice* him expounded every deal**                     *nurse **part\r\nHis sweven, and bade him to keep* him well                        *guard\r\nFor treason; but he was but seven years old,\r\nAnd therefore *little tale hath he told*             *he attached little\r\nOf any dream, so holy was his heart.                    significance to*\r\nBy God, I hadde lever than my shirt\r\nThat ye had read his legend, as have I.\r\nDame Partelote, I say you truely,\r\nMacrobius, that wrote the vision\r\nIn Afric\u2019 of the worthy Scipion, <17>\r\nAffirmeth dreames, and saith that they be\r\n\u2018Warnings of thinges that men after see.\r\nAnd furthermore, I pray you looke well\r\nIn the Old Testament, of Daniel,\r\nIf he held dreames any vanity.\r\nRead eke of Joseph, and there shall ye see\r\nWhether dreams be sometimes (I say not all)\r\nWarnings of thinges that shall after fall.\r\nLook of Egypt the king, Dan Pharaoh,\r\nHis baker and his buteler also,\r\nWhether they felte none effect* in dreams.                 *significance\r\nWhoso will seek the acts of sundry remes*                        *realms\r\nMay read of dreames many a wondrous thing.\r\nLo Croesus, which that was of Lydia king,\r\nMette he not that he sat upon a tree,\r\nWhich signified he shoulde hanged be? <18>\r\nLo here, Andromache, Hectore\u2019s wife, <19>\r\nThat day that Hector shoulde lose his life,\r\nShe dreamed on the same night beforn,\r\nHow that the life of Hector should be lorn,*                       *lost\r\nIf thilke day he went into battaile;\r\nShe warned him, but it might not avail;\r\nHe wente forth to fighte natheless,\r\nAnd was y-slain anon of Achilles.\r\nBut thilke tale is all too long to tell;\r\nAnd eke it is nigh day, I may not dwell.\r\nShortly I say, as for conclusion,\r\nThat I shall have of this avision\r\nAdversity; and I say furthermore,\r\nThat I ne *tell of laxatives no store,*                  *hold laxatives\r\nFor they be venomous, I wot it well;                        of no value*\r\nI them defy,* I love them never a del.**                *distrust **whit\r\n\r\n\u201cBut let us speak of mirth, and stint* all this;                  *cease\r\nMadame Partelote, so have I bliss,\r\nOf one thing God hath sent me large* grace;                      liberal\r\nFor when I see the beauty of your face,\r\nYe be so scarlet-hued about your eyen,\r\nI maketh all my dreade for to dien,\r\nFor, all so sicker* as In principio,<20>                        *certain\r\nMulier est hominis confusio.<21>\r\nMadam, the sentence* of of this Latin is,                       *meaning\r\nWoman is manne\u2019s joy and manne\u2019s bliss.\r\nFor when I feel at night your softe side, \u2014\r\nAlbeit that I may not on you ride,\r\nFor that our perch is made so narrow, Alas!\r\nI am so full of joy and of solas,*                              *delight\r\nThat I defy both sweven and eke dream.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word he flew down from the beam,\r\nFor it was day, and eke his hennes all;\r\nAnd with a chuck he gan them for to call,\r\nFor he had found a corn, lay in the yard.\r\nRoyal he was, he was no more afear\u2019d;\r\nHe feather\u2019d Partelote twenty time,\r\nAnd as oft trode her, ere that it was prime.\r\nHe looked as it were a grim lion,\r\nAnd on his toes he roamed up and down;\r\nHe deigned not to set his feet to ground;\r\nHe chucked, when he had a corn y-found,\r\nAnd to him ranne then his wives all.\r\nThus royal, as a prince is in his hall,\r\nLeave I this Chanticleer in his pasture;\r\nAnd after will I tell his aventure.\r\n\r\nWhen that the month in which the world began,\r\nThat highte March, when God first maked man,\r\nWas complete, and y-passed were also,\r\nSince March ended, thirty days and two,\r\nBefell that Chanticleer in all his pride,\r\nHis seven wives walking him beside,\r\nCast up his eyen to the brighte sun,\r\nThat in the sign of Taurus had y-run\r\nTwenty degrees and one, and somewhat more;\r\nHe knew by kind,* and by none other lore,**           *nature **learning\r\nThat it was prime, and crew with blissful steven.*                *voice\r\n\u201cThe sun,\u201d he said, \u201cis clomben up in heaven\r\nTwenty degrees and one, and more y-wis.*                      *assuredly\r\nMadame Partelote, my worlde\u2019s bliss,\r\nHearken these blissful birdes how they sing,\r\nAnd see the freshe flowers how they spring;\r\nFull is mine heart of revel and solace.\u201d\r\nBut suddenly him fell a sorrowful case;*                       *casualty\r\nFor ever the latter end of joy is woe:\r\nGod wot that worldly joy is soon y-go:\r\nAnd, if a rhetor* coulde fair indite,                            *orator\r\nHe in a chronicle might it safely write,\r\nAs for *a sov\u2019reign notability*              *a thing supremely notable*\r\nNow every wise man, let him hearken me;\r\nThis story is all as true, I undertake,\r\nAs is the book of Launcelot du Lake,\r\nThat women hold in full great reverence.\r\nNow will I turn again to my sentence.\r\n\r\nA col-fox, <22> full of sly iniquity,\r\nThat in the grove had wonned* yeares three,                       *dwelt\r\nBy high imagination forecast,\r\nThe same night thorough the hedges brast*                         *burst\r\nInto the yard, where Chanticleer the fair\r\nWas wont, and eke his wives, to repair;\r\nAnd in a bed of wortes* still he lay,                          *cabbages\r\nTill it was passed undern <23> of the day,\r\nWaiting his time on Chanticleer to fall:\r\nAs gladly do these homicides all,\r\nThat in awaite lie to murder men.\r\nO false murd\u2019rer! Rouking* in thy den!               *crouching, lurking\r\nO new Iscariot, new Ganilion! <24>\r\nO false dissimuler, O Greek Sinon,<25>\r\nThat broughtest Troy all utterly to sorrow!\r\nO Chanticleer! accursed be the morrow\r\nThat thou into thy yard flew from the beams;*                   *rafters\r\nThou wert full well y-warned by thy dreams\r\nThat thilke day was perilous to thee.\r\nBut what that God forewot* must needes be,                    *foreknows\r\nAfter th\u2019 opinion of certain clerkes.\r\nWitness on him that any perfect clerk is,\r\nThat in school is great altercation\r\nIn this matter, and great disputation,\r\nAnd hath been of an hundred thousand men.\r\nBut I ne cannot *boult it to the bren,*     *examine it thoroughly <26>*\r\nAs can the holy doctor Augustine,\r\nOr Boece, or the bishop Bradwardine,<27>\r\nWhether that Godde\u2019s worthy foreweeting*                  *foreknowledge\r\n*Straineth me needly* for to do a thing                      *forces me*\r\n(Needly call I simple necessity),\r\nOr elles if free choice be granted me\r\nTo do that same thing, or do it not,\r\nThough God forewot* it ere that it was wrought;         *knew in advance\r\nOr if *his weeting straineth never a deal,*      *his knowing constrains\r\nBut by necessity conditionel.                                not at all*\r\nI will not have to do of such mattere;\r\nMy tale is of a cock, as ye may hear,\r\nThat took his counsel of his wife, with sorrow,\r\nTo walken in the yard upon the morrow\r\nThat he had mette the dream, as I you told.\r\nWomane\u2019s counsels be full often cold;*              *mischievous, unwise\r\nWomane\u2019s counsel brought us first to woe,\r\nAnd made Adam from Paradise to go,\r\nThere as he was full merry and well at case.\r\nBut, for I n\u2019ot* to whom I might displease                     *know not\r\nIf I counsel of women woulde blame,\r\nPass over, for I said it in my game.*                              *jest\r\nRead authors, where they treat of such mattere\r\nAnd what they say of women ye may hear.\r\nThese be the cocke\u2019s wordes, and not mine;\r\nI can no harm of no woman divine.*                  *conjecture, imagine\r\nFair in the sand, to bathe* her merrily,                           *bask\r\nLies Partelote, and all her sisters by,\r\nAgainst the sun, and Chanticleer so free\r\nSang merrier than the mermaid in the sea;\r\nFor Physiologus saith sickerly,*                              *certainly\r\nHow that they singe well and merrily. <28>\r\nAnd so befell that, as he cast his eye\r\nAmong the wortes,* on a butterfly,                             *cabbages\r\nHe was ware of this fox that lay full low.\r\nNothing *ne list him thenne* for to crow,        *he had no inclination*\r\nBut cried anon \u201cCock! cock!\u201d and up he start,\r\nAs man that was affrayed in his heart.\r\nFor naturally a beast desireth flee\r\nFrom his contrary,* if be may it see,                             *enemy\r\nThough he *ne\u2019er erst* had soon it with his eye           *never before*\r\nThis Chanticleer, when he gan him espy,\r\nHe would have fled, but that the fox anon\r\nSaid, \u201cGentle Sir, alas! why will ye gon?\r\nBe ye afraid of me that am your friend?\r\nNow, certes, I were worse than any fiend,\r\nIf I to you would harm or villainy.\r\nI am not come your counsel to espy.\r\nBut truely the cause of my coming\r\nWas only for to hearken how ye sing;\r\nFor truely ye have as merry a steven,*                            *voice\r\nAs any angel hath that is in heaven;\r\nTherewith ye have of music more feeling,\r\nThan had Boece, or any that can sing.\r\nMy lord your father (God his soule bless)\r\nAnd eke your mother of her gentleness,\r\nHave in mnine house been, to my great ease:*               *satisfaction\r\nAnd certes, Sir, full fain would I you please.\r\nBut, for men speak of singing, I will say,\r\nSo may I brooke* well mine eyen tway,            *enjoy, possess, or use\r\nSave you, I hearde never man so sing\r\nAs did your father in the morrowning.\r\nCertes it was of heart all that he sung.\r\nAnd, for to make his voice the more strong,\r\nHe would *so pain him,* that with both his eyen  *make such an exertion*\r\nHe muste wink, so loud he woulde cryen,\r\nAnd standen on his tiptoes therewithal,\r\nAnd stretche forth his necke long and small.\r\nAnd eke he was of such discretion,\r\nThat there was no man, in no region,\r\nThat him in song or wisdom mighte pass.\r\nI have well read in Dan Burnel the Ass, <29>\r\nAmong his verse, how that there was a cock\r\nThat, for* a prieste\u2019s son gave him a knock                     *because\r\nUpon his leg, while he was young and nice,*                     *foolish\r\nHe made him for to lose his benefice.\r\nBut certain there is no comparison\r\nBetwixt the wisdom and discretion\r\nOf youre father, and his subtilty.\r\nNow singe, Sir, for sainte charity,\r\nLet see, can ye your father counterfeit?\u201d\r\n\r\nThis Chanticleer his wings began to beat,\r\nAs man that could not his treason espy,\r\nSo was he ravish\u2019d with his flattery.\r\nAlas! ye lordes, many a false flattour*                  *flatterer <30>\r\nIs in your court, and many a losengeour, *                *deceiver <31>\r\nThat please you well more, by my faith,\r\nThan he that soothfastness* unto you saith.                       *truth\r\nRead in Ecclesiast\u2019 of flattery;\r\nBeware, ye lordes, of their treachery.\r\nThis Chanticleer stood high upon his toes,\r\nStretching his neck, and held his eyen close,\r\nAnd gan to crowe loude for the nonce\r\nAnd Dan Russel <32> the fox start up at once,\r\nAnd *by the gorge hente* Chanticleer,             *seized by the throat*\r\nAnd on his back toward the wood him bare.\r\nFor yet was there no man that him pursu\u2019d.\r\nO  destiny, that may\u2019st not be eschew\u2019d!*                       *escaped\r\nAlas, that Chanticleer flew from the beams!\r\nAlas, his wife raughte* nought of dreams!                      *regarded\r\nAnd on a Friday fell all this mischance.\r\nO Venus, that art goddess of pleasance,\r\nSince that thy servant was this Chanticleer\r\nAnd in thy service did all his powere,\r\nMore for delight, than the world to multiply,\r\nWhy wilt thou suffer him on thy day to die?\r\nO Gaufrid, deare master sovereign, <33>\r\nThat, when thy worthy king Richard was slain\r\nWith shot, complainedest his death so sore,\r\nWhy n\u2019had I now thy sentence and thy lore,\r\nThe Friday for to chiden, as did ye?\r\n(For on a Friday, soothly, slain was he),\r\nThen would I shew you how that I could plain*                    *lament\r\nFor Chanticleere\u2019s dread, and for his pain.\r\n\r\nCertes such cry nor lamentation\r\nWas ne\u2019er of ladies made, when Ilion\r\nWas won, and Pyrrhus with his straighte sword,\r\nWhen he had hent* king Priam by the beard,                       *seized\r\nAnd slain him (as saith us Eneidos*),<34>                    *The Aeneid\r\nAs maden all the hennes in the close,*                             *yard\r\nWhen they had seen of Chanticleer the sight.\r\nBut sov\u2019reignly* Dame Partelote shright,**             *above all others\r\nFull louder than did Hasdrubale\u2019s wife,                       **shrieked\r\nWhen that her husband hadde lost his life,\r\nAnd that the Romans had y-burnt Carthage;\r\nShe was so full of torment and of rage,\r\nThat wilfully into the fire she start,\r\nAnd burnt herselfe with a steadfast heart.\r\nO woeful hennes! right so cried ye,\r\nAs, when that Nero burned the city\r\nOf Rome, cried the senatores\u2019 wives,\r\nFor that their husbands losten all their lives;\r\nWithoute guilt this Nero hath them slain.\r\nNow will I turn unto my tale again;\r\n\r\nThe sely* widow, and her daughters two,                  *simple, honest\r\nHearde these hennes cry and make woe,\r\nAnd at the doors out started they anon,\r\nAnd saw the fox toward the wood is gone,\r\nAnd bare upon his back the cock away:\r\nThey cried, \u201cOut! harow! and well-away!\r\nAha! the fox!\u201d and after him they ran,\r\nAnd eke with staves many another man\r\nRan Coll our dog, and Talbot, and Garland;\r\nAnd Malkin, with her distaff in her hand\r\nRan cow and calf, and eke the very hogges\r\nSo fear\u2019d they were for barking of the dogges,\r\nAnd shouting of the men and women eke.\r\nThey ranne so, them thought their hearts would break.\r\nThey yelled as the fiendes do in hell;\r\nThe duckes cried as men would them quell;*                *kill, destroy\r\nThe geese for feare flewen o\u2019er the trees,\r\nOut of the hive came the swarm of bees,\r\nSo hideous was the noise, ben\u2019dicite!\r\nCertes he, Jacke Straw,<35> and his meinie,*                  *followers\r\nNe made never shoutes half so shrill\r\nWhen that they woulden any Fleming kill,\r\nAs thilke day was made upon the fox.\r\nOf brass they broughte beames* and of box,                *trumpets <36>\r\nOf horn and bone, in which they blew and pooped,*               **tooted\r\nAnd therewithal they shrieked and they hooped;\r\nIt seemed as the heaven shoulde fall\r\n\r\nNow, goode men, I pray you hearken all;\r\nLo, how Fortune turneth suddenly\r\nThe hope and pride eke of her enemy.\r\nThis cock, that lay upon the fox\u2019s back,\r\nIn all his dread unto the fox he spake,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cSir, if that I were as ye,\r\nYet would I say (as wisly* God help me),                         *surely\r\n\u2018Turn ye again, ye proude churles all;\r\nA very pestilence upon you fall.\r\nNow am I come unto the woode\u2019s side,\r\nMaugre your head, the cock shall here abide;\r\nI will him eat, in faith, and that anon.\u2019\u201d\r\nThe fox answer\u2019d, \u201cIn faith it shall be done:\u201d\r\nAnd, as he spake the word, all suddenly\r\nThe cock brake from his mouth deliverly,*                        *nimbly\r\nAnd high upon a tree he flew anon.\r\nAnd when the fox saw that the cock was gone,\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth he, \u201cO Chanticleer, alas!\r\nI have,\u201d quoth he, \u201cy-done to you trespass,*                    *offence\r\nInasmuch as I maked you afear\u2019d,\r\nWhen I you hent,* and brought out of your yard;                    *took\r\nBut, Sir, I did it in no wick\u2019 intent;\r\nCome down, and I shall tell you what I meant.\r\nI shall say sooth to you, God help me so.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay then,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI shrew* us both the two,                  *curse\r\nAnd first I shrew myself, both blood and bones,\r\nIf thou beguile me oftener than once.\r\nThou shalt no more through thy flattery\r\nDo* me to sing and winke with mine eye;                           *cause\r\nFor he that winketh when he shoulde see,\r\nAll wilfully, God let him never the.\u201d*                           *thrive\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the fox; \u201cbut God give him mischance\r\nThat is so indiscreet of governance,\r\nThat jangleth* when that he should hold his peace.\u201d            *chatters\r\n\r\nLo, what it is for to be reckeless\r\nAnd negligent, and trust on flattery.\r\nBut ye that holde this tale a folly,\r\nAs of a fox, or of a cock or hen,\r\nTake the morality thereof, good men.\r\nFor Saint Paul saith, That all that written is,\r\n*To our doctrine it written is y-wis.* <37>       *is surely written for\r\nTake the fruit, and let the chaff be still.             our instruction*\r\n\r\nNow goode God, if that it be thy will,\r\nAs saith my Lord, <38> so make us all good men;\r\nAnd bring us all to thy high bliss. Amen.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1.  The Tale of the Nun\u2019s Priest is founded on the fifth chapter\r\nof an old French metrical \u201cRomance of Renard;\u201d the same story\r\nforming one of the fables of Marie, the translator of the Breton\r\nLays. (See note 2 to the Prologue to the Franklin\u2019s Tale.)\r\nAlthough Dryden was in error when he ascribed the Tale to\r\nChaucer\u2019s own invention, still the materials on which he had to\r\noperate were out of cornparison more trivial than the result.\r\n\r\n2.  Tyrwhitt quotes two statutes of Edward III, in which \u201cdeys\u201d\r\nare included among the servants employed in agricultural\r\npursuits; the name seems to have originally meant a servant who\r\ngave his labour by the day, but afterwards to have been\r\nappropriated exclusively to one who superintended or worked\r\nin a dairy.\r\n\r\n3. Orgon: here licentiously used for the plural, \u201corgans\u201d or\r\n\u201corgons,\u201d corresponding to the plural verb \u201cgon\u201d in the next\r\nline.\r\n\r\n4. Horloge: French, \u201cclock.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. Embattell\u2019d: indented on the upper edge like the battlements\r\nof a castle.\r\n\r\n6. My lefe is fare in land: This seems to have been the refrain of\r\nsome old song, and its precise meaning is uncertain. It\r\ncorresponds in cadence with the morning salutation of the cock;\r\nand may be taken as a greeting to the sun, which is beloved of\r\nChanticleer, and has just come upon the earth \u2014 or in the sense\r\nof a more local boast, as vaunting the fairness of his favourite\r\nhen above all others in the country round.\r\n\r\nTranscriber\u2019s note: Later commentators explain \u201cfare in land\u201d as\r\n\u201cgone abroad\u201d and  have identified the song:\r\n\r\nMy lefe is fare in lond\r\nAlas! Why is she so?\r\nAnd I am so sore bound\r\nI may not come her to.\r\nShe hath my heart in hold\r\nWhere ever she ride or go\r\nWith true love a thousand-fold.\r\n\r\n(Printed in The Athenaeum, 1896, Vol II, p. 566).\r\n\r\n7. \u201cAvoi!\u201d is the word here rendered \u201caway!\u201d It was frequently\r\nused in the French fabliaux, and the Italians employ the word\r\n\u201cvia!\u201d in the same sense.\r\n\r\n8. \u201cNe do no force of dreams:\u201d \u201cSomnia ne cares;\u201d \u2014  Cato\r\n\u201cDe Moribus,\u201d 1 ii, dist. 32\r\n\r\n9. Centaury: the herb so called because by its virtue the centaur\r\nChiron was healed when the poisoned arrow of Hercules had\r\naccidentally wounded his foot.\r\n\r\n10. Fumetere: the herb \u201cfumitory.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Catapuce:  spurge; a plant of purgative qualities. To its\r\nname in the text correspond the Italian \u201ccatapuzza,\u201d and French\r\n\u201ccatapuce\u201d \u2014 words the origin of which is connected with the\r\neffects of the plant.\r\n\r\n12. Gaitre-berries: dog-wood berries.\r\n\r\n13. One of the greatest authors that men read: Cicero, who in\r\nhis book \u201cDe Divinatione\u201d tells this and the following story,\r\nthough in contrary order and with many differences.\r\n\r\n14. Haled or hylled; from Anglo-Saxon \u201chelan\u201d hid, concealed\r\n\r\n15.  Kenelm succeeded his father as king of the Saxon realm of\r\nMercia in 811, at the age of seven years; but he was slain by his\r\nambitious aunt Quendrada. The place of his burial was\r\nmiraculously discovered, and he was subsequently elevated to\r\nthe rank of a saint and martyr. His life is in the English \u201cGolden\r\nLegend.\u201d\r\n\r\n16. Mercenrike: the kingdom of Mercia; Anglo-Saxon,\r\nMyrcnarice. Compare the second member of the compound in\r\nthe German, \u201cFrankreich,\u201d France; \u201cOesterreich,\u201d Austria.\r\n\r\n17. Cicero (\u201cDe Republica,\u201d lib. vi.) wrote the Dream of\r\nScipio, in which the Younger relates the appearance of the\r\nElder Africanus, and the counsels and exhortations which the\r\nshade addressed to the sleeper. Macrobius wrote an elaborate\r\n\u201cCommentary on the Dream of Scipio,\u201d \u2014 a philosophical\r\ntreatise much studied and relished during the Middle Ages.\r\n\r\n18. See the Monk\u2019s Tale for this story.\r\n\r\n19. Andromache\u2019s dream will not be found in Homer; It is\r\nrelated in the book of the fictitious Dares Phrygius, the most\r\npopular authority during the Middle Ages for the history of the\r\nTrojan War.\r\n\r\n20. In principio: In the beginning; the first words of Genesis and\r\nof the Gospel of John.\r\n\r\n21. Mulier est hominis confusio:  This line is taken from the\r\nsame fabulous conference between the Emperor Adrian and the\r\nphilosopher Secundus, whence Chaucer derived some of the\r\narguments in praise of poverty employed in the Wife of Bath\u2019s\r\nTale proper. See note 14 to the Wife of Bath\u2019s tale.  The\r\npassage transferred to the text is the commencement of a\r\ndescription of woman. \u201cQuid est mulier? hominis confusio,\u201d &c.\r\n(\u201cWhat is Woman? A union with man\u201d, &c.)\r\n\r\n22. Col-fox: a blackish fox, so called because of its likeness to\r\ncoal, according to Skinner; though more probably the prefix has\r\na reproachful meaning, and is in some way connected with the\r\nword \u201ccold\u201d as, some forty lines below, it is applied to the\r\nprejudicial counsel of women, and as frequently it is used to\r\ndescribe \u201csighs\u201d and other tokens of grief, and \u201ccares\u201d or\r\n\u201canxieties.\u201d\r\n\r\n23. Undern:  In this case, the meaning of \u201cevening\u201d or\r\n\u201cafternoon\u201d can hardly be applied to the word, which must be\r\ntaken to signify some early hour of the forenoon. See also note\r\n4 to the Wife of Bath\u2019s tale and note 5 to the Clerk\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n24. Ganilion: a traitor.  See note 9 to the Shipman\u2019s Tale and\r\nnote 28 to the Monk\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n25. Greek Sinon: The inventor of the Trojan Horse. See note 14\r\nto the Squire\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n26. Boult it from the bren: Examine the matter thoroughly; a\r\nmetaphor taken from the sifting of meal, to divide the fine flour\r\nfrom the bran.\r\n\r\n27. Thomas Bradwardine, Archbishop of Canterbury in the\r\nthirteenth century, who wrote a book, \u201cDe Causa Dei,\u201d in\r\ncontroversy with Pelagius; and also numerous other treatises,\r\namong them some  on predestination.\r\n\r\n28. In a popular mediaveal Latin treatise by one Theobaldus,\r\nentitled \u201cPhysiologus de Naturis XII. Animalium\u201d (\u201cA\r\ndescription of the nature of twelve animals\u201d),  sirens or\r\nmermaids are described as skilled in song, and drawing unwary\r\nmariners to destruction by the sweetness of their voices.\r\n\r\n29. \u201cNigellus Wireker,\u201d says Urry\u2019s Glossary, \u201ca monk and\r\nprecentor of Canterbury, wrote a Latin poem intituled\r\n\u2018Speculum Speculorum,\u2019 (\u2018The mirror of mirrors\u2019) dedicated to\r\nWilliam Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, and Lord Chancellor;\r\nwherein, under the fable of an Ass (which he calls \u2018Burnellus\u2019)\r\nthat desired a longer tail, is represented the folly of such as are\r\nnot content with their own condition. There is introduced a tale\r\nof a cock, who having his leg broke by a priest\u2019s son (called\r\nGundulfus) watched an opportunity to be revenged; which at\r\nlast presented itself on this occasion: A day was appointed for\r\nGundulfus\u2019s being admitted into holy orders at a place remote\r\nfrom his father\u2019s habitation; he therefore orders the servants to\r\ncall him at first cock-crowing, which the cock overhearing did\r\nnot crow at all that morning. So Gundulfus overslept himself,\r\nand was thereby disappointed of his ordination, the office being\r\nquite finished before he came to the place.\u201d Wireker\u2019s satire was\r\namong the most celebrated and popular Latin poems of the\r\nMiddle Ages. The Ass was probably as Tyrwhitt suggests,\r\ncalled \u201cBurnel\u201d or \u201cBrunel,\u201d from his brown colour; as, a little\r\nbelow, a reddish fox is called \u201cRussel.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. Flattour: flatterer; French, \u201cflatteur.\u201d\r\n\r\n31. Losengeour: deceiver, cozener; the word had analogues in\r\nthe French \u201closengier,\u201d and the Spanish \u201clisongero.\u201d It is\r\nprobably connected with \u201cleasing,\u201d falsehood; which has been\r\nderived from Anglo-Saxon \u201chlisan,\u201d to celebrate \u2014 as if it meant\r\nthe spreading of a false renown\r\n\r\n32. Dan Russel: Master Russet; a name given to the fox, from\r\nhis reddish colour.\r\n\r\n33. Geoffrey de Vinsauf was the author of a well-known\r\nmediaeval treatise on composition in various poetical styles of\r\nwhich he gave examples. Chaucer\u2019s irony is therefore directed\r\nagainst some grandiose and affected lines on the death of\r\nRichard I., intended to illustrate the pathetic style, in which\r\nFriday is addressed as \u201cO Veneris lachrymosa dies\u201d (\u201cO tearful\r\nday of Venus\u201d).\r\n\r\n34. \u201cPriamum altaria ad ipsa trementem\r\nTraxit, et in multo lapsantem sanguine nati\r\nImplicuitque comam laeva, dextraque coruscum\r\nExtulit, ac lateri capulo tenus abdidit ensem.\r\nHaec finis Priami fatorum.\u201d\r\n(\u201cHe dragged Priam trembling to his own altar, slipping on the\r\nblood of his child; He took his hair in his left hand, and with the\r\nright drew the flashing sword, and hid it to the hilt [in his body].\r\nThus an end was made of Priam\u201d)\r\n\u2014 Virgil, Aeneid. ii. 550.\r\n\r\n35. Jack Straw: The leader of a Kentish rising, in the reign of\r\nRichard II, in 1381, by which the Flemish merchants in London\r\nwere great sufferers.\r\n\r\n36. Beams: trumpets; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cbema.\u201d\r\n\r\n37. \u201cAll scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is\r\nprofitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for\r\ninstruction in righteousness: that the man of God may be\r\nperfect, throughly furnished unto all good works.\u201d \u2014 2 Tim. iii.\r\n16.\r\n\r\nTHE EPILOGUE <1>\r\n\r\n\u201cSir Nunne\u2019s Priest,\u201d our hoste said anon,\r\n\u201cY-blessed be thy breech, and every stone;\r\nThis was a merry tale of Chanticleer.\r\nBut by my truth, if thou wert seculere,*                       *a layman\r\nThou wouldest be a treadefowl* aright;                             *cock\r\nFor if thou have courage as thou hast might,\r\nThee were need of hennes, as I ween,\r\nYea more than seven times seventeen.\r\nSee, whate brawnes* hath this gentle priest,            *muscles, sinews\r\nSo great a neck, and such a large breast\r\nHe looketh as a sperhawk with his eyen\r\nHim needeth not his colour for to dyen\r\nWith Brazil, nor with grain of Portugale.\r\nBut, Sir, faire fall you for your tale\u2019.\u201d\r\nAnd, after that, he with full merry cheer\r\nSaid to another, as ye shall hear.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Epilogue to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1.  The sixteen lines appended to the Tale of the Nun\u2019s Priest\r\nseem, as Tyrwhitt observes, to commence the prologue to the\r\nsucceeding Tale \u2014 but the difficulty is to determine which that\r\nTale should be. In earlier editions, the lines formed the opening\r\nof the prologue to the Manciple\u2019s Tale; but most of the\r\nmanuscripts acknowledge themselves defective in this part, and\r\ngive the Nun\u2019s Tale after that of the Nun\u2019s Priest. In the Harleian\r\nmanuscript, followed by Mr Wright, the second Nun\u2019s Tale, and\r\nthe Canon\u2019s Yeoman\u2019s Tale, are placed after the Franklin\u2019s tale;\r\nand the sixteen lines above are not found \u2014 the Manciple\u2019s\r\nprologue coming immediately after the \u201cAmen\u201d of the Nun\u2019s\r\nPriest. In two manuscripts, the last line of the sixteen runs thus:\r\n\u201cSaid unto the Nun as ye shall hear;\u201d and six lines more\r\nevidently forged, are given to introduce the Nun\u2019s Tale.  All this\r\nconfusion and doubt only strengthen the certainty, and deepen\r\nthe regret, that \u201cThe Canterbury Tales\u201d were left at Chaucer\u2019s,\r\ndeath not merely very imperfect as a whole, but destitute of\r\nmany finishing touches that would have made them complete so\r\nfar as the conception had actually been carried into\r\nperformance.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE SECOND NUN\u2019S TALE <1>\r\n\r\n\r\nThe minister and norice* unto vices,                              *nurse\r\nWhich that men call in English idleness,\r\nThe porter at the gate is of delices;*                         *delights\r\nT\u2019eschew, and by her contrar\u2019 her oppress, \u2014\r\nThat is to say, by lawful business,* \u2014            *occupation, activity\r\nWell oughte we to *do our all intent*                  *apply ourselves*\r\nLest that the fiend through idleness us hent.*                    *seize\r\n\r\nFor he, that with his thousand cordes sly\r\nContinually us waiteth to beclap,*                       *entangle, bind\r\nWhen he may man in idleness espy,\r\nHe can so lightly catch him in his trap,\r\nTill that a man be hent* right by the lappe,**              *seize **hem\r\nHe is not ware the fiend hath him in hand;\r\nWell ought we work, and idleness withstand.\r\n\r\nAnd though men dreaded never for to die,\r\nYet see men well by reason, doubteless,\r\nThat idleness is root of sluggardy,\r\nOf which there cometh never good increase;\r\nAnd see that sloth them holdeth in a leas,*                   *leash <2>\r\nOnly to sleep, and for to eat and drink,\r\nAnd to devouren all that others swink.*                          *labour\r\n\r\nAnd, for to put us from such idleness,\r\nThat cause is of so great confusion,\r\nI have here done my faithful business,\r\nAfter the Legend, in translation\r\nRight of thy glorious life and passion, \u2014\r\nThou with thy garland wrought of rose and lily,\r\nThee mean I, maid and martyr, Saint Cecilie.\r\n\r\nAnd thou, thou art the flow\u2019r of virgins all,\r\nOf whom that Bernard list so well to write, <3>\r\nTo thee at my beginning first I call;\r\nThou comfort of us wretches, do me indite\r\nThy maiden\u2019s death, that won through her merite\r\nTh\u2019 eternal life, and o\u2019er the fiend victory,\r\nAs man may after readen in her story.\r\n\r\nThou maid and mother, daughter of thy Son,\r\nThou well of mercy, sinful soules\u2019 cure,\r\nIn whom that God of bounte chose to won;*                         *dwell\r\nThou humble and high o\u2019er every creature,\r\nThou nobilest, *so far forth our nature,*  *as far as our nature admits*\r\nThat no disdain the Maker had of kind,*                          *nature\r\nHis Son in blood and flesh to clothe and wind.*                    *wrap\r\n\r\nWithin the cloister of thy blissful sides\r\nTook manne\u2019s shape th\u2019 eternal love and peace,\r\nThat of *the trine compass* Lord and guide is              *the trinity*\r\nWhom earth, and sea, and heav\u2019n, *out of release,*          *unceasingly\r\n*Aye hery;* and thou, Virgin wemmeless,*    *forever praise* *immaculate\r\nBare of thy body, and dweltest maiden pure,\r\nThe Creator of every creature.\r\n\r\nAssembled is in thee magnificence <4>\r\nWith mercy, goodness, and with such pity,\r\nThat thou, that art the sun of excellence,\r\nNot only helpest them that pray to thee,\r\nBut oftentime, of thy benignity,\r\nFull freely, ere that men thine help beseech,\r\nThou go\u2019st before, and art their lives\u2019 leech.*        *healer, saviour.\r\n\r\nNow help, thou meek and blissful faire maid,\r\nMe, flemed* wretch, in this desert of gall;           *banished, outcast\r\nThink on the woman Cananee that said\r\nThat whelpes eat some of the crumbes all\r\nThat from their Lorde\u2019s table be y-fall;<5>\r\nAnd though that I, unworthy son of Eve,<6>\r\nBe sinful, yet accepte my believe.*                               *faith\r\n\r\nAnd, for that faith is dead withoute werkes,\r\nFor to worke give me wit and space,\r\nThat I be *quit from thennes that most derk is;*    *freed from the most\r\nO thou, that art so fair and full of grace,           dark place (Hell)*\r\nBe thou mine advocate in that high place,\r\nWhere as withouten end is sung Osanne,\r\nThou Christe\u2019s mother, daughter dear of Anne.\r\n\r\nAnd of thy light my soul in prison light,\r\nThat troubled is by the contagion\r\nOf my body, and also by the weight\r\nOf earthly lust and false affection;\r\nO hav\u2019n of refuge, O salvation\r\nOf them that be in sorrow and distress,\r\nNow help, for to my work I will me dress.\r\n\r\nYet pray I you, that reade what I write, <6>\r\nForgive me that I do no diligence\r\nThis ilke* story subtilly t\u2019 indite.                               *same\r\nFor both have I the wordes and sentence\r\nOf him that at the sainte\u2019s reverence\r\nThe story wrote, and follow her legend;\r\nAnd pray you that you will my work amend.\r\n\r\nFirst will I you the name of Saint Cecilie\r\nExpound, as men may in her story see.\r\nIt is to say in English, Heaven\u2019s lily,<7>\r\nFor pure chasteness of virginity;\r\nOr, for she whiteness had of honesty,*                           *purity\r\nAnd green of conscience, and of good fame\r\nThe sweete savour, Lilie was her name.\r\n\r\nOr Cecilie is to say, the way of blind;<7>\r\nFor she example was by good teaching;\r\nOr else Cecilie, as I written find,\r\nIs joined by a manner conjoining\r\nOf heaven and Lia, <7> and herein figuring\r\nThe heaven is set for thought of holiness,\r\nAnd Lia for her lasting business.\r\n\r\nCecilie may eke be said in this mannere,\r\nWanting of blindness, for her greate light\r\nOf sapience, and for her thewes* clear.                       *qualities\r\nOr elles, lo, this maiden\u2019s name bright\r\nOf heaven and Leos <7> comes, for which by right\r\nMen might her well the heaven of people call,\r\nExample of good and wise workes all;\r\n\r\nFor Leos people in English is to say;\r\nAnd right as men may in the heaven see\r\nThe sun and moon, and starres every way,\r\nRight so men ghostly,* in this maiden free,                 *spiritually\r\nSawen of faith the magnanimity,\r\nAnd eke the clearness whole of sapience,\r\nAnd sundry workes bright of excellence.\r\n\r\nAnd right so as these philosophers write,\r\nThat heav\u2019n is swift and round, and eke burning,\r\nRight so was faire Cecilie the white\r\nFull swift and busy in every good working,\r\nAnd round and whole in good persevering, <8>\r\nAnd burning ever in charity full bright;\r\nNow have I you declared *what she hight.*         *why she had her name*\r\n\r\nThis maiden bright Cecile, as her life saith,\r\nWas come of Romans, and of noble kind,\r\nAnd from her cradle foster\u2019d in the faith\r\nOf Christ, and bare his Gospel in her mind:\r\nShe never ceased, as I written find,\r\nOf her prayere, and God to love and dread,\r\nBeseeching him to keep her maidenhead.\r\n\r\nAnd when this maiden should unto a man\r\nY-wedded be, that was full young of age,\r\nWhich that y-called was Valerian,\r\nAnd come was the day of marriage,\r\nShe, full devout and humble in her corage,*                       *heart\r\nUnder her robe of gold, that sat full fair,\r\nHad next her flesh y-clad her in an hair.*        *garment of hair-cloth\r\n\r\nAnd while the organs made melody,\r\nTo God alone thus in her heart sang she;\r\n\u201cO Lord, my soul and eke my body gie*                             *guide\r\nUnwemmed,* lest that I confounded be.\u201d                      *unblemished\r\nAnd, for his love that died upon the tree,\r\nEvery second or third day she fast\u2019,\r\nAye bidding* in her orisons full fast.                          *praying\r\n\r\nThe night came, and to bedde must she gon\r\nWith her husband, as it is the mannere;\r\nAnd privily she said to him anon;\r\n\u201cO sweet and well-beloved spouse dear,\r\nThere is a counsel,* an\u2019** ye will it hear,                 *secret **if\r\nWhich that right fain I would unto you say,\r\nSo that ye swear ye will it not bewray.\u201d*                        *betray\r\n\r\nValerian gan fast unto her swear\r\nThat for no case nor thing that mighte be,\r\nHe never should to none bewrayen her;\r\nAnd then at erst* thus to him saide she;             *for the first time\r\n\u201cI have an angel which that loveth me,\r\nThat with great love, whether I wake or sleep,\r\nIs ready aye my body for to keep;\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd if that he may feelen, *out of dread,*              *without doubt*\r\nThat ye me touch or love in villainy,\r\nHe right anon will slay you with the deed,\r\nAnd in your youthe thus ye shoulde die.\r\nAnd if that ye in cleane love me gie,\u201d*                           *guide\r\nHe will you love as me, for your cleanness,\r\nAnd shew to you his joy and his brightness.\u201d\r\n\r\nValerian, corrected as God wo\u2019ld,\r\nAnswer\u2019d again, \u201cIf I shall truste thee,\r\nLet me that angel see, and him behold;\r\nAnd if that it a very angel be,\r\nThen will I do as thou hast prayed me;\r\nAnd if thou love another man, forsooth\r\nRight with this sword then will I slay you both.\u201d\r\n\r\nCecile answer\u2019d anon right in this wise;\r\n\u201cIf that you list, the angel shall ye see,\r\nSo that ye trow* Of Christ, and you baptise;                       *know\r\nGo forth to Via Appia,\u201d quoth she,\r\nThat from this towne stands but miles three,\r\nAnd to the poore folkes that there dwell\r\nSay them right thus, as that I shall you tell,\r\n\r\n\u201cTell them, that I, Cecile, you to them sent\r\nTo shewe you the good Urban the old,\r\nFor secret needes,* and for good intent;                       *business\r\nAnd when that ye Saint Urban have behold,\r\nTell him the wordes which I to you told\r\nAnd when that he hath purged you from sin,\r\nThen shall ye see that angel ere ye twin*                        *depart\r\n\r\nValerian is to the place gone;\r\nAnd, right as he was taught by her learning\r\nHe found this holy old Urban anon\r\nAmong the saintes\u2019 burials louting;*                *lying concealed <9>\r\nAnd he anon, withoute tarrying,\r\nDid his message, and when that he it told,\r\nUrban for joy his handes gan uphold.\r\n\r\nThe teares from his eyen let he fall;\r\n\u201cAlmighty Lord, O Jesus Christ,\u201d\r\nQuoth he, \u201cSower of chaste counsel, herd* of us all;           *shepherd\r\nThe fruit of thilke* seed of chastity                              *that\r\nThat thou hast sown in Cecile, take to thee\r\nLo, like a busy bee, withoute guile,\r\nThee serveth aye thine owen thrall* Cicile,                     *servant\r\n\r\n\u201cFor thilke spouse, that she took *but now,*                    *lately*\r\nFull like a fierce lion, she sendeth here,\r\nAs meek as e\u2019er was any lamb to owe.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word anon there gan appear\r\nAn old man, clad in white clothes clear,\r\nThat had a book with letters of gold in hand,\r\nAnd gan before Valerian to stand.\r\n\r\nValerian, as dead, fell down for dread,\r\nWhen he him saw; and he up hent* him tho,**                *took **there\r\nAnd on his book right thus he gan to read;\r\n\u201cOne Lord, one faith, one God withoute mo\u2019,\r\nOne Christendom, one Father of all also,\r\nAboven all, and over all everywhere.\u201d\r\nThese wordes all with gold y-written were.\r\n\r\nWhen this was read, then said this olde man,\r\n\u201cBeliev\u2019st thou this or no? say yea or nay.\u201d\r\n\u201cI believe all this,\u201d quoth Valerian,\r\n\u201cFor soother* thing than this, I dare well say,                   *truer\r\nUnder the Heaven no wight thinke may.\u201d\r\nThen vanish\u2019d the old man, he wist not where\r\nAnd Pope Urban him christened right there.\r\n\r\nValerian went home, and found Cecilie\r\nWithin his chamber with an angel stand;\r\nThis angel had of roses and of lily\r\nCorones* two, the which he bare in hand,                         *crowns\r\nAnd first to Cecile, as I understand,\r\nHe gave the one, and after gan he take\r\nThe other to Valerian her make.*                          *mate, husband\r\n\r\n\u201cWith body clean, and with unwemmed* thought,      *unspotted, blameless\r\nKeep aye well these corones two,\u201d quoth he;\r\n\u201cFrom Paradise to you I have them brought,\r\nNor ever more shall they rotten be,\r\nNor lose their sweet savour, truste me,\r\nNor ever wight shall see them with his eye,\r\nBut he be chaste, and hate villainy.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd thou, Valerian, for thou so soon\r\nAssented hast to good counsel, also\r\nSay what thee list,* and thou shalt have thy boon.\u201d**     *wish **desire\r\n\u201cI have a brother,\u201d quoth Valerian tho,*                           *then\r\n\u201cThat in this world I love no man so;\r\nI pray you that my brother may have grace\r\nTo know the truth, as I do in this place.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe angel said, \u201cGod liketh thy request,\r\nAnd bothe, with the palm of martyrdom,\r\nYe shalle come unto this blissful rest.\u201d\r\nAnd, with that word, Tiburce his brother came.\r\nAnd when that he the savour undernome*                        *perceived\r\nWhich that the roses and the lilies cast,\r\nWithin his heart he gan to wonder fast;\r\n\r\nAnd said; \u201cI wonder, this time of the year,\r\nWhence that sweete savour cometh so\r\nOf rose and lilies, that I smelle here;\r\nFor though I had them in mine handes two,\r\nThe savour might in me no deeper go;\r\nThe sweete smell, that in my heart I find,\r\nHath changed me all in another kind.\u201d\r\n\r\nValerian said, \u201cTwo crownes here have we,\r\nSnow-white and rose-red, that shine clear,\r\nWhich that thine eyen have no might to see;\r\nAnd, as thou smellest them through my prayere,\r\nSo shalt thou see them, leve* brother dear,                     *beloved\r\nIf it so be thou wilt withoute sloth\r\nBelieve aright, and know the very troth. \u201c\r\n\r\nTiburce answered, \u201cSay\u2019st thou this to me\r\nIn soothness, or in dreame hear I this?\u201d\r\n\u201cIn dreames,\u201d quoth Valorian, \u201chave we be\r\nUnto this time, brother mine, y-wis\r\nBut now *at erst* in truth our dwelling is.\u201d        *for the first time*\r\nHow know\u2019st thou this,\u201d quoth Tiburce; \u201cin what wise?\u201d\r\nQuoth Valerian, \u201cThat shall I thee devise*                     *describe\r\n\r\n\u201cThe angel of God hath me the truth y-taught,\r\nWhich thou shalt see, if that thou wilt reny*                  *renounce\r\nThe idols, and be clean, and elles nought.\u201d\r\n[And of the miracle of these crownes tway\r\nSaint Ambrose in his preface list to say;\r\nSolemnely this noble doctor dear\r\nCommendeth it, and saith in this mannere\r\n\r\n\u201cThe palm of martyrdom for to receive,\r\nSaint Cecilie, full filled of God\u2019s gift,\r\nThe world and eke her chamber gan to weive;*                    *forsake\r\nWitness Tiburce\u2019s and Cecilie\u2019s shrift,*                     *confession\r\nTo which God of his bounty woulde shift\r\nCorones two, of flowers well smelling,\r\nAnd made his angel them the crownes bring.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe maid hath brought these men to bliss above;\r\nThe world hath wist what it is worth, certain,\r\nDevotion of chastity to love.\u201d] <10>\r\nThen showed him Cecilie all open and plain,\r\nThat idols all are but a thing in vain,\r\nFor they be dumb, and thereto* they be deave;**        *therefore **deaf\r\nAnd charged him his idols for to leave.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhoso that troweth* not this, a beast he is,\u201d                *believeth\r\nQuoth this Tiburce, \u201cif that I shall not lie.\u201d\r\nAnd she gan kiss his breast when she heard this,\r\nAnd was full glad he could the truth espy:\r\n\u201cThis day I take thee for mine ally.\u201d*                    *chosen friend\r\nSaide this blissful faire maiden dear;\r\nAnd after that she said as ye may hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cLo, right so as the love of Christ,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cMade me thy brother\u2019s wife, right in that wise\r\nAnon for mine ally here take I thee,\r\nSince that thou wilt thine idoles despise.\r\nGo with thy brother now and thee baptise,\r\nAnd make thee clean, so that thou may\u2019st behold\r\nThe angel\u2019s face, of which thy brother told.\u201d\r\n\r\nTiburce answer\u2019d, and saide, \u201cBrother dear,\r\nFirst tell me whither I shall, and to what man?\u201d\r\n\u201cTo whom?\u201d quoth he, \u201ccome forth with goode cheer,\r\nI will thee lead unto the Pope Urban.\u201d\r\n\u201cTo Urban? brother mine Valerian,\u201d\r\nQuoth then Tiburce; \u201cwilt thou me thither lead?\r\nMe thinketh that it were a wondrous deed.\r\n\r\n\u201cMeanest thou not that Urban,\u201d quoth he tho,*                      *then\r\n\u201cThat is so often damned to be dead,\r\nAnd wons* in halkes** always to and fro,               *dwells **corners\r\nAnd dare not ones putte forth his head?\r\nMen should him brennen* in a fire so red,                          *burn\r\nIf he were found, or if men might him spy:\r\nAnd us also, to bear him company.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd while we seeke that Divinity\r\nThat is y-hid in heaven privily,\r\nAlgate* burnt in this world should we be.\u201d                 *nevertheless\r\nTo whom Cecilie answer\u2019d boldely;\r\n\u201cMen mighte dreade well and skilfully*                       *reasonably\r\nThis life to lose, mine owen deare brother,\r\nIf this were living only, and none other.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut there is better life in other place,\r\nThat never shall be loste, dread thee nought;\r\nWhich Godde\u2019s Son us tolde through his grace\r\nThat Father\u2019s Son which alle thinges wrought;\r\nAnd all that wrought is with a skilful* thought,             *reasonable\r\nThe Ghost,* that from the Father gan proceed,               *Holy Spirit\r\nHath souled* them, withouten any drede.**      *endowed them with a soul\r\n                                                                 **doubt\r\nBy word and by miracle, high God\u2019s Son,\r\nWhen he was in this world, declared here.\r\nThat there is other life where men may won.\u201d*                     *dwell\r\nTo whom answer\u2019d Tiburce, \u201cO sister dear,\r\nSaidest thou not right now in this mannere,\r\nThere was but one God, Lord in soothfastness,*                    *truth\r\nAnd now of three how may\u2019st thou bear witness?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThat shall I tell,\u201d quoth she, \u201cere that I go.\r\nRight as a man hath sapiences* three,                  *mental faculties\r\nMemory, engine,* and intellect also,                           *wit <11>\r\nSo in one being of divinity\r\nThree persones there maye right well be.\u201d\r\nThen gan she him full busily to preach\r\nOf Christe\u2019s coming, and his paines teach,\r\n\r\nAnd many pointes of his passion;\r\nHow Godde\u2019s Son in this world was withhold*                    *employed\r\nTo do mankinde plein* remission,                                   *full\r\nThat was y-bound in sin and cares cold.*                  *wretched <12>\r\nAll this thing she unto Tiburce told,\r\nAnd after that Tiburce, in good intent,\r\nWith Valerian to Pope Urban he went.\r\n\r\nThat thanked God, and with glad heart and light\r\nHe christen\u2019d him, and made him in that place\r\nPerfect in his learning, and Godde\u2019s knight.\r\nAnd after this Tiburce got such grace,\r\nThat every day he saw in time and space\r\nTh\u2019 angel of God, and every manner boon*                *request, favour\r\nThat be God asked, it was sped* full anon.          *granted, successful\r\n\r\nIt were full hard by order for to sayn\r\nHow many wonders Jesus for them wrought,\r\nBut at the last, to telle short and plain,\r\nThe sergeants of the town of Rome them sought,\r\nAnd them before Almach the Prefect brought,\r\nWhich them apposed,* and knew all their intent,              *questioned\r\nAnd to th\u2019image of Jupiter them sent.\r\n\r\nAnd said, \u201cWhoso will not do sacrifice,\r\nSwap* off his head, this is my sentence here.\u201d                   *strike\r\nAnon these martyrs, *that I you devise,*            *of whom I tell you*\r\nOne Maximus, that was an officere\r\nOf the prefect\u2019s, and his corniculere <13>\r\nThem hent,* and when he forth the saintes lad,**           *seized **led\r\nHimself he wept for pity that he had.\r\n\r\nWhen Maximus had heard the saintes lore,*            *doctrine, teaching\r\nHe got him of the tormentores* leave,                         *torturers\r\nAnd led them to his house withoute more;\r\nAnd with their preaching, ere that it were eve,\r\nThey gonnen* from the tormentors to reave,**    *began **wrest, root out\r\nAnd from Maxim\u2019, and from his folk each one,\r\nThe false faith, to trow* in God alone.                         *believe\r\n\r\nCecilia came, when it was waxen night,\r\nWith priestes, that them christen\u2019d *all in fere;*        *in a company*\r\nAnd afterward, when day was waxen light,\r\nCecile them said with a full steadfast cheer,*                     *mien\r\n\u201cNow, Christe\u2019s owen knightes lefe* and dear,                   *beloved\r\nCast all away the workes of darkness,\r\nAnd arme you in armour of brightness.\r\n\r\nYe have forsooth y-done a great battaile,\r\nYour course is done, your faith have ye conserved; <14>\r\nO to the crown of life that may not fail;\r\nThe rightful Judge, which that ye have served\r\nShall give it you, as ye have it deserved.\u201d\r\nAnd when this thing was said, as I devise,*                       relate\r\nMen led them forth to do the sacrifice.\r\n\r\nBut when they were unto the place brought\r\nTo telle shortly the conclusion,\r\nThey would incense nor sacrifice right nought\r\nBut on their knees they sette them adown,\r\nWith humble heart and sad* devotion,                          *steadfast\r\nAnd loste both their heades in the place;\r\nTheir soules wente to the King of grace.\r\n\r\nThis Maximus, that saw this thing betide,\r\nWith piteous teares told it anon right,\r\nThat he their soules saw to heaven glide\r\nWith angels, full of clearness and of light\r\nAndt with his word converted many a wight.\r\nFor which Almachius *did him to-beat*                    *see note <15>*\r\nWith whip of lead, till he his life gan lete.*                     *quit\r\n\r\nCecile him took, and buried him anon\r\nBy Tiburce and Valerian softely,\r\nWithin their burying-place, under the stone.\r\nAnd after this Almachius hastily\r\nBade his ministers fetchen openly\r\nCecile, so that she might in his presence\r\nDo sacrifice, and Jupiter incense.*                     *burn incense to\r\n\r\nBut they, converted at her wise lore,*                         *teaching\r\nWepte full sore, and gave full credence\r\nUnto her word, and cried more and more;\r\n\u201cChrist, Godde\u2019s Son, withoute difference,\r\nIs very God, this is all our sentence,*                         *opinion\r\nThat hath so good a servant him to serve\r\nThus with one voice we trowe,* though we sterve.**        *believe **die\r\n\r\nAlmachius, that heard of this doing,\r\nBade fetch Cecilie, that he might her see;\r\nAnd alderfirst,* lo, this was his asking;                  *first of all\r\n\u201cWhat manner woman arte thou?\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cI am a gentle woman born,\u201d quoth she.\r\n\u201cI aske thee,\u201d quoth he,\u201dthough it thee grieve,\r\nOf thy religion and of thy believe.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYe have begun your question foolishly,\u201d\r\nQuoth she, \u201cthat wouldest two answers conclude\r\nIn one demand? ye aske lewedly.\u201d*                            *ignorantly\r\nAlmach answer\u2019d to that similitude,\r\n\u201cOf whence comes thine answering so rude?\u201d\r\n\u201cOf whence?\u201d quoth she, when that she was freined,*               *asked\r\n\u201cOf conscience, and of good faith unfeigned.\u201d\r\n\r\nAlmachius saide; \u201cTakest thou no heed\r\nOf my power?\u201d and she him answer\u2019d this;\r\n\u201cYour might,\u201d quoth she, \u201cfull little is to dread;\r\nFor every mortal manne\u2019s power is\r\nBut like a bladder full of wind, y-wis;*                      *certainly\r\nFor with a needle\u2019s point, when it is blow\u2019,\r\nMay all the boast of it be laid full low.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cFull wrongfully begunnest thou,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cAnd yet in wrong is thy perseverance.\r\nKnow\u2019st thou not how our mighty princes free\r\nHave thus commanded and made ordinance,\r\nThat every Christian wight shall have penance,*              *punishment\r\nBut if that he his Christendom withsay,*                           *deny\r\nAnd go all quit, if he will it renay?\u201d*                        *renounce\r\n\r\n\u201cYour princes erren, as your nobley* doth,\u201d                    *nobility\r\nQuoth then Cecile, \u201cand with a *wood sentence*            *mad judgment*\r\nYe make us guilty, and it is not sooth:*                           *true\r\nFor ye that knowe well our innocence,\r\nForasmuch as we do aye reverence\r\nTo Christ, and for we bear a Christian name,\r\nYe put on us a crime and eke a blame.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut we that knowe thilke name so\r\nFor virtuous, we may it not withsay.\u201d\r\nAlmach answered, \u201cChoose one of these two,\r\nDo sacrifice, or Christendom renay,\r\nThat thou may\u2019st now escape by that way.\u201d\r\nAt which the holy blissful faire maid\r\nGan for to laugh, and to the judge said;\r\n\r\n\u201cO judge, *confused in thy nicety,*            *confounded in thy folly*\r\nWouldest thou that I reny innocence?\r\nTo make me a wicked wight,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cLo, he dissimuleth* here in audience;                       *dissembles\r\nHe stareth and woodeth* in his advertence.\u201d**   *grows furious **thought\r\nTo whom Almachius said, \u201cUnsely* wretch,                        *unhappy\r\nKnowest thou not how far my might may stretch?\r\n\r\n\u201cHave not our mighty princes to me given\r\nYea bothe power and eke authority\r\nTo make folk to dien or to liven?\r\nWhy speakest thou so proudly then to me?\u201d\r\n\u201cI speake not but steadfastly,\u201d quoth she,\r\nNot proudly, for I say, as for my side,\r\nWe hate deadly* thilke vice of pride.                          *mortally\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, if thou dreade not a sooth* to hear,                        *truth\r\nThen will I shew all openly by right,\r\nThat thou hast made a full great leasing* here.               *falsehood\r\nThou say\u2019st thy princes have thee given might\r\nBoth for to slay and for to quick* a wight, \u2014             *give life to\r\nThou that may\u2019st not but only life bereave;\r\nThou hast none other power nor no leave.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut thou may\u2019st say, thy princes have thee maked\r\nMinister of death; for if thou speak of mo\u2019,\r\nThou liest; for thy power is full naked.\u201d\r\n\u201cDo away thy boldness,\u201d said Almachius tho,*                       *then\r\n\u201cAnd sacrifice to our gods, ere thou go.\r\nI recke not what wrong that thou me proffer,\r\nFor I can suffer it as a philosopher.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut those wronges may I not endure,\r\nThat thou speak\u2019st of our goddes here,\u201d quoth he.\r\nCecile answer\u2019d, \u201cO nice* creature,                             *foolish\r\nThou saidest no word, since thou spake to me,\r\nThat I knew not therewith thy nicety,*                            *folly\r\nAnd that thou wert in *every manner wise*            *every sort of way*\r\nA lewed* officer, a vain justice.                              *ignorant\r\n\r\n\u201cThere lacketh nothing to thine outward eyen\r\nThat thou art blind; for thing that we see all\r\nThat it is stone, that men may well espyen,\r\nThat ilke* stone a god thou wilt it call.                *very, selfsame\r\nI rede* thee let thine hand upon it fall,                        *advise\r\nAnd taste* it well, and stone thou shalt it find;         *examine, test\r\nSince that thou see\u2019st not with thine eyen blind.\r\n\r\n\u201cIt is a shame that the people shall\r\nSo scorne thee, and laugh at thy folly;\r\nFor commonly men *wot it well over all,*            *know it everywhere*\r\nThat mighty God is in his heaven high;\r\nAnd these images, well may\u2019st thou espy,\r\nTo thee nor to themselves may not profite,\r\nFor in effect they be not worth a mite.\u201d\r\n\r\nThese wordes and such others saide she,\r\nAnd he wax\u2019d wroth, and bade men should her lead\r\nHome to her house; \u201cAnd in her house,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cBurn her right in a bath, with flames red.\u201d\r\nAnd as he bade, right so was done the deed;\r\nFor in a bath they gan her faste shetten,*                *shut, confine\r\nAnd night and day great fire they under betten.*       *kindled, applied\r\n\r\nThe longe night, and eke a day also,\r\nFor all the fire, and eke the bathe\u2019s heat,\r\nShe sat all cold, and felt of it no woe,\r\nIt made her not one droppe for to sweat;\r\nBut in that bath her life she must lete.*                         *leave\r\nFor he, Almachius, with full wick\u2019 intent,\r\nTo slay her in the bath his sonde* sent.                 *message, order\r\n\r\nThree strokes in the neck he smote her tho,*                      *there\r\nThe tormentor,* but for no manner chance                    *executioner\r\nHe might not smite her faire neck in two:\r\nAnd, for there was that time an ordinance\r\nThat no man should do man such penance,*              *severity, torture\r\nThe fourthe stroke to smite, soft or sore,\r\nThis tormentor he durste do no more;\r\n\r\nBut half dead, with her necke carven* there                      *gashed\r\nHe let her lie, and on his way is went.\r\nThe Christian folk, which that about her were,\r\nWith sheetes have the blood full fair y-hent;                  *taken up\r\nThree dayes lived she in this torment,\r\nAnd never ceased them the faith to teach,\r\nThat she had foster\u2019d them, she gan to preach.\r\n\r\nAnd them she gave her mebles* and her thing,                      *goods\r\nAnd to the Pope Urban betook* them tho;**              *commended **then\r\nAnd said, \u201cI aske this of heaven\u2019s king,\r\nTo have respite three dayes and no mo\u2019,\r\nTo recommend to you, ere that I go,\r\nThese soules, lo; and that *I might do wirch*         *cause to be made*\r\nHere of mine house perpetually a church.\u201d\r\n\r\nSaint Urban, with his deacons, privily\r\nThe body fetch\u2019d, and buried it by night\r\nAmong his other saintes honestly;\r\nHer house the church of Saint Cecilie hight;*                 *is called\r\nSaint Urban hallow\u2019d it, as he well might;\r\nIn which unto this day, in noble wise,\r\nMen do to Christ and to his saint service.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1.  This Tale was originally composed by Chaucer as a separate\r\nwork, and as such it is mentioned in the \u201cLegend of Good\r\nWomen\u201d under the title of \u201cThe Life of Saint Cecile\u201d.  Tyrwhitt\r\nquotes the line in which the author calls himself an \u201cunworthy\r\nson of Eve,\u201d and that in which he says, \u201cYet pray I you, that\r\nreade what I write\u201d, as internal evidence that the insertion of the\r\npoem in the Canterbury Tales was the result of an afterthought;\r\nwhile the whole tenor of the introduction confirms the belief\r\nthat Chaucer composed it as a writer or translator \u2014 not,\r\ndramatically, as a speaker. The story is almost literally\r\ntranslated from the Life of St Cecilia in the \u201cLegenda Aurea.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. Leas: leash, snare; the same as \u201clas,\u201d oftener used by\r\nChaucer.\r\n\r\n3. The nativity and assumption of the Virgin Mary formed the\r\nthemes of some of St Bernard\u2019s most eloquent sermons.\r\n\r\n4. Compare with this stanza the fourth stanza of the Prioress\u2019s\r\nTale, the substance of which is the same.\r\n\r\n5. \u201cBut he answered and said, it is not meet to take the\r\nchildren\u2019s bread, and cast it to dogs.  And she said, Truth, Lord:\r\nyet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their master\u2019s\r\ntable.\u201d \u2014  Matthew xv. 26, 27.\r\n\r\n6.  See note 1.\r\n\r\n7. These are Latin puns: Heaven\u2019s lily - \u201cCoeli lilium\u201d; The way\r\nof blind - \u201cCaeci via\u201d;  Heaven and Lia - from \u201cCoeli\u201d, heaven,\r\nand \u201cLigo,\u201d to bind; Heaven and Leos - from Coeli and \u201cLaos,\u201d\r\n(Ionian Greek) or \u201cLeos\u201d (Attic Greek), the people. Such\r\npunning derivations of proper names were very much in favour\r\nin the Middle Ages. The explanations of St Cecilia\u2019s name are\r\nliterally taken from the prologue to the Latin legend.\r\n\r\n8. This passage suggests Horace\u2019s description of the wise man,\r\nwho, among other things, is \u201cin se ipse totus, teres, atque\r\nrotundus.\u201d (\u201ccomplete in himself, polished and rounded\u201d) \u2014\r\nSatires, 2, vii. 80.\r\n\r\n9. Louting: lingering, or lying concealed; the Latin original has\r\n\u201cInter sepulchra martyrum latiantem\u201d (\u201chiding among the tombs\r\nof martyrs\u201d)\r\n\r\n10.  The fourteen lines within brackets are supposed to have\r\nbeen originally an interpolation in the Latin legend, from which\r\nthey are literally translated. They awkwardly interrupt the flow\r\nof the narration.\r\n\r\n11. Engine: wit; the devising or constructive faculty; Latin,\r\n\u201cingenium.\u201d\r\n\r\n12. Cold: wretched, distressful; see note 22 to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n13. Corniculere:  The secretary or registrar who was charged\r\nwith publishing the acts, decrees and orders of the prefect.\r\n\r\n14. \u201cI have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I\r\nhave kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown\r\nof righteousness\u201d \u2014 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8.\r\n\r\n15. Did him to-beat:  Caused him to be cruelly or fatally beaten;\r\nthe force of the \u201cto\u201d is intensive.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE CANON\u2019S YEOMAN\u2019S TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nWHEN ended was the life of Saint Cecile,\r\nEre we had ridden fully five mile, <2>\r\nAt Boughton-under-Blee us gan o\u2019ertake\r\nA man, that clothed was in clothes black,\r\nAnd underneath he wore a white surplice.\r\nHis hackenay,* which was all pomely-gris,**           *nag **dapple-gray\r\nSo sweated, that it wonder was to see;\r\nIt seem\u2019d as he had pricked* miles three.                       *spurred\r\nThe horse eke that his yeoman rode upon\r\nSo sweated, that unnethes* might he gon.**                  *hardly **go\r\nAbout the peytrel <3> stood the foam full high;\r\nHe was of foam, as *flecked as a pie.*           *spotted like a magpie*\r\nA maile twyfold <4> on his crupper lay;\r\nIt seemed that he carried little array;\r\nAll light for summer rode this worthy man.\r\nAnd in my heart to wonder I began\r\nWhat that he was, till that I understood\r\nHow that his cloak was sewed to his hood;\r\nFor which, when I had long advised* me,                      *considered\r\nI deemed him some Canon for to be.\r\nHis hat hung at his back down by a lace,*                          *cord\r\nFor he had ridden more than trot or pace;\r\nHe hadde pricked like as he were wood.*                             *mad\r\nA clote-leaf* he had laid  under his hood,                * burdock-leaf\r\nFor sweat, and for to keep his head from heat.\r\nBut it was joye for to see him sweat;\r\nHis forehead dropped as a stillatory*                             *still\r\nWere full of plantain or of paritory.*                       *wallflower\r\nAnd when that he was come, he gan to cry,\r\n\u201cGod save,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthis jolly company.\r\nFast have I pricked,\u201d quoth he, \u201cfor your sake,\r\nBecause that I would you overtake,\r\nTo riden in this merry company.\u201d\r\nHis Yeoman was eke full of courtesy,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cSirs, now in the morning tide\r\nOut of your hostelry I saw you ride,\r\nAnd warned here my lord and sovereign,\r\nWhich that to ride with you is full fain,\r\nFor his disport; he loveth dalliance.\u201d\r\n\u201cFriend, for thy warning God give thee good chance,\u201d*           *fortune\r\nSaid oure Host; \u201ccertain it woulde seem\r\nThy lord were wise, and so I may well deem;\r\nHe is full jocund also, dare I lay;\r\nCan he aught tell a merry tale or tway,\r\nWith which he gladden may this company?\u201d\r\n\u201cWho, Sir? my lord? Yea, Sir, withoute lie,\r\nHe can* of mirth and eke of jollity                               *knows\r\n*Not but* enough; also, Sir, truste me,                  *not less than*\r\nAn* ye him knew all so well as do I,                                 *if\r\nYe would wonder how well and craftily\r\nHe coulde work, and that in sundry wise.\r\nHe hath take on him many a great emprise,*            *task, undertaking\r\nWhich were full hard for any that is here\r\nTo bring about, but* they of him it lear.**              *unless **learn\r\nAs homely as he rides amonges you,\r\nIf ye him knew, it would be for your prow:*                   *advantage\r\nYe woulde not forego his acquaintance\r\nFor muche good, I dare lay in balance\r\nAll that I have in my possession.\r\nHe is a man of high discretion.\r\nI warn you well, he is a passing* man.\u201d       *surpassing, extraordinary\r\nWell,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201cI pray thee tell me than,\r\nIs he a clerk,* or no? Tell what he is.\u201d                *scholar, priest\r\n\u201cNay, he is greater than a clerk, y-wis,\u201d*                    *certainly\r\nSaide this Yeoman; \u201cand, in wordes few,\r\nHost, of his craft somewhat I will you shew,\r\nI say, my lord can* such a subtlety                               *knows\r\n(But all his craft ye may not weet* of me,                        *learn\r\nAnd somewhat help I yet to his working),\r\nThat all the ground on which we be riding\r\nTill that we come to Canterbury town,\r\nHe could all cleane turnen up so down,\r\nAnd pave it all of silver and of gold.\u201d\r\nAnd when this Yeoman had this tale told\r\nUnto our Host, he said; \u201cBen\u2019dicite!\r\nThis thing is wonder marvellous to me,\r\nSince that thy lord is of so high prudence,\r\nBecause of which men should him reverence,\r\nThat of his worship* recketh he so lite;**              *honour **little\r\nHis *overest slop* it is not worth a mite                *upper garment*\r\nAs in effect to him, so may I go;\r\nIt is all baudy* and to-tore also.                             *slovenly\r\nWhy is thy lord so sluttish, I thee pray,\r\nAnd is of power better clothes to bey,*                             *buy\r\nIf that his deed accordeth with thy speech?\r\nTelle me that, and that I thee beseech.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhy?\u201d quoth this Yeoman, \u201cwhereto ask ye me?\r\nGod help me so, for he shall never the*                          *thrive\r\n(But I will not avowe* that I say,                                *admit\r\nAnd therefore keep it secret, I you pray);\r\nHe is too wise, in faith, as I believe.\r\nThing that is overdone, it will not preve*               *stand the test\r\nAright, as clerkes say; it is a vice;\r\nWherefore in that I hold him *lewd and nice.\u201d*    *ignorant and foolish*\r\nFor when a man hath over great a wit,\r\nFull oft him happens to misusen it;\r\nSo doth my lord, and that me grieveth sore.\r\nGod it amend; I can say now no more.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThereof *no force,* good Yeoman, \u201cquoth our Host;           *no matter*\r\n\u201cSince of the conning* of thy lord, thou know\u2019st,             *knowledge\r\nTell how he doth, I pray thee heartily,\r\nSince that be is so crafty and so sly.*                            *wise\r\nWhere dwelle ye, if it to telle be?\u201d\r\n\u201cIn the suburbes of a town,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cLurking in hernes* and in lanes blind,                         *corners\r\nWhere as these robbers and these thieves by kind*                *nature\r\nHolde their privy fearful residence,\r\nAs they that dare not show their presence,\r\nSo fare we, if I shall say the soothe.\u201d*                          *truth\r\n\u201cYet,\u201d quoth our Hoste, \u201clet me talke to thee;\r\nWhy art thou so discolour\u2019d of thy face?\u201d\r\n\u201cPeter!\u201d quoth he, \u201cGod give it harde grace,\r\nI am so us\u2019d the hote fire to blow,\r\nThat it hath changed my colour, I trow;\r\nI am not wont in no mirror to pry,\r\nBut swinke* sore, and learn to multiply. <5>                     *labour\r\nWe blunder* ever, and poren** in the fire,                  *toil **peer\r\nAnd, for all that, we fail of our desire\r\nFor ever we lack our conclusion\r\nTo muche folk we do illusion,\r\nAnd borrow gold, be it a pound or two,\r\nOr ten or twelve, or many summes mo\u2019,\r\nAnd make them weenen,* at the leaste way,                         *fancy\r\nThat of a pounde we can make tway.\r\nYet is it false; and aye we have good hope\r\nIt for to do, and after it we grope:*                    *search, strive\r\nBut that science is so far us beforn,\r\nThat we may not, although we had it sworn,\r\nIt overtake, it slides away so fast;\r\nIt will us make beggars at the last.\u201d\r\nWhile this Yeoman was thus in his talking,\r\nThis Canon drew him near, and heard all thing\r\nWhich this Yeoman spake, for suspicion\r\nOf menne\u2019s speech ever had this Canon:\r\nFor Cato saith, that he that guilty is, <6>\r\nDeemeth all things be spoken of him y-wis;*                      *surely\r\nBecause of that he gan so nigh to draw\r\nTo his Yeoman, that he heard all his saw;\r\nAnd thus he said unto his Yeoman tho*                              *then\r\n\u201cHold thou thy peace,and speak no wordes mo\u2019:\r\nFor if thou do, thou shalt *it dear abie.*           *pay dearly for it*\r\nThou slanderest me here in this company\r\nAnd eke discoverest that thou shouldest hide.\u201d\r\n\u201cYea,\u201d quoth our Host, \u201ctell on, whatso betide;\r\nOf all his threatening reck not a mite.\u201d\r\n\u201cIn faith,\u201d quoth he, \u201cno more do I but lite.\u201d*                  *little\r\nAnd when this Canon saw it would not be\r\nBut his Yeoman would tell his privity,*                         *secrets\r\nHe fled away for very sorrow and shame.\r\n\r\n\u201cAh!\u201d quoth the Yeoman, \u201chere shall rise a game;*        *some diversion\r\nAll that I can anon I will you tell,\r\nSince he is gone; the foule fiend him quell!*                   *destroy\r\nFor ne\u2019er hereafter will I with him meet,\r\nFor penny nor for pound, I you behete.*                         *promise\r\nHe that me broughte first unto that game,\r\nEre that he die, sorrow have he and shame.\r\nFor it is earnest* to me, by my faith;                 *a serious matter\r\nThat feel I well, what so any man saith;\r\nAnd yet for all my smart, and all my grief,\r\nFor all my sorrow, labour, and mischief,*                       *trouble\r\nI coulde never leave it in no wise.\r\nNow would to God my witte might suffice\r\nTo tellen all that longeth to that art!\r\nBut natheless yet will I telle part;\r\nSince that my lord is gone, I will not spare;\r\nSuch thing as that I know, I will declare.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Canon\u2019s Yeoman\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. \u201cThe introduction,\u201d says Tyrwhitt, \u201cof the Canon\u2019s\r\nYeoman to tell a Tale at a time when so many of the original\r\ncharacters remain to be called upon, appears a little\r\nextraordinary. It should seem that some sudden resentment\r\nhad determined Chaucer to interrupt the regular course of his\r\nwork, in order to insert a satire against the alchemists. That\r\ntheir pretended science was much cultivated about this time,\r\nand produced its usual evils, may fairly be inferred from the\r\nAct, which was passed soon after, 5 H. IV. c. iv., to make it\r\nfelony \u2018to multiply gold or silver, or to use the art of\r\nmultiplication.\u2019\u201d Tyrwhitt finds in the prologue some colour\r\nfor the hypothesis that this Tale was intended by Chaucer to\r\nbegin the return journey from Canterbury; but against this\r\nmust be set the fact that the Yeoman himself expressly speaks\r\nof the distance to Canterbury yet to be ridden.\r\n\r\n2. Fully five mile:  From some place which the loss of the\r\nSecond Nun\u2019s Prologue does not enable us to identify.\r\n\r\n3. Peytrel: the breast-plate of a horse\u2019s harness; French,\r\n\u201cpoitrail.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. A maile twyfold:  a double valise; a wallet hanging across\r\nthe crupper on either side of the horse.\r\n\r\n5. Multiply:  transmute metals, in the attempt to multiply gold\r\nand silver by alchemy.\r\n\r\n6. \u201cConscius ipse sibi de se putat omnia dici\u201d (\u201cThe\r\nconspirator believes that everything spoken refers to himself\u201d)\r\n\u2014 \u201cDe Moribus,\u201d I. i. dist. 17.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nWith this Canon I dwelt have seven year,\r\nAnd of his science am I ne\u2019er the near*                          *nearer\r\nAll that I had I have lost thereby,\r\nAnd, God wot, so have many more than I.\r\nWhere I was wont to be right fresh and gay\r\nOf clothing, and of other good array\r\nNow may I wear an hose upon mine head;\r\nAnd where my colour was both fresh and red,\r\nNow is it wan, and of a leaden hue\r\n(Whoso it useth, sore shall he it rue);\r\nAnd of my swink* yet bleared is mine eye;                        *labour\r\nLo what advantage is to multiply!\r\nThat sliding* science hath me made so bare,         *slippery, deceptive\r\nThat I have no good,* where that ever I fare;                  *property\r\nAnd yet I am indebted so thereby\r\nOf gold, that I have borrow\u2019d truely,\r\nThat, while I live, I shall it quite* never;                      *repay\r\nLet every man beware by me for ever.\r\nWhat manner man that casteth* him thereto,                     *betaketh\r\nIf he continue, I hold *his thrift y-do;*         *prosperity at an end*\r\nSo help me God, thereby shall he not win,\r\nBut empty his purse, and make his wittes thin.\r\nAnd when he, through his madness and folly,\r\nHath lost his owen good through jupartie,*                   *hazard <2>\r\nThen he exciteth other men thereto,\r\nTo lose their good as he himself hath do\u2019.\r\nFor unto shrewes* joy it is and ease                        *wicked folk\r\nTo have their fellows in pain and disease.*                     *trouble\r\nThus was I ones learned of a clerk;\r\nOf that no charge;* I will speak of our work.                    *matter\r\n\r\nWhen we be there as we shall exercise\r\nOur elvish* craft, we seeme wonder wise,              *fantastic, wicked\r\nOur termes be so *clergial and quaint.*             *learned and strange\r\nI blow the fire till that mine hearte faint.\r\nWhy should I tellen each proportion\r\nOf thinges, whiche that we work upon,\r\nAs on five or six ounces, may well be,\r\nOf silver, or some other quantity?\r\nAnd busy me to telle you the names,\r\nAs orpiment, burnt bones, iron squames,*                     *scales <3>\r\nThat into powder grounden be full small?\r\nAnd in an earthen pot how put is all,\r\nAnd, salt y-put in, and also peppere,\r\nBefore these powders that I speak of here,\r\nAnd well y-cover\u2019d with a lamp of glass?\r\nAnd of much other thing which that there was?\r\nAnd of the pots and glasses engluting,*                      *sealing up\r\nThat of the air might passen out no thing?\r\nAnd of the easy* fire, and smart** also,                   *slow **quick\r\nWhich that was made? and of the care and woe\r\nThat we had in our matters subliming,\r\nAnd in amalgaming, and calcining\r\nOf quicksilver, called mercury crude?\r\nFor all our sleightes we can not conclude.\r\nOur orpiment, and sublim\u2019d mercury,\r\nOur ground litharge* eke on the porphyry,                    *white lead\r\nOf each of these of ounces a certain,*               *certain proportion\r\nNot helpeth us, our labour is in vain.\r\nNor neither our spirits\u2019 ascensioun,\r\nNor our matters that lie all fix\u2019d adown,\r\nMay in our working nothing us avail;\r\nFor lost is all our labour and travail,\r\nAnd all the cost, a twenty devil way,\r\nIs lost also, which we upon it lay.\r\n\r\nThere is also full many another thing\r\nThat is unto our craft appertaining,\r\nThough I by order them not rehearse can,\r\nBecause that I am a lewed* man;                               *unlearned\r\nYet will I tell them as they come to mind,\r\nAlthough I cannot set them in their kind,\r\nAs sal-armoniac, verdigris, borace;\r\nAnd sundry vessels made of earth and glass; <4>\r\nOur urinales, and our descensories,\r\nPhials, and croslets, and sublimatories,\r\nCucurbites, and alembikes eke,\r\nAnd other suche, *dear enough a leek,*          *worth less than a leek*\r\nIt needeth not for to rehearse them all.\r\nWaters rubifying, and bulles\u2019 gall,\r\nArsenic, sal-armoniac, and brimstone,\r\nAnd herbes could I tell eke many a one,\r\nAs egremoine,* valerian, and lunary,**             *agrimony **moon-wort\r\nAnd other such, if that me list to tarry;\r\nOur lampes burning bothe night and day,\r\nTo bring about our craft if that we may;\r\nOur furnace eke of calcination,\r\nAnd of waters albification,\r\nUnslaked lime, chalk, and *glair of an ey,*                   *egg-white\r\nPowders diverse, ashes, dung, piss, and clay,\r\nSeared pokettes,<5> saltpetre, and vitriol;\r\nAnd divers fires made of wood and coal;\r\nSal-tartar, alkali, salt preparate,\r\nAnd combust matters, and coagulate;\r\nClay made with horse and manne\u2019s hair, and oil\r\nOf tartar, alum, glass, barm, wort, argoil,*           *potter\u2019s clay<6>\r\nRosalgar,* and other matters imbibing;              *flowers of antimony\r\nAnd eke of our matters encorporing,*                      *incorporating\r\nAnd of our silver citrination, <7>\r\nOur cementing, and fermentation,\r\nOur ingots,* tests, and many thinges mo\u2019.                    *moulds <8>\r\nI will you tell, as was me taught also,\r\nThe foure spirits, and the bodies seven,\r\nBy order, as oft I heard my lord them neven.*                      *name\r\nThe first spirit Quicksilver called is;\r\nThe second Orpiment; the third, y-wis,\r\nSal-Armoniac, and the fourth Brimstone.\r\nThe bodies sev\u2019n eke, lo them here anon.\r\nSol gold is, and Luna silver we threpe*                        *name <9>\r\nMars iron, Mercury quicksilver we clepe;*                          *call\r\nSaturnus lead, and Jupiter is tin,\r\nAnd Venus copper, by my father\u2019s kin.\r\n\r\nThis cursed craft whoso will exercise,\r\nHe shall no good have that him may suffice;\r\nFor all the good he spendeth thereabout,\r\nHe lose shall, thereof have I no doubt.\r\nWhoso that list to utter* his folly,                            *display\r\nLet him come forth and learn to multiply:\r\nAnd every man that hath aught in his coffer,\r\nLet him appear, and wax a philosopher;\r\nAscaunce* that craft is so light to lear.**               *as if **learn\r\nNay, nay, God wot, all be he monk or frere,\r\nPriest or canon, or any other wight;\r\nThough he sit at his book both day and night;\r\nIn learning of this *elvish nice* lore,             * fantastic, foolish\r\nAll is in vain; and pardie muche more,\r\nIs to learn a lew\u2019d* man this subtlety;                        *ignorant\r\nFie! speak not thereof, for it will not be.\r\nAnd *conne he letterure,* or conne he none,       *if he knows learning*\r\nAs in effect, he shall it find all one;\r\nFor bothe two, by my salvation,\r\nConcluden in multiplication*                   *transmutation by alchemy\r\nAlike well, when they have all y-do;\r\nThis is to say, they faile bothe two.\r\nYet forgot I to make rehearsale\r\nOf waters corrosive, and of limaile,*                     *metal filings\r\nAnd of bodies\u2019 mollification,\r\nAnd also of their induration,\r\nOiles, ablutions, metal fusible,\r\nTo tellen all, would passen any Bible\r\nThat owhere* is; wherefore, as for the best,                   *anywhere\r\nOf all these names now will I me rest;\r\nFor, as I trow, I have you told enough\r\nTo raise a fiend, all look he ne\u2019er so rough.\r\n\r\nAh! nay, let be; the philosopher\u2019s stone,\r\nElixir call\u2019d, we seeke fast each one;\r\nFor had we him, then were we sicker* enow;                       *secure\r\nBut unto God of heaven I make avow,*                         *confession\r\nFor all our craft, when we have all y-do,\r\nAnd all our sleight, he will not come us to.\r\nHe hath y-made us spende muche good,\r\nFor sorrow of which almost we waxed wood,*                          *mad\r\nBut that good hope creeped in our heart,\r\nSupposing ever, though we sore smart,\r\nTo be relieved by him afterward.\r\nSuch supposing and hope is sharp and hard.\r\nI warn you well it is to seeken ever.\r\nThat future temps* hath made men dissever,**          *time  **part from\r\nIn trust thereof, from all that ever they had,\r\nYet of that art they cannot waxe sad,*                        *repentant\r\nFor unto them it is a bitter sweet;\r\nSo seemeth it; for had they but a sheet\r\nWhich that they mighte wrap them in at night,\r\nAnd a bratt* to walk in by dayelight,                         *cloak<10>\r\nThey would them sell, and spend it on this craft;\r\nThey cannot stint,* until no thing be laft.                       *cease\r\nAnd evermore, wherever that they gon,\r\nMen may them knowe by smell of brimstone;\r\nFor all the world they stinken as a goat;\r\nTheir savour is so rammish and so hot,\r\nThat though a man a mile from them be,\r\nThe savour will infect him, truste me.\r\nLo, thus by smelling and threadbare array,\r\nIf that men list, this folk they knowe may.\r\nAnd if a man will ask them privily,\r\nWhy they be clothed so unthriftily,*                           *shabbily\r\nThey right anon will rownen* in his ear,                        *whisper\r\nAnd sayen, if that they espied were,\r\nMen would them slay, because of their science:\r\nLo, thus these folk betrayen innocence!\r\n\r\nPass over this; I go my tale unto.\r\nEre that the pot be on the fire y-do*                            *placed\r\nOf metals, with a certain quantity\r\nMy lord them tempers,* and no man but he        *adjusts the proportions\r\n(Now he is gone, I dare say boldely);\r\nFor as men say, he can do craftily,\r\nAlgate* I wot well he hath such a name,                        *although\r\nAnd yet full oft he runneth into blame;\r\nAnd know ye how? full oft it happ\u2019neth so,\r\nThe pot to-breaks, and farewell! all is go\u2019.*                      *gone\r\nThese metals be of so great violence,\r\nOur walles may not make them resistence,\r\n*But if* they were wrought of lime and stone;                   *unless*\r\nThey pierce so, that through the wall they gon;\r\nAnd some of them sink down into the ground\r\n(Thus have we lost by times many a pound),\r\nAnd some are scatter\u2019d all the floor about;\r\nSome leap into the roof withoute doubt.\r\nThough that the fiend not in our sight him show,\r\nI trowe that he be with us, that shrew;*                 *impious wretch\r\nIn helle, where that he is lord and sire,\r\nIs there no more woe, rancour, nor ire.\r\nWhen that our pot is broke, as I have said,\r\nEvery man chides, and holds him *evil apaid.*             *dissatisfied*\r\nSome said it was *long on* the fire-making;            *because of <11>*\r\nSome saide nay, it was on the blowing\r\n(Then was I fear\u2019d, for that was mine office);\r\n\u201cStraw!\u201d quoth the third, \u201cye be *lewed and **nice,  *ignorant **foolish\r\nIt was not temper\u2019d* as it ought to be.\u201d       *mixed in due proportions\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth the fourthe, \u201cstint* and hearken me;                  *stop\r\nBecause our fire was not y-made of beech,\r\nThat is the cause, and other none, *so the\u2019ch.*        *so may I thrive*\r\nI cannot tell whereon it was along,\r\nBut well I wot great strife is us among.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat?\u201d quoth my lord, \u201cthere is no more to do\u2019n,\r\nOf these perils I will beware eftsoon.*                    *another time\r\nI am right sicker* that the pot was crazed.**            *sure **cracked\r\nBe as be may, be ye no thing amazed.*                        *confounded\r\nAs usage is, let sweep the floor as swithe;*                    *quickly\r\nPluck up your heartes and be glad and blithe.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe mullok* on a heap y-sweeped was,                            *rubbish\r\nAnd on the floor y-cast a canevas,\r\nAnd all this mullok in a sieve y-throw,\r\nAnd sifted, and y-picked many a throw.*                            *time\r\n\u201cPardie,\u201d quoth one, \u201csomewhat of our metal\r\nYet is there here, though that we have not all.\r\nAnd though this thing *mishapped hath as now,*           *has gone amiss\r\nAnother time it may be well enow.                            at present*\r\nWe muste *put our good in adventure; *               *risk our property*\r\nA merchant, pardie, may not aye endure,\r\nTruste me well, in his prosperity:\r\nSometimes his good is drenched* in the sea,               *drowned, sunk\r\nAnd sometimes comes it safe unto the land.\u201d\r\n\u201cPeace,\u201d quoth my lord; \u201cthe next time I will fand*           *endeavour\r\nTo bring our craft *all in another plight,*  *to a different conclusion*\r\nAnd but I do, Sirs, let me have the wite;*                        *blame\r\nThere was default in somewhat, well I wot.\u201d\r\nAnother said, the fire was over hot.\r\nBut be it hot or cold, I dare say this,\r\nThat we concluden evermore amiss;\r\nWe fail alway of that which we would have;\r\nAnd in our madness evermore we rave.\r\nAnd when we be together every one,\r\nEvery man seemeth a Solomon.\r\nBut all thing, which that shineth as the gold,\r\nIt is not gold, as I have heard it told;\r\nNor every apple that is fair at eye,\r\nIt is not good, what so men clap* or cry.                        *assert\r\nRight so, lo, fareth it amonges us.\r\nHe that the wisest seemeth, by Jesus,\r\nIs most fool, when it cometh to the prefe;*                 *proof, test\r\nAnd he that seemeth truest, is a thief.\r\nThat shall ye know, ere that I from you wend;\r\nBy that I of my tale have made an end.\r\n\r\nThere was a canon of religioun\r\nAmonges us, would infect* all a town,                           *deceive\r\nThough it as great were as was Nineveh,\r\nRome, Alisandre,* Troy, or other three.                      *Alexandria\r\nHis sleightes* and his infinite falseness                *cunning tricks\r\nThere coulde no man writen, as I guess,\r\nThough that he mighte live a thousand year;\r\nIn all this world of falseness n\u2019is* his peer.             *there is not\r\nFor in his termes he will him so wind,\r\nAnd speak his wordes in so sly a kind,\r\nWhen he commune shall with any wight,\r\nThat he will make him doat* anon aright,               *become foolishly\r\nBut it a fiende be, as himself is.                          fond of him*\r\nFull many a man hath he beguil\u2019d ere this,\r\nAnd will, if that he may live any while;\r\nAnd yet men go and ride many a mile\r\nHim for to seek, and have his acquaintance,\r\nNot knowing of his false governance.*                 *deceitful conduct\r\nAnd if you list to give me audience,\r\nI will it telle here in your presence.\r\nBut, worshipful canons religious,\r\nNe deeme not that I slander your house,\r\nAlthough that my tale of a canon be.\r\nOf every order some shrew is, pardie;\r\nAnd God forbid that all a company\r\nShould rue a singular* manne\u2019s folly.                        *individual\r\nTo slander you is no thing mine intent;\r\nBut to correct that is amiss I meant.\r\nThis tale was not only told for you,\r\nBut eke for other more; ye wot well how\r\nThat amonges Christe\u2019s apostles twelve\r\nThere was no traitor but Judas himselve;\r\nThen why should all the remenant have blame,\r\nThat guiltless were? By you I say the same.\r\nSave only this, if ye will hearken me,\r\nIf any Judas in your convent be,\r\nRemove him betimes, I you rede,*                                *counsel\r\nIf shame or loss may causen any dread.\r\nAnd be no thing displeased, I you pray;\r\nBut in this case hearken what I say.\r\n\r\nIn London was a priest, an annualere, <12>\r\nThat therein dwelled hadde many a year,\r\nWhich was so pleasant and so serviceable\r\nUnto the wife, where as he was at table,\r\nThat she would suffer him no thing to pay\r\nFor board nor clothing, went he ne\u2019er so gay;\r\nAnd spending silver had he right enow;\r\nThereof no force;* will proceed as now,                       *no matter\r\nAnd telle forth my tale of the canon,\r\nThat brought this prieste to confusion.\r\nThis false canon came upon a day\r\nUnto the prieste\u2019s chamber, where he lay,\r\nBeseeching him to lend him a certain\r\nOf gold, and he would quit it him again.\r\n\u201cLend me a mark,\u201d quoth he, \u201cbut dayes three,\r\nAnd at my day I will it quite thee.\r\nAnd if it so be that thou find me false,\r\nAnother day hang me up by the halse.\u201d*                             *neck\r\nThis priest him took a mark, and that as swithe,*               *quickly\r\nAnd this canon him thanked often sithe,*                          *times\r\nAnd took his leave, and wente forth his way;\r\nAnd at the thirde day brought his money;\r\nAnd to the priest he took his gold again,\r\nWhereof this priest was wondrous glad and fain.*                *pleased\r\n\u201cCertes,\u201d quoth he, *\u201cnothing annoyeth me*           *I am not unwiling*\r\nTo lend a man a noble, or two, or three,\r\nOr what thing were in my possession,\r\nWhen he so true is of condition,\r\nThat in no wise he breake will his day;\r\nTo such a man I never can say nay.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat,\u201d quoth this canon, \u201cshould I be untrue?\r\nNay, that were *thing y-fallen all of new!*      *a new thing to happen*\r\nTruth is a thing that I will ever keep,\r\nUnto the day in which that I shall creep\r\nInto my grave; and elles God forbid;\r\nBelieve this as sicker* as your creed.                             *sure\r\nGod thank I, and in good time be it said,\r\nThat there was never man yet *evil apaid*     *displeased, dissatisfied*\r\nFor gold nor silver that he to me lent,\r\nNor ever falsehood in mine heart I meant.\r\nAnd Sir,\u201d quoth he, \u201cnow of my privity,\r\nSince ye so goodly have been unto me,\r\nAnd kithed* to me so great gentleness,                            *shown\r\nSomewhat, to quite with your kindeness,\r\nI will you shew, and if you list to lear,*                        *learn\r\nI will you teache plainly the mannere\r\nHow I can worken in philosophy.\r\nTake good heed, ye shall well see *at eye*           *with your own eye*\r\nThat I will do a mas\u2019try ere I go.\u201d\r\n\u201cYea,\u201d quoth the priest; \u201cyea, Sir, and will ye so?\r\nMary! thereof I pray you heartily.\u201d\r\n\u201cAt your commandement, Sir, truely,\u201d\r\nQuoth the canon, \u201cand elles God forbid.\u201d\r\nLo, how this thiefe could his service bede!*                      *offer\r\n\r\nFull sooth it is that such proffer\u2019d service\r\nStinketh, as witnesse *these olde wise;*        *those wise folk of old*\r\nAnd that full soon I will it verify\r\nIn this canon, root of all treachery,\r\nThat evermore delight had and gladness\r\n(Such fiendly thoughtes *in his heart impress*)   *press into his heart*\r\nHow Christe\u2019s people he may to mischief bring.\r\nGod keep us from his false dissimuling!\r\nWhat wiste this priest with whom that he dealt?\r\nNor of his harm coming he nothing felt.\r\nO sely* priest, O sely innocent!                                 *simple\r\nWith covetise anon thou shalt be blent;*              *blinded; beguiled\r\nO graceless, full blind is thy conceit!\r\nFor nothing art thou ware of the deceit\r\nWhich that this fox y-shapen* hath to thee;                   *contrived\r\nHis wily wrenches* thou not mayest flee.                         *snares\r\nWherefore, to go to the conclusioun\r\nThat referreth to thy confusion,\r\nUnhappy man, anon I will me hie*                                 *hasten\r\nTo telle thine unwit* and thy folly,                          *stupidity\r\nAnd eke the falseness of that other wretch,\r\nAs farforth as that my conning* will stretch.                 *knowledge\r\nThis canon was my lord, ye woulde ween;*                        *imagine\r\nSir Host, in faith, and by the heaven\u2019s queen,\r\nIt was another canon, and not he,\r\nThat can* an hundred fold more subtlety.                          *knows\r\nHe hath betrayed folkes many a time;\r\nOf his falseness it doleth* me to rhyme.                        *paineth\r\nAnd ever, when I speak of his falsehead,\r\nFor shame of him my cheekes waxe red;\r\nAlgates* they beginne for to glow,                             *at least\r\nFor redness have I none, right well I know,\r\nIn my visage; for fumes diverse\r\nOf metals, which ye have me heard rehearse,\r\nConsumed have and wasted my redness.\r\nNow take heed of this canon\u2019s cursedness.*                     *villainy\r\n\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth he to the priest, \u201clet your man gon\r\nFor quicksilver, that we it had anon;\r\nAnd let him bringen ounces two or three;\r\nAnd when he comes, as faste shall ye see\r\nA wondrous thing, which ye saw ne\u2019er ere this.\u201d\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth the priest, \u201cit shall be done, y-wis.\u201d*          *certainly\r\nHe bade his servant fetche him this thing,\r\nAnd he all ready was at his bidding,\r\nAnd went him forth, and came anon again\r\nWith this quicksilver, shortly for to sayn;\r\nAnd took these ounces three to the canoun;\r\nAnd he them laide well and fair adown,\r\nAnd bade the servant coales for to bring,\r\nThat he anon might go to his working.\r\nThe coales right anon weren y-fet,*                             *fetched\r\nAnd this canon y-took a crosselet*                             *crucible\r\nOut of his bosom, and shew\u2019d to the priest.\r\n\u201cThis instrument,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwhich that thou seest,\r\nTake in thine hand, and put thyself therein\r\nOf this quicksilver an ounce, and here begin,\r\nIn the name of Christ, to wax a philosopher.\r\nThere be full few, which that I woulde proffer\r\nTo shewe them thus much of my science;\r\nFor here shall ye see by experience\r\nThat this quicksilver I will mortify,<13>\r\nRight in your sight anon withoute lie,\r\nAnd make it as good silver, and as fine,\r\nAs there is any in your purse, or mine,\r\nOr elleswhere; and make it malleable,\r\nAnd elles holde me false and unable\r\nAmonge folk for ever to appear.\r\nI have a powder here that cost me dear,\r\nShall make all good, for it is cause of all\r\nMy conning,* which that I you shewe shall.                    *knowledge\r\nVoide* your man, and let him be thereout;                     *send away\r\nAnd shut the doore, while we be about\r\nOur privity, that no man us espy,\r\nWhile that we work in this phiosophy.\u201d\r\nAll, as he bade, fulfilled was in deed.\r\nThis ilke servant right anon out yede,*                            *went\r\nAnd his master y-shut the door anon,\r\nAnd to their labour speedily they gon.\r\n\r\nThis priest, at this cursed canon\u2019s biddIng,\r\nUpon the fire anon he set this thing,\r\nAnd blew the fire, and busied him full fast.\r\nAnd this canon into the croslet cast\r\nA powder, I know not whereof it was\r\nY-made, either of chalk, either of glass,\r\nOr somewhat elles, was not worth a fly,\r\nTo blinden* with this priest; and bade him hie**   *deceive **make haste\r\nThe coales for to couchen* all above                        lay in order\r\nThe croslet; \u201cfor, in token I thee love,\u201d\r\nQuoth this canon, \u201cthine owen handes two\r\nShall work all thing that here shall be do\u2019.\u201d\r\n*\u201cGrand mercy,\u201d* quoth the priest, and was full glad,     *great thanks*\r\nAnd couch\u2019d the coales as the canon bade.\r\nAnd while he busy was, this fiendly wretch,\r\nThis false canon (the foule fiend him fetch),\r\nOut of his bosom took a beechen coal,\r\nIn which full subtifly was made a hole,\r\nAnd therein put was of silver limaile*                          *filings\r\nAn ounce, and stopped was withoute fail\r\nThe hole with wax, to keep the limaile in.\r\nAnd understande, that this false gin*                       *contrivance\r\nWas not made there, but it was made before;\r\nAnd other thinges I shall tell you more,\r\nHereafterward, which that he with him brought;\r\nEre he came there, him to beguile he thought,\r\nAnd so he did, ere that they *went atwin;*                   *separated*\r\nTill he had turned him, could he not blin.*                  *cease <14>\r\nIt doleth* me, when that I of him speak;                        *paineth\r\nOn his falsehood fain would I me awreak,*                *revenge myself\r\nIf I wist how, but he is here and there;\r\nHe is so variant,* he abides nowhere.                        *changeable\r\n\r\nBut take heed, Sirs, now for Godde\u2019s love.\r\nHe took his coal, of which I spake above,\r\nAnd in his hand he bare it privily,\r\nAnd while the prieste couched busily\r\nThe coales, as I tolde you ere this,\r\nThis canon saide, \u201cFriend, ye do amiss;\r\nThis is not couched as it ought to be,\r\nBut soon I shall amenden it,\u201d quoth he.\r\n\u201cNow let me meddle therewith but a while,\r\nFor of you have I pity, by Saint Gile.\r\nYe be right hot, I see well how ye sweat;\r\nHave here a cloth, and wipe away the wet.\u201d\r\nAnd while that the prieste wip\u2019d his face,\r\nThis canon took his coal, \u2014 *with sorry grace,* \u2014        *evil fortune\r\nAnd layed it above on the midward                           attend him!*\r\nOf the croslet, and blew well afterward,\r\nTill that the coals beganne fast to brenn.*                        *burn\r\n\u201cNow give us drinke,\u201d quoth this canon then,\r\n\u201cAnd swithe* all shall be well, I undertake.                    *quickly\r\nSitte we down, and let us merry make.\u201d\r\nAnd whenne that this canon\u2019s beechen coal\r\nWas burnt, all the limaile out of the hole\r\nInto the crosselet anon fell down;\r\nAnd so it muste needes, by reasoun,\r\nSince it above so *even couched* was;                     *exactly laid*\r\nBut thereof wist the priest no thing, alas!\r\nHe deemed all the coals alike good,\r\nFor of the sleight he nothing understood.\r\n\r\nAnd when this alchemister saw his time,\r\n\u201cRise up, Sir Priest,\u201d quoth he, \u201cand stand by me;\r\nAnd, for I wot well ingot* have ye none;                          *mould\r\nGo, walke forth, and bring me a chalk stone;\r\nFor I will make it of the same shape\r\nThat is an ingot, if I may have hap.\r\nBring eke with you a bowl, or else a pan,\r\nFull of water, and ye shall well see than*                         *then\r\nHow that our business shall *hap and preve*                    *succeed*\r\nAnd yet, for ye shall have no misbelieve*                      *mistrust\r\nNor wrong conceit of me, in your absence,\r\nI wille not be out of your presence,\r\nBut go with you, and come with you again.\u201d\r\nThe chamber-doore, shortly for to sayn,\r\nThey opened and shut, and went their way,\r\nAnd forth with them they carried the key;\r\nAnd came again without any delay.\r\nWhy should I tarry all the longe day?\r\nHe took the chalk, and shap\u2019d it in the wise\r\nOf an ingot, as I shall you devise;*                           *describe\r\nI say, he took out of his owen sleeve\r\nA teine* of silver (evil may he cheve!**)        *little piece **prosper\r\nWhich that ne was but a just ounce of weight.\r\nAnd take heed now of his cursed sleight;\r\nHe shap\u2019d his ingot, in length and in brede*                    *breadth\r\nOf this teine, withouten any drede,*                              *doubt\r\nSo slily, that the priest it not espied;\r\nAnd in his sleeve again he gan it hide;\r\nAnd from the fire he took up his mattere,\r\nAnd in th\u2019 ingot put it with merry cheer;\r\nAnd in the water-vessel he it cast,\r\nWhen that him list, and bade the priest as fast\r\nLook what there is; \u201cPut in thine hand and grope;\r\nThere shalt thou finde silver, as I hope.\u201d\r\nWhat, devil of helle! should it elles be?\r\nShaving of silver, silver is, pardie.\r\nHe put his hand in, and took up a teine\r\nOf silver fine; and glad in every vein\r\nWas this priest, when he saw that it was so.\r\n\u201cGodde\u2019s blessing, and his mother\u2019s also,\r\nAnd alle hallows,* have ye, Sir Canon!\u201d                          *saints\r\nSaide this priest, \u201cand I their malison*                          *curse\r\nBut, an\u2019* ye vouchesafe to teache me                                 *if\r\nThis noble craft and this subtility,\r\nI will be yours in all that ever I may.\u201d\r\nQuoth the canon, \u201cYet will I make assay\r\nThe second time, that ye may take heed,\r\nAnd be expert of this, and, in your need,\r\nAnother day assay in mine absence\r\nThis discipline, and this crafty science.\r\nLet take another ounce,\u201d quoth he tho,*                            *then\r\n\u201cOf quicksilver, withoute wordes mo\u2019,\r\nAnd do therewith as ye have done ere this\r\nWith that other, which that now silver is. \u201c\r\n\r\nThe priest him busied, all that e\u2019er he can,\r\nTo do as this canon, this cursed man,\r\nCommanded him, and fast he blew the fire\r\nFor to come to th\u2019 effect of his desire.\r\nAnd this canon right in the meanewhile\r\nAll ready was this priest eft* to beguile,                        *again\r\nand, for a countenance,* in his hande bare                    *stratagem\r\nAn hollow sticke (take keep* and beware);                          *heed\r\nOf silver limaile put was, as before\r\nWas in his coal, and stopped with wax well\r\nFor to keep in his limaile every deal.*                        *particle\r\nAnd while this priest was in his business,\r\nThis canon with his sticke gan him dress*                         *apply\r\nTo him anon, and his powder cast in,\r\nAs he did erst (the devil out of his skin\r\nHim turn, I pray to God, for his falsehead,\r\nFor he was ever false in thought and deed),\r\nAnd with his stick, above the crosselet,\r\nThat was ordained* with that false get,**        *provided **contrivance\r\nHe stirr\u2019d the coales, till relente gan\r\nThe wax against the fire, as every man,\r\nBut he a fool be, knows well it must need.\r\nAnd all that in the sticke was out yede,*                          *went\r\nAnd in the croslet hastily* it fell.                            *quickly\r\nNow, goode Sirs, what will ye bet* than well?                    *better\r\nWhen that this priest was thus beguil\u2019d again,\r\nSupposing naught but truthe, sooth to sayn,\r\nHe was so glad, that I can not express\r\nIn no mannere his mirth and his gladness;\r\nAnd to the canon he proffer\u2019d eftsoon*                 *forthwith; again\r\nBody and good. \u201cYea,\u201d quoth the canon soon,\r\n\u201cThough poor I be, crafty* thou shalt me find;                  *skilful\r\nI warn thee well, yet is there more behind.\r\nIs any copper here within?\u201d said he.\r\n\u201cYea, Sir,\u201d the prieste said, \u201cI trow there be.\u201d\r\n\u201cElles go buy us some, and that as swithe.*                     *swiftly\r\nNow, goode Sir, go forth thy way and hie* thee.\u201d                 *hasten\r\nHe went his way, and with the copper came,\r\nAnd this canon it in his handes name,*                        *took <15>\r\nAnd of that copper weighed out an ounce.\r\nToo simple is my tongue to pronounce,\r\nAs minister of my wit, the doubleness\r\nOf this canon, root of all cursedness.\r\nHe friendly seem\u2019d to them that knew him not;\r\nBut he was fiendly, both in work and thought.\r\nIt wearieth me to tell of his falseness;\r\nAnd natheless yet will I it express,\r\nTo that intent men may beware thereby,\r\nAnd for none other cause truely.\r\nHe put this copper in the crosselet,\r\nAnd on the fire as swithe* he hath it set,                      *swiftly\r\nAnd cast in powder, and made the priest to blow,\r\nAnd in his working for to stoope low,\r\nAs he did erst,* and all was but a jape;**               *before **trick\r\nRight as him list the priest *he made his ape.*           *befooled him*\r\nAnd afterward in the ingot he it cast,\r\nAnd in the pan he put it at the last\r\nOf water, and in he put his own hand;\r\nAnd in his sleeve, as ye beforehand\r\nHearde me tell, he had a silver teine;*                     *small piece\r\nHe silly took it out, this cursed heine*                         *wretch\r\n(Unweeting* this priest of his false craft),               *unsuspecting\r\nAnd in the panne\u2019s bottom he it laft*                              *left\r\nAnd in the water rumbleth to and fro,\r\nAnd wondrous privily took up also\r\nThe copper teine (not knowing thilke priest),\r\nAnd hid it, and him hente* by the breast,                          *took\r\nAnd to him spake, and thus said in his game;\r\n\u201cStoop now adown; by God, ye be to blame;\r\nHelpe me now, as I did you whilere;*                             *before\r\nPut in your hand, and looke what is there.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis priest took up this silver teine anon;\r\nAnd thenne said the canon, \u201cLet us gon,\r\nWith these three teines which that we have wrought,\r\nTo some goldsmith, and *weet if they be aught:*    *find out if they are\r\nFor, by my faith, I would not for my hood                worth anything*\r\n*But if* they were silver fine and good,                         *unless\r\nAnd that as swithe* well proved shall it be.\u201d                   *quickly\r\nUnto the goldsmith with these teines three\r\nThey went anon, and put them in assay*                            *proof\r\nTo fire and hammer; might no man say nay,\r\nBut that they weren as they ought to be.\r\nThis sotted* priest, who gladder was than he?          *stupid, besotted\r\nWas never bird gladder against the day;\r\nNor nightingale in the season of May\r\nWas never none, that better list to sing;\r\nNor lady lustier in carolling,\r\nOr for to speak of love and womanhead;\r\nNor knight in arms to do a hardy deed,\r\nTo standen in grace of his lady dear,\r\nThan had this priest this crafte for to lear;\r\nAnd to the canon thus he spake and said;\r\n\u201cFor love of God, that for us alle died,\r\nAnd as I may deserve it unto you,\r\nWhat shall this receipt coste? tell me now.\u201d\r\n\u201cBy our Lady,\u201d quoth this canon, \u201cit is dear.\r\nI warn you well, that, save I and a frere,\r\nIn Engleland there can no man it make.\u201d\r\n*\u201cNo force,\u201d* quoth he; \u201cnow, Sir, for Godde\u2019s sake,          *no matter\r\nWhat shall I pay? telle me, I you pray.\u201d\r\n\u201cY-wis,\u201d* quoth he, \u201cit is full dear, I say.                  *certainly\r\nSir, at one word, if that you list it have,\r\nYe shall pay forty pound, so God me save;\r\nAnd n\u2019ere* the friendship that ye did ere this          *were it not for\r\nTo me, ye shoulde paye more, y-wis.\u201d\r\nThis priest the sum of forty pound anon\r\nOf nobles fet,* and took them every one                         *fetched\r\nTo this canon, for this ilke receipt.\r\nAll his working was but fraud and deceit.\r\n\u201cSir Priest,\u201d he said, \u201cI keep* to have no los**     *care **praise <16>\r\nOf my craft, for I would it were kept close;\r\nAnd as ye love me, keep it secre:\r\nFor if men knewen all my subtlety,\r\nBy God, they woulde have so great envy\r\nTo me, because of my philosophy,\r\nI should be dead, there were no other way.\u201d\r\n\u201cGod it forbid,\u201d quoth the priest, \u201cwhat ye say.\r\nYet had I lever* spenden all the good                            *rather\r\nWhich that I have (and elles were I wood*),                         *mad\r\nThan that ye shoulde fall in such mischief.\u201d\r\n\u201cFor your good will, Sir, have ye right good prefe,\u201d*   *results of your\r\nQuoth the canon; \u201cand farewell, grand mercy.\u201d              *experiments*\r\nHe went his way, and never the priest him sey *                     *saw\r\nAfter that day; and when that this priest should\r\nMaken assay, at such time as he would,\r\nOf this receipt, farewell! it would not be.\r\nLo, thus bejaped* and beguil\u2019d was he;                          *tricked\r\nThus made he his introduction\r\nTo bringe folk to their destruction.\r\n\r\nConsider, Sirs, how that in each estate\r\nBetwixte men and gold there is debate,\r\nSo farforth that *unnethes is there none.*       *scarcely is there any*\r\nThis multiplying blint* so many a one,                  *blinds, deceive\r\nThat in good faith I trowe that it be\r\nThe cause greatest of such scarcity.\r\nThese philosophers speak so mistily\r\nIn this craft, that men cannot come thereby,\r\nFor any wit that men have how-a-days.\r\nThey may well chatter, as do these jays,\r\nAnd in their termes set their *lust and pain,*   *pleasure and exertion*\r\nBut to their purpose shall they ne\u2019er attain.\r\nA man may lightly* learn, if he have aught,                      *easily\r\nTo multiply, and bring his good to naught.\r\nLo, such a lucre* is in this lusty** game;            *profit **pleasant\r\nA manne\u2019s mirth it will turn all to grame,*                 *sorrow <17>\r\nAnd empty also great and heavy purses,\r\nAnd make folke for to purchase curses\r\nOf them that have thereto their good y-lent.\r\nOh, fy for shame! they that have been brent,*                     *burnt\r\nAlas! can they not flee the fire\u2019s heat?\r\nYe that it use, I rede* that ye it lete,**               *advise **leave\r\nLest ye lose all; for better than never is late;\r\nNever to thrive, were too long a date.\r\nThough ye prowl aye, ye shall it never find;\r\nYe be as bold as is Bayard the blind,\r\nThat blunders forth, and *peril casteth none;*     *perceives no danger*\r\nHe is as bold to run against a stone,\r\nAs for to go beside it in the way:\r\nSo fare ye that multiply, I say.\r\nIf that your eyen cannot see aright,\r\nLook that your minde lacke not his sight.\r\nFor though you look never so broad, and stare,\r\nYe shall not win a mite on that chaffare,*            *traffic, commerce\r\nBut wasten all that ye may *rape and renn.*       *get by hook or crook*\r\nWithdraw the fire, lest it too faste brenn;*                       *burn\r\nMeddle no more with that art, I mean;\r\nFor if ye do, your thrift* is gone full clean.               *prosperity\r\nAnd right as swithe* I will you telle here                      *quickly\r\nWhat philosophers say in this mattere.\r\n\r\nLo, thus saith Arnold of the newe town, <18>\r\nAs his Rosary maketh mentioun,\r\nHe saith right thus, withouten any lie;\r\n\u201cThere may no man mercury mortify,<13>\r\nBut* it be with his brother\u2019s knowledging.\u201d                      *except\r\nLo, how that he, which firste said this thing,\r\nOf philosophers father was, Hermes;<19>\r\nHe saith, how that the dragon doubteless\r\nHe dieth not, but if that he be slain\r\nWith his brother. And this is for to sayn,\r\nBy the dragon, Mercury, and none other,\r\nHe understood, and Brimstone by his brother,\r\nThat out of Sol and Luna were y-draw.*                   *drawn, derived\r\n\u201cAnd therefore,\u201d said he, \u201ctake heed to my saw.                  *saying\r\nLet no man busy him this art to seech,*                  *study, explore\r\n*But if* that he th\u2019intention and speech                         *unless\r\nOf philosophers understande can;\r\nAnd if he do, he is a lewed* man.                     *ignorant, foolish\r\nFor this science and this conning,\u201d* quoth he,                *knowledge\r\n\u201cIs of the secret of secrets <20> pardie.\u201d\r\nAlso there was a disciple of Plato,\r\nThat on a time said his master to,\r\nAs his book, Senior, <21> will bear witness,\r\nAnd this was his demand in soothfastness:\r\n\u201cTell me the name of thilke* privy** stone.\u201d              *that **secret\r\nAnd Plato answer\u2019d unto him anon;\r\n\u201cTake the stone that Titanos men name.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhich is that?\u201d quoth he. \u201cMagnesia is the same,\u201d\r\nSaide Plato. \u201cYea, Sir, and is it thus?\r\nThis is ignotum per ignotius. <22>\r\nWhat is Magnesia, good Sir, I pray?\u201d\r\n\u201cIt is a water that is made, I say,\r\nOf th\u2019 elementes foure,\u201d quoth Plato.\r\n\u201cTell me the roote, good Sir,\u201d quoth he tho,*                      *then\r\n\u201cOf that water, if that it be your will.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d quoth Plato, \u201ccertain that I n\u2019ill.*               *will not\r\nThe philosophers sworn were every one,\r\nThat they should not discover it to none,\r\nNor in no book it write in no mannere;\r\nFor unto God it is so lefe* and dear,                          *precious\r\nThat he will not that it discover\u2019d be,\r\nBut where it liketh to his deity\r\nMan for to inspire, and eke for to defend\u2019*                     *protect\r\nWhom that he liketh; lo, this is the end.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen thus conclude I, since that God of heaven\r\nWill not that these philosophers neven*                            *name\r\nHow that a man shall come unto this stone,\r\nI rede* as for the best to let it gon.                          *counsel\r\nFor whoso maketh God his adversary,\r\nAs for to work any thing in contrary\r\nOf his will, certes never shall he thrive,\r\nThough that he multiply term of his live. <23>\r\nAnd there a point;* for ended is my tale.                           *end\r\nGod send ev\u2019ry good man *boot of his bale.*      *remedy for his sorrow*\r\n\r\nNote to the Canon\u2019s Yeoman\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n1.  The Tale of the Canon\u2019s Yeoman, like those of the Wife of\r\nBath and the Pardoner, is made up of two parts; a long\r\ngeneral introduction, and the story proper. In the case of the\r\nWife of Bath, the interruptions of other pilgrims, and the\r\nautobiographical nature of the discourse, recommend the\r\nseparation of the prologue from the Tale proper; but in the\r\nother cases the introductory or merely connecting matter\r\nceases wholly where the opening of \u201cThe Tale\u201d has been\r\nmarked in the text.\r\n\r\n2. Jupartie: Jeopardy, hazard.  In Froissart\u2019s French, \u201ca jeu\r\npartie\u201d is used to signify a game or contest in which the\r\nchances were exactly equal for both sides.\r\n\r\n3. Squames: Scales; Latin, \u201csquamae.\u201d\r\n\r\n4. Descensories: vessels for distillation \u201cper descensum;\u201d they\r\nwere placed under the fire, and the spirit to be extracted was\r\nthrown downwards.\r\nCroslets: crucibles; French, \u201ccreuset.\u201d.\r\nCucurbites: retorts; distilling-vessels; so called from their\r\nlikeness in shape to a gourd \u2014 Latin, \u201ccucurbita.\u201d\r\nAlembikes:stills, limbecs.\r\n\r\n5. Seared pokettes: the meaning of this phrase is obscure; but\r\nif we take the reading \u201ccered poketts,\u201d from the Harleian\r\nmanuscript, we are led to the supposition that it signifies\r\nreceptacles \u2014 bags or pokes \u2014 prepared with wax for some\r\nprocess. Latin, \u201ccera,\u201d wax.\r\n\r\n6. Argoil: potter\u2019s clay, used for luting or closing vessels in\r\nthe laboratories of the alchemists; Latin, \u201cargilla;\u201d French,\r\n\u201cargile.\u201d\r\n\r\n7. Citrination: turning to a citrine colour, or yellow, by\r\nchemical action; that was the colour which proved the\r\nphilosopher\u2019s stone.\r\n\r\n8. Ingots: not, as in its modern meaning, the masses of metal\r\nshaped by pouring into moulds; but the moulds themslves into\r\nwhich the fused metal was poured. Compare Dutch,\r\n\u201cingieten,\u201d part. \u201cinghehoten,\u201d to infuse; German,\r\n\u201ceingiessen,\u201d part. \u201ceingegossen,\u201d to pour in.\r\n\r\n9. Threpe: name; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cthreapian.\u201d\r\n\r\n10. Bratt:  coarse cloak; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cbratt.\u201d The word is\r\nstill used in Lincolnshire, and some parts of the north, to\r\nsignify a coarse kind of apron.\r\n\r\n11. Long on: in consequence of; the modern vulgar phrase \u201call\r\nalong of,\u201d or \u201call along on,\u201d best conveys the force of the\r\nwords in the text.\r\n\r\n12. Annualere: a priest employed in singing \u201cannuals\u201d or\r\nanniversary masses for the dead, without any cure of souls;\r\nthe office was such as, in the Prologue to the Tales, Chaucer\r\npraises the Parson for not seeking: Nor \u201cran unto London,\r\nunto Saint Poul\u2019s, to seeke him a chantery for souls.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. Mortify:  a chemical phrase, signifying the dissolution of\r\nquicksilver in acid.\r\n\r\n14. Blin: cease; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cblinnan,\u201d to desist.\r\n\r\n15. Name: took; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cniman,\u201d to take.\r\nCompare German, \u201cnehmen,\u201d \u201cnahm.\u201d\r\n\r\n16. Los: praise, reputataion. See note 5 to Chaucer\u2019s tale of\r\nMelib\u0153us.\r\n\r\n17. Grame: sorrow; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cgram;\u201d German, \u201cGram.\u201d\r\n\r\n18. Arnaldus Villanovanus, or Arnold de Villeneuve, was a\r\ndistinguished French chemist and physician of the fourteenth\r\ncentury; his \u201cRosarium Philosophorum\u201d was a favourite text-book\r\nwith the alchemists of the generations that succeeded.\r\n\r\n19. Hermes Trismegistus, counsellor of Osiris, King of\r\nEgypt, was credited with the invention of writing and\r\nhieroglyphics, the drawing up of the laws of the Egyptians,\r\nand the origination of many sciences and arts. The\r\nAlexandrian school ascribed to him the mystic learning which\r\nit amplified; and the scholars of the Middle Ages regarded\r\nwith enthusiasm and reverence the works attributed to him \u2014\r\nnotably a treatise on the philosopher\u2019s stone.\r\n\r\n20. Secret of secrets: \u201cSecreta Secretorum;\u201d a treatise, very\r\npopular in the Middle Ages, supposed to contain the sum of\r\nAristotle\u2019s instructions to Alexander. Lydgate translated about\r\nhalf of the work, when his labour was interrupted by his death\r\nabout 1460; and from the same treatise had been taken most\r\nof the seventh book of Gower\u2019s \u201cConfessio Amantis.\u201d\r\n\r\n21. Tyrwhitt says that this book was printed in the \u201cTheatrum\r\nChemicum,\u201d under the title, \u201cSenioris Zadith fi. Hamuelis\r\ntabula chymica\u201d (\u201cThe chemical tables of Senior Zadith, son\r\nof Hamuel\u201d); and the story here told of Plato and his disciple\r\nwas there related of Solomon, but with some variations.\r\n\r\n22. Ignotum per ignotius: To explain the unknown by the\r\nmore unknown.\r\n\r\n23. Though he multiply term of his live: Though he pursue the\r\nalchemist\u2019s art all his days.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE MANCIPLE\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nWEET* ye not where there stands a little town,                     *know\r\nWhich that y-called is Bob-up-and-down, <1>\r\nUnder the Blee, in Canterbury way?\r\nThere gan our Hoste for to jape and play,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cSirs, what? Dun is in the mire.<2>\r\nIs there no man, for prayer nor for hire,\r\nThat will awaken our fellow behind?\r\nA thief him might full* rob and bind                             *easily\r\nSee how he nappeth, see, for cocke\u2019s bones,\r\nAs he would falle from his horse at ones.\r\nIs that a Cook of London, with mischance? <3>\r\nDo* him come forth, he knoweth his penance;                        *make\r\nFor he shall tell a tale, by my fay,*                             *faith\r\nAlthough it be not worth a bottle hay.\r\n\r\nAwake, thou Cook,\u201d quoth he; \u201cGod give thee sorrow\r\nWhat aileth thee to sleepe *by the morrow?*            *in the day time*\r\nHast thou had fleas all night, or art drunk?\r\nOr had thou with some quean* all night y-swunk,**      *whore **laboured\r\nSo that thou mayest not hold up thine head?\u201d\r\nThe Cook, that was full pale and nothing red,\r\nSaid to Host, \u201cSo God my soule bless,\r\nAs there is fall\u2019n on me such heaviness,\r\nI know not why, that me were lever* sleep,                       *rather\r\nThan the best gallon wine that is in Cheap.\u201d\r\n\u201cWell,\u201d quoth the Manciple, \u201cif it may do ease\r\nTo thee, Sir Cook, and to no wight displease\r\nWhich that here rideth in this company,\r\nAnd that our Host will of his courtesy,\r\nI will as now excuse thee of thy tale;\r\nFor in good faith thy visage is full pale:\r\nThine eyen daze,* soothly as me thinketh,                       *are dim\r\nAnd well I wot, thy breath full soure stinketh,\r\nThat sheweth well thou art not well disposed;\r\nOf me certain thou shalt not be y-glosed.*                    *flattered\r\nSee how he yawneth, lo, this drunken wight,\r\nAs though he would us swallow anon right.\r\nHold close thy mouth, man, by thy father\u2019s kin;\r\nThe devil of helle set his foot therein!\r\nThy cursed breath infecte will us all:\r\nFy! stinking swine, fy! foul may thee befall.\r\nAh! take heed, Sirs, of this lusty man.\r\nNow, sweete Sir, will ye joust at the fan?<4>\r\nThereto, me thinketh, ye be well y-shape.\r\nI trow that ye have drunken wine of ape,<5>\r\nAnd that is when men playe with a straw.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with this speech the Cook waxed all wraw,*                 *wrathful\r\nAnd on the Manciple he gan nod fast\r\nFor lack of speech; and down his horse him cast,\r\nWhere as he lay, till that men him up took.\r\nThis was a fair chevachie* of a cook:                *cavalry expedition\r\nAlas! that he had held him by his ladle!\r\nAnd ere that he again were in the saddle\r\nThere was great shoving bothe to and fro\r\nTo lift him up, and muche care and woe,\r\nSo unwieldy was this silly paled ghost.\r\nAnd to the Manciple then spake our Host:\r\n\u201cBecause that drink hath domination\r\nUpon this man, by my salvation\r\nI trow he lewedly* will tell his tale.                         *stupidly\r\nFor were it wine, or old or moisty* ale,                            *new\r\nThat he hath drunk, he speaketh in his nose,\r\nAnd sneezeth fast, and eke he hath the pose <6>\r\nHe also hath to do more than enough\r\nTo keep him on his capel* out of the slough;                      *horse\r\nAnd if he fall from off his capel eftsoon,*                       *again\r\nThen shall we alle have enough to do\u2019n\r\nIn lifting up his heavy drunken corse.\r\nTell on thy tale, of him *make I no force.*          *I take no account*\r\nBut yet, Manciple, in faith thou art too nice*                  *foolish\r\nThus openly to reprove him of his vice;\r\nAnother day he will paraventure\r\nReclaime thee, and bring thee to the lure; <7>\r\nI mean, he speake will of smalle things,\r\nAs for to *pinchen at* thy reckonings,                   *pick flaws in*\r\nThat were not honest, if it came to prefe.\u201d*                *test, proof\r\nQuoth the Manciple, \u201cThat were a great mischief;\r\nSo might he lightly bring me in the snare.\r\nYet had I lever* paye for the mare                               *rather\r\nWhich he rides on, than he should with me strive.\r\nI will not wrathe him, so may I thrive)\r\nThat that I spake, I said it in my bourde.*                        *jest\r\nAnd weet ye what? I have here in my gourd\r\nA draught of wine, yea, of a ripe grape,\r\nAnd right anon ye shall see a good jape.*                         *trick\r\nThis Cook shall drink thereof, if that I may;\r\nOn pain of my life he will not say nay.\u201d\r\nAnd certainly, to tellen as it was,\r\nOf this vessel the cook drank fast (alas!\r\nWhat needed it? he drank enough beforn),\r\nAnd when he hadde *pouped in his horn,*                        *belched*\r\nTo the Manciple he took the gourd again.\r\nAnd of that drink the Cook was wondrous fain,\r\nAnd thanked him in such wise as he could.\r\n\r\nThen gan our Host to laughe wondrous loud,\r\nAnd said, \u201cI see well it is necessary\r\nWhere that we go good drink with us to carry;\r\nFor that will turne rancour and disease*             *trouble, annoyance\r\nT\u2019accord and love, and many a wrong appease.\r\nO Bacchus, Bacchus, blessed be thy name,\r\nThat so canst turnen earnest into game!\r\nWorship and thank be to thy deity.\r\nOf that mattere ye get no more of me.\r\nTell on thy tale, Manciple, I thee pray.\u201d\r\n\u201cWell, Sir,\u201d quoth he, \u201cnow hearken what I say.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Manciple\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Bob-up-and-down: Mr Wright supposes this to be the village of\r\nHarbledown, near Canterbury, which  is situated on a hill, and near\r\nwhich there are many ups and downs in the road. Like Boughton,\r\nwhere the Canon and his Yeoman overtook the pilgrims, it stood on\r\nthe skirts of the Kentish forest of Blean or Blee.\r\n\r\n2. Dun is in the mire: a proverbial saying. \u201cDun\u201d is a name for an\r\nass, derived from his colour.\r\n\r\n3. The mention of the Cook here, with no hint that he had already\r\ntold a story, confirms the indication given by the imperfect\r\ncondition of his Tale, that Chaucer intended to suppress the Tale\r\naltogether, and make him tell a story in some other place.\r\n\r\n4. The quintain; called \u201cfan\u201d or \u201cvane,\u201d because it turned round like\r\na weather-cock.\r\n\r\n5. Referring to the classification of wine, according to its effects on\r\na man, given in the old \u201cCalendrier des Bergiers,\u201d The man of\r\ncholeric temperament has \u201cwine of lion;\u201d the sanguine, \u201cwine of\r\nape;\u201d the phlegmatic, \u201cwine of sheep;\u201d the melancholic, \u201cwine of\r\nsow.\u201d There is a Rabbinical tradition that, when Noah was planting\r\nvines, Satan slaughtered beside them the four animals named; hence\r\nthe effect of wine in making those who drink it display in turn the\r\ncharacteristics of all the four.\r\n\r\n6. The pose:  a defluxion or rheum which stops the nose and\r\nobstructs the voice.\r\n\r\n7. Bring thee to his lure: A phrase in hawking \u2014 to recall a hawk to\r\nthe fist; the meaning here is, that the Cook may one day bring the\r\nManciple to account, or pay him off, for the rebuke of his\r\ndrunkenness.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\nWhen Phoebus dwelled here in earth adown,\r\nAs olde bookes make mentioun,\r\nHe was the moste lusty* bacheler                               *pleasant\r\nOf all this world, and eke* the best archer.                       *also\r\nHe slew Python the serpent, as he lay\r\nSleeping against the sun upon a day;\r\nAnd many another noble worthy deed\r\nHe with his bow wrought, as men maye read.\r\nPlayen he could on every minstrelsy,\r\nAnd singe, that it was a melody\r\nTo hearen of his cleare voice the soun\u2019.\r\nCertes the king of Thebes, Amphioun,\r\nThat with his singing walled the city,\r\nCould never singe half so well as he.\r\nThereto he was the seemlieste man\r\nThat is, or was since that the world began;\r\nWhat needeth it his features to descrive?\r\nFor in this world is none so fair alive.\r\nHe was therewith full fill\u2019d of gentleness,\r\nOf honour, and of perfect worthiness.\r\n\r\nThis Phoebus, that was flower of bach\u2019lery,\r\nAs well in freedom* as in chivalry,                          *generosity\r\nFor his disport, in sign eke of victory\r\nOf Python, so as telleth us the story,\r\nWas wont to bearen in his hand a bow.\r\nNow had this Phoebus in his house a crow,\r\nWhich in a cage he foster\u2019d many a day,\r\nAnd taught it speaken, as men teach a jay.\r\nWhite was this crow, as is a snow-white swan,\r\nAnd counterfeit the speech of every man\r\nHe coulde, when he shoulde tell a tale.\r\nTherewith in all this world no nightingale\r\nNe coulde by an hundred thousand deal*                             *part\r\nSinge so wondrous merrily and well.\r\nNow had this Phoebus in his house a wife;\r\nWhich that he loved more than his life.\r\nAnd night and day did ever his diligence\r\nHer for to please, and do her reverence:\r\nSave only, if that I the sooth shall sayn,\r\nJealous he was, and would have kept her fain.\r\nFor him were loth y-japed* for to be;                 *tricked, deceived\r\nAnd so is every wight in such degree;\r\nBut all for nought, for it availeth nought.\r\nA good wife, that is clean of work and thought,\r\nShould not be kept in none await* certain:                  *observation\r\nAnd truely the labour is in vain\r\nTo keep a shrewe,* for it will not be.               *ill-disposed woman\r\nThis hold I for a very nicety,*                             *sheer folly\r\nTo spille* labour for to keepe wives;                              *lose\r\n\r\nThus writen olde clerkes in their lives.\r\nBut now to purpose, as I first began.\r\nThis worthy Phoebus did all that he can\r\nTo please her, weening, through such pleasance,\r\nAnd for his manhood and his governance,\r\nThat no man should have put him from her grace;\r\nBut, God it wot, there may no man embrace\r\nAs to distrain* a thing, which that nature      *succeed in constraining\r\nHath naturally set in a creature.\r\nTake any bird, and put it in a cage,\r\nAnd do all thine intent, and thy corage,*        *what thy heart prompts\r\nTo foster it tenderly with meat and drink\r\nOf alle dainties that thou canst bethink,\r\nAnd keep it all so cleanly as thou may;\r\nAlthough the cage of gold be never so gay,\r\nYet had this bird, by twenty thousand fold,\r\nLever* in a forest, both wild and cold,                          *rather\r\nGo eate wormes, and such wretchedness.\r\nFor ever this bird will do his business\r\nT\u2019escape out of his cage when that he may:\r\nHis liberty the bird desireth aye. <2>\r\nLet take a cat, and foster her with milk\r\nAnd tender flesh, and make her couch of silk,\r\nAnd let her see a mouse go by the wall,\r\nAnon she weiveth* milk, and flesh, and all,                   *forsaketh\r\nAnd every dainty that is in that house,\r\nSuch appetite hath she to eat the mouse.\r\nLo, here hath kind* her domination,                              *nature\r\nAnd appetite flemeth* discretion.                            *drives out\r\nA she-wolf hath also a villain\u2019s kind\r\nThe lewedeste wolf that she may find,\r\nOr least of reputation, will she take\r\nIn time when *her lust* to have a make.*              *she desires *mate\r\nAll these examples speak I by* these men              *with reference to\r\nThat be untrue, and nothing by women.\r\nFor men have ever a lik\u2019rous appetite\r\nOn lower things to perform their delight\r\nThan on their wives, be they never so fair,\r\nNever so true, nor so debonair.*                           *gentle, mild\r\nFlesh is so newefangled, *with mischance,*              *ill luck to it*\r\nThat we can in no thinge have pleasance\r\nThat *souneth unto* virtue any while.                      *accords with\r\n\r\nThis Phoebus, which that thought upon no guile,\r\nDeceived was for all his jollity;\r\nFor under him another hadde she,\r\nA man of little reputation,\r\nNought worth to Phoebus in comparison.\r\nThe more harm is; it happens often so,\r\nOf which there cometh muche harm and woe.\r\nAnd so befell, when Phoebus was absent,\r\nHis wife anon hath for her leman* sent.                  *unlawful lover\r\nHer leman! certes that is a knavish speech.\r\nForgive it me, and that I you beseech.\r\nThe wise Plato saith, as ye may read,\r\nThe word must needs accorde with the deed;\r\nIf men shall telle properly a thing,\r\nThe word must cousin be to the working.\r\nI am a boistous* man, right thus I say.         *rough-spoken, downright\r\nThere is no difference truely\r\nBetwixt a wife that is of high degree\r\n(If of her body dishonest she be),\r\nAnd any poore wench, other than this\r\n(If it so be they worke both amiss),\r\nBut, for* the gentle is in estate above,                        *because\r\nShe shall be call\u2019d his lady and his love;\r\nAnd, for that other is a poor woman,\r\nShe shall be call\u2019d his wench and his leman:\r\nAnd God it wot, mine owen deare brother,\r\nMen lay the one as low as lies the other.\r\nRight so betwixt a *titleless tyrant*                          *usurper*\r\nAnd an outlaw, or else a thief errant,                        *wandering\r\nThe same I say, there is no difference\r\n(To Alexander told was this sentence),\r\nBut, for the tyrant is of greater might\r\nBy force of meinie* for to slay downright,                    *followers\r\nAnd burn both house and home, and make all plain,*                *level\r\nLo, therefore is he call\u2019d a capitain;\r\nAnd, for the outlaw hath but small meinie,\r\nAnd may not do so great an harm as he,\r\nNor bring a country to so great mischief,\r\nMen calle him an outlaw or a thief.\r\nBut, for I am a man not textuel,                       *learned in texts\r\nI will not tell of texts never a deal;*                            *whit\r\nI will go to my tale, as I began.\r\n\r\nWhen Phoebus\u2019 wife had sent for her leman,\r\nAnon they wroughten all their *lust volage.*    *light or rash pleasure*\r\nThis white crow, that hung aye in the cage,\r\nBeheld their work, and said never a word;\r\nAnd when that home was come Phoebus the lord,\r\nThis crowe sung, \u201cCuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat? bird,\u201d quoth Phoebus, \u201cwhat song sing\u2019st thou now?\r\nWert thou not wont so merrily to sing,\r\nThat to my heart it was a rejoicing\r\nTo hear thy voice? alas! what song is this?\u201d\r\n\u201cBy God,\u201d quoth he, \u201cI singe not amiss.\r\nPhoebus,\u201d quoth he, \u201cfor all thy worthiness,\r\nFor all thy beauty, and all thy gentleness,\r\nFor all thy song, and all thy minstrelsy,\r\n*For all thy waiting, bleared is thine eye*   *despite all thy watching,\r\nWith one of little reputation,                        thou art befooled*\r\nNot worth to thee, as in comparison,\r\nThe mountance* of a gnat, so may I thrive;                        *value\r\nFor on thy bed thy wife I saw him swive.\u201d\r\nWhat will ye more? the crow anon him told,\r\nBy sade* tokens, and by wordes bold,                 *grave, trustworthy\r\nHow that his wife had done her lechery,\r\nTo his great shame and his great villainy;\r\nAnd told him oft, he saw it with his eyen.\r\nThis Phoebus gan awayward for to wrien;*                     *turn aside\r\nHim thought his woeful hearte burst in two.\r\nHis bow he bent, and set therein a flo,*                          *arrow\r\nAnd in his ire he hath his wife slain;\r\nThis is th\u2019 effect, there is no more to sayn.\r\nFor sorrow of which he brake his minstrelsy,\r\nBoth harp and lute, gitern* and psaltery;                        *guitar\r\nAnd eke he brake his arrows and his bow;\r\nAnd after that thus spake he to the crow.\r\n\r\n\u201cTraitor,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwith tongue of scorpion,\r\nThou hast me brought to my confusion;\r\nAlas that I was wrought!* why n\u2019ere** I dead?            *made **was not\r\nO deare wife, O gem of lustihead,*                         *pleasantness\r\nThat wert to me so sad,* and eke so true,                     *steadfast\r\nNow liest thou dead, with face pale of hue,\r\nFull guilteless, that durst I swear y-wis!*                   *certainly\r\nO rakel* hand, to do so foul amiss                          *rash, hasty\r\nO troubled wit, O ire reckeless,\r\nThat unadvised smit\u2019st the guilteless!\r\nO wantrust,* full of false suspicion!                      *distrust <3>\r\nWhere was thy wit and thy discretion?\r\nO! every man beware of rakelness,*                             *rashness\r\nNor trow* no thing withoute strong witness.                     *believe\r\nSmite not too soon, ere that ye weete* why,                        *know\r\nAnd *be advised* well and sickerly**                  *consider* *surely\r\nEre ye *do any execution                                *take any action\r\nUpon your ire* for suspicion.                           upon your anger*\r\nAlas! a thousand folk hath rakel ire\r\nFoully fordone, and brought them in the mire.\r\nAlas! for sorrow I will myself slee*                               *slay\r\nAnd to the crow, \u201cO false thief,\u201d said he,\r\n\u201cI will thee quite anon thy false tale.\r\nThou sung whilom* like any nightingale,                  *once on a time\r\nNow shalt thou, false thief, thy song foregon,*                    *lose\r\nAnd eke thy white feathers every one,\r\nNor ever in all thy life shalt thou speak;\r\nThus shall men on a traitor be awreak.                         *revenged\r\nThou and thine offspring ever shall be blake,*                    *black\r\nNor ever sweete noise shall ye make,\r\nBut ever cry against* tempest and rain,           *before, in warning of\r\nIn token that through thee my wife is slain.\u201d\r\nAnd to the crow he start,* and that anon,                        *sprang\r\nAnd pull\u2019d his white feathers every one,\r\nAnd made him black, and reft him all his song,\r\nAnd eke his speech, and out at door him flung\r\nUnto the devil, *which I him betake;*            *to whom I commend him*\r\nAnd for this cause be all crowes blake.\r\nLordings, by this ensample, I you pray,\r\nBeware, and take keep* what that ye say;                           *heed\r\nNor telle never man in all your life\r\nHow that another man hath dight his wife;\r\nHe will you hate mortally certain.\r\nDan Solomon, as wise clerkes sayn,\r\nTeacheth a man to keep his tongue well;\r\nBut, as I said, I am not textuel.\r\nBut natheless thus taughte me my dame;\r\n\u201cMy son, think on the crow, in Godde\u2019s name.\r\nMy son, keep well thy tongue, and keep thy friend;\r\nA wicked tongue is worse than is a fiend:\r\nMy sone, from a fiend men may them bless.*           *defend by crossing\r\nMy son, God of his endeless goodness                          themselves\r\nWalled a tongue with teeth, and lippes eke,\r\nFor* man should him advise,** what he speak.         *because **consider\r\nMy son, full often for too muche speech\r\nHath many a man been spilt,* as clerkes teach;                *destroyed\r\nBut for a little speech advisedly\r\nIs no man shent,* to speak generally.                            *ruined\r\nMy son, thy tongue shouldest thou restrain\r\nAt alle time, *but when thou dost thy pain*          *except when you do\r\nTo speak of God in honour and prayere.                 your best effort*\r\nThe firste virtue, son, if thou wilt lear,*                       *learn\r\nIs to restrain and keepe well thy tongue;<4>\r\nThus learne children, when that they be young.\r\nMy son, of muche speaking evil advis\u2019d,\r\nWhere lesse speaking had enough suffic\u2019d,\r\nCometh much harm; thus was me told and taught;\r\nIn muche speeche sinne wanteth not.\r\nWost* thou whereof a rakel** tongue serveth?            *knowest **hasty\r\nRight as a sword forcutteth and forcarveth\r\nAn arm in two, my deare son, right so\r\nA tongue cutteth friendship all in two.\r\nA jangler* is  to God abominable.                           *prating man\r\nRead Solomon, so wise and honourable;\r\nRead David in his Psalms, and read Senec\u2019.\r\nMy son, speak not, but with thine head thou beck,*          *beckon, nod\r\nDissimule as thou wert deaf, if that thou hear\r\nA jangler speak of perilous mattere.\r\nThe Fleming saith, and learn *if that thee lest,*   **if it please thee*\r\nThat little jangling causeth muche rest.\r\nMy son, if thou no wicked word hast said,\r\n*Thee thar not dreade for to be bewray\u2019d;*         *thou hast no need to\r\nBut he that hath missaid, I dare well sayn,         fear to be betrayed*\r\nHe may by no way call his word again.\r\nThing that is said is said, and forth it go\u2019th, <5>\r\nThough him repent, or be he ne\u2019er so loth;\r\nHe is his thrall,* to whom that he hath said                      *slave\r\nA tale, *of which he is now evil apaid.*          *which he now regrets*\r\nMy son, beware, and be no author new\r\nOf tidings, whether they be false or true; <6>\r\nWhereso thou come, amonges high or low,\r\nKeep well thy tongue, and think upon the crow.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Manciple\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. \u201cThe fable of \u2018The Crow,\u2019 says Tyrwhitt, \u201cwhich is the\r\nsubject of the Manciple\u2019s Tale, has been related by so many\r\nauthors, from Ovid down to Gower, that it is impossible to\r\nsay whom Chaucer principally followed. His skill in new\r\ndressing an old story was never, perhaps, more successfully\r\nexerted.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. See the parallel to this passage in the Squire\u2019s Tale, and\r\nnote 34 to that tale.\r\n\r\n3. Wantrust: distrust \u2014 want of trust; so \u201cwanhope,\u201d despair -\r\n- want of hope.\r\n\r\n4. This is quoted in the French \u201cRomance of the Rose,\u201d from\r\nCato \u201cDe Moribus,\u201d 1. i., dist. 3: \u201cVirtutem primam esse puta\r\ncompescere linguam.\u201d (\u201cThe first virtue is to be able to\r\ncontrol the tongue\u201d)\r\n\r\n5. \u201cSemel emissum volat irrevocabile verbum.\u201d (\u201cA word once\r\nuttered flies away and cannot be called back\u201d)   \u2014 Horace,\r\nEpist. 1., 18, 71.\r\n\r\n6. This caution is also from Cato \u201cDe Moribus,\u201d 1. i., dist.\r\n12: \u201cRumoris fuge ne incipias novus auctor haberi.\u201d (\u201cDo not\r\npass on rumours or be the author of new ones\u201d)\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PARSON\u2019S TALE.\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE.\r\n\r\nBy that the Manciple his tale had ended,\r\nThe sunne from the south line was descended\r\nSo lowe, that it was not to my sight\r\nDegrees nine-and-twenty as in height.\r\nFour of the clock it was then, as I guess,\r\nFor eleven foot, a little more or less,\r\nMy shadow was at thilke time, as there,\r\nOf such feet as my lengthe parted were\r\nIn six feet equal of proportion.\r\nTherewith the moone\u2019s exaltation,*                               *rising\r\n*In meane* Libra, gan alway ascend,                   *in the middle of*\r\nAs we were ent\u2019ring at a thorpe\u2019s* end.                       *village\u2019s\r\nFor which our Host, as he was wont to gie,*                      *govern\r\nAs in this case, our jolly company,\r\nSaid in this wise; \u201cLordings every one,\r\nNow lacketh us no more tales than one.\r\nFulfill\u2019d is my sentence and my decree;\r\nI trow that we have heard of each degree.*       from each class or rank\r\nAlmost fulfilled is mine ordinance;                       in the company\r\nI pray to God so give him right good chance\r\nThat telleth us this tale lustily.\r\nSir Priest,\u201d quoth he, \u201cart thou a vicary?*                       *vicar\r\nOr art thou a Parson? say sooth by thy fay.*                      *faith\r\nBe what thou be, breake thou not our play;\r\nFor every man, save thou, hath told his tale.\r\nUnbuckle, and shew us what is in thy mail.*                      *wallet\r\nFor truely me thinketh by thy cheer\r\nThou shouldest knit up well a great mattere.\r\nTell us a fable anon, for cocke\u2019s bones.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis Parson him answered all at ones;\r\n\u201cThou gettest fable none y-told for me,\r\nFor Paul, that writeth unto Timothy,\r\nReproveth them that *weive soothfastness,*               *forsake truth*\r\nAnd telle fables, and such wretchedness.\r\nWhy should I sowe draff* out of my fist,                  *chaff, refuse\r\nWhen I may sowe wheat, if that me list?\r\nFor which I say, if that you list to hear\r\nMorality and virtuous mattere,\r\nAnd then that ye will give me audience,\r\nI would full fain at Christe\u2019s reverence\r\nDo you pleasance lawful, as I can.\r\nBut, truste well, I am a southern man,\r\nI cannot gest,* rom, ram, ruf, <1> by my letter;         *relate stories\r\nAnd, God wot, rhyme hold I but little better.\r\nAnd therefore if you list, I will not glose,*             *mince matters\r\nI will you tell a little tale in prose,\r\nTo knit up all this feast, and make an end.\r\nAnd Jesus for his grace wit me send\r\nTo shewe you the way, in this voyage,\r\nOf thilke perfect glorious pilgrimage, <2>\r\nThat hight Jerusalem celestial.\r\nAnd if ye vouchesafe, anon I shall\r\nBegin upon my tale, for which I pray\r\nTell your advice,* I can no better say.                         *opinion\r\nBut natheless this meditation\r\nI put it aye under correction\r\nOf clerkes,* for I am not textuel;                             *scholars\r\nI take but the sentence,* trust me well.                 *meaning, sense\r\nTherefore I make a protestation,\r\nThat I will stande to correction.\u201d\r\nUpon this word we have assented soon;\r\nFor, as us seemed, it was *for to do\u2019n,*           *a thing worth doing*\r\nTo enden in some virtuous sentence,*                          *discourse\r\nAnd for to give him space and audience;\r\nAnd bade our Host he shoulde to him say\r\nThat alle we to tell his tale him pray.\r\nOur Hoste had. the wordes for us all:\r\n\u201cSir Priest,\u201d quoth he, \u201cnow faire you befall;\r\nSay what you list, and we shall gladly hear.\u201d\r\nAnd with that word he said in this mannere;\r\n\u201cTelle,\u201d quoth he, \u201cyour meditatioun,\r\nBut hasten you, the sunne will adown.\r\nBe fructuous,* and that in little space;           *fruitful; profitable\r\nAnd to do well God sende you his grace.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prologue to the Parson\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Rom, ram, ruf: a contemptuous reference to the alliterative\r\npoetry which was at that time very popular, in preference even,\r\nit would seem, to rhyme, in the northern parts of the country,\r\nwhere the language was much more barbarous and unpolished\r\nthan in the south.\r\n\r\n2. Perfect glorious pilgrimage:  the word is used here to signify\r\nthe shrine, or destination, to which pilgrimage is made.\r\n\r\nTHE TALE. <1>\r\n\r\n[The Parson begins his \u201clittle treatise\u201d -(which, if given at\r\nlength, would extend to about thirty of these pages, and which\r\ncannot by any stretch of courtesy or fancy be said to merit the\r\ntitle of a \u201cTale\u201d) in these words: \u2014]\r\n\r\nOur sweet Lord God of Heaven, that no man will perish, but\r\nwill that we come all to the knowledge of him, and to the\r\nblissful life that is perdurable [everlasting], admonishes us by\r\nthe prophet Jeremiah, that saith in this wise: \u201cStand upon the\r\nways, and see and ask of old paths, that is to say, of old\r\nsentences, which is the good way, and walk in that way, and ye\r\nshall find refreshing for your souls,\u201d <2> &c.  Many be the\r\nspiritual ways that lead folk to our Lord Jesus Christ, and to the\r\nreign of glory; of which ways there is a full noble way, and full\r\nconvenable, which may not fail to man nor to woman, that\r\nthrough sin hath misgone from the right way of Jerusalem\r\ncelestial; and this way is called penitence. Of which men should\r\ngladly hearken and inquire with all their hearts, to wit what is\r\npenitence, and whence it is called penitence, and in what\r\nmanner, and in how many manners, be the actions or workings\r\nof penitence, and how many species there be of penitences, and\r\nwhat things appertain and behove to penitence, and what things\r\ndisturb penitence.\r\n\r\n[Penitence is described, on the authority of Saints Ambrose,\r\nIsidore, and Gregory, as the bewailing of sin that has been\r\nwrought, with the purpose never again to do that thing, or any\r\nother thing which a man should bewail; for weeping and not\r\nceasing to do the sin will not avail \u2014 though it is to be hoped\r\nthat after every time that a man falls, be it ever so often, he may\r\nfind grace to arise through penitence. And repentant folk that\r\nleave their sin ere sin leave them, are accounted by Holy Church\r\nsure of their salvation, even though the repentance be at the last\r\nhour. There are three actions of penitence; that a man be\r\nbaptized after he has sinned; that he do no deadly sin after\r\nreceiving baptism; and that he fall into no venial sins from day\r\nto day. \u201cThereof saith St Augustine, that penitence of good and\r\nhumble folk is the penitence of every day.\u201d The species of\r\npenitence are three: solemn, when a man is openly expelled\r\nfrom Holy Church in Lent, or is compelled by Holy Church to\r\ndo open penance for an open sin openly talked of in the\r\ncountry; common penance, enjoined by priests in certain cases,\r\nas to go on pilgrimage naked or barefoot; and privy penance,\r\nwhich men do daily for private sins, of which they confess\r\nprivately and receive private penance. To very perfect penitence\r\nare behoveful and necessary three things: contrition of heart,\r\nconfession of mouth, and satisfaction; which are fruitful\r\npenitence against delight in thinking, reckless speech, and\r\nwicked sinful works.\r\n\r\nPenitence may be likened to a tree, having its root in contrition,\r\nbiding itself in the heart as a tree-root does in the earth; out of\r\nthis root springs a stalk, that bears branches and leaves of\r\nconfession, and fruit of satisfaction. Of this root also springs a\r\nseed of grace, which is mother of all security, and this seed is\r\neager and hot; and the grace of this seed springs of God,\r\nthrough remembrance on the day of judgment and on the pains\r\nof hell. The heat of this seed is the love of God, and the desire\r\nof everlasting joy; and this heat draws the heart of man to God,\r\nand makes him hate his sin. Penance is the tree of life to them\r\nthat receive it. In penance or contrition man shall understand\r\nfour things: what is contrition; what are the causes that move a\r\nman to contrition; how he should be contrite; and what\r\ncontrition availeth to the soul. Contrition is the heavy and\r\ngrievous sorrow that a man receiveth in his heart for his sins,\r\nwith earnest purpose to confess and do penance, and never\r\nmore to sin. Six causes ought to move a man to contrition: 1.\r\nHe should remember him of his sins; 2. He should reflect that\r\nsin putteth a man in great thraldom, and all the greater the\r\nhigher is the estate from which he falls; 3. He should dread the\r\nday of doom and the horrible pains of hell; 4. The sorrowful\r\nremembrance of the good deeds that  man hath omitted to do\r\nhere on earth, and also the good that he hath lost, ought to\r\nmake him have contrition; 5. So also ought the remembrance of\r\nthe passion that our Lord Jesus Christ suffered for our sins; 6.\r\nAnd so ought the hope of three things, that is to say,\r\nforgiveness of sin, the gift of grace to do well, and the glory of\r\nheaven with which God shall reward man for his good deeds. \u2014\r\nAll these points the Parson illustrates and enforces at length;\r\nwaxing especially eloquent under the third head, and plainly\r\nsetting forth the sternly realistic notions regarding future\r\npunishments that were entertained in the time of Chaucer:-] <3>\r\n\r\nCertes, all the sorrow that a man might make from the\r\nbeginning of the world, is but a little thing, at retard of [in\r\ncomparison with] the sorrow of hell. The cause why that Job\r\ncalleth hell the land of darkness; <4> understand, that he calleth\r\nit land or earth, for it is stable and never shall fail, and dark, for\r\nhe that is in hell hath default [is devoid] of light natural; for\r\ncertes the dark light, that shall come out of the fire that ever\r\nshall burn, shall turn them all to pain that be in hell, for it\r\nsheweth them the horrible devils that them torment. Covered\r\nwith the darkness of death; that is to say, that he that is in hell\r\nshall have default of the sight of God; for certes the sight of\r\nGod is the life perdurable [everlasting]. The darkness of death,\r\nbe the sins that the wretched man hath done, which that disturb\r\n[prevent] him to see the face of God, right as a dark cloud doth\r\nbetween us and the sun. Land of misease, because there be three\r\nmanner of defaults against three things that folk of this world\r\nhave in this present life; that is to say, honours, delights, and\r\nriches. Against honour have they in hell shame and confusion:\r\nfor well ye wot, that men call honour the reverence that man\r\ndoth to man; but in hell is no honour nor reverence; for certes\r\nno more reverence shall be done there to a king than to a knave\r\n[servant]. For which God saith by the prophet Jeremiah; \u201cThe\r\nfolk that me despise shall be in despite.\u201d Honour is also called\r\ngreat lordship. There shall no wight serve other, but of harm\r\nand torment. Honour is also called great dignity and highness;\r\nbut in hell shall they be all fortrodden [trampled under foot] of\r\ndevils. As God saith, \u201cThe horrible devils shall go and come\r\nupon the heads of damned folk;\u201d and this is, forasmuch as the\r\nhigher that they were in this present life, the more shall they be\r\nabated [abased] and defouled in hell. Against the riches of this\r\nworld shall they have misease [trouble, torment] of poverty, and\r\nthis poverty shall be in four things: in default [want] of treasure;\r\nof which David saith, \u201cThe rich folk that embraced and oned\r\n[united] all their heart to treasure of this world, shall sleep in the\r\nsleeping of death, and nothing shall they find in their hands of\r\nall their treasure.\u201d And moreover, the misease of hell shall be in\r\ndefault of meat and drink. For God saith thus by Moses, \u201cThey\r\nshall be wasted with hunger, and the birds of hell shall devour\r\nthem with bitter death, and the gall of the dragon shall be their\r\ndrink, and the venom of the dragon their morsels.\u201d And\r\nfurthermore, their misease shall be in default of clothing, for\r\nthey shall be naked in body, as of clothing, save the fire in\r\nwhich they burn, and other filths; and naked shall they be in\r\nsoul, of all manner virtues, which that is the clothing of the soul.\r\nWhere be then the gay robes, and the soft sheets, and the fine\r\nshirts? Lo, what saith of them the prophet Isaiah, that under\r\nthem shall be strewed moths, and their covertures shall be of\r\nworms of hell. And furthermore, their misease shall be in default\r\nof friends, for he is not poor that hath good friends: but there is\r\nno friend; for neither God nor any good creature shall be friend\r\nto them, and evereach of them shall hate other with deadly hate.\r\nThe Sons and the daughters shall rebel against father and\r\nmother, and kindred against kindred, and chide and despise each\r\nother, both day and night, as God saith by the prophet Micah.\r\nAnd the loving children, that whom loved so fleshly each other,\r\nwould each of them eat the other if they might. For how should\r\nthey love together in the pains of hell, when they hated each\r\nother in the prosperity of this life? For trust well, their fleshly\r\nlove was deadly hate; as saith the prophet David; \u201cWhoso\r\nloveth wickedness, he hateth his own soul:\u201d and whoso hateth\r\nhis own soul, certes he may love none other wight in no\r\nmanner: and therefore in hell is no solace nor no friendship, but\r\never the more kindreds that be in hell, the more cursing, the\r\nmore chiding, and the more deadly hate there is among them.\r\nAnd furtherover, they shall have default of all manner delights;\r\nfor certes delights be after the appetites of the five wits\r\n[senses]; as sight, hearing, smelling, savouring [tasting], and\r\ntouching. But in hell their sight shall be full of darkness and of\r\nsmoke, and their eyes full of tears; and their hearing full of\r\nwaimenting [lamenting] and grinting [gnashing] of teeth, as\r\nsaith Jesus Christ; their nostrils shall be full of stinking; and, as\r\nsaith Isaiah the prophet, their savouring  [tasting] shall be full of\r\nbitter gall; and touching of all their body shall be covered with\r\nfire that never shall quench, and with worms that never shall\r\ndie, as God saith by the mouth of Isaiah. And forasmuch as they\r\nshall not ween that they may die for pain, and by death flee from\r\npain, that may they understand in the word of Job, that saith,\r\n\u201cThere is the shadow of death.\u201d Certes a shadow hath the\r\nlikeness of the thing of which it is shadowed, but the shadow is\r\nnot the same thing of which it is shadowed: right so fareth the\r\npain of hell; it is like death, for the horrible anguish; and why?\r\nfor it paineth them ever as though they should die anon; but\r\ncertes they shall not die. For, as saith Saint Gregory, \u201cTo\r\nwretched caitiffs shall be given death without death, and end\r\nwithout end, and default without failing; for their death shall\r\nalways live, and their end shall evermore begin, and their default\r\nshall never fail.\u201d And therefore saith Saint John the Evangelist,\r\n\u201cThey shall follow death, and they shall not find him, and they\r\nshall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.\u201d And eke Job\r\nsaith, that in hell is no order of rule. And albeit that God hath\r\ncreated all things in right order, and nothing without order, but\r\nall things be ordered and numbered, yet nevertheless they that\r\nbe damned be not in order, nor hold no order. For the earth\r\nshall bear them no fruit (for, as the prophet David saith, \u201cGod\r\nshall destroy the fruit of the earth, as for them\u201d); nor water shall\r\ngive them no moisture, nor the air no refreshing, nor the fire no\r\nlight. For as saith Saint Basil, \u201cThe burning of  the fire of this\r\nworld shall God give in hell to them that be damned, but the\r\nlight and the clearness shall be given in heaven to his children;\r\nright as the good man giveth flesh to his children, and bones to\r\nhis hounds.\u201d And for they shall have no hope to escape, saith\r\nJob at last, that there shall horror and grisly dread dwell without\r\nend. Horror is always dread of harm that is to come, and this\r\ndread shall ever dwell in the hearts of them that be damned.\r\nAnd therefore have they lost all their hope for seven causes.\r\nFirst, for God that is their judge shall be without mercy to them;\r\nnor they may not please him; nor none of his hallows [saints];\r\nnor they may give nothing for their ransom; nor they have no\r\nvoice to speak to him; nor they may not flee from pain; nor they\r\nhave no goodness in them that they may shew to deliver them\r\nfrom pain.\r\n\r\n[Under the fourth head, of good works, the Parson says: \u2014]\r\n\r\nThe courteous Lord Jesus Christ will that no good work be lost,\r\nfor in somewhat it shall avail. But forasmuch as the good works\r\nthat men do while they be in good life be all amortised [killed,\r\ndeadened] by sin following, and also since all the good works\r\nthat men do while they be in deadly sin be utterly dead, as for to\r\nhave the life perdurable [everlasting], well may that man that no\r\ngood works doth, sing that new French song, J\u2019ai tout perdu \u2014\r\nmon temps et mon labour <5>. For certes, sin bereaveth a man\r\nboth the goodness of nature, and eke the goodness of grace.\r\nFor soothly the grace of the Holy Ghost fareth like fire, that\r\nmay not be idle; for fire faileth anon as it forleteth [leaveth] its\r\nworking, and right so grace faileth anon as it forleteth its\r\nworking. Then loseth the sinful man the goodness of glory, that\r\nonly is to good men that labour and work. Well may he be sorry\r\nthen, that oweth all his life to God, as long as he hath lived, and\r\nalso as long as he shall live, that no goodness hath to pay with\r\nhis debt to God, to whom he oweth all his life: for trust well he\r\nshall give account, as saith Saint Bernard, of all the goods that\r\nhave been given him in his present life, and how he hath them\r\ndispended, insomuch that there shall not perish an hair of his\r\nhead, nor a moment of an hour shall not perish of his time, that\r\nhe shall not give thereof a reckoning.\r\n\r\n[Having treated of the causes, the Parson comes to the manner,\r\nof contrition \u2014 which should be universal and total, not merely\r\nof outward deeds of sin, but also of wicked delights and\r\nthoughts and words; \u201cfor certes Almighty God is all good, and\r\ntherefore either he forgiveth all, or else right naught.\u201d Further,\r\ncontrition should be \u201cwonder sorrowful and anguishous,\u201d and\r\nalso continual, with steadfast purpose of confession and\r\namendment. Lastly, of what contrition availeth, the Parson says,\r\nthat sometimes it delivereth man from sin; that without it neither\r\nconfession nor satisfaction is of any worth; that it \u201cdestroyeth\r\nthe prison of hell, and maketh weak and feeble all the strengths\r\nof the devils, and restoreth the gifts of the Holy Ghost and of all\r\ngood virtues, and cleanseth the soul of sin, and delivereth it\r\nfrom the pain of hell, and from the company of the devil, and\r\nfrom the servage [slavery] of sin, and restoreth it to all goods\r\nspiritual, and to the company and communion of Holy Church.\u201d\r\nHe who should set his intent to these things, would no longer be\r\ninclined to sin, but would give his heart and body to the service\r\nof Jesus Christ, and thereof do him homage. \u201cFor, certes, our\r\nLord Jesus Christ hath spared us so benignly in our follies, that\r\nif he had not pity on man\u2019s soul, a sorry song might we all sing.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe Second Part of the Parson\u2019s Tale or Treatise opens with an\r\nexplanation of what is confession \u2014 which is termed \u201cthe\r\nsecond part of penitence, that is, sign of contrition;\u201d whether it\r\nought needs be done or not; and what things be convenable to\r\ntrue confession. Confession is true shewing of sins to the priest,\r\nwithout excusing, hiding, or forwrapping [disguising] of\r\nanything, and without vaunting of good works. \u201cAlso, it is\r\nnecessary to understand whence that sins spring, and how they\r\nincrease, and which they be.\u201d From Adam we took original sin;\r\n\u201cfrom him fleshly descended be we all, and engendered of vile\r\nand corrupt matter;\u201d and the penalty of Adam\u2019s transgression\r\ndwelleth with us as to temptation, which penalty is called\r\nconcupiscence. \u201cThis concupiscence, when it is wrongfully\r\ndisposed or ordained in a man, it maketh him covet, by covetise\r\nof flesh, fleshly sin by sight of his eyes, as to earthly things, and\r\nalso covetise of highness by pride of heart.\u201d The Parson\r\nproceeds to shew how man is tempted in his flesh to sin; how,\r\nafter his natural concupiscence, comes suggestion of the devil,\r\nthat is to say the devil\u2019s bellows, with which he bloweth in man\r\nthe fire of con cupiscence; and how man then bethinketh him\r\nwhether he will do or no the thing to which he is tempted. If he\r\nflame up into pleasure at the thought, and give way, then is he\r\nall dead in soul; \u201cand thus is sin accomplished, by temptation, by\r\ndelight, and by consenting; and then is the sin actual.\u201d Sin is\r\neither venial, or deadly; deadly, when a man loves any creature\r\nmore than Jesus Christ our Creator, venial, if he love Jesus\r\nChrist less than he ought. Venial sins diminish man\u2019s love to\r\nGod more and more, and may in this wise skip into deadly sin;\r\nfor many small make a great. \u201cAnd hearken this example: A\r\ngreat wave of the sea cometh sometimes with so great a\r\nviolence, that it drencheth [causes to sink] the ship: and the\r\nsame harm do sometimes the small drops, of water that enter\r\nthrough a little crevice in the thurrok [hold, bilge], and in the\r\nbottom of the ship, if men be so negligent that they discharge\r\nthem not betimes. And therefore, although there be difference\r\nbetwixt these two causes of drenching, algates [in any case] the\r\nship is dreint [sunk]. Right so fareth it sometimes of deadly sin,\u201d\r\nand of venial sins when they multiply in a man so greatly as to\r\nmake him love worldly things more than God. The Parson then\r\nenumerates specially a number of sins which many a man\r\nperadventure deems no sins, and confesses them not, and yet\r\nnevertheless they are truly sins: \u2014 ]\r\n\r\nThis is to say, at every time that a man eateth and drinketh more\r\nthan sufficeth to the sustenance of his body, in certain he doth\r\nsin; eke when he speaketh more than it needeth, he doth sin; eke\r\nwhen he heareth not benignly the complaint of the poor; eke\r\nwhen he is in health of body, and will not fast when other folk\r\nfast, without cause reasonable; eke when he sleepeth more than\r\nneedeth, or when he cometh by that occasion too late to church,\r\nor to other works of charity; eke when he useth his wife without\r\nsovereign desire of engendrure, to the honour of God, or for the\r\nintent to yield his wife his debt of his body; eke when he will not\r\nvisit the sick, or the prisoner, if he may; eke if he love wife, or\r\nchild, or other worldly thing, more than reason requireth; eke if\r\nhe flatter or blandish more than he ought for any necessity; eke\r\nif he minish or withdraw the alms of the poor; eke if he apparail\r\n[prepare] his meat more deliciously than need is, or eat it too\r\nhastily by likerousness [gluttony];  eke if he talk vanities in the\r\nchurch, or at God\u2019s service, or that he be a talker of idle words\r\nof folly or villainy, for he shall yield account of them at the day\r\nof doom; eke when he behighteth [promiseth] or assureth to do\r\nthings that he may not perform; eke when that by lightness of\r\nfolly he missayeth or scorneth his neighbour; eke when he hath\r\nany wicked suspicion of thing, that he wot of it no\r\nsoothfastness: these things, and more without number, be sins,\r\nas saith Saint Augustine.\r\n\r\n[No earthly man may eschew all venial sins; yet may he refrain\r\nhim, by the burning love that he hath to our Lord Jesus Christ,\r\nand by prayer and confession, and other good works, so that it\r\nshall but little grieve. \u201cFurthermore, men may also refrain and\r\nput away venial sin, by receiving worthily the precious body of\r\nJesus Christ; by receiving eke of holy water; by alms-deed; by\r\ngeneral confession of Confiteor at mass, and at prime, and at\r\ncompline [evening service]; and by blessing of bishops and\r\npriests, and by other good works.\u201d The Parson then proceeds to\r\nweightier matters:\u2014 ]\r\n\r\nNow it is behovely [profitable, necessary] to tell which be\r\ndeadly sins, that is to say, chieftains of sins; forasmuch as all\r\nthey run in one leash, but in diverse manners. Now be they\r\ncalled chieftains, forasmuch as they be chief, and of them spring\r\nall other sins. The root of these sins, then, is pride, the general\r\nroot of all harms. For of this root spring certain branches: as ire,\r\nenvy, accidie <6> or sloth, avarice or covetousness (to common\r\nunderstanding), gluttony, and lechery: and each of these sins\r\nhath his branches and his twigs, as shall be declared in their\r\nchapters following. And though so be, that no man can tell\r\nutterly the number of the twigs, and of the harms that come of\r\npride, yet will I shew a part of them, as ye shall understand.\r\nThere is inobedience, vaunting, hypocrisy, despite, arrogance,\r\nimpudence, swelling of hearte, insolence, elation, impatience,\r\nstrife, contumacy, presumption, irreverence, pertinacity, vain-\r\nglory and many another twig that I cannot tell nor declare. . . .]\r\n\r\nAnd yet [moreover] there is a privy species of pride that waiteth\r\nfirst to be saluted ere he will salute, all [although] be he less\r\nworthy than that other is; and eke he waiteth [expecteth] or\r\ndesireth to sit or to go above him in the way, or kiss the pax,\r\n<7> or be incensed, or go to offering before his neighbour, and\r\nsuch semblable [like] things, against his duty peradventure, but\r\nthat he hath his heart and his intent in such a proud desire to be\r\nmagnified and honoured before the people. Now be there two\r\nmanner of prides; the one of them is within the heart of a man,\r\nand the other is without. Of which soothly these foresaid things,\r\nand more than I have said, appertain to pride that is within the\r\nheart of a man and there be other species of pride that be\r\nwithout: but nevertheless, the one of these species of pride is\r\nsign of the other, right as the gay levesell [bush] at the tavern is\r\nsign of the wine that is in the cellar. And this is in many things:\r\nas in speech and countenance, and outrageous array of clothing;\r\nfor certes, if there had been no sin in clothing, Christ would not\r\nso soon have noted and spoken of the clothing of that rich man\r\nin the gospel. And Saint Gregory saith, that precious clothing is\r\nculpable for the dearth [dearness] of it, and for its softness, and\r\nfor its strangeness and disguising, and for the superfluity or for\r\nthe inordinate scantness of it; alas! may not a man see in our\r\ndays the sinful costly array of clothing, and namely [specially] in\r\ntoo much superfluity, or else in too disordinate scantness? As to\r\nthe first sin, in superfluity of clothing, which that maketh it so\r\ndear, to the harm of the people, not only the cost of the\r\nembroidering, the disguising, indenting or barring, ounding,\r\npaling, <8> winding, or banding, and semblable [similar] waste\r\nof cloth in vanity; but there is also the costly furring [lining or\r\nedging with fur] in their gowns, so much punching of chisels to\r\nmake holes, so much dagging [cutting] of shears, with the\r\nsuperfluity in length of the foresaid gowns, trailing in the dung\r\nand in the mire, on horse and eke on foot, as well of man as of\r\nwoman, that all that trailing is verily (as in effect) wasted,\r\nconsumed, threadbare, and rotten with dung, rather than it is\r\ngiven to the poor, to great damage of the foresaid poor folk,\r\nand that in sundry wise: this is to say, the more that cloth is\r\nwasted, the more must it cost to the poor people for the\r\nscarceness; and furthermore, if so be that they would give such\r\npunched and dagged clothing to the poor people, it is not\r\nconvenient to wear for their estate, nor sufficient to boot [help,\r\nremedy] their necessity, to keep them from the distemperance\r\n[inclemency] of the firmament. Upon the other side, to speak of\r\nthe horrible disordinate scantness of clothing, as be these cutted\r\nslops or hanselines [breeches] , that through their shortness\r\ncover not the shameful member of man, to wicked intent alas!\r\nsome of them shew the boss and the shape of the horrible\r\nswollen members, that seem like to the malady of hernia, in the\r\nwrapping of their hosen, and eke the buttocks of them, that fare\r\nas it were the hinder part of a she-ape in the full of the moon.\r\nAnd more over the wretched swollen members that they shew\r\nthrough disguising, in departing [dividing] of their hosen in\r\nwhite and red, seemeth that half their shameful privy members\r\nwere flain [flayed]. And if so be that they depart their hosen in\r\nother colours, as is white and blue, or white and black, or black\r\nand red, and so forth; then seemeth it, by variance of colour,\r\nthat the half part of their privy members be corrupt by the fire\r\nof Saint Anthony, or by canker, or other such mischance. And\r\nof the hinder part of their buttocks it is full horrible to see, for\r\ncertes, in that part of their body where they purge their stinking\r\nordure, that foul part shew they to the people proudly in despite\r\nof honesty [decency], which honesty Jesus Christ and his friends\r\nobserved to shew in his life. Now as of the outrageous array of\r\nwomen, God wot, that though the visages of some of them\r\nseem full chaste and debonair [gentle], yet notify they, in their\r\narray of attire, likerousness and pride. I say not that honesty\r\n[reasonable and appropriate style] in clothing of man or woman\r\nunconvenable but, certes, the superfluity or disordinate scarcity\r\nof clothing is reprovable. Also the sin of their ornament, or of\r\napparel, as in things that appertain to riding, as in too many\r\ndelicate horses, that be holden for delight, that be so fair, fat,\r\nand costly; and also in many a vicious knave, [servant] that is\r\nsustained because of them; in curious harness, as in saddles,\r\ncruppers, peytrels, [breast-plates] and bridles, covered with\r\nprecious cloth and rich bars and plates of gold and silver. For\r\nwhich God saith by Zechariah the prophet, \u201cI will confound the\r\nriders of such horses.\u201d These folk take little regard of the riding\r\nof God\u2019s Son of heaven, and of his harness, when he rode upon\r\nan ass, and had no other harness but the poor clothes of his\r\ndisciples; nor we read not that ever he rode on any other beast.\r\nI speak this for the sin of superfluity, and not for reasonable\r\nhonesty [seemliness], when reason it requireth. And moreover,\r\ncertes, pride is greatly notified in holding of great meinie\r\n[retinue of servants], when they be of little profit or of right no\r\nprofit, and namely [especially] when that meinie is felonous\r\n[violent ] and damageous [harmful] to the people by hardiness\r\n[arrogance] of high lordship, or by way of office; for certes,\r\nsuch lords sell then their lordship to the devil of hell, when they\r\nsustain the wickedness of their meinie. Or else, when these folk\r\nof low degree, as they that hold hostelries, sustain theft of their\r\nhostellers, and that is in many manner of deceits: that manner of\r\nfolk be the flies that follow the honey, or else the hounds that\r\nfollow the carrion. Such foresaid folk strangle spiritually their\r\nlordships; for which thus saith David the prophet, \u201cWicked\r\ndeath may come unto these lordships, and God give that they\r\nmay descend into hell adown; for in their houses is iniquity and\r\nshrewedness, [impiety] and not God of heaven.\u201d And certes, but\r\nif [unless] they do amendment, right as God gave his benison\r\n[blessing] to Laban by the service of Jacob, and to Pharaoh by\r\nthe service of Joseph; right so God will give his malison\r\n[condemnation] to such lordships as sustain the wickedness of\r\ntheir servants, but [unless] they come to amendment. Pride of\r\nthe table apaireth [worketh harm] eke full oft; for, certes, rich\r\nmen be called to feasts, and poor folk be put away and rebuked;\r\nalso in excess of divers meats and drinks, and namely [specially]\r\nsuch manner bake-meats and dish-meats burning of wild fire,\r\nand painted and castled with paper, and semblable [similar]\r\nwaste, so that it is abuse to think. And eke in too great\r\npreciousness of vessel, [plate] and curiosity of minstrelsy, by\r\nwhich a man is stirred more to the delights of luxury, if so be\r\nthat he set his heart the less upon our Lord Jesus Christ, certain\r\nit is a sin; and certainly the delights might be so great in this\r\ncase, that a man might lightly [easily] fall by them into deadly\r\nsin.\r\n\r\n[The sins that arise of pride advisedly and habitually are deadly;\r\nthose that arise by frailty unadvised suddenly, and suddenly\r\nwithdraw again, though grievous, are not deadly. Pride itself\r\nsprings sometimes of the goods of nature, sometimes of the\r\ngoods of fortune, sometimes of the goods of grace; but the\r\nParson, enumerating and examining all these in turn, points out\r\nhow little security they possess and how little ground for pride\r\nthey furnish, and goes on to enforce the remedy against pride \u2014\r\nwhich is humility or meekness, a virtue through which a man\r\nhath true knowledge of himself, and holdeth no high esteem of\r\nhimself in regard of his deserts, considering ever his frailty.]\r\n\r\nNow be there three manners [kinds] of humility; as humility in\r\nheart, and another in the mouth, and the third in works. The\r\nhumility in the heart is in four manners: the one is, when a man\r\nholdeth himself as nought worth before God of heaven; the\r\nsecond is, when he despiseth no other man; the third is, when he\r\nrecketh not though men hold him nought worth; the fourth is,\r\nwhen he is not sorry of his humiliation. Also the humility of\r\nmouth is in four things: in temperate speech; in humility of\r\nspeech; and when he confesseth with his own mouth that he is\r\nsuch as he thinketh that he is in his heart; another is, when he\r\npraiseth the bounte [goodness] of another man and nothing\r\nthereof diminisheth. Humility eke in works is in four manners:\r\nthe first is, when he putteth other men before him; the second is,\r\nto choose the lowest place of all; the third is, gladly to assent to\r\ngood counsel; the fourth is, to stand gladly by the award\r\n[judgment] of his sovereign, or of him that is higher in degree:\r\ncertain this is a great work of humility.\r\n\r\n[The Parson proceeds to treat of the other cardinal sins, and\r\ntheir remedies: (2.) Envy, with its remedy, the love of God\r\nprincipally and of our neighbours as ourselves: (3.) Anger, with\r\nall its fruits in revenge, rancour, hate, discord, manslaughter,\r\nblasphemy, swearing, falsehood, flattery, chiding and reproving,\r\nscorning, treachery, sowing of strife, doubleness of tongue,\r\nbetraying of counsel to a man\u2019s disgrace, menacing, idle words,\r\njangling, japery or buffoonery, &c. \u2014 and its remedy in the\r\nvirtues called mansuetude, debonairte, or gentleness, and\r\npatience or sufferance: (4.) Sloth, or \u201cAccidie,\u201d which comes\r\nafter the sin of Anger, because Envy blinds the eyes of a man,\r\nand Anger troubleth a man, and Sloth maketh him heavy,\r\nthoughtful, and peevish. It is opposed to every estate of man \u2014\r\nas unfallen, and held to work in praising and adoring God; as\r\nsinful, and held to labour in praying for deliverance from sin;\r\nand as in the state of grace, and held to works of penitence. It\r\nresembles the heavy and sluggish condition of those in hell; it\r\nwill suffer no hardness and no penance; it prevents any\r\nbeginning of good works; it causes despair of God\u2019s mercy,\r\nwhich is the sin against the Holy Ghost; it induces somnolency\r\nand neglect of communion in prayer with God; and it breeds\r\nnegligence or recklessness, that cares for nothing, and is the\r\nnurse of all mischiefs, if ignorance is their mother. Against\r\nSloth, and these and other branches and fruits of it, the remedy\r\nlies in the virtue of fortitude or strength, in its various species of\r\nmagnanimity or great courage; faith and hope in God and his\r\nsaints; surety or sickerness, when a man fears nothing that can\r\noppose the good works he has under taken; magnificence, when\r\nhe carries out great works of goodness begun; constancy or\r\nstableness of heart; and other incentives to energy and laborious\r\nservice: (5.) Avarice, or Covetousness, which is the root of all\r\nharms, since its votaries are idolaters, oppressors and enslavers\r\nof men, deceivers of their equals in business, simoniacs,\r\ngamblers, liars, thieves, false swearers, blasphemers, murderers,\r\nand sacrilegious. Its remedy lies in compassion and pity largely\r\nexercised, and in reasonable liberality \u2014 for those who spend on\r\n\u201cfool-largesse,\u201d or ostentation of worldly estate and luxury,\r\nshall receive the malison [condemnation] that Christ shall give\r\nat the day of doom to them that shall be damned: (6.) Gluttony;\r\n\u2014 of which the Parson treats so briefly that the chapter may be\r\ngiven in full: \u2014 ]\r\n\r\nAfter Avarice cometh Gluttony, which is express against the\r\ncommandment of God. Gluttony is unmeasurable appetite to eat\r\nor to drink; or else to do in aught to the unmeasurable appetite\r\nand disordered covetousness [craving] to eat or drink. This sin\r\ncorrupted all this world, as is well shewed in the sin of Adam\r\nand of Eve. Look also what saith Saint Paul of gluttony:\r\n\u201cMany,\u201d saith he, \u201cgo, of which I have oft said to you, and now\r\nI say it weeping, that they be enemies of the cross of Christ, of\r\nwhich the end is death, and of which their womb [stomach] is\r\ntheir God and their glory;\u201d in confusion of them that so savour\r\n[take delight in] earthly things. He that is usant [accustomed,\r\naddicted] to this sin of gluttony, he may no sin withstand, he\r\nmust be in servage [bondage] of all vices,  for it is the devil\u2019s\r\nhoard, [lair, lurking-place] where he hideth him in and resteth.\r\nThis sin hath many species. The first is drunkenness, that is the\r\nhorrible sepulture of man\u2019s reason: and therefore when a man is\r\ndrunken, he hath lost his reason; and this is deadly sin. But\r\nsoothly, when that a man is not wont to strong drink, and\r\nperadventure knoweth not the strength of the drink, or hath\r\nfeebleness in his head, or hath travailed [laboured], through\r\nwhich he drinketh the more, all [although] be he suddenly\r\ncaught with drink, it is no deadly sin, but venial. The second\r\nspecies of gluttony is, that the spirit of a man waxeth all\r\ntroubled for drunkenness, and bereaveth a man the discretion of\r\nhis wit. The third species of gluttony is, when a man devoureth\r\nhis meat, and hath no rightful manner of eating. The fourth is,\r\nwhen, through the great abundance of his meat, the humours of\r\nhis body be distempered. The fifth is, forgetfulness by too much\r\ndrinking, for which a man sometimes forgetteth by the morrow\r\nwhat be did at eve. In other manner be distinct the species of\r\ngluttony, after Saint Gregory. The first is, for to eat or drink\r\nbefore time. The second is, when a man getteth him too delicate\r\nmeat or drink. The third is, when men take too much over\r\nmeasure [immoderately]. The fourth is curiosity [nicety] with\r\ngreat intent [application, pains] to make and apparel [prepare]\r\nhis meat. The fifth is, for to eat too greedily. These be the five\r\nfingers of the devil\u2019s hand, by which he draweth folk to the sin.\r\n\r\nAgainst gluttony the remedy is abstinence, as saith Galen; but\r\nthat I hold not meritorious, if he do it only for the health of his\r\nbody. Saint Augustine will that abstinence be done for virtue,\r\nand with patience. Abstinence, saith he, is little worth, but  if\r\n[unless] a man have good will thereto, and but it be enforced by\r\npatience and by charity, and that men do it for God\u2019s sake, and\r\nin hope to have the bliss in heaven. The fellows of abstinence be\r\ntemperance, that holdeth the mean in all things; also shame, that\r\nescheweth all dishonesty [indecency, impropriety], sufficiency,\r\nthat seeketh no rich meats nor drinks, nor doth no force of [sets\r\nno value on] no outrageous apparelling of meat; measure\r\n[moderation] also, that restraineth by reason the unmeasurable\r\nappetite of eating; soberness also, that restraineth the outrage of\r\ndrink; sparing also, that restraineth the delicate ease to sit long\r\nat meat, wherefore some folk stand of their own will to eat,\r\nbecause they will eat at less leisure.\r\n\r\n[At great length the Parson then points out the many varieties of\r\nthe sin of (7.) Lechery, and its remedy in chastity and\r\ncontinence, alike in marriage and in widowhood; also in the\r\nabstaining from all such indulgences of eating, drinking, and\r\nsleeping as inflame the passions, and from the company of all\r\nwho may tempt to the sin. Minute guidance is given as to the\r\nduty of confessing fully and faithfully the circumstances that\r\nattend and may aggravate this sin; and the Treatise then passes\r\nto the consideration of the conditions that are essential to a true\r\nand profitable confession of sin in general. First, it must be in\r\nsorrowful bitterness of spirit; a condition that has five signs \u2014\r\nshamefastness, humility in heart and outward sign, weeping with\r\nthe bodily eyes or in the heart, disregard of the shame that\r\nmight curtail or garble confession, and obedience to the penance\r\nenjoined. Secondly, true confession must be promptly made, for\r\ndread of death, of increase of sinfulness, of forgetfulness of\r\nwhat should be confessed, of Christ\u2019s refusal to hear if it be put\r\noff to the last day of life; and this condition has four terms; that\r\nconfession be well pondered beforehand, that the man\r\nconfessing have comprehended in his mind the number and\r\ngreatness of his sins and how long he has lain in sin, that he be\r\ncontrite for and eschew his sins, and that he fear and flee the\r\noccasions for that sin to which he is inclined. \u2014 What follows\r\nunder this head is of some interest for the light which it throws\r\non the rigorous government wielded by the Romish Church in\r\nthose days \u2014]\r\n\r\nAlso thou shalt shrive thee of all thy sins to one man, and not a\r\nparcel [portion] to one man, and a parcel to another; that is to\r\nunderstand, in intent to depart [divide] thy confession for shame\r\nor dread; for it is but strangling of thy soul. For certes Jesus\r\nChrist is entirely all good, in him is none imperfection, and\r\ntherefore either he forgiveth all perfectly, or else never a deal\r\n[not at all]. I say not that if thou be assigned to thy penitencer\r\n<9> for a certain sin, that thou art bound to shew him all the\r\nremnant of thy sins, of which thou hast been shriven of thy\r\ncurate, but if it like thee [unless thou be pleased] of thy\r\nhumility; this is no departing [division] of shrift. And I say not,\r\nwhere I speak of division of confession, that if thou have license\r\nto shrive thee to a discreet and an honest priest, and where thee\r\nliketh, and by the license of thy curate, that thou mayest not\r\nwell shrive thee to him of all thy sins: but let no blot be behind,\r\nlet no sin be untold as far as thou hast remembrance. And when\r\nthou shalt be shriven of thy curate, tell him eke all the sins that\r\nthou hast done since thou wert last shriven. This is no wicked\r\nintent of division of shrift. Also, very shrift [true confession]\r\nasketh certain  conditions. First, that thou shrive thee by thy\r\nfree will, not constrained, nor for shame of folk, nor for malady\r\n[sickness],  or such things: for it is reason, that he that\r\ntrespasseth by his free will, that by his free will he confess his\r\ntrespass; and that no other man tell his sin but himself; nor he\r\nshall not nay nor deny his sin, nor wrath him against the priest\r\nfor admonishing him to leave his sin. The second condition is,\r\nthat thy shrift be lawful, that is to say, that thou that shrivest\r\nthee, and eke the priest that heareth thy confession, be verily in\r\nthe faith of Holy Church, and that a man be not despaired of the\r\nmercy of Jesus Christ, as Cain and Judas were. And eke a man\r\nmust accuse himself of his own trespass, and not another: but he\r\nshall blame and wite [accuse] himself of his own malice and of\r\nhis sin, and none other: but nevertheless, if that another man be\r\noccasion or else enticer of his sin, or the estate of the person be\r\nsuch by which his sin is aggravated, or else that be may not\r\nplainly shrive him but [unless] he tell the person with which he\r\nhath sinned, then may he tell, so that his intent be not to\r\nbackbite the person, but only to declare his confession. Thou\r\nshalt not eke make no leasings [falsehoods] in thy confession\r\nfor humility, peradventure, to say that thou hast committed and\r\ndone such sins of which that thou wert never guilty. For Saint\r\nAugustine saith, \u201cIf that thou, because of humility, makest a\r\nleasing on thyself, though thou were not in sin before, yet art\r\nthou then in sin through thy leasing.\u201d Thou must also shew thy\r\nsin by thine own proper mouth, but [unless] thou be dumb, and\r\nnot by letter; for thou that hast done the sin, thou shalt have the\r\nshame of the confession. Thou shalt not paint thy confession\r\nwith fair and subtle words, to cover the more thy sin; for then\r\nbeguilest thou thyself, and not the priest; thou must tell it\r\nplainly, be it never so foul nor so horrible. Thou shalt eke shrive\r\nthee to a priest that is discreet to counsel thee; and eke thou\r\nshalt not shrive thee for vain-glory, nor for hypocrisy, nor for\r\nno cause but only for the doubt [fear] of Jesus\u2019 Christ and the\r\nhealth of thy soul. Thou shalt not run to the priest all suddenly,\r\nto tell him lightly thy sin, as who telleth a jape [jest] or a tale,\r\nbut advisedly and with good devotion; and generally shrive thee\r\noft; if thou oft fall, oft arise by confession. And though thou\r\nshrive thee oftener than once of sin of which thou hast been\r\nshriven, it is more merit; and, as saith Saint Augustine, thou\r\nshalt have the more lightly [easily] release and grace of God,\r\nboth of sin and of pain. And certes, once a year at the least way,\r\nit is lawful to be houseled, <10> for soothly once a year all\r\nthings in the earth renovelen [renew themselves].\r\n\r\n[Here ends the Second Part of the Treatise; the Third Part,\r\nwhich contains the practical application of the whole, follows\r\nentire, along with the remarkable \u201cPrayer of Chaucer,\u201d as it\r\nstands in the Harleian Manuscript:\u2014]\r\n\r\nDe Tertia Parte Poenitentiae. [Of the third part of penitence]\r\n\r\nNow have I told you of very [true] confession, that is the\r\nsecond part of penitence: The third part of penitence is\r\nsatisfaction, and that standeth generally in almsdeed and bodily\r\npain. Now be there three manner of almsdeed: contrition of\r\nheart, where a man offereth himself to God; the second is, to\r\nhave pity of the default of his neighbour; the third is, in giving\r\nof good counsel and comfort, ghostly and bodily, where men\r\nhave need, and namely [specially] sustenance of man\u2019s food.\r\nAnd take keep [heed] that a man hath need of these things\r\ngenerally; he hath need of food, of clothing, and of herberow\r\n[lodging], he hath need of charitable counsel and visiting in\r\nprison and malady, and sepulture of his dead body. And if thou\r\nmayest not visit the needful with thy person, visit them by thy\r\nmessage and by thy gifts. These be generally alms or works of\r\ncharity of them that have temporal riches or discretion in\r\ncounselling. Of these works shalt thou hear at the day of doom.\r\nThis alms shouldest thou do of thine own proper things, and\r\nhastily [promptly], and privily [secretly] if thou mayest; but\r\nnevertheless, if thou mayest not do it privily, thou shalt not\r\nforbear to do alms, though men see it, so that it be not done for\r\nthank of the world, but only for thank of Jesus Christ. For, as\r\nwitnesseth Saint Matthew, chap. v., \u201cA city may not be hid that\r\nis set on a mountain, nor men light not a lantern and put it\r\nunder a bushel, but men set it on a candlestick, to light the men\r\nin the house; right so shall your light lighten before men, that\r\nthey may see your good works, and glorify your Father that is\r\nin heaven.\u201d\r\n\r\nNow as to speak of bodily pain, it is in prayer, in wakings,\r\n[watchings] in fastings, and in virtuous teachings. Of orisons ye\r\nshall understand, that orisons or prayers is to say a piteous will\r\nof heart, that redresseth it in God, and expresseth it by word\r\noutward, to remove harms, and to have things spiritual and\r\ndurable, and sometimes temporal things. Of which orisons,\r\ncertes in the orison of the Pater noster hath our Lord Jesus\r\nChrist enclosed most things. Certes, it is privileged of three\r\nthings in its dignity, for which it is more digne [worthy] than\r\nany other prayer: for Jesus Christ himself made it: and it is\r\nshort, for [in order] it should be coude the more lightly, [be\r\nmore easily conned or learned] and to withhold [retain] it the\r\nmore easy in heart, and help himself the oftener with this orison;\r\nand for a man should be the less weary to say it; and for a man\r\nmay not excuse him to learn it, it is so short and so easy: and\r\nfor it comprehendeth in itself all good prayers. The exposition\r\nof this holy prayer, that is so excellent and so digne, I betake\r\n[commit] to these masters of theology; save thus much will I\r\nsay, when thou prayest that God should forgive thee thy guilts,\r\nas thou forgivest them that they guilt to thee, be full well ware\r\nthat thou be not out of charity. This holy orison aminisheth\r\n[lesseneth] eke venial sin, and therefore it appertaineth specially\r\nto penitence. This prayer must be truly said, and in very faith,\r\nand that men pray to God ordinately, discreetly, and devoutly;\r\nand always a man shall put his will to be subject to the will of\r\nGod. This orison must eke be said with great humbleness and\r\nfull pure, and honestly, and not to the annoyance of any man or\r\nwoman. It must eke be continued with the works of charity. It\r\navaileth against the vices of the soul; for, assaith Saint Jerome,\r\nby fasting be saved the vices of the flesh, and by prayer the\r\nvices of the soul\r\n\r\nAfter this thou shalt understand, that bodily pain stands in\r\nwaking [watching].  For Jesus Christ saith \u201cWake and pray, that\r\nye enter not into temptation.\u201d Ye shall understand also, that\r\nfasting stands in three things: in forbearing of bodily meat and\r\ndrink, and in forbearing of worldly jollity, and in forbearing of\r\ndeadly sin; this is to say, that a man shall keep him from deadly\r\nsin in all that he may. And thou shalt understand eke, that God\r\nordained fasting; and to fasting appertain four things: largeness\r\n[generosity] to poor folk; gladness of heart spiritual; not to be\r\nangry nor annoyed nor grudge [murmur] for he fasteth; and also\r\nreasonable hour for to eat by measure; that is to say, a man\r\nshould not eat in untime [out of time],  nor sit the longer at his\r\nmeal for [because] he fasteth. Then shalt thou understand, that\r\nbodily pain standeth in discipline, or teaching, by word, or by\r\nwriting, or by ensample. Also in wearing of hairs [haircloth] or\r\nof stamin [coarse hempen cloth], or of habergeons [mail-shirts]\r\n<11> on their naked flesh for Christ\u2019s sake; but ware thee well\r\nthat such manner penance of thy flesh make not thine heart\r\nbitter or angry, nor annoyed of thyself; for better is to cast away\r\nthine hair than to cast away the sweetness of our Lord Jesus\r\nChrist. And therefore saith Saint Paul, \u201cClothe you, as they that\r\nbe chosen of God in heart, of misericorde [with compassion],\r\ndebonairte [gentleness], sufferance [patience], and such manner\r\nof clothing,\u201d of which Jesus Christ is more apaid [better\r\npleased] than of hairs or of hauberks. Then is discipline eke in\r\nknocking of thy breast, in scourging with yards [rods], in\r\nkneelings, in tribulations, in suffering patiently wrongs that be\r\ndone to him, and eke in patient sufferance of maladies, or losing\r\nof worldly catel [chattels], or of wife, or of child, or of other\r\nfriends.\r\n\r\nThen shalt thou understand which things disturb penance, and\r\nthis is in four things; that is dread, shame, hope, and wanhope,\r\nthat is, desperation. And for to speak first of dread, for which\r\nhe weeneth that he may suffer no penance, thereagainst is\r\nremedy for to think that bodily penance is but short and little at\r\nthe regard of [in comparison with] the pain of hell, that is so\r\ncruel and so long, that it lasteth without end. Now against the\r\nshame that a man hath to shrive him, and namely [specially]\r\nthese hypocrites, that would be holden so perfect, that they\r\nhave no need to shrive them; against that shame should a man\r\nthink, that by way of reason he that hath not been ashamed to\r\ndo foul things, certes he ought not to be ashamed to do fair\r\nthings, and that is confession. A man should eke think, that God\r\nseeth and knoweth all thy thoughts, and all thy works; to him\r\nmay nothing be hid nor covered. Men should eke remember\r\nthem of the shame that is to come at the day of doom, to them\r\nthat be not penitent and shriven in this present life; for all the\r\ncreatures in heaven, and in earth, and in hell, shall see apertly\r\n[openly] all that he hideth in this world.\r\n\r\nNow for to speak of them that be so negligent and slow to\r\nshrive them; that stands in two manners. The one is, that he\r\nhopeth to live long, and to purchase [acquire] much riches for\r\nhis delight, and then he will shrive him: and, as he sayeth, he\r\nmay, as him seemeth, timely enough come to shrift: another is,\r\nthe surquedrie [presumption <12>] that he hath in Christ\u2019s\r\nmercy. Against the first vice, he shall think that our life is in no\r\nsickerness, [security] and eke that all the riches in this world be\r\nin adventure, and pass as a shadow on the wall; and, as saith St\r\nGregory, that it appertaineth to the great righteousness of God,\r\nthat never shall the pain stint [cease] of them, that never would\r\nwithdraw them from sin, their thanks [with their goodwill], but\r\naye continue in sin; for that perpetual will to do sin shall they\r\nhave perpetual pain. Wanhope [despair] is in two manners [of\r\ntwo kinds]. The first wanhope is, in the mercy of God: the other\r\nis, that they think they might not long persevere in goodness.\r\nThe first wanhope cometh of that he deemeth that he sinned so\r\nhighly and so oft, and so long hath lain in sin, that he shall not\r\nbe saved. Certes against that cursed wanhope should he think,\r\nthat the passion of Jesus Christ is more strong for to unbind,\r\nthan sin is strong for to bind. Against the second wanhope he\r\nshall think, that as oft as he falleth, he may arise again by\r\npenitence; and though he never so long hath lain in sin, the\r\nmercy of Christ is always ready to receive him to mercy.\r\nAgainst the wanhope that he thinketh he should not long\r\npersevere in goodness, he shall think that the feebleness of the\r\ndevil may nothing do, but [unless] men will suffer him; and eke\r\nhe shall have strength of the help of God, and of all Holy\r\nChurch, and of the protection of angels, if him list.\r\n\r\nThen shall men understand, what is the fruit of penance; and\r\nafter the word of Jesus Christ, it is the endless bliss of heaven,\r\nwhere joy hath no contrariety of woe nor of penance nor\r\ngrievance; there all harms be passed of this present life; there as\r\nis the sickerness [security] from the pain of hell; there as is the\r\nblissful company, that rejoice them evermore each of the other\u2019s\r\njoy; there as the body of man, that whilom was foul and dark, is\r\nmore clear than the sun; there as the body of man that whilom\r\nwas sick and frail, feeble and mortal, is immortal, and so strong\r\nand so whole, that there may nothing apair [impair, injure] it;\r\nthere is neither hunger, nor thirst, nor cold, but every soul\r\nreplenished with the sight of the perfect knowing of God. This\r\nblissful regne [kingdom] may men purchase by poverty spiritual,\r\nand the glory by lowliness, the plenty of joy by hunger and\r\nthirst, the rest by travail, and the life by death and mortification\r\nof sin; to which life He us bring, that bought us with his\r\nprecious blood! Amen.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Parson\u2019s Tale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Parson\u2019s Tale is believed to be a translation, more or less\r\nfree, from some treatise on penitence that was in favour about\r\nChaucer\u2019s time. Tyrwhitt says: \u201cI cannot recommend it as a very\r\nentertaining or edifying performance at this day; but the reader\r\nwill please to remember, in excuse both of Chaucer and of his\r\neditor, that, considering The Canterbury Tales as a great picture\r\nof life and manners, the piece would not have been complete if\r\nit had not included the religion of the time.\u201d The Editor of the\r\npresent volume has followed the same plan adopted with regard\r\nto Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Melib\u0153us, and mainly for the same\r\nreasons. (See note 1 to that Tale). An outline of the Parson\u2019s\r\nponderous sermon \u2014 for such it is \u2014 has been drawn; while\r\nthose passages have been given in full which more directly\r\nillustrate the social and the religious life of the time \u2014 such as\r\nthe picture of hell, the vehement and rather coarse, but, in an\r\nantiquarian sense, most curious and valuable attack on the\r\nfashionable garb of the day, the catalogue of venial sins, the\r\ndescription of gluttony and its remedy, &c. The brief third or\r\nconcluding part, which contains the application of the whole,\r\nand the \u201cRetractation\u201d or \u201cPrayer\u201d that closes the Tale and the\r\nentire \u201cmagnum opus\u201d of Chaucer, have been given in full.\r\n\r\n2. Jeremiah vi. 16.\r\n\r\n3. See Note 3 to the Sompnour\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n4. Just before, the Parson had cited the words of Job to God\r\n(Job x. 20-22), \u201cSuffer, Lord, that I may a while bewail and\r\nweep, ere I go without returning to the dark land, covered with\r\nthe darkness of death; to the land of misease and of darkness,\r\nwhere as is the shadow of death; where as is no order nor\r\nordinance, but grisly dread that ever shall last.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. \u201cI have lost everything - my time and my work.\u201d\r\n\r\n6. Accidie: neglectfulness or indifference; from the Greek,\r\nakedeia.\r\n\r\n7. The pax: an image which was presented to the people to be\r\nkissed, at that part of the mass where the priest said, \u201cPax\r\nDomini sit semper vobiscum.\u201d (\u201cMay the peace of the Lord be\r\nalways with you\u201d) The ceremony took the place, for greater\r\nconvenience, of the \u201ckiss of peace,\u201d which clergy and people, at\r\nthis passage, used to bestow upon each other.\r\n\r\n8. Three ways of ornamenting clothes with lace, &c.; in barring\r\nit was laid on crossways, in ounding it was waved, in paling it\r\nwas laid on lengthways.\r\n\r\n9. Penitencer: a priest who enjoined penance in extraordinary\r\ncases.\r\n\r\n10. To be houseled: to receive the holy sacrament; from Anglo-\r\nSaxon, \u201chusel;\u201d Latin, \u201chostia,\u201d or \u201chostiola,\u201d the host.\r\n\r\n11. It was a frequent penance among the chivalric orders to\r\nwear mail shirts next the skin.\r\n\r\n12. Surquedrie: presumption; from old French, \u201csurcuider,\u201d to\r\nthink arrogantly, be full of conceit.\r\n\r\n*PRECES DE CHAUCERES* <1>                            *Prayer of Chaucer*\r\n\r\n\r\nNow pray I to you all that hear this little treatise or read it, that\r\nif there be anything in it that likes them, that thereof they thank\r\nour Lord Jesus Christ, of whom proceedeth all wit and all\r\ngoodness; and if there be anything that displeaseth them, I pray\r\nthem also that they arette [impute] it to the default of mine\r\nunconning [unskilfulness], and not to my will, that would fain\r\nhave said better if I had had conning; for the book saith, all that\r\nis written for our doctrine is written. Wherefore I beseech you\r\nmeekly for the mercy of God that ye pray for me, that God have\r\nmercy on me and forgive me my guilts, and namely [specially]\r\nmy translations and of inditing in worldly vanities, which I\r\nrevoke in my Retractions, as is the Book of Troilus, the Book\r\nalso of Fame, the Book of Twenty-five Ladies, the Book of the\r\nDuchess, the Book of Saint Valentine\u2019s Day and of the\r\nParliament of Birds, the Tales of Canter bury, all those that\r\nsounen unto sin, [are sinful, tend towards sin] the Book of the\r\nLion, and many other books, if they were in my mind or\r\nremembrance, and many a song and many a lecherous lay, of the\r\nwhich Christ for his great mercy forgive me the sins. But of the\r\ntranslation of Boece de Consolatione, and other books of\r\nconsolation and of legend of lives of saints, and homilies, and\r\nmoralities, and devotion, that thank I our Lord Jesus Christ, and\r\nhis mother, and all the saints in heaven, beseeching them that\r\nthey from henceforth unto my life\u2019s end send me grace to bewail\r\nmy guilts, and to study to the salvation of my soul, and grant\r\nme grace and space of very repentance, penitence, confession,\r\nand satisfaction, to do in this present life, through the benign\r\ngrace of Him that is King of kings and Priest of all priests, that\r\nbought us with his precious blood of his heart, so that I may be\r\none of them at the day of doom that shall be saved: Qui cum\r\nPatre et Spiritu Sancto vivis et regnas Deus per omnia secula.\r\nAmen. <2>\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Prayer of Chaucer\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The genuineness and real significance of this \u201cPrayer of\r\nChaucer,\u201d usually called his \u201cRetractation,\u201d have been warmly\r\ndisputed. On the one hand, it has been declared that the monks\r\nforged the retractation. and procured its insertion among the\r\nworks of the man who had done so much to expose their abuses\r\nand ignorance, and to weaken their hold on popular credulity:\r\non the other hand, Chaucer himself at the close of his life, is\r\nsaid to have greatly lamented the ribaldry and the attacks on the\r\nclergy which marked especially \u201cThe Canterbury Tales,\u201d and to\r\nhave drawn up a formal retractation of which the \u201cPrayer\u201d is\r\neither a copy or an abridgment. The beginning and end of the\r\n\u201cPrayer,\u201d as Tyrwhitt points out, are in tone and terms quite\r\nappropriate in the mouth of the Parson, while they carry on the\r\nsubject of which he has been treating; and, despite the fact that\r\nMr Wright holds the contrary opinion, Tyrwhitt seems to be\r\njustified in setting down the \u201cRetractation\u201d as interpolated into\r\nthe close of the Parson\u2019s Tale. Of the circumstances under\r\nwhich the interpolation was made, or the causes by which it was\r\ndictated, little or nothing can now be confidently affirmed; but\r\nthe agreement of the manuscripts and the early editions in\r\ngiving it, render it impossible to discard it peremptorily as a\r\ndeclaration of prudish or of interested regret, with which\r\nChaucer himself had nothing whatever to do.\r\n\r\n2. \u201c[You] Who with the Father and the Holy Spirit livest and\r\nreignest God for ever and ever. Amen.\u201d\r\n\r\nTHE END OF THE CANTERBURY TALES\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE COURT OF LOVE.\r\n\r\n\r\n\u201cThe Court Of Love\u201d was probably Chaucer\u2019s first poem of any\r\nconsequence. It is believed to have been written at the age, and\r\nunder the circumstances, of which it contains express mention;\r\nthat is, when the poet was eighteen years old, and resided as a\r\nstudent at Cambridge, \u2014 about the year 1346. The composition\r\nis marked by an elegance, care, and finish very different from\r\nthe bold freedom which in so great measure distinguishes the\r\nCanterbury Tales; and the fact is easily explained when we\r\nremember that, in the earlier poem, Chaucer followed a beaten\r\npath, in which he had many predecessors and competitors, all\r\nseeking to sound the praises of love with the grace, the\r\ningenuity, and studious devotion, appropriate to the theme. The\r\nstory of the poem is exceedingly simple. Under the name of\r\nPhilogenet, a clerk or scholar of Cambridge, the poet relates\r\nthat, summoned by Mercury to the Court of Love, he journeys\r\nto the splendid castle where the King and Queen of Love,\r\nAdmetus and Alcestis, keep their state. Discovering among the\r\ncourtiers a friend named Philobone, a chamberwoman to the\r\nQueen, Philogenet is led by her into a circular temple, where, in\r\na tabernacle, sits Venus, with Cupid by her side. While he is\r\nsurveying the motley crowd of suitors to the goddess,\r\nPhilogenet is summoned back into the King\u2019s presence, chidden\r\nfor his tardiness in coming to Court, and commanded to swear\r\nobservance to the twenty Statutes of Love \u2014 which are recited\r\nat length. Philogenet then makes his prayers and vows to\r\nVenus, desiring that he may have for his love a lady whom he\r\nhas seen in a dream; and Philobone introduces him to the lady\r\nherself, named Rosial, to whom he does suit and service of love.\r\nAt first the lady is obdurate to his entreaties; but, Philogenet\r\nhaving proved the sincerity of his passion by a fainting fit,\r\nRosial relents, promises her favour, and orders Philobone to\r\nconduct him round the Court. The courtiers are then minutely\r\ndescribed; but the description is broken off abruptly, and we are\r\nintroduced to Rosial in the midst of a confession of her love.\r\nFinally she commands Philogenet to abide with her until the\r\nFirst of May, when the King of Love will hold high festival; he\r\nobeys; and the poem closes with the May Day festival service,\r\ncelebrated by a choir of birds, who sing an ingenious, but what\r\nmust have seemed in those days a more than slightly profane,\r\nparaphrase or parody of the matins for Trinity Sunday, to the\r\npraise of Cupid. From this outline, it will be seen at once that\r\nChaucer\u2019s \u201cCourt of Love\u201d is in important particulars different\r\nfrom the institutions which, in the two centuries preceding his\r\nown, had so much occupied the attention of poets and gallants,\r\nand so powerfully controlled the social life of the noble and\r\nrefined classes. It is a regal, not a legal, Court which the poet\r\npictures to us; we are not introduced to a regularly constituted\r\nand authoritative tribunal in which nice questions of conduct in\r\nthe relations of lovers are discussed and decided \u2014 but to the\r\ncentral and sovereign seat of Love\u2019s authority, where the\r\nstatutes are moulded, and the decrees are issued, upon which\r\nthe inferior and special tribunals we have mentioned frame their\r\nproceedings. The \u201cCourts of Love,\u201d in Chaucer\u2019s time, had lost\r\nnone of the prestige and influence which had been conferred\r\nupon them by the patronage and participation of Kings, Queens,\r\nEmperors, and Popes. But the institution, in its legal or judicial\r\ncharacter, was peculiar to France; and although the whole spirit\r\nof Chaucer\u2019s poem, especially as regards the esteem and\r\nreverence in which women were held, is that which animated\r\nthe French Courts, his treatment of the subject is broader and\r\nmore general, consequently more fitted to enlist the interest of\r\nEnglish readers.\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was\r\nnot the author of this poem)\r\n\r\nThe poem consists of 206 stanzas of seven lines each; of which,\r\nin this edition, eighty-three are represented by a prose\r\nabridgement.\r\n\r\nWith timorous heart, and trembling hand of dread,\r\nOf cunning* naked, bare of eloquence,                             *skill\r\nUnto the *flow\u2019r of port in womanhead*        *one who is the perfection\r\nI write, as he that none intelligence              of womanly behaviour*\r\nOf metres hath, <1> nor flowers of sentence,\r\nSave that me list my writing to convey,\r\nIn that I can, to please her high nobley.*                    *nobleness\r\n\r\nThe blossoms fresh of Tullius\u2019* garden swoot**           *Cicero **sweet\r\nPresent they not, my matter for to born:* <2>           *burnish, polish\r\nPoems of Virgil take here no root,\r\nNor craft of Galfrid <3> may not here sojourn;\r\nWhy *n\u2019am I* cunning? O well may I mourn,                     *am I not*\r\nFor lack of science, that I cannot write\r\nUnto the princess of my life aright!\r\n\r\nNo terms are dign* unto her excellence,                          *worthy\r\nSo is she sprung of noble stirp* and high;                    *stock <4>\r\nA world of honour and of reverence\r\nThere is in her, this will I testify.\r\nCalliope, <5> thou sister wise and sly,*                        *skilful\r\nAnd thou, Minerva, guide me with thy grace,\r\nThat language rude my matter not deface!\r\n\r\nThy sugar droppes sweet of Helicon\r\nDistil in me, thou gentle Muse, I pray;\r\nAnd thee, Melpomene, <6> I call anon\r\nOf ignorance the mist to chase away;\r\nAnd give me grace so for to write and say,\r\nThat she, my lady, of her worthiness,\r\nAccept *in gree* this little short treatess,*    *with favour* *treatise\r\n\r\nThat is entitled thus, The Court of Love.\r\nAnd ye that be metricians,* me excuse,               *skilled versifiers\r\nI you beseech, for Venus\u2019 sake above;\r\nFor what I mean in this ye need not muse:\r\nAnd if so be my lady it refuse\r\nFor lack of ornate speech, I would be woe\r\nThat I presume to her to write so.\r\n\r\nBut my intent, and all my busy cure,*                              *care\r\nIs for to write this treatise, as I can,\r\nUnto my lady, stable, true, and sure,\r\nFaithful and kind, since first that she began\r\nMe to accept in service as her man;\r\nTo her be all the pleasure of this book,\r\nThat, when *her like,* she may it read and look.        *it pleases her*\r\n\r\nWhen [he] was young, at eighteen year of age,\r\nLusty and light, desirous of pleasance,\r\nApproaching* full sad and ripe corage,<7>           *gradually attaining\r\n\r\nThen \u2014 says the poet \u2014 did Love urge him to do\r\nhim obeisance, and to go \u201cthe Court of Love to\r\nsee, a lite [little] beside the Mount of Citharee.\u201d\r\n<8> Mercury bade him, on pain of death, to\r\nappear; and he went by strange and far countries\r\nin search of the Court. Seeing at last a crowd of\r\npeople, \u201cas bees,\u201d making their way thither, the\r\npoet asked whither they went; and \u201cone that\r\nanswer\u2019d like a maid\u201d said that they were bound to\r\nthe Court of Love, at Citheron,  where \u201cthe King\r\nof Love, and all his noble rout [company],\r\n\r\n\u201cDwelleth within a castle royally.\u201d\r\nSo them apace I journey\u2019d forth among,\r\nAnd as he said, so found I there truly;\r\nFor I beheld the town \u2014 so high and strong,\r\nAnd high pinnacles, large of height and long,\r\nWith plate of gold bespread on ev\u2019ry side,\r\nAnd precious stones, the stone work for to hide.\r\n\r\nNo sapphire of Ind, no ruby rich of price,\r\nThere lacked then, nor emerald so green,\r\nBalais, Turkeis, <9> nor thing, *to my devise,*        *in my judgement*\r\nThat may the castle make for to sheen;*                    *be beautiful\r\nAll was as bright as stars in winter be\u2019n;\r\nAnd Phoebus shone, to make his peace again,\r\nFor trespass* done to high estates twain,  \u2014                   *offence\r\n\r\nWhen he had found Venus in the arms of Mars, and hastened to\r\ntell Vulcan of his wife\u2019s infidelity <10>. Now he was shining\r\nbrightly on the castle, \u201cin sign he looked after Love\u2019s grace;\u201d for\r\nthere is no god in Heaven or in Hell \u201cbut he hath been right\r\nsubject unto Love.\u201d Continuing his description of the castle,\r\nPhilogenet says that he saw never any so large and high; within\r\nand without, it was painted \u201cwith many a thousand daisies, red\r\nas rose,\u201d and white also, in signification of whom, he knew not;\r\nunless it was the flower of Alcestis <11>, who, under Venus,\r\nwas queen of the place, as Admetus was king;\r\n\r\nTo whom obey\u2019d the ladies good nineteen <12>,\r\nWith many a thousand other, bright of face.\r\nAnd young men fele* came forth with lusty pace,               *many <13>\r\nAnd aged eke, their homage to dispose;\r\nBut what they were, I could not well disclose.\r\n\r\nYet nere* and nere* forth in I gan me dress,                     *nearer\r\nInto a hall of noble apparail,*                             *furnishings\r\nWith arras <14> spread, and cloth of gold, I guess,\r\nAnd other silk *of easier avail;*    *less difficult, costly, to attain*\r\nUnder the *cloth of their estate,* sans fail,             *state canopy*\r\nThe King and Queen there sat, as I beheld;\r\nIt passed joy of *Elysee the feld.*                 *The Elysian Fields*\r\n\r\nThere saintes* have their coming and resort,           *martyrs for love\r\nTo see the King so royally beseen,*                             *adorned\r\nIn purple clad, and eke the Queen *in sort;*                  *suitably*\r\nAnd on their heades saw I crownes twain,\r\nWith stones frett,* so that it was no pain,                     *adorned\r\nWithoute meat or drink, to stand and see\r\nThe Kinge\u2019s honour and the royalty.\r\n\r\nTo treat of state affairs, Danger <15> stood by the\r\nKing, and Disdain by the Queen; who cast her eyes\r\nhaughtily about, sending forth beams that seemed\r\n\u201cshapen like a dart, sharp and piercing, and small and\r\nstraight of line;\u201d while her hair shone as gold so fine,\r\n\u201cdishevel, crisp, down hanging at her back a yard in\r\nlength.\u201d <16> Amazed and dazzled by her beauty,\r\nPhilogenet stood perplexed, till he spied a Maid,\r\nPhilobone \u2014 a chamberwoman of the Queen\u2019s \u2014 who\r\nasked how and on what errand he came thither.\r\nLearning that he had been summoned by Mercury, she\r\ntold him that he ought to have come of his free will,\r\nand that he \u201cwill be shent [rebuked, disgraced]\u201d\r\nbecause he did not.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor ye that reign in youth and lustiness,\r\nPamper\u2019d with ease, and jealous in your age,\r\nYour duty is, as far as I can guess,\r\nTo Love\u2019s Court to dresse* your voyage,                 *direct, address\r\nAs soon as Nature maketh you so sage\r\nThat ye may know a woman from a swan, <17>\r\nOr when your foot is growen half a span.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut since that ye, by wilful negligence,\r\nThis eighteen year have kept yourself at large,\r\nThe greater is your trespass and offence,\r\nAnd in your neck you must bear all the charge:\r\nFor better were ye be withoute barge*                              *boat\r\nAmid the sea in tempest and in rain,\r\nThan bide here, receiving woe and pain\r\n\r\n\u201cThat ordained is for such as them absent\r\nFrom Love\u2019s Court by yeares long and fele.*                         many\r\nI lay* my life ye shall full soon repent;                         *wager\r\nFor Love will rive your colour, lust, and heal:*                 *health\r\nEke ye must bait* on many a heavy meal:                            *feed\r\n*No force,* y-wis; I stirr\u2019d you long agone                  *no matter*\r\nTo draw to Court,\u201d quoth little Philobone.\r\n\r\n\u201cYe shall well see how rough and angry face\r\nThe King of Love will show, when ye him see;\r\nBy mine advice kneel down and ask him grace,\r\nEschewing* peril and adversity;                                *avoiding\r\nFor well I wot it will none other be;\r\nComfort is none, nor counsel to your ease;\r\nWhy will ye then the King of Love displease?\u201d\r\n\r\nThereupon Philogenet professed humble repentance,\r\nand willingness to bear all hardship and chastisement\r\nfor his past offence.\r\n\r\nThese wordes said, she caught me by the lap,*       *edge of the garment\r\nAnd led me forth into a temple round,\r\nBoth large and wide; and, as my blessed hap\r\nAnd good. adventure was, right soon I found\r\nA tabernacle <18> raised from the ground,\r\nWhere Venus sat, and Cupid by her side;\r\nYet half for dread I gan my visage hide.\r\n\r\nAnd eft* again I looked and beheld,                          *afterwards\r\nSeeing *full sundry people* in the place,         *people of many sorts*\r\nAnd *mister folk,* and some that might not weld         *craftsmen <19>*\r\nTheir limbes well, \u2014 me thought a wonder case.                     *use\r\nThe temple shone with windows all of glass,\r\nBright as the day, with many a fair image;\r\nAnd there I saw the fresh queen of Carthage,\r\n\r\nDido, that brent* her beauty for the love                         *burnt\r\nOf false Aeneas; and the waimenting*                          *lamenting\r\nOf her, Annelide, true as turtle dove\r\nTo Arcite false; <20> and there was in painting\r\nOf many a Prince, and many a doughty King,\r\nWhose martyrdom was show\u2019d about the walls;\r\nAnd how that fele* for love had suffer\u2019d falls.**     *many **calamities\r\n\r\nPhilogenet was astonished at the crowd of people that\r\nhe saw, doing sacrifice to the god and goddess.\r\nPhilobone informed him that they came from other\r\ncourts; those who knelt in blue wore the colour in\r\nsign of their changeless truth <21>; those in black,\r\nwho uttered cries of grief, were the sick and dying of\r\nlove. The priests, nuns, hermits, and friars, and all that\r\nsat in white, in russet and in green, \u201cwailed of their\r\nwoe;\u201d and for all people, of every degree, the Court\r\nwas open and free. While he walked about with\r\nPhilobone, a messenger from the King entered, and\r\nsummoned all the new-come folk to the royal\r\npresence. Trembling and pale, Philogenet approached\r\nthe throne of Admetus, and was sternly asked why he\r\ncame so late to Court. He pleaded that a hundred\r\ntimes he had been at the gate, but had been prevented\r\nfrom entering by failure to see any of his\r\nacquaintances, and by shamefacedness. The King\r\npardoned him, on condition that thenceforth he should\r\nserve Love; and the poet took oath to do so, \u201cthough\r\nDeath therefor me thirle [pierce] with his spear.\u201d\r\nWhen the King had seen all the new-comers, he\r\ncommanded an officer to take their oaths of\r\nallegiance, and show them the Statutes of the Court,\r\nwhich must be observed till death.\r\n\r\nAnd, for that I was letter\u2019d, there I read\r\nThe statutes whole of Love\u2019s Court and hail:\r\nThe first statute that on the book was spread,\r\nWas, To be true in thought and deedes all\r\nUnto the King of Love, the lord royal;\r\nAnd, to the Queen, as faithful and as kind\r\nAs I could think with hearte, will, and mind.\r\n\r\nThe second statute, Secretly to keep\r\nCounsel* of love, not blowing** ev\u2019rywhere            *secrets **talking\r\nAll that I know, and let it sink and fleet;*                      *float\r\nIt may not sound in ev\u2019ry wighte\u2019s ear:\r\nExiling slander ay for dread and fear,\r\nAnd to my lady, which I love and serve,\r\nBe true and kind, her grace for to deserve.\r\n\r\nThe third statute was clearly writ also,\r\nWithoute change to live and die the same,\r\nNone other love to take, for weal nor woe,\r\nFor blind delight, for earnest nor for game:\r\nWithout repent, for laughing or for grame,*            *vexation, sorrow\r\nTo bide still in full perseverance:\r\nAll this was whole the Kinge\u2019s ordinance.\r\n\r\nThe fourth statute, To *purchase ever to her,*       *promote her cause*\r\nAnd stirre folk to love, and bete* fire                          *kindle\r\nOn Venus\u2019 altar, here about and there,\r\nAnd preach to them of love and hot desire,\r\nAnd tell how love will quite* well their hire:                   *reward\r\nThis must be kept; and loth me to displease:\r\nIf love be wroth, pass; for thereby is ease.\r\n\r\nThe fifth statute, Not to be dangerous,*              *fastidious, angry\r\nIf that a thought would reave* me of my sleep:                  *deprive\r\nNor of a sight to be over squaimous;*                          *desirous\r\nAnd so verily this statute was to keep,\r\nTo turn and wallow in my bed and weep,\r\nWhen that my lady, of her cruelty,\r\nWould from her heart exilen all pity.\r\n\r\nThe sixth statute, It was for me to use\r\nAlone to wander, void of company,\r\nAnd on my lady\u2019s beauty for to muse,\r\nAnd thinken it *no force* to live or die;       *matter of indifference*\r\nAnd eft again to think* the remedy,                          *think upon\r\nHow to her grace I might anon attain,\r\nAnd tell my woe unto my sovereign.\r\n\r\nThe sev\u2019nth statute was, To be patient,\r\nWhether my lady joyful were or wroth;\r\nFor wordes glad or heavy, diligent,\r\nWhether that she me helde *lefe or loth:*          *in love or loathing*\r\nAnd hereupon I put was to mine oath,\r\nHer for to serve, and lowly to obey,\r\nAnd show my cheer,* yea, twenty times a day.                *countenance\r\n\r\nThe eighth statute, to my rememberance,\r\nWas, For to speak and pray my lady dear,\r\nWith hourly labour and great entendance,*                     *attention\r\nMe for to love with all her heart entere,*                       *entire\r\nAnd me desire and make me joyful cheer,\r\nRight as she is, surmounting every fair;\r\nOf beauty well,* and gentle debonair.                      *the fountain\r\n\r\nThe ninth statute, with letters writ of gold,\r\nThis was the sentence, How that I and all\r\nShould ever dread to be too overbold\r\nHer to displease; and truly so I shall;\r\nBut be content for all thing that may fall,\r\nAnd meekly take her chastisement and yerd,*                   *rod, rule\r\nAnd to offend her ever be afear\u2019d.\r\n\r\nThe tenth statute was, Equally* to discern                       *justly\r\nBetween the lady and thine ability,\r\nAnd think thyself art never like to earn,\r\nBy right, her mercy nor her equity,\r\nBut of her grace and womanly pity:\r\nFor, though thyself be noble in thy strene,*            *strain, descent\r\nA thousand fold more noble is thy Queen.\r\n\r\nThy life\u2019s lady and thy sovereign,\r\nThat hath thine heart all whole in governance,\r\nThou may\u2019st no wise it take to disdain,\r\nTo put thee humbly at her ordinance,\r\nAnd give her free the rein of her pleasance;\r\nFor liberty is thing that women look,*                 *look for, desire\r\nAnd truly else *the matter is a crook.*                *things go wrong*\r\n\r\nTh\u2019 eleventh statute, Thy signes for to know\r\nWith eye and finger, and with smiles soft,\r\nAnd low to couch, and alway for to show,\r\nFor dread of spies, for to winken oft:\r\nAnd secretly to bring a sigh aloft,\r\nBut still beware of over much resort;\r\nFor that peradventure spoileth all thy sport.\r\n\r\nThe twelfth statute remember to observe:\r\nFor all the pain thou hast for love and woe,\r\nAll is too lite* her mercy to deserve,                           *little\r\nThou muste think, where\u2019er thou ride or go;\r\nAnd mortal woundes suffer thou also,\r\nAll for her sake, and think it well beset*                        *spent\r\nUpon thy love, for it may not be bet.*                   *better (spent)\r\n\r\nThe thirteenth statute, Whilom is to think\r\nWhat thing may best thy lady like and please,\r\nAnd in thine hearte\u2019s bottom let it sink:\r\nSome thing devise, and take for it thine ease,\r\nAnd send it her, that may her heart appease:\r\nSome heart, or ring, or letter, or device,\r\nOr precious stone; but spare not for no price.\r\n\r\nThe fourteenth statute eke thou shalt assay\r\nFirmly to keep, the most part of thy life:\r\nWish that thy lady in thine armes lay,\r\nAnd nightly dream, thou hast thy nighte\u2019s wife\r\nSweetly in armes, straining her as blife:*                 *eagerly <22>\r\nAnd, when thou seest it is but fantasy,\r\nSee that thou sing not over merrily;\r\n\r\nFor too much joy hath oft a woeful end.\r\nIt *longeth eke this statute for to hold,*     *it belongs to the proper\r\nTo deem thy lady evermore thy friend,        observance of this statute*\r\nAnd think thyself in no wise a cuckold.\r\nIn ev\u2019ry thing she doth but as she sho\u2019ld:\r\nConstrue the best, believe no tales new,\r\nFor many a lie is told, that seems full true.\r\n\r\nBut think that she, so bounteous and fair,\r\nCould not be false: imagine this algate;*                 *at all events\r\nAnd think that wicked tongues would her apair,*                  *defame\r\nSland\u2019ring her name and *worshipful estate,*           *honourable fame*\r\nAnd lovers true to setten at debate:\r\nAnd though thou seest a fault right at thine eye,\r\nExcuse it blife, and glose* it prettily.                  *gloss it over\r\n\r\nThe fifteenth statute, Use to swear and stare,\r\nAnd counterfeit a leasing* hardily,**                *falsehood **boldly\r\nTo save thy lady\u2019s honour ev\u2019rywhere,\r\nAnd put thyself for her to fight boldly;\r\nSay she is good, virtuous, and ghostly,*                *spiritual, pure\r\nClear of intent, and heart, and thought, and will;\r\nAnd argue not for reason nor for skill\r\n\r\nAgainst thy lady\u2019s pleasure nor intent,\r\nFor love will not be counterpled* indeed:         *met with counterpleas\r\nSay as she saith, then shalt thou not be shent;*              *disgraced\r\n\u201cThe crow is white;\u201d \u201cYea truly, so I rede:\u201d*                     *judge\r\nAnd aye what thing that she will thee forbid,\r\nEschew all that, and give her sov\u2019reignty,\r\nHer appetite to follow in all degree.\r\n\r\nThe sixteenth statute, keep it if thou may: <23>\r\nSev\u2019n times at night thy lady for to please,\r\nAnd sev\u2019n at midnight, sev\u2019n at morrow day,\r\nAnd drink a caudle early for thine ease.\r\nDo this, and keep thine head from all disease,\r\nAnd win the garland here of lovers all,\r\nThat ever came in Court, or ever shall.\r\n\r\nFull few, think I, this statute hold and keep;\r\nBut truly this my reason *gives me feel,*       *enables me to perceive*\r\nThat some lovers should rather fall asleep,\r\nThan take on hand to please so oft and weel.*                      *well\r\nThere lay none oath to this statute adele,*                     *annexed\r\nBut keep who might *as gave him his corage:*               *as his heart\r\nNow get this garland, folk of lusty age!                   inspired him*\r\n\r\nNow win who may, ye lusty folk of youth,\r\nThis garland fresh, of flowers red and white,\r\nPurple and blue, and colours full uncouth,*                     *strange\r\nAnd I shall crown him king of all delight!\r\nIn all the Court there was not, to my sight,\r\nA lover true, that he was not adread,\r\nWhen he express* had heard the statute read.                    *plainly\r\n\r\nThe sev\u2019nteenth statute, When age approacheth on,\r\nAnd lust is laid, and all the fire is queint,*                 *quenched\r\nAs freshly then thou shalt begin to fon,*                 *behave fondly\r\nAnd doat in love, and all her image paint\r\nIn thy remembrance, till thou gin to faint,\r\nAs in the first season thine heart began:\r\nAnd her desire, though thou nor may nor can\r\n\r\nPerform thy living actual and lust;\r\nRegister this in thine rememberance:\r\nEke when thou may\u2019st not keep thy thing from rust,\r\nYet speak and talk of pleasant dalliance;\r\nFor that shall make thine heart rejoice and dance;\r\nAnd when thou may\u2019st no more the game assay,\r\nThe statute bids thee pray for them that may.\r\n\r\nThe eighteenth statute, wholly to commend,\r\nTo please thy lady, is, That thou eschew\r\nWith sluttishness thyself for to offend;\r\nBe jolly, fresh, and feat,* with thinges new,               *dainty <24>\r\nCourtly with manner, this is all thy due,\r\nGentle of port, and loving cleanliness;\r\nThis is the thing that liketh thy mistress.\r\n\r\nAnd not to wander like a dulled ass,\r\nRagged and torn, disguised in array,\r\nRibald in speech, or out of measure pass,\r\nThy bound exceeding; think on this alway:\r\nFor women be of tender heartes ay,\r\nAnd lightly set their pleasure in a place;\r\nWhen they misthink,* they lightly let it pace.            *think wrongly\r\n\r\nThe nineteenth statute, Meat and drink forget:\r\nEach other day see that thou fast for love,\r\nFor in the Court they live withoute meat,\r\nSave such as comes from Venus all above;\r\nThey take no heed, *in pain of great reprove,*         *on pain of great\r\nOf meat and drink, for that is all in vain,                    reproach*\r\nOnly they live by sight of their sov\u2019reign.\r\n\r\nThe twentieth statute, last of ev\u2019ry one,\r\nEnrol it in thy hearte\u2019s privity;\r\nTo wring and wail, to turn, and sigh, and groan,\r\nWhen that thy lady absent is from thee;\r\nAnd eke renew the wordes all that she\r\nBetween you twain hath said, and all the cheer\r\nThat thee hath made thy life\u2019s lady dear.\r\n\r\nAnd see thy heart in quiet nor in rest\r\nSojourn, till time thou see thy lady eft,*                        *again\r\nBut whe\u2019er* she won** by south, or east, or west,       *whether **dwell\r\nWith all thy force now see it be not left\r\nBe diligent, *till time* thy life be reft,         *until the time that*\r\nIn that thou may\u2019st, thy lady for to see;\r\nThis statute was of old antiquity.\r\n\r\nThe officer, called Rigour \u2014 who is incorruptible by\r\npartiality, favour, prayer, or gold \u2014 made them swear\r\nto keep the statutes; and, after taking the oath,\r\nPhilogenet turned over other leaves of the book,\r\ncontaining the statutes of women. But Rigour sternly\r\nbade him forbear; for no man might know the statutes\r\nthat belong to women.\r\n\r\n\u201cIn secret wise they kepte be full close;\r\nThey sound* each one to liberty, my friend;                *tend, accord\r\nPleasant they be, and to their own purpose;\r\nThere wot* no wight of them, but God and fiend,                   *knows\r\nNor aught shall wit, unto the worlde\u2019s end.\r\nThe queen hath giv\u2019n me charge, in pain to die,\r\nNever to read nor see them with mine eye.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor men shall not so near of counsel be\u2019n\r\nWith womanhead, nor knowen of their guise,\r\nNor what they think, nor of their wit th\u2019engine;*                 *craft\r\n*I me report to* Solomon the wise, <25>           *I refer for proof to*\r\nAnd mighty Samson, which beguiled thrice\r\nWith Delilah was; he wot that, in a throw,\r\nThere may no man statute of women know.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor it peradventure may right so befall,\r\nThat they be bound by nature to deceive,\r\nAnd spin, and weep, and sugar strew on gall, <26>\r\nThe heart of man to ravish and to reave,\r\nAnd whet their tongue as sharp as sword or gleve:*        *glaive, sword\r\nIt may betide this is their ordinance,\r\nSo must they lowly do their observance,\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd keep the statute given them *of kind,*                  *by nature*\r\nOf such as Love hath giv\u2019n them in their life.\r\nMen may not wit why turneth every wind,\r\nNor waxe wise, nor be inquisitife\r\nTo know secret of maid, widow, or wife;\r\nFor they their statutes have to them reserved,\r\nAnd never man to know them hath deserved.\u201d\r\n\r\nRigour then sent them forth to pay court to Venus,\r\nand pray her to teach them how they might serve and\r\nplease their dames, or to provide with ladies those\r\nwhose hearts were yet vacant. Before Venus knelt a\r\nthousand sad petitioners, entreating her to punish \u201cthe\r\nfalse untrue,\u201d that had broken their vows, \u201cbarren of\r\nruth, untrue of what they said, now that their lust and\r\npleasure is allay\u2019d.\u201d But the mourners were in a\r\nminority;\r\n\r\nYet eft again, a thousand million,\r\nRejoicing, love, leading their life in bliss:\r\nThey said: \u201cVenus, redress* of all division,                     *healer\r\nGoddess eternal, thy name heried* is!                         *glorified\r\nBy love\u2019s bond is knit all thing, y-wis,*                     *assuredly\r\nBeast unto beast, the earth to water wan,*                         *pale\r\nBird unto bird, and woman unto man; <27>\r\n\r\n\u201cThis is the life of joy that we be in,\r\nResembling life of heav\u2019nly paradise;\r\nLove is exiler ay of vice and sin;\r\nLove maketh heartes lusty to devise;\r\nHonour and grace have they in ev\u2019ry wise,\r\nThat be to love\u2019s law obedient;\r\nLove maketh folk benign and diligent;\r\n\r\n\u201cAye stirring them to dreade vice and shame:\r\nIn their degree it makes them honourable;\r\nAnd sweet it is of love to bear the name,\r\nSo that his love be faithful, true, and stable:\r\nLove pruneth him to seemen amiable;\r\nLove hath no fault where it is exercis\u2019d,\r\nBut sole* with them that have all love despis\u2019d:\u201d                  *only\r\n\r\nAnd they conclude with grateful honours to the goddess\r\n\u2014 rejoicing hat they are hers in heart, and all inflamed\r\nwith her grace and heavenly fear. Philogenet now\r\nentreats the goddess to remove his grief; for he also\r\nloves, and hotly, only he does not know where \u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cSave only this, by God and by my troth;\r\nTroubled I was with slumber, sleep, and sloth\r\nThis other night, and in a vision\r\nI saw a woman roamen up and down,\r\n\r\n\u201cOf *mean stature,* and seemly to behold,              *middling height*\r\nLusty and fresh, demure of countenance,\r\nYoung and well shap\u2019d, with haire sheen* as gold,               *shining\r\nWith eyne as crystal, farced* with pleasance;                   *crammed\r\nAnd she gan stir mine heart a lite* to dance;                    *little\r\nBut suddenly she vanish gan right there:\r\nThus I may say, I love, and wot* not where.\u201d                       *know\r\n\r\nIf he could only know this lady, he would serve and obey her\r\nwith all benignity; but if his destiny were otherwise, he would\r\ngladly love and serve his lady, whosoever she might be. He\r\ncalled on Venus for help to possess his queen and heart\u2019s life,\r\nand vowed daily war with Diana: \u201cthat goddess chaste I keepen\r\n[care] in no wise to serve; a fig for all her chastity!\u201d Then he\r\nrose and went his way, passing by a rich and beautiful shrine,\r\nwhich, Philobone informed him, was the sepulchre of Pity. \u201cA\r\ntender creature,\u201d she said,\r\n\r\n\u201cIs shrined there, and Pity is her name.\r\nShe saw an eagle wreak* him on a fly,                            *avenge\r\nAnd pluck his wing, and eke him, *in his game;*              *for sport*\r\nAnd tender heart of that hath made her die:\r\nEke she would weep, and mourn right piteously,\r\nTo see a lover suffer great distress.\r\nIn all the Court was none, as I do guess,\r\n\r\n\u201cThat could a lover half so well avail,*                           *help\r\nNor of his woe the torment or the rage\r\nAslake;* for he was sure, withoute fail,                        *assuage\r\nThat of his grief she could the heat assuage.\r\nInstead of Pity, speedeth hot Courage\r\nThe matters all of Court, now she is dead;\r\n*I me report in this to womanhead.*         *for evidence I refer to the\r\n                                         behaviour of women themselves.*\r\n\r\n\u201cFor wail, and weep, and cry, and speak, and pray, \u2014\r\nWomen would not have pity on thy plaint;\r\nNor by that means to ease thine heart convey,\r\nBut thee receive for their own talent:*                     *inclination\r\nAnd say that Pity caus\u2019d thee, in consent\r\nOf ruth,* to take thy service and thy pain,                  *compassion\r\nIn that thou may\u2019st, to please thy sovereign.\u201d\r\n\r\nPhilobone now promised to lead Philogenet to \u201cthe fairest lady\r\nunder sun that is,\u201d the \u201cmirror of joy and bliss,\u201d whose name is\r\nRosial, and \u201cwhose heart as yet is given to no wight;\u201d\r\nsuggesting that, as he also was \u201cwith love but light advanc\u2019d,\u201d\r\nhe might set this lady in the place of her of whom he had\r\ndreamed. Entering a chamber gay, \u201cthere was Rosial, womanly\r\nto see;\u201d and the subtle-piercing beams of her eyes wounded\r\nPhilogenet to the heart. When he could speak, he threw himself\r\non his knees, beseeching her to cool his fervent woe:\r\n\r\nFor there I took full purpose in my mind,\r\nUnto her grace my painful heart to bind.\r\n\r\nFor, if I shall all fully her descrive,*                       *describe\r\nHer head was round, by compass of nature;\r\nHer hair as gold, she passed all alive,\r\nAnd lily forehead had this creature,\r\nWith lively *browes flaw,* of colour pure,         *yellow eyebrows <28>\r\nBetween the which was mean disseverance\r\nFrom ev\u2019ry brow, to show a due distance.\r\n\r\nHer nose directed straight, even as line,\r\nWith form and shape thereto convenient,\r\nIn which the *goddes\u2019 milk-white path* doth shine;          *the galaxy*\r\nAnd eke her eyne be bright and orient\r\nAs is the smaragd,* unto my judgment,                           *emerald\r\nOr yet these starres heav\u2019nly, small, and bright;\r\nHer visage is of lovely red and white.\r\n\r\nHer mouth is short, and shut in little space,\r\nFlaming somedeal,* not over red I mean,                        *somewhat\r\nWith pregnant lips, and thick to kiss, percase*           *as it chanced\r\n(For lippes thin, not fat, but ever lean,\r\nThey serve of naught, they be not worth a bean;\r\nFor if the bass* be full, there is delight;                   *kiss <29>\r\nMaximian <30> truly thus doth he write).\r\n\r\nBut to my purpose: I say, white as snow\r\nBe all her teeth, and in order they stand\r\nOf one stature; and eke her breath, I trow,\r\nSurmounteth all odours that e\u2019er I fand*                          *found\r\nIn sweetness; and her body, face, and hand\r\nBe sharply slender, so that, from the head\r\nUnto the foot, all is but womanhead.*                *womanly perfection\r\n\r\nI hold my peace of other thinges hid:\r\nHere shall my soul, and not my tongue, bewray;\r\nBut how she was array\u2019d, if ye me bid,\r\nThat shall I well discover you and say:\r\nA bend* of gold and silk, full fresh and gay,                      *band\r\nWith hair *in tress, y-broidered* full well,        *plaited in tresses*\r\nRight smoothly kempt,* and shining every deal.                   *combed\r\n\r\nAbout her neck a flow\u2019r of fresh device\r\nWith rubies set, that lusty were to see\u2019n;\r\nAnd she in gown was, light and summer-wise,\r\nShapen full well, the colour was of green,\r\nWith *aureate seint* about her sides clean,            *golden cincture*\r\nWith divers stones, precious and rich:\r\nThus was she ray\u2019d,* yet saw I ne\u2019er her lich,**         *arrayed **like\r\n\r\nIf Jove had but seen this lady, Calisto and Alcmena had never\r\nlain in his arms, nor had he loved the fair Europa, nor Danae,\r\nnor Antiope; \u201cfor all their beauty stood in Rosial; she seemed\r\nlike a thing celestial.\u201d By and by, Philogenet presented to her his\r\npetition for love, which she heard with some haughtiness; she\r\nwas not, she said, well acquainted with him, she did not know\r\nwhere he dwelt, nor his name and condition. He informed her\r\nthat \u201cin art of love he writes,\u201d and makes songs that may be\r\nsung in honour of the King and Queen of Love. As for his name\r\n\u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cMy name? alas, my heart, why mak\u2019st thou strange?*         *why so cold\r\nPhilogenet I call\u2019d am far and near,                        or distant?*\r\nOf Cambridge clerk, that never think to change\r\nFrom you, that with your heav\u2019nly streames* clear        *beams, glances\r\nRavish my heart; and ghost, and all in fere:*              *all together\r\nSince at the first I writ my bill* for grace,                  *petition\r\nMe thinks I see some mercy in your face;\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd again he humbly pressed his suit. But the lady disdained the\r\nidea that, \u201cfor a word of sugar\u2019d eloquence,\u201d she should have\r\ncompassion in so little space; \u201cthere come but few who speede\r\nhere so soon.\u201d If, as he says, the beams of her eyes pierce and\r\nfret him, then let him withdraw from her presence:\r\n\r\n\u201cHurt not yourself, through folly, with a look;\r\nI would be sorry so to make you sick!\r\nA woman should beware eke whom she took:\r\nYe be a clerk: go searche well my book,\r\nIf any women be so light* to win:                                  *easy\r\nNay, bide a while, though ye were *all my kin.\u201d*       *my only kindred*\r\n\r\nHe might sue and serve, and wax pale, and green, and dead,\r\nwithout murmuring in any wise; but whereas he desired her\r\nhastily to lean to love, he was unwise, and must cease that\r\nlanguage. For some had been at Court for twenty years, and\r\nmight not obtain their mistresses\u2019 favour; therefore she\r\nmarvelled that he was so bold as to treat of love with her.\r\nPhilogenet, on this, broke into pitiful lamentation; bewailing the\r\nhour in which he was born, and assuring the unyielding lady that\r\nthe frosty grave and cold must be his bed, unless she relented.\r\n\r\nWith that I fell in swoon, and dead as stone,\r\nWith colour slain,* and wan as ashes pale;                    *deathlike\r\nAnd by the hand she caught me up anon:\r\n\u201cArise,\u201d quoth she; \u201cwhat? have ye drunken dwale?* *sleeping potion <31>\r\nWhy sleepe ye? It is no nightertale.\u201d*                       *night-time\r\n\u201cNow mercy! sweet,\u201d quoth I, y-wis afraid;\r\n\u201cWhat thing,\u201d quoth she, \u201chath made you so dismay\u2019d?\u201d\r\n\r\nShe said that by his hue she knew well that he was a lover; and\r\nif he were secret, courteous, and kind, he might know how all\r\nthis could be allayed. She would amend all that she had missaid,\r\nand set his heart at ease; but he must faithfully keep the statutes,\r\n\u201cand break them not for sloth nor ignorance.\u201d The lover\r\nrequests, however, that the sixteenth may be released or\r\nmodified, for it \u201cdoth him great grievance;\u201d and she complies.\r\n\r\nAnd softly then her colour gan appear,\r\nAs rose so red, throughout her visage all;\r\nWherefore methinks it is according* her                  *appropriate to\r\nThat she of right be called Rosial.\r\nThus have I won, with wordes great and small,\r\nSome goodly word of her that I love best,\r\nAnd trust she shall yet set mine heart in rest.\r\n\r\nRosial now told Philobone to conduct Philogenet all over the\r\nCourt, and show him what lovers and what officers dwelt there;\r\nfor he was yet a stranger.\r\n\r\nAnd, stalking soft with easy pace, I saw\r\nAbout the king standen all environ,*                        *around <32>\r\nAttendance, Diligence, and their fellaw\r\nFurtherer, Esperance,* and many one;                               *Hope\r\nDread-to-offend there stood, and not alone;\r\nFor there was eke the cruel adversair,\r\nThe lover\u2019s foe, that called is Despair;\r\n\r\nWhich unto me spake angrily and fell,*                          *cruelly\r\nAnd said, my lady me deceive shall:\r\n\u201cTrow\u2019st thou,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthat all that she did tell\r\nIs true? Nay, nay, but under honey gall.\r\nThy birth and hers they be no thing egal:*                        *equal\r\nCast off thine heart, <33> for all her wordes white,\r\nFor in good faith she loves thee but a lite.*                    *little\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd eke remember, thine ability\r\nMay not compare with her, this well thou wot.\u201d\r\nYea, then came Hope and said, \u201cMy friend, let be!\r\nBelieve him not: Despair he gins to doat.\u201d\r\n\u201cAlas,\u201d quoth I, \u201chere is both cold and hot:\r\nThe one me biddeth love, the other nay;\r\nThus wot I not what me is best to say.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut well wot I, my lady granted me\r\nTruly to be my wounde\u2019s remedy;\r\nHer gentleness* may not infected be                        *noble nature\r\nWith doubleness,* this trust I till I die.\u201d                   *duplicity\r\nSo cast I t\u2019 avoid Despair\u2019s company,\r\nAnd take Hope to counsel and to friend.\r\n\u201cYea, keep that well,\u201d quoth Philobone, \u201cin mind.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd there beside, within a bay window,\r\nStood one in green, full large of breadth and length,\r\nHis beard as black as feathers of the crow;\r\nHis name was Lust, of wondrous might and strength;\r\nAnd with Delight to argue there he think\u2019th,\r\nFor this was alway his opinion,\r\nThat love was sin: and so he hath begun\r\n\r\nTo reason fast, and *ledge authority:*               *allege authorities\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth Delight, \u201clove is a virtue clear,\r\nAnd from the soul his progress holdeth he:\r\nBlind appetite of lust doth often steer,*              *stir (the heart)\r\nAnd that is sin; for reason lacketh there:\r\nFor thou dost think thy neighbour\u2019s wife to win;\r\nYet think it well that love may not be sin;\r\n\r\n\u201cFor God, and saint, they love right verily,\r\nVoid of all sin and vice: this know I weel,*                       *well\r\nAffection of flesh is sin truly;\r\nBut very* love is virtue, as I feel;                               *true\r\nFor very love may frail desire akele:*                             *cool\r\nFor very love is love withoute sin.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow stint,\u201d* quoth Lust, \u201cthou speak\u2019st not worth a pin.\u201d        *cease\r\n\r\nAnd there I left them in their arguing,\r\nRoaming farther into the castle wide,\r\nAnd in a corner Liar stood talking\r\nOf leasings* fast, with Flattery there beside;               *falsehoods\r\nHe said that women *ware attire of pride,                          *wore\r\nAnd men were found of nature variant,\r\nAnd could be false and *showe beau semblant.*          *put on plausible\r\n                                                 appearances to deceive*\r\nThen Flattery bespake and said, y-wis:\r\n\u201cSee, so she goes on pattens fair and feat;*               *pretty, neat\r\nIt doth right well: what pretty man is this\r\nThat roameth here? now truly drink nor meat\r\nNeed I not have, my heart for joy doth beat\r\nHim to behold, so is he goodly fresh:\r\nIt seems for love his heart is tender and nesh.\u201d*             *soft <34>\r\n\r\nThis is the Court of lusty folk and glad,\r\nAnd well becomes their habit and array:\r\nO why be some so sorry and so sad,\r\nComplaining thus in black and white and gray?\r\nFriars they be, and monkes, in good fay:\r\nAlas, for ruth! great dole* it is to see,                        *sorrow\r\nTo see them thus bewail and sorry be.\r\n\r\nSee how they cry and ring their handes white,\r\nFor they so soon* went to religion!,                              *young\r\nAnd eke the nuns with veil and wimple plight,*                  *plaited\r\nTheir thought is, they be in confusion:\r\n\u201cAlas,\u201d they say, \u201cwe feign perfection, <35>\r\nIn clothes wide, and lack our liberty;\r\nBut all the sin must on our friendes be. <36>\r\n\r\n\u201cFor, Venus wot, we would as fain* as ye,                        *gladly\r\nThat be attired here and *well beseen,*                  *gaily clothed*\r\nDesire man, and love in our degree,\u2019\r\nFirm and faithful, right as would the Queen:\r\nOur friendes wick\u2019, in tender youth and green,\r\nAgainst our will made us religious;\r\nThat is the cause we mourn and waile thus.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen said the monks and friars *in the tide,*         *at the same time*\r\n\u201cWell may we curse our abbeys and our place,\r\nOur statutes sharp to sing in copes wide, <37>\r\nChastely to keep us out of love\u2019s grace,\r\nAnd never to feel comfort nor solace;*                          *delight\r\nYet suffer we the heat of love\u2019s fire,\r\nAnd after some other haply we desire.\r\n\r\n\u201cO Fortune cursed, why now and wherefore\r\nHast thou,\u201d they said, \u201cbereft us liberty,\r\nSince Nature gave us instrument in store,\r\nAnd appetite to love and lovers be?\r\nWhy must we suffer such adversity,\r\nDian\u2019 to serve, and Venus to refuse?\r\nFull *often sithe* these matters do us muse.               *many a time*\r\n\r\n\u201cWe serve and honour, sore against our will,\r\nOf chastity the goddess and the queen;\r\n*Us liefer were* with Venus bide still,                *we would rather*\r\nAnd have regard for love, and subject be\u2019n\r\nUnto these women courtly, fresh, and sheen.*          *bright, beautiful\r\nFortune, we curse thy wheel of variance!\r\nWhere we were well, thou reavest* our pleasance.\u201d           *takest away\r\n\r\nThus leave I them, with voice of plaint and care,\r\nIn raging woe crying full piteously;\r\nAnd as I went, full naked and full bare\r\nSome I beheld, looking dispiteously,\r\nOn Poverty that deadly cast their eye;\r\nAnd \u201cWell-away!\u201d they cried, and were not fain,\r\nFor they might not their glad desire attain.\r\n\r\nFor lack of riches worldly and of good,\r\nThey ban and curse, and weep, and say, \u201cAlas!\r\nThat povert\u2019 hath us hent,* that whilom stood                    *seized\r\nAt hearte\u2019s ease, and free and in good case!\r\nBut now we dare not show ourselves in place,\r\nNor us embold* to dwell in company,                  *make bold, venture\r\nWhere as our heart would love right faithfully.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd yet againward shrieked ev\u2019ry nun,\r\nThe pang of love so strained them to cry:\r\n\u201cNow woe the time,\u201d quoth they, \u201cthat we be boun\u2019!*               *bound\r\nThis hateful order nice* will do us die!        *into which we foolishly\r\nWe sigh and sob, and bleeden inwardly,                           entered\r\nFretting ourselves with thought and hard complaint,\r\nThat nigh for love we waxe wood* and faint.\u201d                        *mad\r\n\r\nAnd as I stood beholding here and there,\r\nI was ware of a sort* full languishing,               *a class of people\r\nSavage and wild of looking and of cheer,\r\nTheir mantles and their clothes aye tearing;\r\nAnd oft they were of Nature complaining,\r\nFor they their members lacked, foot and hand,\r\nWith visage wry, and blind, I understand.\r\n\r\nThey lacked shape and beauty to prefer\r\nThemselves in love: and said that God and Kind*                  *Nature\r\nHad forged* them to worshippe the sterre,**            *fashioned **star\r\nVenus the bright, and leften all behind\r\nHis other workes clean and out of mind:\r\n\u201cFor other have their full shape and beauty,\r\nAnd we,\u201d quoth they, \u201cbe in deformity.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd nigh to them there was a company,\r\nThat have the Sisters warray\u2019d and missaid,\r\nI mean the three of fatal destiny, <38>\r\nThat be our workers: suddenly abraid,*                          *aroused\r\nOut gan they cry as they had been afraid;\r\n\u201cWe curse,\u201d quoth they, \u201cthat ever hath Nature\r\nY-formed us this woeful life t\u2019endure.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd there eke was Contrite, and gan repent,\r\nConfessing whole the wound that Cythere <39>\r\nHad with the dart of hot desire him sent,\r\nAnd how that he to love must subject be:\r\nThen held he all his scornes vanity,\r\nAnd said that lovers held a blissful life,\r\nYoung men and old, and widow, maid, and wife.\r\n\r\n\u201cBereave me, Goddess!\u201d quoth he, \u201cof thy might,\r\nMy scornes all and scoffes, that I have\r\nNo power for to mocken any wight\r\nThat in thy service dwell: for I did rave;\r\nThis know I well right now, so God me save,\r\nAnd I shall be the chief post* of thy faith,               *prop, pillar\r\nAnd love uphold, the reverse whoso saith.\u201d\r\n\r\nDissemble stood not far from him in truth,\r\nWith party* mantle, party hood and hose;                 *parti-coloured\r\nAnd said he had upon his lady ruth,*                               *pity\r\nAnd thus he wound him in, and gan to glose,\r\nOf his intent full double, I suppose:\r\nIn all the world he said he lov\u2019d her weel;\r\nBut ay me thought he lov\u2019d her *ne\u2019er a deal.*             *never a jot*\r\n\r\nEke Shamefastness was there, as I took heed,\r\nThat blushed red, and durst not be y-know\r\nShe lover was, for thereof had she dread;\r\nShe stood and hung her visage down alow;\r\nBut such a sight it was to see, I trow,\r\nAs of these roses ruddy on their stalk:\r\nThere could no wight her spy to speak or talk\r\n\r\nIn love\u2019s art, so gan she to abash,\r\nNor durst not utter all her privity:\r\nMany a stripe and many a grievous lash\r\nShe gave to them that woulde lovers be,\r\nAnd hinder\u2019d sore the simple commonalty,\r\nThat in no wise durst grace and mercy crave,\r\nFor *were not she,* they need but ask and have;            *but for her*\r\n\r\nWhere if they now approache for to speak,\r\nThen Shamefastness *returneth them* again:             *turns them back*\r\nThey think, \u201cIf we our secret counsel break,\r\nOur ladies will have scorn us certain,\r\nAnd peradventure thinke great disdain:\u201d\r\nThus Shamefastness may bringen in Despair;\r\nWhen she is dead the other will be heir.\r\n\r\n \u201cCome forth Avaunter! now I ring thy bell!\u201d <40>\r\nI spied him soon; to God I make avow,*                       *confession\r\nHe looked black as fiendes do in Hell:\r\n\u201cThe first,\u201d quoth he, \u201cthat ever I did wow,*                       *woo\r\n*Within a word she came,* I wot not how,               *she was won with\r\nSo that in armes was my lady free,                        a single word*\r\nAnd so have been a thousand more than she.\r\n\r\n\u201cIn England, Britain,* Spain, and Picardy,                     *Brittany\r\nArtois, and France, and up in high Holland,\r\nIn Burgoyne,* Naples, and in Italy,                            *Burgundy\r\nNavarre, and Greece, and up in heathen land,\r\nWas never woman yet that would withstand\r\nTo be at my commandment when I wo\u2019ld:\r\nI lacked neither silver coin nor gold.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd there I met with this estate and that;\r\nAnd her I broach\u2019d, and her, and her, I trow:\r\nLo! there goes one of mine; and, wot ye what?\r\nYon fresh attired have I laid full low;\r\nAnd such one yonder eke right well I know;\r\nI kept the statute <41> when we lay y-fere:*                   *together\r\nAnd yet* yon same hath made me right good cheer.\u201d                  *also\r\n\r\nThus hath Avaunter blowen ev\u2019rywhere\r\nAll that he knows, and more a thousand fold;\r\nHis ancestry of kin was to Lier,*                                  *Liar\r\nFor first he maketh promise for to hold\r\nHis lady\u2019s counsel, and it not unfold; \u2014\r\nWherefore, the secret when he doth unshit,*                    *disclose\r\nThen lieth he, that all the world may wit.*                        *know\r\n\r\nFor falsing so his promise and behest,*                           *trust\r\nI wonder sore he hath such fantasy;\r\nHe lacketh wit, I trow, or is a beast,\r\nThat can no bet* himself with reason guy**               *better **guide\r\nBy mine advice, Love shall be contrary\r\nTo his avail,* and him eke dishonour,                         *advantage\r\nSo that in Court he shall no more sojour.*              *sojourn, remain\r\n\r\n\u201cTake heed,\u201d quoth she, this little Philobone,\r\n\u201cWhere Envy rocketh in the corner yond,*                         *yonder\r\nAnd sitteth dark; and ye shall see anon\r\nHis lean body, fading both face and hand;\r\nHimself he fretteth,* as I understand                          devoureth\r\n(Witness of Ovid Metamorphoseos); <42>\r\nThe lover\u2019s foe he is, I will not glose.*                    *gloss over\r\n\r\n\u201cFor where a lover thinketh *him promote,*          *to promote himself*\r\nEnvy will grudge, repining at his weal;\r\nIt swelleth sore about his hearte\u2019s root,\r\nThat in no wise he cannot live in heal;*                         *health\r\nAnd if the faithful to his lady steal,\r\nEnvy will noise and ring it round about,\r\nAnd say much worse than done is, out of doubt.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd Privy Thought, rejoicing of himself, \u2014\r\nStood not far thence in habit marvellous;\r\n\u201cYon is,\u201d thought I, \u201csome spirit or some elf,\r\nHis subtile image is so curious:\r\nHow is,\u201d quoth I, \u201cthat he is shaded thus\r\nWith yonder cloth, I n\u2019ot* of what color?\u201d                     *know not\r\nAnd near I went and gan *to lear and pore,*            *to ascertain and\r\n                                                         gaze curiously*\r\nAnd frained* him a question full hard.                            *asked\r\n\u201cWhat is,\u201d quoth I, \u201cthe thing thou lovest best?\r\nOr what is boot* unto thy paines hard?                           *remedy\r\nMe thinks thou livest here in great unrest,\r\nThou wand\u2019rest aye from south to east and west,\r\nAnd east to north; as far as I can see,\r\nThere is no place in Court may holde thee.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhom followest thou? where is thy heart y-set?\r\nBut *my demand assoil,* I thee require.\u201d            *answer my question*\r\n\u201cMe thought,\u201d quoth he, \u201cno creature may let*                    *hinder\r\nMe to be here, and where as I desire;\r\nFor where as absence hath out the fire,\r\nMy merry thought it kindleth yet again,\r\nThat bodily, me thinks, with *my sov\u2019reign*                    *my lady*\r\n\r\n\u201cI stand, and speak, and laugh, and kiss, and halse;*           *embrace\r\nSo that my thought comforteth me full oft:\r\nI think, God wot, though all the world be false,\r\nI will be true; I think also how soft\r\nMy lady is in speech, and this on loft\r\nBringeth my heart with joy and great gladness;\r\nThis privy thought allays my heaviness.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd what I think, or where, to be, no man\r\nIn all this Earth can tell, y-wis, but I:\r\nAnd eke there is no swallow swift, nor swan\r\nSo wight* of wing, nor half so yern** can fly;         *nimble **eagerly\r\nFor I can be, and that right suddenly,\r\nIn Heav\u2019n, in Hell, in Paradise, and here,\r\nAnd with my lady, when I will desire.\r\n\r\n\u201cI am of counsel far and wide, I wot,\r\nWith lord and lady, and their privity\r\nI wot it all; but, be it cold or hot,\r\nThey shall not speak without licence of me.\r\nI mean, in such as seasonable* be,                              *prudent\r\nTho* first the thing is thought within the heart,                  *when\r\nEre any word out from the mouth astart.\u201d*                        *escape\r\n\r\nAnd with the word Thought bade farewell and yede:*            *went away\r\nEke forth went I to see the Courte\u2019s guise,\r\nAnd at the door came in, so God me speed,\r\nTwo courtiers of age and of assise*                                *size\r\nLike high, and broad, and, as I me advise,\r\nThe Golden Love and Leaden Love <43> they hight:*           *were called\r\nThe one was sad, the other glad and light.\r\n\r\nAt this point there is a hiatus in the poem, which abruptly ceases\r\nto narrate the tour of Philogenet and Philobone round the\r\nCourt, and introduces us again to Rosial, who is speaking thus\r\nto her lover, apparently in continuation of a confession of love:\r\n\r\n\u201cYes! draw your heart, with all your force and might,\r\nTo lustiness, and be as ye have said.\u201d\r\n\r\nShe admits that she would have given him no drop of favour,\r\nbut that she saw him \u201cwax so dead of countenance;\u201d then Pity\r\n\u201cout of her shrine arose from death to life,\u201d whisperingly\r\nentreating that she would do him some pleasance. Philogenet\r\nprotests his gratitude to Pity, his faithfulness to Rosial; and the\r\nlady, thanking him heartily, bids him abide with her till the\r\nseason of May, when the King of Love and all his company will\r\nhold his feast fully royally and well. \u201cAnd there I bode till that\r\nthe season fell.\u201d\r\n\r\nOn May Day, when the lark began to rise,\r\nTo matins went the lusty nightingale,\r\nWithin a temple shapen hawthorn-wise;\r\nHe might not sleep in all the nightertale,*                  *night-time\r\nBut \u201cDomine\u201d <44> gan he cry and gale,*                        *call out\r\n\u201cMy lippes open, Lord of Love, I cry,\r\nAnd let my mouth thy praising now bewry.\u201d*                   *show forth\r\n\r\nThe eagle sang \u201cVenite,\u201d <45> bodies all,\r\nAnd let us joy to love that is our health.\u201d\r\nAnd to the desk anon they gan to fall,\r\nAnd who came late he pressed in by stealth\r\nThen said the falcon, \u201cOur own heartes\u2019 wealth,\r\n\u2018Domine Dominus noster,\u2019 <46> I wot,\r\nYe be the God that do* us burn thus hot.\u201d                          *make\r\n\r\n\u201cCoeli enarrant,\u201d <47> said the popinjay,*                       *parrot\r\n\u201cYour might is told in Heav\u2019n and firmament.\u201d\r\nAnd then came in the goldfinch fresh and gay,\r\nAnd said this psalm with heartly glad intent,\r\n\u201cDomini est terra;\u201d <48> this Latin intent,*                      *means\r\nThe God of Love hath earth in governance:\r\nAnd then the wren began to skip and dance.\r\n\r\n\u201cJube Domine; <49> O Lord of Love, I pray\r\nCommand me well this lesson for to read;\r\nThis legend is of all that woulde dey*                              *die\r\nMartyrs for love; God yet their soules speed!\r\nAnd to thee, Venus, sing we, *out of dread,*             *without doubt*\r\nBy influence of all thy virtue great,\r\nBeseeching thee to keep us in our heat.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe second lesson robin redbreast sang,\r\n\u201cHail to the God and Goddess of our lay!\u201d*                *law, religion\r\nAnd to the lectern amorously he sprang:\r\n\u201cHail now,\u201d quoth be, \u201cO fresh season of May,\r\n*Our moneth glad that singen on the spray!*      *glad month for us that\r\nHail to the flowers, red, and white, and blue,      sing upon the bough*\r\nWhich by their virtue maken our lust new!\u201d\r\n\r\nThe third lesson the turtle-dove took up,\r\nAnd thereat laugh\u2019d the mavis* in a scorn:                    *blackbird\r\nHe said, \u201cO God, as might I dine or sup,\r\nThis foolish dove will give us all a horn!\r\nThere be right here a thousand better born,\r\nTo read this lesson, which as well as he,\r\nAnd eke as hot, can love in all degree.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe turtle-dove said, \u201cWelcome, welcome May,\r\nGladsome and light to lovers that be true!\r\nI thank thee, Lord of Love, that doth purvey\r\nFor me to read this lesson all *of due;*                   *in due form*\r\nFor, in good sooth, *of corage* I pursue             *with all my heart*\r\nTo serve my make* till death us must depart:\u201d                      *mate\r\nAnd then \u201cTu autem\u201d <50> sang he all apart.\r\n\r\n\u201cTe Deum amoris\u201d <51> sang the throstel* cock:                   *thrush\r\nTubal <52> himself, the first musician,\r\nWith key of harmony could not unlock\r\nSo sweet a tune as that the throstel can:\r\n\u201cThe Lord of Love we praise,\u201d quoth he than,*                      *then\r\nAnd so do all the fowles great and lite;*                        *little\r\n\u201cHonour we May, in false lovers\u2019 despite.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cDominus regnavit,\u201d <53> said the peacock there,\r\n\u201cThe Lord of Love, that mighty prince, y-wis,\r\nHe is received here and ev\u2019rywhere:\r\nNow Jubilate <54> sing:\u201d \u201cWhat meaneth this?\u201d\r\nSaid then the linnet; \u201cwelcome, Lord of bliss!\u201d\r\nOut start the owl with \u201cBenedicite,\u201d <55>\r\n\u201cWhat meaneth all this merry fare?\u201d* quoth he.              *doing, fuss\r\n\r\n\u201cLaudate,\u201d <56> sang the lark with voice full shrill;\r\nAnd eke the kite \u201cO admirabile;\u201d <57>\r\nThis quire* will through mine eares pierce and thrill;            *choir\r\nBut what? welcome this May season,\u201d quoth he;\r\n\u201cAnd honour to the Lord of Love must be,\r\nThat hath this feast so solemn and so high:\u201d\r\n\u201cAmen,\u201d said all; and so said eke the pie.*                      *magpie\r\n\r\nAnd forth the cuckoo gan proceed anon,\r\nWith \u201cBenedictus\u201d <58> thanking God in haste,\r\nThat in this May would visit them each one,\r\nAnd gladden them all while the feast shall last:\r\nAnd therewithal a-laughter* out he brast;\u201d**        *in laughter **burst\r\n\u201cI thanke God that I should end the song,\r\nAnd all the service which hath been so long.\u201d\r\n\r\nThus sang they all the service of the feast,\r\nAnd that was done right early, to my doom;*                    *judgment\r\nAnd forth went all the Court, both *most and least,*    *great and small\r\nTo fetch the flowers fresh, and branch and bloom;\r\nAnd namely* hawthorn brought both page and groom,            *especially\r\nWith freshe garlands party* blue and white, <59>         *parti-coloured\r\nAnd then rejoiced in their great delight.\r\n\r\nEke each at other threw the flowers bright,\r\nThe primerose, the violet, and the gold;\r\nSo then, as I beheld the royal sight,\r\nMy lady gan me suddenly behold,\r\nAnd with a true love, plighted many a fold,\r\nShe smote me through the very heart *as blive;*            *straightway*\r\nAnd Venus yet I thank I am alive.\r\n\r\nExplicit*                                                       *The End\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The Court of Love\r\n\r\n\r\n1. So the Man of Law, in the prologue to his Tale, is made to\r\nsay that Chaucer \u201ccan but lewedly (ignorantly or imperfectly) on\r\nmetres and on rhyming craftily.\u201d But the humility of those\r\napologies is not justified by the care and finish of his earlier\r\npoems.\r\n\r\n2. Born: burnish, polish: the poet means, that his verses do not\r\ndisplay the eloquence or brilliancy of Cicero in setting forth his\r\nsubject-matter.\r\n\r\n3. Galfrid: Geoffrey de Vinsauf to whose treatise on poetical\r\ncomposition a less flattering allusion is made in The Nun\u2019s\r\nPriest\u2019s Tale. See note 33 to that Tale.\r\n\r\n4. Stirp: race, stock; Latin, \u201cstirps.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. Calliope is the epic muse \u2014 \u201csister\u201d to the other eight.\r\n\r\n6. Melpomene was the tragic muse.\r\n\r\n7. The same is said of Griselda, in The Clerk\u2019s Tale; though she\r\nwas of tender years, \u201cyet in the breast of her virginity there was\r\ninclos\u2019d a sad and ripe corage\u201d\r\n\r\n8. The confusion which Chaucer makes between Cithaeron and\r\nCythera, has already been remarked.  See note 41 to the\r\nKnight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n9. Balais: Bastard rubies; said to be so called from Balassa, the\r\nAsian country where they were found. Turkeis: turquoise\r\nstones.\r\n\r\n10. Spenser, in his description of the House of Busirane, speaks\r\nof the sad distress into which Phoebus was plunged by Cupid, in\r\nrevenge for the betrayal of \u201chis mother\u2019s wantonness, when she\r\nwith Mars was meint [mingled] in joyfulness\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Alcestis, daughter of Pelias, was won to wife by Admetus,\r\nKing of Pherae, who complied with her father\u2019s demand that he\r\nshould come to claim her in a chariot drawn by lions and boars.\r\nBy the aid of Apollo \u2014 who tended the flocks of Admetus\r\nduring his banishment from heaven \u2014 the suitor fulfilled the\r\ncondition; and Apollo further induced the Moirae or Fates to\r\ngrant that Admetus should never die, if his father, mother, or\r\nwife would die for him. Alcestis devoted herself in his stead;\r\nand, since each had made great efforts or sacrifices for love, the\r\npair are fitly placed as king and queen in the Court of Love.\r\n\r\n12. In the prologue to the \u201cLegend of Good Women,\u201d Chaucer\r\nsays that behind the God of Love, upon the green, he \u201csaw\r\ncoming in ladies nineteen;\u201d but the stories of only nine good\r\nwomen are there told. In the prologue to The Man of Law\u2019s\r\nTale, sixteen ladies are named as having their stories written in\r\nthe \u201cSaints\u2019 Legend of Cupid\u201d \u2014 now known as the \u201cLegend of\r\nGood Women\u201d \u2014 (see note 5 to the Prologue to the Man of\r\nLaw\u2019s Tale); and in the \u201cRetractation,\u201d at the end of the Parson\u2019s\r\nTale, the \u201cBook of the Twenty-five Ladies\u201d is enumerated\r\namong the works of which the poet repents \u2014 but there \u201cxxv\u201d is\r\nsupposed to have been by some copyist written for \u201cxix.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. fele: many; German, \u201cviele.\u201d\r\n\r\n14. Arras: tapestry of silk, made at Arras, in France.\r\n\r\n15. Danger, in the Provencal Courts of Love, was the\r\nallegorical personification of the husband; and Disdain suitably\r\nrepresents the lover\u2019s corresponding difficulty from the side of\r\nthe lady.\r\n\r\n16. In The Knight\u2019s Tale, Emily\u2019s yellow hair is braided in a\r\ntress, or plait, that hung a yard long behind her back; so that,\r\nboth as regards colour and fashion, a singular resemblance\r\nseems to have existed between the female taste of 1369 and that\r\nof 1869.\r\n\r\n17. In an old monkish story \u2014 reproduced by Boccaccio, and\r\nfrom him by La Fontaine in the Tale called \u201cLes Oies de Frere\r\nPhilippe\u201d  \u2014 a young man is brought up without sight or\r\nknowledge of women, and, when he sees them on a visit to the\r\ncity, he is told that they are geese.\r\n\r\n18. Tabernacle: A shrine or canopy of stone, supported by\r\npillars.\r\n\r\n19. Mister folk:  handicraftsmen, or tradesmen, who have\r\nlearned \u201cmysteries.\u201d\r\n\r\n20. The loves \u201cOf Queen Annelida and False Arcite\u201d formed the\r\nsubject of a short unfinished poem by Chaucer, which was\r\nafterwards worked up into The Knight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n21. Blue was the colour of truth. See note 36 to the Squire\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n22. Blife: quickly, eagerly; for \u201cblive\u201d or \u201cbelive.\u201d\r\n\r\n23. It will be seen afterwards that Philogenet does not relish it,\r\nand pleads for its relaxation.\r\n\r\n24. Feat: dainty, neat, handsome; the same as \u201cfetis,\u201d oftener\r\nused in Chaucer; the adverb \u201cfeatly\u201d is still used, as applied to\r\ndancing, &c.\r\n\r\n25. Solomon was beguiled by his heathenish wives to forsake\r\nthe worship of the true God; Samson fell a victim to the wiles of\r\nDelilah.\r\n\r\n26. Compare the speech of Proserpine to Pluto, in The\r\nMerchant\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n27. See note 91 to the Knight\u2019s Tale for a parallel.\r\n\r\n28. Flaw: yellow; Latin, \u201cflavus,\u201d French, \u201cfauve.\u201d\r\n\r\n29. Bass: kiss; French, \u201cbaiser;\u201d and hence the more vulgar\r\n\u201cbuss.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. Maximian: Cornelius Maximianus Gallus flourished in the\r\ntime of the Emperor Anastasius; in one of his elegies, he\r\nprofessed a preference for flaming and somewhat swelling lips,\r\nwhich, when he tasted them, would give him full kisses.\r\n\r\n31. Dwale: sleeping potion, narcotic. See note 19 to the Reeve\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n32. Environ: around; French, \u201ca l\u2019environ.\u201d\r\n\r\n33. Cast off thine heart: i.e.  from confidence in her.\r\n\r\n34. Nesh: soft, delicate; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cnese.\u201d\r\n\r\n35. Perfection: Perfectly holy life, in the performance of vows\r\nof poverty, chastity, obedience, and other modes of mortifying\r\nthe flesh.\r\n\r\n36. All the sin must on our friendes be: who made us take the\r\nvows before they knew our own dispositions, or ability, to keep\r\nthem.\r\n\r\n37. Cope: The large vestment worn in singing the service in the\r\nchoir. In Chaucer\u2019s time it seems to have been a distinctively\r\nclerical piece of dress; so, in the prologue to The Monk\u2019s Tale,\r\nthe Host, lamenting that so stalwart a man as the Monk should\r\nhave gone into religion, exclaims, \u201cAlas! why wearest thou so\r\nwide a cope?\u201d\r\n\r\n38. The three of fatal destiny: The three Fates.\r\n\r\n39. Cythere:  Cytherea  \u2014  Venus, so called from the name of\r\nthe island, Cythera, into which her worship was first introduced\r\nfrom Phoenicia.\r\n\r\n40. Avaunter: Boaster; Philobone calls him out.\r\n\r\n41. The statute: i.e. the 16th.\r\n\r\n42. \u201cMetamorphoses\u201d Lib. ii. 768 et seqq., where a general\r\ndescription of Envy is given.\r\n\r\n43. Golden Love and Leaden Love represent successful and\r\nunsuccessful love; the first kindled by Cupid\u2019s golden darts, the\r\nsecond by his leaden arrows.\r\n\r\n44. \u201cDomine, labia mea aperies \u2014 et os meam annunciabit\r\nlaudem tuam\u201d (\u201cLord, open my lips \u2014 and my mouth will\r\nannounce your praise\u201d) Psalms li. 15, was the verse with which\r\nMatins began. The stanzas which follow contain a paraphrase of\r\nthe matins for Trinity Sunday, allegorically setting forth the\r\ndoctrine that love is the all-controlling influence in the\r\ngovernment of the\r\nuniverse.\r\n\r\n45. \u201cVenite, exultemus,\u201d (\u201cCome, let us rejoice\u201d) are the first\r\nwords of Psalm xcv. called the \u201cInvitatory.\u201d\r\n\r\n46. \u201cDomine Dominus noster:\u201d The opening words of Psalm\r\nviii.; \u201cO Lord our Lord.\u201d\r\n\r\n47. \u201cCoeli enarrant:\u201d Psalm xix. 1; \u201cThe heavens declare (thy\r\nglory).\u201d\r\n\r\n48. \u201cDomini est terra\u201d: Psalm xxiv. I; \u201cThe earth is the Lord\u2019s\r\nand the fulness thereof.\u201d The first \u201cnocturn\u201d is now over, and\r\nthe lessons from Scripture follow.\r\n\r\n49. \u201cJube, Domine:\u201d \u201cCommand, O Lord;\u201d from Matthew xiv.\r\n28, where Peter, seeing Christ walking on the water, says\r\n\u201cLord, if it be thou, bid me come to thee on the water.\u201d\r\n\r\n50: \u201cTu autem:\u201d the formula recited by the reader at the end of\r\neach lesson; \u201cTu autem, Domine, miserere nobis.\u201d (\u201cBut do\r\nthou, O Lord, have pity on us!\u201d)\r\n\r\n51. \u201cTe Deum Amoris:\u201d \u201cThee, God of Love (we praise).\u201d\r\n\r\n52. Not Tubal, who was the worker in metals; but Jubal, his\r\nbrother, \u201cwho was the father of all such as handle the harp and\r\norgan\u201d (Genesis iv. 21).\r\n\r\n53. \u201cDominus regnavit:\u201d  Psalm xciii. 1, \u201cThe Lord reigneth.\u201d\r\nWith this began the \u201cLaudes,\u201d or morning service of praise.\r\n\r\n54. \u201cJubilate:\u201d Psalm c. 1, \u201cMake a joyful noise unto the Lord.\u201d\r\n\r\n55. \u201cBenedicite:\u201d \u201cBless ye the Lord;\u201d the opening of the Song\r\nof the Three Children\r\n\r\n56. \u201cLaudate:\u201d Psalm cxlvii.; \u201cPraise ye the Lord.\u201d\r\n\r\n57. \u201cO admirabile:\u201d Psalm viii 1; \u201cO Lord our God, how\r\nexcellent is thy name.\u201d\r\n\r\n58. \u201cBenedictus\u201d: The first word of the Song of Zacharias\r\n(Luke i. 68); \u201cBlessed be the Lord God of Israel\u201d\r\n\r\n59. In The Knight\u2019s Tale we have exemplifications of the\r\ncustom of gathering and wearing flowers and branches on May\r\nDay; where Emily, \u201cdoing observance to May,\u201d goes into the\r\ngarden at sunrise and gathers flowers, \u201cparty white and red, to\r\nmake a sotel garland for her head\u201d; and again, where Arcite\r\nrides to the fields \u201cto make him a garland of the greves; were it\r\nof woodbine, or of hawthorn leaves\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE.\r\n\r\n\r\n[THE noble vindication of true love, as an exalting, purifying,\r\nand honour-conferring power, which Chaucer has made in \u201cThe\r\nCourt of Love,\u201d is repeated in \u201cThe Cuckoo and the\r\nNightingale.\u201d At the same time, the close of the poem leads up\r\nto \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls;\u201d for, on the appeal of the\r\nNightingale, the dispute between her and the Cuckoo, on the\r\nmerits and blessings of love, is referred to a parliament of birds,\r\nto be held on the morrow after Saint Valentine\u2019s Day. True, the\r\nassembly of the feathered tribes described by Chaucer, though\r\nheld on Saint Valentine\u2019s Day, and engaged in the discussion of\r\na controversy regarding love, is not occupied with the particular\r\ncause which in the present poem the Nightingale appeals to the\r\nparliament. But \u201cThe Cuckoo and the Nightingale\u201d none the less\r\nserves as a link between the two poems; indicating as it does the\r\nnature of those controversies, in matters subject to the supreme\r\ncontrol of the King and Queen of Love, which in the subsequent\r\npoem we find the courtiers, under the guise of birds, debating in\r\nfull conclave and under legal forms. Exceedingly simple in\r\nconception, and written in a metre full of musical irregularity\r\nand forcible freedom, \u201cThe Cuckoo and the Nightingale\u201d yields\r\nin vividness, delicacy, and grace to none of Chaucer\u2019s minor\r\npoems. We are told that the poet, on the third night of May, is\r\nsleepless, and rises early in the morning, to try if he may hear\r\nthe Nightingale sing. Wandering by a brook-side, he sits down\r\non the flowery lawn, and ere long, lulled by the sweet melody of\r\nmany birds and the well-according music of the stream, he falls\r\ninto a kind of doze \u2014 \u201cnot all asleep, nor fully waking.\u201d Then\r\n(an evil omen) he hears the Cuckoo sing before the Nightingale;\r\nbut soon he hears the Nightingale request the Cuckoo to\r\nremove far away, and leave the place to birds that can sing. The\r\nCuckoo enters into a defence of her song, which becomes a\r\nrailing accusation against Love and a recital of the miseries\r\nwhich Love\u2019s servants endure; the Nightingale vindicates Love\r\nin a lofty and tender strain, but is at last overcome with sorrow\r\nby the bitter words of the Cuckoo, and calls on the God of\r\nLove for help. On this the poet starts up, and, snatching a stone\r\nfrom the brook, throws it at the Cuckoo, who flies away full\r\nfast. The grateful Nightingale promises that, for this service, she\r\nwill be her champion\u2019s singer all that May; she warns him\r\nagainst believing the Cuckoo, the foe of Love; and then, having\r\nsung him one of her new songs, she flies away to all the other\r\nbirds that are in that dale, assembles them, and demands that\r\nthey should do her right upon the Cuckoo. By one assent it is\r\nagreed that a parliament shall be held, \u201cthe morrow after Saint\r\nValentine\u2019s Day,\u201d under a maple before the window of Queen\r\nPhilippa at Woodstock, when judgment shall be passed upon\r\nthe Cuckoo; then the Nightingale flies into a hawthorn, and\r\nsings a lay of love so loud that the poet awakes. The five-line\r\nstanza, of which the first, second, and fifth lines agree in one\r\nrhyme, the third and fourth in another, is peculiar to this poem;\r\nand while the prevailing measure is the decasyllabic line used in\r\nthe \u201cCanterbury Tales,\u201d many of the lines have one or two\r\nsyllables less. The poem is given here without abridgement.]\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was\r\nnot the author of this poem)\r\n\r\nTHE God of Love, ah! benedicite,\r\nHow mighty and how great a lord is he! <1>\r\nFor he can make of lowe heartes high,\r\nAnd of high low, and like for to die,\r\nAnd harde heartes he can make free.\r\n\r\nHe can make, within a little stound,*                            *moment\r\nOf sicke folke whole, and fresh, and sound,\r\nAnd of the whole he can make sick;\r\nHe can bind, and unbinden eke,\r\nWhat he will have bounden or unbound.\r\n\r\nTo tell his might my wit may not suffice;\r\nFor he can make of wise folk full nice,* \u2014                     *foolish\r\nFor he may do all that he will devise, \u2014\r\nAnd lither* folke to destroye vice,                       *idle, vicious\r\nAnd proude heartes he can make agrise.*                         *tremble\r\n\r\nShortly, all that ever he will he may;\r\nAgainst him dare no wight say nay;\r\nFor he can glad and grieve *whom him liketh.*          *whom he pleases*\r\nAnd who that he will, he laugheth or siketh,*                   *sigheth\r\nAnd most his might he sheddeth ever in May.\r\n\r\nFor every true gentle hearte free,\r\nThat with him is, or thinketh for to be,\r\nAgainst May now shall have some stirring,*                      *impulse\r\nEither to joy, or else to some mourning,\r\nIn no season so much, as thinketh me.\r\n\r\nFor when that they may hear the birdes sing,\r\nAnd see the flowers and the leaves spring,\r\nThat bringeth into hearte\u2019s remembrance\r\nA manner ease, *medled with grievance,*            *mingled with sorrow*\r\nAnd lusty thoughtes full of great longing.\r\n\r\nAnd of that longing cometh heaviness,\r\nAnd thereof groweth greate sickeness,\r\nAnd <2> for the lack of that that they desire:\r\nAnd thus in May be heartes set on fire,\r\nSo that they brennen* forth in great distress.                     *burn\r\n\r\nI speake this of feeling truely;\r\nIf I be old and unlusty,\r\nYet I have felt the sickness thorough May\r\n*Both hot and cold, an access ev\u2019ry day,*         *every day a hot and a\r\nHow sore, y-wis, there wot no wight but I.                     cold fit*\r\n\r\nI am so shaken with the fevers white,\r\nOf all this May sleep I but lite;*                               *little\r\nAnd also it is not like* unto me                               *pleasing\r\nThat any hearte shoulde sleepy be,\r\nIn whom that Love his fiery dart will smite,\r\n\r\nBut as I lay this other night waking,\r\nI thought how lovers had a tokening,*                      *significance\r\nAnd among them it was a common tale,\r\nThat it were good to hear the nightingale\r\nRather than the lewd cuckoo sing.\r\n\r\nAnd then I thought, anon* it was day,                          *whenever\r\nI would go somewhere to assay\r\nIf that I might a nightingale hear;\r\nFor yet had I none heard of all that year,\r\nAnd it was then the thirde night of May.\r\n\r\nAnd anon as I the day espied,\r\nNo longer would I in my bed abide;\r\nBut to a wood that was fast by,\r\nI went forth alone boldely,\r\nAnd held the way down by a brooke\u2019s side,\r\n\r\nTill I came to a laund* of white and green,                        *lawn\r\nSo fair a one had I never in been;\r\nThe ground was green, *y-powder\u2019d with daisy,*     *strewn with daisies*\r\nThe flowers and the *greves like high,*      *bushes of the same height*\r\nAll green and white; was nothing elles seen.\r\n\r\nThere sat I down among the faire flow\u2019rs,\r\nAnd saw the birdes trip out of their bow\u2019rs,\r\nThere as they rested them alle the night;\r\nThey were so joyful of the daye\u2019s light,\r\nThey began of May for to do honours.\r\n\r\nThey coud* that service all by rote;                               *knew\r\nThere was many a lovely note!\r\nSome sange loud as they had plain\u2019d,\r\nAnd some in other manner voice feign\u2019d,\r\nAnd some all out with the full throat.\r\n\r\nThey proined* them, and made them right gay,     *preened their feathers\r\nAnd danc\u2019d and leapt upon the spray;\r\nAnd evermore two and two in fere,*                             *together\r\nRight so as they had chosen them to-year*                     *this year\r\nIn Feverere* upon Saint Valentine\u2019s Day.                       *February\r\n\r\nAnd the river that I sat upon,*                                  *beside\r\nIt made such a noise as it ran,\r\nAccordant* with the birde\u2019s harmony,                  *keeping time with\r\nMe thought it was the beste melody\r\nThat might be heard of any man.\r\n\r\nAnd for delight, I wote never how,\r\nI fell in such a slumber and a swow, \u2014                           *swoon\r\nNot all asleep, nor fully waking, \u2014\r\nAnd in that swow me thought I hearde sing\r\nThe sorry bird, the lewd cuckow;\r\n\r\nAnd that was on a tree right faste by.\r\nBut who was then *evil apaid* but I?                       *dissatisfied\r\n\u201cNow God,\u201d quoth I, \u201cthat died on the crois,*                     *cross\r\nGive sorrow on thee, and on thy lewed voice!\r\nFull little joy have I now of thy cry.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd as I with the cuckoo thus gan chide,\r\nI heard, in the next bush beside,\r\nA nightingale so lustily sing,\r\nThat her clear voice she made ring\r\nThrough all the greenwood wide.\r\n\r\n\u201cAh, good Nightingale,\u201d quoth I then,\r\n\u201cA little hast thou been too long hen;*                   *hence, absent\r\nFor here hath been the lewd cuckow,\r\nAnd sung songs rather* than hast thou:                           *sooner\r\nI pray to God that evil fire her bren!\u201d*                           *burn\r\n\r\nBut now I will you tell a wondrous thing:\r\nAs long as I lay in that swooning,\r\nMe thought I wist what the birds meant,\r\nAnd what they said, and what was their intent\r\nAnd of their speech I hadde good knowing.\r\n\r\nThere heard I the nightingale say:\r\n\u201cNow, good Cuckoo, go somewhere away,\r\nAnd let us that can singe dwelle here;\r\nFor ev\u2019ry wight escheweth* thee to hear,                          *shuns\r\nThy songes be so elenge,* in good fay.\u201d**               *strange **faith\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat,\u201d quoth she, \u201cwhat may thee all now\r\nIt thinketh me, I sing as well as thou,\r\nFor my song is both true and plain,\r\nAlthough I cannot crakel* so in vain,                  *sing tremulously\r\nAs thou dost in thy throat, I wot ne\u2019er how.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd ev\u2019ry wight may understande me,\r\nBut, Nightingale, so may they not do thee,\r\nFor thou hast many a nice quaint* cry;                          *foolish\r\nI have thee heard say, \u2018ocy, ocy;\u2019 <3>\r\nHow might I know what that should be?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAh fool,\u201d quoth she, \u201cwost thou not what it is?\r\nWhen that I say, \u2018ocy, ocy,\u2019 y-wis,\r\nThen mean I that I woulde wonder fain\r\nThat all they were shamefully slain,                                *die\r\nThat meanen aught againe love amiss.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd also I would that all those were dead,\r\nThat thinke not in love their life to lead,\r\nFor who so will the god of Love not serve,\r\nI dare well say he is worthy to sterve,*                            *die\r\nAnd for that skill,* \u2018ocy, ocy,\u2019 I grede.\u201d**               *reason **cry\r\n\r\n\u201cEy!\u201d quoth the cuckoo, \u201cthis is a quaint* law,                 *strange\r\nThat every wight shall love or be to-draw!*              *torn to pieces\r\nBut I forsake alle such company;\r\nFor mine intent is not for to die,\r\nNor ever, while I live, *on Love\u2019s yoke to draw.*      *to put on love\u2019s\r\n                                                                   yoke*\r\n\u201cFor lovers be the folk that be alive,\r\nThat most disease have, and most unthrive,*                  *misfortune\r\nAnd most endure sorrow, woe, and care,\r\nAnd leaste feelen of welfare:\r\nWhat needeth it against the truth to strive?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat?\u201d quoth she, \u201cthou art all out of thy mind!\r\nHow mightest thou in thy churlishness find\r\nTo speak of Love\u2019s servants in this wise?\r\nFor in this world is none so good service\r\nTo ev\u2019ry wight that gentle is of kind;\r\n\r\n\u201cFor thereof truly cometh all gladness,\r\nAll honour and all gentleness,\r\nWorship, ease, and all hearte\u2019s lust,*                         *pleasure\r\nPerfect joy, and full assured trust,\r\nJollity, pleasance, and freshness,\r\n\r\n\u201cLowlihead, largess, and courtesy,\r\nSeemelihead, and true company,\r\nDread of shame for to do amiss;\r\nFor he that truly Love\u2019s servant is,\r\nWere lother* to be shamed than to die.                   *more reluctant\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd that this is sooth that I say,\r\nIn that belief I will live and dey;\r\nAnd, Cuckoo, so I rede* that thou, do y-wis.\u201d                   *counsel\r\n\u201cThen,\u201d quoth he, \u201clet me never have bliss,\r\nIf ever I to that counsail obey!\r\n\r\n\u201cNightingale, thou speakest wondrous fair,\r\nBut, for all that, is the sooth contrair;\r\nFor love is in young folk but rage,\r\nAnd in old folk a great dotage;\r\nWho most it useth, moste shall enpair.*                     *suffer harm\r\n\r\n\u201cFor thereof come disease and heaviness,\r\nSorrow and care, and many a great sickness,\r\nDespite, debate, anger, envy,\r\nDepraving,* shame, untrust, and jealousy,     *loss of fame or character\r\nPride, mischief, povert\u2019, and woodness.*                        *madness\r\n\r\n\u201cLoving is an office of despair,\r\nAnd one thing is therein that is not fair;\r\nFor who that gets of love a little bliss,\r\n*But if he be away therewith, y-wis,\r\nHe may full soon of age have his hair.*                   *see note <5>*\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, Nightingale, therefore hold thee nigh;\r\nFor, \u2019lieve me well, for all thy quainte cry,\r\nIf thou be far or longe from thy make,*                            *mate\r\nThou shalt be as other that be forsake,\r\nAnd then thou shalt hoten* as do I.\u201d                          *be called\r\n\r\n\u201cFie,\u201d quoth she, \u201con thy name and on thee!\r\nThe god of Love let thee never the!*                             *thrive\r\nFor thou art worse a thousand fold than wood,*                      *mad\r\nFor many one is full worthy and full good,\r\nThat had been naught, ne hadde Love y-be.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor evermore Love his servants amendeth,\r\nAnd from all evile taches* them defendeth,                    *blemishes\r\nAnd maketh them to burn right in a fire,\r\nIn truth and in worshipful* desire,                          *honourable\r\nAnd, when him liketh, joy enough them sendeth.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThou Nightingale,\u201d he said, \u201cbe still!\r\nFor Love hath no reason but his will;\r\nFor ofttime untrue folk he easeth,\r\nAnd true folk so bitterly displeaseth,\r\nThat for default of grace* he lets them spill.\u201d**    *favour **be ruined\r\n\r\nThen took I of the nightingale keep,\r\nHow she cast a sigh out of her deep,\r\nAnd said, \u201cAlas, that ever I was bore!\r\nI can for teen* not say one worde more;\u201d                *vexation, grief\r\nAnd right with that word she burst out to weep.\r\n\r\n\u201cAlas!\u201d quoth she, \u201cmy hearte will to-break\r\nTo heare thus this lewd bird speak\r\nOf Love, and of his worshipful service.\r\nNow, God of Love, thou help me in some wise,\r\nThat I may on this cuckoo be awreak!\u201d*                         *revenged\r\n\r\nMethought then I start up anon,\r\nAnd to the brook I ran and got a stone,\r\nAnd at the cuckoo heartly cast;\r\nAnd for dread he flew away full fast,\r\nAnd glad was I when he was gone.\r\n\r\nAnd evermore the cuckoo, as he flay,*                              *flew\r\nHe saide, \u201cFarewell, farewell, popinjay,\u201d\r\nAs though he had scorned, thought me;\r\nBut ay I hunted him from the tree,\r\nUntil he was far out of sight away.\r\n\r\nAnd then came the nightingale to me,\r\nAnd said, \u201cFriend, forsooth I thank thee\r\nThat thou hast lik\u2019d me to rescow;*                              *rescue\r\nAnd one avow to Love make I now,\r\nThat all this May I will thy singer be.\u201d\r\n\r\nI thanked her, and was right *well apaid:*                    *satisfied\r\n\u201cYea,\u201d quoth she, \u201cand be thou not dismay\u2019d,\r\nThough thou have heard the cuckoo *erst than* me; <6>            *before\r\nFor, if I live, it shall amended be\r\nThe next May, if I be not afraid.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd one thing I will rede* thee also,\r\nBelieve thou not the cuckoo, the love\u2019s foe,\r\nFor all that he hath said is strong leasing.\u201d*                *falsehood\r\n\u201cNay,\u201d quoth I, \u201cthereto shall nothing me bring\r\nFor love, and it hath done me much woe.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYea? Use,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthis medicine,\r\nEvery day this May ere thou dine:\r\nGo look upon the fresh daisy,\r\nAnd, though thou be for woe in point to die,\r\nThat shall full greatly less thee of thy pine.*                  *sorrow\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd look alway that thou be good and true,\r\nAnd I will sing one of my songes new\r\nFor love of thee, as loud as I may cry:\u201d\r\nAnd then she began this song full high:\r\n\u201cI shrew* all them that be of love untrue.\u201d                       *curse\r\n\r\nAnd when she had sung it to the end,\r\n\u201cNow farewell,\u201d quoth she, \u201cfor I must wend,*                        *go\r\n And, God of Love, that can right well and may,\r\nAs much joy sende thee this day,\r\nAs any lover yet he ever send!\u201d\r\n\r\nThus took the nightingale her leave of me.\r\nI pray to God alway with her be,\r\nAnd joy of love he send her evermore,\r\nAnd shield us from the cuckoo and his lore;\r\nFor there is not so false a bird as he.\r\n\r\nForth she flew, the gentle nightingale,\r\nTo all the birdes that were in that dale,\r\nAnd got them all into a place in fere,*                        *together\r\nAnd besought them that they would hear\r\nHer disease,* and thus began her tale.              *distress, grievance\r\n\r\n\u201cYe witte* well, it is not for to hide,                            *know\r\nHow the cuckoo and I fast have chide,*                       *quarrelled\r\nEver since that it was daylight;\r\nI pray you all that ye do me right\r\nOn that foul false unkind bride.\u201d*                                 *bird\r\n\r\nThen spake one bird for all, by one assent:\r\n\u201cThis matter asketh good advisement;\r\nFor we be fewe birdes here in fere,\r\nAnd sooth it is, the cuckoo is not here,\r\nAnd therefore we will have a parlement.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd thereat shall the eagle be our lord,\r\nAnd other peers that been *of record,*        *of established authority*\r\nAnd the cuckoo shall be *after sent;*                          *summoned\r\nThere shall be given the judgment,\r\nOr else we shall finally *make accord.*                  *be reconciled*\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd this shall be, withoute nay,*                        *contradiction\r\nThe morrow after Saint Valentine\u2019s Day,\r\nUnder a maple that is fair and green,\r\nBefore the chamber window of the Queen, <7>\r\nAt Woodstock upon the green lay.\u201d*                                 *lawn\r\n\r\nShe thanked them, and then her leave took,\r\nAnd into a hawthorn by that brook,\r\nAnd there she sat and sang upon that tree,\r\n*\u201cTerm of life love hath withhold me;\u201d*             *love hath me in her\r\nSo loude, that I with that song awoke.              service all my life*\r\n\r\nExplicit.*                                                      *The End\r\n\r\nThe Author to His Book.\r\n\r\nO LEWD book! with thy foul rudeness,\r\nSince thou hast neither beauty nor eloquence,\r\nWho hath thee caus\u2019d or giv\u2019n the hardiness\r\nFor to appear in my lady\u2019s presence?\r\nI am full sicker* thou know\u2019st her benevolence,                 *certain\r\nFull agreeable to all her abying,*                                *merit\r\nFor of all good she is the best living.\r\n\r\nAlas! that thou ne haddest worthiness,\r\nTo show to her some pleasant sentence,\r\nSince that she hath, thorough her gentleness,\r\nAccepted thee servant to her dign reverence!\r\nO! me repenteth that I n\u2019had science,\r\nAnd leisure als\u2019, t\u2019make thee more flourishing,\r\nFor of all good she is the best living.\r\n\r\nBeseech her meekly with all lowliness,\r\nThough I be ferre* from her in absence,                             *far\r\nTo think on my truth to her and steadfastness,\r\nAnd to abridge of my sorrows the violence,\r\nWhich caused is whereof knoweth your sapience;*                  *wisdom\r\nShe like among to notify me her liking,\r\nFor of all good she is the best living.\r\n\r\nExplicit.\r\n\r\nL\u2019Envoy; To the Author\u2019s Lady.\r\n\r\nAurore of gladness, day of lustiness,\r\nLucern* at night with heav\u2019nly influence                           *lamp\r\nIllumin\u2019d, root of beauty and goodness,\r\nSuspires* which I effund** in silence!               *sighs **pour forth\r\nOf grace I beseech, allege* let your writing                    *declare\r\nNow of all good, since ye be best living.\r\n\r\nExplicit.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Cuckoo and the Nightingale\r\n\r\n\r\n1. These two lines occur also in The Knight\u2019s Tale; they\r\ncommence the speech of Theseus on the love follies of Palamon\r\nand Arcite, whom the Duke has just found fighting in the forest.\r\n\r\n2. A stronger reading is \u201call.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. \u201cOcy, ocy,\u201d is supposed to come from the Latin \u201coccidere,\u201d\r\nto kill; or rather the old French, \u201coccire,\u201d \u201coccis,\u201d denoting the\r\ndoom which the nightingale imprecates or supplicates on all\r\nwho do offence to Love.\r\n\r\n4. Grede: cry; Italian, \u201cgrido.\u201d\r\n\r\n5.\u201dBut if he be away therewith, y-wis,\r\nHe may full soon of age have his hair\u201d:\r\nUnless he be always fortunate in love pursuits, he may full soon\r\nhave gray hair, through his anxieties.\r\n\r\n6. It was of evil omen to hear the cuckoo before the nightingale\r\nor any other bird.\r\n\r\n7. The Queen: Philippa of Hainault, wife of Edward III.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE ASSEMBLY OF FOWLS.\r\n\r\n\r\n[In \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls\u201d \u2014 which Chaucer\u2019s \u201cRetractation\u201d\r\ndescribes as \u201cThe Book of Saint Valentine\u2019s Day, or of the\r\nParliament of Birds\u201d \u2014 we are presented with a picture of the\r\nmediaeval \u201cCourt of Love\u201d far closer to the reality than we find\r\nin Chaucer\u2019s poem which bears that express title. We have a\r\nregularly constituted conclave or tribunal, under a president\r\nwhose decisions are final. A difficult question is proposed for\r\nthe consideration and judgment of the Court \u2014 the disputants\r\nadvancing and vindicating their claims in person. The attendants\r\nupon the Court, through specially chosen mouthpieces, deliver\r\ntheir opinions on the cause; and finally a decision is\r\nauthoritatively pronounced by the president \u2014 which, as in\r\nmany of the cases actually judged before the Courts of Love in\r\nFrance, places the reasonable and modest wish of a sensitive\r\nand chaste lady above all the eagerness of her lovers, all the\r\nincongruous counsels of representative courtiers. So far,\r\ntherefore, as the poem reproduces the characteristic features of\r\nprocedure in those romantic Middle Age halls of amatory\r\njustice, Chaucer\u2019s \u201cAssembly of Fowls\u201d is his real \u201cCourt of\r\nLove;\u201d for although, in the castle and among the courtiers of\r\nAdmetus and Alcestis, we have all the personages and\r\nmachinery necessary for one of those erotic contentions, in the\r\npresent poem we see the personages and the machinery actually\r\nat work, upon another scene and under other guises. The\r\nallegory which makes the contention arise out of the loves, and\r\nproceed in the assembly, of the feathered race, is quite in\r\nkeeping with the fanciful yet nature-loving spirit of the poetry\r\nof Chaucer\u2019s time, in which the influence of the Troubadours\r\nwas still largely present. It is quite in keeping, also, with the\r\nprinciples that regulated the Courts, the purpose of which was\r\nmore to discuss and determine the proper conduct of love\r\naffairs, than to secure conviction or acquittal, sanction or\r\nreprobation, in particular cases \u2014 though the jurisdiction and\r\nthe judgments of such assemblies often closely concerned\r\nindividuals. Chaucer introduces us to his main theme through\r\nthe vestibule of a fancied dream \u2014 a method which be\r\nrepeatedly employs with great relish, as for instance in \u201cThe\r\nHouse of Fame.\u201d He has spent the whole day over Cicero\u2019s\r\naccount of the Dream of Scipio (Africanus the Younger); and,\r\nhaving gone to bed, he dreams that Africanus the Elder appears\r\nto him \u2014 just as in the book he appeared to his namesake \u2014 and\r\ncarries him into a beautiful park, in which is a fair garden by a\r\nriver-side. Here the poet is led into a splendid temple, through a\r\ncrowd of courtiers allegorically representing the various\r\ninstruments, pleasures, emotions, and encouragements of Love;\r\nand in the temple Venus herself is found, sporting with her\r\nporter Richess. Returning into the garden, he sees the Goddess\r\nof Nature seated on a hill of flowers; and before her are\r\nassembled all the birds \u2014 for it is Saint Valentine\u2019s Day, when\r\nevery fowl chooses her mate. Having with a graphic touch\r\nenumerated and described the principal birds, the poet sees that\r\non her hand Nature bears a female eagle of surpassing loveliness\r\nand virtue, for which three male eagles advance contending\r\nclaims. The disputation lasts all day; and at evening the\r\nassembled birds, eager to be gone with their mates, clamour for\r\na decision. The tercelet, the goose, the cuckoo, and the turtle \u2014\r\nfor birds of prey, water-fowl, worm-fowl, and seed-fowl\r\nrespectively \u2014 pronounce their verdicts on the dispute, in\r\nspeeches full of character and humour; but Nature refers the\r\ndecision between the three claimants to the female eagle herself,\r\nwho prays that she may have a year\u2019s respite. Nature grants the\r\nprayer, pronounces judgment accordingly, and dismisses the\r\nassembly; and after a chosen choir has sung a roundel in honour\r\nof the Goddess, all the birds fly away, and the poet awakes. It is\r\nprobable that Chaucer derived the idea of the poem from a\r\nFrench source; Mr Bell gives the outline of a fabliau, of which\r\nthree versions existed, and in which a contention between two\r\nladies regarding the merits of their respective lovers, a knight\r\nand a clerk, is decided by Cupid in a Court composed of birds,\r\nwhich assume their sides according to their different natures.\r\nWhatever the source of the idea, its management, and the whole\r\nworkmanship of the poem, especially in the more humorous\r\npassages, are essentially Chaucer\u2019s own.]\r\n\r\nTHE life so short, the craft so long to learn,\r\nTh\u2019assay so hard, so sharp the conquering,\r\nThe dreadful joy, alway that *flits so yern;*           *fleets so fast*\r\nAll this mean I by* Love, that my feeling             *with reference to\r\nAstoneth* with his wonderful working,                            *amazes\r\nSo sore, y-wis, that, when I on him think,\r\nNaught wit I well whether I fleet* or sink,                       *float\r\n\r\nFor *all be* that I know not Love indeed,             *albeit, although*\r\nNor wot how that he *quiteth folk their hire,*         *rewards folk for\r\nYet happeth me full oft in books to read                  their service*\r\nOf his miracles, and of his cruel ire;\r\nThere read I well, he will be lord and sire;\r\nI dare not saye, that his strokes be sore;\r\nBut God save such a lord! I can no more.\r\n\r\nOf usage, what for lust and what for lore,\r\nOn bookes read I oft, as I you told.\r\nBut wherefore speak I alle this? Not yore\r\nAgone, it happed me for to behold\r\nUpon a book written with letters old;\r\nAnd thereupon, a certain thing to learn,\r\nThe longe day full fast I read and yern.*                       *eagerly\r\n\r\nFor out of the old fieldes, as men saith,\r\nCometh all this new corn, from year to year;\r\nAnd out of olde bookes, in good faith,\r\nCometh all this new science that men lear.*                       *learn\r\nBut now to purpose as of this mattere:\r\nTo reade forth it gan me so delight,\r\nThat all the day me thought it but a lite.*                *little while\r\n\r\nThis book, of which I make mention,\r\nEntitled was right thus, as I shall tell;\r\n\u201cTullius, of the Dream of Scipion:\u201d <1>\r\nChapters seven it had, of heav\u2019n, and hell,\r\nAnd earth, and soules that therein do dwell;\r\nOf which, as shortly as I can it treat,\r\nOf his sentence I will you say the great.*               *important part\r\n\r\nFirst telleth it, when Scipio was come\r\nTo Africa, how he met Massinisse,\r\nThat him for joy in armes hath y-nome.*                       *taken <2>\r\nThen telleth he their speech, and all the bliss\r\nThat was between them till the day gan miss.*                      *fail\r\nAnd how his ancestor Africane so dear\r\nGan in his sleep that night to him appear.\r\n\r\nThen telleth it, that from a starry place\r\nHow Africane hath him Carthage y-shew\u2019d,\r\nAnd warned him before of all his grace, <3>\r\nAnd said him, what man, learned either lewd,*                  *ignorant\r\nThat loveth *common profit,* well y-thew\u2019d,       *the public advantage*\r\nHe should unto a blissful place wend,*                               *go\r\nWhere as the joy is without any end.\r\n\r\nThen asked he,* if folk that here be dead       *i.e. the younger Scipio\r\nHave life, and dwelling, in another place?\r\nAnd Africane said, \u201cYea, withoute dread;\u201d*                        *doubt\r\nAnd how our present worldly lives\u2019 space\r\nMeant but a manner death, <4> what way we trace;\r\nAnd rightful folk should go, after they die,\r\nTo Heav\u2019n; and showed him the galaxy.\r\n\r\nThen show\u2019d he him the little earth that here is,\r\n*To regard* the heaven\u2019s quantity;                   *by comparison with\r\nAnd after show\u2019d he him the nine spheres; <5>\r\nAnd after that the melody heard he,\r\nThat cometh of those spheres thrice three,\r\nThat wells of music be and melody\r\nIn this world here, and cause of harmony.\r\n\r\nThen said he him, since earthe was so lite,*                      *small\r\nAnd full of torment and of *harde grace,*                  *evil fortune\r\nThat he should not him in this world delight.\r\nThen told he him, in certain yeares\u2019 space,\r\nThat ev\u2019ry star should come into his place,\r\nWhere it was first; and all should *out of mind,*   *perish from memory*\r\nThat in this world is done of all mankind.\r\n\r\nThen pray\u2019d him Scipio, to tell him all\r\nThe way to come into that Heaven\u2019s bliss;\r\nAnd he said: \u201cFirst know thyself immortal,\r\nAnd look aye busily that thou work and wiss*              *guide affairs\r\nTo common profit, and thou shalt not miss\r\nTo come swiftly unto that place dear,\r\nThat full of bliss is, and of soules clear.*                  *noble <6>\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd breakers of the law, the sooth to sayn,\r\nAnd likerous* folk, after that they be dead,                  *lecherous\r\nShall whirl about the world always in pain,\r\nTill many a world be passed, *out of dread;*             *without doubt*\r\nAnd then, forgiven all their wicked deed,\r\nThey shalle come unto that blissful place,\r\nTo which to come God thee sende grace!\u201d\r\n\r\nThe day gan failen, and the darke night,\r\nThat reaveth* beastes from their business,                  *taketh away\r\nBerefte me my book for lack of light,\r\nAnd to my bed I gan me for to dress,*                           *prepare\r\nFull fill\u2019d of thought and busy heaviness;\r\nFor both I hadde thing which that I n\u2019old,*                   *would not\r\nAnd eke I had not that thing that I wo\u2019ld.\r\n\r\nBut, finally, my spirit at the last,\r\nForweary* of my labour all that day,                    *utterly wearied\r\nTook rest, that made me to sleepe fast;\r\nAnd in my sleep I mette,* as that I say,                        *dreamed\r\nHow Africane, right in the *self array*                      *same garb*\r\nThat Scipio him saw before that tide,*                             *time\r\nWas come, and stood right at my bedde\u2019s side.\r\n\r\nThe weary hunter, sleeping in his bed,\r\nTo wood again his mind goeth anon;\r\nThe judge dreameth how his pleas be sped;\r\nThe carter dreameth how his cartes go\u2019n;\r\nThe rich of gold, the knight fights with his fone;*                *foes\r\nThe sicke mette he drinketh of the tun; <7>\r\nThe lover mette he hath his lady won.\r\n\r\nI cannot say, if that the cause were,\r\nFor* I had read of Africane beforn,                             *because\r\nThat made me to mette that he stood there;\r\nBut thus said he; \u201cThou hast thee so well borne\r\nIn looking of mine old book all to-torn,\r\nOf which Macrobius *raught not a lite,*            *recked not a little*\r\nThat *somedeal of thy labour would I quite.\u201d*    *I would reward you for\r\n                                                    some of your labour*\r\nCytherea, thou blissful Lady sweet!\r\nThat with thy firebrand dauntest *when thee lest,*     *when you please*\r\nThat madest me this sweven* for to mette,                         *dream\r\nBe thou my help in this, for thou may\u2019st best!\r\nAs wisly* as I saw the north-north-west, <8>                     *surely\r\nWhen I began my sweven for to write,\r\nSo give me might to rhyme it and endite.*                    *write down\r\n\r\nThis foresaid Africane me hent* anon,                              *took\r\nAnd forth with him unto a gate brought\r\nRight of a park, walled with greene stone;\r\nAnd o\u2019er the gate, with letters large y-wrought,\r\nThere were verses written, as me thought,\r\nOn either half, of full great difference,\r\nOf which I shall you say the plain sentence.*                   *meaning\r\n\r\n\u201cThrough me men go into the blissful place <9>\r\nOf hearte\u2019s heal and deadly woundes\u2019 cure;\r\nThrough me men go unto the well of grace;\r\nWhere green and lusty May shall ever dure;\r\nThis is the way to all good adventure;\r\nBe glad, thou reader, and thy sorrow off cast;\r\nAll open am I; pass in and speed thee fast.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThrough me men go,\u201d thus spake the other side,\r\n\u201cUnto the mortal strokes of the spear,\r\nOf which disdain and danger is the guide;\r\nThere never tree shall fruit nor leaves bear;\r\nThis stream you leadeth to the sorrowful weir,\r\nWhere as the fish in prison is all dry; <10>\r\nTh\u2019eschewing is the only remedy.\u201d\r\n\r\nThese verses of gold and azure written were,\r\nOn which I gan astonish\u2019d to behold;\r\nFor with that one increased all my fear,\r\nAnd with that other gan my heart to bold;*                 *take courage\r\nThat one me het,* that other did me cold;                        *heated\r\nNo wit had I, for error,* for to choose           *perplexity, confusion\r\nTo enter or fly, or me to save or lose.\r\n\r\nRight as betwixten adamantes* two                               *magnets\r\nOf even weight, a piece of iron set,\r\nNe hath no might to move to nor fro;\r\nFor what the one may hale,* the other let;**         *attract **restrain\r\nSo far\u2019d I, that *n\u2019ist whether me was bet*     *knew not whether it was\r\nT\u2019 enter or leave, till Africane, my guide,               better for me*\r\nMe hent* and shov\u2019d in at the gates wide.                        *caught\r\n\r\nAnd said, \u201cIt standeth written in thy face,\r\nThine error,* though thou tell it not to me;      *perplexity, confusion\r\nBut dread thou not to come into this place;\r\nFor this writing *is nothing meant by* thee,         *does not refer to*\r\nNor by none, but* he Love\u2019s servant be;                          *unless\r\nFor thou of Love hast lost thy taste, I guess,\r\nAs sick man hath of sweet and bitterness.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut natheless, although that thou be dull,\r\nThat thou canst not do, yet thou mayest see;\r\nFor many a man that may not stand a pull,\r\nYet likes it him at wrestling for to be,\r\nAnd deeme* whether he doth bet,** or he;                 *judge **better\r\nAnd, if thou haddest cunning* to endite,                          *skill\r\nI shall thee showe matter *of to write.\u201d*               *to write about*\r\n\r\nWith that my hand in his he took anon,\r\nOf which I comfort caught,* and went in fast.                      *took\r\nBut, Lord! so I was glad and  well-begone!*                   *fortunate\r\nFor *over all,* where I my eyen cast,                       *everywhere*\r\nWere trees y-clad with leaves that ay shall last,\r\nEach in his kind, with colour fresh and green\r\nAs emerald, that joy it was to see\u2019n.\r\n\r\nThe builder oak; and eke the hardy ash;\r\nThe pillar elm, the coffer unto carrain;\r\nThe box, pipe tree; the holm, to whippe\u2019s lash\r\nThe sailing fir; the cypress death to plain;\r\nThe shooter yew; the aspe for shaftes plain;\r\nTh\u2019olive of peace, and eke the drunken vine;\r\nThe victor palm; the laurel, too, divine. <11>\r\n\r\nA garden saw I, full of blossom\u2019d boughes,\r\nUpon a river, in a greene mead,\r\nWhere as sweetness evermore enow is,\r\nWith flowers white, blue, yellow, and red,\r\nAnd colde welle* streames, nothing dead,                       *fountain\r\nThat swamme full of smalle fishes light,\r\nWith finnes red, and scales silver bright.\r\n\r\nOn ev\u2019ry bough the birdes heard I sing,\r\nWith voice of angels in their harmony,\r\nThat busied them their birdes forth to bring;\r\nThe pretty conies* to their play gan hie;               *rabbits **haste\r\nAnd further all about I gan espy\r\nThe dreadful* roe, the buck, the hart, and hind,                  *timid\r\nSquirrels, and beastes small, of gentle kind.*                   *nature\r\n\r\nOf instruments of stringes in accord\r\nHeard I so play a ravishing sweetness,\r\nThat God, that Maker is of all and Lord,\r\nNe hearde never better, as I guess:\r\nTherewith a wind, unneth* it might be less,                    *scarcely\r\nMade in the leaves green a noise soft,\r\nAccordant* the fowles\u2019 song on loft.**          *in keeping with **above\r\n\r\nTh\u2019air of the place so attemper* was,                              *mild\r\nThat ne\u2019er was there grievance* of hot nor cold;              *annoyance\r\nThere was eke ev\u2019ry wholesome spice and grass,\r\nNor no man may there waxe sick nor old:\r\nYet* was there more joy a thousand fold                        *moreover\r\nThan I can tell, or ever could or might;\r\nThere ever is clear day, and never night.\r\n\r\nUnder a tree, beside a well, I sey*                                 *saw\r\nCupid our lord his arrows forge and file;*                       *polish\r\nAnd at his feet his bow all ready lay;\r\nAnd well his daughter temper\u2019d, all the while,\r\nThe heades in the well; and with her wile*                   *cleverness\r\nShe couch\u2019d* them after, as they shoulde serve        *arranged in order\r\nSome for to slay, and some to wound and kerve.*              *carve, cut\r\n\r\nThen was I ware of Pleasance anon right,\r\nAnd of Array, and Lust, and Courtesy,\r\nAnd of the Craft, that can and hath the might\r\nTo do* by force a wight to do folly;                               *make\r\nDisfigured* was she, I will not lie;                          *disguised\r\nAnd by himself, under an oak, I guess,\r\nSaw I Delight, that stood with Gentleness.\r\n\r\nThen saw I Beauty, with a nice attire,\r\nAnd Youthe, full of game and jollity,\r\nFoolhardiness, Flattery, and Desire,\r\nMessagerie, and Meed, and other three; <12>\r\nTheir names shall not here be told for me:\r\nAnd upon pillars great of jasper long\r\nI saw a temple of brass y-founded strong.\r\n\r\nAnd [all] about the temple danc\u2019d alway\r\nWomen enough, of whiche some there were\r\nFair of themselves, and some of them were gay\r\nIn kirtles* all dishevell\u2019d went they there;                     *tunics\r\nThat was their office* ever, from year to year;        *duty, occupation\r\nAnd on the temple saw I, white and fair,\r\nOf doves sitting many a thousand pair. <13>\r\n\r\nBefore the temple door, full soberly,\r\nDame Peace sat, a curtain in her hand;\r\nAnd her beside, wonder discreetely,\r\nDame Patience sitting there I fand,*                              *found\r\nWith face pale, upon a hill of sand;\r\nAnd althernext, within and eke without,\r\nBehest,* and Art, and of their folk a rout.**           *Promise **crowd\r\n\r\nWithin the temple, of sighes hot as fire\r\nI heard a swough,* that gan aboute ren,**                  *murmur **run\r\nWhich sighes were engender\u2019d with desire,\r\nThat made every hearte for to bren*                                *burn\r\nOf newe flame; and well espied I then,\r\nThat all the cause of sorrows that they dree*                    *endure\r\nCame of the bitter goddess Jealousy.\r\n\r\nThe God Priapus <14> saw I, as I went\r\nWithin the temple, in sov\u2019reign place stand,\r\nIn such array, as when the ass him shent* <15>                   *ruined\r\nWith cry by night, and with sceptre in hand:\r\nFull busily men gan assay and fand*                           *endeavour\r\nUpon his head to set, of sundry hue,\r\nGarlandes full of freshe flowers new.\r\n\r\nAnd in a privy corner, in disport,\r\nFound I Venus and her porter Richess,\r\nThat was full noble and hautain* of her port;              *haughty <16>\r\nDark was that place, but afterward lightness\r\nI saw a little, unneth* it might be less;                      *scarcely\r\nAnd on a bed of gold she lay to rest,\r\nTill that the hote sun began to west.*         *decline towards the wesr\r\n\r\nHer gilded haires with a golden thread\r\nY-bounden were, untressed,* as she lay;                           *loose\r\nAnd naked from the breast unto the head\r\nMen might her see; and, soothly for to say,\r\nThe remnant cover\u2019d, welle to my pay,*                *satisfaction <17>\r\nRight with a little kerchief of Valence;<18>\r\nThere was no thicker clothe of defence.\r\n\r\nThe place gave a thousand savours swoot;*                         *sweet\r\nAnd Bacchus, god of wine, sat her beside;\r\nAnd Ceres next, that *doth of hunger boot;*<19>        *relieves hunger*\r\nAnd, as I said, amiddes* lay Cypride, <20>                 *in the midst\r\nTo whom on knees the younge folke cried\r\nTo be their help: but thus I let her lie,\r\nAnd farther in the temple gan espy,\r\n\r\n<See note 21 for the stories of the lovers in\r\nthe next two stanzas>\r\n\r\nThat, in despite of Diana the chaste,\r\nFull many a bowe broke hung on the wall,\r\nOf maidens, such as go their time to waste\r\nIn her service: and painted over all\r\nOf many a story, of which I touche shall\r\nA few, as of Calist\u2019, and Atalant\u2019,\r\nAnd many a maid, of which the name I want.*                 *do not have\r\n\r\nSemiramis, Canace, and Hercules,\r\nBiblis, Dido, Thisbe and Pyramus,\r\nTristram, Isoude, Paris, and Achilles,\r\nHelena, Cleopatra, Troilus,\r\nScylla, and eke the mother of Romulus;\r\nAll these were painted on the other side,\r\nAnd all their love, and in what plight they died.\r\n\r\nWhen I was come again into the place\r\nThat I of spake, that was so sweet and green,\r\nForth walk\u2019d I then, myselfe to solace:\r\nThen was I ware where there sat a queen,\r\nThat, as of light the summer Sunne sheen\r\nPasseth the star, right so *over measure*        *out of all proportion*\r\nShe fairer was than any creature.\r\n\r\nAnd in a lawn, upon a hill of flowers,\r\nWas set this noble goddess of Nature;\r\nOf branches were her halles and her bowers\r\nY-wrought, after her craft and her measure;\r\nNor was there fowl that comes of engendrure\r\nThat there ne were prest,* in her presence,                  *ready <22>\r\nTo *take her doom,* and give her audience.        *receive her decision*\r\n\r\nFor this was on Saint Valentine\u2019s Day,\r\nWhen ev\u2019ry fowl cometh to choose her make,*                        *mate\r\nOf every kind that men thinken may;\r\nAnd then so huge a noise gan they make,\r\nThat earth, and sea, and tree, and ev\u2019ry lake,\r\nSo full was, that unnethes* there was space                    *scarcely\r\nFor me to stand, so full was all the place.\r\n\r\nAnd right as Alain, in his Plaint of Kind, <23>\r\nDeviseth* Nature of such array and face;                     *describeth\r\nIn such array men mighte her there find.\r\nThis noble Emperess, full of all grace,\r\nBade ev\u2019ry fowle take her owen place,\r\nAs they were wont alway, from year to year,\r\nOn Saint Valentine\u2019s Day to stande there.\r\n\r\nThat is to say, the *fowles of ravine*                   *birds of prey*\r\nWere highest set, and then the fowles smale,\r\nThat eaten as them Nature would incline;\r\nAs worme-fowl, of which I tell no tale;\r\nBut waterfowl sat lowest in the dale,\r\nAnd fowls that live by seed sat on the green,\r\nAnd that so many, that wonder was to see\u2019n.\r\n\r\nThere mighte men the royal eagle find,\r\nThat with his sharpe look pierceth the Sun;\r\nAnd other eagles of a lower kind,\r\nOf which that *clerkes well devise con;*            *which scholars well\r\nThere was the tyrant with his feathers dun                 can describe*\r\nAnd green, I mean the goshawk, that doth pine*               *cause pain\r\nTo birds, for his outrageous ravine.*                  *slaying, hunting\r\n\r\nThe gentle falcon, that with his feet distraineth*               *grasps\r\nThe kinge\u2019s hand; <24> the hardy* sperhawk eke,                    *pert\r\nThe quaile\u2019s foe; the merlion <25> that paineth\r\nHimself full oft the larke for to seek;\r\nThere was the dove, with her eyen meek;\r\nThe jealous swan, against* his death that singeth;   *in anticipation of\r\nThe owl eke, that of death the bode* bringeth.                     *omen\r\n\r\nThe crane, the giant, with his trumpet soun\u2019;\r\nThe thief the chough; and eke the chatt\u2019ring pie;\r\nThe scorning jay; <26> the eel\u2019s foe the heroun;\r\nThe false lapwing, full of treachery; <27>\r\nThe starling, that the counsel can betray;\r\nThe tame ruddock,* and the coward kite;                 *robin-redbreast\r\nThe cock, that horologe* is of *thorpes lite.*  *clock *little villages*\r\n\r\nThe sparrow, Venus\u2019 son; <28> the nightingale,\r\nThat calleth forth the freshe leaves new; <29>\r\nThe swallow, murd\u2019rer of the bees smale,\r\nThat honey make of flowers fresh of hue;\r\nThe wedded turtle, with his hearte true;\r\nThe peacock, with his angel feathers bright; <30>\r\nThe pheasant, scorner of the cock by night; <31>\r\n\r\nThe waker goose; <32> the cuckoo ever unkind; <33>\r\nThe popinjay,* full of delicacy;                                 *parrot\r\nThe drake, destroyer of his owen kind; <34>\r\nThe stork, the wreaker* of adultery; <35>                       *avenger\r\nThe hot cormorant, full of gluttony; <36>\r\nThe raven and the crow, with voice of care; <37>\r\nThe throstle old;* and the frosty fieldfare.<38>             *long-lived\r\n\r\nWhat should I say? Of fowls of ev\u2019ry kind\r\nThat in this world have feathers and stature,\r\nMen mighten in that place assembled find,\r\nBefore that noble goddess of Nature;\r\nAnd each of them did all his busy cure*                     *care, pains\r\nBenignely to choose, or for to take,\r\nBy her accord,* his formel <39> or his make.**           *consent **mate\r\n\r\nBut to the point. Nature held on her hand\r\nA formel eagle, of shape the gentilest\r\nThat ever she among her workes fand,\r\nThe most benign, and eke the goodliest;\r\nIn her was ev\u2019ry virtue at its rest,*                     *highest point\r\nSo farforth that Nature herself had bliss\r\nTo look on her, and oft her beak to kiss.\r\n\r\nNature, the vicar of th\u2019Almighty Lord, \u2014\r\nThat hot, cold, heavy, light, and moist, and dry,\r\nHath knit, by even number of accord, \u2014\r\nIn easy voice began to speak, and say:\r\n\u201cFowles, take heed of my sentence,\u201d* I pray;         *opinion, discourse\r\nAnd for your ease, in furth\u2019ring of your need,\r\nAs far as I may speak, I will me speed.\r\n\r\n\u201cYe know well how, on Saint Valentine\u2019s Day,\r\nBy my statute, and through my governance,\r\nYe choose your mates, and after fly away\r\nWith them, as I you *pricke with pleasance;*     *inspire with pleasure*\r\nBut natheless, as by rightful ordinance,\r\nMay I not let,* for all this world to win,                       *hinder\r\nBut he that most is worthy shall begin.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe tercel eagle, as ye know full weel,*                          *well\r\nThe fowl royal, above you all in degree,\r\nThe wise and worthy, secret, true as steel,\r\nThe which I formed have, as ye may see,\r\nIn ev\u2019ry part, as it best liketh me, \u2014\r\nIt needeth not his shape you to devise,* \u2014                    *describe\r\nHe shall first choose, and speaken *in his guise.*      *in his own way*\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, after him, by order shall ye choose,\r\nAfter your kind, evereach as you liketh;\r\nAnd as your hap* is, shall ye win or lose;                      *fortune\r\nBut which of you that love most entriketh,*              *entangles <40>\r\nGod send him her that sorest for him siketh.\u201d*                  *sigheth\r\nAnd therewithal the tercel gan she call,\r\nAnd said, \u201cMy son, the choice is to thee fall.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut natheless, in this condition\r\nMust be the choice of ev\u2019reach that is here,\r\nThat she agree to his election,\r\nWhoso he be, that shoulde be her fere;*                       *companion\r\nThis is our usage ay, from year to year;\r\nAnd whoso may at this time have this grace,\r\n*In blissful time* he came into this place.\u201d           *in a happy hour*\r\nWith head inclin\u2019d, and with full humble cheer,*              *demeanour\r\n\r\nThis royal tercel spake, and tarried not:\r\n\u201cUnto my sov\u2019reign lady, and not my fere,*                    *companion\r\nI chose and choose, with will, and heart, and thought,\r\nThe formel on your hand, so well y-wrought,\r\nWhose I am all, and ever will her serve,\r\nDo what her list, to do me live or sterve.*                         *die\r\n\r\n\u201cBeseeching her of mercy and of grace,\r\nAs she that is my lady sovereign,\r\nOr let me die here present in this place,\r\nFor certes long may I not live in pain;\r\n*For in my heart is carven ev\u2019ry vein:*       *every vein in my heart is\r\nHaving regard only unto my truth,                     wounded with love*\r\nMy deare heart, have on my woe some ruth.*                         *pity\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd if that I be found to her untrue,\r\nDisobeisant,* or wilful negligent,                          *disobedient\r\nAvaunter,* or *in process* love a new,         *braggart  *in the course\r\nI pray to you, this be my judgement,                            of time*\r\nThat with these fowles I be all to-rent,*                *torn to pieces\r\nThat ilke* day that she me ever find                               *same\r\nTo her untrue, or in my guilt unkind.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd since none loveth her so well as I,\r\nAlthough she never of love me behet,*                          *promised\r\nThen ought she to be mine, through her mercy;\r\nFor *other bond can I none on her knit;*   *I can bind her no other way*\r\nFor weal or for woe, never shall I let*                     *cease, fail\r\nTo serve her, how far so that she wend;*                             *go\r\nSay what you list, my tale is at an end.\u201d\r\n\r\nRight as the freshe redde rose new\r\nAgainst the summer Sunne colour\u2019d is,\r\nRight so, for shame, all waxen gan the hue\r\nOf this formel, when she had heard all this;\r\n*Neither she answer\u2019d well, nor said amiss,*      *she answered nothing,\r\nSo sore abashed was she, till Nature                 either well or ill*\r\nSaid, \u201cDaughter, dread you not, I you assure.\u201d*        *confirm, support\r\n\r\nAnother tercel eagle spake anon,\r\nOf lower kind, and said that should not be;\r\n\u201cI love her better than ye do, by Saint John!\r\nOr at the least I love her as well as ye,\r\nAnd longer have her serv\u2019d in my degree;\r\nAnd if she should have lov\u2019d for long loving,\r\nTo me alone had been the guerdoning.*                            *reward\r\n\r\n\u201cI dare eke say, if she me finde false,\r\nUnkind, janglere,* rebel in any wise,                          *boastful\r\nOr jealous, *do me hange by the halse;*            *hang me by the neck*\r\nAnd but* I beare me in her service                               *unless\r\nAs well ay as my wit can me suffice,\r\nFrom point to point, her honour for to save,\r\nTake she my life and all the good I have.\u201d\r\n\r\nA thirde tercel eagle answer\u2019d tho:*                               *then\r\n\u201cNow, Sirs, ye see the little leisure here;\r\nFor ev\u2019ry fowl cries out to be ago\r\nForth with his mate, or with his lady dear;\r\nAnd eke Nature herselfe will not hear,\r\nFor tarrying her, not half that I would say;\r\nAnd but* I speak, I must for sorrow dey.**                 *unless **die\r\n\r\nOf long service avaunt* I me no thing,                            *boast\r\nBut as possible is me to die to-day,\r\nFor woe, as he that hath been languishing\r\nThis twenty winter; and well happen may\r\nA man may serve better, and *more to pay,*      *with more satisfaction*\r\nIn half a year, although it were no more.\r\nThan some man doth that served hath *full yore.*       *for a long time*\r\n\r\n\u201cI say not this by me for that I can\r\nDo no service that may my lady please;\r\nBut I dare say, I am her truest man,*                 *liegeman, servant\r\n*As to my doom,* and fainest would her please;          *in my judgement\r\n*At shorte words,* until that death me seize,              *in one word*\r\nI will be hers, whether I wake or wink.\r\nAnd true in all that hearte may bethink.\u201d\r\n\r\nOf all my life, since that day I was born,\r\n*So gentle plea,* in love or other thing,          *such noble pleading*\r\nYe hearde never no man me beforn;\r\nWhoso that hadde leisure and cunning*                             *skill\r\nFor to rehearse their cheer and their speaking:\r\nAnd from the morrow gan these speeches last,\r\nTill downward went the Sunne wonder fast.\r\n\r\nThe noise of fowles for to be deliver\u2019d*             *set free to depart\r\nSo loude rang, \u201cHave done and let us wend,\u201d*                         *go\r\nThat well ween\u2019d I the wood had all to-shiver\u2019d:*        *been shaken to\r\n\u201cCome off!\u201d they cried; \u201calas! ye will us shend!*          pieces* *ruin\r\nWhen will your cursed pleading have an end?\r\nHow should a judge either party believe,\r\nFor yea or nay, withouten any preve?\u201d*                            *proof\r\n\r\nThe goose, the duck, and the cuckoo also,\r\nSo cried \u201ckeke, keke,\u201d \u201ccuckoo,\u201d \u201cqueke queke,\u201d high,\r\nThat through mine ears the noise wente tho.*                       *then\r\nThe goose said then, \u201cAll this n\u2019is worth a fly!\r\nBut I can shape hereof a remedy;\r\nAnd I will say my verdict, fair and swith,*                    *speedily\r\nFor water-fowl, whoso be wroth or blith.\u201d*                         *glad\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd I for worm-fowl,\u201d said the fool cuckow;\r\nFor I will, of mine own authority,\r\nFor common speed,* take on me the charge now;                 *advantage\r\nFor to deliver us is great charity.\u201d\r\n\u201cYe may abide a while yet, pardie,\u201d*                             *by God\r\nQuoth then the turtle; \u201cif it be your will\r\nA wight may speak, it were as good be still.\r\n\r\n\u201cI am a seed-fowl, one th\u2019unworthiest,\r\nThat know I well, and the least of cunning;\r\nBut better is, that a wight\u2019s tongue rest,\r\nThan *entremette him of* such doing                   *meddle with* <41>\r\nOf which he neither rede* can nor sing;                         *counsel\r\nAnd who it doth, full foul himself accloyeth,*             *embarrasseth\r\nFor office uncommanded oft annoyeth.\u201d\r\n\r\nNature, which that alway had an ear\r\nTo murmur of the lewedness behind,\r\nWith facond* voice said, \u201cHold your tongues there,     *eloquent, fluent\r\nAnd I shall soon, I hope, a counsel find,\r\nYou to deliver, and from this noise unbind;\r\nI charge of ev\u2019ry flock* ye shall one call,               *class of fowl\r\nTo say the verdict of you fowles all.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe tercelet* said then in this mannere;                      *male hawk\r\n\u201cFull hard it were to prove it by reason,\r\nWho loveth best this gentle formel here;\r\nFor ev\u2019reach hath such replication,*                              *reply\r\nThat by skilles* may none be brought adown;                   *arguments\r\nI cannot see that arguments avail;\r\nThen seemeth it that there must be battaile.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAll ready!\u201d quoth those eagle tercels tho;*                       *then\r\n\u201cNay, Sirs!\u201d quoth he; \u201cif that I durst it say,\r\nYe do me wrong, my tale is not y-do,*                              *done\r\nFor, Sirs, \u2014 and *take it not agrief,* I pray, \u2014     *be not offended*\r\nIt may not be as ye would, in this way:\r\nOurs is the voice that have the charge in hand,\r\nAnd *to the judges\u2019 doom ye muste stand.*          *ye must abide by the\r\n                                                       judges\u2019 decision*\r\n\u201cAnd therefore \u2018Peace!\u2019 I say; as to my wit,\r\nMe woulde think, how that the worthiest\r\nOf knighthood, and had longest used it,\r\nMost of estate, of blood the gentilest,\r\nWere fitting most for her, *if that her lest;*          *if she pleased*\r\nAnd, of these three she knows herself, I trow,*                 *am sure\r\nWhich that he be; for it is light* to know.\u201d                       *easy\r\n\r\nThe water-fowles have their heades laid\r\nTogether, and *of short advisement,*          *after brief deliberation*\r\nWhen evereach his verdict had y-said\r\nThey saide soothly all by one assent,\r\nHow that \u201cThe goose with the *facond gent,*          *refined eloquence*\r\nThat so desired to pronounce our need,*                         business\r\nShall tell our tale;\u201d and prayed God her speed.\r\n\r\nAnd for those water-fowles then began\r\nThe goose to speak. and in her cackeling\r\nShe saide, \u201cPeace, now! take keep* ev\u2019ry man,                      *heed\r\nAnd hearken what reason I shall forth bring;\r\nMy wit is sharp, I love no tarrying;\r\nI say I rede him, though he were my brother,\r\nBut* she will love him, let him love another!\u201d                   *unless\r\n\r\n\u201cLo! here a perfect reason of a goose!\u201d\r\nQuoth the sperhawke.  \u201cNever may she the!*                       *thrive\r\nLo such a thing \u2019tis t\u2019have a tongue loose!\r\nNow, pardie: fool, yet were it bet* for thee                     *better\r\nHave held thy peace, than show\u2019d thy nicety;*               *foolishness\r\nIt lies not in his wit, nor in his will,\r\nBut sooth is said, a fool cannot be still.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe laughter rose of gentle fowles all;\r\nAnd right anon the seed-fowls chosen had\r\nThe turtle true, and gan her to them call,\r\nAnd prayed her to say the *soothe sad*                   *serious truth*\r\nOf this mattere, and asked what she rad;*                    *counselled\r\nAnd she answer\u2019d, that plainly her intent\r\nShe woulde show, and soothly what she meant.\r\n\r\n\u201cNay! God forbid a lover shoulde change!\u201d\r\nThe turtle said, and wax\u2019d for shame all red:\r\n\u201cThough that his lady evermore be strange,*                  *disdainful\r\nYet let him serve her ay, till he be dead;\r\nFor, sooth, I praise not the goose\u2019s rede*                      *counsel\r\nFor, though she died, I would none other make;*                    *mate\r\nI will be hers till that the death me take.\u201d\r\n\r\n*\u201cWell bourded!\u201d* quoth the ducke, \u201cby my hat!          *a pretty joke!*\r\nThat men should loven alway causeless,\r\nWho can a reason find, or wit, in that?\r\nDanceth he merry, that is mirtheless?\r\nWho shoulde *reck of that is reckeless?*           *care for one who has\r\nYea! queke yet,\u201d quoth the duck, \u201cfull well and fair!   no care for him*\r\nThere be more starres, God wot, than a pair!\u201d  <42>\r\n\r\n\u201cNow fy, churl!\u201d quoth the gentle tercelet,\r\n\u201cOut of the dunghill came that word aright;\r\nThou canst not see which thing is well beset;\r\nThou far\u2019st by love, as owles do by light,\u2014\r\nThe day them blinds, full well they see by night;\r\nThy kind is of so low a wretchedness,\r\nThat what love is, thou caust not see nor guess.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen gan the cuckoo put him forth in press,*               *in the crowd\r\nFor fowl that eateth worm, and said belive:*                    *quickly\r\n\u201cSo I,\u201d quoth he, \u201cmay have my mate in peace,\r\nI recke not how longe that they strive.\r\nLet each of them be solain* all their life;                 *single <43>\r\nThis is my rede,* since they may not accord;                    *counsel\r\nThis shorte lesson needeth not record.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYea, have the glutton fill\u2019d enough his paunch,\r\nThen are we well!\u201d saide the emerlon;*                           *merlin\r\n\u201cThou murd\u2019rer of the heggsugg,* on the branch            *hedge-sparrow\r\nThat brought thee forth, thou most rueful glutton, <44>\r\nLive thou solain, worme\u2019s corruption!\r\n*For no force is to lack of thy nature;*     *the loss of a bird of your\r\nGo! lewed be thou, while the world may dare!\u201d      depraved nature is no\r\n                                                      matter of regret.*\r\n\u201cNow peace,\u201d quoth Nature, \u201cI commande here;\r\nFor I have heard all your opinion,\r\nAnd in effect yet be we ne\u2019er the nere.*                         *nearer\r\nBut, finally, this is my conclusion, \u2014\r\nThat she herself shall have her election\r\nOf whom her list, whoso be *wroth or blith;*             *angry or glad*\r\nHim that she chooseth, he shall her have as swith.*             *quickly\r\n\r\n\u201cFor since it may not here discussed be\r\nWho loves her best, as said the tercelet,\r\nThen will I do this favour t\u2019 her, that she\r\nShall have right him on whom her heart is set,\r\nAnd he her, that his heart hath on her knit:\r\nThis judge I, Nature, for* I may not lie                        *because\r\nTo none estate; I *have none other eye.*          *can see the matter in\r\n                                                         no other light*\r\n\u201cBut as for counsel for to choose a make,\r\nIf I were Reason, [certes] then would I\r\nCounsaile you the royal tercel take,\r\nAs saith the tercelet full skilfully,*                       *reasonably\r\nAs for the gentilest, and most worthy,\r\nWhich I have wrought so well to my pleasance,\r\nThat to you it ought be *a suffisance.\u201d*          *to your satisfaction*\r\n\r\nWith dreadful* voice the formel her answer\u2019d:                *frightened\r\n\u201cMy rightful lady, goddess of Nature,\r\nSooth is, that I am ever under your yerd,*           *rod, or government\r\nAs is every other creature,\r\nAnd must be yours, while that my life may dure;\r\nAnd therefore grante me my firste boon,*                         *favour\r\nAnd mine intent you will I say right soon.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI grant it you,\u201d said she; and right anon\r\nThis formel eagle spake in this degree:*                         *manner\r\n\u201cAlmighty queen, until this year be done\r\nI aske respite to advise me;\r\nAnd after that to have my choice all free;\r\nThis is all and some that I would speak and say;\r\nYe get no more, although ye *do me dey.*                       *slay me*\r\n\r\n\u201cI will not serve Venus, nor Cupide,\r\nFor sooth as yet, by no manner [of] way.\u201d\r\n\u201cNow since it may none other ways betide,\u201d*                      *happen\r\nQuoth Dame Nature, \u201cthere is no more to say;\r\nThen would I that these fowles were away,\r\nEach with his mate, for longer tarrying here.\u201d\r\nAnd said them thus, as ye shall after hear.\r\n\r\n\u201cTo you speak I, ye tercels,\u201d quoth Nature;\r\n\u201cBe of good heart, and serve her alle three;\r\nA year is not so longe to endure;\r\nAnd each of you *pain him* in his degree                        *strive*\r\nFor to do well, for, God wot, quit is she\r\nFrom you this year, what after so befall;\r\nThis *entremess is dressed* for you all.\u201d             *dish is prepared*\r\n\r\nAnd when this work y-brought was to an end,\r\nTo ev\u2019ry fowle Nature gave his make,\r\nBy *even accord,* and on their way they wend:           *fair agreement*\r\nAnd, Lord! the bliss and joye that they make!\r\nFor each of them gan other in his wings take,\r\nAnd with their neckes each gan other wind,*              *enfold, caress\r\nThanking alway the noble goddess of Kind.\r\n\r\nBut first were chosen fowles for to sing,\u2014\r\nAs year by year was alway their usance,* \u2014                      *custom\r\nTo sing a roundel at their departing,\r\nTo do to Nature honour and pleasance;\r\nThe note, I trowe, maked was in France;\r\nThe wordes were such as ye may here find\r\nThe nexte verse, as I have now in mind:\r\n\r\nQui bien aime, tard oublie. <45>\r\n\r\n\u201cNow welcome summer, with thy sunnes soft,\r\nThat hast these winter weathers overshake *         *dispersed, overcome\r\nSaint Valentine, thou art full high on loft,\r\nWhich driv\u2019st away the longe nightes blake;*                      *black\r\nThus singe smalle fowles for thy sake:\r\nWell have they cause for to gladden* oft,           *be glad, make mirth\r\nSince each of them recover\u2019d hath his make;*                       *mate\r\nFull blissful may they sing when they awake.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with the shouting, when their song was do,*                    *done\r\nThat the fowls maden at their flight away,\r\nI woke, and other bookes took me to,\r\nTo read upon; and yet I read alway.\r\nI hope, y-wis, to reade so some day,\r\nThat I shall meete something for to fare\r\nThe bet;* and thus to read I will not spare.                     *better\r\n\r\nExplicit.*                                                      *the end\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The Assembly of Fowls\r\n\r\n\r\n1. \u201cThe Dream of Scipio\u201d \u2014 \u201cSomnium Scipionis\u201d \u2014 occupies\r\nmost of the sixth book of Cicero\u2019s \u201cRepublic;\u201d which, indeed, as\r\nit has come down to us, is otherwise imperfect. Scipio\r\nAfricanus Minor is represented as relating a dream which he had\r\nwhen, in B.C. 149, he went to Africa as military tribune to the\r\nfourth legion. He had talked long and earnestly of his adoptive\r\ngrandfather with Massinissa, King of Numidia, the intimate\r\nfriend of the great Scipio; and at night his illustrious ancestor\r\nappeared to him in a vision, foretold the overthrow of Carthage\r\nand all his other triumphs, exhorted him to virtue and patriotism\r\nby the assurance of rewards in the next world, and discoursed\r\nto him concerning the future state and the immortality of the\r\nsoul. Macrobius, about AD. 500, wrote a Commentary upon the\r\n\u201cSomnium Scipionis,\u201d which was a favourite book in the Middle\r\nAges. See note 17 to The Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n2. Y-nome: taken; past participle of \u201cnime,\u201d from Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cniman,\u201d to take.\r\n\r\n3. His grace: the favour which the gods would show him, in\r\ndelivering Carthage into his hands.\r\n\r\n4. \u201cVestra vero, quae dicitur, vita mors est.\u201d (\u201cTruly, as is said,\r\nyour life is a death\u201d)\r\n\r\n5. The nine spheres are God, or the highest heaven, constraining\r\nand containing all the others; the Earth, around which the\r\nplanets and the highest heaven revolve; and the seven planets:\r\nthe revolution of all producing the \u201cmusic of the spheres.\u201d\r\n\r\n6. Clear: illustrious, noble; Latin, \u201cclarus.\u201d\r\n\r\n7. The sicke mette he drinketh of the tun: The sick man dreams\r\nthat he drinks wine, as one in health.\r\n\r\n8. The significance of the poet\u2019s looking to the NNW is not\r\nplain; his window may have faced that way.\r\n\r\n9. The idea of the twin gates, leading to the Paradise and the\r\nHell of lovers, may have been taken from the description of the\r\ngates of dreams in the Odyssey and the Aeneid; but the iteration\r\nof \u201cThrough me men go\u201d far more directly suggests the legend\r\non Dante\u2019s gate of Hell:\u2014\r\n\r\nPer me si va nella citta dolente,\r\nPer me si va nell\u2019 eterno dolore;\r\nPer me si va tra la perduta gente.\r\n\r\n(\u201cThrough me is the way to the city of sorrow,\r\nThrough me is the way to eternal suffering;\r\nThrough me is the way of the lost people\u201d)\r\n\r\nThe famous line, \u201cLasciate ogni speranza, voi che entrate\u201d \u2014\r\n\u201cAll hope abandon, ye who enter here\u201d \u2014 is evidently\r\nparaphrased in Chaucer\u2019s words \u201cTh\u2019eschewing is the only\r\nremedy;\u201d that is, the sole hope consists in the avoidance of that\r\ndismal gate.\r\n\r\n10. A powerful though homely description of torment; the\r\nsufferers being represented as fish enclosed in a weir from\r\nwhich all the water has been withdrawn.\r\n\r\n11. Compare with this catalogue raisonne of trees the ampler\r\nlist given by Spenser in \u201cThe Faerie Queen,\u201d book i. canto i. In\r\nseveral instances, as in \u201cthe builder oak\u201d and \u201cthe sailing pine,\u201d\r\nthe later poet has exactly copied the words of the earlier.\r\nThe builder oak: In the Middle Ages the oak was as\r\ndistinctively the building timber on land, as it subsequently\r\nbecame for the sea.\r\nThe pillar elm:  Spenser explains this in paraphrasing it into \u201cthe\r\nvineprop elm\u201d \u2014 because it was planted as a pillar or  prop to\r\nthe vine; it is called \u201cthe coffer unto carrain,\u201d or \u201ccarrion,\u201d\r\nbecause coffins for the dead were made from it.\r\nThe box, pipe tree: the box tree was used for making pipes or horns.\r\nHolm: the holly, used for whip-handles.\r\nThe sailing fir: Because ships\u2019 masts and spars were made of its\r\nwood.\r\nThe cypress death to plain: in Spenser\u2019s imitation, \u201cthe cypress\r\nfuneral.\u201d\r\nThe shooter yew: yew wood was used for bows.\r\nThe aspe for shaftes plain: of the aspen, or black poplar, arrows\r\nwere made.\r\nThe laurel divine: So called, either because it was Apollo\u2019s\r\ntree \u2014 Horace says that Pindar is \u201claurea donandus Apollinari\u201d (\u201cto\r\nbe given Apollo\u2019s laurel\u201d) \u2014 or because the honour which it\r\nsignified, when placed on the head of a poet or conqueror, lifted\r\na man as it were into the rank of the gods.\r\n\r\n12. If Chaucer had any special trio of courtiers in his mind when\r\nhe excluded so many names, we may suppose them to be\r\nCharms, Sorcery, and Leasings who, in The Knight\u2019s Tale, come\r\nafter Bawdry and Riches \u2014 to whom Messagerie (the carrying\r\nof messages) and Meed (reward, bribe) may correspond.\r\n\r\n13. The dove was the bird sacred to Venus; hence Ovid\r\nenumerates the peacock of Juno, Jove\u2019s armour bearing bird,\r\n\u201cCythereiadasque columbas\u201d (\u201cAnd the Cythereian doves\u201d) \u2014\r\n\u201cMetamorphoses. xv. 386\r\n\r\n14. Priapus:  fitly endowed with a place in the Temple of Love,\r\nas being the embodiment of the principle of fertility in flocks\r\nand the fruits of the earth. See note 23 to the Merchant\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n15. Ovid, in the \u201cFasti\u201d (i. 433), describes the confusion of\r\nPriapus when, in the night following a feast of sylvan and\r\nBacchic deities, the braying of the ass of Silenus wakened the\r\ncompany to detect the god in a furtive amatory expedition.\r\n\r\n16. Hautain: haughty, lofty; French, \u201chautain.\u201d\r\n\r\n17. Well to my pay: Well to my satisfaction; from French,\r\n\u201cpayer,\u201d to pay, satisfy; the same word often occurs, in the\r\nphrases \u201cwell apaid,\u201d and \u201cevil apaid.\u201d\r\n\r\n18. Valentia, in Spain, was famed for the fabrication of fine and\r\ntransparent stuffs.\r\n\r\n19. The obvious reference is to the proverbial \u201cSine Cerere et\r\nLibero friget Venus,\u201d (\u201cLove is frozen without freedom and\r\nfood\u201d) quoted in Terence, \u201cEunuchus,\u201d act iv. scene v.\r\n\r\n20. Cypride: Venus; called \u201cCypria,\u201d or \u201cCypris,\u201d from the\r\nisland of Cyprus, in which her worship was especially\r\ncelebrated.\r\n\r\n21. Callisto, daughter of Lycaon, was seduced by Jupiter,\r\nturned into a bear by Diana, and placed afterwards, with her\r\nson, as the Great Bear among the stars.\r\nAtalanta challenged Hippomenes, a Boetian youth, to a race in\r\nwhich the prize was her hand in marriage \u2014 the penalty of\r\nfailure, death by her hand. Venus gave Hippomenes three\r\ngolden apples, and he won by dropping them one at a time\r\nbecause Atalanta stopped to pick them up.\r\nSemiramis was Queen of Ninus, the mythical founder of\r\nBabylon; Ovid mentions her, along with Lais, as a type of\r\nvoluptuousness, in his \u201cAmores,\u201d 1.5, 11.\r\nCanace, daughter of Aeolus, is named in the prologue to The\r\nMan of Law\u2019s Tale as one of the ladies whose \u201ccursed stories\u201d\r\nChaucer refrained from writing. She loved her brother\r\nMacareus, and was slain by her father.\r\nHercules was conquered by his love for Omphale, and spun\r\nwool for her in a woman\u2019s dress, while she wore his lion\u2019s skin.\r\nBiblis vainly pursued her brother Caunus with her love, till she\r\nwas changed to a fountain; Ovid, \u201cMetamorphoses.\u201d lib. ix.\r\nThisbe and Pyramus: the Babylonian lovers, whose death,\r\nthrough the error of Pyramus in fancying that a lion had slain his\r\nmistress, forms the theme of the interlude in the \u201cMidsummer\r\nNight\u2019s Dream.\u201d\r\nSir Tristram was one of the most famous among the knights of\r\nKing Arthur, and La Belle Isoude was his mistress. Their story\r\nis mixed up with the Arthurian romance; but it was also the\r\nsubject of separate treatment, being among the most popular of\r\nthe Middle Age legends.\r\nAchilles is reckoned among Love\u2019s conquests, because,\r\naccording to some traditions, he loved Polyxena, the daughter\r\nof Priam, who was promised to him if he consented to join the\r\nTrojans; and, going without arms into Apollo\u2019s temple at\r\nThymbra, he was there slain by Paris.\r\nScylla: Love-stories are told of two maidens of this name; one\r\nthe daughter of Nisus, King of Megara, who, falling in love with\r\nMinos when he besieged the city, slew  her father by pulling\r\nout the golden hair which grew on the top of his head, and on\r\nwhich  which his life and kingdom depended. Minos won the\r\ncity, but rejected her love in horror. The other Scylla, from\r\nwhom the rock opposite Charybdis was named, was a beautiful\r\nmaiden, beloved by the sea-god Glaucus, but changed into a\r\nmonster through the jealousy and enchantments of Circe.\r\nThe mother of Romulus:  Silvia, daughter and only living child\r\nof Numitor, whom her uncle Amulius made a vestal virgin, to\r\npreclude the possibility that his brother\u2019s descendants could\r\nwrest from him the kingdom of Alba Longa. But the maiden\r\nwas violated by Mars as she went to bring water from a\r\nfountain; she bore Romulus and Remus; and she was drowned\r\nin the Anio, while the cradle with the children was carried down\r\nthe stream in safety to the Palatine Hill, where the she-wolf\r\nadopted them.\r\n\r\n22. Prest: ready; French, \u201cpret.\u201d\r\n\r\n23. Alanus de Insulis, a Sicilian poet and orator of the twelfth\r\ncentury, who wrote a book \u201cDe Planctu Naturae\u201d \u2014 \u201cThe\r\nComplaint of Nature.\u201d\r\n\r\n24. The falcon was borne on the hand by the highest\r\npersonages, not merely in actual sport, but to be caressed and\r\npetted, even on occasions of ceremony, Hence also it is called\r\nthe \u201cgentle\u201d falcon \u2014 as if its high birth and breeding gave it a\r\nright to august society.\r\n\r\n25. The merlion: elsewhere in the same poem called \u201cemerlon;\u201d\r\nFrench, \u201cemerillon;\u201d the merlin, a small hawk carried by ladies.\r\n\r\n26. The scorning jay: scorning humbler birds, out of pride of his\r\nfine plumage.\r\n\r\n27. The false lapwing: full of stratagems and pretences to divert\r\napproaching danger from the nest where her young ones are.\r\n\r\n28. The sparrow, Venus\u2019 son: Because sacred to Venus.\r\n\r\n29. Coming with the spring, the nightingale is charmingly said\r\nto call forth the new leaves.\r\n\r\n30. Many-coloured wings, like those of peacocks, were often\r\ngiven to angels in paintings of the Middle Ages; and in\r\naccordance with this fashion Spenser represents the Angel that\r\nguarded Sir Guyon (\u201cFaerie Queen,\u201d book ii. canto vii.) as\r\nhaving wings \u201cdecked with diverse plumes, like painted jay\u2019s.\u201d\r\n\r\n31. The pheasant, scorner of the cock by night:  The meaning of\r\nthis passage is not very plain; it has been supposed, however, to\r\nrefer to the frequent breeding of pheasants at night with\r\ndomestic poultry in the farmyard \u2014 thus scorning the sway of\r\nthe cock, its rightful monarch.\r\n\r\n32. The waker goose:  Chaucer evidently alludes to the passage\r\nin Ovid describing the crow of Apollo, which rivalled the\r\nspotless doves, \u201cNec servataris vigili Capitolia voce cederet\r\nanseribus\u201d \u2014 \u201cnor would it yield (in whiteness) to the geese\r\ndestined with wakeful or vigilant voice to save the Capitol\u201d\r\n(\u201cMetam.,\u201d ii. 538) when about to be surprised by the Gauls in\r\na night attack.\r\n\r\n33. The cuckoo ever unkind: the significance of this epithet is\r\namply explained by the poem of \u201cThe Cuckoo and the\r\nNightingale.\u201d\r\n\r\n34. The drake, destroyer: of the ducklings \u2014 which, if not\r\nprevented, he will kill wholesale.\r\n\r\n35. The stork is conspicuous for faithfulness to all family\r\nobligations, devotion to its young, and care of its parent birds in\r\ntheir old age. Mr Bell quotes from Bishop Stanley\u2019s \u201cHistory of\r\nBirds\u201d a little story which peculiarly justifies the special\r\ncharacter Chaucer has given: \u2014  \u201cA French surgeon, at Smyrna,\r\nwishing to procure a stork, and finding great difficulty, on\r\naccount of the extreme veneration in which they are held by the\r\nTurks, stole all the eggs out of a nest, and replaced them with\r\nthose of a hen: in process of time the young chickens came\r\nforth, much to the astonishment of Mr and Mrs Stork. In a\r\nshort time Mr S. went off, and was not seen for two or three\r\ndays, when he returned with an immense crowd of his\r\ncompanions, who all assembled in the place, and formed a\r\ncircle, taking no notice of the numerous spectators whom so\r\nunusual an occurrence had collected. Mrs Stork was brought\r\nforward into the midst of the circle, and, after some\r\nconsultation, the whole flock fell upon her and tore her to\r\npieces; after which they immediately dispersed, and the nest was\r\nentirely abandoned.\u201d\r\n\r\n36. The cormorant feeds upon fish, so voraciously, that when\r\nthe stomach is crammed it will often have the gullet and bill\r\nlikewise full, awaiting the digestion of the rest.\r\n\r\n37. So called from the evil omens supposed to be afforded by\r\ntheir harsh cries.\r\n\r\n38. The fieldfare visits this country only in hard wintry weather.\r\n\r\n39. \u201cFormel,\u201d strictly or originally applied to the female of the\r\neagle and hawk, is here used generally of the female of all birds;\r\n\u201ctercel\u201d is the corresponding word applied to the male.\r\n\r\n40. Entriketh: entangles, ensnares; french, \u201cintriguer,\u201d to\r\nperplex; hence \u201cintricate.\u201d\r\n\r\n41. Entremette him of: meddle with; French, \u201centremettre,\u201d to\r\ninterfere.\r\n\r\n42. The duck exhorts the contending lovers to be of light heart\r\nand sing, for abundance of other ladies were at their command.\r\n\r\n43. Solain: single, alone; the same word originally as \u201csullen.\u201d\r\n\r\n44. The cuckoo is distinguished by its habit of laying its eggs in\r\nthe nests of other and smaller birds, such as the hedge-sparrow\r\n(\u201cheggsugg\u201d); and its young, when hatched, throw the eggs or\r\nnestlings of the true parent bird out of the nest, thus engrossing\r\nthe mother\u2019s entire care. The crime on which the emerlon\r\ncomments so sharply, is explained by the migratory habits of the\r\ncuckoo, which prevent its bringing up its own young; and\r\nnature has provided facilities for the crime, by furnishing the\r\nyoung bird with a peculiarly strong and broad back, indented by\r\na hollow in which the sparrow\u2019s egg is lifted till it is thrown out\r\nof the nest.\r\n\r\n45. \u201cWho well loves, late forgets;\u201d the refrain of the roundel\r\ninculcates the duty of constancy, which has been imposed on\r\nthe three tercels by the decision of the Court.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE FLOWER AND THE LEAF\r\n\r\n\r\n[\u201cThe Flower and the Leaf\u201d is pre-eminently one of those\r\npoems by which Chaucer may be triumphantly defended against\r\nthe charge of licentious coarseness, that, founded upon his\r\nfaithful representation of the manners, customs, and daily life\r\nand speech of his own time, in \u201cThe Canterbury Tales,\u201d are\r\nsweepingly advanced against his works at large. In an allegory \u2014\r\nrendered perhaps somewhat cumbrous by the detail of chivalric\r\nceremonial, and the heraldic minuteness, which entered so liberally\r\ninto poetry, as into the daily life of the classes for whom poetry\r\nwas then written \u2014 Chaucer beautifully enforces the lasting\r\nadvantages of purity, valour, and faithful love, and the fleeting\r\nand disappointing character of mere idle pleasure, of sloth\r\nand listless retirement from the battle of life. In the\r\n\u201cseason sweet\u201d of spring, which the great singer of Middle Age\r\nEngland loved so well, a gentle woman is supposed to seek\r\nsleep in vain, to rise \u201cabout the springing of the gladsome day,\u201d\r\nand, by an unfrequented path in a pleasant grove, to arrive at an\r\narbour. Beside the arbour stands a medlar-tree, in which a\r\nGoldfinch sings passing sweetly; and the Nightingale answers\r\nfrom a green laurel tree, with so merry and ravishing a note,\r\nthat the lady resolves to proceed no farther, but sit down on the\r\ngrass to listen. Suddenly the sound of many voices singing\r\nsurprises her; and she sees \u201ca world of ladies\u201d emerge from a\r\ngrove, clad in white, and wearing garlands of laurel, of agnus\r\ncastus, and woodbind. One, who wears a crown and bears a\r\nbranch of agnus castus in her hand, begins a roundel, in honour\r\nof the Leaf, which all the others take up, dancing and singing in\r\nthe meadow before the arbour. Soon, to the sound of\r\nthundering trumps, and attended by a splendid and warlike\r\nretinue, enter nine knights, in white, crowned like the ladies;\r\nand after they have jousted an hour and more, they alight and\r\nadvance to the ladies. Each dame takes a knight by the hand;\r\nand all incline reverently to the laurel tree, which they\r\nencompass, singing of love, and dancing. Soon, preceded by a\r\nband of minstrels, out of the open field comes a lusty company\r\nof knights and ladies in green, crowned with chaplets of\r\nflowers; and they do reverence to a tuft of flowers in the middle\r\nof the meadow, while one of their number sings a bergerette in\r\npraise of the daisy. But now it is high noon; the sun waxes\r\nfervently hot; the flowers lose their beauty, and wither with the\r\nheat; the ladies in green are scorched, the knights faint for lack\r\nof shade. Then a strong wind beats down all the flowers, save\r\nsuch as are protected by the leaves of hedges and groves; and a\r\nmighty storm of rain and hail drenches the ladies and knights,\r\nshelterless in the now flowerless meadow. The storm overpast,\r\nthe company in white, whom the laurel-tree has safely shielded\r\nfrom heat and storm, advance to the relief of the others; and\r\nwhen their clothes have been dried, and their wounds from sun\r\nand storm healed, all go together to sup with the Queen in\r\nwhite \u2014 on whose hand, as they pass by the arbour, the\r\nNightingale perches, while the Goldfinch flies to the Lady of the\r\nFlower. The pageant gone, the gentlewoman quits the arbour,\r\nand meets a lady in white, who, at her request, unfolds the\r\nhidden meaning of all that she has seen; \u201cwhich,\u201d says Speght\r\nquaintly, \u201cis this: They which honour the Flower, a thing fading\r\nwith every blast, are such as look after beauty and worldly\r\npleasure. But they that honour the Leaf, which abideth with the\r\nroot, notwithstanding the frosts and winter storms, are they\r\nwhich follow Virtue and during qualities, without regard of\r\nworldly respects.\u201d Mr Bell, in his edition, has properly noticed\r\nthat there is no explanation of the emblematical import of the\r\nmedlar-tree, the goldfinch, and the nightingale. \u201cBut,\u201d he says,\r\n\u201cas the fruit of the medlar, to use Chaucer\u2019s own expression (see\r\nPrologue to the Reeve\u2019s Tale), is rotten before it is ripe, it may\r\nbe the emblem of sensual pleasure, which palls before it confers\r\nreal enjoyment. The goldfinch is remarkable for the beauty of its\r\nplumage, the sprightliness of its movements, and its gay,\r\ntinkling song, and may be supposed to represent the showy and\r\nunsubstantial character of frivolous pleasures. The nightingale\u2019s\r\nsober outward appearance and impassioned song denote greater\r\ndepth of feeling.\u201d The poem throughout is marked by the purest\r\nand loftiest moral tone; and it amply deserved Dryden\u2019s special\r\nrecommendation, \u201cboth for the invention and the moral.\u201d It is\r\ngiven without abridgement.]\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was\r\nnot the author of this poem)\r\n\r\nWHEN that Phoebus his car of gold so high\r\nHad whirled up the starry sky aloft,\r\nAnd in the Bull <1> enter\u2019d certainly;\r\nWhen showers sweet of rain descended soft,\r\nCausing the grounde, fele* times and oft,                          *many\r\nUp for to give many a wholesome air,\r\nAnd every plain was y-clothed fair\r\n\r\nWith newe green, and maketh smalle flow\u2019rs\r\nTo springe here and there in field and mead;\r\nSo very good and wholesome be the show\u2019rs,\r\nThat they renewe what was old and dead\r\nIn winter time; and out of ev\u2019ry seed\r\nSpringeth the herbe, so that ev\u2019ry wight\r\nOf thilke* season waxeth glad and light.                           *this\r\n\r\nAnd I, so glad of thilke season sweet,\r\nWas *happed thus* upon a certain night,             *thus circumstanced*\r\nAs I lay in my bed, sleep full unmeet*               *unfit, uncompliant\r\nWas unto me; but why that I not might\r\nRest, I not wist; for there n\u2019as* earthly wight,                *was not\r\nAs I suppose, had more hearte\u2019s ease\r\nThan I, for I n\u2019had* sickness nor disease.**         *had not **distress\r\n\r\nWherefore I marvel greatly of myself,\r\nThat I so long withoute sleepe lay;\r\nAnd up I rose three houres after twelf,\r\nAbout the springing of the [gladsome] day;\r\nAnd on I put my gear* and mine array,                          *garments\r\nAnd to a pleasant grove I gan to pass,\r\nLong ere the brighte sun uprisen was;\r\n\r\nIn which were oakes great, straight as a line,\r\nUnder the which the grass, so fresh of hue,\r\nWas newly sprung; and an eight foot or nine\r\nEvery tree well from his fellow grew,\r\nWith branches broad, laden with leaves new,\r\nThat sprangen out against the sunne sheen;\r\nSome very red;<2> and some a glad light green;\r\n\r\nWhich, as me thought, was right a pleasant sight.\r\nAnd eke the birdes\u2019 songes for to hear\r\nWould have rejoiced any earthly wight;\r\nAnd I, that could not yet, in no mannere,\r\nHeare the nightingale of* all the year,<3>                       *during\r\nFull busy hearkened with heart and ear,\r\nIf I her voice perceive could anywhere.\r\n\r\nAnd at the last a path of little brede*                         *breadth\r\nI found, that greatly had not used be;\r\nFor it forgrowen* was with grass and weed,                    *overgrown\r\nThat well unneth* a wight mighte see:                          *scarcely\r\nThought I, \u201cThis path some whither goes, pardie!\u201d*          *of a surety\r\nAnd so I follow\u2019d [it], till it me brought\r\nTo a right pleasant arbour, well y-wrought,\r\n\r\nThat benched  was, and [all] with turfes new\r\nFreshly y-turf\u2019d, <4> whereof the greene grass,\r\nSo small, so thick, so short, so fresh of hue,\r\nThat most like to green wool, I wot, it was;\r\nThe hedge also, that *yeden in compass,*           *went all around <5>*\r\nAnd closed in all the greene herbere,*                           *arbour\r\nWith sycamore was set and eglatere,*             *eglantine, sweet-briar\r\n\r\nWreathed *in fere* so well and cunningly,                     *together*\r\nThat ev\u2019ry branch and leaf grew *by measure,*                *regularly*\r\nPlain as a board, of *a height by and by:*         *the same height side\r\nI saw never a thing, I you ensure,                              by side*\r\nSo well y-done; for he that took the cure*                  *pains, care\r\nTo maken it, I trow did all his pain\r\nTo make it pass all those that men have seen.\r\n\r\nAnd shapen was this arbour, roof and all,\r\nAs is a pretty parlour; and also\r\nThe hedge as thick was as a castle wall,\r\nThat whoso list without to stand or go,\r\nThough he would all day pryen to and fro,\r\nHe should not see if there were any wight\r\nWithin or no; but one within well might\r\n\r\nPerceive all those that wente there without\r\nInto the field, that was on ev\u2019ry side\r\nCover\u2019d with corn and grass; that out of doubt,\r\nThough one would seeken all the worlde wide,\r\nSo rich a fielde could not be espied\r\nUpon no coast, *as of the quantity;*                  *for its abundance\r\nFor of all goode thing there was plenty.                   or fertility*\r\n\r\nAnd I, that all this pleasant sight [did] see,\r\nThought suddenly I felt so sweet an air\r\nOf the eglentere, that certainly\r\nThere is no heart, I deem, in such despair,\r\nNor yet with thoughtes froward and contrair\r\nSo overlaid, but it should soon have boot,*             *remedy, relief*\r\nIf it had ones felt this *savour swoot.*                   *sweet smell*\r\n\r\nAnd as I stood, and cast aside mine eye,\r\nI was ware of the fairest medlar tree\r\nThat ever yet in all my life I seye,*                               *saw\r\nAs full of blossoms as it mighte be;\r\nTherein a goldfinch leaping prettily\r\nFrom bough to bough; and as him list he eat\r\nHere and there of the buds and flowers sweet.\r\n\r\nAnd to the arbour side was adjoining\r\nThis fairest tree, of which I have you told;\r\nAnd at the last the bird began to sing\r\n(When he had eaten what he eate wo\u2019ld)\r\nSo passing sweetly, that by many fold\r\nIt was more pleasant than I could devise;*               *tell, describe\r\nAnd, when his song was ended in this wise,\r\n\r\nThe nightingale with so merry a note\r\nAnswered him, that all the woode rung,\r\nSo suddenly, that, *as it were a sote,*                *like a fool <6>*\r\nI stood astound\u2019; so was I with the song\r\nThorough ravished, that, *till late and long,*         *for a long time*\r\nI wist not in what place I was, nor where;\r\nAgain, me thought, she sung e\u2019en by mine ear.\r\n\r\nWherefore I waited about busily\r\nOn ev\u2019ry side, if that I might her see;\r\nAnd at the last I gan full well espy\r\nWhere she sat in a fresh green laurel tree,\r\nOn the further side, even right by me,\r\nThat gave so passing a delicious smell,\r\n*According to* the eglantere full well.                  *blending with*\r\n\r\nWhereof I had so inly great pleasure,\r\nThat, as me thought, I surely ravish\u2019d was\r\nInto Paradise, where [as] my desire\r\nWas for to be, and no farther to pass,\r\nAs for that day; and on the sweete grass\r\nI sat me down; for, *as for mine intent,*                   *to my mind*\r\nThe birde\u2019s song was more *convenient,*       *appropriate to my humour*\r\n\r\nAnd more pleasant to me, by many fold,\r\nThan meat, or drink, or any other thing;\r\nThereto the arbour was so fresh and cold,\r\nThe wholesome savours eke so comforting,\r\nThat, as I deemed, since the beginning\r\nOf the world was [there] never seen *ere than*             *before then*\r\nSo pleasant a ground of none earthly man.\r\n\r\nAnd as I sat, the birdes heark\u2019ning thus,\r\nMe thought that I heard voices suddenly,\r\nThe most sweetest and most delicious\r\nThat ever any wight, I *trow truely,*                   *verily believe*\r\nHeard in their life; for the harmony\r\nAnd sweet accord was in so good musike,\r\nThat the voices to angels\u2019 most were like.\r\n\r\nAt the last, out of a grove even by,\r\nThat was right goodly, and pleasant to sight,\r\nI saw where there came, singing lustily,\r\nA world of ladies; but to tell aright\r\nTheir greate beauty, lies not in my might,\r\nNor their array; nevertheless I shall\r\nTell you a part, though I speak not of all.\r\n\r\nIn surcoats* white, of velvet well fitting,                 *upper robes\r\nThey were clad, and the seames each one,\r\nAs it were a mannere [of] garnishing,\r\nWas set with emeraldes, one and one,\r\n*By and by;* but many a riche stone                           *in a row*\r\nWas set upon the purfles,* out of doubt,              *embroidered edges\r\nOf collars, sleeves, and traines round about;\r\n\r\nAs greate pearles, round and orient,*                         *brilliant\r\nAnd diamondes fine, and rubies red,\r\nAnd many another stone, of which I went*                  *cannot recall\r\nThe names now; and ev\u2019reach on her head\r\n[Had] a rich fret* of gold, which, without dread,**        *band **doubt\r\nWas full of stately* riche stones set;                  *valuable, noble\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry lady had a chapelet\r\n\r\nUpon her head of branches fresh and green, <7>\r\nSo well y-wrought, and so marvellously,\r\nThat it was a right noble sight to see\u2019n;\r\nSome of laurel, and some full pleasantly\r\nHad chapelets of woodbine; and sadly,*                         *sedately\r\nSome of agnus castus <8> wearen also\r\nChapelets fresh; but there were many of tho\u2019*                     *those\r\n\r\nThat danced and eke sung full soberly;\r\nAnd all they went *in manner of compass;*                  *in a circle*\r\nBut one there went, in mid the company,\r\nSole by herself; but all follow\u2019d the pace\r\nThat she kept, whose heavenly figur\u2019d face\r\nSo pleasant was, and her well shap\u2019d person,\r\nThat in beauty she pass\u2019d them ev\u2019ry one.\r\n\r\nAnd more richly beseen, by many fold,\r\nShe was also in ev\u2019ry manner thing:\r\nUpon her head, full pleasant to behold,\r\nA crown of golde, rich for any king;\r\nA branch of agnus castus eke bearing\r\nIn her hand, and to my sight truely\r\nShe Lady was of all that company.\r\n\r\nAnd she began a roundell <9> lustily,\r\nThat \u201cSuse le foyle, devers moi,\u201d men call,\r\n\u201cSiene et mon joly coeur est endormy;\u201d <10>\r\nAnd then the company answered all,\r\nWith voices sweet entuned, and so small,*                          *fine\r\nThat me thought it the sweetest melody\r\nThat ever I heard in my life, soothly.*                           *truly\r\n\r\nAnd thus they came, dancing and singing,\r\nInto the middest of the mead each one,\r\nBefore the arbour where I was sitting;\r\nAnd, God wot, me thought I was well-begone,*                  *fortunate\r\nFor then I might advise* them one by one,                      *consider\r\nWho fairest was, who best could dance or sing,\r\nOr who most womanly was in all thing.\r\n\r\nThey had not danced but a *little throw,*                   *short time*\r\nWhen that I hearde far off, suddenly,\r\nSo great a noise of thund\u2019ring trumpets blow,\r\nAs though it should departed* have the sky;                *rent, divide\r\nAnd after that, within a while, I sigh,*                            *saw\r\nFrom the same grove, where the ladies came out,\r\nOf men of armes coming such a rout,*                            *company\r\n\r\nAs* all the men on earth had been assembled                       *as if\r\nUnto that place, well horsed for the nonce*                    *occasion\r\nStirring so fast, that all the earthe trembled\r\nBut for to speak of riches, and of stones,\r\nAnd men and horse, I trow the large ones*                   *i.e. jewels\r\nOf Prester John, <11> nor all his treasury,\r\nMight not unneth* have bought the tenth party**           *hardly **part\r\n\r\nOf their array: whoso list heare more,\r\nI shall rehearse so as I can a lite.*                            *little\r\nOut of the grove, that I spake of before,\r\nI saw come first, all in their cloakes white,\r\nA company, that wore, for their delight,\r\nChapelets fresh of oake cerrial, <12>\r\nNewly y-sprung; and trumpets* were they all.                 *trumpeters\r\n\r\nOn ev\u2019ry trump hanging a broad bannere\r\nOf fine tartarium <13> was, full richly beat;*    *embroidered with gold\r\nEvery trumpet his lord\u2019s armes bare;\r\nAbout their necks, with greate pearles set,\r\n[Were] collars broad; for cost they would not let,*      *be hindered by\r\nAs it would seem, for their scutcheons each one\r\nWere set about with many a precious stone.\r\n\r\nTheir horses\u2019 harness was all white also.\r\nAnd after them next, in one company,\r\nCame kinges at armes and no mo\u2019,\r\nIn cloakes of white cloth with gold richly;\r\nChaplets of green upon their heads on high;\r\nThe crownes that they on their scutcheons bare\r\nWere set with pearl, and ruby, and sapphire,\r\n\r\nAnd eke great diamondes many one:\r\nBut all their horse harness, and other gear,\r\nWas in a suit according, ev\u2019ry one,\r\nAs ye have heard the foresaid trumpets were;\r\nAnd, by seeming, they *were nothing to lear,*     *had nothing to learn*\r\nAnd their guiding they did all mannerly.*                     *perfectly\r\nAnd after them came a great company\r\n\r\nOf heraldes and pursuivantes eke,\r\nArrayed in clothes of white velvet;\r\nAnd, hardily,* they were no thing to seek,                     assuredly\r\nHow they on them shoulde the harness set:\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry man had on a chapelet;\r\nScutcheones and eke harness, indeed,\r\nThey had *in suit of* them that \u2019fore them yede.*   *corresponding with*\r\n                                                                   *went\r\nNext after them in came, in armour bright,\r\nAll save their heades, seemly knightes nine,\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry clasp and nail, as to my sight,\r\nOf their harness was of red golde fine;\r\nWith cloth of gold, and furred with ermine,\r\nWere the trappures* of their steedes strong,                  *trappings\r\nBoth wide and large, that to the grounde hung.\r\n\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry boss of bridle and paytrel*               *horse\u2019s breastplate\r\nThat they had on, was worth, as I would ween,\r\nA thousand pound; and on their heades, well\r\nDressed, were crownes of the laurel green,\r\nThe beste made that ever I had seen;\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry knight had after him riding\r\nThree henchemen* upon him awaiting.                               *pages\r\n\r\nOf which ev\u2019ry [first], on a short truncheon,*                    *staff\r\nHis lorde\u2019s helmet bare, so richly dight,*                      *adorned\r\nThat the worst of them was worthy the ranson*                    *ransom\r\nOf any king; the second a shielde bright\r\nBare at his back; the thirde bare upright\r\nA mighty spear, full sharp y-ground and keen;\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry childe* ware of leaves green                             *page\r\n\r\nA freshe chaplet on his haires bright;\r\nAnd cloakes white of fine velvet they ware\r\nTheir steedes trapped and arrayed right,\r\nWithout difference, as their lordes\u2019 were;\r\nAnd after them, on many a fresh courser,\r\nThere came of armed knightes such a rout,*               *company, crowd\r\nThat they bespread the large field about.\r\n\r\nAnd all they waren, after their degrees,\r\nChapelets newe made of laurel green,\r\nSome of the oak, and some of other trees;\r\nSome in their handes bare boughes sheen,*                        *bright\r\nSome of laurel, and some of oakes keen,\r\nSome of hawthorn, and some of the woodbind,\r\nAnd many more which I had not in mind.\r\n\r\nAnd so they came, their horses fresh stirring\r\nWith bloody soundes of their trumpets loud;\r\nThere saw I many an *uncouth disguising*           *strange manoeuvring*\r\nIn the array of these knightes proud;\r\nAnd at the last, as evenly as they could,\r\nThey took their place in middest of the mead,\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry knight turned his horse\u2019s head\r\n\r\nTo his fellow, and lightly laid a spear\r\nInto the rest; and so the jousts began\r\nOn ev\u2019ry part aboute, here and there;\r\nSome brake his spear, some threw down horse and man;\r\nAbout the field astray the steedes ran;\r\nAnd, to behold their rule and governance,*                      *conduct\r\nI you ensure, it was a great pleasuance.\r\n\r\nAnd so the joustes last\u2019* an hour and more;                      *lasted\r\nBut those that crowned were in laurel green\r\nWonne the prize; their dintes* were so sore,                    *strokes\r\nThat there was none against them might sustene:\r\nAnd the jousting was alle left off clean,\r\nAnd from their horse the nine alight\u2019 anon,\r\nAnd so did all the remnant ev\u2019ry one.\r\n\r\nAnd forth they went together, twain and twain,\r\nThat to behold it was a worthy sight,\r\nToward the ladies on the greene plain,\r\nThat sang and danced as I said now right;\r\nThe ladies, as soon as they goodly might,\r\nThey brake off both the song and eke the dance,\r\nAnd went to meet them with full glad semblance.*            *air, aspect\r\n\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry lady took, full womanly,\r\nBy th\u2019hand a knight, and so forth right they yede*                 *went\r\nUnto a fair laurel that stood fast by,\r\nWith leaves lade the boughs of greate brede;*                   *breadth\r\nAnd, to my doom,* there never was, indeed,                     *judgment\r\nMan that had seene half so fair a tree;\r\nFor underneath it there might well have be*                        *been\r\n\r\nA hundred persons, *at their own pleasance,*        *in perfect comfort*\r\nShadowed from the heat of Phoebus bright,\r\nSo that they shoulde have felt no grievance*                  *annoyance\r\nOf rain nor haile that them hurte might.\r\nThe savour eke rejoice would any wight\r\nThat had been sick or melancholious,\r\nIt was so very good and virtuous.*              *full of healing virtues\r\n\r\nAnd with great rev\u2019rence they inclined low\r\nUnto the tree so sweet and fair of hue;*                     *appearance\r\nAnd after that, within a *little throw,*                    *short time*\r\nThey all began to sing and dance of new,\r\nSome song of love, some *plaining of untrue,*              *complaint of\r\nEnvironing* the tree that stood upright;                 unfaithfulness*\r\nAnd ever went a lady and a knight.                          *going round\r\n\r\nAnd at the last I cast mine eye aside,\r\nAnd was ware of a lusty company\r\nThat came roaming out of the fielde wide;\r\n[And] hand in hand a knight and a lady;\r\nThe ladies all in surcoats, that richly\r\nPurfiled* were with many a riche stone;          *trimmed at the borders\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry knight of green ware mantles on,\r\n\r\nEmbroider\u2019d well, so as the surcoats were;\r\nAnd ev\u2019reach had a chaplet on her head\r\n(Which did right well upon the shining hair),\r\nMaked of goodly flowers, white and red.\r\nThe knightes eke, that they in hande led,\r\nIn suit of them ware chaplets ev\u2019ry one,\r\nAnd them before went minstrels many one,\r\n\r\nAs harpes, pipes, lutes, and psaltry,\r\nAll [clad] in green; and, on their heades bare,\r\nOf divers flowers, made full craftily\r\nAll in a suit, goodly chaplets they ware;\r\nAnd so dancing into the mead they fare.\r\nIn mid the which they found a tuft that was\r\nAll overspread with flowers in compass*             *around, in a circle\r\n\r\nWhereunto they inclined ev\u2019ry one,\r\nWith great reverence, and that full humbly\r\nAnd at the last there then began anon\r\nA lady for to sing right womanly,\r\nA bargaret, <14> in praising the daisy.\r\nFor, as me thought, among her notes sweet,\r\nShe saide: \u201cSi douce est la margarete.\u201d<15>\r\n\r\nThen alle they answered her in fere*                           *together\r\nSo passingly well, and so pleasantly,\r\nThat it was a [most] blissful noise to hear.\r\nBut, I n\u2019ot* how, it happen\u2019d suddenly                         *know not\r\nAs about noon the sun so fervently\r\nWax\u2019d hote, that the pretty tender flow\u2019rs\r\nHad lost the beauty of their fresh colours,\r\n\r\nForshrunk* with heat; the ladies eke to-brent,**\t*shrivelled **very burnt\r\nThat they knew not where they might them bestow;\r\nThe knightes swelt,* for lack of shade nigh shent**\t*fainted **destroyed\r\nAnd after that, within a little throw,\r\nThe wind began so sturdily to blow,\r\nThat down went all the flowers ev\u2019ry one,\r\nSo that in all the mead there left not one;\r\n\r\nSave such as succour\u2019d were among the leaves\r\nFrom ev\u2019ry storm that mighte them assail,\r\nGrowing under the hedges and thick greves;*              *groves, boughs\r\nAnd after that there came a storm of hail\r\nAnd rain in fere,* so that withoute fail                       *together\r\nThe ladies nor the knights had not one thread\r\nDry on them, so dropping was [all] their weed.*                *clothing\r\n\r\nAnd when the storm was passed clean away,\r\nThose in the white, that stood under the tree,\r\nThey felt no thing of all the great affray\r\nThat they in green without *had in y-be:*                  *had been in*\r\nTo them they went for ruth, and for pity,\r\nThem to comfort after their great disease;*                     *trouble\r\nSo fain* they were the helpless for to ease.                *glad, eager\r\n\r\nThen I was ware how one of them in green\r\nHad on a crowne, rich and well sitting;*                       *becoming\r\nWherefore I deemed well she was a queen,\r\nAnd those in green on her were awaiting.*                 *in attendance\r\nThe ladies then in white that were coming\r\nToward them, and the knightes eke *in fere,*                  *together*\r\nBegan to comfort them, and make them cheer.\r\n\r\nThe queen in white, that was of great beauty,\r\nTook by the hand the queen that was in green,\r\nAnd saide: \u201cSister, I have great pity\r\nOf your annoy, and of your troublous teen,*               *injury, grief\r\nWherein you and your company have been\r\nSo long, alas! and if that it you please\r\nTo go with me, I shall you do the ease,\r\n\r\n\u201cIn all the pleasure that I can or may;\u201d\r\nWhereof the other, humbly as she might,\r\nThanked her; for in right evil array\r\nShe was, with storm and heat, I you behight;*                    *assure\r\nArid ev\u2019ry lady then anon aright,\r\nThat were in white, one of them took in green\r\nBy the hand; which when that the knights had seen,\r\n\r\nIn like mannere each of them took a knight\r\nY-clad in green, and forth with them they fare\r\nUnto a hedge, where that they anon right,\r\nTo make their joustes,<16> they would not spare\r\nBoughes to hewe down, and eke trees square,\r\nWherewith they made them stately fires great,\r\nTo dry their clothes, that were wringing wet.\r\n\r\nAnd after that, of herbes that there grew,\r\nThey made, for blisters of the sun\u2019s burning,\r\nOintmentes very good, wholesome, and new,\r\nWherewith they went the sick fast anointing;\r\nAnd after that they went about gath\u2019ring\r\nPleasant salades, which they made them eat,\r\nFor to refresh their great unkindly heat.\r\n\r\nThe Lady of the Leaf then gan to pray\r\nHer of the Flower (for so, to my seeming,\r\nThey should be called, as by their array),\r\nTo sup with her; and eke, for anything,\r\nThat she should with her all her people bring;\r\nAnd she again in right goodly mannere\r\nThanked her fast of her most friendly cheer;\r\n\r\nSaying plainely, that she would obey,\r\nWith all her heart, all her commandement:\r\nAnd then anon, without longer delay,\r\nThe Lady of the Leaf hath one y-sent\r\nTo bring a palfrey, *after her intent,*          *according to her wish*\r\nArrayed well in fair harness of gold;\r\nFor nothing lack\u2019d, that *to him longe sho\u2019ld.*   *should belong to him*\r\n\r\nAnd, after that, to all her company\r\nShe made to purvey* horse and ev\u2019rything                        *provide\r\nThat they needed; and then full lustily,\r\nEv\u2019n by the arbour where I was sitting,\r\nThey passed all, so merrily singing,\r\nThat it would have comforted any wight.\r\nBut then I saw a passing wondrous sight;\r\n\r\nFor then the nightingale, that all the day\r\nHad in the laurel sat, and did her might\r\nThe whole service to sing longing to May,\r\nAll suddenly began to take her flight;\r\nAnd to the Lady of the Leaf forthright\r\nShe flew, and set her on her hand softly;\r\nWhich was a thing I marvell\u2019d at greatly.\r\n\r\nThe goldfinch eke, that from the medlar tree\r\nWas fled for heat into the bushes cold,\r\nUnto the Lady of the Flower gan flee,\r\nAnd on her hand he set him as he wo\u2019ld,\r\nAnd pleasantly his winges gan to fold;\r\nAnd for to sing they *pain\u2019d them* both, as sore  *made great exertions*\r\nAs they had done *of all* the day before.                        *during\r\n\r\nAnd so these ladies rode forth *a great pace,*                 *rapidly*\r\nAnd all the rout of knightes eke in fere;\r\nAnd I, that had seen all this *wonder case,*         *wondrous incident*\r\nThought that I would assay in some mannere\r\nTo know fully the truth of this mattere,\r\nAnd what they were that rode so pleasantly;\r\nAnd when they were the arbour passed by,\r\n\r\nI *dress\u2019d me forth,* and happ\u2019d to meet anon             *issued forth*\r\nA right fair lady, I do you ensure;*                             *assure\r\nAnd she came riding by herself alone,\r\nAll in white; [then] with semblance full demure\r\nI her saluted, and bade good adventure*                         *fortune\r\nMight her befall, as I could most humbly;\r\nAnd she answer\u2019d: \u201cMy daughter, gramercy!\u201d*           *great thanks <17>\r\n\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth I, \u201cif that I durst enquere\r\nOf you, I would fain, of that company,\r\nWit what they be that pass\u2019d by this herbere?\r\nAnd she again answered right friendly:\r\n\u201cMy faire daughter, all that pass\u2019d hereby\r\nIn white clothing, be servants ev\u2019ry one\r\nUnto the Leaf; and I myself am one.\r\n\r\n\u201cSee ye not her that crowned is,\u201d quoth she\r\n\u201c[Clad] all in white?\u201d \u2014 \u201cMadame,\u201d then quoth I, \u201cyes:\u201d\r\n\u201cThat is Dian\u2019, goddess of chastity;\r\nAnd for because that she a maiden is,\r\nIn her hande the branch she beareth this,\r\nThat agnus castus <8> men call properly;\r\nAnd all the ladies in her company,\r\n\r\n\u201cWhich ye see of that herbe chaplets wear,\r\nBe such as have kept alway maidenhead:\r\nAnd all they that of laurel chaplets bear,\r\nBe such as hardy* were in manly deed,  \u2014                    *courageous\r\nVictorious name which never may be dead!\r\nAnd all they were so *worthy of their hand*           *valiant in fight*\r\nIn their time, that no one might them withstand,\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd those that weare chaplets on their head\r\nOf fresh woodbind, be such as never were\r\nTo love untrue in word, in thought, nor deed,\r\nBut ay steadfast; nor for pleasance, nor fear,\r\nThough that they should their heartes all to-tear,*     *rend in pieces*\r\nWould never flit,* but ever were steadfast,                      *change\r\n*Till that their lives there asunder brast.\u201d*           *till they died*\r\n\r\n\u201cNow fair Madame,\u201d quoth I, \u201cyet would I pray\r\nYour ladyship, if that it mighte be,\r\nThat I might knowe, by some manner way\r\n(Since that it hath liked your beauty,\r\nThe truth of these ladies for to tell me),\r\nWhat that these knightes be in rich armour,\r\nAnd what those be in green and wear the flow\u2019r?\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd why that some did rev\u2019rence to that tree,\r\nAnd some unto the plot of flowers fair?\u201d\r\n\u201cWith right good will, my daughter fair,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cSince your desire is good and debonair;*             *gentle, courteous\r\nThe nine crowned be *very exemplair*                 *the true examples*\r\nOf all honour longing to chivalry;\r\nAnd those certain be call\u2019d The Nine Worthy, <18>\r\n\r\n\u201cWhich ye may see now riding all before,\r\nThat in their time did many a noble deed,\r\nAnd for their worthiness full oft have bore\r\nThe crown of laurel leaves upon their head,\r\nAs ye may in your olde bookes read;\r\nAnd how that he that was a conquerour\r\nHad by laurel alway his most honour.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd those that beare boughes in their hand\r\nOf the precious laurel so notable,\r\nBe such as were, I will ye understand,\r\nMost noble Knightes of the Rounde Table,<19>\r\nAnd eke the Douceperes honourable; <20>\r\nWhiche they bear in sign of victory,\r\nAs witness of their deedes mightily.\r\n\r\n\u201cEke there be knightes old <21> of the Garter,\r\nThat in their time did right worthily;\r\nAnd the honour they did to the laurer*                      *laurel <22>\r\nIs for* by it they have their laud wholly,                      *because\r\nTheir triumph eke, and martial glory;\r\nWhich unto them is more perfect richess\r\nThan any wight imagine can, or guess.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor one leaf given of that noble tree\r\nTo any wight that hath done worthily,\r\nAn\u2019* it be done so as it ought to be,                                *if\r\nIs more honour than any thing earthly;\r\nWitness of Rome, that founder was truly\r\nOf alle knighthood and deeds marvellous;\r\nRecord I take of Titus Livius.\u201d <23>\r\n\r\nAnd as for her that crowned is in green,\r\nIt is Flora, of these flowers goddess;\r\nAnd all that here on her awaiting be\u2019n,\r\nIt are such folk that loved idleness,\r\nAnd not delighted in no business,\r\nBut for to hunt and hawk, and play in meads,\r\nAnd many other such-like idle deeds.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd for the great delight and the pleasance\r\nThey have to the flow\u2019r, and so rev\u2019rently\r\nThey unto it do such obeisance\r\nAs ye may see.\u201d \u201cNow, fair Madame,\u201dquoth I,\r\n\u201cIf I durst ask, what is the cause, and why,\r\nThat knightes have the ensign* of honour                       *insignia\r\nRather by the leaf than by the flow\u2019r?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cSoothly, daughter,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthis is the troth:\r\nFor knights should ever be persevering,\r\nTo seek honour, without feintise* or sloth,               *dissimulation\r\nFrom well to better in all manner thing:\r\nIn sign of which, with leaves aye lasting\r\nThey be rewarded after their degree,\r\nWhose lusty green may not appaired* be,               *impaired, decayed\r\n\r\n\u201cBut ay keeping their beauty fresh and green;\r\nFor there is no storm that may them deface,\r\nNor hail nor snow, nor wind nor frostes keen;\r\nWherefore they have this property and grace:\r\nAnd for the flow\u2019r, within a little space,\r\nWolle* be lost, so simple of nature                                *will\r\nThey be, that they no grievance* may endure;           *injury, hardship\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd ev\u2019ry storm will blow them soon away,\r\nNor they laste not but for a season;\r\nThat is the cause, the very truth to say,\r\nThat they may not, by no way of reason,\r\nBe put to no such occupation.\u201d\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth I, \u201cwith all my whole service\r\nI thank you now, in my most humble wise;\r\n\r\n\u201cFor now I am ascertain\u2019d thoroughly\r\nOf ev\u2019ry thing that I desir\u2019d to know.\u201d\r\n\u201cI am right glad that I have said, soothly,\r\nAught to your pleasure, if ye will me trow,\u201d*                   *believe\r\nQuoth she again; \u201cbut to whom do ye owe\r\nYour service? and which wolle* ye honour,                          *will\r\nTell me, I pray, this year, the Leaf or the Flow\u2019r?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth I, \u201cthough I be least worthy,\r\nUnto the Leaf I owe mine observance:\u201d\r\n\u201cThat is,\u201d quoth she, \u201cright well done, certainly;\r\nAnd I pray God, to honour you advance,\r\nAnd keep you from the wicked remembrance\r\nOf Malebouche,* and all his cruelty;                       *Slander <24>\r\nAnd all that good and well-condition\u2019d be.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor here may I no longer now abide;\r\nI must follow the greate company,\r\nThat ye may see yonder before you ride.\u201d\r\nAnd forthwith, as I coulde, most humbly\r\nI took my leave of her, and she gan hie*                          *haste\r\nAfter them as fast as she ever might;\r\nAnd I drew homeward, for it was nigh night,\r\n\r\nAnd put all that I had seen in writing,\r\nUnder support of them that list it read. <25>\r\nO little book! thou art so uncunning,*                        *unskilful\r\nHow dar\u2019st thou put thyself in press, <26> for dread?\r\nIt is wonder that thou waxest not red!\r\nSince that thou know\u2019st full lite* who shall behold              *little\r\nThy rude language, full *boistously unfold.*     *unfolded in homely and\r\n                                                     unpolished fashion*\r\n\r\nExplicit.*                                                      *The End\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to the Flower and the Leaf\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The Bull: the sign of Taurus, which the sun enters\r\nin May.\r\n\r\n2. The young oak leaves are red or ashen coloured.\r\n\r\n3. Chaucer here again refers to the superstition,\r\nnoticed in \u201cThe Cuckoo and the Nightingale,\u201d that it\r\nwas of good omen to hear the nightingale before the\r\ncuckoo upon the advent of both with spring.\r\n\r\n4. The arbour was furnished with seats, which had\r\nbeen newly covered with turf.\r\n\r\n5. \u201cYede\u201d or \u201cyead,\u201d is the old form of go.\r\n\r\n6. Sote: fool \u2014 French \u201csot.\u201d\r\n\r\n7. See note 59 to The Court of Love\r\n\r\n8. Agnus castus:  the chaste-tree; a kind of willow.\r\n\r\n9. Roundell:  French, \u201crondeau;\u201d a song that comes\r\nround again to the verse with which it opened, or that\r\nis taken up in turn by each of the singers.\r\n\r\n10.  In modern French form, \u201cSous la feuille, devers\r\nmoi, son et mon joli coeur est endormi\u201d \u2014 \u201cUnder the\r\nfoliage, towards me, his and my jolly heart is gone to\r\nsleep.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. Prester John: The half-mythical Eastern potentate,\r\nwho is now supposed to have been, not a Christian\r\nmonarch of Abyssinia, but the head of the Indian\r\nempire before Zenghis Khan\u2019s conquest.\r\n\r\n12. Oak cerrial: of the species of oak which Pliny, in\r\nhis \u201cNatural History,\u201d calls \u201ccerrus.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. Tartarium: Cloth of Tars, or of Tortona.\r\n\r\n14. Bargaret: bergerette, or pastoral song.\r\n\r\n15. \u201cSi douce est la margarete.\u201d: \u201cSo sweet is the\r\ndaisy\u201d (\u201cla marguerite\u201d).\r\n\r\n16. To make their joustes:  the meaning is not very\r\nobvious; but in The Knight\u2019s Tale \u201cjousts and array\u201d\r\nare in some editions made part of the adornment of\r\nthe Temple of Venus; and as the word \u201cjousts\u201d would\r\nthere carry the general meaning of \u201cpreparations\u201d to\r\nentertain or please a lover, in the present case it may\r\nhave a similar force.\r\n\r\n17. Gramercy:  \u201cgrand merci,\u201d French; great thanks.\r\n\r\n18. The Nine Worthies, who at our day survive in the\r\nSeven Champions of Christendom. The Worthies\r\nwere favourite subjects for representation at popular\r\nfestivals or in masquerades.\r\n\r\n19. The famous Knights of King Arthur, who, being\r\nall esteemed equal in valour and noble qualities, sat at\r\na round table, so that none should seem to have\r\nprecedence over the rest.\r\n\r\n20. The twelve peers of Charlemagne (les douze\r\npairs), chief among whom were Roland and Oliver.\r\n\r\n21. Chaucer speaks as if, at least for the purposes of\r\nhis poetry, he believed that Edward III. did not\r\nestablish a new, but only revived an old, chivalric\r\ninstitution, when be founded the Order of the Garter.\r\n\r\n22. Laurer: laurel-tree; French, \u201claurier.\u201d\r\n\r\n23.  The meaning is: \u201cWitness the practice of Rome,\r\nthat was the founder of all knighthood and marvellous\r\ndeeds; and I refer for corroboration to Titus Livius\u201d  \u2014\r\nwho, in several passages, has mentioned the laurel\r\ncrown as the highest military honour. For instance, in\r\n1. vii. c. 13, Sextus Tullius, remonstrating for the\r\narmy against the inaction in which it is kept, tells the\r\nDictator Sulpicius, \u201cDuce te vincere cupimus; tibi\r\nlauream insignem deferre; tecum triumphantes urbem\r\ninire.\u201d (\u201cCommander, we want you to conquer; to\r\nbring you the laurel insignia; to enter the city with you\r\nin triumph\u201d)\r\n\r\n24. Malebouche:  Slander, personified under the title\r\nof Evil-mouth  \u2014 Italian, \u201cMalbocca;\u201d French,\r\n\u201cMalebouche.\u201d\r\n\r\n25. Under support of them that list it read: the phrase\r\nmeans \u2014  trusting to the goodwill of my reader.\r\n\r\n26. In press:  into a crowd, into the press of\r\ncompetitors for favour; not, it need hardly be said,\r\n\u201cinto the press\u201d in the modern sense \u2014 printing was\r\nnot invented for a century after this was written.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE HOUSE OF FAME\r\n\r\n\r\n[Thanks partly to Pope\u2019s brief and elegant paraphrase, in his\r\n\u201cTemple of Fame,\u201d and partly to the familiar force of the style\r\nand the satirical significance of the allegory, \u201cThe House of\r\nFame\u201d is among the best known and relished of Chaucer\u2019s minor\r\npoems. The octosyllabic measure in which it is written \u2014 the\r\nsame which the author of \u201cHudibras\u201d used with such admirable\r\neffect \u2014 is excellently adapted for the vivid descriptions, the\r\nlively sallies of humour and sarcasm, with which the poem\r\nabounds; and when the poet actually does get to his subject, he\r\ntreats it with a zest, and a corresponding interest on the part of\r\nthe reader, which are scarcely surpassed by the best of The\r\nCanterbury Tales. The poet, however, tarries long on the way\r\nto the House of Fame; as Pope says in his advertisement, the\r\nreader who would compare his with Chaucer\u2019s poem, \u201cmay\r\nbegin with [Chaucer\u2019s] third Book of Fame, there being nothing\r\nin the two first books that answers to their title.\u201d The first book\r\nopens with a kind of prologue (actually so marked and called in\r\nearlier editions) in which the author speculates on the causes of\r\ndreams; avers that never any man had such a dream as he had\r\non the tenth of December; and prays the God of Sleep to help\r\nhim to interpret the dream, and the Mover of all things to\r\nreward or afflict those readers who take the dream well or ill.\r\nThen he relates that, having fallen asleep, he fancied himself\r\nwithin a temple of glass \u2014 the abode of Venus \u2014 the walls of\r\nwhich were painted with the story of Aeneas. The paintings are\r\ndescribed at length; and then the poet tells us that, coming out\r\nof the temple, he found himself on a vast sandy plain, and saw\r\nhigh in heaven an eagle, that began to descend towards him.\r\nWith the prologue, the first book numbers 508 lines; of which\r\n192 only \u2014 more than are actually concerned with or directly\r\nlead towards the real subject of the poem \u2014 are given here. The\r\nsecond book, containing 582 lines, of which 176 will be found\r\nin this edition, is wholly devoted to the voyage from the Temple\r\nof Venus to the House of Fame, which the dreamer\r\naccomplishes in the eagle\u2019s claws. The bird has been sent by\r\nJove to do the poet some \u201csolace\u201d in reward of his labours for\r\nthe cause of Love; and during the transit through the air the\r\nmessenger discourses obligingly and learnedly with his human\r\nburden on the theory of sound, by which all that is spoken must\r\nneeds reach the House of Fame; and on other matters suggested\r\nby their errand and their observations by the way. The third\r\nbook (of 1080 lines, only a score of which, just at the outset,\r\nhave been omitted) brings us to the real pith of the poem. It\r\nfinds the poet close to the House of Fame, built on a rock of ice\r\nengraved with names, many of which are half-melted away.\r\nEntering the gorgeous palace, he finds all manner of minstrels\r\nand historians; harpers, pipers, and trumpeters of fame;\r\nmagicians, jugglers, sorcerers, and many others. On a throne of\r\nruby sits the goddess, seeming at one moment of but a cubit\u2019s\r\nstature, at the next touching heaven; and at either hand, on\r\npillars, stand the great authors who \u201cbear up the name\u201d of\r\nancient nations. Crowds of people enter the hall from all regions\r\nof earth, praying the goddess to give them good or evil fame,\r\nwith and without their own deserts; and they receive answers\r\nfavourable, negative, or contrary, according to the caprice of\r\nFame. Pursuing his researches further, out of the region of\r\nreputation or fame proper into that of tidings or rumours, the\r\npoet is led, by a man who has entered into conversation with\r\nhim, to a vast whirling house of twigs, ever open to the arrival\r\nof tidings, ever full of murmurings, whisperings, and clatterings,\r\ncoming from the vast crowds that fill it \u2014 for every rumour,\r\nevery piece of news, every false report, appears there in the\r\nshape of the person who utters it, or passes it on, down in earth.\r\nOut at the windows innumerable, the tidings pass to Fame, who\r\ngives to each report its name and duration; and in the house\r\ntravellers, pilgrims, pardoners, couriers, lovers, &c., make a\r\nhuge clamour. But here the poet meets with a man \u201cof great\r\nauthority,\u201d and, half afraid, awakes; skilfully  \u2014 whether by\r\nintention, fatigue, or accident \u2014 leaving the reader disappointed\r\nby the nonfulfilment of what seemed to be promises of further\r\ndisclosures. The poem, not least in the passages the omission of\r\nwhich has been dictated by the exigencies of the present\r\nvolume, is full of testimony to the vast acquaintance of Chaucer\r\nwith learning ancient and modern; Ovid, Virgil, Statius, are\r\nequally at his command to illustrate his narrative or to furnish\r\nthe ground-work of his descriptions; while architecture, the\r\nArabic numeration, the theory of sound, and the effects of\r\ngunpowder, are only a few among the topics of his own time of\r\nwhich the poet treats with the ease of proficient knowledge.\r\nNot least interesting are the vivid touches in which Chaucer\r\nsketches the routine of his laborious and almost recluse daily\r\nlife; while the strength, individuality, and humour that mark the\r\ndidactic portion of the poem prove that \u201cThe House of Fame\u201d\r\nwas one of the poet\u2019s riper productions.]\r\n\r\nGOD turn us ev\u2019ry dream to good!\r\nFor it is wonder thing, by the Rood,*                         *Cross <1>\r\nTo my witte, what causeth swevens,*                              *dreams\r\nEither on morrows or on evens;\r\nAnd why th\u2019effect followeth of some,\r\nAnd of some it shall never come;\r\nWhy this is an avision\r\nAnd this a revelation;\r\nWhy this a dream, why that a sweven,\r\nAnd not to ev\u2019ry man *like even;*                                *alike*\r\nWhy this a phantom, why these oracles,\r\nI n\u2019ot; but whoso of these miracles\r\nThe causes knoweth bet than I,\r\nDivine* he; for I certainly                                      *define\r\n*Ne can them not,* nor ever think                     *do not know them*\r\nTo busy my wit for to swink*                                     *labour\r\nTo know of their significance\r\nThe genders, neither the distance\r\nOf times of them, nor the causes\r\nFor why that this more than that cause is;\r\nOr if folke\u2019s complexions\r\nMake them dream of reflections;\r\nOr elles thus, as others sayn,\r\nFor too great feebleness of the brain\r\nBy abstinence, or by sickness,\r\nBy prison, strife, or great distress,\r\nOr elles by disordinance*                                   *derangement\r\nOf natural accustomance;*                                  *mode of life\r\nThat some men be too curious\r\nIn study, or melancholious,\r\nOr thus, so inly full of dread,\r\nThat no man may them *boote bede;*                  *afford them relief*\r\nOr elles that devotion\r\nOf some, and contemplation,\r\nCauseth to them such dreames oft;\r\nOr that the cruel life unsoft\r\nOf them that unkind loves lead,\r\nThat often hope much or dread,\r\nThat purely their impressions\r\nCause them to have visions;\r\nOr if that spirits have the might\r\nTo make folk to dream a-night;\r\nOr if the soul, of *proper kind,*                       *its own nature*\r\nBe so perfect as men find,\r\nThat it forewot* what is to come,                             *foreknows\r\nAnd that it warneth all and some\r\nOf ev\u2019reach of their adventures,\r\nBy visions, or by figures,\r\nBut that our fleshe hath no might\r\nTo understanden it aright,\r\nFor it is warned too darkly;\r\nBut why the cause is, not wot I.\r\nWell worth of this thing greate clerks, <2>\r\nThat treat of this and other works;\r\nFor I of none opinion\r\nWill as now make mention;\r\nBut only that the holy Rood\r\nTurn us every dream to good.\r\nFor never since that I was born,\r\nNor no man elles me beforn,\r\nMette,* as I trowe steadfastly,                                 *dreamed\r\nSo wonderful a dream as I,\r\nThe tenthe day now of December;\r\nThe which, as I can it remember,\r\nI will you tellen ev\u2019ry deal.*                                     *whit\r\n\r\nBut at my beginning, truste weel,*                                 *well\r\nI will make invocation,\r\nWith special devotion,\r\nUnto the god of Sleep anon,\r\nThat dwelleth in a cave of stone, <3>\r\nUpon a stream that comes from Lete,\r\nThat is a flood of hell unsweet,\r\nBeside a folk men call Cimmerie;\r\nThere sleepeth ay this god unmerry,\r\nWith his sleepy thousand sones,\r\nThat alway for to sleep their won* is;                     *wont, custom\r\nAnd to this god, that I *of read,*                             *tell of*\r\nPray I, that he will me speed\r\nMy sweven for to tell aright,\r\nIf ev\u2019ry dream stands in his might.\r\nAnd he that Mover is of all\r\nThat is, and was, and ever shall,\r\nSo give them joye that it hear,\r\nOf alle that they dream to-year;*                             *this year\r\nAnd for to standen all in grace*                                 *favour\r\nOf their loves, or in what place\r\nThat them were liefest* for to stand,                      *most desired\r\nAnd shield them from povert\u2019 and shand,*                          *shame\r\nAnd from ev\u2019ry unhap and disease,\r\nAnd send them all that may them please,\r\nThat take it well, and scorn it not,\r\nNor it misdeemen* in their thought,                            *misjudge\r\nThrough malicious intention;\r\nAnd whoso, through presumption.\r\nOr hate, or scorn, or through envy,\r\nDespite, or jape,* or villainy,                                 *jesting\r\nMisdeem it, pray I Jesus God,\r\nThat dream he barefoot, dream he shod,\r\nThat ev\u2019ry harm that any man\r\nHath had since that the world began,\r\nBefall him thereof, ere he sterve,*                                 *die\r\nAnd grant that he may it deserve,*                         *earn, obtain\r\nLo! with such a conclusion\r\nAs had of his avision\r\nCroesus, that was the king of Lyde,<4>\r\nThat high upon a gibbet died;\r\nThis prayer shall he have of me;\r\nI am *no bet in charity.*                           *no more charitable*\r\n\r\nNow hearken, as I have you said,\r\nWhat that I mette ere I abraid,*                                  *awoke\r\nOf December the tenthe day;\r\nWhen it was night to sleep I lay,\r\nRight as I was wont for to do\u2019n,\r\nAnd fell asleepe wonder soon,\r\nAs he that *weary was for go*<5>                  *was weary from going*\r\nOn pilgrimage miles two\r\nTo the corsaint* Leonard,                                 *relics of <6>\r\nTo make lithe that erst was hard.\r\nBut, as I slept, me mette I was\r\nWithin a temple made of glass;\r\nIn which there were more images\r\nOf gold, standing in sundry stages,\r\nAnd more riche tabernacles,\r\nAnd with pierrie* more pinnacles,                                  *gems\r\nAnd more curious portraitures,\r\nAnd *quainte manner* of figures                          *strange kinds*\r\nOf golde work, than I saw ever.\r\nBut, certainly, I wiste* never                                     *knew\r\nWhere that it was, but well wist I\r\nIt was of Venus readily,\r\nThis temple; for in portraiture\r\nI saw anon right her figure\r\nNaked floating in a sea, <7>\r\nAnd also on her head, pardie,\r\nHer rose garland white and red,\r\nAnd her comb to comb her head,\r\nHer doves, and Dan Cupido,\r\nHer blinde son, and Vulcano, <8>\r\nThat in his face was full brown.\r\n\r\nAs he \u201croamed up and down,\u201d the dreamer saw on the wall a\r\ntablet of brass inscribed with the opening lines of the Aeneid;\r\nwhile the whole story of Aeneas was told in the \u201cportraitures\u201d\r\nand gold work. About three hundred and fifty lines are devoted\r\nto the description; but they merely embody Virgil\u2019s account of\r\nAeneas\u2019 adventures from the destruction of Troy to his arrival in\r\nItaly; and the only characteristic passage is the following\r\nreflection, suggested by the death of Dido for her perfidious but\r\nfate-compelled guest:\r\n\r\nLo! how a woman doth amiss,\r\nTo love him that unknowen is!\r\nFor, by Christ, lo! thus it fareth,\r\nIt is not all gold that glareth.*                              *glitters\r\nFor, all so brook I well my head,\r\nThere may be under goodlihead*                          *fair appearance\r\nCover\u2019d many a shrewed* vice;                                    *cursed\r\nTherefore let no wight be so nice*                              *foolish\r\nTo take a love only for cheer,*                                   *looks\r\nOr speech, or for friendly mannere;\r\nFor this shall ev\u2019ry woman find,\r\nThat some man, *of his pure kind,*               *by force of his nature\r\nWill showen outward the fairest,\r\nTill he have caught that which him lest;*                       *pleases\r\nAnd then anon will causes find,\r\nAnd sweare how she is unkind,\r\nOr false, or privy* double was.                                *secretly\r\nAll this say I by* Aeneas                             *with reference to\r\nAnd Dido, and her *nice lest,*                        *foolish pleasure*\r\nThat loved all too soon a guest;\r\nTherefore I will say a proverb,\r\nThat he that fully knows the herb\r\nMay safely lay it to his eye;\r\nWithoute dread,* this is no lie.                                  *doubt\r\n\r\nWhen the dreamer had seen all the sights in the temple, he\r\nbecame desirous to know who had worked all those wonders,\r\nand in what country he was; so he resolved to go out at the\r\nwicket, in search of somebody who might tell him.\r\n\r\nWhen I out at the doores came,\r\nI fast aboute me beheld;\r\nThen saw I but a large feld,*                              *open country\r\nAs far as that I mighte see,\r\nWIthoute town, or house, or tree,\r\nOr bush, or grass, or ered* land,                          *ploughed <9>\r\nFor all the field was but of sand,\r\nAs small* as men may see it lie                                    *fine\r\nIn the desert of Libye;\r\nNor no manner creature\r\nThat is formed by Nature,\r\nThere saw I, me to *rede or wiss.*                    *advise or direct*\r\n\u201cO Christ!\u201d thought I, \u201cthat art in bliss,\r\nFrom *phantom and illusion*                   *vain fancy and deception*\r\nMe save!\u201d and with devotion\r\nMine eyen to the heav\u2019n I cast.\r\nThen was I ware at the last\r\nThat, faste by the sun on high,\r\n*As kennen might I* with mine eye,          *as well as I might discern*\r\nMe thought I saw an eagle soar,\r\nBut that it seemed muche more*                                   *larger\r\nThan I had any eagle seen;\r\nThis is as sooth as death, certain,\r\nIt was of gold, and shone so bright,\r\nThat never saw men such a sight,\r\nBut if* the heaven had y-won,                                    *unless\r\nAll new from God, another sun;\r\nSo shone the eagle\u2019s feathers bright:\r\nAnd somewhat downward gan it light.*                    *descend, alight\r\n\r\nThe Second Book opens with a brief invocation of Venus and\r\nof Thought; then it proceeds:\r\n\r\nThis eagle, of which I have you told,\r\nThat shone with feathers as of gold,\r\nWhich that so high began to soar,\r\nI gan beholde more and more,\r\nTo see her beauty and the wonder;\r\nBut never was there dint of thunder,\r\nNor that thing that men calle foudre,*                      *thunderbolt\r\nThat smote sometimes a town to powder,\r\nAnd in his swifte coming brenn\u2019d,*                               *burned\r\nThat so swithe* gan descend,                                    *rapidly\r\nAs this fowl, when that it beheld\r\nThat I a-roam was in the feld;\r\nAnd with his grim pawes strong,\r\nWithin his sharpe nailes long,\r\nMe, flying, at a swap* he hent,**                         *swoop *seized\r\nAnd with his sours <10> again up went,\r\nMe carrying in his clawes stark*                                 *strong\r\nAs light as I had been a lark,\r\nHow high, I cannot telle you,\r\nFor I came up, I wist not how.\r\n\r\nThe poet faints through bewilderment and fear; but the eagle,\r\nspeaking with the voice of a man, recalls him to himself, and\r\ncomforts him by the assurance that what now befalls him is for\r\nhis instruction and profit. Answering the poet\u2019s unspoken\r\ninquiry whether he is not to die otherwise, or whether Jove will\r\nhim stellify, the eagle says that he has been sent by Jupiter out\r\nof his \u201cgreat ruth,\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cFor that thou hast so truely\r\nSo long served ententively*                         *with attentive zeal\r\nHis blinde nephew* Cupido,                                     *grandson\r\nAnd faire Venus also,\r\nWithoute guuerdon ever yet,\r\nAnd natheless hast set thy wit\r\n(Although that in thy head full lite* is)                        *little\r\nTo make bookes, songs, and ditties,\r\nIn rhyme or elles in cadence,\r\nAs thou best canst, in reverence\r\nOf Love, and of his servants eke,\r\nThat have his service sought, and seek,\r\nAnd pained thee to praise his art,\r\nAlthough thou haddest never part; <11>\r\nWherefore, all so God me bless,\r\nJovis holds it great humbless,\r\nAnd virtue eke, that thou wilt make\r\nA-night full oft thy head to ache,\r\nIn thy study so thou writest,\r\nAnd evermore of love enditest,\r\nIn honour of him and praisings,\r\nAnd in his folke\u2019s furtherings,\r\nAnd in their matter all devisest,*                              *relates\r\nAnd not him nor his folk despisest,\r\nAlthough thou may\u2019st go in the dance\r\nOf them that him list not advance.\r\nWherefore, as I said now, y-wis,\r\nJupiter well considers this;\r\nAnd also, beausire,* other things;                             *good sir\r\nThat is, that thou hast no tidings\r\nOf Love\u2019s folk, if they be glad,\r\nNor of naught elles that God made;\r\nAnd not only from far country\r\nThat no tidings come to thee,\r\nBut of thy very neighebours,\r\nThat dwellen almost at thy doors,\r\nThou hearest neither that nor this.\r\nFor when thy labour all done is,\r\nAnd hast y-made thy reckonings, <12>\r\nInstead of rest and newe things,\r\nThou go\u2019st home to thy house anon,\r\nAnd, all so dumb as any stone,\r\nThou sittest at another book,\r\nTill fully dazed* is thy look;                                  *blinded\r\nAnd livest thus as a hermite\r\nAlthough thine abstinence is lite.\u201d* <13>                        *little\r\n\r\nTherefore has Jove appointed the eagle to take the poet to the\r\nHouse of Fame, to do him some pleasure in recompense for his\r\ndevotion to Cupid; and he will hear, says the bird,\r\n\r\n\u201cWhen we be come there as I say,\r\nMore wondrous thinges, dare I lay,*                                 *bet\r\nOf Love\u2019s folke more tidings,\r\nBoth *soothe sawes and leasings;*                *true sayings and lies*\r\nAnd more loves new begun,\r\nAnd long y-served loves won,\r\nAnd more loves casually\r\nThat be betid,* no man knows why,                    *happened by chance\r\nBut as a blind man starts a hare;\r\nAnd more jollity and welfare,\r\nWhile that they finde *love of steel,*              *love true as steel*\r\nAs thinketh them, and over all weel;\r\nMore discords, and more jealousies,\r\nMore murmurs, and more novelties,\r\nAnd more dissimulations,\r\nAnd feigned reparations;\r\nAnd more beardes, in two hours,\r\nWithoute razor or scissours\r\nY-made, <14> than graines be of sands;\r\nAnd eke more holding in hands,*                              *embracings\r\nAnd also more renovelances*                                   *renewings\r\nOf old *forleten acquaintances;*          *broken-off acquaintanceships*\r\nMore love-days,<15> and more accords,*                       *agreements\r\nThan on instruments be chords;\r\nAnd eke of love more exchanges\r\nThan ever cornes were in granges.\u201d*                               *barns\r\n\r\nThe poet can scarcely believe that, though Fame had all the pies\r\n[magpies] and all the spies in a kingdom, she should hear so\r\nmuch; but the eagle proceeds to prove that she can.\r\n\r\nFirst shalt thou heare where she dwelleth;\r\nAnd, so as thine own booke telleth, <16>\r\nHer palace stands, as I shall say,\r\nRight ev\u2019n in middes of the way\r\nBetweene heav\u2019n, and earth, and sea,\r\nThat whatsoe\u2019er in all these three\r\nIs spoken, *privy or apert,*                        *secretly or openly*\r\nThe air thereto is so overt,*                                     *clear\r\nAnd stands eke in so just* a place,                            *suitable\r\nThat ev\u2019ry sound must to it pace,\r\nOr whatso comes from any tongue,\r\nBe it rowned,* read, or sung,                                 *whispered\r\nOr spoken in surety or dread,*                                    *doubt\r\nCertain *it must thither need.\u201d*              *it must needs go thither*\r\n\r\nThe eagle, in a long discourse, demonstrates that, as all natural\r\nthings have a natural place towards which they move by natural\r\ninclination, and as sound is only broken air, so every sound\r\nmust come to Fame\u2019s House, \u201cthough it were piped of a mouse\u201d\r\n\u2014 on the same principle by which every part of a mass of water\r\nis affected by the casting in of a stone. The poet is all the while\r\nborne upward, entertained with various information by the bird;\r\nwhich at last cries out \u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cHold up thy head, for all is well!\r\nSaint Julian, lo! bon hostel! <17>\r\nSee here the House of Fame, lo\r\nMay\u2019st thou not heare that I do?\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat?\u201d quoth I. \u201cThe greate soun\u2019,\u201d\r\nQuoth he, \u201cthat rumbleth up and down\r\nIn Fame\u2019s House, full of tidings,\r\nBoth of fair speech and of chidings,\r\nAnd of false and sooth compouned;*                  *compounded, mingled\r\nHearken well; it is not rowned.*                              *whispered\r\nHearest thou not the greate swough?\u201d*                    *confused sound\r\n\u201cYes, pardie!\u201d quoth I, \u201cwell enough.\u201d\r\nAnd what sound is it like?\u201d quoth he\r\n\u201cPeter! the beating of the sea,\u201d\r\nQuoth I, \u201cagainst the rockes hollow,\r\nWhen tempests do the shippes swallow.\r\nAnd let a man stand, out of doubt,\r\nA mile thence, and hear it rout.*                                  *roar\r\nOr elles like the last humbling*                 *dull low distant noise\r\nAfter the clap of a thund\u2019ring,\r\nWhen Jovis hath the air y-beat;\r\nBut it doth me for feare sweat.\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, dread thee not thereof,\u201d quoth he;\r\n\u201cIt is nothing will bite thee,\r\nThou shalt no harme have, truly.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word both he and I\r\nAs nigh the place arrived were,\r\nAs men might caste with a spear.\r\nI wist not how, but in a street\r\nHe set me fair upon my feet,\r\nAnd saide: \u201cWalke forth apace,\r\nAnd take *thine adventure or case,*                  *thy chance of what\r\nThat thou shalt find in Fame\u2019s place.\u201d                       may befall*\r\n\u201cNow,\u201d quoth I, \u201cwhile we have space\r\nTo speak, ere that I go from thee,\r\nFor the love of God, as telle me,\r\nIn sooth, that I will of thee lear,*                              *learn\r\nIf this noise that I hear\r\nBe, as I have heard thee tell,\r\nOf folk that down in earthe dwell,\r\nAnd cometh here in the same wise\r\nAs I thee heard, ere this, devise?\r\nAnd that there living body n\u2019is*                                 *is not\r\nIn all that house that yonder is,\r\nThat maketh all this loude fare?\u201d*                          *hubbub, ado\r\n\u201cNo,\u201d answered he, \u201cby Saint Clare,\r\nAnd all *so wisly God rede me;*                           *so surely god\r\nBut one thing I will warne thee,                               guide me*\r\nOf the which thou wilt have wonder.\r\nLo! to the House of Fame yonder,\r\nThou know\u2019st how cometh ev\u2019ry speech;\r\nIt needeth not thee eft* to teach.                                *again\r\nBut understand now right well this;\r\nWhen any speech y-comen is\r\nUp to the palace, anon right\r\nIt waxeth* like the same wight**                       *becomes **person\r\nWhich that the word in earthe spake,\r\nBe he cloth\u2019d in red or black;\r\nAnd so weareth his likeness,\r\nAnd speaks the word, that thou wilt guess*                        *fancy\r\nThat it the same body be,\r\nWhether man or woman, he or she.\r\nAnd is not this a wondrous thing?\u201d\r\n\u201cYes,\u201d quoth I then, \u201cby Heaven\u2019s king!\u201d\r\nAnd with this word, \u201cFarewell,\u201d quoth he,\r\nAnd here I will abide* thee,                                   *wait for\r\nAnd God of Heaven send thee grace\r\nSome good to learen* in this place.\u201d                              *learn\r\nAnd I of him took leave anon,\r\nAnd gan forth to the palace go\u2019n.\r\n\r\nAt the opening of the Third Book, Chaucer briefly invokes\r\nApollo\u2019s guidance, and entreats him, because \u201cthe rhyme is light\r\nand lewd,\u201d to \u201cmake it somewhat agreeable, though some verse\r\nfail in a syllable.\u201d If the god answers the prayer, the poet\r\npromises to kiss the next laurel-tree <18> he sees; and he\r\nproceeds:\r\n\r\nWhen I was from this eagle gone,\r\nI gan behold upon this place;\r\nAnd certain, ere I farther pace,\r\nI will you all the shape devise*                               *describe\r\nOf house and city; and all the wise\r\nHow I gan to this place approach,\r\nThat stood upon so high a roche,*                             *rock <19>\r\nHigher standeth none in Spain;\r\nBut up I climb\u2019d with muche pain,\r\nAnd though to climbe *grieved me,*              *cost me painful effort*\r\nYet I ententive* was to see,                                  *attentive\r\nAnd for to pore* wondrous low,                             *gaze closely\r\nIf I could any wise know\r\nWhat manner stone this rocke was,\r\nFor it was like a thing of glass,\r\nBut that it shone full more clear\r\nBut of what congealed mattere\r\nIt was, I wist not readily,\r\nBut at the last espied I,\r\nAnd found that it was *ev\u2019ry deal*                            *entirely*\r\nA rock of ice, and not of steel.\r\nThought I, \u201cBy Saint Thomas of Kent, <20>\r\nThis were a feeble fundament*                                *foundation\r\n*To builden* a place so high;                         *on which to build\r\nHe ought him lite* to glorify                                    *little\r\nThat hereon built, God so me save!\u201d\r\n\r\nThen saw I all the half y-grave <21>\r\nWith famous folke\u2019s names fele,*                                   *many\r\nThat hadde been in muche weal,*                            *good fortune\r\nAnd their fames wide y-blow.\r\nBut well unnethes* might I know                                *scarcely\r\nAny letters for to read\r\nTheir names by; for out of dread*                                 *doubt\r\nThey were almost off thawed so,\r\nThat of the letters one or two\r\nWere molt* away of ev\u2019ry name,                                   *melted\r\nSo unfamous was wox* their fame;                                 *become\r\nBut men say, \u201cWhat may ever last?\u201d\r\nThen gan I in my heart to cast*                              *conjecture\r\nThat they were molt away for heat,\r\nAnd not away with stormes beat;\r\nFor on the other side I sey*                                        *saw\r\nOf this hill, that northward lay,\r\nHow it was written full of names\r\nOf folke that had greate fames\r\nOf olde times, and yet they were\r\nAs fresh as men had writ them there\r\nThe selfe day, right ere that hour\r\nThat I upon them gan to pore.\r\nBut well I wiste what it made;*                                   *meant\r\nIt was conserved with the shade,\r\nAll the writing which I sigh,*                                      *saw\r\nOf a castle that stood on high;\r\nAnd stood eke on so cold a place,\r\nThat heat might it not deface.*                         *injure, destroy\r\n\r\nThen gan I on this hill to go\u2019n,\r\nAnd found upon the cop* a won,**                    *summit <22> **house\r\nThat all the men that be alive\r\nHave not the *cunning to descrive*                   *skill to describe*\r\nThe beauty of that like place,\r\nNor coulde *caste no compass*                      *find no contrivance*\r\nSuch another for to make,\r\nThat might of beauty be its make,*                         *match, equal\r\nNor one so wondrously y-wrought,\r\nThat it astonieth yet my thought,\r\nAnd maketh all my wit to swink,*                                 *labour\r\nUpon this castle for to think;\r\nSo that the greate beauty,\r\nCast,* craft, and curiosity,                                  *ingenuity\r\nNe can I not to you devise;*                                   *describe\r\nMy witte may me not suffice.\r\nBut natheless all the substance\r\nI have yet in my remembrance;\r\nFor why, me thoughte, by Saint Gile,\r\nAlle was of stone of beryle,\r\nBothe the castle and the tow\u2019r,\r\nAnd eke the hall, and ev\u2019ry bow\u2019r,*                             *chamber\r\nWithoute pieces or joinings,\r\nBut many subtile compassings,*                             *contrivances\r\nAs barbicans* and pinnacles,                               *watch-towers\r\nImageries and tabernacles,\r\nI saw; and eke full of windows,\r\nAs flakes fall in greate snows.\r\nAnd eke in each of the pinnacles\r\nWere sundry habitacles,*                           *apartments or niches\r\nIn which stooden, all without,\r\nFull the castle all about,\r\nOf all manner of minstrales\r\nAnd gestiours,<23> that telle tales\r\nBoth of weeping and of game,*                                     *mirth\r\nOf all that longeth unto Fame.\r\n\r\nThere heard I play upon a harp,\r\nThat sounded bothe well and sharp,\r\nHim, Orpheus, full craftily;\r\nAnd on this side faste by\r\nSatte the harper Arion,<24>\r\nAnd eke Aeacides Chiron <25>\r\nAnd other harpers many a one,\r\nAnd the great Glasgerion; <26>\r\nAnd smalle harpers, with their glees,*                      *instruments\r\nSatten under them in sees,*                                       *seats\r\nAnd gan on them upward to gape,\r\nAnd counterfeit them as an ape,\r\nOr as *craft counterfeiteth kind.*             *art counterfeits nature*\r\nThen saw I standing them behind,\r\nAfar from them, all by themselve,\r\nMany thousand times twelve,\r\nThat made loude minstrelsies\r\nIn cornmuse and eke in shawmies, <27>\r\nAnd in many another pipe,\r\nThat craftily began to pipe,\r\nBoth in dulcet <28> and in reed,\r\nThat be at feastes with the bride.\r\nAnd many a flute and lilting horn,\r\nAnd pipes made of greene corn,\r\nAs have these little herde-grooms,*                       *shepherd-boys\r\nThat keepe beastes in the brooms.\r\nThere saw I then Dan Citherus,\r\nAnd of Athens Dan Pronomus, <29>\r\nAnd Marsyas <30> that lost his skin,\r\nBoth in the face, body, and chin,\r\nFor that he would envyen, lo!\r\nTo pipe better than Apollo.\r\nThere saw I famous, old and young,\r\nPipers of alle Dutche tongue, <31>\r\nTo learne love-dances and springs,\r\nReyes, <32> and these strange things.\r\nThen saw I in another place,\r\nStanding in a large space,\r\nOf them that make bloody* soun\u2019,                                *martial\r\nIn trumpet, beam,* and clarioun;                              *horn <33>\r\nFor in fight and blood-sheddings\r\nIs used gladly clarionings.\r\nThere heard I trumpe Messenus. <34>\r\nOf whom speaketh Virgilius.\r\nThere heard I Joab trump also, <35>\r\nTheodamas, <36> and other mo\u2019,\r\nAnd all that used clarion\r\nIn Catalogne and Aragon,\r\nThat in their times famous were\r\nTo learne, saw I trumpe there.\r\nThere saw I sit in other sees,\r\nPlaying upon sundry glees,\r\nWhiche that I cannot neven,*                                       *name\r\nMore than starres be in heaven;\r\nOf which I will not now rhyme,\r\nFor ease of you, and loss of time:\r\nFor time lost, this knowe ye,\r\nBy no way may recover\u2019d be.\r\n\r\nThere saw I play jongelours,*                             *jugglers <37>\r\nMagicians, and tregetours,<38>\r\nAnd Pythonesses, <39>  charmeresses,\r\nAnd old witches, and sorceresses,\r\nThat use exorcisations,\r\nAnd eke subfumigations; <40>\r\nAnd clerkes* eke, which knowe well                             *scholars\r\nAll this magic naturel,\r\nThat craftily do their intents,\r\nTo make, in certain ascendents, <41>\r\nImages, lo! through which magic\r\nTo make a man be whole or sick.\r\nThere saw I the queen Medea, <42>\r\nAnd Circes <43> eke, and Calypsa.<44>\r\nThere saw I Hermes Ballenus, <45>\r\nLimote, <46> and eke Simon Magus. <47>\r\nThere saw I, and knew by name,\r\nThat by such art do men have fame.\r\nThere saw I Colle Tregetour <46>\r\nUpon a table of sycamore\r\nPlay an uncouth* thing to tell;                           *strange, rare\r\nI saw him carry a windmell\r\nUnder a walnut shell.\r\nWhy should I make longer tale\r\nOf all the people I there say,*                                     *saw\r\nFrom hence even to doomesday?\r\n\r\nWhen I had all this folk behold,\r\nAnd found me *loose, and not y-hold,*      *at liberty and unrestrained*\r\nAnd I had mused longe while\r\nUpon these walles of beryle,\r\nThat shone lighter than any glass,\r\nAnd made *well more* than it was                           *much greater\r\nTo seemen ev\u2019rything, y-wis,\r\nAs kindly* thing of Fame it is; <48>                            *natural\r\nI gan forth roam until I fand*                                    *found\r\nThe castle-gate on my right hand,\r\nWhich all so well y-carven was,\r\nThat never such another n\u2019as;*                                  *was not\r\nAnd yet it was by Adventure*                                     *chance\r\nY-wrought, and not by *subtile cure.*                      *careful art*\r\nIt needeth not you more to tell,\r\nTo make you too longe dwell,\r\nOf these gates\u2019 flourishings,\r\nNor of compasses,* nor carvings,                                *devices\r\nNor how they had in masonries,\r\nAs corbets, <49> full of imageries.\r\nBut, Lord! so fair it was to shew,\r\nFor it was all with gold behew.*                               *coloured\r\nBut in I went, and that anon;\r\nThere met I crying many a one\r\n\u201cA largess! largess! <50> hold up well!\r\nGod save the Lady of this pell,*                                 *palace\r\nOur owen gentle Lady Fame,\r\nAnd them that will to have name\r\nOf us!\u201d Thus heard I cryen all,\r\nAnd fast they came out of the hall,\r\nAnd shooke *nobles and sterlings,*                           *coins <51>\r\nAnd some y-crowned were as kings,\r\nWith crownes wrought fall of lozenges;\r\nAnd many ribands, and many fringes,\r\nWere on their clothes truely\r\nThen at the last espied I\r\nThat pursuivantes and herauds,*                                 *heralds\r\nThat cry riche folke\u2019s lauds,*                                  *praises\r\nThey weren all; and ev\u2019ry man\r\nOf them, as I you telle can,\r\nHad on him throwen a vesture\r\nWhich that men call a coat-armure, <52>\r\nEmbroidered wondrously rich,\r\nAs though there were *naught y-lich;*                  *nothing like it*\r\nBut naught will I, so may I thrive,\r\n*Be aboute to descrive*                 *concern myself with describing*\r\nAll these armes that there were,\r\nThat they thus on their coates bare,\r\nFor it to me were impossible;\r\nMen might make of them a bible\r\nTwenty foote thick, I trow.\r\nFor, certain, whoso coulde know\r\nMight there all the armes see\u2019n\r\nOf famous folk that have been\r\nIn Afric\u2019, Europe, and Asie,\r\nSince first began the chivalry.\r\n\r\nLo! how should I now tell all this?\r\nNor of the hall eke what need is\r\nTo telle you that ev\u2019ry wall\r\nOf it, and floor, and roof, and all,\r\nWas plated half a foote thick\r\nOf gold, and that was nothing wick\u2019,*                       *counterfeit\r\nBut for to prove in alle wise\r\nAs fine as ducat of Venise, <53>\r\nOf which too little in my pouch is?\r\nAnd they were set as thick of nouches*                        *ornaments\r\nFine, of the finest stones fair,\r\nThat men read in the Lapidaire, <54>\r\nAs grasses growen in a mead.\r\nBut it were all too long to read*                               *declare\r\nThe names; and therefore I pass.\r\nBut in this rich and lusty place,\r\nThat Fame\u2019s Hall y-called was,\r\nFull muche press of folk there n\u2019as,*                           *was not\r\nNor crowding for too muche press.\r\nBut all on high, above a dais,\r\nSet on a see* imperial, <55>                                       *seat\r\nThat made was of ruby all,\r\nWhich that carbuncle is y-call\u2019d,\r\nI saw perpetually install\u2019d\r\nA feminine creature;\r\nThat never formed by Nature\r\nWas such another thing y-sey.*                                     *seen\r\nFor altherfirst,* sooth to say,                            *first of all\r\nMe thoughte that she was so lite,*                               *little\r\nThat the length of a cubite\r\nWas longer than she seem\u2019d to be;\r\nBut thus soon in a while she\r\nHerself then wonderfully stretch\u2019d,\r\nThat with her feet the earth she reach\u2019d,\r\nAnd with her head she touched heaven,\r\nWhere as shine the starres seven. <56>\r\nAnd thereto* eke, as to my wit,                                *moreover\r\nI saw a greater wonder yet,\r\nUpon her eyen to behold;\r\nBut certes I them never told.\r\nFor *as fele eyen* hadde she,                             *as many eyes*\r\nAs feathers upon fowles be,\r\nOr were on the beastes four\r\nThat Godde\u2019s throne gan honour,\r\nAs John writ in th\u2019Apocalypse. <57>\r\nHer hair, that *oundy was and crips,*              *wavy <58> and crisp*\r\nAs burnish\u2019d gold it shone to see;\r\nAnd, sooth to tellen, also she\r\nHad all so fele* upstanding ears,                                  *many\r\nAnd tongues, as on beasts be hairs;\r\nAnd on her feet waxen saw I\r\nPartridges\u2019 winges readily.<59>\r\nBut, Lord! the pierrie* and richess                     *gems, jewellery\r\nI saw sitting on this goddess,\r\nAnd the heavenly melody\r\nOf songes full of harmony,\r\nI heard about her throne y-sung,\r\nThat all the palace walles rung!\r\n(So sung the mighty Muse, she\r\nThat called is Calliope,\r\nAnd her eight sisteren* eke,                                    *sisters\r\nThat in their faces seeme meek);\r\nAnd evermore eternally\r\nThey sang of Fame as then heard I:\r\n\u201cHeried* be thou and thy name,                                  *praised\r\nGoddess of Renown and Fame!\u201d\r\nThen was I ware, lo! at the last,\r\nAs I mine eyen gan upcast,\r\nThat this ilke noble queen\r\nOn her shoulders gan sustene*                                   *sustain\r\nBoth the armes, and the name\r\nOf those that hadde large fame;\r\nAlexander, and Hercules,\r\nThat with a shirt his life lese.* <60>                             *lost\r\nThus found I sitting this goddess,\r\nIn noble honour and richess;\r\nOf which I stint* a while now,                  *refrain (from speaking)\r\nOf other things to telle you.\r\n\r\nThen saw I stand on either side,\r\nStraight down unto the doores wide,\r\nFrom the dais, many a pillere\r\nOf metal, that shone not full clear;\r\nBut though they were of no richess,\r\nYet were they made for great nobless,\r\nAnd in them greate sentence.*                              *significance\r\nAnd folk of digne* reverence,                             *worthy, lofty\r\nOf which *I will you telle fand,*               *I will try to tell you*\r\nUpon the pillars saw I stand.\r\nAltherfirst, lo! there I sigh*                                      *saw\r\nUpon a pillar stand on high,\r\nThat was of lead and iron fine,\r\nHim of the secte Saturnine, <61>\r\nThe Hebrew Josephus the old,\r\nThat of Jewes\u2019 gestes* told;                            *deeds of braver\r\nAnd he bare on his shoulders high\r\nAll the fame up of Jewry.\r\nAnd by him stooden other seven,\r\nFull wise and worthy for to neven,*                                *name\r\nTo help him bearen up the charge,*                               *burden\r\nIt was so heavy and so large.\r\nAnd, for they writen of battailes,\r\nAs well as other old marvailes,\r\nTherefore was, lo! this pillere,\r\nOf which that I you telle here,\r\nOf lead and iron both, y-wis;\r\nFor iron Marte\u2019s metal is, <62>\r\nWhich that god is of battaile;\r\nAnd eke the lead, withoute fail,\r\nIs, lo! the metal of Saturn,\r\nThat hath full large wheel* to turn.                              *orbit\r\nThen stoode forth, on either row,\r\nOf them which I coulde know,\r\nThough I them not by order tell,\r\nTo make you too longe dwell.\r\nThese, of the which I gin you read,\r\nThere saw I standen, out of dread,\r\nUpon an iron pillar strong,\r\nThat painted was all endelong*                      *from top to bottom*\r\nWith tiger\u2019s blood in ev\u2019ry place,\r\nThe Tholosan that highte Stace, <63>\r\nThat bare of Thebes up the name\r\nUpon his shoulders, and the fame\r\nAlso of cruel Achilles.\r\nAnd by him stood, withoute lease,*                            *falsehood\r\nFull wondrous high on a pillere\r\nOf iron, he, the great Homere;\r\nAnd with him Dares and Dytus, <64>\r\nBefore, and eke he, Lollius, <65>\r\nAnd Guido eke de Colempnis, <66>\r\nAnd English Gaufrid <67> eke, y-wis.\r\nAnd each of these, as I have joy,\r\nWas busy for to bear up Troy;\r\nSo heavy thereof was the fame,\r\nThat for to bear it was no game.\r\nBut yet I gan full well espy,\r\nBetwixt them was a little envy.\r\nOne said that Homer made lies,\r\nFeigning in his poetries,\r\nAnd was to the Greeks favourable;\r\nTherefore held he it but a fable.\r\nThen saw I stand on a pillere\r\nThat was of tinned iron clear,\r\nHim, the Latin poet Virgile,\r\nThat borne hath up a longe while\r\nThe fame of pious Aeneas.\r\nAnd next him on a pillar was\r\nOf copper, Venus\u2019 clerk Ovide,\r\nThat hath y-sowen wondrous wide\r\nThe greate god of Love\u2019s fame.\r\nAnd there he bare up well his name\r\nUpon this pillar all so high,\r\nAs I might see it with mine eye;\r\nFor why? this hall whereof I read\r\nWas waxen in height, and length, and bread,*                    *breadth\r\nWell more by a thousand deal*                                     *times\r\nThan it was erst, that saw I weel.\r\nThen saw I on a pillar by,\r\nOf iron wrought full sternely,\r\nThe greate poet, Dan Lucan,\r\nThat on his shoulders bare up than,\r\nAs high as that I might it see,\r\nThe fame of Julius and Pompey; <68>\r\nAnd by him stood all those clerks\r\nThat write of Rome\u2019s mighty works,\r\nThat if I would their names tell,\r\nAll too longe must I dwell.\r\nAnd next him on a pillar stood\r\nOf sulphur, like as he were wood,*                                  *mad\r\nDan Claudian, <69> the sooth to tell,\r\nThat bare up all the fame of hell,\r\nOf Pluto, and of Proserpine,\r\nThat queen is of *the darke pine*               *the dark realm of pain*\r\nWhy should I telle more of this?\r\nThe hall was alle fulle, y-wis,\r\nOf them that writen olde gests,*               *histories of great deeds\r\nAs be on trees rookes\u2019 nests;\r\nBut it a full confus\u2019d mattere\r\nWere all these gestes for to hear,\r\nThat they of write, and how they hight.*                     *are called\r\n\r\n But while that I beheld this sight,\r\nI heard a noise approache blive,*                               *quickly\r\nThat far\u2019d* as bees do in a hive,                                  *went\r\nAgainst their time of outflying;\r\nRight such a manner murmuring,\r\nFor all the world, it seem\u2019d to me.\r\nThen gan I look about, and see\r\nThat there came entering the hall\r\nA right great company withal,\r\nAnd that of sundry regions,\r\nOf all kinds and conditions\r\nThat dwell in earth under the moon,\r\nBoth poor and rich; and all so soon\r\nAs they were come into the hall,\r\nThey gan adown on knees to fall,\r\nBefore this ilke* noble queen,                                     *same\r\nAnd saide, \u201cGrant us, Lady sheen,*                       *bright, lovely\r\nEach of us of thy grace a boon.\u201d*                                *favour\r\nAnd some of them she granted soon,\r\nAnd some she warned* well and fair,                             *refused\r\nAnd some she granted the contrair*                             *contrary\r\nOf their asking utterly;\r\nBut this I say you truely,\r\nWhat that her cause was, I n\u2019ist;*                   *wist not, know not\r\nFor of these folk full well I wist,\r\nThey hadde good fame each deserved,\r\nAlthough they were diversely served.\r\nRight as her sister, Dame Fortune,\r\nIs wont to serven *in commune.*                      *commonly, usually*\r\n\r\nNow hearken how she gan to pay\r\nThem that gan of her grace to pray;\r\nAnd right, lo! all this company\r\nSaide sooth,* and not a lie.                                      *truth\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d thus quoth they, \u201cwe be\r\nFolk that here beseeche thee\r\nThat thou grant us now good fame,\r\nAnd let our workes have good name\r\nIn full recompensatioun\r\nOf good work, give us good renown\r\n\u201cI warn* it you,\u201d quoth she anon;                                *refuse\r\n\u201cYe get of me good fame none,\r\nBy God! and therefore go your way.\u201d\r\n\u201cAlas,\u201d quoth they, \u201cand well-away!\r\nTell us what may your cause be.\u201d\r\n\u201cFor that it list* me not,\u201d quoth she,                          *pleases\r\nNo wight shall speak of you, y-wis,\r\nGood nor harm, nor that nor this.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word she gan to call\r\nHer messenger, that was in hall,\r\nAnd bade that he should faste go\u2019n,\r\nUpon pain to be blind anon,\r\nFor Aeolus, the god of wind;\r\n\u201cIn Thrace there ye shall him find,\r\nAnd bid him bring his clarioun,\r\nThat is full diverse of his soun\u2019,\r\nAnd it is called Cleare Laud,\r\nWith which he wont is to heraud*                               *proclaim\r\nThem that me list y-praised be,\r\nAnd also bid him how that he\r\nBring eke his other clarioun,\r\nThat hight* Slander in ev\u2019ry town,                            *is called\r\nWith which he wont is to diffame*                     *defame, disparage\r\nThem that me list, and do them shame.\u201d\r\nThis messenger gan faste go\u2019n,\r\nAnd found where, in a cave of stone,\r\nIn a country that highte Thrace,\r\nThis Aeolus, *with harde grace,*               *Evil favour attend him!*\r\nHelde the windes in distress,*                               *constraint\r\nAnd gan them under him to press,\r\nThat they began as bears to roar,\r\nHe bound and pressed them so sore.\r\nThis messenger gan fast to cry,\r\n\u201cRise up,\u201d quoth he, \u201cand fast thee hie,\r\nUntil thou at my Lady be,\r\nAnd take thy clarions eke with thee,\r\nAnd speed thee forth.\u201d And he anon\r\nTook to him one that hight Triton, <70>\r\nHis clarions to beare tho,*                                        *then\r\nAnd let a certain winde go,\r\nThat blew so hideously and high,\r\nThat it lefte not a sky*                                     *cloud <71>\r\nIn all the welkin* long and broad.                                  *sky\r\nThis Aeolus nowhere abode*                                      *delayed\r\nTill he was come to Fame\u2019s feet,\r\nAnd eke the man that Triton hete,*                            *is called\r\nAnd there he stood as still as stone.\r\n\r\nAnd therewithal there came anon\r\nAnother huge company\r\nOf goode folk, and gan to cry,\r\n\u201cLady, grant us goode fame,\r\nAnd let our workes have that name,\r\nNow in honour of gentleness;\r\nAnd all so God your soule bless;\r\nFor we have well deserved it,\r\nTherefore is right we be well quit.\u201d*                          *requited\r\n\u201cAs thrive I,\u201d quoth she, \u201cye shall fail;\r\nGood workes shall you not avail\r\nTo have of me good fame as now;\r\nBut, wot ye what, I grante you.\r\nThat ye shall have a shrewde* fame,                        *evil, cursed\r\nAnd wicked los,* and worse name,                        *reputation <72>\r\nThough ye good los have well deserv\u2019d;\r\nNow go your way, for ye be serv\u2019d.\r\nAnd now, Dan Aeolus,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cTake forth thy trump anon, let see,\r\nThat is y-called Slander light,\r\nAnd blow their los, that ev\u2019ry wight\r\nSpeak of them harm and shrewedness,*                 *wickedness, malice\r\nInstead of good and worthiness;\r\nFor thou shalt trump all the contrair\r\nOf that they have done, well and fair.\u201d\r\nAlas! thought I, what adventures*                       *(evil) fortunes\r\nHave these sorry creatures,\r\nThat they, amonges all the press,\r\nShould thus be shamed guilteless?\r\nBut what! it muste needes be.\r\nWhat did this Aeolus, but he\r\nTook out his blacke trump of brass,\r\nThat fouler than the Devil was,\r\nAnd gan this trumpet for to blow,\r\nAs all the world \u2019t would overthrow.\r\nThroughout every regioun\r\nWent this foule trumpet\u2019s soun\u2019,\r\nAs swift as pellet out of gun\r\nWhen fire is in the powder run.\r\nAnd such a smoke gan out wend,*                                      *go\r\nOut of this foule trumpet\u2019s end,\r\nBlack, blue, greenish, swart,* and red,                      *black <73>\r\nAs doth when that men melt lead,\r\nLo! all on high from the tewell;*                          *chimney <74>\r\nAnd thereto* one thing saw I well,                                 *also\r\nThat the farther that it ran,\r\nThe greater waxen it began,\r\nAs doth the river from a well,*                                *fountain\r\nAnd it stank as the pit of hell.\r\nAlas! thus was their shame y-rung,\r\nAnd guilteless, on ev\u2019ry tongue.\r\n\r\nThen came the thirde company,\r\nAnd gan up to the dais to hie,*                                  *hasten\r\nAnd down on knees they fell anon,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cWe be ev\u2019ry one\r\nFolk that have full truely\r\nDeserved fame right fully,\r\nAnd pray you that it may be know\r\nRight as it is, and forth y-blow.\u201d\r\n\u201cI grante,\u201d quoth she, \u201cfor me list\r\nThat now your goode works be wist;*                               *known\r\nAnd yet ye shall have better los,\r\nIn despite of all your foes,\r\nThan worthy* is, and that anon.                                 *merited\r\nLet now,\u201d quoth she, \u201cthy trumpet go\u2019n,\r\nThou Aeolus, that is so black,\r\nAnd out thine other trumpet take,\r\nThat highte Laud, and blow it so\r\nThat through the world their fame may go,\r\nEasily and not too fast,\r\nThat it be knowen at the last.\u201d\r\n\u201cFull gladly, Lady mine,\u201d he said;\r\nAnd out his trump of gold he braid*                        *pulled forth\r\nAnon, and set it to his mouth,\r\nAnd blew it east, and west, and south,\r\nAnd north, as loud as any thunder,\r\nThat ev\u2019ry wight had of it wonder,\r\nSo broad it ran ere that it stent.*                              *ceased\r\nAnd certes all the breath that went\r\nOut of his trumpet\u2019s mouthe smell\u2019d\r\nAs* men a pot of balme held                                       *as if\r\nAmong a basket full of roses;\r\nThis favour did he to their loses.*                         *reputations\r\n\r\nAnd right with this I gan espy\r\nWhere came the fourthe company.\r\nBut certain they were wondrous few;\r\nAnd gan to standen in a rew,*                                       *row\r\nAnd saide, \u201cCertes, Lady bright,\r\nWe have done well with all our might,\r\nBut we *not keep* to have fame;                                *care not\r\nHide our workes and our name,\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love! for certes we\r\nHave surely done it for bounty,*                       *goodness, virtue\r\nAnd for no manner other thing.\u201d\r\n\u201cI grante you all your asking,\u201d\r\nQuoth she; \u201clet your workes be dead.\u201d\r\n\r\nWith that I turn\u2019d about my head,\r\nAnd saw anon the fifthe rout,*                                  *company\r\nThat to this Lady gan to lout,*                                *bow down\r\nAnd down on knees anon to fall;\r\nAnd to her then besoughten all\r\nTo hide their good workes eke,\r\nAnd said, they gave* not a leek                                   *cared\r\nFor no fame, nor such renown;\r\nFor they for contemplatioun\r\nAnd Godde\u2019s love had y-wrought,\r\nNor of fame would they have aught.\r\n\u201cWhat!\u201d quoth she, \u201cand be ye wood?\r\nAnd *weene ye* for to do good,                           *do ye imagine*\r\nAnd for to have of that no fame?\r\n*Have ye despite* to have my name?                       *do ye despise*\r\nNay, ye shall lie every one!\r\nBlow thy trump, and that anon,\u201d\r\nQuoth she, \u201cthou Aeolus, I hote,*                               *command\r\nAnd ring these folkes works by note,\r\nThat all the world may of it hear.\u201d\r\nAnd he gan blow their los* so clear                          *reputation\r\nWithin his golden clarioun,\r\nThat through the worlde went the soun\u2019,\r\nAll so kindly, and so soft,\r\nThat their fame was blown aloft.\r\n\r\nAnd then came the sixth company,\r\nAnd gunnen* fast on Fame to cry;                                  *began\r\nRight verily in this mannere\r\nThey saide; \u201cMercy, Lady dear!\r\nTo telle certain as it is,\r\nWe have done neither that nor this,\r\nBut idle all our life hath be;*                                    *been\r\nBut natheless yet praye we\r\nThat we may have as good a fame,\r\nAnd great renown, and knowen* name,                          *well-known\r\nAs they that have done noble gests,*                             *feats.\r\nAnd have achieved all their quests,*               *enterprises; desires\r\nAs well of Love, as other thing;\r\nAll* was us never brooch, nor ring,                            *although\r\nNor elles aught from women sent,\r\nNor ones in their hearte meant\r\nTo make us only friendly cheer,\r\nBut mighte *teem us upon bier;*                *might lay us on our bier\r\nYet let us to the people seem              (by their adverse demeanour)*\r\nSuch as the world may of us deem,*                                *judge\r\nThat women loven us for wood.*                                    *madly\r\nIt shall us do as muche good,\r\nAnd to our heart as much avail,\r\nThe counterpoise,* ease, and travail,                      *compensation\r\nAs we had won it with labour;\r\nFor that is deare bought honour,\r\n*At the regard of* our great ease.                  *in comparison with*\r\n*And yet* ye must us more please;                          *in addition*\r\nLet us be holden eke thereto\r\nWorthy, and wise, and good also,\r\nAnd rich, and happy unto love,\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, that sits above;\r\nThough we may not the body have\r\nOf women, yet, so God you save,\r\nLet men glue* on us the name;                                    *fasten\r\nSufficeth that we have the fame.\u201d\r\n\u201cI grante,\u201d quoth she, \u201cby my troth;\r\nNow Aeolus, withoute sloth,\r\nTake out thy trump of gold,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cAnd blow as they have asked me,\r\nThat ev\u2019ry man ween* them at ease,                              *believe\r\nAlthough they go in full *bad leas.\u201d*                     *sorry plight*\r\nThis Aeolus gan it so blow,\r\nThat through the world it was y-know.\r\n\r\nThen came the seventh rout anon,\r\nAnd fell on knees ev\u2019ry one,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cLady, grant us soon\r\nThe same thing, the same boon,\r\nWhich *this next folk* you have done.\u201d       *the people just before us*\r\n\u201cFy on you,\u201d quoth she, \u201cev\u2019ry one!\r\nYe nasty swine, ye idle wretches,\r\nFull fill\u2019d of rotten slowe tetches!*                    *blemishes <75>\r\nWhat? false thieves! ere ye would\r\n*Be famous good,* and nothing n\u2019ould                    *have good fame*\r\nDeserve why, nor never raught,*                *recked, cared (to do so)\r\nMen rather you to hangen ought.\r\nFor ye be like the sleepy cat,\r\nThat would have fish; but, know\u2019st thou what?\r\nHe woulde no thing wet his claws.\r\nEvil thrift come to your jaws,\r\nAnd eke to mine, if I it grant,\r\nOr do favour you to avaunt.*                           *boast your deeds\r\nThou Aeolus, thou King of Thrace,\r\nGo, blow this folk a *sorry grace,\u201d*                           *disgrace\r\nQuoth she, \u201canon; and know\u2019st thou how?\r\nAs I shall telle thee right now,\r\nSay, these be they that would honour\r\nHave, and do no kind of labour,\r\nNor do no good, and yet have laud,\r\nAnd that men ween\u2019d that Belle Isaude <76>\r\n*Could them not of love wern;*          *could not refuse them her love*\r\nAnd yet she that grinds at the quern*                         *mill <77>\r\nIs all too good to ease their heart.\u201d\r\nThis Aeolus anon upstart,\r\nAnd with his blacke clarioun\r\nHe gan to blazen out a soun\u2019\r\nAs loud as bellows wind in hell;\r\nAnd eke therewith, the sooth to tell,\r\nThis sounde was so full of japes,*                                *jests\r\nAs ever were mows* in apes;                                    *grimaces\r\nAnd that went all the world about,\r\nThat ev\u2019ry wight gan on them shout,\r\nAnd for to laugh as they were wood;*                                *mad\r\n*Such game found they in their hood.* <78>      *so were they ridiculed*\r\n\r\nThen came another company,\r\nThat hadde done the treachery,\r\nThe harm, and the great wickedness,\r\nThat any hearte coulde guess;\r\nAnd prayed her to have good fame,\r\nAnd that she would do them no shame,\r\nBut give them los and good renown,\r\nAnd *do it blow* in clarioun.                     *cause it to be blown*\r\n\u201cNay, wis!\u201d quoth she, \u201cit were a vice;\r\nAll be there in me no justice,\r\nMe liste not to do it now,\r\nNor this will I grant to you.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen came there leaping in a rout,*                               *crowd\r\nAnd gan to clappen* all about                             *strike, knock\r\nEvery man upon the crown,\r\nThat all the hall began to soun\u2019;\r\nAnd saide; \u201cLady lefe* and dear,                                  *loved\r\nWe be such folk as ye may hear.\r\nTo tellen all the tale aright,\r\nWe be shrewes* every wight,                      *wicked, impious people\r\nAnd have delight in wickedness,\r\nAs goode folk have in goodness,\r\nAnd joy to be y-knowen shrews,\r\nAnd full of vice and *wicked thews;*                    *evil qualities*\r\nWherefore we pray you *on a row,*                         *all together*\r\nThat our fame be such y-know\r\nIn all things right as it is.\u201d\r\n\u201cI grant it you,\u201d quoth she, \u201cy-wis.\r\nBut what art thou that say\u2019st this tale,\r\nThat wearest on thy hose a pale,*                       *vertical stripe\r\nAnd on thy tippet such a bell?\u201d\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth he, \u201csooth to tell,\r\nI am *that ilke shrew,* y-wis,                         *the same wretch*\r\nThat burnt the temple of Isidis,\r\nIn Athenes, lo! that city.\u201d <79>\r\n\u201cAnd wherefore didst thou so?\u201d quoth she.\r\n\u201cBy my thrift!\u201d quoth he, \u201cMadame,\r\nI woulde fain have had a name\r\nAs other folk had in the town;\r\nAlthough they were of great renown\r\nFor their virtue and their thews,*                       *good qualities\r\nThought I, as great fame have shrews\r\n(Though it be naught) for shrewdeness,\r\nAs good folk have for goodeness;\r\nAnd since I may not have the one,\r\nThe other will I not forgo\u2019n.\r\nSo for to gette *fame\u2019s hire,*                      *the reward of fame*\r\nThe temple set I all afire.\r\n*Now do our los be blowen swithe,\r\nAs wisly be thou ever blithe.\u201d*                           *see note <80>\r\n\u201cGladly,\u201d quoth she; \u201cthou Aeolus,\r\nHear\u2019st thou what these folk prayen us?\u201d\r\n\u201cMadame, I hear full well,\u201d quoth he,\r\n\u201cAnd I will trumpen it, pardie!\u201d\r\nAnd took his blacke trumpet fast,\r\nAnd gan to puffen and to blast,\r\nTill it was at the worlde\u2019s end.\r\n\r\nWith that I gan *aboute wend,*                                    *turn*\r\nFor one that stood right at my back\r\nMe thought full goodly* to me spake,                *courteously, fairly\r\nAnd saide, \u201cFriend, what is thy name?\r\nArt thou come hither to have fame?\u201d\r\n\u201cNay, *for soothe,* friend!\u201d quoth I;                           *surely*\r\n\u201cI came not hither, *grand mercy,*                        *great thanks*\r\nFor no such cause, by my head!\r\nSufficeth me, as I were dead,\r\nThat no wight have my name in hand.\r\nI wot myself best how I stand,\r\nFor what I dree,* or what I think,                               *suffer\r\nI will myself it alle drink,\r\nCertain, for the more part,\r\nAs far forth as I know mine art.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhat doest thou here, then,\u201d quoth he.\r\nQuoth I, \u201cThat will I telle thee;\r\nThe cause why I stande here,\r\nIs some new tidings for to lear,*                                 *learn\r\nSome newe thing, I know not what,\r\nTidings either this or that,\r\nOf love, or suche thinges glad.\r\nFor, certainly, he that me made\r\nTo come hither, said to me\r\nI shoulde bothe hear and see\r\nIn this place wondrous things;\r\nBut these be not such tidings\r\nAs I meant of.\u201d \u201cNo?\u201d quoth he.\r\nAnd I answered, \u201cNo, pardie!\r\nFor well I wot ever yet,\r\nSince that first I hadde wit,\r\nThat some folk have desired fame\r\nDiversely, and los, and name;\r\nBut certainly I knew not how\r\nNor where that Fame dwelled, ere now\r\nNor eke of her description,\r\nNor also her condition,\r\nNor *the order of her doom,*            *the principle of her judgments*\r\nKnew I not till I hither come.\u201d\r\n\u201cWhy, then, lo! be these tidings,\r\nThat thou nowe hither brings,\r\nThat thou hast heard?\u201d quoth he to me.\r\n\u201cBut now *no force,* for well I see                          *no matter*\r\nWhat thou desirest for to lear.\u201d\r\nCome forth, and stand no longer here.\r\nAnd I will thee, withoute dread,*                                 *doubt\r\nInto another place lead,\r\nWhere thou shalt hear many a one.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen gan I forth with him to go\u2019n\r\nOut of the castle, sooth to say.\r\nThen saw I stand in a vally,\r\nUnder the castle faste by,\r\nA house, that domus Daedali,\r\nThat Labyrinthus <81> called is,\r\nN\u2019as* made so wondrously, y-wis,                                *was not\r\nNor half so quaintly* was y-wrought.                          *strangely\r\nAnd evermore, as swift as thought,\r\nThis quainte* house aboute went,                                *strange\r\nThat nevermore it *stille stent;*                       *ceased to move*\r\nAnd thereout came so great a noise,\r\nThat had it stooden upon Oise, <82>\r\nMen might have heard it easily\r\nTo Rome, I *trowe sickerly.*                       *confidently believe*\r\nAnd the noise which I heard,\r\nFor all the world right so it far\u2019d\r\nAs doth the routing* of the stone                        *rushing noise*\r\nThat from the engine<83> is let go\u2019n.\r\nAnd all this house of which I read*                            *tell you\r\nWas made of twigges sallow,* red,                                *willow\r\nAnd green eke, and some were white,\r\nSuch as men *to the cages twight,*                  *pull to make cages*\r\nOr maken of  these panniers,\r\nOr elles hutches or dossers;*                              *back-baskets\r\nThat, for the swough* and for the twigs,                  *rushing noise\r\nThis house was all so full of gigs,*                     *sounds of wind\r\nAnd all so full eke of chirkings,*                            *creakings\r\nAnd of many other workings;\r\nAnd eke this house had of entries\r\nAs many as leaves be on trees,\r\nIn summer when that they be green,\r\nAnd on the roof men may yet see\u2019n\r\nA thousand holes, and well mo\u2019,\r\nTo let the soundes oute go.\r\nAnd by day *in ev\u2019ry tide*                                 *continually*\r\nBe all the doores open wide,\r\nAnd by night each one unshet;*                             *unshut, open\r\nNor porter there is none to let*                                 *hinder\r\nNo manner tidings in to pace;\r\nNor ever rest is in that place,\r\nThat it n\u2019is* fill\u2019d full of tidings,                            *is not\r\nEither loud, or of whisperings;\r\nAnd ever all the house\u2019s angles\r\nAre full of *rownings and of jangles,*     *whisperings and chatterings*\r\nOf wars, of peace, of marriages,\r\nOf rests, of labour, of voyages,\r\nOf abode, of death, of life,\r\nOf love, of hate, accord, of strife,\r\nOf loss, of lore, and of winnings,\r\nOf health, of sickness, of buildings,\r\nOf faire weather and tempests,\r\nOf qualm* of folkes and of beasts;                             *sickness\r\nOf divers transmutations\r\nOf estates and of regions;\r\nOf trust, of dread,* of jealousy,                                 *doubt\r\nOf wit, of cunning, of folly,\r\nOf plenty, and of great famine,\r\nOf *cheap, of dearth,* and of ruin;     *cheapness & dearness (of food)*\r\nOf good or of mis-government,\r\nOf fire, and diverse accident.\r\nAnd lo! this house of which I write,\r\n*Sicker be ye,* it was not lite;*                    *be assured* *small\r\nFor it was sixty mile of length,\r\nAll* was the timber of no strength;                            *although\r\nYet it is founded to endure,\r\n*While that it list to Adventure,*               *while fortune pleases*\r\nThat is the mother of tidings,\r\nAs is the sea of wells and springs;\r\nAnd it was shapen like a cage.\r\n\u201cCertes,\u201d quoth I, \u201cin all mine age,*                              *life\r\nNe\u2019er saw I such a house as this.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd as I wonder\u2019d me, y-wis,\r\nUpon this house, then ware was I\r\nHow that mine eagle, faste by,\r\nWas perched high upon a stone;\r\nAnd I gan straighte to him go\u2019n,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cI praye thee\r\nThat thou a while abide* me,                                   *wait for\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, and let me see\r\nWhat wonders in this place be;\r\nFor yet parauntre* I may lear**                    *peradventure **learn\r\nSome good thereon, or somewhat hear,\r\nThat *lefe me were,* ere that I went.\u201d             *were pleasing to me*\r\n\u201cPeter! that is mine intent,\u201d\r\nQuoth he to me; \u201ctherefore I dwell;*                              *tarry\r\nBut, certain, one thing I thee tell,\r\nThat, but* I bringe thee therein,                                *unless\r\nThou shalt never *can begin*                                   *be able*\r\nTo come into it, out of doubt,\r\nSo fast it whirleth, lo! about.\r\nBut since that Jovis, of his grace,\r\nAs I have said, will thee solace\r\nFinally with these ilke* things,                                   *same\r\nThese uncouth sightes and tidings,\r\nTo pass away thy heaviness,\r\nSuch ruth* hath he of thy distress                           *compassion\r\nThat thou suff\u2019rest debonairly,*                                 *gently\r\nAnd know\u2019st thyselven utterly\r\nDesperate of alle bliss,\r\nSince that Fortune hath made amiss\r\nThe fruit of all thy hearte\u2019s rest\r\nLanguish, and eke *in point to brest;*        *on the point of breaking*\r\nBut he, through his mighty merite,\r\nWill do thee ease, all be it lite,*                              *little\r\nAnd gave express commandement,\r\nTo which I am obedient,\r\nTo further thee with all my might,\r\nAnd wiss* and teache thee aright,                                *direct\r\nWhere thou may\u2019st moste tidings hear,\r\nShalt thou anon many one lear.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with this word he right anon\r\nHent* me up betwixt his tone,**                           *caught **toes\r\nAnd at a window in me brought,\r\nThat in this house was, as me thought;\r\nAnd therewithal me thought it stent,*                           *stopped\r\nAnd nothing it aboute went;\r\nAnd set me in the floore down.\r\nBut such a congregatioun\r\nOf folk, as I saw roam about,\r\nSome within and some without,\r\nWas never seen, nor shall be eft,*                     *again, hereafter\r\nThat, certes, in the world n\u2019 is* left                           *is not\r\nSo many formed by Nature,\r\nNor dead so many a creature,\r\nThat well unnethes* in that place                              *scarcely\r\nHad I a foote breadth of space;\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry wight that I saw there\r\nRown\u2019d* evereach in other\u2019s ear                               *whispered\r\nA newe tiding privily,\r\nOr elles told all openly\r\nRight thus, and saide, \u201cKnow\u2019st not thou\r\nWhat is betid,* lo! righte now?\u201d                               *happened\r\n\u201cNo,\u201d quoth he; \u201ctelle me what.\u201d\r\nAnd then he told him this and that,\r\nAnd swore thereto, that it was sooth;\r\n\u201cThus hath he said,\u201d and \u201cThus he do\u2019th,\u201d\r\nAnd \u201cThus shall \u2019t be,\u201d and \u201cThus heard I say\r\n\u201cThat shall be found, that dare I lay;\u201d*                          *wager\r\nThat all the folk that is alive\r\nHave not the cunning to descrive*                              *describe\r\nThe thinges that I hearde there,\r\nWhat aloud, and what in th\u2019ear.\r\nBut all the wonder most was this;\r\nWhen one had heard a thing, y-wis,\r\nHe came straight to another wight,\r\nAnd gan him tellen anon right\r\nThe same tale that to him was told,\r\nOr it a furlong way was old, <84>\r\nAnd gan somewhat for to eche*                                  *eke, add\r\nTo this tiding in his speech,\r\nMore than it ever spoken was.\r\nAnd not so soon departed n\u2019as*                                      *was\r\nHe from him, than that he met\r\nWith the third; and *ere he let\r\nAny stound,* he told him als\u2019;                *without delaying a momen*\r\nWere the tidings true or false,\r\nYet would he tell it natheless,\r\nAnd evermore with more increase\r\nThan it was erst.* Thus north and south                        *at first\r\nWent ev\u2019ry tiding from mouth to mouth,\r\nAnd that increasing evermo\u2019,\r\nAs fire is wont to *quick and go*             *become alive, and spread*\r\nFrom a spark y-sprung amiss,\r\nTill all a city burnt up is.\r\nAnd when that it was full up-sprung,\r\nAnd waxen* more on ev\u2019ry tongue                               *increased\r\nThan e\u2019er it was, it went anon\r\nUp to a window out to go\u2019n;\r\nOr, but it mighte thereout pass,\r\nIt gan creep out at some crevass,*                       *crevice, chink\r\nAnd fly forth faste for the nonce.\r\nAnd sometimes saw I there at once\r\n*A leasing, and a sad sooth saw,*            *a falsehood and an earnest\r\nThat gan *of adventure* draw                     true saying* *by chance\r\nOut at a window for to pace;\r\nAnd when they metten in that place,\r\nThey were checked both the two,\r\nAnd neither of them might out go;\r\nFor other so they gan *to crowd,*            *push, squeeze, each other*\r\nTill each of them gan cryen loud,\r\n\u201cLet me go first!\u201d \u2014 \u201cNay, but let me!\r\nAnd here I will ensure thee,\r\nWith vowes, if thou wilt do so,\r\nThat I shall never from thee go,\r\nBut be thine owen sworen brother!\r\nWe will us medle* each with other,                               *mingle\r\nThat no man, be he ne\u2019er so wroth,\r\nShall have one of us two, but both\r\nAt ones, as *beside his leave,*                     *despite his desire*\r\nCome we at morning or at eve,\r\nBe we cried or *still y-rowned.\u201d*                    *quietly whispered*\r\nThus saw I false and sooth, compouned,*                      *compounded\r\nTogether fly for one tiding.\r\nThen out at holes gan to wring*                       *squeeze, struggle\r\nEvery tiding straight to Fame;\r\nAnd she gan give to each his name\r\nAfter her disposition,\r\nAnd gave them eke duration,\r\nSome to wax and wane soon,\r\nAs doth the faire white moon;\r\nAnd let them go. There might I see\r\nWinged wonders full fast flee,\r\nTwenty thousand in a rout,*                                     *company\r\nAs Aeolus them blew about.\r\nAnd, Lord! this House in alle times\r\nWas full of shipmen and pilgrimes, <85>\r\nWith *scrippes bretfull of leasings,*    *wallets brimful of falsehoods*\r\nEntremedled with tidings*                                  *true stories\r\nAnd eke alone by themselve.\r\nAnd many thousand times twelve\r\nSaw I eke of these pardoners,<86>\r\nCouriers, and eke messengers,\r\nWith boistes* crammed full of lies                                *boxes\r\nAs ever vessel was with lyes.*                             *lees of wine\r\nAnd as I altherfaste* went                               *with all speed\r\nAbout, and did all mine intent\r\nMe *for to play and for to lear,*         *to amuse and instruct myself*\r\nAnd eke a tiding for to hear\r\nThat I had heard of some country,\r\nThat shall not now be told for me; \u2014\r\nFor it no need is, readily;\r\nFolk can sing it better than I.\r\nFor all must out, or late or rath,*                                *soon\r\nAll the sheaves in the lath;*                                 *barn <87>\r\nI heard a greate noise withal\r\nIn a corner of the hall,\r\nWhere men of love tidings told;\r\nAnd I gan thitherward behold,\r\nFor I saw running ev\u2019ry wight\r\nAs fast as that they hadde might,\r\nAnd ev\u2019reach cried, \u201cWhat thing is that?\u201d\r\nAnd some said, \u201cI know never what.\u201d\r\nAnd when they were all on a heap,\r\nThose behinde gan up leap,\r\nAnd clomb* upon each other fast, <88>                           *climbed\r\nAnd up the noise on high they cast,\r\nAnd trodden fast on others\u2019 heels,\r\nAnd stamp\u2019d, as men do after eels.\r\n\r\nBut at the last I saw a man,\r\nWhich that I not describe can;\r\nBut that he seemed for to be\r\nA man of great authority.\r\nAnd therewith I anon abraid*                                      *awoke\r\nOut of my sleepe, half afraid;\r\nRememb\u2019ring well what I had seen,\r\nAnd how high and far I had been\r\nIn my ghost; and had great wonder\r\nOf what the mighty god of thunder\r\nHad let me know; and gan to write\r\nLike as ye have me heard endite.\r\nWherefore to study and read alway\r\nI purpose to do day by day.\r\nAnd thus, in dreaming and in game,\r\nEndeth this little book of Fame.\r\n\r\nHere endeth the Book of Fame\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The House of Fame\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Rood: the cross on which Christ was crucified; Anglo-Saxon,\r\n\u201cRode.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. Well worth of this thing greate clerks: Great scholars set\r\nmuch worth upon this thing \u2014  that is, devote much labour,\r\nattach much importance, to the subject of dreams.\r\n\r\n3. The poet briefly refers to the description of the House of\r\nSomnus, in Ovid\u2019s \u201cMetamorphoses,\u201d 1. xi. 592, et seqq.; where\r\nthe cave of Somnus is said to be \u201cprope Cimmerios,\u201d (\u201cnear the\r\nCimmerians\u201d) and \u201cSaxo tamen exit ab imo Rivus aquae\r\nLethes.\u201d (\u201cA stream of Lethe\u2019s water issues from the base of the\r\nrock\u201d)\r\n\r\n4. See the account of the vision of Croesus in The Monk\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n5. The meaning of the allusion is not clear; but the story of the\r\npilgrims and the peas is perhaps suggested by the line following\r\n\u2014 \u201cto make lithe [soft] what erst was hard.\u201d St Leonard was the\r\npatron of captives.\r\n\r\n5. Corsaint:  The \u201ccorpus sanctum\u201d \u2014 the holy body, or relics,\r\npreserved in the shrine.\r\n\r\n7. So, in the Temple of Venus described in The Knight\u2019s Tale,\r\nthe Goddess is represented as \u201cnaked floating in the large sea\u201d.\r\n\r\n8. Vulcano: Vulcan, the husband of Venus.\r\n\r\n9. Ered: ploughed; Latin, \u201carare,\u201d Anglo-Saxon, \u201cerean,\u201d\r\nplough.\r\n\r\n10. Sours: Soaring ascent; a hawk was said to be \u201con the soar\u201d\r\nwhen he mounted, \u201con the sours\u201d or \u201csouse\u201d when he\r\ndescended on the prey, and took it in flight.\r\n\r\n11. This is only one among many instances in which Chaucer\r\ndisclaims the pursuits of love; and the description of his manner\r\nof life which follows is sufficient to show that the disclaimer\r\nwas no mere mock-humble affectation of a gallant.\r\n\r\n12. This reference, approximately fixing the date at which the\r\npoem was composed, points clearly to Chaucer\u2019s daily work as\r\nComptroller of the Customs \u2014 a post which he held from 1374\r\nto 1386.\r\n\r\n13. This is a frank enough admission that the poet was fond of\r\ngood cheer; and the effect of his \u201clittle abstinence\u201d on his\r\ncorporeal appearance is humorously described in the Prologue\r\nto the Tale of Sir Thopas, where the Host compliments Chaucer\r\non being as well shapen in the waist as himself.\r\n\r\n14. \u201cTo make the beard\u201d means to befool or deceive. See note\r\n15 to the Reeve\u2019s Tale. Precisely the same idea is conveyed in\r\nthe modern slang word \u201cshave\u201d \u2014 meaning a trick or fraud.\r\n\r\n15. Love-days: see note 21 to the Prologue to the Canterbury\r\nTales.\r\n\r\n16. If this reference is to any book of Chaucer\u2019s in which the\r\nHouse of Fame was mentioned, the book has not come down to\r\nus. It has been reasonably supposed, however, that Chaucer\r\nmeans by \u201chis own book\u201d Ovid\u2019s \u201cMetamorphoses,\u201d of which he\r\nwas evidently very fond; and in the twelfth book of that poem\r\nthe Temple of Fame is described.\r\n\r\n17. Saint Julian was the patron of hospitality; so the Franklin, in\r\nthe Prologue to The Canterbury Tales is said to be \u201cSaint Julian\r\nin his country,\u201d for his open house and liberal cheer. The eagle,\r\nat sight of the House of Fame, cries out \u201cbon hostel!\u201d \u2014 \u201ca fair\r\nlodging, a glorious house, by St Julian!\u201d\r\n\r\n18. The laurel-tree is sacred to Apollo.  See note 11 to The\r\nAssembly of Fowls.\r\n\r\n19. French, \u201croche,\u201d a rock.\r\n\r\n20. St. Thomas of Kent:  Thomas a Beckett, whose shrine was\r\nat Canterbury.\r\n\r\n21. The half or side of the rock which was towards the poet,\r\nwas inscribed with, etc.\r\n\r\n22. Cop: summit; German, \u201ckopf\u201d; the head.\r\n\r\n23. Gestiours:  tellers of stories; reciters of brave feats or\r\n\u201cgests.\u201d\r\n\r\n24. Arion: the celebrated Greek bard and citharist, who, in the\r\nseventh century before Christ, lived at the court of Periander,\r\ntyrant of Corinth. The story of his preservation by the dolphin,\r\nwhen the covetous sailors forced him to leap into the sea, is\r\nwell known.\r\n\r\n25. Chiron the Centaur was renowned for skill in music and the\r\narts, which he owed to the teaching of Apollo and Artemis. He\r\nbecame in turn the instructor of Peleus, Achilles, and other\r\ndescendants of Aeacus; hence he is called \u201cAeacides\u201d \u2014 because\r\ntutor to the Aeacides, and thus, so to speak, of that \u201cfamily.\u201d\r\n\r\n26. Glasgerion is the subject of a ballad given in \u201cPercy\u2019s\r\nReliques,\u201d where we are told that\r\n\u201cGlasgerion was a king\u2019s own son,\r\n And a harper he was good;\r\n He harped in the king\u2019s chamber,\r\n Where cup and candle stood.\u201d\r\n\r\n27. Cornemuse: bagpipe; French, \u201ccornemuse.\u201d Shawmies:\r\nshalms or psalteries; an instrument resembling a harp.\r\n\r\n28. Dulcet: a kind of pipe, probably corresponding with the\r\n\u201cdulcimer;\u201d the idea of sweet \u2014 French, \u201cdoux;\u201d Latin, \u201cdulcis\u201d\r\n\u2014 is at the root of both words.\r\n\r\n29. In the early printed editions of Chaucer, the two names are\r\n\u201cCitherus\u201d and \u201cProserus;\u201d in the manuscript which Mr Bell\r\nfollowed (No. 16 in the Fairfax collection) they are \u201cAtileris\u201d\r\nand \u201cPseustis.\u201d But neither alternative gives more than the\r\nslightest clue to identification. \u201cCitherus\u201d has been retained in\r\nthe text; it may have been employed as an appellative of Apollo,\r\nderived from \u201ccithara,\u201d the instrument on which he played; and\r\nit is not easy to suggest a better substitute for it than \u201cClonas\u201d -\r\n- an early Greek poet and musician who flourished six hundred\r\nyears before Christ. For \u201cProserus,\u201d however, has been\r\nsubstituted \u201cPronomus,\u201d the name of a celebrated Grecian\r\nplayer on the pipe, who taught Alcibiades the flute, and who\r\ntherefore, although Theban by birth, might naturally be said by\r\nthe poet to be \u201cof Athens.\u201d\r\n\r\n30. Marsyas: The Phrygian, who, having found the flute of\r\nAthena, which played of itself most exquisite music, challenged\r\nApollo to a contest, the victor in which was to do with the\r\nvanquished as he pleased. Marsyas was beaten, and Apollo\r\nflayed him alive.\r\n\r\n31. The German (Deutsche) language, in Chaucer\u2019s time, had\r\nnot undergone that marked literary division into German and\r\nDutch which was largely accomplished through the influence of\r\nthe works of Luther and the other Reformers. Even now, the\r\nflute is the favourite musical instrument of the Fatherland; and\r\nthe devotion of the Germans to poetry and music has been\r\ncelebrated since the days of Tacitus.\r\n\r\n32. Reyes: a kind of dance, or song to be accompanied with\r\ndancing.\r\n\r\n33. Beam: horn, trumpet; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cbema.\u201d\r\n\r\n34. Messenus: Misenus, son of Aeolus, the companion and\r\ntrumpeter of Aeneas, was drowned near the Campanian\r\nheadland called Misenum after his name. (Aeneid, vi. 162 et\r\nseqq.)\r\n\r\n35. Joab\u2019s fame as a trumpeter is founded on two verses in 2\r\nSamuel (ii. 28, xx. 22), where we are told that he \u201cblew a\r\ntrumpet,\u201d which all the people of Israel obeyed, in the one case\r\ndesisting from a pursuit, in the other raising a siege.\r\n\r\n36. Theodamas or Thiodamas, king of the Dryopes, plays a\r\nprominent part in the tenth book of Statius\u2019 \u201cThebaid.\u201d Both he\r\nand Joab are also mentioned as great trumpeters in The\r\nMerchant\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n37. Jongelours: jugglers; French, \u201cjongleur.\u201d\r\n\r\n38. Tregetours: tricksters, jugglers. For explanation of this\r\nword, see note 14 to the Franklin\u2019s tale.\r\n\r\n39. Pythonesses:  women who, like the Pythia in Apollo\u2019s\r\ntemple at Delphi, were possessed with a spirit of divination or\r\nprophecy. The barbarous Latin form of the word was\r\n\u201cPythonissa\u201d or \u201cPhitonissa.\u201d See note 9 to the Friar\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n40. Subfumigations:  a ceremony employed to drive away evil\r\nspirits by burning incense; the practice of smoking cattle, corn,\r\n&c., has not died out in some country districts.\r\n\r\n41. In certain ascendents: under certain planetary influences.\r\nThe next lines recall the alleged malpractices of witches, who\r\ntortured little images of wax, in the design of causing the same\r\ntorments to the person represented \u2014 or, vice versa, treated\r\nthese images for the cure of hurts or sickness.\r\n\r\n42. Medea: celebrated for her magical power, through which\r\nshe restored to youth Aeson, the father of Jason; and caused the\r\ndeath of Jason\u2019s wife, Creusa, by sending her a poisoned\r\ngarment which consumed her to ashes.\r\n\r\n43. Circes: the sorceress Circe, who changed the companions of\r\nUlysses into swine.\r\n\r\n44. Calypsa: Calypso, on whose island of Ogygia Ulysses was\r\nwrecked. The goddess promised the hero immortality if he\r\nremained with her; but he refused, and, after a detention of\r\nseven years, she had to let him go.\r\n\r\n45. Hermes Ballenus: this is supposed to mean Hermes\r\nTrismegistus (of whom see note 19 to the Canon\u2019s Yeoman\u2019s\r\nTale); but the explanation of the word \u201cBallenus\u201d is not quite\r\nobvious. The god Hermes of the Greeks (Mercurius of the\r\nRomans) had the surname \u201cCyllenius,\u201d from the mountain\r\nwhere he was born \u2014 Mount Cyllene, in Arcadia; and the\r\nalteration into \u201cBallenus\u201d would be quite within the range of a\r\ncopyist\u2019s capabilities, while we find in the mythological\r\ncharacter of Hermes enough to warrant his being classed with\r\njugglers and magicians.\r\n\r\n46. Limote and Colle Tregetour seem to have been famous\r\nsorcerers or jugglers, but nothing is now known of either.\r\n\r\n47. Simon Magus: of whom we read in Acts viii. 9, et seqq.\r\n\r\n48. \u201cAnd made well more than it was\r\n     To seemen ev\u2019rything, y-wis,\r\n     As kindly thing of Fame it is;\u201d\r\ni.e. It is in the nature of fame to exaggerate everything.\r\n\r\n49. Corbets: the corbels, or capitals of pillars in a Gothic\r\nbuilding; they were often carved with fantastic figures and\r\ndevices.\r\n\r\n50. A largess!: the cry with which heralds and pursuivants at a\r\ntournament acknowledged the gifts or largesses of the knights\r\nwhose achievements they celebrated.\r\n\r\n51. Nobles: gold coins of exceptional fineness. Sterlings:\r\nsterling coins; not \u201cluxemburgs\u201d, but stamped and authorised\r\nmoney. See note 9 to the Miller\u2019s Tale and note 6 to the\r\nPrologue to the Monk\u2019s tale.\r\n\r\n52. Coat-armure: the sleeveless coat or \u201ctabard,\u201d on which the\r\narms of the wearer or his lord were emblazoned.\r\n\r\n53. \u201cBut for to prove in alle wise\r\nAs fine as ducat of Venise\u201d\r\ni.e. In whatever way it might be proved or tested, it would be\r\nfound as fine as a Venetian ducat.\r\n\r\n54. Lapidaire: a treatise on precious stones.\r\n\r\n55. See imperial: a seat placed on the dais, or elevated portion\r\nof the hall at the upper end, where the lord and the honoured\r\nguests sat.\r\n\r\n56. The starres seven: Septentrion; the Great Bear or Northern\r\nWain, which in this country appears to be at the top of heaven.\r\n\r\n57. The Apocalypse: The last book of the New Testament, also\r\ncalled Revelations. The four beasts are in chapter iv. 6.\r\n\r\n58. \u201cOundy\u201d is the French \u201condoye,\u201d from \u201condoyer,\u201d to\r\nundulate or wave.\r\n\r\n59. Partridges\u2019 wings: denoting swiftness.\r\n\r\n60. Hercules lost his life with the poisoned shirt of Nessus, sent\r\nto him by the jealous Dejanira.\r\n\r\n61. Of the secte Saturnine: Of the Saturnine school; so called\r\nbecause his history of the Jewish wars narrated many horrors,\r\ncruelties, and sufferings, over which Saturn was the presiding\r\ndeity. See note 71 to the Knight\u2019s tale.\r\n\r\n62. Compare the account of the \u201cbodies seven\u201d given by the\r\nCanon\u2019s Yeoman:\r\n\u201cSol gold is, and Luna silver we threpe;\r\n Mars iron, Mercury quicksilver we clepe;\r\n Saturnus lead, and Jupiter is tin,\r\n And Venus copper, by my father\u2019s kin.\u201d\r\n\r\n63. Statius is called a \u201cTholosan,\u201d because by some, among\r\nthem Dante, he was believed to have been a native of Tolosa,\r\nnow Toulouse. He wrote the \u201cThebais,\u201d in twelve books, and\r\nthe \u201cAchilleis,\u201d of which only two were finished.\r\n\r\n64. Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis were the names\r\nattached to histories of the Trojan War pretended to have been\r\nwritten immediately after the fall of Troy.\r\n\r\n65. Lollius:  The unrecognisable author whom Chaucer\r\nprofesses to follow in his \u201cTroilus and Cressida,\u201d and who has\r\nbeen thought to mean Boccaccio.\r\n\r\n66. Guido de Colonna, or de Colempnis, was a native of\r\nMessina, who lived about the end of the thirteenth century, and\r\nwrote in Latin prose a history including the war of Troy.\r\n\r\n67. English Gaufrid: Geoffrey of Monmouth, who drew from\r\nTroy the original of the British race. See Spenser\u2019s \u201cFaerie\r\nQueen,\u201d book ii. canto x.\r\n\r\n68. Lucan, in his \u201cPharsalia,\u201d a poem in ten books, recounted\r\nthe incidents of the war between Caesar and Pompey.\r\n\r\n69. Claudian of Alexandria, \u201cthe most modern of the ancient\r\npoets,\u201d lived some three centuries after Christ, and among other\r\nworks wrote three books on \u201cThe Rape of Proserpine.\u201d\r\n\r\n70. Triton was a son of Poseidon or Neptune, and represented\r\nusually as blowing a trumpet made of a conch or shell; he is\r\ntherefore introduced by Chaucer as the squire of Aeolus.\r\n\r\n71. Sky: cloud; Anglo-Saxon, \u201cscua;\u201d Greek, \u201cskia.\u201d\r\n\r\n72. Los: reputation. See note 5 to Chaucer\u2019s Tale of Melib\u0153us.\r\n\r\n73. Swart: black; German, \u201cschwarz.\u201d\r\n\r\n74. Tewell: the pipe, chimney, of the furnace; French \u201ctuyau.\u201d\r\nIn the Prologue to The Canterbury Tales, the Monk\u2019s head is\r\ndescribed as steaming like a lead furnace.\r\n\r\n75. Tetches: blemishes, spots; French, \u201ctache.\u201d\r\n\r\n76. For the story of Belle Isaude see note 21 to the Assembly of\r\nFowls.\r\n\r\n77. Quern:  mill. See note 6 to the Monk\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n78. To put an ape into one\u2019s hood, upon his head, is to befool\r\nhim; see the prologue  to the Prioresses\u2019s Tale, l.6.\r\n\r\n79. Obviously Chaucer should have said the temple of Diana, or\r\nArtemis (to whom, as Goddess of the Moon, the Egyptian Isis\r\ncorresponded), at Ephesus. The building, famous for its\r\nsplendour, was set on fire, in B.C. 356, by Erostatus, merely\r\nthat he might perpetuate his name.\r\n\r\n80. \u201cNow do our los be blowen swithe,\r\nAs wisly be thou ever blithe.\u201d i.e.\r\nCause our renown to be blown abroad quickly, as surely as you\r\nwish to be glad.\r\n\r\n81. The Labyrinth at Cnossus in Crete, constructed by Dedalus\r\nfor the safe keeping of the Minotaur, the fruit of Pasiphae\u2019s\r\nunnatural love.\r\n\r\n82. The river Oise, an affluent of the Seine, in France.\r\n\r\n83. The engine:  The machines for casting stones, which in\r\nChaucer time served the purpose of great artillery; they were\r\ncalled \u201cmangonells,\u201d \u201cspringolds,\u201d &c.; and resembled in\r\nconstruction the \u201cballistae\u201d and \u201ccatapultae\u201d of the ancients.\r\n\r\n84. Or it a furlong way was old:  before it was older than the\r\nspace of time during which one might walk a furlong; a measure\r\nof time often employed by Chaucer.\r\n\r\n85. Shipmen and pilgrimes: sailors and pilgrims, who seem to\r\nhave in Chaucer\u2019s time amply warranted the proverbial\r\nimputation against \u201ctravellers\u2019 tales.\u201d\r\n\r\n86. Pardoners: of whom Chaucer, in the Prologue to The\r\nCanterbury Tales, has given us no flattering typical portrait\r\n\r\n87. Lath: barn; still used in Lincolnshire and some parts of the\r\nnorth. The meaning is, that the poet need not tell what tidings\r\nhe wanted to hear, since everything of the kind must some day\r\ncome out \u2014 as sooner or later every sheaf in the barn must be\r\nbrought forth (to be threshed).\r\n\r\n88. A somewhat similar heaping-up of people is de scribed in\r\nSpenser\u2019s account of the procession of Lucifera (\u201cThe Faerie\r\nQueen,\u201d book i. canto iv.), where, as the royal dame passes to\r\nher coach,\r\n\u201cThe heaps of people, thronging in the hall,\r\n Do ride each other, upon her to gaze.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTROILUS AND CRESSIDA\r\n\r\n\r\n[In several respects, the story of \u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d may be\r\nregarded as Chaucer\u2019s noblest poem. Larger in scale than any\r\nother of his individual works \u2014 numbering nearly half as many\r\nlines as The Canterbury Tales contain, without reckoning the\r\ntwo in prose \u2014 the conception of the poem is yet so closely and\r\nharmoniously worked out, that all the parts are perfectly\r\nbalanced, and from first to last scarcely a single line is\r\nsuperfluous or misplaced. The finish and beauty of the poem as\r\na work of art, are not more conspicuous than the knowledge of\r\nhuman nature displayed in the portraits of the principal\r\ncharacters. The result is, that the poem is more modern, in form\r\nand in spirit, than almost any other work of its author; the\r\nchaste style and sedulous polish of the stanzas admit of easy\r\nchange into the forms of speech now current in England; while\r\nthe analytical and subjective character of the work gives it, for\r\nthe nineteenth century reader, an interest of the same kind as\r\nthat inspired, say, by George Eliot\u2019s wonderful study of\r\ncharacter in \u201cRomola.\u201d Then, above all, \u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d\r\nis distinguished by a purity and elevation of moral tone, that\r\nmay surprise those who judge of Chaucer only by the coarse\r\ntraits of his time preserved in The Canterbury Tales, or who\r\nmay expect to find here the Troilus, the Cressida, and the\r\nPandarus of Shakspeare\u2019s play. It is to no trivial gallant, no\r\nwoman of coarse mind and easy virtue, no malignantly\r\nsubservient and utterly debased procurer, that Chaucer\r\nintroduces us. His Troilus is a noble, sensitive, generous, pure-\r\nsouled, manly, magnanimous hero, who is only confirmed and\r\nstimulated in all virtue by his love, who lives for his lady, and\r\ndies for her falsehood, in a lofty and chivalrous fashion. His\r\nCressida is a stately, self-contained, virtuous, tender-hearted\r\nwoman, who loves with all the pure strength and trustful\r\nabandonment of a generous and exalted nature, and who is\r\ndriven to infidelity perhaps even less by pressure of\r\ncircumstances, than by the sheer force of her love, which will go\r\non loving \u2014 loving what it can have, when that which it would\r\nrather have is for the time unattainable. His Pandarus is a\r\ngentleman, though a gentleman with a flaw in him; a man who,\r\nin his courtier-like good-nature, places the claims of\r\ncomradeship above those of honour, and plots away the virtue\r\nof his niece, that he may appease the love-sorrow of his friend;\r\nall the time conscious that he is not acting as a gentleman\r\nshould, and desirous that others should give him that\r\njustification which he can get but feebly and diffidently in\r\nhimself. In fact, the \u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d of Chaucer is the\r\n\u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d of Shakespeare transfigured; the\r\natmosphere, the colour, the spirit, are wholly different; the older\r\npoet presents us in the chief characters to noble natures, the\r\nyounger to ignoble natures in all the characters; and the poem\r\nwith which we have now to do stands at this day among the\r\nnoblest expositions of love\u2019s workings in the human heart and\r\nlife. It is divided into five books, containing altogether 8246\r\nlines. The First Book (1092 lines) tells how Calchas, priest of\r\nApollo, quitting beleaguered Troy, left there his only daughter\r\nCressida; how Troilus, the youngest brother of Hector and son\r\nof King Priam, fell in love with her at first sight, at a festival in\r\nthe temple of Pallas, and sorrowed bitterly for her love; and\r\nhow his friend, Cressida\u2019s uncle, Pandarus, comforted him by\r\nthe promise of aid in his suit. The Second Book (1757 lines)\r\nrelates the subtle manoeuvres of Pandarus to induce Cressida to\r\nreturn the love of Troilus; which he accomplishes mainly by\r\ntouching at once the lady\u2019s admiration for his heroism, and her\r\npity for his love-sorrow on her account. The Third Book (1827\r\nlines) opens with an account of the first interview between the\r\nlovers; ere it closes, the skilful stratagems of Pandarus have\r\nplaced the pair in each other\u2019s arms under his roof, and the\r\nlovers are happy in perfect enjoyment of each other\u2019s love and\r\ntrust. In the Fourth Book (1701 lines) the course of true love\r\nceases to run smooth; Cressida is compelled to quit the city, in\r\nransom for Antenor, captured in a skirmish; and she sadly\r\ndeparts to the camp of the Greeks, vowing that she will make\r\nher escape, and return to Troy and Troilus within ten days. The\r\nFifth Book (1869 lines) sets out by describing the court which\r\nDiomedes, appointed to escort her, pays to Cressida on the way\r\nto the camp; it traces her gradual progress from indifference to\r\nher new suitor, to incontinence with him, and it leaves the\r\ndeserted Troilus dead on the field of battle, where he has sought\r\nan eternal refuge from the new grief provoked by clear proof of\r\nhis mistress\u2019s infidelity. The polish, elegance, and power of the\r\nstyle, and the acuteness of insight into character, which mark\r\nthe poem, seem to claim for it a date considerably later than that\r\nadopted by those who assign its composition to Chaucer\u2019s\r\nyouth: and the literary allusions and proverbial expressions with\r\nwhich it abounds, give ample evidence that, if Chaucer really\r\nwrote it at an early age, his youth must have been precocious\r\nbeyond all actual record. Throughout the poem there are\r\nrepeated references to the old authors of Trojan histories who\r\nare named in \u201cThe House of Fame\u201d; but Chaucer especially\r\nmentions one Lollius as the author from whom he takes the\r\ngroundwork of the poem. Lydgate is responsible for the\r\nassertion that Lollius meant Boccaccio; and though there is no\r\nauthority for supposing that the English really meant to\r\ndesignate the Italian poet under that name, there is abundant\r\ninternal proof that the poem was really founded on the\r\n\u201cFilostrato\u201d of Boccaccio. But the tone of Chaucer\u2019s work is\r\nmuch higher than that of his Italian \u201cauctour;\u201d and while in\r\nsome passages the imitation is very close, in all that is\r\ncharacteristic in \u201cTroilus and Cressida,\u201d Chaucer has fairly\r\nthrust his models out of sight. In the present edition, it has been\r\npossible to give no more than about one-fourth of the poem \u2014\r\n274 out of the 1178 seven-line stanzas that compose it; but\r\npains have been taken to convey, in the connecting prose\r\npassages, a faithful idea of what is perforce omitted.]\r\n\r\nTHE FIRST BOOK.\r\n\r\nTHE double sorrow <1> of Troilus to tell,\r\nThat was the King Priamus\u2019 son of Troy,\r\nIn loving how his adventures* fell                             *fortunes\r\nFrom woe to weal, and after* out of joy,                     *afterwards\r\nMy purpose is, ere I you parte froy.*                              *from\r\nTisiphone,<2> thou help me to indite\r\nThese woeful words, that weep as I do write.\r\n\r\nTo thee I call, thou goddess of torment!\r\nThou cruel wight, that sorrowest ever in pain;\r\nHelp me, that am the sorry instrument\r\nThat helpeth lovers, as I can, to plain.*                      *complain\r\nFor well it sits,* the soothe for to sayn,                       *befits\r\nUnto a woeful wight a dreary fere,*                           *companion\r\nAnd to a sorry tale a sorry cheer.*                         *countenance\r\n\r\nFor I, that God of Love\u2019s servants serve,\r\nNor dare to love for mine unlikeliness,* <3>             *unsuitableness\r\nPraye for speed,* although I shoulde sterve,**            *success **die\r\nSo far I am from his help in darkness;\r\nBut natheless, might I do yet gladness\r\nTo any lover, or any love avail,*                               *advance\r\nHave thou the thank, and mine be the travail.\r\n\r\nBut ye lovers that bathen in gladness,\r\nIf any drop of pity in you be,\r\nRemember you for old past heaviness,\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, and on adversity\r\nThat others suffer; think how sometime ye\r\nFounde how Love durste you displease;\r\nOr elles ye have won it with great ease.\r\n\r\nAnd pray for them that been in the case\r\nOf Troilus, as ye may after hear,\r\nThat Love them bring in heaven to solace;*             *delight, comfort\r\nAnd for me pray also, that God so dear\r\nMay give me might to show, in some mannere,\r\nSuch pain or woe as Love\u2019s folk endure,\r\nIn Troilus\u2019 *unseely adventure*                        *unhappy fortune*\r\n\r\nAnd pray for them that eke be despair\u2019d\r\nIn love, that never will recover\u2019d be;\r\nAnd eke for them that falsely be appair\u2019d*                    *slandered\r\nThrough wicked tongues, be it he or she:\r\nOr thus bid* God, for his benignity,                               *pray\r\nTo grant them soon out of this world to pace,*                 *pass, go\r\nThat be despaired of their love\u2019s grace.\r\n\r\nAnd bid also for them that be at ease\r\nIn love, that God them grant perseverance,\r\nAnd send them might their loves so to please,\r\nThat it to them be *worship and pleasance;*        *honour and pleasure*\r\nFor so hope I my soul best to advance,\r\nTo pray for them that Love\u2019s servants be,\r\nAnd write their woe, and live in charity;\r\n\r\nAnd for to have of them compassion,\r\nAs though I were their owen brother dear.\r\nNow listen all with good entention,*                          *attention\r\nFor I will now go straight to my mattere,\r\nIn which ye shall the double sorrow hear\r\nOf Troilus, in loving of Cresside,\r\nAnd how that she forsook him ere she died.\r\n\r\nIn Troy, during the siege, dwelt \u201ca lord of great authority, a\r\ngreat divine,\u201d named Calchas; who, through the oracle of\r\nApollo, knew that Troy should be destroyed. He stole away\r\nsecretly to the Greek camp, where he was gladly received, and\r\nhonoured for his skill in divining, of which the besiegers hoped\r\nto make use. Within the city there was great anger at the\r\ntreason of Calchas; and the people declared that he and all his\r\nkin were worthy to be burnt. His daughter, whom he had left in\r\nthe city, a widow and alone, was in great fear for her life.\r\n\r\nCressida was this lady\u2019s name aright;\r\n*As to my doom,* in alle Troy city                      *in my judgment*\r\nSo fair was none, for over ev\u2019ry wight\r\nSo angelic was her native beauty,\r\nThat like a thing immortal seemed she,\r\nAs sooth a perfect heav\u2019nly creature,\r\nThat down seem\u2019d sent in scorning of Nature.\r\n\r\nIn her distress, \u201cwell nigh out of her wit for pure fear,\u201d she\r\nappealed for protection to Hector; who, \u201cpiteous of nature,\u201d\r\nand touched by her sorrow and her beauty, assured her of\r\nsafety, so long as she pleased to dwell in Troy. The siege went\r\non; but they of Troy did not neglect the honour and worship of\r\ntheir deities; most of all of \u201cthe relic hight Palladion, <4> that\r\nwas their trust aboven ev\u2019ry one.\u201d In April, \u201cwhen clothed is the\r\nmead with newe green, of jolly Ver [Spring] the prime,\u201d the\r\nTrojans went to hold the festival of Palladion \u2014  crowding to\r\nthe temple, \u201cin all their beste guise,\u201d lusty knights, fresh ladies,\r\nand maidens bright.\r\n\r\nAmong the which was this Cresseida,\r\nIn widow\u2019s habit black; but natheless,\r\nRight as our firste letter is now A,\r\nIn beauty first so stood she makeless;*                       *matchless\r\nHer goodly looking gladded all the press;*                        *crowd\r\nWas never seen thing to be praised derre,*          *dearer, more worthy\r\nNor under blacke cloud so bright a sterre,*                        *star\r\n\r\nAs she was, as they saiden, ev\u2019ry one\r\nThat her behelden in her blacke weed;*                          *garment\r\nAnd yet she stood, full low and still, alone,\r\nBehind all other folk, *in little brede,*              *inconspicuously*\r\nAnd nigh the door, ay *under shame\u2019s drede;*        *for dread of shame*\r\nSimple of bearing, debonair* of cheer,                         *gracious\r\nWith a full sure* looking and mannere.                          *assured\r\n\r\nDan Troilus, as he was wont to guide\r\nHis younge knightes, led them up and down\r\nIn that large temple upon ev\u2019ry side,\r\nBeholding ay the ladies of the town;\r\nNow here, now there, for no devotioun\r\nHad he to none, to *reave him* his rest,                *deprive him of*\r\nBut gan to *praise and lacke whom him lest;*       *praise and disparage\r\n                                                        whom he pleased*\r\nAnd in his walk full fast he gan to wait*                *watch, observe\r\nIf knight or squier of his company\r\nGan for to sigh, or let his eyen bait*                             *feed\r\nOn any woman that he could espy;\r\nThen he would smile, and hold it a folly,\r\nAnd say him thus: \u201cAh, Lord, she sleepeth soft\r\nFor love of thee, when as thou turnest oft.\r\n\r\n\u201cI have heard told, pardie, of your living,\r\nYe lovers, and your lewed* observance,                *ignorant, foolish\r\nAnd what a labour folk have in winning\r\nOf love, and in it keeping with doubtance;*                       *doubt\r\nAnd when your prey is lost, woe and penance;*                 *suffering\r\nOh, very fooles! may ye no thing see?\r\nCan none of you aware by other be?\u201d\r\n\r\nBut the God of Love vowed vengeance on Troilus for that\r\ndespite, and, showing that his bow was not broken, \u201chit him at\r\nthe full.\u201d\r\n\r\nWithin the temple went he forth playing,\r\nThis Troilus, with ev\u2019ry wight about,\r\nOn this lady and now on that looking,\r\nWhether she were of town, or *of without;*       *from beyond the walls*\r\nAnd *upon cas* befell, that through the rout*         *by chance* *crowd\r\nHis eye pierced, and so deep it went,\r\nTill on Cresside it smote, and there it stent;*                  *stayed\r\n\r\nAnd suddenly wax\u2019d wonder sore astoned,*                         *amazed\r\nAnd gan her bet* behold in busy wise:                            *better\r\n\u201cOh, very god!\u201d <5> thought he; \u201cwhere hast thou woned*           *dwelt\r\nThat art so fair and goodly to devise?*                        *describe\r\nTherewith his heart began to spread and rise;\r\nAnd soft he sighed, lest men might him hear,\r\nAnd caught again his former *playing cheer.*         *jesting demeanour*\r\n\r\n*She was not with the least of her stature,*              *she was tall*\r\nBut all her limbes so well answering\r\nWere to womanhood, that creature\r\nWas never lesse mannish in seeming.\r\nAnd eke *the pure wise of her moving*                   *by very the way\r\nShe showed well, that men might in her guess                  she moved*\r\nHonour, estate,* and womanly nobless.                           *dignity\r\n\r\nThen Troilus right wonder well withal\r\nBegan to like her moving and her cheer,*                    *countenance\r\nWhich somedeal dainous* was, for she let fall                *disdainful\r\nHer look a little aside, in such mannere\r\nAscaunce* \u201cWhat! may I not stande here?\u201d               *as if to say <6>\r\nAnd after that *her looking gan she light,*       *her expression became\r\nThat never thought him see so good a sight.               more pleasant*\r\n\r\nAnd of her look in him there gan to quicken\r\nSo great desire, and strong affection,\r\nThat in his hearte\u2019s bottom gan to sticken\r\nOf her the fix\u2019d and deep impression;\r\nAnd though he erst* had pored** up and down,        *previously **looked\r\nThen was he glad his hornes in to shrink;\r\nUnnethes* wist he how to look or wink.                         *scarcely\r\n\r\nLo! he that held himselfe so cunning,\r\nAnd scorned them that Love\u2019s paines drien,*                      *suffer\r\nWas full unware that love had his dwelling\r\nWithin the subtile streames* of her eyen;                 *rays, glances\r\nThat suddenly he thought he felte dien,\r\nRight with her look, the spirit in his heart;\r\nBlessed be Love, that thus can folk convert!\r\n\r\nShe thus, in black, looking to Troilus,\r\nOver all things he stoode to behold;\r\nBut his desire, nor wherefore he stood thus,\r\nHe neither *cheere made,* nor worde told;    *showed by his countenance*\r\nBut from afar, *his manner for to hold,*       *to observe due courtesy*\r\nOn other things sometimes his look he cast,\r\nAnd eft* <7> on her, while that the service last.**      *again **lasted\r\n\r\nAnd after this, not fully all awhaped,*                         *daunted\r\nOut of the temple all easily be went,\r\nRepenting him that ever he had japed*                            *jested\r\nOf Love\u2019s folk, lest fully the descent\r\nOf scorn fell on himself; but what he meant,\r\nLest it were wist on any manner side,\r\nHis woe he gan dissemble and eke hide.\r\n\r\nReturning to his palace, he begins hypocritically to smile and\r\njest at Love\u2019s servants and their pains; but by and by he has to\r\ndismiss his attendants, feigning \u201cother busy needs.\u201d Then, alone\r\nin his chamber, he begins to groan and sigh, and call up again\r\nCressida\u2019s form as he saw her in the temple \u2014 \u201cmaking a mirror\r\nof his mind, in which he saw all wholly her figure.\u201d He thinks no\r\ntravail or sorrow too high a price for the love of such a goodly\r\nwoman; and, \u201cfull unadvised of his woe coming,\u201d\r\n\r\nThus took he purpose Love\u2019s craft to sue,*                       *follow\r\nAnd thought that he would work all privily,\r\nFirst for to hide his desire all *in mew*           *in a cage, secretly\r\nFrom every wight y-born, all utterly,\r\n*But he might aught recover\u2019d be thereby;*      *unless he gained by it*\r\nRememb\u2019ring him, that love *too wide y-blow*        *too much spoken of*\r\nYields bitter fruit, although sweet seed be sow.\r\n\r\nAnd, over all this, muche more he thought\r\nWhat thing to speak, and what to holden in;\r\nAnd what to arten* her to love, he sought;                *constrain <8>\r\nAnd on a song anon right to begin,\r\nAnd gan loud on his sorrow for to win;*                        *overcome\r\nFor with good hope he gan thus to assent*                       *resolve\r\nCressida for to love, and not repent.\r\n\r\nThe Song of Troilus. <9>\r\n\r\n\u201cIf no love is, O God! why feel I so?\r\nAnd if love is, what thing and which is he?\r\nIf love be good, from whence cometh my woe?\r\nIf it be wick\u2019, a wonder thinketh me\r\nWhence ev\u2019ry torment and adversity\r\nThat comes of love *may to me savoury think:*    *seem acceptable to me*\r\nFor more I thirst the more that I drink.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd if I *at mine owen luste bren*                *burn by my own will*\r\nFrom whence cometh my wailing and my plaint?\r\nIf maugre me,<10> *whereto plain I* then?\t*to what avail do I complain?*\r\nI wot ner* why, unweary, that I faint.                          *neither\r\nO quicke death! O sweete harm so quaint!*                       *strange\r\nHow may I see in me such quantity,\r\nBut if that I consent that so it be?\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd if that I consent, I wrongfully\r\nComplain y-wis: thus pushed to and fro,\r\nAll starreless within a boat am I,\r\nMiddes the sea, betwixte windes two,\r\nThat in contrary standen evermo\u2019.\r\nAlas! what wonder is this malady! \u2014\r\nFor heat of cold, for cold of heat, I die!\u201d\r\n\r\nDevoting himself wholly to the thought of Cressida \u2014 though he\r\nyet knew not whether she was woman or goddess \u2014 Troilus, in\r\nspite of his royal blood, became the very slave of love. He set at\r\nnaught every other charge, but to gaze on her as often as he\r\ncould; thinking so to appease his hot fire, which thereby only\r\nburned the hotter. He wrought marvellous feats of arms against\r\nthe Greeks, that she might like him the better for his renown;\r\nthen love deprived him of sleep, and made his food his foe; till\r\nhe had to \u201cborrow a title of other sickness,\u201d that men might not\r\nknow he was consumed with love. Meantime, Cressida gave no\r\nsign that she heeded his devotion, or even knew of it; and he\r\nwas now consumed with a new fear \u2014 lest she loved some other\r\nman. Bewailing his sad lot \u2014 ensnared, exposed to the scorn of\r\nthose whose love he had ridiculed, wishing himself arrived at\r\nthe port of death, and praying ever that his lady might glad him\r\nwith some kind look \u2014 Troilus is surprised in his chamber by his\r\nfriend Pandarus, the uncle of Cressida. Pandarus, seeking to\r\ndivert his sorrow by making him angry, jeeringly asks whether\r\nremorse of conscience, or devotion, or fear of the Greeks, has\r\ncaused all this ado. Troilus pitifully beseeches his friend to leave\r\nhim to die alone, for die he must, from a cause which he must\r\nkeep hidden; but Pandarus argues against Troilus\u2019 cruelty in\r\nhiding from a friend such a sorrow, and Troilus at last confesses\r\nthat his malady is love. Pandarus suggests that the beloved\r\nobject may be such that his counsel might advance his friend\u2019s\r\ndesires; but Troilus scouts the suggestion, saying that Pandarus\r\ncould never govern himself in love.\r\n\r\n\u201cYea, Troilus, hearken to me,\u201d quoth Pandare,\r\n\u201cThough I be nice;* it happens often so,                        *foolish\r\nThat one that access* doth full evil fare,        *in an access of fever\r\nBy good counsel can keep his friend therefro\u2019.\r\nI have my selfe seen a blind man go\r\nWhere as he fell that looke could full wide;\r\nA fool may eke a wise man often guide.\r\n\r\n\u201cA whetstone is no carving instrument,\r\nBut yet it maketh sharpe carving tooles;\r\nAnd, if thou know\u2019st that I have aught miswent,*          *erred, failed\r\nEschew thou that, for such thing to thee school* is.  *schooling, lesson\r\nThus oughte wise men to beware by fooles;\r\nIf so thou do, thy wit is well bewared;\r\nBy its contrary is everything declared.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor how might ever sweetness have been know\r\nTo him that never tasted bitterness?\r\nAnd no man knows what gladness is, I trow,\r\nThat never was in sorrow or distress:\r\nEke white by black, by shame eke worthiness,\r\nEach set by other, *more for other seemeth,*        *its quality is made\r\nAs men may see; and so the wise man deemeth.\u201d            more obvious by the contrast*\r\nTroilus, however, still begs his friend to leave him to mourn in\r\npeace, for all his proverbs can avail nothing. But Pandarus\r\ninsists on plying the lover with wise saws, arguments,\r\nreproaches; hints that, if he should die of love, his lady may\r\nimpute his death to fear of the Greeks; and finally induces\r\nTroilus to admit that the well of all his woe, his sweetest foe, is\r\ncalled Cressida. Pandarus breaks into praises of the lady, and\r\ncongratulations of his friend for so well fixing his heart; he\r\nmakes Troilus utter a formal confession of his sin in jesting at\r\nlovers and bids him think well that she of whom rises all his\r\nwoe, hereafter may his comfort be also.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor thilke* ground, that bears the weedes wick\u2019              *that same\r\nBears eke the wholesome herbes, and full oft\r\nNext to the foule nettle, rough and thick,\r\nThe lily waxeth,* white, and smooth, and soft;                    *grows\r\nAnd next the valley is the hill aloft,\r\nAnd next the darke night is the glad morrow,\r\nAnd also joy is next the fine* of sorrow.\u201d                  *end, border\r\n\r\nPandarus holds out to Troilus good hope of achieving his\r\ndesire; and tells him that, since he has been converted from his\r\nwicked rebellion against Love, he shall be made the best post of\r\nall Love\u2019s law, and most grieve Love\u2019s enemies. Troilus gives\r\nutterance to a hint of fear; but he is silenced by Pandarus with\r\nanother proverb \u2014  \u201cThou hast full great care, lest that the carl\r\nshould fall out of the moon.\u201d Then the lovesick youth breaks\r\ninto a joyous boast that some of the Greeks shall smart; he\r\nmounts his horse, and plays the lion in the field; while Pandarus\r\nretires to consider how he may best recommend to his niece the\r\nsuit of Troilus.\r\n\r\nTHE SECOND BOOK.\r\n\r\nIN the Proem to the Second Book, the poet hails the clear\r\nweather that enables him to sail out of those black waves in\r\nwhich his boat so laboured that he could scarcely steer \u2014 that is,\r\n\u201cthe tempestuous matter of despair, that Troilus was in; but\r\nnow of hope the kalendes begin.\u201d He invokes the aid of Clio;\r\nexcuses himself to every lover for what may be found amiss in a\r\nbook which he only translates; and, obviating any lover\u2019s\r\nobjection to the way in which Troilus obtained his lady\u2019s grace -\r\n- through Pandarus\u2019 mediation \u2014 says it seems to him no\r\nwonderful thing:\r\n\r\n\u201cFor ev\u2019ry wighte that to Rome went\r\nHeld not one path, nor alway one mannere;\r\nEke in some lands were all the game y-shent\r\nIf that men far\u2019d in love as men do here,\r\nAs thus, in open dealing and in cheer,\r\nIn visiting, in form, or saying their saws;*                   *speeches\r\nFor thus men say: Each country hath its laws.\r\n\r\n\u201cEke scarcely be there in this place three\r\nThat have in love done or said *like in all;\u201d*   *alike in all respects*\r\n\r\nAnd so that which the poem relates may not please the reader \u2014\r\nbut it actually was done, or it shall yet be done. The Book sets\r\nout with the visit of Pandarus to Cressida:\u2014\r\n\r\nIn May, that mother is of monthes glade,*                          *glad\r\nWhen all the freshe flowers, green and red,\r\nBe quick* again, that winter deade made,                          *alive\r\nAnd full of balm is floating ev\u2019ry mead;\r\nWhen Phoebus doth his brighte beames spread\r\nRight in the white Bull, so it betid*                          *happened\r\nAs I shall sing, on Maye\u2019s day the thrid, <11>\r\n\r\nThat Pandarus, for all his wise speech,\r\nFelt eke his part of Love\u2019s shottes keen,\r\nThat, could he ne\u2019er so well of Love preach,\r\nIt made yet his hue all day full green;*                           *pale\r\nSo *shope it,* that him fell that day a teen*      *it happened* *access\r\nIn love, for which full woe to bed he went,\r\nAnd made ere it were day full many a went.*                *turning <12>\r\n\r\nThe swallow Progne, <13> with a sorrowful lay,\r\nWhen morrow came, gan make her waimenting,*                   *lamenting\r\nWhy she foshapen* was; and ever lay                         *transformed\r\nPandare a-bed, half in a slumbering,\r\nTill she so nigh him made her chittering,\r\nHow Tereus gan forth her sister take,\r\nThat with the noise of her he did awake,\r\n\r\nAnd gan to call, and dress* him to arise,                       *prepare\r\nRememb\u2019ring him his errand was to do\u2019n\r\nFrom Troilus, and eke his great emprise;\r\nAnd cast, and knew in *good plight* was the Moon     *favourable aspect*\r\nTo do voyage, and took his way full soon\r\nUnto his niece\u2019s palace there beside\r\nNow Janus, god of entry, thou him guide!\r\n\r\nPandarus finds his niece, with two other ladies, in a paved\r\nparlour, listening to a maiden who reads aloud the story of the\r\nSiege of Thebes. Greeting the company, he is welcomed by\r\nCressida, who tells him that for three nights she has dreamed of\r\nhim. After some lively talk about the book they had been\r\nreading, Pandarus asks his niece to do away her hood, to show\r\nher face bare, to lay aside the book, to rise up and dance, \u201cand\r\nlet us do to May some observance.\u201d Cressida cries out, \u201cGod\r\nforbid!\u201d and asks if he is mad \u2014 if that is a widow\u2019s life, whom it\r\nbetter becomes to sit in a cave and read of holy saints\u2019 lives.\r\nPandarus intimates that he could tell her something which could\r\nmake her merry; but he refuses to gratify her curiosity; and, by\r\nway of the siege and of Hector, \u201cthat was the towne\u2019s wall, and\r\nGreekes\u2019 yerd\u201d or scourging-rod, the conversation is brought\r\nround to Troilus, whom Pandarus highly extols as \u201cthe wise\r\nworthy Hector the second.\u201d She has, she says, already heard\r\nTroilus praised for his bravery \u201cof them that her were liefest\r\npraised be\u201d [by whom it would be most welcome to her to be\r\npraised].\r\n\r\n\u201cYe say right sooth, y-wis,\u201d quoth Pandarus;\r\nFor yesterday, who so had with him been,\r\nMight have wonder\u2019d upon Troilus;\r\nFor never yet so thick a swarm of been*                            *bees\r\nNe flew, as did of Greekes from him flee\u2019n;\r\nAnd through the field, in ev\u2019ry wighte\u2019s ear,\r\nThere was no cry but \u2018Troilus is here.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cNow here, now there, he hunted them so fast,\r\nThere was but Greekes\u2019 blood; and Troilus\r\nNow him he hurt, now him adown he cast;\r\nAy where he went it was arrayed thus:\r\nHe was their death, and shield of life for us,\r\nThat as that day there durst him none withstand,\r\nWhile that he held his bloody sword in hand.\u201d\r\n\r\nPandarus makes now a show of taking leave, but Cressida\r\ndetains him, to speak of her affairs; then, the business talked\r\nover, he would again go, but first again asks his niece to arise\r\nand dance, and cast her widow\u2019s garments to mischance,\r\nbecause of the glad fortune that has befallen her. More curious\r\nthan ever, she seeks to find out Pandarus\u2019 secret; but he still\r\nparries her curiosity, skilfully hinting all the time at her good\r\nfortune, and the wisdom of seizing on it when offered. In the\r\nend he tells her that the noble Troilus so loves her, that with her\r\nit lies to make him live or die \u2014 but if Troilus dies, Pandarus\r\nshall die with him; and then she will have \u201cfished fair.\u201d <14> He\r\nbeseeches mercy for his friend:\r\n\r\n\u201c*Woe worth* the faire gemme virtueless! <15>             *evil befall!*\r\nWoe worth the herb also that *doth no boot!*     *has no remedial power*\r\nWoe worth the beauty that is rutheless!*                      *merciless\r\nWoe worth that wight that treads each under foot!\r\nAnd ye that be of beauty *crop and root*                *perfection <16>\r\nIf therewithal in you there be no ruth,*                           *pity\r\nThen is it harm ye live, by my truth!\u201d\r\n\r\nPandarus makes only the slight request that she will show\r\nTroilus somewhat better cheer, and receive visits from him, that\r\nhis life may be saved; urging that, although a man be soon going\r\nto the temple, nobody will think that he eats the images; and\r\nthat \u201csuch love of friends reigneth in all this town.\u201d\r\n\r\nCressida, which that heard him in this wise,\r\nThought: \u201cI shall feele* what he means, y-wis;\u201d                    *test\r\n\u201cNow, eme* quoth she, \u201cwhat would ye me devise?                   *uncle\r\nWhat is your rede* that I should do of this?\u201d          *counsel, opinion\r\n\u201cThat is well said,\u201d quoth he;\u201d certain best it is\r\nThat ye him love again for his loving,\r\nAs love for love is *skilful guerdoning.*        *reasonable recompense*\r\n\r\n\u201cThink eke how elde* wasteth ev\u2019ry hour                             *age\r\nIn each of you a part of your beauty;\r\nAnd therefore, ere that age do you devour,\r\nGo love, for, old, there will no wight love thee\r\nLet this proverb a lore* unto you be:                            *lesson\r\n\u2018\u201cToo late I was ware,\u201d quoth beauty when it past;\r\nAnd *elde daunteth danger* at the last.\u2019     *old age overcomes disdain*\r\n\r\n\u201cThe kinge\u2019s fool is wont to cry aloud,\r\nWhen that he thinks a woman bears her high,\r\n\u2018So longe may ye liven, and all proud,\r\nTill crowes\u2019 feet be wox* under your eye!                         *grown\r\nAnd send you then a mirror *in to pry*                      *to look in*\r\nIn which ye may your face see a-morrow!*                 *in the morning\r\n*I keep then wishe you no more sorrow.\u2019\u201d*            *I care to wish you nothing worse*\r\nWeeping, Cressida reproaches her uncle for giving her such\r\ncounsel; whereupon Pandarus, starting up, threatens to kill\r\nhimself, and would fain depart, but that his niece detains him,\r\nand, with much reluctance, promises to \u201cmake Troilus good\r\ncheer in honour.\u201d Invited by Cressida to tell how first he know\r\nher lover\u2019s woe, Pandarus then relates two soliloquies which he\r\nhad accidentally overheard, and in which Troilus had poured\r\nout all the sorrow of his passion.\r\n\r\nWith this he took his leave, and home he went\r\nAh! Lord, so was he glad and well-begone!*                        *happy\r\nCresside arose, no longer would she stent,*                        *stay\r\nBut straight into her chamber went anon,\r\nAnd sat her down, as still as any stone,\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry word gan up and down to wind\r\nThat he had said, as it came to her mind.\r\n\r\nAnd wax\u2019d somedeal astonish\u2019d in her thought,\r\nRight for the newe case; but when that she\r\n*Was full advised,* then she found right naught   *had fully considered*\r\nOf peril, why she should afeared be:\r\nFor a man may love, of possibility,\r\nA woman so, that his heart may to-brest,*                 *break utterly\r\nAnd she not love again, *but if her lest.*     *unless it so please her*\r\n\r\nBut as she sat alone, and thoughte thus,\r\nIn field arose a skirmish all without;\r\nAnd men cried in the street then:\u201d\r\nTroilus hath right now put to flight the Greekes\u2019 rout.\u201d*          *host\r\nWith that gan all the meinie* for to shout:      *(Cressida\u2019s) household\r\n\u201cAh! go we see, cast up the lattice wide,\r\nFor through this street he must to palace ride;\r\n\r\n\u201cFor other way is from the gates none,\r\nOf Dardanus,<18> where open is the chain.\u201d <19>\r\nWith that came he, and all his folk anon,\r\nAn easy pace riding, in *routes twain,*                     *two troops*\r\nRight as his *happy day* was, sooth to sayn:         *good fortune <20>*\r\nFor which men say may not disturbed be\r\nWhat shall betiden* of necessity.                                *happen\r\n\r\nThis Troilus sat upon his bay steed\r\nAll armed, save his head, full richely,\r\nAnd wounded was his horse, and gan to bleed,\r\nFor which he rode a pace full softely\r\nBut such a knightly sighte* truly                                *aspect\r\nAs was on him, was not, withoute fail,\r\nTo look on Mars, that god is of Battaile.\r\n\r\nSo like a man of armes, and a knight,\r\nHe was to see, full fill\u2019d of high prowess;\r\nFor both he had a body, and a might\r\nTo do that thing, as well as hardiness;*                        *courage\r\nAnd eke to see him in his gear* him dress,                       *armour\r\nSo fresh, so young, so wieldy* seemed he,                        *active\r\nIt was a heaven on him for to see.*                                *look\r\n\r\nHis helmet was to-hewn in twenty places,\r\nThat by a tissue* hung his back behind;                          *riband\r\nHis shield to-dashed was with swords and maces,\r\nIn which men might many an arrow find,\r\nThat thirled* had both horn, and nerve, and rind; <21>          *pierced\r\nAnd ay the people cried, \u201cHere comes our joy,\r\nAnd, next his brother, <22> holder up of Troy.\u201d\r\n\r\nFor which he wax\u2019d a little red for shame,\r\nWhen he so heard the people on him cryen\r\nThat to behold it was a noble game,\r\nHow soberly he cast adown his eyen:\r\nCresside anon gan all his cheer espien,\r\nAnd let it in her heart so softly sink,\r\nThat to herself she said, \u201cWho gives me drink?\u201d<23>\r\n\r\nFor of her owen thought she wax\u2019d all red,\r\nRememb\u2019ring her right thus: \u201cLo! this is he\r\nWhich that mine uncle swears he might be dead,\r\nBut* I on him have mercy and pity:\u201d                              *unless\r\nAnd with that thought for pure shame she\r\nGan in her head to pull, and that full fast,\r\nWhile he and all the people forth by pass\u2019d.\r\n\r\nAnd gan to cast,* and rollen up and down                         *ponder\r\nWithin her thought his excellent prowess,\r\nAnd his estate, and also his renown,\r\nHis wit, his shape, and eke his gentleness\r\nBut most her favour was, for his distress\r\nWas all for her, and thought it were ruth\r\nTo slay such one, if that he meant but truth.\r\n\r\n.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .\r\n\r\nAnd, Lord! so gan she in her heart argue\r\nOf this mattere, of which I have you told\r\nAnd what to do best were, and what t\u2019eschew,\r\nThat plaited she full oft in many a fold.<24>\r\nNow was her hearte warm, now was it cold.\r\nAnd what she thought of, somewhat shall I write,\r\nAs to mine author listeth to endite.\r\n\r\nShe thoughte first, that Troilus\u2019 person\r\nShe knew by sight, and eke his gentleness;\r\nAnd saide thus: *\u201cAll were it not to do\u2019n,\u2019*           *although it were\r\nTo grant him love, yet for the worthiness                    impossible*\r\nIt were honour, with play* and with gladness,    *pleasing entertainment\r\nIn honesty with such a lord to deal,\r\nFor mine estate,* and also for his heal.**          *reputation **health\r\n\r\n\u201cEke well I wot* my kinge\u2019s son is he;                             *know\r\nAnd, since he hath to see me such delight,\r\nIf I would utterly his sighte flee,\r\nParauntre* he might have me in despite,                    *peradventure\r\nThrough which I mighte stand in worse plight. <25>\r\nNow were I fool, me hate to purchase*                 *obtain for myself\r\nWithoute need, where I may stand in grace,*                      *favour\r\n\r\n\u201cIn ev\u2019rything, I wot, there lies measure;*              *a happy medium\r\nFor though a man forbidde drunkenness,\r\nHe not forbids that ev\u2019ry creature\r\nBe drinkeless for alway, as I guess;\r\nEke, since I know for me is his distress,\r\nI oughte not for that thing him despise,\r\nSince it is so he meaneth in good wise.\r\n\r\n\u201cNow set a case, that hardest is, y-wis,\r\nMen mighte deeme* that he loveth me;                            *believe\r\nWhat dishonour were it unto me, this?\r\nMay I *him let of* that? Why, nay, pardie!            *prevent him from*\r\nI know also, and alway hear and see,\r\nMen love women all this town about;\r\nBe they the worse? Why, nay, withoute doubt!\r\n\r\n\u201cNor me to love a wonder is it not;\r\nFor well wot I myself, so God me speed! \u2014\r\n*All would I* that no man wist of this thought \u2014     *although I would*\r\nI am one of the fairest, without drede,*                          *doubt\r\nAnd goodlieste, who so taketh heed;\r\nAnd so men say in all the town of Troy;\r\nWhat wonder is, though he on me have joy?\r\n\r\n\u201cI am mine owen woman, well at ease,\r\nI thank it God, as after mine estate,\r\nRight young, and stand untied in *lusty leas,*           *pleasant leash\r\nWithoute jealousy, or such debate:                            (of love)*\r\nShall none husband say to me checkmate;\r\nFor either they be full of jealousy,\r\nOr masterful, or love novelty.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat shall I do? to what fine* live I thus?                        *end\r\nShall I not love, in case if that me lest?\r\nWhat? pardie! I am not religious;<26>\r\nAnd though that I mine hearte set at rest\r\nAnd keep alway mine honour and my name,\r\nBy all right I may do to me no shame.\u201d\r\n\r\nBut right as when the sunne shineth bright\r\nIn March, that changeth oftentime his face,\r\nAnd that a cloud is put with wind to flight,\r\nWhich overspreads the sun as for a space;\r\nA cloudy thought gan through her hearte pace,*                     *pass\r\nThat overspread her brighte thoughtes all,\r\nSo that for fear almost she gan to fall.\r\n\r\nThe cloudy thought is of the loss of liberty and security, the\r\nstormy life, and the malice of wicked tongues, that love entails:\r\n\r\n[But] after that her thought began to clear,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cHe that nothing undertakes\r\nNothing achieveth, be him *loth or dear.\u201d*       *unwilling or desirous*\r\nAnd with another thought her hearte quakes;\r\nThen sleepeth hope, and after dread awakes,\r\nNow hot, now cold; but thus betwixt the tway*                       *two\r\nShe rist* her up, and wente forth to play.**     *rose **take recreation\r\n\r\nAdown the stair anon right then she went\r\nInto a garden, with her nieces three,\r\nAnd up and down they made many a went,*              *winding, turn <12>\r\nFlexippe and she, Tarke, Antigone,\r\nTo playe, that it joy was for to see;\r\nAnd other of her women, a great rout,*                            *troop\r\nHer follow\u2019d in the garden all about.\r\n\r\nThis yard was large, and railed the alleys,\r\nAnd shadow\u2019d well with blossomy boughes green,\r\nAnd benched new, and sanded all the ways,\r\nIn which she walked arm and arm between;\r\nTill at the last Antigone the sheen*                     *bright, lovely\r\nGan on a Trojan lay to singe clear,\r\nThat it a heaven was her voice to hear.\r\n\r\nAntigone\u2019s song is of virtuous love for a noble object; and it is\r\nsingularly fitted to deepen the impression made on the mind of\r\nCressida by the brave aspect of Troilus, and by her own\r\ncogitations. The singer, having praised the lover and rebuked\r\nthe revilers of love, proceeds:\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat is the Sunne worse of his *kind right,*              *true nature*\r\nThough that a man, for feebleness of eyen,\r\nMay not endure to see on it for bright? <27>\r\nOr Love the worse, tho\u2019 wretches on it cryen?\r\nNo weal* is worth, that may no sorrow drien;** <28>  *happiness **endure\r\nAnd forthy,* who that hath a head of verre,**    *therefore **glass <29>\r\nFrom cast of stones ware him in the werre. <30>\r\n\r\n\u201cBut I, with all my heart and all my might,\r\nAs I have lov\u2019d, will love unto my last\r\nMy deare heart, and all my owen knight,\r\nIn which my heart y-growen is so fast,\r\nAnd his in me, that it shall ever last\r\n*All dread I* first to love him begin,               *although I feared*\r\nNow wot I well there is no pain therein.\u201d\r\n\r\nCressida sighs, and asks Antigone whether there is such bliss\r\namong these lovers, as they can fair endite; Antigone replies\r\nconfidently in the affirmative; and Cressida answers nothing,\r\n\u201cbut every worde which she heard she gan to printen in her\r\nhearte fast.\u201d Night draws on:\r\n\r\nThe daye\u2019s honour, and the heaven\u2019s eye,\r\nThe nighte\u2019s foe, \u2014 all this call I the Sun, \u2014\r\nGan westren* fast, and downward for to wry,**       *go west <31> **turn\r\nAs he that had his daye\u2019s course y-run;\r\nAnd white thinges gan to waxe dun\r\nFor lack of light, and starres to appear;\r\nThen she and all her folk went home in fere.*                *in company\r\n\r\nSo, when it liked her to go to rest,\r\nAnd voided* were those that voiden ought,       *gone out (of the house)\r\nShe saide, that to sleepe well her lest.*                       *pleased\r\nHer women soon unto her bed her brought;\r\nWhen all was shut, then lay she still and thought\r\nOf all these things the manner and the wise;\r\nRehearse it needeth not, for ye be wise.\r\n\r\nA nightingale upon a cedar green,\r\nUnder the chamber wall where as she lay,\r\nFull loude sang against the moone sheen,\r\nParauntre,* in his birde\u2019s wise, a lay                        *perchance\r\nOf love, that made her hearte fresh and gay;\r\nHereat hark\u2019d* she so long in good intent,                     *listened\r\nTill at the last the deade sleep her hent.*                      *seized\r\n\r\nAnd as she slept, anon right then *her mette*              *she dreamed*\r\nHow that an eagle, feather\u2019d white as bone,\r\nUnder her breast his longe clawes set,\r\nAnd out her heart he rent, and that anon,\r\nAnd did* his heart into her breast to go\u2019n,                      *caused\r\nOf which no thing she was *abash\u2019d nor smert;*         *amazed nor hurt*\r\nAnd forth he flew, with hearte left for heart.\r\n\r\nLeaving Cressida to sleep, the poet returns to Troilus and his\r\nzealous friend \u2014 with whose stratagems to bring the two lovers\r\ntogether the remainder of the Second Book is occupied.\r\nPandarus counsels Troilus to write a letter to his mistress,\r\ntelling her how he \u201cfares amiss,\u201d and \u201cbeseeching her of ruth;\u201d\r\nhe will bear the letter to his niece; and, if Troilus will ride past\r\nCressida\u2019s house, he will find his mistress and his friend sitting\r\nat a window. Saluting Pandarus, and not tarrying, his passage\r\nwill give occasion for some talk of him, which may make his\r\nears glow. With respect to the letter, Pandarus gives some\r\nshrewd hints:\r\n\r\n\u201cTouching thy letter, thou art wise enough,\r\nI wot thou *n\u2019ilt it dignely endite*       *wilt not write it haughtily*\r\nOr make it with these argumentes tough,\r\nNor scrivener-like, nor craftily it write;\r\nBeblot it with thy tears also a lite;*                           *little\r\nAnd if thou write a goodly word all soft,\r\nThough it be good, rehearse it not too oft.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor though the beste harper *pon live*                           *alive\r\nWould on the best y-sounded jolly harp\r\nThat ever was, with all his fingers five\r\nTouch ay one string, or *ay one warble harp,*     *always play one tune*\r\nWere his nailes pointed ne\u2019er so sharp,\r\nHe shoulde maken ev\u2019ry wight to dull*                     *to grow bored\r\nTo hear his glee, and of his strokes full.\r\n\r\n\u201cNor jompre* eke no discordant thing y-fere,**        *jumble **together\r\nAs thus, to use termes of physic;\r\nIn love\u2019s termes hold of thy mattere\r\nThe form alway, and *do that it be like;*           *make it consistent*\r\nFor if a painter woulde paint a pike\r\nWith ass\u2019s feet, and head it as an ape,<32>\r\nIt *\u2019cordeth not,* so were it but a jape.\u201d           *is not harmonious*\r\n\r\nTroilus writes the letter, and next morning Pandarus bears it to\r\nCressida. She refuses to receive \u201cscrip or bill that toucheth such\r\nmattere;\u201d but he thrusts it into her bosom, challenging her to\r\nthrow it away. She retains it, takes the first opportunity of\r\nescaping to her chamber to read it, finds it wholly good, and,\r\nunder her uncle\u2019s dictation, endites a reply telling her lover that\r\nshe will not make herself bound in love; \u201cbut as his sister, him\r\nto please, she would aye fain [be glad] to do his heart an ease.\u201d\r\nPandarus, under pretext of inquiring who is the owner of the\r\nhouse opposite, has gone to the window; Cressida takes her\r\nletter to him there, and tells him that she never did a thing with\r\nmore pain than write the words to which he had constrained\r\nher. As they sit side by side, on a stone of jasper, on a cushion\r\nof beaten gold, Troilus rides by, in all his goodliness. Cressida\r\nwaxes \u201cas red as rose,\u201d as she sees him salute humbly, \u201cwith\r\ndreadful cheer, and oft his hues mue [change];\u201d she likes \u201call\r\ny-fere, his person, his array, his look, his cheer, his goodly\r\nmanner, and his gentleness;\u201d so that, however she may have\r\nbeen before, \u201cto goode hope now hath she caught a thorn, she\r\nshall not pull it out this nexte week.\u201d Pandarus, striking the iron\r\nwhen it is hot, asks his niece to grant Troilus an interview; but\r\nshe strenuously declines, for fear of scandal, and because it is all\r\ntoo soon to allow him so great a liberty \u2014 her purpose being to\r\nlove him unknown of all, \u201cand guerdon [reward] him with\r\nnothing but with sight.\u201d Pandarus has other intentions; and,\r\nwhile Troilus writes daily letters with increasing love, he\r\ncontrives the means of an interview. Seeking out Deiphobus,\r\nthe brother of Troilus, he tells him that Cressida is in danger of\r\nviolence from Polyphete, and asks protection for her.\r\nDeiphobus gladly complies, promises the protection of Hector\r\nand Helen, and goes to invite Cressida to dinner on the morrow.\r\nMeantime Pandarus instructs Troilus to go to the house of\r\nDeiphobus, plead an access of his fever for remaining all night,\r\nand keep his chamber next day. \u201cLo,\u201d says the crafty promoter\r\nof love, borrowing a phrase from the hunting-field; \u201cLo, hold\r\nthee at thy tristre [tryst <33>] close, and I shall well the deer\r\nunto thy bowe drive.\u201d Unsuspicious of stratagem, Cressida\r\ncomes to dinner; and at table, Helen, Pandarus, and others,\r\npraise the absent Troilus, until \u201cher heart laughs\u201d for very pride\r\nthat she has the love of such a knight. After dinner they speak\r\nof Cressida\u2019s business; all confirm Deiphobus\u2019 assurances of\r\nprotection and aid; and Pandarus suggests that, since Troilus is\r\nthere, Cressida shall herself tell him her case. Helen and\r\nDeiphobus alone accompany Pandarus to Troilus\u2019 chamber;\r\nthere Troilus produces some documents relating to the public\r\nweal, which Hector has sent for his opinion; Helen and\r\nDeiphobus, engrossed in perusal and discussion, roam out of\r\nthe chamber, by a stair, into the garden; while Pandarus goes\r\ndown to the hall, and, pretending that his brother and Helen are\r\nstill with Troilus, brings Cressida to her lover. The Second\r\nBook leaves Pandarus whispering in his niece\u2019s ear counsel to\r\nbe merciful and kind to her lover, that hath for her such pain;\r\nwhile Troilus lies \u201cin a kankerdort,\u201d <34> hearing the\r\nwhispering without, and wondering what he shall say for this\r\n\u201cwas the first time that he should her pray of love; O! mighty\r\nGod! what shall he say?\u201d\r\n\r\nTHE THIRD BOOK.\r\n\r\nTo the Third Book is prefixed a beautiful invocation of Venus,\r\nunder the character of light:\r\n\r\nO Blissful light, of which the beames clear\r\nAdornen all the thirde heaven fair!\r\nO Sunne\u2019s love, O Jove\u2019s daughter dear!\r\nPleasance of love, O goodly debonair,*             *lovely and gracious*\r\nIn gentle heart ay* ready to repair!**         *always **enter and abide\r\nO very* cause of heal** and of gladness,                 *true **welfare\r\nY-heried* be thy might and thy goodness!                        *praised\r\n\r\nIn heav\u2019n and hell, in earth and salte sea.\r\nIs felt thy might, if that I well discern;\r\nAs man, bird, beast, fish, herb, and greene tree,\r\nThey feel in times, with vapour etern, <35>\r\nGod loveth, and to love he will not wern                          forbid\r\nAnd in this world no living creature\r\nWithoute love is worth, or may endure. <36>\r\n\r\nYe Jove first to those effectes glad,\r\nThrough which that thinges alle live and be,\r\nCommended; and him amorous y-made\r\nOf mortal thing; and as ye list,* ay ye                         *pleased\r\nGave him, in love, ease* or adversity,                         *pleasure\r\nAnd in a thousand formes down him sent\r\nFor love in earth; and *whom ye list he hent.*       *he seized whom you\r\n                                                                 wished*\r\nYe fierce Mars appeasen of his ire,\r\nAnd as you list ye make heartes dign* <37>                       *worthy\r\nAlgates* them that ye will set afire,                     *at all events\r\nThey dreade shame, and vices they resign\r\nYe do* him courteous to be, and benign;                     *make, cause\r\nAnd high or low, after* a wight intendeth,                 *according as\r\nThe joyes that he hath your might him sendeth.\r\n\r\nYe holde realm and house in unity;\r\nYe soothfast* cause of friendship be also;                         *true\r\nYe know all thilke *cover\u2019d quality*                      *secret power*\r\nOf thinges which that folk on wonder so,\r\nWhen they may not construe how it may go\r\nShe loveth him, or why he loveth her,\r\nAs why this fish, not that, comes to the weir.*<38>           *fish-trap\r\n\r\nKnowing that Venus has set a law in the universe, that whoso\r\nstrives with her shall have the worse, the poet prays to be\r\ntaught to describe some of the joy that is felt in her service; and\r\nthe Third Book opens with an account of the scene between\r\nTroilus and Cressida:\r\n\r\nLay all this meane while Troilus\r\nRecording* his lesson in this mannere;                       *memorizing\r\n*\u201cMy fay!\u201d* thought he, \u201cthus will I say, and thus;       *by my faith!*\r\nThus will I plain* unto my lady dear;                    *make my plaint\r\nThat word is good; and this shall be my cheer\r\nThis will I not forgetten in no wise;\u201d\r\nGod let him worken as he can devise.\r\n\r\nAnd, Lord! so as his heart began to quap,*                  *quake, pant\r\nHearing her coming, and *short for to sike;*          *make short sighs*\r\nAnd Pandarus, that led her by the lap,*                           *skirt\r\nCame near, and gan in at the curtain pick,*                        *peep\r\nAnd saide: \u201cGod do boot* alle sick!                  *afford a remedy to\r\nSee who is here you coming to visite;\r\nLo! here is she that is *your death to wite!\u201d*\t*to blame for your death*\r\n\r\nTherewith it seemed as he wept almost.\r\n\u201cAh! ah! God help!\u201d quoth Troilus ruefully;\r\n\u201cWhe\u2019er* me be woe, O mighty God, thou know\u2019st!                 *whether\r\nWho is there? for I see not truely.\u201d\r\n\u201cSir,\u201d quoth Cresside, \u201cit is Pandare and I;\r\n\u201cYea, sweete heart? alas, I may not rise\r\nTo kneel and do you honour in some wise.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd dressed him upward, and she right tho*                         *then\r\nGan both her handes soft upon him lay.\r\n\u201cO! for the love of God, do ye not so\r\nTo me,\u201d quoth she; \u201cey! what is this to say?\r\nFor come I am to you for causes tway;*                              *two\r\nFirst you to thank, and of your lordship eke\r\nContinuance* I woulde you beseek.\u201d**               *protection **beseech\r\n\r\nThis Troilus, that heard his lady pray\r\nHim of lordship, wax\u2019d neither quick nor dead;\r\nNor might one word for shame to it say, <39>\r\nAlthough men shoulde smiten off his head.\r\nBut, Lord! how he wax\u2019d suddenly all red!\r\nAnd, Sir, his lesson, that he *ween\u2019d have con,*        *thought he knew\r\nTo praye her, was through his wit y-run.                       by heart*\r\n\r\nCresside all this espied well enow, \u2014\r\nFor she was wise, \u2014 and lov\u2019d him ne\u2019er the less,\r\nAll n\u2019ere he malapert, nor made avow,\r\nNor was so bold to sing a foole\u2019s mass;<40>\r\nBut, when his shame began somewhat to pass,\r\nHis wordes, as I may my rhymes hold,\r\nI will you tell, as teache bookes old.\r\n\r\nIn changed voice, right for his very dread,\r\nWhich voice eke quak\u2019d, and also his mannere\r\nGoodly* abash\u2019d, and now his hue is red,                     *becomingly\r\nNow pale, unto Cresside, his lady dear,\r\nWith look downcast, and humble *yielden cheer,*        *submissive face*\r\nLo! *altherfirste word that him astert,*        *the first word he said*\r\nWas twice: \u201cMercy, mercy, my dear heart!\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd stent* a while; and when he might *out bring,*      *stopped *speak*\r\nThe nexte was: \u201cGod wote, for I have,\r\n*As farforthly as I have conning,*                 *as far as I am able*\r\nBeen youres all, God so my soule save,\r\nAnd shall, till that I, woeful wight, *be grave;*                  *die*\r\nAnd though I dare not, cannot, to you plain,\r\nY-wis, I suffer not the lesse pain.\r\n\r\n\u201cThis much as now, O womanlike wife!\r\nI may *out bring,* and if it you displease,                  *speak out*\r\nThat shall I wreak* upon mine owne life,                         *avenge\r\nRight soon, I trow, and do your heart an ease,\r\nIf with my death your heart I may appease:\r\nBut, since that ye have heard somewhat say,\r\nNow reck I never how soon that I dey.\u201d                              *die\r\n\r\nTherewith his manly sorrow to behold\r\nIt might have made a heart of stone to rue;\r\nAnd Pandare wept as he to water wo\u2019ld, <41>\r\nAnd saide, \u201cWoe-begone* be heartes true,\u201d              *in woeful plight\r\nAnd procur\u2019d* his niece ever new and new,                         *urged\r\n\u201cFor love of Godde, make *of him an end,*          *put him out of pain*\r\nOr slay us both at ones, ere we wend.\u201d*                              *go\r\n\r\n\u201cEy! what?\u201d quoth she; \u201cby God and by my truth,\r\nI know not what ye woulde that I say;\u201d\r\n\u201cEy! what?\u201d quoth he; \u201cthat ye have on him ruth,*                  *pity\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, and do him not to dey.\u201d                           *die\r\n\u201cNow thenne thus,\u201d quoth she, \u201cI would him pray\r\nTo telle me the *fine of his intent;*                *end of his desire*\r\nYet wist* I never well what that he meant.\u201d                        *knew\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat that I meane, sweete hearte dear?\u201d\r\nQuoth Troilus, \u201cO goodly, fresh, and free!\r\nThat, with the streames* of your eyne so clear,          *beams, glances\r\nYe woulde sometimes *on me rue and see,*      *take pity and look on me*\r\nAnd then agreen* that I may be he,                    *take in good part\r\nWithoute branch of vice, in any wise,\r\nIn truth alway to do you my service,\r\n\r\n\u201cAs to my lady chief, and right resort,\r\nWith all my wit and all my diligence;\r\nAnd for to have, right as you list, comfort;\r\nUnder your yerd,* equal to mine offence,              *rod, chastisement\r\nAs death, if that *I breake your defence;*                  *do what you\r\nAnd that ye deigne me so much honour,                       forbid <42>*\r\nMe to commanden aught in any hour.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd I to be your very humble, true,\r\nSecret, and in my paines patient,\r\nAnd evermore desire, freshly new,\r\nTo serven, and be alike diligent,\r\nAnd, with good heart, all wholly your talent\r\nReceive in gree,* how sore that me smart;                      *gladness\r\nLo, this mean I, mine owen sweete heart.\u201d\r\n\r\n.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .\r\n\r\nWith that she gan her eyen on him* cast, <43>                  *Pandarus\r\nFull easily and full debonairly,*                            *graciously\r\n*Advising her,* and hied* not too fast,             *considering* **went\r\nWith ne\u2019er a word, but said him softely,\r\n\u201cMine honour safe, I will well truely,\r\nAnd in such form as ye can now devise,\r\nReceive him* fully to my service;                               *Troilus\r\n\r\n\u201cBeseeching him, for Godde\u2019s love, that he\r\nWould, in honour of truth and gentleness,\r\nAs I well mean, eke meane well to me;\r\nAnd mine honour, with *wit and business,*              *wisdom and zeal*\r\nAye keep; and if I may do him gladness,\r\nFrom henceforth, y-wis I will not feign:\r\nNow be all whole, no longer do ye plain.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut, natheless, this warn I you,\u201d quoth she,\r\n\u201cA kinge\u2019s son although ye be, y-wis,\r\nYe shall no more have sovereignety\r\nOf me in love, than right in this case is;\r\nNor will I forbear, if ye do amiss,\r\nTo wrathe* you, and, while that ye me serve,       *be angry with, chide\r\nTo cherish you, *right after ye deserve.*               *as you deserve*\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd shortly, deare heart, and all my knight,\r\nBe glad, and drawe you to lustiness,*                          *pleasure\r\nAnd I shall truely, with all my might,\r\nYour bitter turnen all to sweeteness;\r\nIf I be she that may do you gladness,\r\nFor ev\u2019ry woe ye shall recover a bliss:\u201d\r\nAnd him in armes took, and gan him kiss.\r\n\r\nPandarus, almost beside himself for joy, falls on his knees to\r\nthank Venus and Cupid, declaring that for this miracle he hears\r\nall the bells ring; then, with a warning to be ready at his call to\r\nmeet at his house, he parts the lovers, and attends Cressida\r\nwhile she takes leave of the household \u2014 Troilus all the time\r\ngroaning at the deceit practised on his brother and Helen. When\r\nhe has got rid of them by feigning weariness, Pandarus returns\r\nto the chamber, and spends the night with him in converse. The\r\nzealous friend begins to speak \u201cin a sober wise\u201d to Troilus,\r\nreminding him of his love-pains now all at an end.\r\n\r\n\u201cSo that through me thou standest now in way\r\nTo fare well; I say it for no boast;\r\nAnd know\u2019st thou why? For, shame it is to say,\r\nFor thee have I begun a game to play,\r\nWhich that I never shall do eft* for other,**           *again **another\r\nAlthough he were a thousand fold my brother.\r\n\r\n\u201cThat is to say, for thee I am become,\r\nBetwixte game and earnest, such a mean*               *means, instrument\r\nAs make women unto men to come;\r\nThou know\u2019st thyselfe what that woulde mean;\r\nFor thee have I my niece, of vices clean,*                 *pure, devoid\r\nSo fully made thy gentleness* to trust,              *nobility of nature\r\nThat all shall be right *as thyselfe lust.*              *as you please*\r\n\r\n\u201cBut God, that *all wot,* take I to witness,          *knows everything*\r\nThat never this for covetise* I wrought,                  *greed of gain\r\nBut only to abridge* thy distress,                                *abate\r\nFor which well nigh thou diedst, as me thought;\r\nBut, goode brother, do now as thee ought,\r\nFor Godde\u2019s love, and keep her out of blame;\r\nSince thou art wise, so save thou her name.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor, well thou know\u2019st, the name yet of her,\r\nAmong the people, as who saith hallow\u2019d is;\r\nFor that man is unborn, I dare well swear,\r\nThat ever yet wist* that she did amiss;                            *knew\r\nBut woe is me, that I, that cause all this,\r\nMay thinke that she is my niece dear,\r\nAnd I her eme,* and traitor eke y-fere.**          *uncle <17> **as well\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd were it wist that I, through mine engine,*       *arts, contrivance\r\nHad in my niece put this fantasy*                                 *fancy\r\nTo do thy lust,* and wholly to be thine,                       *pleasure\r\nWhy, all the people would upon it cry,\r\nAnd say, that I the worste treachery\r\nDid in this case, that ever was begun,\r\nAnd she fordone,* and thou right naught y-won.\u201d                  *ruined\r\n\r\nTherefore, ere going a step further, Pandarus prays Troilus to\r\ngive him pledges of secrecy, and impresses on his mind the\r\nmischiefs that flow from vaunting in affairs of love. \u201cOf\r\nkind,\u201d[by his very nature] he says, no vaunter is to be believed:\r\n\r\n\u201cFor a vaunter and a liar all is one;\r\nAs thus: I pose* a woman granteth me                    *suppose, assume\r\nHer love, and saith that other will she none,\r\nAnd I am sworn to holden it secre,\r\nAnd, after, I go tell it two or three;\r\nY-wis, I am a vaunter, at the least,\r\nAnd eke a liar, for I break my hest.*<44>                       *promise\r\n\r\n\u201cNow looke then, if they be not to blame,\r\nSuch manner folk; what shall I call them, what?\r\nThat them avaunt of women, and by name,\r\nThat never yet behight* them this nor that,              *promised (much\r\nNor knowe them no more than mine old hat?                  less granted)\r\nNo wonder is, so God me sende heal,*                         *prosperity\r\nThough women dreade with us men to deal!\r\n\r\n\u201cI say not this for no mistrust of you,\r\nNor for no wise men, but for fooles nice;*                   *silly <45>\r\nAnd for the harm that in the world is now,\r\nAs well for folly oft as for malice;\r\nFor well wot I, that in wise folk that vice\r\nNo woman dreads, if she be well advised;\r\nFor wise men be by fooles\u2019 harm chastised.\u201d*      *corrected, instructed\r\n\r\nSo Pandarus begs Troilus to keep silent, promises to be true all\r\nhis days, and assures him that he shall have all that he will in the\r\nlove of Cressida: \u201cthou knowest what thy lady granted thee; and\r\nday is set the charters up to make.\u201d\r\n\r\nWho mighte telle half the joy and feast\r\nWhich that the soul of Troilus then felt,\r\nHearing th\u2019effect of Pandarus\u2019 behest?\r\nHis olde woe, that made his hearte swelt,*                   *faint, die\r\nGan then for joy to wasten and to melt,\r\nAnd all the reheating <46> of his sighes sore\r\nAt ones fled, he felt of them no more.\r\n\r\nBut right so as these *holtes and these hayes,*       *woods and hedges*\r\nThat have in winter deade been and dry,\r\nReveste them in greene, when that May is,\r\nWhen ev\u2019ry *lusty listeth* best to play;         *pleasant (one) wishes*\r\nRight in that selfe wise, sooth to say,\r\nWax\u2019d suddenly his hearte full of joy,\r\nThat gladder was there never man in Troy.\r\n\r\nTroilus solemnly swears that never, \u201cfor all the good that God\r\nmade under sun,\u201d will he reveal what Pandarus asks him to keep\r\nsecret; offering to die a thousand times, if need were, and to\r\nfollow his friend as a slave all his life, in proof of his gratitude.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut here, with all my heart, I thee beseech,\r\nThat never in me thou deeme* such folly                           *judge\r\nAs I shall say; me thoughte, by thy speech,\r\nThat this which thou me dost for company,*                   *friendship\r\nI shoulde ween it were a bawdery;*                      *a bawd\u2019s action\r\n*I am not wood, all if I lewed be;*                *I am not mad, though\r\nIt is not one, that wot I well, pardie!                  I be unlearned*\r\n\r\n\u201cBut he that goes for gold, or for richess,\r\nOn such messages, call him *as thee lust;*             *what you please*\r\nAnd this that thou dost, call it gentleness,\r\nCompassion, and fellowship, and trust;\r\nDepart it so, for widewhere is wist\r\nHow that there is diversity requer\u2019d\r\nBetwixte thinges like, as I have lear\u2019d. <47>\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd that thou know I think it not nor ween,*                   *suppose\r\nThat this service a shame be or a jape,             *subject for jeering\r\nI have my faire sister Polyxene,\r\nCassandr\u2019, Helene, or any of the frape;*                       *set <48>\r\nBe she never so fair, or well y-shape,\r\nTelle me which thou wilt of ev\u2019ry one,\r\nTo have for thine, and let me then alone.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen, beseeching Pandarus soon to perform out the great\r\nenterprise of crowning his love for Cressida, Troilus bade his\r\nfriend good night. On the morrow Troilus burned as the fire, for\r\nhope and pleasure; yet \u201che not forgot his wise governance [self-\r\ncontrol];\u201d\r\n\r\nBut in himself with manhood gan restrain\r\nEach rakel* deed, and each unbridled cheer,**          *rash **demeanour\r\nThat alle those that live, sooth to sayn,\r\nShould not have wist,* by word or by mannere,                 *suspicion\r\nWhat that he meant, as touching this mattere;\r\nFrom ev\u2019ry wight as far as is the cloud\r\nHe was, so well dissimulate he could.\r\n\r\nAnd all the while that I now devise*                  *describe, narrate\r\nThis was his life: with all his fulle might,\r\nBy day he was in Marte\u2019s high service,\r\nThat is to say, in armes as a knight;\r\nAnd, for the moste part, the longe night\r\nHe lay, and thought how that he mighte serve\r\nHis lady best, her thank* for to deserve.                     *gratitude\r\n\r\nI will not swear, although he laye soft,\r\nThat in his thought he n\u2019as somewhat diseas\u2019d;*                *troubled\r\nNor that he turned on his pillows oft,\r\nAnd would of that him missed have been seis\u2019d;*               *possessed\r\nBut in such case men be not alway pleas\u2019d,\r\nFor aught I wot, no more than was he;\r\nThat can I deem* of possibility.                                  *judge\r\n\r\nBut certain is, to purpose for to go,\r\nThat in this while, as written is in gest,*              *the history of\r\nHe saw his lady sometimes, and also                         these events\r\nShe with him spake, when that she *durst and lest;*  *dared and pleased*\r\nAnd, by their both advice,* as was the best,               *consultation\r\n*Appointed full warily* in this need,        *made careful preparations*\r\nSo as they durst, how far they would proceed.\r\n\r\nBut it was spoken in *so short a wise,   *so briefly, and always in such\r\nIn such await alway, and in such fear,       vigilance and fear of being\r\nLest any wight divinen or devise*                   found out by anyone*\r\nWould of their speech, or to it lay an ear,\r\n*That all this world them not so lefe were,*      *they wanted more than\r\nAs that Cupido would them grace send              anything in the world*\r\nTo maken of their speeches right an end.\r\n\r\nBut thilke little that they spake or wrought,\r\nHis wise ghost* took ay of all such heed,                        *spirit\r\nIt seemed her he wiste what she thought\r\nWithoute word, so that it was no need\r\nTo bid him aught to do, nor aught forbid;\r\nFor which she thought that love, all* came it late,            *although\r\nOf alle joy had open\u2019d her the gate.\r\n\r\nTroilus, by his discretion, his secrecy, and his devotion, made\r\never a deeper lodgment in Cressida\u2019s heart; so that she thanked\r\nGod twenty thousand times that she had met with a man who,\r\nas she felt, \u201cwas to her a wall of steel, and shield from ev\u2019ry\r\ndispleasance;\u201d while Pandarus ever actively fanned the fire. So\r\npassed a \u201ctime sweet\u201d of tranquil and harmonious love the only\r\ndrawback being, that the lovers might not often meet, \u201cnor\r\nleisure have, their speeches to fulfil.\u201d At last Pandarus found an\r\noccasion for bringing them together at his house unknown to\r\nanybody, and put his plan in execution.\r\n\r\nFor he, with great deliberation,\r\nHad ev\u2019ry thing that hereto might avail*                  *be of service\r\nForecast, and put in execution,\r\nAnd neither left for cost nor for travail;*                      *effort\r\nCome if them list, them shoulde nothing fail,\r\n*Nor for to be in aught espied there,\r\nThat wiste he an impossible were.*           *he knew it was impossible*\r\n                                    that they could be discovered there*\r\nAnd dreadeless* it clear was in the wind                  *without doubt\r\nOf ev\u2019ry pie, and every let-game; <49>\r\nNow all is well, for all this world is blind,\r\nIn this mattere, bothe fremd* and tame; <50>                       *wild\r\nThis timber is all ready for to frame;\r\nUs lacketh naught, but that we weete* wo\u2019ld                        *know\r\nA certain hour in which we come sho\u2019ld. <51>\r\n\r\nTroilus had informed his household, that if at any time he was\r\nmissing, he had gone to worship at a certain temple of Apollo,\r\n\u201cand first to see the holy laurel quake, or that the godde spake\r\nout of the tree.\u201d So, at the changing of the moon, when \u201cthe\r\nwelkin shope him for to rain,\u201d [when the sky was preparing to\r\nrain] Pandarus went to invite his niece to supper; solemnly\r\nassuring her that Troilus was out of the town \u2014 though all the\r\ntime he was safely shut up, till midnight, in \u201ca little stew,\u201d\r\nwhence through a hole he joyously watched the arrival of his\r\nmistress and her fair niece Antigone, with half a score of her\r\nwomen. After supper Pandaras did everything to amuse his\r\nniece; \u201che sung, he play\u2019d, he told a tale of Wade;\u201d <52> at last\r\nshe would take her leave; but\r\n\r\nThe bente Moone with her hornes pale,\r\nSaturn, and Jove, in Cancer joined were, <53>\r\nThat made such a rain from heav\u2019n avail,*                       *descend\r\nThat ev\u2019ry manner woman that was there\r\nHad of this smoky rain <54> a very fear;\r\nAt which Pandarus laugh\u2019d, and saide then\r\n\u201cNow were it time a lady to go hen!\u201d*                             *hence\r\n\r\nHe therefore presses Cressida to remain all night; she complies\r\nwith a good grace; and after the sleeping cup has gone round,\r\nall retire to their chambers \u2014 Cressida, that she may not be\r\ndisturbed by the rain and thunder, being lodged in the \u201cinner\r\ncloset\u201d of Pandarus, who, to lull suspicion, occupies the outer\r\nchamber, his niece\u2019s women sleeping in the intermediate\r\napartment. When all is quiet, Pandarus liberates Troilus, and by\r\na secret passage brings him to the chamber of Cressida; then,\r\ngoing forward alone to his niece, after calming her fears of\r\ndiscovery, he tells her that her lover has \u201cthrough a gutter, by a\r\nprivy went,\u201d [a secret passage] come to his house in all this rain,\r\nmad with grief because a friend has told him that she loves\r\nHorastes. Suddenly cold about her heart, Cressida promises that\r\non the morrow she will reassure her lover; but Pandarus scouts\r\nthe notion of delay, laughs to scorn her proposal to send her\r\nring in pledge of her truth, and finally, by pitiable accounts of\r\nTroilus\u2019 grief, induces her to receive him and reassure him at\r\nonce with her own lips.\r\n\r\nThis Troilus full soon on knees him set,\r\nFull soberly, right by her bedde\u2019s head,\r\nAnd in his beste wise his lady gret*                            *greeted\r\nBut Lord! how she wax\u2019d suddenly all red,\r\nAnd thought anon how that she would be dead;\r\nShe coulde not one word aright out bring,\r\nSo suddenly for his sudden coming.\r\n\r\nCressida, though thinking that her servant and her knight should\r\nnot have doubted her truth, yet sought to remove his jealousy,\r\nand offered to submit to any ordeal or oath he might impose;\r\nthen, weeping, she covered her face, and lay silent. \u201cBut now,\u201d\r\nexclaims the poet \u2014\r\n\r\nBut now help, God, to quenchen all this sorrow!\r\nSo hope I that he shall, for he best may;\r\nFor I have seen, of a full misty morrow,*                          *morn\r\nFollowen oft a merry summer\u2019s day,\r\nAnd after winter cometh greene May;\r\nFolk see all day, and eke men read in stories,\r\nThat after sharpe stoures* be victories.           *conflicts, struggles\r\n\r\nBelieving his mistress to be angry, Troilus felt the cramp of\r\ndeath seize on his heart, \u201cand down he fell all suddenly in\r\nswoon.\u201d Pandarus \u201cinto bed him cast,\u201d and called on his niece to\r\npull out the thorn that stuck in his heart, by promising that she\r\nwould \u201call forgive.\u201d She whispered in his ear the assurance that\r\nshe was not wroth; and at last, under her caresses, he recovered\r\nconsciousness, to find her arm laid over him, to hear the\r\nassurance of her forgiveness, and receive her frequent kisses.\r\nFresh vows and explanations passed; and Cressida implored\r\nforgiveness of \u201cher own sweet heart,\u201d for the pain she had\r\ncaused him. Surprised with sudden bliss, Troilus put all in God\u2019s\r\nhand, and strained his lady fast in his arms. \u201cWhat might or may\r\nthe seely [innocent] larke say, when that the sperhawk\r\n[sparrowhawk] hath him in his foot?\u201d\r\n\r\nCressida, which that felt her thus y-take,\r\nAs write clerkes in their bookes old,\r\nRight as an aspen leaf began to quake,\r\nWhen she him felt her in his armes fold;\r\nBut Troilus, all *whole of cares cold,*   *cured of painful sorrows*<55>\r\nGan thanke then the blissful goddes seven. <56>\r\nThus sundry paines bringe folk to heaven.\r\n\r\nThis Troilus her gan in armes strain,\r\nAnd said, \u201cO sweet, as ever may I go\u2019n,*                        *prosper\r\nNow be ye caught, now here is but we twain,\r\nNow yielde you, for other boot* is none.\u201d                        *remedy\r\nTo that Cresside answered thus anon,\r\n\u201cN\u2019 had I ere now, my sweete hearte dear,\r\n*Been yolden,* y-wis, I were now not here!\u201d             *yielded myself*\r\n\r\nO sooth is said, that healed for to be\r\nOf a fever, or other great sickness,\r\nMen muste drink, as we may often see,\r\nFull bitter drink; and for to have gladness\r\nMen drinken often pain and great distress!\r\nI mean it here, as for this adventure,\r\nThat thorough pain hath founden all his cure.\r\n\r\nAnd now sweetnesse seemeth far more sweet,\r\nThat bitterness assayed* was beforn;                        *tasted <57>\r\nFor out of woe in blisse now they fleet,*                   *float, swim\r\nNone such they felte since that they were born;\r\nNow is it better than both two were lorn! <58>\r\nFor love of God, take ev\u2019ry woman heed\r\nTo worke thus, if it come to the need!\r\n\r\nCresside, all quit from ev\u2019ry dread and teen,*                     *pain\r\nAs she that juste cause had him to trust,\r\nMade him such feast,<59> it joy was for to see\u2019n,\r\nWhen she his truth and *intent cleane wist;*            *knew the purity\r\nAnd as about a tree, with many a twist,                  of his purpose*\r\n*Bitrent and writhen* is the sweet woodbind,      *plaited and wreathed*\r\nGan each of them in armes other wind.*                *embrace, encircle\r\n\r\nAnd as the *new abashed* nightingale,          *newly-arrived and timid*\r\nThat stinteth,* first when she beginneth sing,                    *stops\r\nWhen that she heareth any *herde\u2019s tale,*    *the talking of a shepherd*\r\nOr in the hedges any wight stirring;\r\nAnd, after, sicker* out her voice doth ring;                *confidently\r\nRight so Cressida, when *her dreade stent,*           *her doubt ceased*\r\nOpen\u2019d her heart, and told him her intent.*                        *mind\r\n\r\nAnd might as he that sees his death y-shapen,*                 *prepared\r\nAnd dien must, *in aught that he may guess,*       *for all he can tell*\r\nAnd suddenly *rescouse doth him escapen,*    *he is rescued and escapes*\r\nAnd from his death is brought *in sickerness;*               *to safety*\r\nFor all the world, in such present gladness\r\nWas Troilus, and had his lady sweet;\r\nWith worse hap God let us never meet!\r\n\r\nHer armes small, her straighte back and soft,\r\nHer sides longe, fleshly, smooth, and white,\r\nHe gan to stroke; and good thrift* bade full oft               *blessing\r\nOn her snow-white throat, her breastes round and lite;*           *small\r\nThus in this heaven he gan him delight,\r\nAnd therewithal a thousand times her kist,\r\nThat what to do for joy *unneth he wist.*               *he hardly knew*\r\n\r\nThe lovers exchanged vows, and kisses, and embraces, and\r\nspeeches of exalted love, and rings; Cressida gave to Troilus a\r\nbrooch of gold and azure, \u201cin which a ruby set was like a heart;\u201d\r\nand the too short night passed.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhen that the cock, commune astrologer, <60>\r\nGan on his breast to beat, and after crow,\r\nAnd Lucifer, the daye\u2019s messenger,\r\nGan for to rise, and out his beames throw;\r\nAnd eastward rose, to him that could it know,\r\nFortuna Major, <61> then anon Cresseide,\r\nWith hearte sore, to Troilus thus said:\r\n\r\n\u201cMy hearte\u2019s life, my trust, and my pleasance!\r\nThat I was born, alas! that me is woe,\r\nThat day of us must make disseverance!\r\nFor time it is to rise, and hence to go,\r\nOr else I am but lost for evermo\u2019.\r\nO Night! alas! why n\u2019ilt thou o\u2019er us hove,*                      *hover\r\nAs long as when Alcmena lay by Jove? <62>\r\n\r\n\u201cO blacke Night! as folk in bookes read\r\nThat shapen* art by God, this world to hide,                  *appointed\r\nAt certain times, with thy darke weed,*                            *robe\r\nThat under it men might in rest abide,\r\nWell oughte beastes plain, and folke chide,\r\nThat where as Day with labour would us brest,*          *burst, overcome\r\nThere thou right flee\u2019st, and deignest* not us rest.*          *grantest\r\n\r\n\u201cThou dost, alas! so shortly thine office,*                        *duty\r\nThou rakel* Night! that God, maker of kind,                 *rash, hasty\r\nThee for thy haste and thine unkinde vice,\r\nSo fast ay to our hemisphere bind,\r\nThat never more under the ground thou wind;*              *turn, revolve\r\nFor through thy rakel hieing* out of Troy                       *hasting\r\nHave I forgone* thus hastily my joy!\u201d                              *lost\r\n\r\nThis Troilus, that with these wordes felt,\r\nAs thought him then, for piteous distress,\r\nThe bloody teares from his hearte melt,\r\nAs he that never yet such heaviness\r\nAssayed had out of so great gladness,\r\nGan therewithal Cresside, his lady dear,\r\nIn armes strain, and said in this mannere:\r\n\r\n\u201cO cruel Day! accuser of the joy\r\nThat Night and Love have stol\u2019n, and *fast y-wrien!*            *closely\r\nAccursed be thy coming into Troy!                             concealed*\r\nFor ev\u2019ry bow\u2019r* hath one of thy bright eyen:                   *chamber\r\nEnvious Day! Why list thee to espyen?\r\nWhat hast thou lost? Why seekest thou this place?\r\nThere God thy light so quenche, for his grace!\r\n\r\n\u201cAlas! what have these lovers thee aguilt?*    *offended, sinned against\r\nDispiteous* Day, thine be the pains of hell!            *cruel, spiteful\r\nFor many a lover hast thou slain, and wilt;\r\nThy peering in will nowhere let them dwell:\r\nWhat! proff\u2019rest thou thy light here for to sell?\r\nGo sell it them that smalle seales grave!*               *cut devices on\r\nWe will thee not, us needs no day to have.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd eke the Sunne, Titan, gan he chide,\r\nAnd said, \u201cO fool! well may men thee despise!\r\nThat hast the Dawning <63> all night thee beside,\r\nAnd suff\u2019rest her so soon up from thee rise,\r\nFor to disease* us lovers in this wise!                           *annoy\r\nWhat! hold* thy bed, both thou, and eke thy Morrow!                *keep\r\nI bidde* God so give you bothe sorrow!\u201d                            *pray\r\n\r\nThe lovers part with many sighs and protestations of\r\nunswerving and undying love; Cressida responding to the vows\r\nof Troilus with the assurance \u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cThat first shall Phoebus* falle from his sphere,               *the sun\r\nAnd heaven\u2019s eagle be the dove\u2019s fere,\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry rock out of his place start,\r\nEre Troilus out of Cressida\u2019s heart.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen Pandarus visits Troilus in his palace later in the day, he\r\nwarns him not to mar his bliss by any fault of his own:\r\n\r\n\u201cFor, of Fortune\u2019s sharp adversity,\r\nThe worste kind of infortune is this,\r\nA man to have been in prosperity,\r\nAnd it remember when it passed is.<64>\r\nThou art wise enough; forthy,*\u201d do not amiss;                 *therefore\r\nBe not too rakel,* though thou sitte warm;             *rash, over-hasty\r\nFor if thou be, certain it will thee harm.\r\n\r\n\u201cThou art at ease, and hold thee well therein;\r\nFor, all so sure as red is ev\u2019ry fire,\r\nAs great a craft is to keep weal as win; <65>\r\nBridle alway thy speech and thy desire,\r\nFor worldly joy holds not but by a wire;\r\nThat proveth well, it breaks all day so oft,\r\nForthy need is to worke with it soft.\u201d\r\n\r\nTroilus sedulously observes the counsel; and the lovers have\r\nmany renewals of their pleasure, and of their bitter chidings of\r\nthe Day. The effects of love on Troilus are altogether refining\r\nand ennobling; as may be inferred from the song which he sung\r\noften to Pandarus:\r\n\r\nThe Second Song of Troilus.\r\n\r\n\u201cLove, that of Earth and Sea hath governance!\r\nLove, that his hestes* hath in Heaven high!                *commandments\r\nLove, that with a right wholesome alliance\r\nHolds people joined, as him list them guy!*                       *guide\r\nLove, that knitteth law and company,\r\nAnd couples doth in virtue for to dwell,\r\nBind this accord, that I have told, and tell!\r\n\r\n\u201cThat the worlde, with faith which that is stable,\r\nDiverseth so, his *stoundes according;*       *according to its seasons*\r\nThat elementes, that be discordable,*                        *discordant\r\nHolden a bond perpetually during;\r\nThat Phoebus may his rosy day forth bring;\r\nAnd that the Moon hath lordship o\u2019er the night; \u2014\r\nAll this doth Love, ay heried* be his might!                    *praised\r\n\r\n\u201cThat the sea, which that greedy is to flowen,\r\nConstraineth to a certain ende* so                                *limit\r\nHis floodes, that so fiercely they not growen\r\nTo drenchen* earth and all for evermo\u2019;                           *drown\r\nAnd if that Love aught let his bridle go,\r\nAll that now loves asunder shoulde leap,\r\nAnd lost were all that Love holds now *to heap.*         *together <66>*\r\n\r\n\u201cSo woulde God, that author is of kind,\r\nThat with his bond Love of his virtue list\r\nTo cherish heartes, and all fast to bind,\r\nThat from his bond no wight the way out wist!\r\nAnd heartes cold, them would I that he twist,*                   *turned\r\nTo make them love; and that him list ay rue*                  *have pity\r\nOn heartes sore, and keep them that be true.\u201d\r\n\r\nBut Troilus\u2019 love had higher fruits than singing:\r\n\r\nIn alle needes for the towne\u2019s werre*                               *war\r\nHe was, and ay the first in armes dight,*            *equipped, prepared\r\nAnd certainly, but if that bookes err,\r\nSave Hector, most y-dread* of any wight;                        *dreaded\r\nAnd this increase of hardiness* and might                       *courage\r\nCame him of love, his lady\u2019s grace to win,\r\nThat altered his spirit so within.\r\n\r\nIn time of truce, a-hawking would he ride,\r\nOr elles hunt the boare, bear, lioun;\r\nThe smalle beastes let he go beside;<67>\r\nAnd when he came riding into the town,\r\nFull oft his lady, from her window down,\r\nAs fresh as falcon coming out of mew,*                        *cage <68>\r\nFull ready was him goodly to salue.*                             *salute\r\n\r\nAnd most of love and virtue was his speech,\r\nAnd *in despite he had all wretchedness*           *he held in scorn all\r\nAnd doubtless no need was him to beseech             despicable actions*\r\nTo honour them that hadde worthiness,\r\nAnd ease them that weren in distress;\r\nAnd glad was he, if any wight well far\u2019d,\r\nThat lover was, when he it wist or heard.\r\n\r\nFor he held every man lost unless he were in Love\u2019s service;\r\nand, so did the power of Love work within him, that he was ay\r\n[always] humble and benign, and \u201cpride, envy, ire, and avarice,\r\nhe gan to flee, and ev\u2019ry other vice.\u201d\r\n\r\nTHE FOURTH BOOK\r\n\r\nA BRIEF Proem to the Fourth Book prepares us for the\r\ntreachery of Fortune to Troilus; from whom she turned away\r\nher bright face, and took of him no heed, \u201cand cast him clean\r\nout of his lady\u2019s grace, and on her wheel she set up Diomede.\u201d\r\nThen the narrative describes a skirmish in which the Trojans\r\nwere worsted, and Antenor, with many of less note, remained in\r\nthe hands of the Greeks. A truce was proclaimed for the\r\nexchange of prisoners; and as soon as Calchas heard the news,\r\nhe came to the assembly of the Greeks, to \u201cbid a boon.\u201d Having\r\ngained audience, he reminded the besiegers how he had come\r\nfrom Troy to aid and encourage them in their enterprise; willing\r\nto lose all that he had in the city, except his daughter Cressida,\r\nwhom he bitterly reproached himself for leaving behind. And\r\nnow, with streaming tears and pitiful prayer, he besought them\r\nto exchange Antenor for Cressida; assuring them that the day\r\nwas at hand when they should have both town and people. The\r\nsoothsayer\u2019s petition was granted; and the ambassadors charged\r\nto negotiate the exchange, entering the city, told their errand to\r\nKing Priam and his parliament.\r\n\r\nThis Troilus was present in the place\r\nWhen asked was for Antenor Cresside;\r\nFor which to change soon began his face,\r\nAs he that with the wordes well nigh died;\r\nBut natheless he no word to it seid;*                              *said\r\nLest men should his affection espy,\r\nWith manne\u2019s heart he gan his sorrows drie;*                     *endure\r\n\r\nAnd, full of anguish and of grisly dread,\r\nAbode what other lords would to it say,\r\nAnd if they woulde grant, \u2014 as God forbid! \u2014\r\nTh\u2019exchange of her, then thought he thinges tway:*                  *two\r\nFirst, for to save her honour; and what way\r\nHe mighte best th\u2019exchange of her withstand;\r\nThis cast he then how all this mighte stand.\r\n\r\nLove made him alle *prest to do her bide,*      *eager to make her stay*\r\nAnd rather die than that she shoulde go;\r\nBut Reason said him, on the other side,\r\n\u201cWithout th\u2019assent of her, do thou not so,\r\nLest for thy worke she would be thy foe;\r\nAnd say, that through thy meddling is y-blow*    *divulged, blown abroad\r\nYour bothe love, where it was *erst unknow.\u201d*       *previously unknown*\r\n\r\nFor which he gan deliberate for the best,\r\nThat though the lordes woulde that she went,\r\nHe woulde suffer them grant what *them lest,*             *they pleased*\r\nAnd tell his lady first what that they meant;\r\nAnd, when that she had told him her intent,\r\nThereafter would he worken all so blive,*                      *speedily\r\nThough all the world against it woulde strive.\r\n\r\nHector, which that full well the Greekes heard,\r\nFor Antenor how they would have Cresseide,\r\nGan it withstand, and soberly answer\u2019d;\r\n\u201cSirs, she is no prisoner,\u201d  he said;\r\n\u201cI know not on you who this charge laid;\r\nBut, for my part, ye may well soon him tell,\r\nWe use* here no women for to sell.\u201d                      *are accustomed\r\n\r\nThe noise of the people then upstart at once,\r\nAs breme* as blaze of straw y-set on fire              *violent, furious\r\nFor Infortune* woulde for the nonce                          *Misfortune\r\nThey shoulde their confusion desire\r\n\u201cHector,\u201d quoth they, \u201cwhat ghost* may you inspire               *spirit\r\nThis woman thus to shield, and *do us* lose                *cause us to*\r\nDan Antenor? \u2014 a wrong way now ye choose, \u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cThat is so wise, and eke so bold baroun;\r\nAnd we have need of folk, as men may see\r\nHe eke is one the greatest of this town;\r\nO Hector! lette such fantasies be!\r\nO King Priam!\u201d quoth they, \u201clo! thus say we,\r\nThat all our will is to forego Cresseide;\u201d\r\nAnd to deliver Antenor they pray\u2019d.\r\n\r\nThough Hector often prayed them \u201cnay,\u201d it was resolved that\r\nCressida should be given up for Antenor; then the parliament\r\ndispersed. Troilus hastened home to his chamber, shut himself\r\nup alone, and threw himself on his bed.\r\n\r\nAnd as in winter leaves be bereft,\r\nEach after other, till the tree be bare,\r\nSo that there is but bark and branch y-left,\r\nLay Troilus, bereft of each welfare,\r\nY-bounden in the blacke bark of care,\r\nDisposed *wood out of his wit to braid,*       *to go out of his senses*\r\n*So sore him sat* the changing of Cresseide.        *so ill did he bear*\r\n\r\nHe rose him up, and ev\u2019ry door he shet,*                           *shut\r\nAnd window eke; and then this sorrowful man\r\nUpon his bedde\u2019s side adown him set,\r\nFull like a dead image, pale and wan,\r\nAnd in his breast the heaped woe began\r\nOut burst, and he to worken in this wise,\r\nIn his woodness,* as I shall you devise.**             *madness **relate\r\n\r\nRight as the wilde bull begins to spring,\r\nNow here, now there, y-darted* to the heart,        *pierced with a dart\r\nAnd of his death roareth in complaining;\r\nRight so gan he about the chamber start,\r\nSmiting his breast aye with his fistes smart;*       *painfully, cruelly\r\nHis head to the wall, his body to the ground,\r\nFull oft he swapt,* himselfe to confound.                *struck, dashed\r\n\r\nHis eyen then, for pity of his heart,\r\nOut streameden as swifte welles* tway;                        *fountains\r\nThe highe sobbes of his sorrow\u2019s smart\r\nHis speech him reft; unnethes* might he say,                   *scarcely\r\n\u201cO Death, alas! *why n\u2019ilt thou do me dey?*            *why will you not\r\nAccursed be that day which that Nature                     make me die?*\r\nShope* me to be a living creature!\u201d                              *shaped\r\n\r\nBitterly reviling Fortune, and calling on Love to explain why his\r\nhappiness with Cressicla should be thus repealed, Troilus\r\ndeclares that, while he lives, he will bewail his misfortune in\r\nsolitude, and will never see it shine or rain, but will end his\r\nsorrowful life in darkness, and die in distress.\r\n\r\n\u201cO weary ghost, that errest to and fro!\r\nWhy n\u2019ilt* thou fly out of the woefulest                       *wilt not\r\nBody that ever might on grounde go?\r\nO soule, lurking in this woeful nest!\r\nFlee forth out of my heart, and let it brest,*                    *burst\r\nAnd follow alway Cresside, thy lady dear!\r\nThy righte place is now no longer here.\r\n\r\n\u201cO woeful eyen two! since your disport*                         *delight\r\nWas all to see Cressida\u2019s eyen bright,\r\nWhat shall ye do, but, for my discomfort,\r\nStande for naught, and weepen out your sight,\r\nSince she is quench\u2019d, that wont was you to light?\r\nIn vain, from this forth, have I eyen tway\r\nY-formed, since your virtue is away!\r\n\r\n\u201cO my Cresside! O lady sovereign\r\nOf thilke* woeful soule that now cryeth!                           *this\r\nWho shall now give comfort to thy pain?\r\nAlas! no wight; but, when my hearte dieth,\r\nMy spirit, which that so unto you hieth,*                     *hasteneth\r\nReceive *in gree,* for that shall ay you serve;            *with favour*\r\n*Forthy no force is* though the body sterve.*      *therefore no matter*\r\n                                                                    *die\r\n\u201cO ye lovers, that high upon the wheel\r\nBe set of Fortune, in good adventure,\r\nGod lene* that ye find ay** love of steel,<69>           *grant **always\r\nAnd longe may your life in joy endure!\r\nBut when ye come by my sepulture,*                            *sepulchre\r\nRemember that your fellow resteth there;\r\nFor I lov\u2019d eke, though I unworthy were.\r\n\r\n\u201cO old, unwholesome, and mislived man,\r\nCalchas I mean, alas! what ailed thee\r\nTo be a Greek, since thou wert born Trojan?\r\nO Calchas! which that will my bane* be,                     *destruction\r\nIn cursed time wert thou born for me!\r\nAs woulde blissful Jove, for his joy,\r\nThat I thee hadde where I would in Troy!\u201d\r\n\r\nSoon Troilus, through excess of grief, fell into a trance; in\r\nwhich he was found by Pandarus, who had gone almost\r\ndistracted at the news that Cressida was to be exchanged for\r\nAntenor. At his friend\u2019s arrival, Troilus \u201cgan as the snow against\r\nthe sun to melt;\u201d the two mingled their tears a while; then\r\nPandarus strove to comfort the woeful lover. He admitted that\r\nnever had a stranger ruin than this been wrought by Fortune:\r\n\r\n\u201cBut tell me this, why thou art now so mad\r\nTo sorrow thus? Why li\u2019st thou in this wise,\r\nSince thy desire all wholly hast thou had,\r\nSo that by right it ought enough suffice?\r\nBut I, that never felt in my service\r\nA friendly cheer or looking of an eye,\r\nLet me thus weep and wail until I die. <70>\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd over all this, as thou well wost* thy selve,               *knowest\r\nThis town is full of ladies all about,\r\nAnd, *to my doom,* fairer than suche twelve             *in my judgment*\r\nAs ever she was, shall I find in some rout,*                    *company\r\nYea! one or two, withouten any doubt:\r\nForthy* be glad, mine owen deare brother!                     *therefore\r\nIf she be lost, we shall recover another.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat! God forbid alway that each pleasance\r\nIn one thing were, and in none other wight;\r\nIf one can sing, another can well dance;\r\nIf this be goodly, she is glad and light;\r\nAnd this is fair, and that can good aright;\r\nEach for his virtue holden is full dear,\r\nBoth heroner, and falcon for rivere. <71>\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd eke as writ Zausis,<72> that was full wise,\r\nThe newe love out chaseth oft the old,\r\nAnd upon new case lieth new advice; <73>\r\nThink eke thy life to save thou art hold;*                        *bound\r\nSuch fire *by process shall of kinde cold;*          *shall grow cold by\r\nFor, since it is but casual pleasance,                process of nature*\r\nSome case* shall put it out of remembrance.                      *chance\r\n\r\n\u201cFor, all so sure as day comes after night,\r\nThe newe love, labour, or other woe,\r\nOr elles seldom seeing of a wight,\r\nDo old affections all *over go;*                              *overcome*\r\nAnd for thy part, thou shalt have one of tho*                     *those\r\nT\u2019abridge with thy bitter paine\u2019s smart;\r\nAbsence of her shall drive her out of heart.\u201d\r\n\r\nThese wordes said he *for the nones all,*           *only for the nonce*\r\nTo help his friend, lest he for sorrow died;\r\nFor, doubteless, to do his woe to fall,*          *make his woe subside*\r\nHe raughte* not what unthrift** that he said;             *cared **folly\r\nBut Troilus, that nigh for sorrow died,\r\nTook little heed of all that ever he meant;\r\nOne ear it heard, at th\u2019other out it went.\r\n\r\nBut, at the last, he answer\u2019d and said,\r\n\u201cFriend, This leachcraft, or y-healed thus to be,\r\nWere well sitting* if that I were a fiend,                       *recked\r\nTo traisen* her that true is unto me:                            *betray\r\nI pray God, let this counsel never the,*                         *thrive\r\nBut do me rather sterve* anon right here,                           *die\r\nEre I thus do, as thou me wouldest lear!\u201d*                        *teach\r\n\r\nTroilus protests that his lady shall have him wholly hers till\r\ndeath; and, debating the counsels of his friend, declares that\r\neven if he would, he could not love another. Then he points out\r\nthe folly of not lamenting the loss of Cressida because she had\r\nbeen his in ease and felicity \u2014  while Pandarus himself, though\r\nhe thought it so light to change to and fro in love, had not done\r\nbusily his might to change her that wrought him all the woe of\r\nhis unprosperous suit.\r\n\r\n\u201cIf thou hast had in love ay yet mischance,\r\nAnd canst it not out of thine hearte drive,\r\nI that lived in lust* and in pleasance                          *delight\r\nWith her, as much as creature alive,\r\nHow should I that forget, and that so blive?*                   *quickly\r\nO where hast thou been so long hid in mew,*<74>                    *cage\r\nThat canst so well and formally argue!\u201d\r\n\r\nThe lover condemns the whole discourse of his friend as\r\nunworthy, and calls on Death, the ender of all sorrows, to come\r\nto him and quench his heart with his cold stroke. Then he distils\r\nanew in tears, \u201cas liquor out of alembic;\u201d and Pandarus is silent\r\nfor a while, till he bethinks him to recommend to Troilus the\r\ncarrying off of Cressida. \u201cArt thou in Troy, and hast no\r\nhardiment [daring, boldness] to take a woman which that loveth\r\nthee?\u201d  But Troilus reminds his counsellor that all the war had\r\ncome from the ravishing of a woman by might (the abduction of\r\nHelen by Paris); and that it would not beseem him to withstand\r\nhis father\u2019s grant, since the lady was to be changed for the\r\ntown\u2019s good. He has dismissed the thought of asking Cressida\r\nfrom his father, because that would be to injure her fair fame, to\r\nno purpose, for Priam could not overthrow the decision of \u201cso\r\nhigh a place as parliament;\u201d while most of all he fears to perturb\r\nher heart with violence, to the slander of her name \u2014 for he\r\nmust hold her honour dearer than himself in every case, as\r\nlovers ought of right:\r\n\r\n\u201cThus am I in desire and reason twight:*                        *twisted\r\nDesire, for to disturbe her, me redeth;*                     *counseleth\r\nAnd Reason will not, so my hearte dreadeth.\u201d*               *is in doubt\r\n\r\nThus weeping, that he coulde never cease\r\nHe said, \u201cAlas! how shall I, wretche, fare?\r\nFor well feel I alway my love increase,\r\nAnd hope is less and less alway, Pandare!\r\nIncreasen eke the causes of my care;\r\nSo well-away! *why n\u2019 ill my hearte brest?*                *why will not\r\nFor us in love there is but little rest.\u201d               my heart break?*\r\n\r\nPandare answered, \u201cFriend, thou may\u2019st for me\r\nDo as thee list;* but had I it so hot,                           *please\r\nAnd thine estate,* she shoulde go with me!                         *rank\r\nThough all this town cried on this thing by note,\r\nI would not set* all that noise a groat;                          *value\r\nFor when men have well cried, then will they rown,*             *whisper\r\nEke wonder lasts but nine nights ne\u2019er in town.\r\n\r\n\u201cDivine not in reason ay so deep,\r\nNor courteously, but help thyself anon;\r\nBet* is that others than thyselfe weep;                          *better\r\nAnd namely, since ye two be all one,\r\nRise up, for, by my head, she shall not go\u2019n!\r\nAnd rather be in blame a little found,\r\nThan sterve* here as a gnat withoute wound!                         *die\r\n\r\n\u201cIt is no shame unto you, nor no vice,\r\nHer to withholde, that ye loveth most;\r\nParauntre* she might holde thee for nice,**      *peradventure **foolish\r\nTo let her go thus unto the Greeks\u2019 host;\r\nThink eke, Fortune, as well thyselfe wost,\r\nHelpeth the hardy man to his emprise,\r\nAnd weiveth* wretches for their cowardice.                    *forsaketh\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd though thy lady would a lite* her grieve,                   *little\r\nThou shalt thyself thy peace thereafter make;\r\nBut, as to me, certain I cannot \u2019lieve\r\nThat she would it as now for evil take:\r\nWhy shoulde then for fear thine hearte quake?\r\nThink eke how Paris hath, that is thy brother,\r\nA love; and why shalt thou not have another?\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, Troilus, one thing I dare thee swear,\r\nThat if Cressida, which that is thy lief,*                         *love\r\nNow loveth thee as well as thou dost her,\r\nGod help me so, she will not take agrief*                         *amiss\r\nThough thou *anon do boot in* this mischief;           *provide a remedy\r\nAnd if she willeth from thee for to pass,                   immediately*\r\nThen is she false, so love her well the lass.*                     *less\r\n\r\n\u201cForthy,* take heart, and think, right as a knight,           *therefore\r\nThrough love is broken all day ev\u2019ry law;\r\nKithe* now somewhat thy courage and thy might;                     *show\r\nHave mercy on thyself, *for any awe;*             *in spite of any fear*\r\nLet not this wretched woe thine hearte gnaw;\r\nBut, manly, set the world on six and seven, <75>\r\nAnd, if thou die a martyr, go to heaven.\u201d\r\n\r\nPandarus promises his friend all aid in the enterprise; it is agreed\r\nthat Cressida shall be carried off, but only with her own\r\nconsent; and Pandarus sets out for his niece\u2019s house, to arrange\r\nan interview. Meantime Cressida has heard the news; and,\r\ncaring nothing for her father, but everything for Troilus, she\r\nburns in love and fear, unable to tell what she shall do.\r\n\r\nBut, as men see in town, and all about,\r\nThat women use* friendes to visite,                      *are accustomed\r\nSo to Cresside of women came a rout,*                             *troop\r\nFor piteous joy, and *weened her delight,*       *thought to please her*\r\nAnd with their tales, *dear enough a mite,*           *not worth a mite*\r\nThese women, which that in the city dwell,\r\nThey set them down, and said as I shall tell.\r\n\r\nQuoth first that one, \u201cI am glad, truely,\r\nBecause of you, that shall your father see;\u201d\r\nAnother said, \u201cY-wis, so am not I,\r\nFor all too little hath she with us be.\u201d*                          *been\r\nQuoth then the third, \u201cI hope, y-wis, that she\r\nShall bringen us the peace on ev\u2019ry side;\r\nThen, when she goes, Almighty God her guide!\u201d\r\n\r\nThose wordes, and those womanishe thinges,\r\nShe heard them right as though she thennes* were,       *thence; in some\r\nFor, God it wot, her heart on other thing is;                other place\r\nAlthough the body sat among them there,\r\nHer advertence* is always elleswhere;                         *attention\r\nFor Troilus full fast her soule sought;\r\nWithoute word, on him alway she thought.\r\n\r\nThese women that thus weened her to please,\r\nAboute naught gan all their tales spend;\r\nSuch vanity ne can do her no ease,\r\nAs she that all this meane while brenn\u2019d\r\nOf other passion than that they wend;*                 *weened, supposed\r\nSo that she felt almost her hearte die\r\nFor woe, and weary* of that company.                          *weariness\r\n\r\nFor whiche she no longer might restrain\r\nHer teares, they began so up to well,\r\nThat gave signes of her bitter pain,\r\nIn which her spirit was, and muste dwell,\r\nRememb\u2019ring her from heav\u2019n into which hell\r\nShe fallen was, since she forwent* the sight                       *lost\r\nOf Troilus; and sorrowfully she sight.*                          *sighed\r\n\r\nAnd thilke fooles, sitting her about,\r\nWeened that she had wept and siked* sore,                        *sighed\r\nBecause that she should out of that rout*                       *company\r\nDepart, and never playe with them more;\r\nAnd they that hadde knowen her of yore\r\nSaw her so weep, and thought it kindeness,\r\nAnd each of them wept eke for her distress.\r\n\r\nAnd busily they gonnen* her comfort                               *began\r\nOf thing, God wot, on which she little thought;\r\nAnd with their tales weened her disport,\r\nAnd to be glad they her besought;\r\nBut such an ease therewith they in her wrought,\r\nRight as a man is eased for to feel,\r\nFor ache of head, to claw him on his heel.\r\n\r\nBut, after all this nice* vanity,                                 *silly\r\nThey took their leave, and home they wenten all;\r\nCressida, full of sorrowful pity,\r\nInto her chamber up went out of the hall,\r\nAnd on her bed she gan for dead to fall,\r\nIn purpose never thennes for to rise;\r\nAnd thus she wrought, as I shall you devise.*                   *narrate\r\n\r\nShe rent her sunny hair, wrung her hands, wept, and bewailed\r\nher fate; vowing that, since, \u201cfor the cruelty,\u201d she could handle\r\nneither sword nor dart, she would abstain from meat and drink\r\nuntil she died. As she lamented, Pandarus entered, making her\r\ncomplain a thousand times more at the thought of all the joy\r\nwhich he had given her with her lover; but he somewhat\r\nsoothed her by the prospect of Troilus\u2019s visit, and by the\r\ncounsel to contain her grief when he should come. Then\r\nPandarus went in search of Troilus, whom he found solitary in a\r\ntemple, as one that had ceased to care for life:\r\n\r\nFor right thus was his argument alway:\r\nHe said he was but lorne,* well-away!                      *lost, ruined\r\n\u201cFor all that comes, comes by necessity;\r\nThus, to be lorn,* it is my destiny.                       *lost, ruined\r\n\r\n\u201cFor certainly this wot I well,\u201d he said,\r\n\u201cThat foresight of the divine purveyance*                    *providence\r\nHath seen alway me to forgo* Cresseide,                            *lose\r\nSince God sees ev\u2019ry thing, *out of doubtance,*          *without doubt*\r\nAnd them disposeth, through his ordinance,\r\nIn their merites soothly for to be,\r\nAs they should come by predestiny.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut natheless, alas! whom shall I \u2019lieve?\r\nFor there be greate clerkes* many one                          *scholars\r\nThat destiny through argumentes preve,                            *prove\r\nAnd some say that needly* there is none,                    *necessarily\r\nBut that free choice is giv\u2019n us ev\u2019ry one;\r\nO well-away! so sly are clerkes old,\r\nThat I n\u2019ot* whose opinion I may hold. <76>                    *know not\r\n\r\n\u201cFor some men say, if God sees all beforn,\r\nGodde may not deceived be, pardie!\r\nThen must it fallen,* though men had it sworn,           *befall, happen\r\nThat purveyance hath seen before to be;\r\nWherefore I say, that from etern* if he                        *eternity\r\nHath wist* before our thought eke as our deed,                    *known\r\nWe have no free choice, as these clerkes read.*                *maintain\r\n\r\n\u201cFor other thought, nor other deed also,\r\nMight never be, but such as purveyance,\r\nWhich may not be deceived never mo\u2019,\r\nHath feeled* before, without ignorance;                       *perceived\r\nFor if there mighte be a variance,\r\nTo writhen out from Godde\u2019s purveying,\r\nThere were no prescience of thing coming,\r\n\r\n\u201cBut it were rather an opinion\r\nUncertain, and no steadfast foreseeing;\r\nAnd, certes, that were an abusion,*                            *illusion\r\nThat God should have no perfect clear weeting,*               *knowledge\r\nMore than we men, that have *doubtous weening;*        *dubious opinion*\r\nBut such an error *upon God to guess,*                *to impute to God*\r\nWere false, and foul, and wicked cursedness.*                   *impiety\r\n\r\n\u201cEke this is an opinion of some\r\nThat have their top full high and smooth y-shore, <77>\r\nThey say right thus, that thing is not to come,\r\nFor* that the prescience hath seen before                       *because\r\nThat it shall come; but they say, that therefore\r\nThat it shall come, therefore the purveyance\r\nWot it before, withouten ignorance.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, in this manner, this necessity\r\n*Returneth in his part contrary again;*          *reacts in the opposite\r\nFor needfully behoves it not to be,                           direction*\r\nThat thilke thinges *fallen in certain,*              *certainly happen*\r\nThat be purvey\u2019d; but needly, as they sayn,\r\nBehoveth it that thinges, which that fall,\r\nThat they in certain be purveyed all.\r\n\r\n\u201cI mean as though I labour\u2019d me in this\r\nTo inquire which thing cause of which thing be;\r\nAs, whether that the prescience of God is\r\nThe certain cause of the necessity\r\nOf thinges that to come be, pardie!\r\nOr if necessity of thing coming\r\nBe cause certain of the purveying.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut now *enforce I me not* in shewing             *I do not lay stress*\r\nHow th\u2019order of causes stands; but well wot I,\r\nThat it behoveth, that the befalling\r\nOf thinges wiste* before certainly,                               *known\r\nBe necessary, *all seem it not* thereby,     *though it does not appear*\r\nThat prescience put falling necessair\r\nTo thing to come, all fall it foul or fair.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor, if there sit a man yond on a see,*                           *seat\r\nThen by necessity behoveth it\r\nThat certes thine opinion sooth be,\r\nThat weenest, or conjectest,* that he sit;                 *conjecturest\r\nAnd, furtherover, now againward yet,\r\nLo! right so is it on the part contrary;\r\nAs thus, \u2014 now hearken, for I will not tarry; \u2014\r\n\r\n\u201cI say that if th\u2019opinion of thee\r\nBe sooth, for that he sits, then say I this,\r\nThat he must sitte by necessity;\r\nAnd thus necessity in either is,\r\nFor in him need of sitting is, y-wis,\r\nAnd, in thee, need of sooth; and thus forsooth\r\nThere must necessity be in you both.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut thou may\u2019st say he sits not therefore\r\nThat thine opinion of his sitting sooth\r\nBut rather, for the man sat there before,\r\nTherefore is thine opinion sooth, y-wis;\r\nAnd I say, though the cause of sooth of this\r\nComes of his sitting, yet necessity\r\nIs interchanged both in him and thee.\r\n\r\n\u201cThus in the same wise, out of doubtance,\r\nI may well maken, as it seemeth me,\r\nMy reasoning of Godde\u2019s purveyance,\r\nAnd of the thinges that to come be;\r\nBy whiche reason men may well y-see\r\nThat thilke* thinges that in earthe fall,**              *those **happen\r\nThat by necessity they comen all.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor although that a thing should come, y-wis,\r\nTherefore it is purveyed certainly,\r\nNot that it comes for it purveyed is;\r\nYet, natheless, behoveth needfully\r\nThat thing to come be purvey\u2019d truely;\r\nOr elles thinges that purveyed be,\r\nThat they betide* by necessity.                                  *happen\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd this sufficeth right enough, certain,\r\nFor to destroy our free choice ev\u2019ry deal;\r\nBut now is this abusion,* to sayn              *illusion, self-deception\r\nThat falling of the thinges temporel\r\nIs cause of Godde\u2019s prescience eternel;\r\nNow truely that is a false sentence,*                 *opinion, judgment\r\nThat thing to come should cause his prescience.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat might I ween, an\u2019* I had such a thought,                       *if\r\nBut that God purveys thing that is to come,\r\nFor that it is to come, and elles nought?\r\nSo might I ween that thinges, all and some,\r\nThat *whilom be befall and overcome,*                     *have happened\r\nBe cause of thilke sov\u2019reign purveyance,                  in times past*\r\nThat foreknows all, withouten ignorance.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd over all this, yet say I more thereto, \u2014\r\nThat right as when I wot there is a thing,\r\nY-wis, that thing must needfully be so;\r\nEke right so, when I wot a thing coming,\r\nSo must it come; and thus the befalling\r\nOf thinges that be wist before the tide,*                          *time\r\nThey may not be eschew\u2019d* on any side.\u201d                         *avoided\r\n\r\nWhile Troilus was in all this heaviness, disputing with himself in\r\nthis matter, Pandarus joined him, and told him the result of the\r\ninterview with Cressida; and at night the lovers met, with what\r\nsighs and tears may be imagined. Cressida swooned away, so\r\nthat Troilus took her for dead; and, having tenderly laid out her\r\nlimbs, as one preparing a corpse for the bier, he drew his sword\r\nto slay himself upon her body. But, as God would, just at that\r\nmoment she awoke out of her swoon; and by and by the pair\r\nbegan to talk of their prospects. Cressida declared the opinion,\r\nsupporting it at great length and with many reasons, that there\r\nwas no cause for half so much woe on either part. Her\r\nsurrender, decreed by the parliament, could not be resisted; it\r\nwas quite easy for them soon to meet again; she would bring\r\nthings about that she should be back in Troy within a week or\r\ntwo; she would take advantage of the constant coming and\r\ngoing while the truce lasted; and the issue would be, that the\r\nTrojans would have both her and Antenor; while, to facilitate\r\nher return, she had devised a stratagem by which, working on\r\nher father\u2019s avarice, she might tempt him to desert from the\r\nGreek camp back to the city. \u201cAnd truly,\u201d says the poet, having\r\nfully reported her plausible speech,\r\n\r\nAnd truely, as written well I find,\r\nThat all this thing was said *of good intent,*               *sincerely*\r\nAnd that her hearte true was and kind\r\nTowardes him, and spake right as she meant,\r\nAnd that she starf* for woe nigh when she went,                    *died\r\nAnd was in purpose ever to be true;\r\nThus write they that of her workes knew.\r\n\r\nThis Troilus, with heart and ears y-sprad,*                    *all open\r\nHeard all this thing devised to and fro,\r\nAnd verily it seemed that he had\r\n*The selfe wit;* but yet to let her go                *the same opinion*\r\nHis hearte misforgave* him evermo\u2019;                             *misgave\r\nBut, finally, he gan his hearte wrest*                           *compel\r\nTo truste her, and took it for the best.\r\n\r\nFor which the great fury of his penance*                      *suffering\r\nWas quench\u2019d with hope, and therewith them between\r\nBegan for joy the amorouse dance;\r\nAnd as the birdes, when the sun is sheen,                        *bright\r\nDelighten in their song, in leaves green,\r\nRight so the wordes that they spake y-fere*                    *together\r\nDelighten them, and make their heartes cheer.*                     *glad\r\n\r\nYet Troilus was not so well at ease, that he did not earnestly\r\nentreat Cressida to observe her promise; for, if she came not\r\ninto Troy at the set day, he should never have health, honour, or\r\njoy; and he feared that the stratagem by which she would try to\r\nlure her father back would fail, so that she might be compelled\r\nto remain among the Greeks. He would rather have them steal\r\naway together, with sufficient treasure to maintain them all their\r\nlives; and even if they went in their bare shirt, he had kin and\r\nfriends elsewhere, who would welcome and honour them.\r\n\r\nCressida, with a sigh, right in this wise\r\nAnswer\u2019d; \u201cY-wis, my deare hearte true,\r\nWe may well steal away, as ye devise,\r\nAnd finde such unthrifty wayes new;\r\nBut afterward full sore *it will us rue;*            *we will regret it*\r\nAnd help me God so at my moste need\r\nAs causeless ye suffer all this dread!\r\n\r\n\u201cFor thilke* day that I for cherishing                        *that same\r\nOr dread of father, or of other wight,\r\nOr for estate, delight, or for wedding,\r\nBe false to you, my Troilus, my knight,\r\nSaturne\u2019s daughter Juno, through her might,\r\nAs wood* as Athamante <78> do me dwell                              *mad\r\nEternally in Styx the pit of hell!\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd this, on ev\u2019ry god celestial\r\nI swear it you, and eke on each goddess,\r\nOn ev\u2019ry nymph, and deity infernal,\r\nOn Satyrs and on Faunes more or less,\r\nThat *halfe goddes* be of wilderness;                          *demigods\r\nAnd Atropos my thread of life to-brest,*                  *break utterly\r\nIf I be false! now trow* me if you lest.**             *believe **please\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd thou Simois, <79> that as an arrow clear\r\nThrough Troy ay runnest downward to the sea,\r\nBear witness of this word that said is here!\r\nThat thilke day that I untrue be\r\nTo Troilus, mine owen hearte free,\r\nThat thou returne backward to thy well,\r\nAnd I with body and soul sink in hell!\u201d\r\n\r\nEven yet Troilus was not wholly content, and urged anew his\r\nplan of secret flight; but Cressida turned upon him with the\r\ncharge that he mistrusted her causelessly, and demanded of him\r\nthat he should be faithful in her absence, else she must die at her\r\nreturn. Troilus promised faithfulness in far simpler and briefer\r\nwords than Cressida had used.\r\n\r\n\u201cGrand mercy, good heart mine, y-wis,\u201d quoth she;\r\n\u201cAnd blissful Venus let me never sterve,*                           *die\r\nEre I may stand *of pleasance in degree          in a position to reward\r\nTo quite him*  that so well can deserve;         him well with pleasure*\r\nAnd while that God my wit will me conserve,\r\nI shall so do; so true I have you found,\r\nThat ay honour to me-ward shall rebound.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor truste well that your estate* royal,                          *rank\r\nNor vain delight, nor only worthiness\r\nOf you in war or tourney martial,\r\nNor pomp, array, nobley, nor eke richess,\r\nNe made me to rue* on your distress;                          *take pity\r\nBut moral virtue, grounded upon truth,\r\nThat was the cause I first had on you ruth.*                       *pity\r\n\r\n\u201cEke gentle heart, and manhood that ye had,\r\nAnd that ye had, \u2014 as me thought, \u2014 in despite\r\nEvery thing that *sounded unto* bad,        *tended unto, accorded with*\r\nAs rudeness, and peoplish* appetite,                             *vulgar\r\nAnd that your reason bridled your delight;\r\nThis made, aboven ev\u2019ry creature,\r\nThat I was yours, and shall while I may dure.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd this may length of yeares not fordo,*             *destroy, do away\r\nNor remuable* Fortune deface;                                  *unstable\r\nBut Jupiter, that of his might may do\r\nThe sorrowful to be glad, so give us grace,\r\nEre nightes ten to meeten in this place,\r\nSo that it may your heart and mine suffice!\r\nAnd fare now well, for time is that ye rise.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe lovers took a heart-rending adieu; and Troilus, suffering\r\nunimaginable anguish, \u201cwithoute more, out of the chamber\r\nwent.\u201d\r\n\r\nTHE FIFTH BOOK.\r\n\r\nAPPROACHE gan the fatal destiny\r\nThat Jovis hath in disposition,\r\nAnd to you angry Parcae,* Sisters three,                      *The Fates\r\nCommitteth to do execution;\r\nFor which Cressida must out of the town,\r\nAnd Troilus shall dwelle forth in pine,*                           *pain\r\nTill Lachesis his thread no longer twine.*                        *twist\r\n\r\nThe golden-tressed Phoebus, high aloft,\r\nThries* had alle, with his beames clear,                         *thrice\r\nThe snowes molt,* and Zephyrus as oft                            *melted\r\nY-brought again the tender leaves green,\r\nSince that *the son of Hecuba the queen*                  *Troilus <80>*\r\nBegan to love her first, for whom his sorrow\r\nWas all, that she depart should on the morrow\r\n\r\nIn the morning, Diomede was ready to escort Cressida to the\r\nGreek host; and Troilus, seeing him mount his horse, could with\r\ndifficulty resist an impulse to slay him \u2014 but restrained himself,\r\nlest his lady should be also slain in the tumult. When Cressida\r\nwas ready to go,\r\n\r\nThis Troilus, in guise of courtesy,\r\nWith hawk on hand, and with a huge rout*                 *retinue, crowd\r\nOf knightes, rode, and did her company,\r\nPassing alle the valley far without;\r\nAnd farther would have ridden, out of doubt,\r\nFull fain,* and woe was him to go so soon,                       *gladly\r\nBut turn he must, and it was eke to do\u2019n.\r\n\r\nAnd right with that was Antenor y-come\r\nOut of the Greekes\u2019 host, and ev\u2019ry wight\r\nWas of it glad, and said he was welcome;\r\nAnd Troilus, *all n\u2019ere his hearte light,*           *although his heart\r\nHe pained him, with all his fulle might,                  was not light*\r\nHim to withhold from weeping at the least;\r\nAnd Antenor he kiss\u2019d and made feast.\r\n\r\nAnd therewithal he must his leave take,\r\nAnd cast his eye upon her piteously,\r\nAnd near he rode, his cause* for to make               *excuse, occasion\r\nTo take her by the hand all soberly;\r\nAnd, Lord! so she gan weepe tenderly!\r\nAnd he full soft and slily gan her say,\r\n\u201cNow hold your day, and *do me not to dey.\u201d*        *do not make me die*\r\n\r\nWith that his courser turned he about,\r\nWith face pale, and unto Diomede\r\nNo word he spake, nor none of all his rout;\r\nOf which the son of Tydeus <81> tooke heed,\r\nAs he that couthe* more than the creed <82>                        *knew\r\nIn such a craft, and by the rein her hent;*                        *took\r\nAnd Troilus to Troye homeward went.\r\n\r\nThis Diomede, that led her by the bridle,\r\nWhen that he saw the folk of Troy away,\r\nThought, \u201cAll my labour shall not be *on idle,*               *in  vain*\r\nIf that I may, for somewhat shall I say;\r\nFor, at the worst, it may yet short our way;\r\nI have heard say eke, times twice twelve,\r\nHe is a fool that will forget himselve.\u201d\r\n\r\nBut natheless, this thought he well enough,\r\nThat \u201cCertainly I am aboute naught,\r\nIf that I speak of love, or *make it tough;*           *make any violent\r\nFor, doubteless, if she have in her thought            immediate effort*\r\nHim that I guess, he may not be y-brought\r\nSo soon away; but I shall find a mean,\r\nThat she *not wit as yet shall* what I mean.\u201d       *shall not yet know*\r\n\r\nSo he began a general conversation, assured her of not less\r\nfriendship and honour among the Greeks than she had enjoyed\r\nin Troy, and requested of her earnestly to treat him as a brother\r\nand accept his service \u2014 for, at last he said, \u201cI am and shall be\r\nay, while that my life may dure, your own, aboven ev\u2019ry\r\ncreature.\r\n\r\n\u201cThus said I never e\u2019er now to woman born;\r\nFor, God mine heart as wisly* gladden so!                        *surely\r\nI loved never woman herebeforn,\r\nAs paramours, nor ever shall no mo\u2019;\r\nAnd for the love of God be not my foe,\r\nAll* can I not to you, my lady dear,                           *although\r\nComplain aright, for I am yet to lear.*                           *teach\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd wonder not, mine owen lady bright,\r\nThough that I speak of love to you thus blive;*                    *soon\r\nFor I have heard ere this of many a wight\r\nThat loved thing he ne\u2019er saw in his live;\r\nEke I am not of power for to strive\r\nAgainst the god of Love, but him obey\r\nI will alway, and mercy I you pray.\u201d\r\n\r\nCressida answered his discourses as though she scarcely heard\r\nthem; yet she thanked him for his trouble and courtesy, and\r\naccepted his offered friendship \u2014 promising to trust him, as well\r\nshe might. Then she alighted from her steed, and, with her heart\r\nnigh breaking, was welcomed to the embrace of her father.\r\nMeanwhile Troilus, back in Troy, was lamenting with tears the\r\nloss of his love, despairing of his or her ability to survive the ten\r\ndays, and spending the night in wailing, sleepless tossing, and\r\ntroublous dreams. In the morning he was visited by Pandarus,\r\nto whom he gave directions for his funeral; desiring that the\r\npowder into which his heart was burned should be kept in a\r\ngolden urn, and given to Cressida. Pandarus renewed his old\r\ncounsels and consolations, reminded his friend that ten days\r\nwere a short time to wait, argued against his faith in evil\r\ndreams, and urged him to take advantage of the truce, and\r\nbeguile the time by a visit to King Sarpedon (a Lycian Prince\r\nwho had come to aid the Trojans). Sarpedon entertained them\r\nsplendidly; but no feasting, no pomp, no music of instruments,\r\nno singing of fair ladies, could make up for the absence of\r\nCressida to the desolate Troilus, who was for ever poring upon\r\nher old letters, and recalling her loved form. Thus he \u201cdrove to\r\nan end\u201d the fourth day, and would have then returned to Troy,\r\nbut for the remonstrances of Pandarus, who asked if they had\r\nvisited Sarpedon only to fetch fire? At last, at the end of a\r\nweek, they returned to Troy; Troilus hoping to find Cressida\r\nagain in the city, Pandarus entertaining a scepticism which he\r\nconcealed from his friend. The morning after their return,\r\nTroilus was impatient till he had gone to the palace of Cressida;\r\nbut when he found her doors all closed, \u201cwell nigh for sorrow\r\nadown he gan to fall.\u201d\r\n\r\nTherewith, when he was ware, and gan behold\r\nHow shut was ev\u2019ry window of the place,\r\nAs frost him thought his hearte *gan to cold;*      *began to grow cold*\r\nFor which, with changed deadly pale face,\r\nWithoute word, he forth began to pace;\r\nAnd, as God would, he gan so faste ride,\r\nThat no wight of his countenance espied.\r\n\r\nThen said he thus: \u201cO palace desolate!\r\nO house of houses, *whilom beste hight!*          *formerly called best*\r\nO palace empty and disconsolate!\r\nO thou lantern, of which quench\u2019d is the light!\r\nO palace, whilom day, that now art night!\r\nWell oughtest thou to fall, and I to die,\r\nSince she is gone that wont was us to guy!*                 *guide, rule\r\n\r\n\u201cO palace, whilom crown of houses all,\r\nIllumined with sun of alle bliss!\r\nO ring, from which the ruby is out fall!\r\nO cause of woe, that cause hast been of bliss!\r\nYet, since I may no bet, fain would I kiss\r\nThy colde doores, durst I for this rout;\r\nAnd farewell shrine, of which the saint is out!\u201d\r\n\r\n.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .\r\n\r\nFrom thence forth he rideth up and down,\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry thing came him to remembrance,\r\nAs he rode by the places of the town,\r\nIn which he whilom had all his pleasance;\r\n\u201cLo! yonder saw I mine own lady dance;\r\nAnd in that temple, with her eyen clear,\r\nMe caughte first my righte lady dear.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd yonder have I heard full lustily\r\nMy deare hearte laugh; and yonder play:\r\nSaw I her ones eke full blissfully;\r\nAnd yonder ones to me gan she say,\r\n\u2018Now, goode sweete! love me well, I pray;\u2019\r\nAnd yond so gladly gan she me behold,\r\nThat to the death my heart is to her hold.*               *holden, bound\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd at that corner, in the yonder house,\r\nHeard I mine allerlevest* lady dear,                     *dearest of all\r\nSo womanly, with voice melodious,\r\nSinge so well, so goodly and so clear,\r\nThat in my soule yet me thinks I hear\r\nThe blissful sound; and in that yonder place\r\nMy lady first me took unto her grace.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen he went to the gates, and gazed along the way by which\r\nhe had attended Cressida at her departure; then he fancied that\r\nall the passers-by pitied him; and thus he drove forth a day or\r\ntwo more, singing a song, of few words, which he had made to\r\nlighten his heart:\r\n\r\n\u201cO star, of which I lost have all the light,\r\nWith hearte sore well ought I to bewail,\r\nThat ever dark in torment, night by night,\r\nToward my death, with wind I steer and sail;\r\nFor which, the tenthe night, if that I fail*      *miss; be left without\r\nThe guiding of thy beames bright an hour,\r\nMy ship and me Charybdis will devour.\u201d\r\n\r\nBy night he prayed the moon to run fast about her sphere; by\r\nday he reproached the tardy sun \u2014 dreading that Phaethon had\r\ncome to life again, and was driving the chariot of Apollo out of\r\nits straight course. Meanwhile Cressida, among the Greeks, was\r\nbewailing the refusal of her father to let her return, the certainty\r\nthat her lover would think her false, and the hopelessness of any\r\nattempt to steal away by night. Her bright face waxed pale, her\r\nlimbs lean, as she stood all day looking toward Troy; thinking\r\non her love and all her past delights, regretting that she had not\r\nfollowed the counsel of Troilus to steal away with him, and\r\nfinally vowing that she would at all hazards return to the city.\r\nBut she was fated, ere two months, to be full far from any such\r\nintention; for Diomede now brought all his skill into play, to\r\nentice Cressida into his net. On the tenth day, Diomede, \u201cas\r\nfresh as branch in May,\u201d came to the tent of Cressida, feigning\r\nbusiness with Calchas.\r\n\r\nCresside, at shorte wordes for to tell,\r\nWelcomed him, and down by her him set,\r\nAnd he was *eath enough to make dwell;*       *easily persuaded to stay*\r\nAnd after this, withoute longe let,*                              *delay\r\nThe spices and the wine men forth him fet,*                     *fetched\r\nAnd forth they speak of this and that y-fere,*                 *together\r\nAs friendes do, of which some shall ye hear.\r\n\r\nHe gan first fallen of the war in speech\r\nBetween them and the folk of Troye town,\r\nAnd of the siege he gan eke her beseech\r\nTo tell him what was her opinioun;\r\nFrom that demand he so descended down\r\nTo aske her, if that her strange thought\r\nThe Greekes\u2019 guise,* and workes that they wrought.              *fashion\r\n\r\nAnd why her father tarried* so long                             *delayed\r\nTo wedde her unto some worthy wight.\r\nCressida, that was in her paines strong\r\nFor love of Troilus, her owen knight,\r\nSo farforth as she cunning* had or might,                       *ability\r\nAnswer\u2019d him then; but, as for his intent,*                     *purpose\r\nIt seemed not she wiste* what he meant.                            *knew\r\n\r\nBut natheless this ilke* Diomede                                   *same\r\nGan *in himself assure,* and thus he said;              *grow confident*\r\n\u201cIf I aright have *taken on you heed,*                    *observed you*\r\nMe thinketh thus, O lady mine Cresside,\r\nThat since I first hand on your bridle laid,\r\nWhen ye out came of Troye by the morrow,\r\nNe might I never see you but in sorrow.\r\n\r\n\u201cI cannot say what may the cause be,\r\nBut if for love of some Trojan it were;\r\n*The which right sore would a-thinke me*            *which it would much\r\nThat ye for any wight that dwelleth there              pain me to think*\r\nShould [ever] spill* a quarter of a tear,                          *shed\r\nOr piteously yourselfe so beguile;*                             *deceive\r\nFor dreadeless* it is not worth the while.                  *undoubtedly\r\n\r\n\u201cThe folk of Troy, as who saith, all and some\r\nIn prison be, as ye yourselfe see;\r\nFrom thence shall not one alive come\r\nFor all the gold betwixte sun and sea;\r\nTruste this well, and understande me;\r\nThere shall not one to mercy go alive,\r\nAll* were he lord of worldes twice five.                       *although\r\n\r\n.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat will ye more, lovesome lady dear?\r\nLet Troy and Trojan from your hearte pace;\r\nDrive out that bitter hope, and make good cheer,\r\nAnd call again the beauty of your face,\r\nThat ye with salte teares so deface;\r\nFor Troy is brought into such jeopardy,\r\nThat it to save is now no remedy.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd thinke well, ye shall in Greekes find\r\nA love more perfect, ere that it be night,\r\nThan any Trojan is, and more kind,\r\nAnd better you to serve will do his might;\r\nAnd, if ye vouchesafe, my lady bright,\r\nI will be he, to serve you, myselve, \u2014\r\nYea, lever* than be a lord of Greekes twelve!\u201d                   *rather\r\n\r\nAnd with that word he gan to waxe red,\r\nAnd in his speech a little while he quoke,*            *quaked; trembled\r\nAnd cast aside a little with his head,\r\nAnd stint a while; and afterward he woke,\r\nAnd soberly on her he threw his look,\r\nAnd said, \u201cI am, albeit to you no joy,\r\nAs gentle* man as any wight in Troy.                          *high-born\r\n\r\n\u201cBut, hearte mine! since that I am your man,*         *leigeman, subject\r\nAnd [you] be the first of whom I seeke grace,                  (in love)\r\nTo serve you as heartily as I can,\r\nAnd ever shall, while I to live have space,\r\nSo, ere that I depart out of this place,\r\nYe will me grante that I may, to-morrow,\r\nAt better leisure, telle you my sorrow.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhy should I tell his wordes that he said?\r\nHe spake enough for one day at the mest;*                          *most\r\nIt proveth well he spake so, that Cresseide\r\nGranted upon the morrow, at his request,\r\nFarther to speake with him, at the least,\r\nSo that he would not speak of such mattere;\r\nAnd thus she said to him, as ye may hear:\r\n\r\nAs she that had her heart on Troilus\r\nSo faste set, that none might it arace;*                    *uproot <83>\r\nAnd strangely* she spake, and saide thus;       *distantly, unfriendlily\r\n\u201cO Diomede! I love that ilke place\r\nWhere I was born; and Jovis, for his grace,\r\nDeliver it soon of all that doth it care!*                      *afflict\r\nGod, for thy might, so *leave it* well to fare!\u201d              *grant it*\r\n\r\nShe knows that the Greeks would fain wreak their wrath on\r\nTroy, if they might; but that shall never befall: she knows that\r\nthere are Greeks of high condition \u2014 though as worthy men\r\nwould be found in Troy: and she knows that Diomede could\r\nserve his lady well.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut, as to speak of love, y-wis,\u201d she said,\r\n\u201cI had a lord, to whom I wedded was, <84>\r\nHe whose mine heart was all, until he died;\r\nAnd other love, as help me now Pallas,\r\nThere in my heart nor is, nor ever was;\r\nAnd that ye be of noble and high kindred,\r\nI have well heard it tellen, out of dread.*                       *doubt\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd that doth* me to have so great a wonder                    *causeth\r\nThat ye will scornen any woman so;\r\nEke, God wot, love and I be far asunder;\r\nI am disposed bet, so may I go,*                        *fare or prosper\r\nUnto my death to plain and make woe;\r\nWhat I shall after do I cannot say,\r\nBut truely as yet *me list not play.*                 *I am not disposed\r\n                                                              *for sport\r\n\u201cMine heart is now in tribulatioun;\r\nAnd ye in armes busy be by day;\r\nHereafter, when ye wonnen have the town,\r\nParauntre* then, so as it happen may,                      *peradventure\r\nThat when I see that I never *ere sey,*                     *saw before*\r\nThen will I work that I never ere wrought;\r\nThis word to you enough sufficen ought.\r\n\r\n\u201cTo-morrow eke will I speak with you fain,*                   *willingly\r\nSo that ye touche naught of this mattere;\r\nAnd when you list, ye may come here again,\r\nAnd ere ye go, thus much I say you here:\r\nAs help me Pallas, with her haires clear,\r\nIf that I should of any Greek have ruth,\r\nIt shoulde be yourselfe, by my truth!\r\n\r\n\u201cI say not therefore that I will you love;\r\n*Nor say not nay;* but, in conclusioun,                  *nor say I that\r\nI meane well, by God that sits above!\u201d                       I will not*\r\nAnd therewithal she cast her eyen down,\r\nAnd gan to sigh, and said; \u201cO Troye town!\r\nYet bid* I God, in quiet and in rest                               *pray\r\nI may you see, or *do my hearte brest!\u201d*       *cause my heart to break*\r\n\r\nBut in effect, and shortly for to say,\r\nThis Diomede all freshly new again\r\nGan pressen on, and fast her mercy pray;\r\nAnd after this, the soothe for to sayn,\r\nHer glove he took, of which he was full fain,\r\nAnd finally, when it was waxen eve,\r\nAnd all was well, he rose and took his leave.\r\n\r\nCressida retired to rest:\r\n\r\nReturning in her soul ay up and down\r\nThe wordes of this sudden Diomede,<85>\r\nHis great estate,* the peril of the town,                          *rank\r\nAnd that she was alone, and hadde need\r\nOf friendes\u2019 help; and thus began to dread\r\nThe causes why, the soothe for to tell,\r\nThat she took fully the purpose for to dwell.*         *remain (with the\r\n                                                                 Greeks)\r\nThe morrow came, and, ghostly* for to speak,                    *plainly\r\nThis Diomede is come unto Cresseide;\r\nAnd shortly, lest that ye my tale break,\r\nSo well he for himselfe spake and said,\r\nThat all her sighes sore adown he laid;\r\nAnd finally, the soothe for to sayn,\r\nHe refte* her the great** of all her pain.      *took away **the greater\r\n                                                                 part of\r\nAnd after this, the story telleth us\r\nThat she him gave the faire baye steed\r\nThe which she ones won of Troilus;\r\nAnd eke a brooch (and that was little need)\r\nThat Troilus\u2019 was, she gave this Diomede;\r\nAnd eke, the bet from sorrow him to relieve,\r\nShe made him wear a pensel* of her sleeve.                 *pendant <86>\r\n\r\nI find eke in the story elleswhere,\r\nWhen through the body hurt was Diomede\r\nBy Troilus, she wept many a tear,\r\nWhen that she saw his wide woundes bleed,\r\nAnd that she took to keepe* him good heed,               *tend, care for\r\nAnd, for to heal him of his sorrow\u2019s smart,\r\nMen say, I n\u2019ot,* that she gave him her heart.                 *know not\r\n\r\nAnd yet, when pity had thus completed the triumph of\r\ninconstancy, she made bitter moan over her falseness to one of\r\nthe noblest and worthiest men that ever was; but it was now too\r\nlate to repent, and at all events she resolved that she would be\r\ntrue to Diomede \u2014 all the while weeping for pity of the absent\r\nTroilus, to whom she wished every happiness. The tenth day,\r\nmeantime, had barely dawned, when Troilus, accompanied by\r\nPandarus, took his stand on the walls, to watch for the return of\r\nCressida. Till noon they stood, thinking that every corner from\r\nafar was she; then Troilus said that doubtless her old father bore\r\nthe parting ill, and had detained her till after dinner; so they\r\nwent to dine, and returned to their vain observation on the\r\nwalls. Troilus invented all kinds of explanations for his\r\nmistress\u2019s delay; now, her father would not let her go till eve;\r\nnow, she would ride quietly into the town after nightfall, not to\r\nbe observed; now, he must have mistaken the day. For five or\r\nsix days he watched, still in vain, and with decreasing hope.\r\nGradually his strength decayed, until he could walk only with a\r\nstaff; answering the wondering inquiries of his friends, by saying\r\nthat he had a grievous malady about his heart. One day he\r\ndreamed that in a forest he saw Cressida in the embrace of a\r\nboar; and he had no longer doubt of her falsehood. Pandarus,\r\nhowever, explained away the dream to mean merely that\r\nCressida was detained by her father, who might be at the point\r\nof death; and he counselled the disconsolate lover to write a\r\nletter, by which he might perhaps get at the truth. Troilus\r\ncomplied, entreating from his mistress, at the least, a \u201cletter of\r\nhope;\u201d and the lady answered, that she could not come now, but\r\nwould so soon as she might; at the same time \u201cmaking him great\r\nfeast,\u201d and swearing that she loved him best \u2014 \u201cof which he\r\nfound but bottomless behest [which he found but groundless\r\npromises].\u201d Day by day increased the woe of Troilus; he laid\r\nhimself in bed, neither eating, nor drinking, nor sleeping, nor\r\nspeaking, almost distracted by the thought of Cressida\u2019s\r\nunkindness. He related his dream to his sister Cassandra, who\r\ntold him that the boar betokened Diomede, and that,\r\nwheresoever his lady was, Diornede certainly had her heart, and\r\nshe was his: \u201cweep if thou wilt, or leave, for, out of doubt, this\r\nDiomede is in, and thou art out.\u201d Troilus, enraged, refused to\r\nbelieve Cassandra\u2019s interpretation; as well, he cried, might such\r\na story be credited of Alcestis, who devoted her life for her\r\nhusband; and in his wrath he started from bed, \u201cas though all\r\nwhole had him y-made a leach [physician],\u201d resolving to find\r\nout the truth at all hazards. The death of Hector meanwhile\r\nenhanced the sorrow which he endured; but he found time to\r\nwrite often to Cressida, beseeching her to come again and hold\r\nher truth; till one day his false mistress, out of pity, wrote him\r\nagain, in these terms:\r\n\r\n\u201cCupide\u2019s son, ensample of goodlihead,*              *beauty, excellence\r\nO sword of knighthood, source of gentleness!\r\nHow might a wight in torment and in dread,\r\nAnd healeless,* you send as yet gladness?              *devoid of health\r\nI hearteless, I sick, I in distress?\r\nSince ye with me, nor I with you, may deal,\r\nYou neither send I may nor heart nor heal.\r\n\r\n\u201cYour letters full, the paper all y-plainted,*             *covered with\r\nCommoved have mine heart\u2019s pitt;                            complainings\r\nI have eke seen with teares all depainted\r\nYour letter, and how ye require me\r\nTo come again; the which yet may not be;\r\nBut why, lest that this letter founden were,\r\nNo mention I make now for fear.\r\n\r\n\u201cGrievous to me, God wot, is your unrest,\r\nYour haste,* and that the goddes\u2019 ordinance                  *impatience\r\nIt seemeth not ye take as for the best;\r\nNor other thing is in your remembrance,\r\nAs thinketh me, but only your pleasance;\r\nBut be not wroth, and that I you beseech,\r\nFor that I tarry is *all for wicked speech.*         *to avoid malicious\r\n                                                                 gossip*\r\n\u201cFor I have heard well more than I wend*                *weened, thought\r\nTouching us two, how thinges have stood,\r\nWhich I shall with dissimuling amend;\r\nAnd, be not wroth, I have eke understood\r\nHow ye ne do but holde me on hand; <87>\r\nBut now *no force,* I cannot in you guess                    *no matter*\r\nBut alle truth and alle gentleness.\r\n\r\n\u201cComen I will, but yet in such disjoint*             *jeopardy, critical\r\nI stande now, that what year or what day                        position\r\nThat this shall be, that can I not appoint;\r\nBut in effect I pray you, as I may,\r\nFor your good word and for your friendship ay;\r\nFor truely, while that my life may dure,\r\nAs for a friend, ye may *in me assure.*                   *depend on me*\r\n\r\n\u201cYet pray I you, *on evil ye not take*              *do not take it ill*\r\nThat it is short, which that I to you write;\r\nI dare not, where I am, well letters make;\r\nNor never yet ne could I well endite;\r\nEke *great effect men write in place lite;*      *men write great matter\r\nTh\u2019 intent is all, and not the letter\u2019s space;          in little space*\r\nAnd fare now well, God have you in his grace!\r\n                           \u201cLa Vostre C.\u201d\r\n\r\nThough he found this letter \u201call strange,\u201d and thought it like \u201ca\r\nkalendes of change,\u201d <88> Troilus could not believe his lady so\r\ncruel as to forsake him; but he was put out of all doubt, one day\r\nthat, as he stood in suspicion and melancholy, he saw a \u201ccoat-\r\narmour\u201d borne along the street, in token of victory, before\r\nDeiphobus his brother. Deiphobus had won it from Diomede in\r\nbattle that day; and Troilus, examining it out of curiosity, found\r\nwithin the collar a brooch which he had given to Cressida on the\r\nmorning she left Troy, and which she had pledged her faith to\r\nkeep for ever in remembrance of his sorrow and of him. At this\r\nfatal discovery of his lady\u2019s untruth,\r\n\r\nGreat was the sorrow and plaint of Troilus;\r\nBut forth her course Fortune ay gan to hold;\r\nCressida lov\u2019d the son of Tydeus,\r\nAnd Troilus must weep in cares cold.\r\nSuch is the world, whoso it can behold!\r\nIn each estate is little hearte\u2019s rest;\r\nGod lend* us each to take it for the best!                        *grant\r\n\r\nIn many a cruel battle Troilus wrought havoc among the\r\nGreeks, and often he exchanged blows and bitter words with\r\nDiomede, whom he always specially sought; but it was not their\r\nlot that either should fall by the other\u2019s hand. The poet\u2019s\r\npurpose, however, he tells us, is to relate, not the warlike deeds\r\nof Troilus, which Dares has fully told, but his love-fortunes:\r\n\r\nBeseeching ev\u2019ry lady bright of hue,\r\nAnd ev\u2019ry gentle woman, *what she be,*               *whatsoever she be*\r\nAlbeit that Cressida was untrue,\r\nThat for that guilt ye be not wroth with me;\r\nYe may her guilt in other bookes see;\r\nAnd gladder I would writen, if you lest,\r\nOf Penelope\u2019s truth, and good Alceste.\r\n\r\nNor say I not this only all for men,\r\nBut most for women that betrayed be\r\nThrough false folk (God give them sorrow, Amen!)\r\nThat with their greate wit and subtilty\r\nBetraye you; and this commoveth me\r\nTo speak; and in effect you all I pray,\r\nBeware of men, and hearken what I say.\r\n\r\nGo, little book, go, little tragedy!\r\nThere God my maker, yet ere that I die,\r\nSo send me might to make some comedy!\r\nBut, little book, *no making thou envy,*  *be envious of no poetry* <89>\r\nBut subject be unto all poesy;\r\nAnd kiss the steps, where as thou seest space,\r\nOf Virgil, Ovid, Homer, Lucan, Stace.\r\n\r\nAnd, for there is so great diversity\r\nIn English, and in writing of our tongue,\r\nSo pray I God, that none miswrite thee,\r\nNor thee mismetre for default of tongue!\r\nAnd read whereso thou be, or elles sung,\r\nThat thou be understanden, God I \u2019seech!*                       *beseech\r\nBut yet to purpose of my *rather speech.*         *earlier subject* <90>\r\n\r\nThe wrath, as I began you for to say,\r\nOf Troilus the Greekes boughte dear;\r\nFor thousandes his handes *made dey,*                      *made to die*\r\nAs he that was withouten any peer,\r\nSave in his time Hector, as I can hear;\r\nBut, well-away! save only Godde\u2019s will,\r\nDispiteously him slew the fierce Achill\u2019.\r\n\r\nAnd when that he was slain in this mannere,\r\nHis lighte ghost* full blissfully is went                        *spirit\r\nUp to the hollowness of the seventh sphere <91>\r\nIn converse leaving ev\u2019ry element;\r\nAnd there he saw, with full advisement,*     *observation, understanding\r\nTh\u2019 erratic starres heark\u2019ning harmony,\r\nWith soundes full of heav\u2019nly melody.\r\n\r\nAnd down from thennes fast he gan advise*             *consider, look on\r\nThis little spot of earth, that with the sea\r\nEmbraced is; and fully gan despise\r\nThis wretched world, and held all vanity,\r\n*To respect of the plein felicity*                   *in comparison with\r\nThat is in heav\u2019n above; and, at the last,            the full felicity*\r\nWhere he was slain his looking down he cast.\r\n\r\nAnd in himself he laugh\u2019d right at the woe\r\nOf them that wepte for his death so fast;\r\nAnd damned* all our works, that follow so                     *condemned\r\nThe blinde lust, the which that may not last,\r\nAnd shoulden* all our heart on heaven cast;             *while we should\r\nAnd forth he wente, shortly for to tell,\r\nWhere as Mercury sorted* him to dwell.                    *allotted <92>\r\n\r\nSuch fine* hath, lo! this Troilus for love!                         *end\r\nSuch fine hath all his *greate worthiness!*         *exalted royal rank*\r\nSuch fine hath his estate royal above!\r\nSuch fine his lust,* such fine hath his nobless!               *pleasure\r\nSuch fine hath false worlde\u2019s brittleness!*     *fickleness, instability\r\nAnd thus began his loving of Cresside,\r\nAs I have told; and in this wise he died.\r\n\r\nO young and freshe folke, *he or she,*                   *of either sex*\r\nIn which that love upgroweth with your age,\r\nRepaire home from worldly vanity,\r\nAnd *of your heart upcaste the visage*         *\u201clift up the countenance\r\nTo thilke God, that after his image                     of your heart.\u201d*\r\nYou made, and think that all is but a fair,\r\nThis world that passeth soon, as flowers fair!\r\n\r\nAnd love Him, the which that, right for love,\r\nUpon a cross, our soules for to bey,*                       *buy, redeem\r\nFirst starf,* and rose, and sits in heav\u2019n above;                  *died\r\nFor he will false* no wight, dare I say,                  *deceive, fail\r\nThat will his heart all wholly on him lay;\r\nAnd since he best to love is, and most meek,\r\nWhat needeth feigned loves for to seek?\r\n\r\nLo! here of paynims* cursed olde rites!                          *pagans\r\nLo! here what all their goddes may avail!\r\nLo! here this wretched worlde\u2019s appetites!               *end and reward\r\nLo! here the *fine and guerdon for travail,*                  of labour*\r\nOf Jove, Apollo, Mars, and such rascaille*                  *rabble <93>\r\nLo! here the form of olde clerkes\u2019 speech,\r\nIn poetry, if ye their bookes seech!*                      *seek, search\r\n\r\nL\u2019Envoy of Chaucer.\r\n\r\nO moral Gower! <94> this book I direct.\r\nTo thee, and to the philosophical Strode, <95>\r\nTo vouchesafe, where need is, to correct,\r\nOf your benignities and zeales good.\r\nAnd to that soothfast Christ that *starf on rood*    *died on the cross*\r\nWith all my heart, of mercy ever I pray,\r\nAnd to the Lord right thus I speak and say:\r\n\r\n\u201cThou One, and Two, and Three, *etern on live,*       *eternally living*\r\nThat reignest ay in Three, and Two, and One,\r\nUncircumscrib\u2019d, and all may\u2019st circumscrive,*               *comprehend\r\nFrom visible and invisible fone*                                   *foes\r\nDefend us in thy mercy ev\u2019ry one;\r\nSo make us, Jesus, *for thy mercy dign,*           *worthy of thy mercy*\r\nFor love of Maid and Mother thine benign!\u201d\r\n\r\nExplicit Liber Troili et Cresseidis. <96>\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Troilus and Cressida\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The double sorrow: First his suffering before his love was\r\nsuccessful; and then his grief after his lady had been separated\r\nfrom him, and had proved unfaithful.\r\n\r\n2. Tisiphone: one of the Eumenides, or Furies, who avenged on\r\nmen in the next world the crimes committed on earth. Chaucer\r\nmakes this grim invocation most fitly, since the Trojans were\r\nunder the curse of the Eumenides, for their part in the offence\r\nof Paris in carrying off Helen, the wife of his host Menelaus,\r\nand thus impiously sinning against the laws of hospitality.\r\n\r\n3. See Chaucer\u2019s description of himself in \u201cThe House Of\r\nFame,\u201d and note 11 to that poem.\r\n\r\n4. The Palladium, or image of Pallas (daughter of Triton and\r\nfoster-sister of Athena), was said to have fallen from heaven at\r\nTroy, where Ilus was just beginning to found the city; and Ilus\r\nerected a sanctuary, in which it was preserved with great\r\nhonour and care, since on its safety was supposed to depend the\r\nsafety of the city. In later times a Palladium was any statue of\r\nthe goddess Athena kept for the safeguard of the city that\r\npossessed it.\r\n\r\n5. \u201cOh, very god!\u201d: oh true divinity! \u2014 addressing Cressida.\r\n\r\n6. Ascaunce: as if to say \u2014 as much as to say. The word\r\nrepresents \u201cQuasi dicesse\u201d in Boccaccio. See note 5 to the\r\nSompnour\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n7. Eft: another reading is \u201coft.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Arten: constrain \u2014 Latin, \u201carceo.\u201d\r\n\r\n9. The song is a translation of Petrarch\u2019s 88th Sonnet, which\r\nopens thus:\r\n\u201cS\u2019amor non e, che dunque e quel ch\u2019i\u2019sento.\u201d\r\n\r\n10. If maugre me: If (I burn) in spite of myself. The usual\r\nreading is, \u201cIf harm agree me\u201d = if my hurt contents me: but\r\nevidently the antithesis is lost which Petrarch intended when,\r\nafter \u201cs\u2019a mia voglia ardo,\u201d he wrote \u201cs\u2019a mal mio grado\u201d = if\r\nagainst my will; and Urry\u2019s Glossary points out the probability\r\nthat in transcription the words \u201cIf that maugre me\u201d may have\r\ngradually changed into \u201cIf harm agre me.\u201d\r\n\r\n11. The Third of May seems either to have possessed peculiar\r\nfavour or significance with Chaucer personally, or to have had a\r\nspecial importance in connection with those May observances\r\nof which the poet so often speaks. It is on the third night of\r\nMay that Palamon, in The Knight\u2019s Tale, breaks out of prison,\r\nand at early morn encounters in the forest Arcita, who has gone\r\nforth to pluck a garland in honour of May; it is on the third\r\nnight of May that the poet hears the debate of \u201cThe Cuckoo and\r\nthe Nightingale\u201d; and again in the present passage the favoured\r\ndate recurs.\r\n\r\n12. Went: turning; from Anglo-Saxon, \u201cwendan;\u201d German,\r\n\u201cwenden.\u201d The turning and tossing of uneasy lovers in bed is,\r\nwith Chaucer, a favourite symptom of their passion. See the\r\nfifth \u201cstatute,\u201d in The Court of Love.\r\n\r\n13. Procne, daughter of Pandion, king of Attica, was given to\r\nwife to Tereus in reward for his aid against an enemy; but\r\nTereus dishonoured Philomela, Procne\u2019s sister; and his wife, in\r\nrevenge, served up to him the body of his own child by her.\r\nTereus, infuriated, pursued the two sisters, who prayed the\r\ngods to change them into birds. The prayer was granted;\r\nPhilomela became a nightingale, Procne a swallow, and Tereus\r\na hawk.\r\n\r\n14. Fished fair: a proverbial phrase which probably may be best\r\nrepresented by the phrase \u201cdone great execution.\u201d\r\n\r\n15. The fair gem virtueless:  possessing none of the virtues\r\nwhich in the Middle Ages were universally believed to be\r\ninherent in precious stones.\r\n\r\n16. The crop and root: the most perfect example. See note 29\r\nto the Knight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n17. Eme: uncle; the mother\u2019s brother; still used in Lancashire.\r\nAnglo-Saxon, \u201ceame;\u201d German, \u201cOheim.\u201d\r\n\r\n18. Dardanus: the mythical ancestor of the Trojans, after whom\r\nthe gate is supposed to be called.\r\n\r\n19. All the other gates were secured with chains, for better\r\ndefence against the besiegers.\r\n\r\n20. Happy day:  good fortune; French, \u201cbonheur;\u201d both \u201chappy\r\nday\u201d and \u201chappy hour\u201d are borrowed from the astrological\r\nfiction about the influence of the time of birth.\r\n\r\n21. Horn, and nerve, and rind: The various layers or materials\r\nof the shield \u2014 called boagrion in the Iliad \u2014 which was made\r\nfrom the hide of the wild bull.\r\n\r\n22. His brother:  Hector.\r\n\r\n23. Who gives me drink?: Who has given me a love-potion, to\r\ncharm my heart thus away?\r\n\r\n24. That plaited she full oft in many a fold: She deliberated\r\ncarefully, with many arguments this way and that.\r\n\r\n25. Through which I mighte stand in worse plight: in a worse\r\nposition in the city; since she might through his anger lose the\r\nprotection of his brother Hector.\r\n\r\n26. I am not religious: I am not in holy vows. See the complaint\r\nof the nuns in \u201cThe Court of Love.\u201d\r\n\r\n27. The line recalls Milton\u2019s \u201cdark with excessive bright.\u201d\r\n\r\n28. No weal is worth, that may no sorrow drien: the meaning is,\r\nthat whosoever cannot endure sorrow deserves not happiness.\r\n\r\n29. French, \u201cverre;\u201d glass.\r\n\r\n30. From cast of stones ware him in the werre: let him beware\r\nof casting stones in battle. The proverb in its modern form\r\nwarns those who live in glass houses of the folly of throwing\r\nstones.\r\n\r\n31. Westren:  to west or wester \u2014 to decline towards the west;\r\nso Milton speaks of the morning star as sloping towards\r\nheaven\u2019s descent \u201chis westering wheel.\u201d\r\n\r\n32. A pike with ass\u2019s feet etc.: this is merely another version of\r\nthe well-known example of incongruity that opens the \u201cArs\r\nPoetica\u201d of Horace.\r\n\r\n33. Tristre: tryst; a preconcerted spot to which the beaters\r\ndrove the game, and at which the sportsmen waited with their\r\nbows.\r\n\r\n34. A kankerdort: a condition or fit of perplexed anxiety;\r\nprobably connected with the word \u201ckink\u201d meaning in sea phrase\r\na twist in an rope \u2014 and, as a verb, to twist or entangle.\r\n\r\n35. They feel in times, with vapour etern: they feel in their\r\nseasons, by the emission of an eternal breath or inspiration (that\r\nGod loves, &c.)\r\n\r\n36. The idea of this stanza is the same with that developed in\r\nthe speech of Theseus at the close of The Knight\u2019s Tale; and it is\r\nprobably derived from the lines of Boethius, quoted in note 91\r\nto that Tale.\r\n\r\n37. In this and the following lines reappears the noble doctrine\r\nof the exalting and purifying influence of true love, advanced in\r\n\u201cThe Court of Love,\u201d \u201cThe Cuckoo and the Nightingale,\u201d &c.\r\n\r\n38. Weir: a trap or enclosed place in a stream, for catching fish.\r\nSee note 10 to The Assembly of Fowls.\r\n\r\n39. Nor might one word for shame to it say: nor could he\r\nanswer one word for shame (at the stratagem that brought\r\nCressida to implore his protection)\r\n\r\n40. \u201cAll n\u2019ere he malapert, nor made avow\r\nNor was so bold to sing a foole\u2019s mass;\u201d\r\ni.e. although he was not over-forward and made no confession\r\n(of his love), or was so bold as to be rash and ill-advised in his\r\ndeclarations of love and worship.\r\n\r\n41. Pandarus wept as if he would turn to water; so, in The\r\nSquire\u2019s Tale, did Canace weep for the woes of the falcon.\r\n\r\n42. If I breake your defence: if I transgress in whatever you may\r\nforbid; French, \u201cdefendre,\u201d to prohibit.\r\n\r\n43. These lines and the succeeding stanza are addressed to\r\nPandarus, who had interposed some words of incitement to\r\nCressida.\r\n\r\n44.  In \u201cThe Court of Love,\u201d the poet says of Avaunter, that\r\n\u201chis ancestry of kin was to Lier; and the stanza in which that\r\nline occurs  expresses precisely the same idea as in the text.\r\nVain boasters  of ladies\u2019 favours are also satirised in \u201cThe House\r\nof Fame\u201d.\r\n\r\n45. Nice:  silly, stupid; French, \u201cniais.\u201d\r\n\r\n46.\u201dReheating\u201d is read by preference for \u201crichesse,\u201d which\r\nstands in the older printed editions; though \u201crichesse\u201d certainly\r\nbetter represents the word used in the original of Boccaccio \u2014\r\n\u201cdovizia,\u201d meaning abundance or wealth.\r\n\r\n47. \u201cDepart it so, for widewhere is wist\r\nHow that there is diversity requer\u2019d\r\nBetwixte thinges like, as I have lear\u2019d:\u201d\r\ni.e. make this distinction, for it is universally known that there is\r\na great difference between things that seem the same, as I have\r\nlearned.\r\n\r\n48. Frepe: the set, or company; French, \u201cfrappe,\u201d a stamp (on\r\ncoins), a set (of moulds).\r\n\r\n49. To be \u201cin the wind\u201d of noisy magpies, or other birds that\r\nmight spoil sport by alarming the game, was not less desirable\r\nthan to be on the \u201clee-side\u201d of the game itself, that the hunter\u2019s\r\npresence might not be betrayed by the scent. \u201cIn the wind of,\u201d\r\nthus signifies not to windward of, but to leeward of \u2014 that is, in\r\nthe wind that comes from the object of pursuit.\r\n\r\n50. Bothe fremd and tame: both foes and friends \u2014 literally,\r\nboth wild and tame, the sporting metaphor being sustained.\r\n\r\n51. The lovers are supposed to say, that nothing is wanting but\r\nto know the time at which they should meet.\r\n\r\n52. A  tale of Wade: see note 5 to the Merchant\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n53. Saturn, and Jove, in Cancer joined were: a conjunction that\r\nimported rain.\r\n\r\n54. Smoky rain: An admirably graphic description of dense rain.\r\n\r\n55. For the force of \u201ccold,\u201d see note 22 to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n56. Goddes seven:  The divinities who gave their names to the\r\nseven planets, which, in association with the seven metals, are\r\nmentioned in The Canon\u2019s Yeoman\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n57. Assayed:  experienced, tasted. See note 6 to the Squire\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n58. Now is it better than both two were lorn: better this happy\r\nissue, than that both two should be lost (through the sorrow of\r\nfruitless love).\r\n\r\n59. Made him such feast: French, \u201clui fit fete\u201d \u2014 made holiday\r\nfor him.\r\n\r\n60. The cock is called, in \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls,\u201d \u201cthe\r\nhorologe of thorpes lite;\u201d [the clock of little villages] and in The\r\nNun\u2019s Priest\u2019s Tale Chanticleer knew by nature each ascension\r\nof the equinoctial, and, when the sun had ascended fifteen\r\ndegrees, \u201cthen crew he, that it might not be amended.\u201d Here he\r\nis termed the \u201ccommon astrologer,\u201d as employing for the public\r\nadvantage his knowledge of astronomy.\r\n\r\n61. Fortuna Major: the planet Jupiter.\r\n\r\n62. When Jupiter visited Alcmena in the form of her husband\r\nAmphitryon, he is said to have prolonged the night to the length\r\nof three natural nights. Hercules was the fruit of the union.\r\n\r\n63. Chaucer seems to confound Titan, the title of the sun, with\r\nTithonus (or Tithon, as contracted in poetry), whose couch\r\nAurora was wont to share.\r\n\r\n64. So, in \u201cLocksley Hall,\u201d Tennyson says that \u201ca sorrow\u2019s\r\ncrown of sorrow is rememb\u2019ring better things.\u201d The original is in\r\nDante\u2019s words:- -\r\n\u201cNessun maggior dolore\r\nChe ricordarsi del tempo felice\r\nNella miseria.\u201d \u2014 \u201cInferno,\u201d v. 121.\r\n(\u201cThere is no greater sorrow than to remember happy times\r\nwhen in misery\u201d)\r\n\r\n65. As great a craft is to keep weal as win: it needs as much\r\nskill to keep prosperity as to attain it.\r\n\r\n66. To heap: together. See the reference to Boethius in note 91\r\nto the Knight\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n67. The smalle beastes let he go beside: a charming touch,\r\nindicative of the noble and generous inspiration of his love.\r\n\r\n68. Mew: the cage or chamber in which hawks were kept and\r\ncarefully tended during the moulting season.\r\n\r\n69. Love of steel:  love as true as steel.\r\n\r\n70. Pandarus, as it repeatedly appears, was an unsucsessful\r\nlover.\r\n\r\n71. \u201cEach for his virtue holden is full dear,\r\nBoth heroner, and falcon for rivere\u201d:\u2014\r\nThat is, each is esteemed for a special virtue or faculty, as the\r\nlarge gerfalcon for the chase of heron, the smaller goshawk for\r\nthe chase of river fowl.\r\n\r\n72. Zausis: An author of whom no record survives.\r\n\r\n73. And upon new case lieth new advice:  new counsels must be\r\nadopted as new circumstances arise.\r\n\r\n74. Hid in mew: hidden in a place remote from the world \u2014 of\r\nwhich Pandarus thus betrays ignorance.\r\n\r\n75. The modern phrase \u201csixes and sevens,\u201d means \u201cin\r\nconfusion:\u201d but here the idea of gaming perhaps suits the sense\r\nbetter \u2014 \u201cset the world upon a cast of the dice.\u201d\r\n\r\n76. The controversy between those who maintained the doctrine\r\nof predestination and those who held that of free-will raged\r\nwith no less animation at Chaucer\u2019s day, and before it, than it\r\nhas done in the subsequent five centuries; the Dominicans\r\nupholding the sterner creed, the Franciscans taking the other\r\nside. Chaucer has more briefly, and with the same care not to\r\ncommit himself, referred to the discussion in The Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n77. That have their top full high and smooth y-shore: that are\r\neminent among the clergy, who wear the tonsure.\r\n\r\n78. Athamante: Athamas, son of Aeolus; who, seized with\r\nmadness, under the wrath of Juno for his neglect of his wife\r\nNephele, slew his son Learchus.\r\n\r\n79. Simois:  one of the rivers of the Troad, flowing into the\r\nXanthus.\r\n\r\n80. Troilus was the son of Priam and Hecuba.\r\n\r\n81. The son of Tydeus:  Diomedes; far oftener called Tydides,\r\nafter his father Tydeus, king of Argos.\r\n\r\n82. Couthe more than the creed:  knew more than the mere\r\nelements (of the science of Love).\r\n\r\n83. Arache: wrench away, unroot (French, \u201carracher\u201d); the\r\nopposite of \u201cenrace,\u201d to root in, implant.\r\n\r\n84. It will be remembered that, at the beginning of the first\r\nbook, Cressida is introduced to us as a widow.\r\n\r\n85. Diomede is called \u201csudden,\u201d for the unexpectedness of his\r\nassault on Cressida\u2019s heart \u2014 or, perhaps, for the abrupt\r\nabandonment of his indifference to love.\r\n\r\n86. Penscel:  a pennon or pendant; French, \u201cpenoncel.\u201d It  was\r\nthe custom in chivalric times for a knight to wear, on days of\r\ntournament or in battle, some such token of his lady\u2019s favour, or\r\nbadge of his service to her.\r\n\r\n87. She has been told that Troilus is deceiving her.\r\n\r\n88. The Roman kalends were the first day of the month, when a\r\nchange of weather was usually expected.\r\n\r\n89. Maker, and making, words used in the Middle Ages to\r\nsignify the composer and the composition of poetry, correspond\r\nexactly with the Greek \u201cpoietes\u201d and \u201cpoiema,\u201d from \u201cpoieo,\u201d I\r\nmake.\r\n\r\n90. My rather speech:  my earlier, former subject; \u201crather\u201d is the\r\ncormparative of the old adjective \u201crath,\u201d early.\r\n\r\n91. Up to the hollowness of the seventh sphere: passing up\r\nthrough the hollowness or concavity of the spheres, which all\r\nrevolve round each other and are all contained by God (see note\r\n5 to the Assembly of Fowls), the soul of Troilus, looking\r\ndownward, beholds the converse or convex side of the spheres\r\nwhich it has traversed.\r\n\r\n92. Sorted: allotted; from Latin, \u201csors,\u201d lot, fortune.\r\n\r\n93. Rascaille: rabble; French, \u201cracaille\u201d \u2014 a mob or multitude,\r\nthe riff-raff; so Spencer speaks of the \u201crascal routs\u201d of inferior\r\ncombatants.\r\n\r\n94. John Gower, the poet, a contemporary and friend of\r\nChaucer\u2019s; author, among other works, of the \u201cConfessio\r\nAmantis.\u201d See note 1 to the Man of Law\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n95. Strode was an eminent scholar of Merton College, Oxford,\r\nand tutor to Chaucer\u2019s son Lewis.\r\n\r\n96. Explicit Liber Troili et Cresseidis: \u201cThe end of the book of\r\nTroilus and Cressida.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAUCER\u2019S DREAM.\r\n\r\n\r\n[This pretty allegory, or rather conceit, containing one or two\r\npassages that for vividness and for delicacy yield to nothing in\r\nthe whole range of Chaucer\u2019s poetry, had never been printed\r\nbefore the year 1597, when it was included in the edition of\r\nSpeght. Before that date, indeed, a Dream of Chaucer had been\r\nprinted; but the poem so described was in reality \u201cThe Book of\r\nthe Duchess; or the Death of Blanche, Duchess of Lancaster\u201d \u2014\r\nwhich is not included in the present edition. Speght says that\r\n\u201cThis Dream, devised by Chaucer, seemeth to be a covert report\r\nof the marriage of John of Gaunt, the King\u2019s son, with Blanche,\r\nthe daughter of Henry, Duke of Lancaster; who after long love\r\n(during the time whereof the poet feigneth them to be dead)\r\nwere in the end, by consent of friends, happily married; figured\r\nby a bird bringing in his bill an herb, which restored them to life\r\nagain. Here also is showed Chaucer\u2019s match with a certain\r\ngentlewoman, who, although she was a stranger, was,\r\nnotwithstanding, so well liked and loved of the Lady Blanche\r\nand her Lord, as Chaucer himself also was, that gladly they\r\nconcluded a marriage between them.\u201d John of Gaunt, at the age\r\nof nineteen, and while yet Earl of Richmond, was married to the\r\nLady Blanche at Reading in May 1359; Chaucer, then a prisoner\r\nin France, probably did not return to England till peace was\r\nconcluded in the following year; so that his marriage to Philippa\r\nRoet, the sister of the Duchess Blanche\u2019s favourite attendant\r\nKatharine Roet, could not have taken place till some time after\r\nthat of the Duke. In the poem, it is represented to have\r\nimmediately followed; but no consequence need be attached to\r\nthat statement. Enough that it followed at no great interval of\r\ntime; and that the intimate relations which Chaucer had already\r\nbegun to form with John of Gaunt, might well warrant him in\r\nwriting this poem on the occasion of the Duke\u2019s marriage, and\r\nin weaving his own love-fortunes with those of the principal\r\nfigures. In the necessary abridgement of the poem for the\r\npresent edition, the subsidiary branch of the allegory, relating to\r\nthe poet\u2019s own love affair, has been so far as possible separated\r\nfrom the main branch, which shadows forth the fortunes of John\r\nand Blanche. The poem, in full, contains, with an \u201cEnvoy\u201d\r\narbitrarily appended, 2233 lines; of which 510 are given here.]\r\n(Transcriber\u2019s note: modern scholars believe that Chaucer was\r\nnot the author of this poem)\r\n\r\nWHEN Flora, the queen of pleasance,\r\nHad wholly *achiev\u2019d the obeisance*                  *won the obedience*\r\nOf the fresh and the new season,\r\nThorough ev\u2019ry region;\r\nAnd with her mantle *whole covert*                      *wholly covered*\r\nWhat winter had *made discovert,* \u2014                          *stripped*\r\n\r\nOn a May night, the poet lay alone, thinking of his lady, and all\r\nher beauty; and, falling asleep, he dreamed that he was in an\r\nisland\r\n\r\nWhere wall, and gate, was all of glass,\r\nAnd so was closed round about,\r\nThat leaveless* none came in nor out;                *without permission\r\nUncouth and strange to behold;\r\nFor ev\u2019ry gate, of fine gold,\r\nA thousand fanes,* ay turning,                      *vanes, weathercocks\r\nEntuned* had, and birds singing                 *contrived so as to emit\r\nDiversely, on each fane a pair,                          a musical sound\r\nWith open mouth, against the air; <1>\r\nAnd *of a suit* were all the tow\u2019rs,                  *of the same plan*\r\nSubtilly *carven aft* flow\u2019rs                      *carved to represent*\r\nOf uncouth colours, *during ay,*                       *lasting forever*\r\nThat never be none seen in May,\r\nWith many a small turret high;\r\nBut man alive I could not sigh,*                                    *see\r\nNor creatures, save ladies play,*                 *disporting themselves\r\nWhich were such of their array,\r\nThat, as me thought, *of goodlihead*                    *for comeliness*\r\nThey passed all, and womanhead.\r\nFor to behold them dance and sing,\r\nIt seemed like none earthly thing;\r\n\r\nAnd all were of the same age, save one; who was advanced in\r\nyears, though no less gay in demeanour than the rest. While he\r\nstood admiring the richness and beauty of the place, and the\r\nfairness of the ladies, which had the notable gift of enduring\r\nunimpaired till death, the poet was accosted by the old lady, to\r\nwhom he had to yield himself prisoner; because the ordinance of\r\nthe isle was, that no man should dwell there; and the ladies\u2019 fear\r\nof breaking the law was enhanced by the temporary absence of\r\ntheir queen from the realm. Just at this moment the cry was\r\nraised that the queen came; all the ladies hastened to meet her;\r\nand soon the poet saw her approach \u2014 but in her company his\r\nmistress, wearing the same garb, and a seemly knight. All the\r\nladies wondered greatly at this; and the queen explained:\r\n\r\n\u201cMy sisters, how it hath befall,*                              *befallen\r\nI trow ye know it one and all,\r\nThat of long time here have I been\r\nWithin this isle biding as queen,\r\nLiving at ease, that never wight\r\nMore perfect joye have not might;\r\nAnd to you been of governance\r\nSuch as you found in whole pleasance, <2>\r\nIn every thing as ye know,\r\nAfter our custom and our law;\r\nWhich how they firste founded were,\r\nI trow ye wot all the mannere.\r\nAnd who the queen is of this isle, \u2014\r\nAs I have been this longe while, \u2014\r\nEach seven years must, of usage,\r\nVisit the heav\u2019nly hermitage,\r\nWhich on a rock so highe stands,\r\nIn a strange sea, out from all lands,\r\nThat for to make the pilgrimage\r\nIs call\u2019d a perilous voyage;\r\nFor if the wind be not good friend,\r\nThe journey dureth to the end\r\nOf him which that it undertakes;\r\nOf twenty thousand not one scapes.\r\nUpon which rock groweth a tree,\r\nThat certain years bears apples three;\r\nWhich three apples whoso may have,\r\nIs *from all displeasance y-save*                   *safe from all pain*\r\nThat in the seven years may fall;\r\nThis wot you well, both one and all.\r\nFor the first apple and the hext,*                          *highest <3>\r\nWhich groweth unto you the next,\r\nHath three virtues notable,\r\nAnd keepeth youth ay durable,\r\nBeauty, and looks, ever-in-one,*                            *continually\r\nAnd is the best of ev\u2019ry one.\r\nThe second apple, red and green,\r\nOnly with lookes of your eyne,\r\nYou nourishes in great pleasance,\r\nBetter than partridge or fesaunce,*                            *pheasant\r\nAnd feedeth ev\u2019ry living wight\r\nPleasantly, only with the sight.\r\nAnd the third apple of the three,\r\nWhich groweth lowest on the tree,\r\nWhoso it beareth may not fail*                     *miss, fail to obtain\r\nThat* to his pleasance may avail.                            *that which\r\nSo your pleasure and beauty rich,\r\nYour during youth ever y-lich,*                                   *alike\r\nYour truth, your cunning,* and your weal,                     *knowledge\r\nHath flower\u2019d ay, and your good heal,\r\nWithout sickness or displeasance,\r\nOr thing that to you was noyance.*                      *offence, injury\r\nSo that you have as goddesses\r\nLived above all princesses.\r\nNow is befall\u2019n, as ye may see;\r\nTo gather these said apples three,\r\nI have not fail\u2019d, against the day,\r\nThitherward to take the way,\r\n*Weening to speed* as I had oft.                  *expecting to succeed*\r\nBut when I came, I found aloft\r\nMy sister, which that hero stands,\r\nHaving those apples in her hands,\r\nAdvising* them, and nothing said,                  *regarding, gazing on\r\nBut look\u2019d as she were *well apaid:*                         *satisfied*\r\nAnd as I stood her to behold,\r\nThinking how my joys were cold,\r\nSince I these apples *have not might,*                  *might not have*\r\nEven with that so came this knight,\r\nAnd in his arms, of me unware,\r\nMe took, and to his ship me bare,\r\nAnd said, though him I ne\u2019er had seen,\r\nYet had I long his lady been;\r\nWherefore I shoulde with him wend,\r\nAnd he would, to his life\u2019s end,\r\nMy servant be; and gan to sing,\r\nAs one that had won a rich thing.\r\nThen were my spirits from me gone,\r\nSo suddenly every one,\r\nThat in me appear\u2019d but death,\r\nFor I felt neither life nor breath,\r\nNor good nor harme none I knew,\r\nThe sudden pain me was so new,\r\nThat *had not the hasty grace be*               *had it not been for the\r\nOf this lady, that from the tree                        prompt kindness*\r\nOf her gentleness so bled,*                                    *hastened\r\nMe to comforten, I had died;\r\nAnd of her three apples she one\r\nInto mine hand there put anon,\r\nWhich brought again my mind and breath,\r\nAnd me recover\u2019d from the death.\r\nWherefore to her so am I hold,*                       *beholden, obliged\r\nThat for her all things do I wo\u2019ld,\r\nFor she was leach* of all my smart,                           *physician\r\nAnd from great pain so quit* my heart.                        *delivered\r\nAnd as God wot, right as ye hear,\r\nMe to comfort with friendly cheer,\r\nShe did her prowess and her might.\r\nAnd truly eke so did this knight,\r\nIn that he could; and often said,\r\nThat of my woe he was *ill paid,*              *distressed, ill-pleased*\r\nAnd curs\u2019d the ship that him there brought,\r\nThe mast, the master that it wrought.\r\nAnd, as each thing must have an end,\r\nMy sister here, our bother friend, <4>\r\nGan with her words so womanly\r\nThis knight entreat, and cunningly,\r\nFor mine honour and hers also,\r\nAnd said that with her we should go\r\nBoth in her ship, where she was brought,\r\nWhich was so wonderfully wrought,\r\nSo clean, so rich, and so array\u2019d,\r\nThat we were both content and paid;*                          *satisfied\r\nAnd me to comfort and to please,\r\nAnd my heart for to put at ease,\r\nShe took great pain in little while,\r\nAnd thus hath brought us to this isle\r\nAs ye may see; wherefore each one\r\nI pray you thank her one and one,\r\nAs heartily as ye can devise,\r\nOr imagine in any wise.\u201d\r\n\r\nAt once there then men mighte see\u2019n,\r\nA world of ladies fall on kneen\r\nBefore my lady, \u2014\r\n\r\nThanking her, and placing themselves at her commandment.\r\nThen the queen sent the aged lady to the knight, to learn of him\r\nwhy he had done her all this woe; and when the messenger had\r\ndischarged her mission, telling the knight that in the general\r\nopinion he had done amiss, he fell down suddenly as if dead for\r\nsorrow and repentance. Only with great difficulty, by the queen\r\nherself, was he restored to consciousness and comfort; but\r\nthough she spoke kind and hope-inspiring words, her heart was\r\nnot in her speech,\r\n\r\nFor her intent was, to his barge\r\nHim for to bring against the eve,\r\nWith certain ladies, and take leave,\r\nAnd pray him, of his gentleness,\r\nTo *suffer her* thenceforth in peace,                    *let her dwell*\r\nAs other princes had before;\r\nAnd from thenceforth, for evermore,\r\nShe would him worship in all wise\r\nThat gentlenesse might devise;\r\nAnd *pain her* wholly to fulfil,               *make her utmost efforts*\r\nIn honour, his pleasure and will.\r\n\r\nAnd during thus this knighte\u2019s woe, \u2014\r\nPresent* the queen and other mo\u2019,                *(there being) present*\r\nMy lady and many another wight, \u2014\r\nTen thousand shippes at a sight\r\nI saw come o\u2019er the wavy flood,\r\nWith sail and oar; that, as I stood\r\nThem to behold, I gan marvail\r\nFrom whom might come so many a sail;\r\nFor, since the time that I was born,\r\nSuch a navy therebeforn\r\nHad I not seen, nor so array\u2019d,\r\nThat for the sight my hearte play\u2019d\r\nAy to and fro within my breast;\r\nFor joy long was ere it would rest.\r\nFor there were sailes *full of flow\u2019rs;*      *embroidered with flowers*\r\nAfter, castles with huge tow\u2019rs, <5>\r\nSeeming full of armes bright,\r\nThat wond\u2019rous lusty* was the sight;                           *pleasant\r\nWith large tops, and mastes long,\r\nRichly depaint\u2019 and *rear\u2019d among.*                  *raised among them*\r\nAt certain times gan repair\r\nSmalle birdes down from the air,\r\nAnd on the shippes\u2019 bounds* about                              *bulwarks\r\nSat and sang, with voice full out,\r\nBallads and lays right joyously,\r\nAs they could in their harmony.\r\n\r\nThe ladies were alarmed and sorrow-stricken at sight of the\r\nships, thinking that the knight\u2019s companions were on board; and\r\nthey went towards the walls of the isle, to shut the gates. But it\r\nwas Cupid who came; and he had already landed, and marched\r\nstraight to the place where the knight lay. Then he chid the\r\nqueen for her unkindness to his servant; shot an arrow into her\r\nheart; and passed through the crowd, until he found the poet\u2019s\r\nlady, whom he saluted and complimented, urging her to have\r\npity on him that loved her. While the poet, standing apart, was\r\nrevolving all this in his mind, and resolving truly to serve his\r\nlady, he saw the queen advance to Cupid, with a petition in\r\nwhich she besought forgiveness of past offences, and promised\r\ncontinual and zealous service till her death. Cupid smiled, and\r\nsaid that he would be king within that island, his new conquest;\r\nthen, after long conference with the queen, he called a council\r\nfor the morrow, of all who chose to wear his colours. In the\r\nmorning, such was the press of ladies, that scarcely could\r\nstanding-room be found in all the plain. Cupid presided; and one\r\nof his counsellors addressed the mighty crowd, promising that\r\nere his departure his lord should bring to an agreement all the\r\nparties there present. Then Cupid gave to the knight and the\r\ndreamer each his lady; promised his favour to all the others in\r\nthat place who would truly and busily serve in love; and at\r\nevening took his departure. Next morning, having declined the\r\nproffered sovereignty of the island, the poet\u2019s mistress also\r\nembarked, leaving him behind; but he dashed through the\r\nwaves, was drawn on board her ship from peril of death, and\r\ngraciously received into his lady\u2019s lasting favour. Here the poet\r\nawakes, finding his cheeks and body all wet with tears; and,\r\nremoving into another chamber, to rest more in peace, he falls\r\nasleep anew, and continues the dream. Again he is within the\r\nisland, where the knight and all the ladies are assembled on a\r\ngreen, and it is resolved by the assembly, not only that the\r\nknight shall be their king, but that every lady there shall be\r\nwedded also. It is determined that the knight shall depart that\r\nvery day, and return, within ten days, with such a host of\r\nBenedicts, that none in the isle need lack husbands. The knight\r\n\r\nAnon into a little barge\r\nBrought was, late against an eve,\r\nWhere of all he took his leave.\r\nWhich barge was, as a man thought,\r\nAft* his pleasure to him brought;                         *according to*\r\nThe queen herself accustom\u2019d ay\r\nIn the same barge to play.*                              *take her sport\r\nIt needed neither mast nor rother*                               *rudder\r\n(I have not heard of such another),\r\nNor master for the governance;*                                *steering\r\nIt sailed by thought and pleasance,\r\nWithoute labour, east and west;\r\nAll was one, calm or tempest. <6>\r\nAnd I went with, at his request,\r\nAnd was the first pray\u2019d to the feast.*                *the bridal feast\r\nWhen he came unto his country,\r\nAnd passed had the wavy sea,\r\nIn a haven deep and large\r\nHe left his rich and noble barge,\r\nAnd to the court, shortly to tell,\r\nHe went, where he was wont to dwell, \u2014\r\n\r\nAnd was gladly received as king by the estates of the land; for\r\nduring his absence his father, \u201cold, and wise, and hoar,\u201d had\r\ndied, commending to their fidelity his absent son. The prince\r\nrelated to the estates his journey, and his success in finding the\r\nprincess in quest of whom he had gone seven years before; and\r\nsaid that he must have sixty thousand guests at his marriage\r\nfeast. The lords gladly guaranteed the number within the set\r\ntime; but afterwards they found that fifteen days must be spent\r\nin the necessary preparations. Between shame and sorrow, the\r\nprince, thus compelled to break his faith, took to his bed, and,\r\nin wailing and self-reproach,\r\n\r\n\u2014 Endur\u2019d the days fifteen,\r\nTill that the lords, on an evene,*                              *evening\r\nHim came and told they ready were,\r\nAnd showed in few wordes there,\r\nHow and what wise they had *purvey\u2019d                  *provided suitably\r\nFor his estate,* and to him said,                           to his rank*\r\nThat twenty thousand knights of name,\r\nAnd forty thousand without blame,\r\nAlle come of noble ligne*                                 *line, lineage\r\nTogether in a company\r\nWere lodged on a river\u2019s side,\r\nHim and his pleasure there t\u2019abide.\r\nThe prince then for joy uprose,\r\nAnd, where they lodged were, he goes,\r\nWithoute more, that same night,\r\nAnd there his supper *made to dight;*                     *had prepared*\r\nAnd with them bode* till it was day.                     *abode, waited*\r\nAnd forthwith to take his journey,\r\nLeaving the strait, holding the large,\r\nTill he came to his noble barge:\r\nAnd when the prince, this lusty knight,\r\nWith his people in armes bright,\r\nWas come where he thought to pass,*                   *cross to the isle\r\nAnd knew well none abiding was\r\nBehind, but all were there present,\r\nForthwith anon all his intent\r\nHe told them there, and made his cries*                    *proclamation\r\nThorough his hoste that day twice,\r\nCommanding ev\u2019ry living wight\r\nThere being present in his sight,\r\nTo be the morrow on the rivage,*                                  *shore\r\nThere he begin would his voyage.\r\n\r\nThe morrow come, the *cry was kept*            *proclamation was obeyed*\r\nBut few were there that night that slept,\r\nBut *truss\u2019d and purvey\u2019d* for the morrow;      *packed up and provided*\r\nFor fault* of ships was all their sorrow;                *lack, shortage\r\nFor, save the barge, and other two,\r\nOf shippes there I saw no mo\u2019.\r\nThus in their doubtes as they stood,\r\nWaxing the sea, coming the flood,\r\nWas cried \u201cTo ship go ev\u2019ry wight!\u201d\r\nThen was but *hie that hie him might,*       *whoever could hasten, did*\r\nAnd to the barge, me thought, each one\r\nThey went, without was left not one,\r\nHorse, nor male*, truss, nor baggage,                     *trunk, wallet\r\nSalad*, spear, gardebrace,** nor page,        *helmet<7> **arm-shield<8>\r\nBut was lodged and room enough;\r\nAt which shipping me thought I lough,*                          *laughed\r\nAnd gan to marvel in my thought,\r\nHow ever such a ship was wrought.*                          *constructed\r\nFor *what people that can increase,*     *however the numbers increased*\r\nNor ne\u2019er so thick might be the prease,*                   *press, crowd\r\nBut alle hadde room at will;\r\nThere was not one was lodged ill.\r\nFor, as I trow, myself the last\r\nWas one, and lodged by the mast;\r\nAnd where I look\u2019d I saw such room\r\nAs all were lodged in a town.\r\nForth went the ship, said was the creed;<9>\r\nAnd on their knees, *for their good speed,*        *to pray for success*\r\nDown kneeled ev\u2019ry wight a while,\r\nAnd prayed fast that to the isle\r\nThey mighte come in safety,\r\nThe prince and all the company.\r\nWith worship and withoute blame,\r\nOr disclander* of his name,                           *reproach, slander\r\nOf the promise he should return\r\nWithin the time he did sojourn\r\nIn his lande biding* his host;                              *waiting for\r\nThis was their prayer least and most:\r\nTo keep the day it might not be\u2019n,\r\nThat he appointed with the queen.\r\n\r\nWherefore the prince slept neither day nor night, till he and his\r\npeople landed on the glass-walled isle, \u201cweening to be in heav\u2019n\r\nthat night.\u201d But ere they had gone a little way, they met a lady\r\nall in black, with piteous countenance, who reproached the\r\nprince for his untruth, and informed him that, unable to bear the\r\nreproach to their name, caused by the lightness of their trust in\r\nstrangers, the queen and all the ladies of the isle had vowed\r\nneither to eat, nor drink, nor sleep, nor speak, nor cease\r\nweeping till all were dead. The queen had died the first; and half\r\nof the other ladies had already \u201cunder the earth ta\u2019en lodging\r\nnew.\u201d The woeful recorder of all these woes invites the prince\r\nto behold the queen\u2019s hearse:\r\n\r\n\u201cCome within, come see her hearse\r\nWhere ye shall see the piteous sight\r\nThat ever yet was shown to knight;\r\nFor ye shall see ladies stand,\r\nEach with a greate rod in hand,\r\nClad in black, with visage white,\r\nReady each other for to smite,\r\nIf any be that will not weep;\r\nOr who makes countenance to sleep.\r\nThey be so beat, that all so blue\r\nThey be as cloth that dy\u2019d is new.\u201d\r\n\r\nScarcely has the lady ceased to speak, when the prince plucks\r\nforth a dagger, plunges it into his heart, and, drawing but one\r\nbreath, expires.\r\n\r\nFor whiche cause the lusty host,\r\nWhich [stood] in battle on the coast,\r\nAt once for sorrow such a cry\r\nGan rear, thorough* the company,                             *throughout\r\nThat to the heav\u2019n heard was the soun\u2019,\r\nAnd under th\u2019earth as far adown,\r\nAnd wilde beastes for the fear\r\nSo suddenly affrayed* were,                                      *afraid\r\nThat for the doubt, while they might dure,*     *have a chance of safety\r\nThey ran as of their lives unsure,\r\nFrom the woodes into the plain,\r\nAnd from valleys the high mountain\r\nThey sought, and ran as beastes blind,\r\nThat clean forgotten had their kind.*                            *nature\r\n\r\nThe lords of the laggard host ask the woebegone lady what\r\nshould be done; she answers that nothing can now avail, but\r\nthat for remembrance they should build in their land, open to\r\npublic view, \u201cin some notable old city,\u201d a chapel engraved with\r\nsome memorial of the queen. And straightway, with a sigh, she\r\nalso \u201cpass\u2019d her breath.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen said the lordes of the host,\r\nAnd so concluded least and most,\r\nThat they would ay in houses of thack*                           *thatch\r\nTheir lives lead, <10> and wear but black,\r\nAnd forsake all their pleasances,\r\nAnd turn all joy to penances;\r\nAnd bare the dead prince to the barge,\r\nAnd named *them should* have the charge;              *those who should*\r\nAnd to the hearse where lay the queen\r\nThe remnant went, and down on kneen,\r\nHolding their hands on high, gan cry,\r\n\u201cMercy! mercy!\u201d *evereach thry;*                       *each one thrice*\r\nAnd curs\u2019d the time that ever sloth\r\nShould have such masterdom of troth.\r\nAnd to the barge, a longe mile,\r\nThey bare her forth; and, in a while,\r\nAll the ladies, one and one,\r\nBy companies were brought each one.\r\nAnd pass\u2019d the sea, and took the land,\r\nAnd in new hearses, on a sand,\r\nPut and brought were all anon,\r\nUnto a city clos\u2019d with stone,\r\nWhere it had been used ay\r\nThe kinges of the land to lay,\r\nAfter they reigned in honours;\r\nAnd writ was which were conquerours;\r\nIn an abbey of nunnes black,\r\nWhich accustom\u2019d were to wake,\r\nAnd of usage rise each a-night,\r\nTo pray for ev\u2019ry living wight.\r\nAnd so befell, as is the guise,\r\nOrdain\u2019d and said was the service\r\nOf the prince and eke of the queen,\r\nSo devoutly as mighte be\u2019n;\r\nAnd, after that, about the hearses,\r\nMany orisons and verses,\r\nWithoute note* <11> full softely                                  *music\r\nSaid were, and that full heartily;\r\nThat all the night, till it was day,\r\nThe people in the church gan pray\r\nUnto the Holy Trinity,\r\nOf those soules to have pity.\r\n\r\nAnd when the nighte past and run\r\nWas, and the newe day begun, \u2014\r\nThe young morrow with rayes red,\r\nWhich from the sun all o\u2019er gan spread,\r\nAttemper\u2019d* cleare was and fair,                          *clement, calm\r\nAnd made a time of wholesome air, \u2014\r\nBefell a wondrous case* and strange                       *chance, event\r\nAmong the people, and gan change\r\nSoon the word, and ev\u2019ry woe\r\nUnto a joy, and some to two.\r\n\r\nA bird, all feather\u2019d blue and green,\r\nWith brighte rays like gold between,\r\nAs small thread over ev\u2019ry joint,\r\nAll full of colour strange and coint,*                           *quaint\r\nUncouth* and wonderful to sight,                             *unfamiliar\r\nUpon the queene\u2019s hearse gan light,\r\nAnd sung full low and softely\r\nThree songes in their harmony,\r\n*Unletted of* every wight;                               *unhindered by*\r\nTill at the last an aged knight,\r\nWhich seem\u2019d a man in greate thought,\r\nLike as he set all thing at nought,\r\nWith visage and eyes all forwept,*                     *steeped in tears\r\nAnd pale, as a man long unslept,\r\nBy the hearses as he stood,\r\nWith hasty handling of his hood\r\nUnto a prince that by him past,\r\nMade the bird somewhat aghast.*                              *frightened\r\nWherefore he rose and left his song,\r\nAnd departed from us among,\r\nAnd spread his winges for to pass\r\nBy the place where he enter\u2019d was.\r\nAnd in his haste, shortly to tell,\r\nHim hurt, that backward down he fell,\r\nFrom a window richly paint,\r\nWith lives of many a divers saint,\r\nAnd beat his winges and bled fast,\r\nAnd of the hurt thus died and past;\r\nAnd lay there well an hour and more\r\nTill, at the last, of birds a score\r\nCame and assembled at the place\r\nWhere the window broken was,\r\nAnd made such waimentatioun,*                               *lamentation\r\nThat pity was to hear the soun\u2019,\r\nAnd the warbles of their throats,\r\nAnd the complaint of their notes,\r\nWhich from joy clean was reversed.\r\nAnd of them one the glass soon pierced,\r\nAnd in his beak, of colours nine,\r\nAn herb he brought, flow\u2019rless, all green,\r\nFull of smalle leaves, and plain,*                               *smooth\r\nSwart,* and long, with many a vein.                               *black\r\nAnd where his fellow lay thus dead,\r\nThis herb he down laid by his head,\r\nAnd dressed* it full softely,                                  *arranged\r\nAnd hung his head, and stood thereby.\r\nWhich herb, in less than half an hour,\r\nGan over all knit,* and after flow\u2019r                                *bud\r\nFull out; and waxed ripe the seed;\r\nAnd, right as one another feed\r\nWould, in his beak he took the grain,\r\nAnd in his fellow\u2019s beak certain\r\nIt put, and thus within the third*             *i.e. third hour after it\r\nUpstood and pruned him the bird,                                had died\r\nWhich dead had been in all our sight;\r\nAnd both together forth their flight\r\nTook, singing, from us, and their leave;\r\nWas none disturb them would nor grieve.\r\nAnd, when they parted were and gone,\r\nTh\u2019 abbess the seedes soon each one\r\nGathered had, and in her hand\r\nThe herb she took, well avisand*                       *considering <12>\r\nThe leaf, the seed, the stalk, the flow\u2019r,\r\nAnd said it had a good savour,\r\nAnd was no common herb to find,\r\nAnd well approv\u2019d of *uncouth kind,*                    *strange nature*\r\nAnd more than other virtuous;\r\nWhoso might it have for to use\r\nIn his need, flower, leaf, or grain,\r\nOf his heal might be certain.\r\n[She] laid it down upon the hearse\r\nWhere lay the queen; and gan rehearse\r\nEach one to other what they had seen.\r\nAnd, *taling thus,* the seed wax\u2019d green,             *as they gossiped*\r\nAnd on the dry hearse gan to spring, \u2014\r\nWhich me thought was a wondrous thing, \u2014\r\nAnd, after that, flow\u2019r and new seed;\r\nOf which the people all took heed,\r\nAnd said it was some great miracle,\r\nOr medicine fine more than treacle;  <12>\r\nAnd were well done there to assay\r\nIf it might ease, in any way,\r\nThe corpses, which with torchelight\r\nThey waked had there all that night.\r\nSoon did the lordes there consent,\r\nAnd all the people thereto content,\r\nWith easy words and little fare;*                          *ado, trouble\r\nAnd made the queene\u2019s visage bare,\r\nWhich showed was to all about,\r\nWherefore in swoon fell all the rout,*                   *company, crowd\r\nAnd were so sorry, most and least,\r\nThat long of weeping they not ceas\u2019d;\r\nFor of their lord the remembrance\r\nUnto them was such displeasance.*                        *cause of grief\r\nThat for to live they called pain,\r\nSo were they very true and plain.\r\nAnd after this the good abbess\r\nOf the grains gan choose and dress*                             *prepare\r\nThree, with her fingers clean and smale,*                         *small\r\nAnd in the queenes mouth, by tale,\r\nOne after other, full easily\r\nShe put, and eke full cunningly.*                             *skilfully\r\nWhich showed some such virtue.\r\nThat proved was the medicine true.\r\nFor with a smiling countenance\r\nThe queen uprose, and of usance*                                 *custom\r\nAs she was wont, to ev\u2019ry wight\r\nShe *made good cheer;* for whiche sight               *showed a gracious\r\nThe people, kneeling on the stones,                         countenance*\r\nThought they in heav\u2019n were, soul and bones;\r\nAnd to the prince, where that he lay,\r\nThey went to make the same assay.*                    *trial, experiment\r\nAnd when the queen it understood,\r\nAnd how the medicine was good,\r\nShe pray\u2019d that she might have the grains,\r\nTo relieve him from the pains\r\nWhich she and he had both endur\u2019d.\r\nAnd to him went, and so him cur\u2019d,\r\nThat, within a little space,\r\nLusty and fresh alive he was,\r\nAnd in good heal, and whole of speech,\r\nAnd laugh\u2019d, and said, *\u201cGramercy, leach!\u201d*              *\u201cGreat thanks,\r\nFor which the joy throughout the town                    my physician!\u201d*\r\nSo great was, that the belles\u2019 soun\u2019\r\nAffray\u2019d the people a journey*                       *to the distance of\r\nAbout the city ev\u2019ry way;                               a day\u2019s journey*\r\nAnd came and ask\u2019d the cause, and why\r\nThey rungen were so stately.*                         *proudly, solemnly\r\nAnd after that the queen, th\u2019abbess,\r\nMade diligence, <14> ere they would cease,\r\nSuch, that of ladies soon a rout*                        *company, crowd\r\nSuing* the queen was all about;                               *following\r\nAnd, call\u2019d by name each one and told,*                        *numbered\r\nWas none forgotten, young nor old.\r\nThere mighte men see joyes new,\r\nWhen the medicine, fine and true,\r\nThus restor\u2019d had ev\u2019ry wight,\r\nSo well the queen as the knight,\r\nUnto perfect joy and heal,\r\nThat *floating they were in such weal*                 *swimming in such\r\nAs folk that woulden in no wise                               happiness*\r\nDesire more perfect paradise.\r\n\r\nOn the morrow a general assembly was convoked, and it was\r\nresolved that the wedding feast should be celebrated within the\r\nisland. Messengers were sent to strange realms, to invite kings,\r\nqueens, duchesses, and princesses; and a special embassy was\r\ndespatched, in the magic barge, to seek the poet\u2019s mistress \u2014\r\nwho was brought back after fourteen days, to the great joy of\r\nthe queen. Next day took place the wedding of the prince and\r\nall the knights to the queen and all the ladies; and a three\r\nmonths\u2019 feast followed, on a large plain \u201cunder a wood, in a\r\nchampaign, betwixt a river and a well, where never had abbey\r\nnor cell been, nor church, house, nor village, in time of any\r\nmanne\u2019s age.\u201d On the day after the general wedding, all\r\nentreated the poet\u2019s lady to consent to crown his love with\r\nmarriage; she yielded; the bridal was splendidly celebrated; and\r\nto the sound of marvellous music the poet awoke, to find\r\nneither lady nor creature \u2014 but only old portraitures on the\r\ntapestry, of horsemen, hawks, and hounds, and hurt deer full of\r\nwounds. Great was his grief that he had lost all the bliss of his\r\ndream; and he concludes by praying his lady so to accept his\r\nlove-service, that the dream may turn to reality.\r\n\r\nOr elles, without more I pray,\r\nThat this night, ere it be day,\r\nI may unto my dream return,\r\nAnd sleeping so forth ay sojourn\r\nAboute the Isle of Pleasance,\r\n*Under my lady\u2019s obeisance,*                        *subject to my lady*\r\nIn her service, and in such wise,\r\nAs it may please her to devise;\r\nAnd grace once to be accept\u2019,\r\nLike as I dreamed when I slept,\r\nAnd dure a thousand year and ten\r\nIn her good will: Amen, amen!\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Chaucer\u2019s Dream\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The birds on the weathervanes were set up facing the wind,\r\nso that it entered their open mouths, and by some mechanism\r\nproduced the musical sound.\r\n\r\n2. \u201cAnd to you been of governance\r\nSuch as you found in whole pleasance\u201d\r\nThat is, \u201cand have governed you in a manner which you have\r\nfound wholly pleasant.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. Hext: highest; from \u201chigh,\u201d as \u201cnext\u201d from \u201cnigh.\u201d Compare\r\nthe sounds of the German, \u201choechst,\u201d highest, and \u201cnaechst,\u201d\r\nnext.\r\n\r\n4. \u201cYour brother friend,\u201d is the common reading; but the phrase\r\nhas no apparent applicability; and perhaps the better reading is\r\n\u201cour bother friend\u201d \u2014 that is, the lady who has proved herself a\r\nfriend both to me and to you. In the same way, Reason, in\r\nTroilus\u2019 soliloquy on the impending loss of his mistress, is made,\r\naddressing Troilus and Cressida, to speaks of \u201cyour bother,\u201d or\r\n\u201cbothe,\u201d love.\r\n\r\n5. The ships had  high embattled poops and forecastles, as in\r\nmediaeval ships of war.\r\n\r\n6. Compare Spenser\u2019s account of Phaedria\u2019s barque, in \u201cThe\r\nFaerie Queen,\u201d canto vi. book ii.; and, mutatis mutandis,\r\nChaucer\u2019s description of the wondrous horse, in The Squire\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n7. Salad: a small helmet; french, \u201csalade.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. Gardebrace: French, \u201cgarde-bras,\u201d an arm-shield; probably\r\nresembling the \u201cgay bracer\u201d which the Yeoman, in the Prologue\r\nto The Canterbury Tales, wears on his arm.\r\n\r\n9. Confession and prayer were the usual preliminaries of any\r\nenterprise in those superstitious days; and in these days of\r\nenlightenment the fashion yet lingers among the most\r\nsuperstitious class \u2014 the fisher-folk.\r\n\r\n10. The knights resolved that they would quit their castles and\r\nhouses of stone for humble huts.\r\n\r\n11. The knight and lady were buried without music, although\r\nthe office for the dead was generally sung.\r\n\r\n12. Avisand: considering; present participle from \u201cavise\u201d or\r\n\u201cadvise.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. Treacle; corrupted from Latin, \u201ctherisca,\u201d an antidote. The\r\nword is used for medicine in general.\r\n\r\n14. The abbess made diligence: i.e. to administer the grain to\r\nthe dead ladies.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE PROLOGUE TO THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN.\r\n\r\n\r\n[SOME difference of opinion exists as to the date at\r\nwhich Chaucer wrote \u201cThe Legend of Good\r\nWomen.\u201d Those who would fix that date at a\r\nperiod not long before the poet\u2019s death \u2014 who\r\nwould place the poem, indeed, among his closing\r\nlabours \u2014 support their opinion by the fact that the\r\nPrologue recites most of Chaucer\u2019s principal\r\nworks, and glances, besides, at a long array of\r\nother productions, too many to be fully catalogued.\r\nBut, on the other hand, it is objected that the\r\n\u201cLegend\u201d makes no mention of \u201cThe Canterbury\r\nTales\u201d as such; while two of those Tales \u2014 the\r\nKnight\u2019s and the Second Nun\u2019s \u2014 are enumerated\r\nby the titles which they bore as separate\r\ncompositions, before they were incorporated in the\r\ngreat collection: \u201cThe Love of Palamon and\r\nArcite,\u201d and \u201cThe Life of Saint Cecile\u201d (see note 1\r\nto the Second Nun\u2019s tale). Tyrwhitt seems perfectly\r\njustified in placing the composition of the poem\r\nimmediately before that of Chaucer\u2019s magnum\r\nopus, and after the marriage of Richard II to his\r\nfirst queen, Anne of Bohemia. That event took\r\nplace in 1382; and since it is to Anne that the poet\r\nrefers when he makes Alcestis bid him give his\r\npoem to the queen \u201cat Eltham or at Sheen,\u201d the\r\n\u201cLegend\u201d could not have been written earlier. The\r\nold editions tell us that \u201cseveral ladies in the Court\r\ntook offence at Chaucer\u2019s large speeches against\r\nthe untruth of women; therefore the queen enjoin\u2019d\r\nhim to compile this book in the commendation of\r\nsundry maidens and wives, who show\u2019d themselves\r\nfaithful to faithless men. This seems to have been\r\nwritten after The Flower and the Leaf.\u201d Evidently it\r\nwas, for distinct references to that poem are to be\r\nfound in the Prologue; but more interesting is the\r\nindication which it furnishes, that \u201cTroilus and\r\nCressida\u201d was the work, not of the poet\u2019s youth,\r\nbut of his maturer age. We could hardly expect the\r\nqueen \u2014 whether of Love or of England \u2014 to\r\ndemand seriously from Chaucer a retractation of\r\nsentiments which he had expressed a full\r\ngeneration before, and for which he had made\r\natonement by the splendid praises of true love sung\r\nin \u201cThe Court of Love,\u201d \u201cThe Cuckoo and the\r\nNightingale,\u201d and other poems of youth and middle\r\nlife. But \u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d is coupled with\r\n\u201cThe Romance of the Rose,\u201d as one of the poems\r\nwhich had given offence to the servants and the\r\nGod of Love; therefore we may suppose it to have\r\nmore prominently engaged courtly notice at a later\r\nperiod of the poet\u2019s life, than even its undoubted\r\npopularity could explain. At whatever date, or in\r\nwhatever circumstances, undertaken, \u201cThe Legend\r\nof Good Women\u201d is a fragment. There are several\r\nsigns that it was designed to contain the stories of\r\ntwenty-five ladies, although the number of the\r\ngood women is in the poem itself set down at\r\nnineteen; but nine legends only were actually\r\ncomposed, or have come down to us. They are,\r\nthose of Cleopatra Queen of Egypt (126 lines),\r\nThisbe of Babylon (218), Dido Queen of Carthage\r\n(442), Hypsipyle and Medea (312), Lucrece of\r\nRome (206), Ariadne of Athens (340), Phiomela\r\n(167), Phyllis (168), and Hypermnestra (162).\r\nPrefixed to these stories, which are translated or\r\nimitated from Ovid, is a Prologue containing 579\r\nlines \u2014 the only part of the \u201cLegend\u201d given in the\r\npresent edition. It is by far the most original, the\r\nstrongest, and most pleasing part of the poem; the\r\ndescription of spring, and of his enjoyment of that\r\nseason, are in Chaucer\u2019s best manner; and the\r\npolitical philosophy by which Alcestis mitigates the\r\nwrath of Cupid, adds another to the abounding\r\nproofs that, for his knowledge of the world,\r\nChaucer fairly merits the epithet of \u201cmany-sided\u201d\r\nwhich Shakespeare has won by his knowledge of\r\nman.]\r\n\r\nA THOUSAND times I have hearde tell,\r\nThat there is joy in heav\u2019n, and pain in hell;\r\nAnd I accord* it well that it is so;                       *grant, agree\r\nBut, natheless, yet wot* I well also,                              *know\r\nThat there is none dwelling in this country\r\nThat either hath in heav\u2019n or hell y-be;*                          *been\r\nNor may of it no other wayes witten*                               *know\r\nBut as he hath heard said, or found it written;\r\nFor by assay* there may no man it preve.**              *practical trial\r\n                                                           **prove, test\r\nBut God forbid but that men should believe\r\nWell more thing than men have seen with eye!\r\nMen shall not weenen ev\u2019ry thing a lie\r\n*But if* himself it seeth, or else do\u2019th;                        *unless\r\nFor, God wot, thing is never the less sooth,*                      *true\r\nThough ev\u2019ry wighte may it not y-see.\r\nBernard, the Monke, saw not all, pardie! <1>\r\nThen muste we to bookes that we find\r\n(Through which that olde thinges be in mind),\r\nAnd to the doctrine of these olde wise,\r\nGive credence, in ev\u2019ry skilful* wise,                       *reasonable\r\nThat tellen of these old approved stories,\r\nOf holiness, of regnes,* of victories,                 *reigns, kingdoms\r\nOf love, of hate, and other sundry things\r\nOf which I may not make rehearsings;\r\nAnd if that olde bookes were away,\r\nY-lorn were of all remembrance the key.\r\nWell ought we, then, to honour and believe\r\nThese bookes, where we have none other preve.*                    *proof\r\n\r\nAnd as for me, though that I know but lite,*                     *little\r\nOn bookes for to read I me delight,\r\nAnd to them give I faith and good credence,\r\nAnd in my heart have them in reverence,\r\nSo heartily, that there is *game none* <2>                *no amusement*\r\nThat from my bookes maketh me to go\u2019n,\r\nBut it be seldom on the holyday;\r\nSave, certainly, when that the month of May\r\nIs comen, and I hear the fowles sing,\r\nAnd that the flowers ginnen for to spring,\r\nFarewell my book and my devotion!\r\n\r\nNow have I then such a condition,\r\nThat, above all the flowers in the mead,\r\nThen love I most these flowers white and red,\r\nSuch that men calle Day\u2019s-eyes in our town;\r\nTo them have I so great affectioun,\r\nAs I said erst, when comen is the May,\r\nThat in my bed there dawneth me no day\r\nThat I n\u2019am* up, and walking in the mead,                        *am not\r\nTo see this flow\u2019r against the sunne spread,\r\nWhen it upriseth early by the morrow;\r\nThat blissful sight softeneth all my sorrow,\r\nSo glad am I, when that I have presence\r\nOf it, to do it alle reverence,\r\nAs she that is of alle flowers flow\u2019r,\r\nFulfilled of all virtue and honour,\r\nAnd ever alike fair, and fresh of hue;\r\nAs well in winter, as in summer new,\r\nThis love I ever, and shall until I die;\r\nAll* swear I not, of this I will not lie,                      *although\r\nThere loved no wight hotter in his life.\r\nAnd when that it is eve, I runne blife,*               *quickly, eagerly\r\nAs soon as ever the sun begins to west,*               *decline westward\r\nTo see this flow\u2019r, how it will go to rest,\r\nFor fear of night, so hateth she darkness!\r\nHer cheer* is plainly spread in the brightness              *countenance\r\nOf the sunne, for there it will unclose.\r\nAlas! that I had English, rhyme or prose,\r\nSufficient this flow\u2019r to praise aright!\r\nBut help me, ye that have *cunning or might;*           *skill or power*\r\nYe lovers, that can make of sentiment,\r\nIn this case ought ye to be diligent\r\nTo further me somewhat in my labour,\r\nWhether ye be with the Leaf or the Flow\u2019r; <3>\r\nFor well I wot, that ye have herebefore\r\nOf making ropen,* and led away the corn; <4>                     *reaped\r\nAnd I come after, gleaning here and there,\r\nAnd am full glad if I may find an ear\r\nOf any goodly word that you have left.\r\nAnd though it hap me to rehearsen eft*                            *again\r\nWhat ye have in your freshe songes said,\r\nForbeare me, and be not *evil apaid,*                       *displeased*\r\nSince that ye see I do it in th\u2019honour\r\nOf love, and eke in service of the flow\u2019r\r\nWhom that I serve as I have wit or might. <5>\r\nShe is the clearness, and the very* light,                         *true\r\nThat in this darke world me winds* and leads;             *turns, guides\r\nThe heart within my sorrowful breast you dreads,\r\nAnd loves so sore, that ye be, verily,\r\nThe mistress of my wit, and nothing I.\r\nMy word, my works, are knit so in your bond,\r\nThat, as a harp obeyeth to the hand,\r\nThat makes it sound after his fingering,\r\nRight so may ye out of my hearte bring\r\nSuch voice, right as you list, to laugh or plain;*      *complain, mourn\r\nBe ye my guide, and lady sovereign.\r\nAs to mine earthly god, to you I call,\r\nBoth in this work, and in my sorrows all.\r\n\r\nBut wherefore that I spake to give credence\r\nTo old stories, and do them reverence,\r\nAnd that men muste more things believe\r\nThan they may see at eye, or elles preve,*                        *prove\r\nThat shall I say, when that I see my time;\r\nI may not all at ones speak in rhyme.\r\nMy busy ghost,* that thirsteth always new                        *spirit\r\nTo see this flow\u2019r so young, so fresh of hue,\r\nConstrained me with so greedy desire,\r\nThat in my heart I feele yet the fire,\r\nThat made me to rise ere it were day, \u2014\r\nAnd this was now the first morrow of May, \u2014\r\nWith dreadful heart, and glad devotion,\r\nFor to be at the resurrection\r\nOf this flower, when that it should unclose\r\nAgainst the sun, that rose as red as rose,\r\nThat in the breast was of the beast* that day      *the sign of the Bull\r\nThat Agenore\u2019s daughter led away. <6>\r\nAnd down on knees anon right I me set,\r\nAnd as I could this freshe flow\u2019r I gret,*                      *greeted\r\nKneeling alway, till it unclosed was,\r\nUpon the smalle, softe, sweete grass,\r\nThat was with flowers sweet embroider\u2019d all,\r\nOf such sweetness and such odour *o\u2019er all,*                *everywhere*\r\nThat, for to speak of gum, or herb, or tree,\r\nComparison may none y-maked be;\r\nFor it surmounteth plainly all odours,\r\nAnd for rich beauty the most gay of flow\u2019rs.\r\nForgotten had the earth his poor estate\r\nOf winter, that him naked made and mate,*            *dejected, lifeless\r\nAnd with his sword of cold so sore grieved;\r\nNow hath th\u2019attemper* sun all that releaved**     *temperate **furnished\r\nThat naked was, and clad it new again.                  anew with leaves\r\nThe smalle fowles, of the season fain,*                            *glad\r\nThat of the panter* and the net be scap\u2019d,                     *draw-net\r\nUpon the fowler, that them made awhap\u2019d*          *terrified, confounded\r\nIn winter, and destroyed had their brood,\r\nIn his despite them thought it did them good\r\nTo sing of him, and in their song despise\r\nThe foule churl, that, for his covetise,*                         *greed\r\nHad them betrayed with his sophistry*                        *deceptions\r\nThis was their song: \u201cThe fowler we defy,\r\nAnd all his craft:\u201d and some sunge clear\r\nLayes of love, that joy it was to hear,\r\nIn worshipping* and praising of their make;**          *honouring **mate\r\nAnd for the blissful newe summer\u2019s sake,\r\nUpon the branches full of blossoms soft,\r\nIn their delight they turned them full oft,\r\nAnd sunge, \u201cBlessed be Saint Valentine! <7>\r\nFor on his day I chose you to be mine,\r\nWithoute repenting, my hearte sweet.\u201d\r\nAnd therewithal their heals began to meet,\r\nYielding honour, and humble obeisances,\r\nTo love, and did their other observances\r\nThat longen unto Love and to Nature;\r\nConstrue that as you list, I *do no cure.*                *care nothing*\r\nAnd those that hadde *done unkindeness,*              *committed offence\r\nAs doth the tidife, <8> for newfangleness,         against natural laws*\r\nBesoughte mercy for their trespassing\r\nAnd humblely sange their repenting,\r\nAnd swore upon the blossoms to be true;\r\nSo that their mates would upon them rue,*                     *take pity\r\nAnd at the laste made their accord.*                     *reconciliation\r\nAll* found they Danger** for a time a lord,          *although **disdain\r\nYet Pity, through her stronge gentle might,\r\nForgave, and made mercy pass aright\r\nThrough Innocence, and ruled Courtesy.\r\nBut I ne call not innocence folly\r\nNor false pity, for virtue is the mean,\r\nAs Ethic <9> saith, in such manner I mean.\r\nAnd thus these fowles, void of all malice,\r\nAccorded unto Love, and lefte vice\r\nOf hate, and sangen all of one accord,\r\n\u201cWelcome, Summer, our governor and lord!\u201d\r\nAnd Zephyrus and Flora gentilly\r\nGave to the flowers, soft and tenderly,\r\nTheir sweete breath, and made them for to spread,\r\nAs god and goddess of the flow\u2019ry mead;\r\nIn which me thought I mighte, day by day,\r\nDwellen alway, the jolly month of May,\r\nWithoute sleep, withoute meat or drink.\r\nAdown full softly I began to sink,\r\nAnd, leaning on mine elbow and my side\r\nThe longe day I shope* to abide,                     *resolved, prepared\r\nFor nothing elles, and I shall not lie\r\nBut for to look upon the daisy;\r\nThat men by reason well it calle may\r\nThe Daye\u2019s-eye, or else the Eye of Day,\r\nThe empress and the flow\u2019r of flowers all\r\nI pray to God that faire may she fall!\r\nAnd all that love flowers, for her sake:\r\nBut, nathelesse, *ween not that I make*             *do not fancy that I\r\nIn praising of the Flow\u2019r against the Leaf,             write this poem*\r\nNo more than of the corn against the sheaf;\r\nFor as to me is lever none nor lother,\r\nI n\u2019am withholden yet with neither n\u2019other.<10>\r\n*Nor I n\u2019ot* who serves Leaf, nor who the Flow\u2019r;        *nor do I know*\r\nWell *brooke they* their service or labour!         *may they profit by*\r\nFor this thing is all of another tun, <11>\r\nOf old story, ere such thing was begun.\r\n\r\nWhen that the sun out of the south gan west,\r\nAnd that this flow\u2019r gan close, and go to rest,\r\nFor darkness of the night, the which she dread;*                *dreaded\r\nHome to my house full swiftly I me sped,\r\nTo go to rest, and early for to rise,\r\nTo see this flower spread, as I devise.*                       *describe\r\nAnd in a little arbour that I have,\r\nThat benched was of turfes fresh y-grave,* <12>                 *cut out\r\nI bade men shoulde me my couche make;\r\nFor dainty* of the newe summer\u2019s sake,                         *pleasure\r\nI bade them strowe flowers on my bed.\r\nWhen I was laid, and had mine eyen hid,\r\nI fell asleep; within an hour or two,\r\nMe mette* how I lay in the meadow tho,**                 *dreamed **then\r\nTo see this flow\u2019r that I love so and dread.\r\nAnd from afar came walking in the mead\r\nThe God of Love, and in his hand a queen;\r\nAnd she was clad in royal habit green;\r\nA fret* of gold she hadde next her hair,                           *band\r\nAnd upon that a white corown she bare,\r\nWith flowrons* small, and, as I shall not lie,             *florets <13>\r\nFor all the world right as a daisy\r\nY-crowned is, with white leaves lite,*                            *small\r\nSo were the flowrons of her crowne white.\r\nFor of one pearle, fine, oriential,\r\nHer white crowne was y-maked all,\r\nFor which the white crown above the green\r\nMade her like a daisy for to see\u2019n,*                          *look upon\r\nConsider\u2019d eke her fret of gold above.\r\nY-clothed was this mighty God of Love\r\nIn silk embroider\u2019d, full of greene greves,*                     *boughs\r\nIn which there was a fret of red rose leaves,\r\nThe freshest since the world was first begun.\r\nHis gilt hair was y-crowned with a sun,\r\nlnstead of gold, for* heaviness and weight;                    *to avoid\r\nTherewith me thought his face shone so bright,\r\nThat well unnethes might I him behold;\r\nAnd in his hand me thought I saw him hold\r\nTwo fiery dartes, as the gledes* red;                     *glowing coals\r\nAnd angel-like his winges saw I spread.\r\nAnd *all be* that men say that blind is he,                   *although*\r\nAlgate* me thoughte that he might well see;               *at all events\r\nFor sternly upon me he gan behold,\r\nSo that his looking *did my hearte cold.*                 *made my heart\r\nAnd by the hand he held this noble queen,                     grow cold*\r\nCrowned with white, and clothed all in green,\r\nSo womanly, so benign, and so meek,\r\nThat in this worlde, though that men would seek.\r\nHalf of her beauty shoulde they not find\r\nIn creature that formed is by Kind;*                             *Nature\r\nAnd therefore may I say, as thinketh me,\r\nThis song in praising of this lady free:\r\n\r\n\u201cHide, Absolon, thy gilte* tresses clear;                        *golden\r\nEsther, lay thou thy meekness all adown;\r\nHide, Jonathan, all thy friendly mannere,\r\nPenelope, and Marcia Catoun,<14>\r\nMake of your wifehood no comparisoun;\r\nHide ye your beauties, Isoude <15> and Helene;\r\nMy lady comes, that all this may distain.*               *outdo, obscure\r\n\r\n\u201cThy faire body let it not appear,\r\nLavine; <16> and thou, Lucrece of Rome town;\r\nAnd Polyxene, <17> that boughte love so dear,\r\nAnd Cleopatra, with all thy passioun,\r\nHide ye your truth of love, and your renown;\r\nAnd thou, Thisbe, that hadst of love such pain\r\nMy lady comes, that all this may distain.\r\n\r\n\u201cHero, Dido, Laodamia, y-fere,*                                *together\r\nAnd Phyllis, hanging for Demophoon,\r\nAnd Canace, espied by thy cheer,\r\nHypsipyle, betrayed by Jasoun,\r\nMake of your truthe neither boast nor soun\u2019;\r\nNor Hypermnestr\u2019 nor Ariadne, ye twain;\r\nMy lady comes, that all this may distain.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis ballad may full well y-sungen be,\r\nAs I have said erst, by my lady free;\r\nFor, certainly, all these may not suffice\r\n*T\u2019appaire with* my lady in no wise;                  *surpass in beauty\r\nFor, as the sunne will the fire distain,                      or honour*\r\nSo passeth all my lady sovereign,\r\nThat is so good, so fair, so debonair,\r\nI pray to God that ever fall her fair!\r\nFor *n\u2019hadde comfort been* of her presence,               *had I not the\r\nI had been dead, without any defence,                        comfort of*\r\nFor dread of Love\u2019s wordes, and his cheer;\r\nAs, when time is, hereafter ye shall hear.\r\nBehind this God of Love, upon the green,\r\nI saw coming of Ladies nineteen,\r\nIn royal habit, a full easy pace;\r\nAnd after them of women such a trace,*                            *train\r\nThat, since that God Adam had made of earth,\r\nThe thirde part of mankind, or the ferth,*                       *fourth\r\n*Ne ween\u2019d I not* by possibility,                      *I never fancied*\r\nHad ever in this wide world y-be;*                                 *been\r\nAnd true of love these women were each one.\r\nNow whether was that a wonder thing, or non,*                       *not\r\nThat, right anon as that they gan espy\r\nThis flow\u2019r, which that I call the daisy,\r\nFull suddenly they stenten* all at once,                        *stopped\r\nAnd kneeled down, as it were for the nonce,\r\nAnd sange with one voice, \u201cHeal and honour\r\nTo truth of womanhead, and to this flow\u2019r,\r\n*That bears our aller prize in figuring;*      *that in its figure bears\r\nHer white crowne bears the witnessing!\u201d           the prize from us all*\r\nAnd with that word, *a-compass enviroun*          *all around in a ring*\r\nThey sette them full softely adown.\r\nFirst sat the God of Love, and since* his queen,             *afterwards\r\nWith the white corowne, clad in green;\r\nAnd sithen* all the remnant by and by,                             *then\r\nAs they were of estate, full courteously;\r\nAnd not a word was spoken in the place,\r\nThe mountance* of a furlong way of space.                   *extent <18>\r\n\r\nI, kneeling by this flow\u2019r, in good intent\r\nAbode, to knowe what this people meant,\r\nAs still as any stone, till, at the last,\r\nThe God of Love on me his eyen cast,\r\nAnd said, \u201cWho kneeleth there? \u201cand I answer\u2019d\r\nUnto his asking, when that I it heard,\r\nAnd said, \u201cIt am I,\u201d and came to him near,\r\nAnd salued* him. Quoth he, \u201cWhat dost thou here,                *saluted\r\nSo nigh mine owen flow\u2019r, so boldely?\r\nIt were better worthy, truely,\r\nA worm to nighe* near my flow\u2019r than thou.\u201d         *approach, draw nigh\r\n\u201cAnd why, Sir,\u201d quoth I, \u201can\u2019 it liketh you?\u201d\r\n\u201cFor thou,\u201d quoth he, \u201cart thereto nothing able,\r\nIt is my relic,* dign** and delectable,            *emblem <19> **worthy\r\nAnd thou my foe, and all my folk warrayest,*       *molestest, censurest\r\nAnd of mine olde servants thou missayest,\r\nAnd hind\u2019rest them, with thy translation,\r\nAnd lettest* folk from their devotion                        *preventest\r\nTo serve me, and holdest it folly\r\nTo serve Love; thou may\u2019st it not deny;\r\nFor in plain text, withoute need of glose,*              *comment, gloss\r\nThu hast translated the Romance of the Rose,\r\nThat is a heresy against my law,\r\nAnd maketh wise folk from me withdraw;\r\nAnd of Cresside thou hast said as thee list,\r\nThat maketh men to women less to trust,\r\nThat be as true as e\u2019er was any steel.\r\nOf thine answer *advise thee right weel;*          *consider right well*\r\nFor though that thou *renied hast my lay,*               *abjured my law\r\nAs other wretches have done many a day,                     or religion*\r\nBy Sainte Venus, that my mother is,\r\nIf that thou live, thou shalt repente this,\r\nSo cruelly, that it shall well be seen.\u201d\r\n\r\nThen spake this Lady, clothed all in green,\r\nAnd saide, \u201cGod, right of your courtesy,\r\nYe mighte hearken if he can reply\r\nAgainst all this, that ye have *to him meved;*    *advanced against him*\r\nA godde shoulde not be thus aggrieved,\r\nBut of his deity he shall be stable,\r\nAnd thereto gracious and merciable.*                           *merciful\r\nAnd if ye n\u2019ere* a god, that knoweth all,                      *were not\r\nThen might it be, as I you telle shall,\r\nThis man to you may falsely be accused,\r\nWhereas by right him ought to be excused;\r\nFor in your court is many a losengeour,*                  *deceiver <20>\r\nAnd many a *quaint toteler accusour,*     *strange prating accuser <21>*\r\nThat tabour* in your eares many a soun\u2019,                           *drum\r\nRight after their imaginatioun,\r\nTo have your dalliance,* and for envy;           *pleasant conversation,\r\nThese be the causes, and I shall not lie,                        company\r\nEnvy is lavender* of the Court alway,                         *laundress\r\nFor she departeth neither night nor day <22>\r\nOut of the house of Caesar, thus saith Dant\u2019;\r\nWhoso that go\u2019th, algate* she shall not want.             *at all events\r\nAnd eke, parauntre,* for this man is nice,**     *peradventure **foolish\r\nHe mighte do it guessing* no malice;                           *thinking\r\nFor he useth thinges for to make;*                       *compose poetry\r\nHim *recketh naught of * what mattere he take;       *cares nothing for*\r\nOr he was bidden *make thilke tway*                  *compose those two*\r\nOf* some person, and durst it not withsay;*           *by **refuse, deny\r\nOr him repenteth utterly of this.\r\nHe hath not done so grievously amiss,\r\nTo translate what olde clerkes write,\r\nAs though that he of malice would endite,*                   *write down\r\n*Despite of* Love, and had himself it wrought.            *contempt for*\r\nThis should a righteous lord have in his thought,\r\nAnd not be like tyrants of Lombardy,\r\nThat have no regard but at tyranny.\r\nFor he that king or lord is naturel,\r\nHim oughte not be tyrant or cruel, <23>\r\nAs is a farmer, <24> to do the harm he can;\r\nHe muste think, it is his liegeman,\r\nAnd is his treasure, and his gold in coffer;\r\nThis is the sentence* of the philosopher:            *opinion, sentiment\r\nA king to keep his lieges in justice,\r\nWithoute doubte that is his office.\r\nAll* will he keep his lords in their degree, \u2014                *although\r\nAs it is right and skilful* that they be,                    *reasonable\r\nEnhanced and honoured, and most dear,\r\nFor they be halfe* in this world here, \u2014                      *demigods\r\nYet must he do both right to poor and rich,\r\nAll be that their estate be not y-lich;*                          *alike\r\nAnd have of poore folk compassion.\r\nFor lo! the gentle kind of the lion;\r\nFor when a fly offendeth him, or biteth,\r\nHe with his tail away the flye smiteth,\r\nAll easily; for of his gentery*                               *nobleness\r\nHim deigneth not to wreak him on a fly,\r\nAs doth a cur, or else another beast.\r\n*In noble corage ought to be arrest,*           *in a noble nature ought\r\nAnd weighen ev\u2019rything by equity,                  to be self-restraint*\r\nAnd ever have regard to his degree.\r\nFor, Sir, it is no mastery for a lord\r\nTo damn* a man, without answer of word;                         *condemn\r\nAnd for a lord, that is *full foul to use.*     *most infamous practice*\r\nAnd it be so he* may him not excuse,                       *the offender\r\nBut asketh mercy with a dreadful* heart,                 *fearing, timid\r\nAnd proffereth him, right in his bare shirt,\r\nTo be right at your owen judgement,\r\nThen ought a god, by short advisement,*                    *deliberation\r\nConsider his own honour, and his trespass;\r\nFor since no pow\u2019r of death lies in this case,\r\nYou ought to be the lighter merciable;\r\nLette* your ire, and be somewhat tractable!                    *restrain\r\nThis man hath served you of his cunning,*                *ability, skill\r\nAnd further\u2019d well your law in his making.*            *composing poetry\r\nAlbeit that he cannot well endite,\r\nYet hath he made lewed* folk delight                           *ignorant\r\nTo serve you, in praising of your name.\r\nHe made the book that hight the House of Fame,\r\nAnd eke the Death of Blanche the Duchess,\r\nAnd the Parliament of Fowles, as I guess,\r\nAnd all the Love of Palamon and Arcite, <25>\r\nOf Thebes, though the story is known lite;*                      *little\r\nAnd many a hymne for your holydays,\r\nThat highte ballads, roundels, virelays.\r\nAnd, for to speak of other holiness,\r\nHe hath in prose translated Boece, <26>\r\nAnd made the Life also of Saint Cecile;\r\nHe made also, gone is a greate while,\r\nOrigenes upon the Magdalene. <27>\r\nHim oughte now to have the lesse pain;*                         *penalty\r\nHe hath made many a lay, and many a thing.\r\nNow as ye be a god, and eke a king,\r\nI your Alcestis, <28> whilom queen of Thrace,\r\nI aske you this man, right of your grace,\r\nThat ye him never hurt in all his life;\r\nAnd he shall sweare to you, and that blife,*                    *quickly\r\nHe shall no more aguilten* in this wise,                         *offend\r\nBut shall maken, as ye will him devise,\r\nOf women true in loving all their life,\r\nWhereso ye will, of maiden or of wife,\r\nAnd further you as much as he missaid\r\nOr* in the Rose, or elles in Cresseide.\u201d                         *either\r\n\r\nThe God of Love answered her anon:\r\n\u201cMadame,\u201d quoth he, \u201cit is so long agone\r\nThat I you knew, so charitable and true,\r\nThat never yet, since that the world was new,\r\nTo me ne found I better none than ye;\r\nIf that I woulde save my degree,\r\nI may nor will not warne* your request;                          *refuse\r\nAll lies in you, do with him as you lest.\r\nI all forgive withoute longer space;*                             *delay\r\nFor he who gives a gift, or doth a grace,\r\nDo it betimes, his thank is well the more; <29>\r\nAnd deeme* ye what he shall do therefor.                        *adjudge\r\nGo thanke now my Lady here,\u201d quoth he.\r\nI rose, and down I set me on my knee,\r\nAnd saide thus; \u201cMadame, the God above\r\nForyielde* you that ye the God of Love                           *reward\r\nHave made me his wrathe to forgive;\r\nAnd grace* so longe for to live,                          *give me grace\r\nThat I may knowe soothly what ye be,\r\nThat have me help\u2019d, and put in this degree!\r\nBut truely I ween\u2019d, as in this case,\r\nNaught t\u2019 have aguilt,* nor done to Love trespass;**           *offended\r\nFor why? a true man, withoute dread,                           **offence\r\nHath not *to parte with* a thieve\u2019s deed.                 *any share in*\r\nNor a true lover oughte me to blame,\r\nThough that I spoke a false lover some shame.\r\nThey oughte rather with me for to hold,\r\nFor that I of Cressida wrote or told,\r\nOr of the Rose, *what so mine author meant;*   *made a true translation*\r\nAlgate, God wot, it was mine intent                         *by all ways\r\nTo further truth in love, and it cherice,*                      *cherish\r\nAnd to beware from falseness and from vice,\r\nBy such example; this was my meaning.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd she answer\u2019d; \u201cLet be thine arguing,\r\nFor Love will not counterpleaded be <30>\r\nIn right nor wrong, and learne that of me;\r\nThou hast thy grace, and hold thee right thereto.\r\nNow will I say what penance thou shalt do\r\nFor thy trespass;* and understand it here:                      *offence\r\nThou shalt, while that thou livest, year by year,\r\nThe moste partie of thy time spend\r\nIn making of a glorious Legend\r\nOf Goode Women, maidenes and wives,\r\nThat were true in loving all their lives;\r\nAnd tell of false men that them betray,\r\nThat all their life do naught but assay\r\nHow many women they may do a shame;\r\nFor in your world that is now *held a game.*        *considered a sport*\r\nAnd though thou like not a lover be, <31>\r\nSpeak well of love; this penance give I thee.\r\nAnd to the God of Love I shall so pray,\r\nThat he shall charge his servants, by any way,\r\nTo further thee, and well thy labour quite:*                    *requite\r\nGo now thy way, thy penance is but lite.\r\nAnd, when this book ye make, give it the queen\r\nOn my behalf, at Eltham, or at Sheen.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe God of Love gan smile, and then he said:\r\n\u201cKnow\u2019st thou,\u201d quoth he, \u201cwhether this be wife or maid,\r\nOr queen, or countess, or of what degree,\r\nThat hath so little penance given thee,\r\nThat hath deserved sorely for to smart?\r\nBut pity runneth soon in gentle* heart; <32>                 *nobly born\r\nThat may\u2019st thou see, she kitheth* what she is.                 *showeth\r\nAnd I answer\u2019d: \u201cNay, Sir, so have I bliss,\r\nNo more but that I see well she is good.\u201d\r\n\u201cThat is a true tale, by my hood,\u201d\r\nQuoth Love; \u201cand that thou knowest well, pardie!\r\nIf it be so that thou advise* thee.                             *bethink\r\nHast thou not in a book, li\u2019th* in thy chest,               *(that) lies\r\nThe greate goodness of the queen Alceste,\r\nThat turned was into a daisy\r\nShe that for her husbande chose to die,\r\nAnd eke to go to hell rather than he;\r\nAnd Hercules rescued her, pardie!\r\nAnd brought her out of hell again to bliss?\u201d\r\nAnd I answer\u2019d again, and saide; \u201cYes,\r\nNow know I her; and is this good Alceste,\r\nThe daisy, and mine own hearte\u2019s rest?\r\nNow feel I well the goodness of this wife,\r\nThat both after her death, and in her life,\r\nHer greate bounty* doubleth her renown.                          *virtue\r\nWell hath she quit* me mine affectioun                      *recompensed\r\nThat I have to her flow\u2019r the daisy;\r\nNo wonder is though Jove her stellify, <33>\r\nAs telleth Agathon, <34> for her goodness;\r\nHer white crowne bears of it witness;\r\nFor all so many virtues hadde she\r\nAs smalle flowrons in her crowne be.\r\nIn remembrance of her, and in honour,\r\nCybele made the daisy, and the flow\u2019r,\r\nY-crowned all with white, as men may see,\r\nAnd Mars gave her a crowne red, pardie!\r\nInstead of rubies set among the white.\u201d\r\n\r\nTherewith this queen wax\u2019d red for shame a lite\r\nWhen she was praised so in her presence.\r\nThen saide Love: \u201cA full great negligence\r\nWas it to thee, that ilke* time thou made                     *that same\r\n\u2018Hide Absolon thy tresses,\u2019 in ballade,\r\nThat thou forgot her in thy song to set,\r\nSince that thou art so greatly in her debt,\r\nAnd knowest well that calendar* is she                   *guide, example\r\nTo any woman that will lover be:\r\nFor she taught all the craft of true loving,\r\nAnd namely* of wifehood the living,                          *especially\r\nAnd all the boundes that she ought to keep:\r\nThy little wit was thilke* time asleep.                            *that\r\nBut now I charge thee, upon thy life,\r\nThat in thy Legend thou make* of this wife,            *poetise, compose\r\nWhen thou hast other small y-made before;\r\nAnd fare now well, I charge thee no more.\r\nBut ere I go, thus much I will thee tell, \u2014\r\nNever shall no true lover come in hell.\r\nThese other ladies, sitting here a-row,\r\nBe in my ballad, if thou canst them know,\r\nAnd in thy bookes all thou shalt them find;\r\nHave them in thy Legend now all in mind;\r\nI mean of them that be in thy knowing.\r\nFor here be twenty thousand more sitting\r\nThan that thou knowest, goode women all,\r\nAnd true of love, for aught that may befall;\r\nMake the metres of them as thee lest;\r\nI must go home, \u2014 the sunne draweth west, \u2014\r\nTo Paradise, with all this company:\r\nAnd serve alway the freshe daisy.\r\nAt Cleopatra I will that thou begin,\r\nAnd so forth, and my love so shalt thou win;\r\nFor let see now what man, that lover be,\r\nWill do so strong a pain for love as she.\r\nI wot well that thou may\u2019st not all it rhyme,\r\nThat suche lovers didden in their time;\r\nIt were too long to readen and to hear;\r\nSuffice me thou make in this mannere,\r\nThat thou rehearse of all their life the great,*              *substance\r\nAfter* these old authors list for to treat;                *according as\r\nFor whoso shall so many a story tell,\r\nSay shortly, or he shall too longe dwell.\u201d\r\n\r\nAnd with that word my bookes gan I take,\r\nAnd right thus on my Legend gan I make.\r\n\r\nThus endeth the Prologue.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The prologue to The Legend of Good Women\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Bernard, the Monke, saw not all, pardie!: a proverbial saying,\r\nsignifying that even the wisest, or those who claim to be the\r\nwisest, cannot know everything. Saint Bernard, who was the\r\nlast, or among the last, of the Fathers, lived in the first half of\r\nthe twelfth century.\r\n\r\n2. Compare Chaucer\u2019s account of his habits, in \u201cThe House of\r\nFame.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. See introductory note to \u201cThe Flower and the Leaf.\u201d\r\n\r\n4.                  \u201cye have herebefore\r\nOf making ropen, and led away the corn\u201d\r\nThe meaning is, that the \u201clovers\u201d have long ago said all that can\r\nbe said, by way of poetry, or \u201cmaking\u201d on the subject. See note\r\n89 to \u201cTroilus and Cressida\u201d for the etymology of \u201cmaking\u201d\r\nmeaning \u201cwriting poetry.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. The poet glides here into an address to his lady.\r\n\r\n6. Europa was the daughter of Agenores, king of Phrygia. She\r\nwas carried away to Crete by Jupiter, disguised as a lovely and\r\ntame bull, on whose back Europa mounted as she was sporting\r\nwith her maidens by the sea-shore. The story is beautifully told\r\nin Horace, Odes, iii. 27.\r\n\r\n7. See \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls,\u201d which was supposed to\r\nhappen on St. Valentine\u2019s day.\r\n\r\n8. The tidife:  The titmouse, or any other small bird, which\r\nsometimes brings up the cuckoo\u2019s young when its own have\r\nbeen destroyed. See note 44 to \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls.\u201d\r\n\r\n9. Ethic: the \u201cEthics\u201d of Aristotle.\r\n\r\n10. \u201cFor as to me is lever none nor lother,\r\nI n\u2019am withholden yet with neither n\u2019other.\u201d\r\ni.e For as neither is more liked or disliked by me, I am not\r\nbound by, holden to, either the one or the other.\r\n\r\n11. All of another tun i.e. wine of another tun \u2014 a quite\r\ndifferent matter.\r\n\r\n12. Compare the description of the arbour in \u201cThe Flower and\r\nthe Leaf.\u201d\r\n\r\n13. Flowrons: florets; little flowers on the disk of the main\r\nflower; French \u201cfleuron.\u201d\r\n\r\n14. Mr Bell thinks that Chaucer here praises the complaisance\r\nof Marcia, the wife of Cato, in complying with his will when he\r\nmade her over to his friend Hortensius. It would be in better\r\nkeeping with the spirit of the poet\u2019s praise, to believe that we\r\nshould read \u201cPorcia Catoun\u201d \u2014 Porcia the daughter of Cato,\r\nwho was married to Brutus, and whose perfect wifehood has\r\nbeen celebrated in The Franklin\u2019s Tale. See note 25 to the\r\nFranklin\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n15. Isoude: See note 21 to \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls\u201d.\r\n\r\n16. Lavine: Lavinia, the heroine of the Aeneid, who became the\r\nwife of Aeneas.\r\n\r\n17. Polyxena, daughter of Priam, king of Troy, fell in\r\nlove with Achilles, and, when he was killed, she fled to the\r\nGreek camp, and slew herself on the tomb of her hero-lover.\r\n\r\n18. Mountance: extent, duration. See note 84 to \u201cThe House of\r\nFame\u201d.\r\n\r\n19. Relic: emblem; or cherished treasure; like the relics at\r\nthe shrines of saints.\r\n\r\n20. Losengeour: deceiver. See note 31 to the Nun\u2019s Priest\u2019s\r\nTale.\r\n\r\n21. \u201cToteler\u201d is an old form of the word \u201ctatler,\u201d from the\r\nAnglo-Saxon, \u201ctotaelan,\u201d to talk much, to tattle.\r\n\r\n22. Envy is lavender of the court alway: a \u201clavender\u201d  is a\r\nwasherwoman or laundress; the word represents \u201cmeretrice\u201din\r\nDante\u2019s original \u2014 meaning a courtezan; but we can well\r\nunderstand that Chaucer thought it prudent, and at the same\r\ntime more true to the moral state of the English Court, to\r\nchange the character assigned to Envy. He means that Envy is\r\nperpetually at Court, like some garrulous, bitter old woman\r\nemployed there in the most servile offices, who remains at her\r\npost through all the changes among the courtiers. The passage\r\ncited from Dante will be found in the \u201cInferno,\u201d canto xiii. 64 \u2014\r\n69.\r\n\r\n23. Chaucer says that the usurping lords who seized on the\r\ngovernment of the free Lombard cities, had no regard for any\r\nrule of government save sheer tyranny  \u2014 but a natural lord, and\r\nno usurper, ought not to be a tyrant.\r\n\r\n24. Farmer: one who merely farms power or revenue for his\r\nown purposes and his own gain.\r\n\r\n25. This was the first version of the Knight\u2019s tale. See the\r\nintroductory note, above\r\n\r\n26. Boece: Boethius\u2019 \u201cDe Consolatione Philosophiae;\u201d to which\r\nfrequent reference is made in The Canterbury Tales. See, for\r\ninstances, note 91 to the Knight\u2019s Tale; and note 34 to the\r\nSquire\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n27. A poem entitled \u201cThe Lamentation of Mary Magdalene,\u201d\r\nsaid to have been \u201ctaken out of St Origen,\u201d is included in the\r\neditions of Chaucer; but its authenticity, and consequently its\r\nidentity with the poem here mentioned, are doubted.\r\n\r\n28. For the story of Alcestis, see note 11 to \u201cThe Court of\r\nLove.\u201d\r\n\r\n29. \u201cFor he who gives a gift, or doth a grace,\r\n     Do it betimes, his thank is well the more\u201d\r\nA paraphrase of the well-known proverb, \u201cBis dat qui cito dat.\u201d\r\n(\u201cHe gives twice who gives promptly\u201d)\r\n\r\n30. The same prohibition occurs in the Fifteenth Statute of \u201cThe\r\nCourt of Love.\u201d\r\n\r\n31. Chaucer is always careful to allege his abstinence from the\r\npursuits of gallantry; he does so prominently in \u201cThe Court of\r\nLove,\u201d \u201cThe Assembly of Fowls,\u201d and \u201cThe House of Fame.\u201d\r\n\r\n32. Pity runneth soon in gentle heart: the same is said of\r\nTheseus, in The Knight\u2019s Tale, and of Canace, by the falcon, in\r\nThe Squire\u2019s Tale.\r\n\r\n33. Stellify: assign to a place among the stars; as Jupiter did to\r\nAndromeda and Cassiopeia.\r\n\r\n34. Agathon: there was an Athenian dramatist of this name,\r\nwho might have made the virtues and fortunes of Alcestis his\r\ntheme; but the reference is too vague for the author to be\r\nidentified with any confidence.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAUCER\u2019S A. B. C. <1>\r\nCALLED\r\nLA PRIERE DE NOSTRE DAME <2>\r\n\r\nA.\r\n\r\nALMIGHTY and all-merciable* Queen,                         *all-merciful\r\nTo whom all this world fleeth for succour,\r\nTo have release of sin, of sorrow, of teen!*                 *affliction\r\nGlorious Virgin! of all flowers flow\u2019r,\r\nTo thee I flee, confounded in errour!\r\nHelp and relieve, almighty debonair,*                  *gracious, gentle\r\nHave mercy of my perilous languour!\r\nVanquish\u2019d me hath my cruel adversair.\r\n\r\nB.\r\n\r\nBounty* so fix\u2019d hath in thy heart his tent,          *goodness, charity\r\nThat well I wot thou wilt my succour be;\r\nThou canst not *warne that* with good intent             *refuse he who*\r\nAsketh thy help, thy heart is ay so free!\r\nThou art largess* of plein** felicity,          *liberal bestower **full\r\nHaven and refuge of quiet and rest!\r\nLo! how that thieves seven <3> chase me!\r\nHelp, Lady bright, ere that my ship to-brest!*      *be broken to pieces\r\n\r\nC.\r\n\r\nComfort is none, but in you, Lady dear!\r\nFor lo! my sin and my confusion,\r\nWhich ought not in thy presence to appear,\r\nHave ta\u2019en on me a grievous action,*                            *control\r\nOf very right and desperation!\r\nAnd, as by right, they mighte well sustene\r\nThat I were worthy my damnation,\r\nNe were it mercy of you, blissful Queen!\r\n\r\nD.\r\n\r\nDoubt is there none, Queen of misericorde,*                  *compassion\r\nThat thou art cause of grace and mercy here;\r\nGod vouchesaf\u2019d, through thee, with us t\u2019accord;*      *to be reconciled\r\nFor, certes, Christe\u2019s blissful mother dear!\r\nWere now the bow y-bent, in such mannere\r\nAs it was first, of justice and of ire,\r\nThe rightful God would of no mercy hear;\r\nBut through thee have we grace as we desire.\r\n\r\nE.\r\n\r\nEver hath my hope of refuge in thee be\u2019;\r\nFor herebefore full oft in many a wise\r\nUnto mercy hast thou received me.\r\nBut mercy, Lady! at the great assize,\r\nWhen we shall come before the high Justice!\r\nSo little fruit shall then in me be found,\r\nThat,* thou ere that day correcte me,                            *unless\r\nOf very right my work will me confound.\r\n\r\nF.\r\n\r\nFlying, I flee for succour to thy tent,\r\nMe for to hide from tempest full of dread;\r\nBeseeching you, that ye you not absent,\r\nThough I be wick\u2019. O help yet at this need!\r\nAll* have I been a beast in wit and deed,                      *although\r\nYet, Lady! thou me close in with thy grace;\r\n*Thine enemy and mine,* \u2014 Lady, take heed! \u2014               *the devil*\r\nUnto my death in point is me to chase.\r\n\r\nG.\r\n\r\nGracious Maid and Mother! which that never\r\nWert bitter nor in earthe nor in sea, <4>\r\nBut full of sweetness and of mercy ever,\r\nHelp, that my Father be not wroth with me!\r\nSpeak thou, for I ne dare Him not see;\r\nSo have I done in earth, alas the while!\r\nThat, certes, but if thou my succour be,\r\nTo sink etern He will my ghost exile.\r\n\r\nH.\r\n\r\nHe vouchesaf\u2019d, tell Him, as was His will,\r\nBecome a man, *as for our alliance,*               *to ally us with god*\r\nAnd with His blood He wrote that blissful bill\r\nUpon the cross, as general acquittance\r\nTo ev\u2019ry penitent in full creance;*                              *belief\r\nAnd therefore, Lady bright! thou for us pray;\r\nThen shalt thou stenten* alle His grievance,              *put an end to\r\nAnd make our foe to failen of his prey.\r\n\r\nI.\r\n\r\nI wote well thou wilt be our succour,\r\nThou art so full of bounty in certain;\r\nFor, when a soule falleth in errour,\r\nThy pity go\u2019th, and haleth* him again;                          *draweth\r\nThen makest thou his peace with his Sov\u2019reign,\r\nAnd bringest him out of the crooked street:\r\nWhoso thee loveth shall not love in vain,\r\nThat shall he find *as he the life shall lete.*          *when he leaves\r\n                                                                   life*\r\n                               K.\r\n\r\n*Kalendares illumined* be they                     *brilliant exemplars*\r\nThat in this world be lighted with thy name;\r\nAnd whoso goeth with thee the right way,\r\nHim shall not dread in soule to be lame;\r\nNow, Queen of comfort! since thou art the same\r\nTo whom I seeke for my medicine,\r\nLet not my foe no more my wound entame;*                 *injure, molest\r\nMy heal into thy hand all I resign.\r\n\r\nL.\r\n\r\nLady, thy sorrow can I not portray\r\nUnder that cross, nor his grievous penance;\r\nBut, for your bothe\u2019s pain, I you do pray,\r\nLet not our *aller foe* make his boastance,        *the foe of us all \u2014\r\nThat he hath in his listes, with mischance,                       Satan*\r\n*Convicte that* ye both have bought so dear;       *ensnared that which*\r\nAs I said erst, thou ground of all substance!\r\nContinue on us thy piteous eyen clear.\r\n\r\nM.\r\n\r\nMoses, that saw the bush of flames red\r\nBurning, of which then never a stick brenn\u2019d,*                   *burned\r\nWas sign of thine unwemmed* maidenhead.                     *unblemished\r\nThou art the bush, on which there gan descend\r\nThe Holy Ghost, the which that Moses wend*             *weened, supposed\r\nHad been on fire; and this was in figure. <5>\r\nNow, Lady! from the fire us do defend,\r\nWhich that in hell eternally shall dure.\r\n\r\nN.\r\n\r\nNoble Princess! that never haddest peer;\r\nCertes if any comfort in us be,\r\nThat cometh of thee, Christe\u2019s mother dear!\r\nWe have none other melody nor glee,*                           *pleasure\r\nUs to rejoice in our adversity;\r\nNor advocate, that will and dare so pray\r\nFor us, and for as little hire as ye,\r\nThat helpe for an Ave-Mary or tway.\r\n\r\nO.\r\n\r\nO very light of eyen that be blind!\r\nO very lust* of labour and distress!                   *relief, pleasure\r\nO treasurer of bounty to mankind!\r\nThe whom God chose to mother for humbless!\r\nFrom his ancill* <6> he made thee mistress                     *handmaid\r\nOf heav\u2019n and earth, our *billes up to bede;*   *offer up our petitions*\r\nThis world awaiteth ever on thy goodness;\r\nFor thou ne failedst never wight at need.\r\n\r\nP.\r\n\r\nPurpose I have sometime for to enquere\r\nWherefore and why the Holy Ghost thee sought,\r\nWhen Gabrielis voice came to thine ear;\r\nHe not to war* us such a wonder wrought,                        *afflict\r\nBut for to save us, that sithens us bought:\r\nThen needeth us no weapon us to save,\r\nBut only, where we did not as we ought,\r\nDo penitence, and mercy ask and have.\r\n\r\nQ.\r\n\r\nQueen of comfort, right when I me bethink\r\nThat I aguilt* have bothe Him and thee,                        *offended\r\nAnd that my soul is worthy for to sink,\r\nAlas! I, caitiff, whither shall I flee?\r\nWho shall unto thy Son my meane* be?                 *medium of approach\r\nWho, but thyself, that art of pity well?*                      *fountain\r\nThou hast more ruth on our adversity\r\nThan in this world might any tongue tell!\r\n\r\nR.\r\n\r\nRedress me, Mother, and eke me chastise!\r\nFor certainly my Father\u2019s chastising\r\nI dare not abiden in no wise,\r\nSo hideous is his full reckoning.\r\nMother! of whom our joy began to spring,\r\nBe ye my judge, and eke my soule\u2019s leach;*                    *physician\r\nFor ay in you is pity abounding\r\nTo each that will of pity you beseech.\r\n\r\nS.\r\n\r\nSooth is it that He granteth no pity\r\nWithoute thee; for God of his goodness\r\nForgiveth none, *but it like unto thee;*               *unless it please\r\nHe hath thee made vicar and mistress                               thee*\r\nOf all this world, and eke governess\r\nOf heaven; and represseth his justice\r\nAfter* thy will; and therefore in witness                  *according to\r\nHe hath thee crowned in so royal wise.\r\n\r\nT.\r\n\r\nTemple devout! where God chose his wonning,*                      *abode\r\nFrom which, these misbeliev\u2019d deprived be,\r\nTo you my soule penitent I bring;\r\nReceive me, for I can no farther flee.\r\nWith thornes venomous, O Heaven\u2019s Queen!\r\nFor which the earth accursed was full yore,\r\nI am so wounded, as ye may well see,\r\nThat I am lost almost, it smart so sore!\r\n\r\nV.\r\n\r\nVirgin! that art so noble of apparail,*                          *aspect\r\nThat leadest us into the highe tow\u2019r\r\nOf Paradise, thou me *wiss and counsail*            *direct and counsel*\r\nHow I may have thy grace and thy succour;\r\nAll have I been in filth and in errour,\r\nLady! *on that country thou me adjourn,*         *take me to that place*\r\nThat called is thy bench of freshe flow\u2019r,\r\nThere as that mercy ever shall sojourn.\r\n\r\nX.\r\n\r\nXpe <7> thy Son, that in this world alight,\r\nUpon a cross to suffer his passioun,\r\nAnd suffer\u2019d eke that Longeus his heart pight,* <8>             *pierced\r\nAnd made his hearte-blood to run adown;\r\nAnd all this was for my salvatioun:\r\nAnd I to him am false and eke unkind,\r\nAnd yet he wills not my damnation;\r\n*This thank I you,* succour of all mankind!               *for this I am\r\n                                                        indebted to you*\r\n                               Y.\r\n\r\nYsaac was figure of His death certain,\r\nThat so farforth his father would obey,\r\nThat him *ne raughte* nothing to be slain;                *he cared not*\r\nRight so thy Son list as a lamb to dey:*                            *die\r\nNow, Lady full of mercy! I you pray,\r\nSince he his mercy \u2019sured me so large,\r\nBe ye not scant, for all we sing and say,\r\nThat ye be from vengeance alway our targe.*             *shield, defence\r\n\r\nZ.\r\n\r\nZachary you calleth the open well <9>\r\nThat washed sinful soul out of his guilt;\r\nTherefore this lesson out I will to tell,\r\nThat, n\u2019ere* thy tender hearte, we were spilt.**        *were it not for\r\nNow, Lady brighte! since thou canst and wilt,        *destroyed, undone*\r\nBe to the seed of Adam merciable;*                             *merciful\r\nBring us unto that palace that is built\r\nTo penitents that be *to mercy able!*             *fit to receive mercy*\r\n\r\nExplicit.*                                                      *The end\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Chaucer\u2019s A. B. C.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Chaucer\u2019s A. B. C. \u2014 a prayer to the Virgin, in twenty three\r\nverses, beginning with the letters of the alphabet in their\r\norder \u2014 is said to have been written \u201cat the request of Blanche,\r\nDuchess of Lancaster, as a prayer for her private use, being a\r\nwoman in her religion very devout.\u201d It was first printed in\r\nSpeght\u2019s edition of 1597.\r\n\r\n2. La Priere De Nostre Dame: French, \u201cThe Prayer of Our\r\nLady.\u201d\r\n\r\n3. Thieves seven: i.e. the seven deadly sins\r\n\r\n4. Mary\u2019s name recalls the waters of \u201cMarah\u201d or bitterness\r\n(Exod. xv. 23), or the prayer of Naomi in her grief that she\r\nmight be called not Naomi, but \u201cMara\u201d (Ruth i. 20). Mary,\r\nhowever, is understood to mean \u201cexalted.\u201d\r\n\r\n5. A typical representation. See The Prioress\u2019s Tale, third\r\nstanza.\r\n\r\n6. The reference evidently is to Luke i. 38 \u2014 \u201cEcce ancilla\r\nDomini,\u201d (\u201cBehold the handmaid of the Lord\u201d) the Virgin\u2019s\r\nhumble answer to Gabriel at the Annunciation.\r\n\r\n7. \u201cXpe\u201d represents the Greek letters chi rho epsilon, and is a\r\ncontraction for \u201cChriste.\u201d\r\n\r\n8. According to tradition, the soldier who struck the Saviour to\r\nthe heart with his spear was named Longeus, and was blind;\r\nbut, touching his eyes by chance with the mingled blood and\r\nwater that flowed down the shaft upon his hands, he was\r\ninstantly restored to sight.\r\n\r\n9. \u201cIn that day there shall be a fountain opened to the house of\r\nDavid and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin and for\r\nuncleanness\u201d (Zech. xiii. 1).\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nA GOODLY BALLAD OF CHAUCER.<1>\r\n\r\n\r\nMOTHER of nurture, best belov\u2019d of all,\r\nAnd freshe flow\u2019r, to whom good thrift God send\r\nYour child, if it lust* you me so to call,                       *please\r\n*All be I*  unable myself so to pretend,                  *although I be\r\nTo your discretion I recommend\r\nMy heart and all, with ev\u2019ry circumstance,\r\nAll wholly to be under your governance.\r\n\r\nMost desire I, and have and ever shall,\r\nThinge which might your hearte\u2019s ease amend\r\nHave me excus\u2019d, my power is but small;\r\nNathless, of right, ye oughte to commend\r\nMy goode will, which fame would entend*                  *attend, strive\r\nTo do you service; for my suffisance*                       *contentment\r\nIs wholly to be under your governance.\r\n\r\nMieux un in heart which never shall apall, <2>\r\nAy fresh and new, and right glad to dispend\r\nMy time in your service, what so befall,\r\nBeseeching your excellence to defend\r\nMy simpleness, if ignorance offend\r\nIn any wise; since that mine affiance\r\nIs wholly to be under your governance.\r\n\r\nDaisy of light, very ground of comfort,\r\nThe sunne\u2019s daughter ye light, as I read;\r\nFor when he west\u2019reth, farewell your disport!\r\nBy your nature alone, right for pure dread\r\nOf the rude night, that with his *boistous weed*          *rude garment*\r\nOf darkness shadoweth our hemisphere,\r\nThen close ye, my life\u2019s lady dear!\r\n\r\nDawneth the day unto his kind resort,\r\nAnd Phoebus your father, with his streames red,\r\nAdorns the morrow, consuming the sort*                            *crowd\r\nOf misty cloudes, that would overlade\r\nTrue humble heartes with their mistihead.*           *dimness, mistiness\r\nNew comfort adaws,* when your eyen clear                 *dawns, awakens\r\nDisclose and spread, my life\u2019s lady dear.\r\n\r\nJe voudrais* \u2014 but the greate God disposeth,              *I would wish\r\nAnd maketh casual, by his Providence,\r\nSuch thing as manne\u2019s fraile wit purposeth,\r\nAll for the best, if that your conscience\r\nNot grudge it, but in humble patience\r\nIt receive; for God saith, withoute fable,\r\nA faithful heart ever is acceptable.\r\n\r\nCauteles* whoso useth gladly, gloseth;**              *cautious speeches\r\nTo eschew such it is right high prudence;                    **deceiveth\r\nWhat ye said ones mine heart opposeth,\r\nThat my writing japes* in your absence            *jests, coarse stories\r\nPleased you much better than my presence:\r\nYet can I more; ye be not excusable;\r\nA faithful heart is ever acceptable.\r\n\r\nQuaketh my pen; my spirit supposeth\r\nThat in my writing ye will find offence;\r\nMine hearte welketh* thus; anon it riseth;              *withers, faints\r\nNow hot, now cold, and after in fervence;\r\nThat is amiss, is caus\u2019d of negligence,\r\nAnd not of malice; therefore be merciable;\r\nA faithful heart is ever acceptable.\r\n\r\n                            L\u2019Envoy.\r\n\r\nForthe, complaint! forth, lacking eloquence;\r\nForth little letter, of enditing lame!\r\nI have besought my lady\u2019s sapience\r\nOn thy behalfe, to accept in game\r\nThine inability; do thou the same.\r\nAbide! have more yet! *Je serve Joyesse!*                  *I serve Joy*\r\nNow forth, I close thee in holy Venus\u2019 name!\r\nThee shall unclose my hearte\u2019s governess.\r\n\r\nNotes To a Goodly Ballad Of Chaucer\r\n\r\n1. This elegant little poem is believed to have been addressed to\r\nMargaret, Countess of Pembroke, in whose name Chaucer\r\nfound one of those opportunities of praising the daisy he never\r\nlost. (Transcriber\u2019s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer\r\nwas not the author of this poem)\r\n\r\n2. Mieux un in heart which never shall apall: better one who in\r\nheart shall never pall \u2014 whose love will never weary.\r\n\r\n                 A BALLAD SENT TO KING RICHARD.\r\n\r\nSOMETIME this world was so steadfast and stable,\r\nThat man\u2019s word was held obligation;\r\nAnd now it is so false and deceivable,*                       *deceitful\r\nThat word and work, as in conclusion,\r\nBe nothing one; for turned up so down\r\nIs all this world, through meed* and wilfulness,                *bribery\r\nThat all is lost for lack of steadfastness.\r\n\r\nWhat makes this world to be so variable,\r\nBut lust* that folk have in dissension?                        *pleasure\r\nFor now-a-days a man is held unable*                    *fit for nothing\r\n*But if* he can, by some collusion,**             *unless* *fraud, trick\r\nDo his neighbour wrong or oppression.\r\nWhat causeth this but wilful wretchedness,\r\nThat all is lost for lack of steadfastness?\r\n\r\nTruth is put down, reason is holden fable;\r\nVirtue hath now no domination;\r\nPity exil\u2019d, no wight is merciable;\r\nThrough covetise is blent* discretion;                          *blinded\r\nThe worlde hath made permutation\r\nFrom right to wrong, from truth to fickleness,\r\nThat all is lost for lack of steadfastness.\r\n\r\n                            L\u2019Envoy.\r\n\r\nO Prince! desire to be honourable;\r\nCherish thy folk, and hate extortion;\r\nSuffer nothing that may be reprovable*            *a subject of reproach\r\nTo thine estate, done in thy region;*                           *kingdom\r\nShow forth the sword of castigation;\r\nDread God, do law, love thorough worthiness,\r\nAnd wed thy folk again to steadfastness!\r\n\r\n               L\u2019ENVOY OF CHAUCER TO BUKTON. <1>\r\n\r\nMy Master Bukton, when of Christ our King\r\nWas asked, What is truth or soothfastness?\r\nHe not a word answer\u2019d to that asking,\r\nAs who saith, no man is all true, I guess;\r\nAnd therefore, though I highte* to express                     *promised\r\nThe sorrow and woe that is in marriage,\r\nI dare not write of it no wickedness,\r\nLest I myself fall eft* in such dotage.**                 *again **folly\r\n\r\nI will not say how that it is the chain\r\nOf Satanas, on which he gnaweth ever;\r\nBut I dare say, were he out of his pain,\r\nAs by his will he would be bounden never.\r\nBut thilke* doated fool that eft had lever                         *that\r\nY-chained be, than out of prison creep,\r\nGod let him never from his woe dissever,\r\nNor no man him bewaile though he weep!\r\n\r\nBut yet, lest thou do worse, take a wife;\r\nBet is to wed than burn in worse wise; <2>\r\nBut thou shalt have sorrow on thy flesh *thy life,*       *all thy life*\r\nAnd be thy wife\u2019s thrall, as say these wise.\r\nAnd if that Holy Writ may not suffice,\r\nExperience shall thee teache, so may hap,\r\nThat thee were lever to be taken in Frise, <3>\r\nThan eft* to fall of wedding in the trap.                         *again\r\n\r\nThis little writ, proverbes, or figure,\r\nI sende you; take keep* of it, I read!                             *heed\r\n\u201cUnwise is he that can no weal endure;\r\nIf thou be sicker,* put thee not in dread.\u201d**      *in security **danger\r\nThe Wife of Bath I pray you that you read,\r\nOf this mattere which that we have on hand.\r\nGod grante you your life freely to lead\r\nIn freedom, for full hard is to be bond.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to L\u2019Envoy of Chaucer to Bukton.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. Tyrwhitt, founding on the reference to the Wife of Bath,\r\nplaces this among Chaucer\u2019s latest compositions; and states that\r\none Peter de Bukton held the office of king\u2019s escheator for\r\nYorkshire in 1397. In some of the old editions, the verses were\r\nmade the Envoy to the Book of the Duchess Blanche \u2014 in very\r\nbad taste, when we consider that the object of that poem was to\r\nconsole John of Gaunt under the loss of his wife.\r\n\r\n2. \u201cBut if they cannot contain, let them marry: for it is better to\r\nmarry than to burn.\u201d  1 Cor. vii. 9\r\n\r\n3. Lever to be taken in Frise: better to be taken prisoner in\r\nFriesland \u2014 where probably some conflict was raging at the\r\ntime.\r\n\r\n                    A BALLAD OF GENTLENESS.\r\n\r\nTHE firste stock-father of gentleness, <1>\r\nWhat man desireth gentle for to be,\r\nMust follow his trace, and all his wittes dress,*                 *apply\r\nVirtue to love, and vices for to flee;\r\nFor unto virtue longeth dignity,\r\nAnd not the reverse, safely dare I deem,\r\n*All wear he* mitre, crown, or diademe.                *whether he wear*\r\n\r\nThis firste stock was full of righteousness,\r\nTrue of his word, sober, pious, and free,\r\n*Clean of his ghost,* and loved business,               *pure of spirit*\r\nAgainst the vice of sloth, in honesty;\r\nAnd, but his heir love virtue as did he,\r\nHe is not gentle, though he riche seem,\r\nAll wear he mitre, crown, or diademe.\r\n\r\nVice may well be heir to old richess,\r\nBut there may no man, as men may well see,\r\nBequeath his heir his virtuous nobless;\r\nThat is appropried* to no degree,                    *specially reserved\r\nBut to the first Father in majesty,\r\nWhich makes his heire him that doth him queme,*                  *please\r\nAll wear he mitre, crown, or diademe.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to A Ballad of Gentleness\r\n\r\n\r\n1. The firste stock-father of gentleness: Christ\r\n\r\nTHE COMPLAINT OF CHAUCER TO HIS  PURSE.\r\n\r\nTo you, my purse, and to none other wight,\r\nComplain I, for ye be my lady dear!\r\nI am sorry now that ye be so light,\r\nFor certes ye now make me heavy cheer;\r\nMe were as lief be laid upon my bier.\r\nFor which unto your mercy thus I cry,\r\nBe heavy again, or elles must I die!\r\n\r\nNow vouchesafe this day, ere it be night,\r\nThat I of you the blissful sound may hear,\r\nOr see your colour like the sunne bright,\r\nThat of yellowness hadde peer.\r\nYe be my life! Ye be my hearte\u2019s steer!*                         *rudder\r\nQueen of comfort and of good company!\r\nBe heavy again, or elles must I die!\r\n\r\nNow, purse! that art to me my life\u2019s light\r\nAnd savour, as down in this worlde here,\r\nOut of this towne help me through your might,\r\nSince that you will not be my treasurere;\r\nFor I am shave as nigh as any frere. <1>\r\nBut now I pray unto your courtesy,\r\nBe heavy again, or elles must I die!\r\n\r\n                  Chaucer\u2019s Envoy to the King.\r\n\r\nO conqueror of Brute\u2019s Albion, <2>\r\nWhich by lineage and free election\r\nBe very king, this song to you I send;\r\nAnd ye which may all mine harm amend,\r\nHave mind upon my supplication!\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to The Complaint of Chaucer to his Purse\r\n\r\n\r\n1. \u201cI am shave as nigh as any frere\u201d i.e. \u201cI am as bare of coin as\r\na friar\u2019s tonsure of hair.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. Brute, or Brutus, was the legendary first king of Britain.\r\n\r\nGOOD COUNSEL OF CHAUCER. <1>\r\n\r\nFLEE from the press, and dwell with soothfastness;\r\nSuffice thee thy good, though it be small;\r\nFor hoard hath hate, and climbing tickleness,*              *instability\r\nPress hath envy, and *weal is blent* o\u2019er all,   *prosperity is blinded*\r\nSavour* no more than thee behove shall;                *have a taste for\r\nRead* well thyself, that other folk canst read;                 *counsel\r\nAnd truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.*                    *doubt\r\n\r\nPaine thee not each crooked to redress,\r\nIn trust of her that turneth as a ball; <2>\r\nGreat rest standeth in little business:\r\nBeware also to spurn against a nail; <3>\r\nStrive not as doth a crocke* with a wall;                   *earthen pot\r\nDeeme* thyself that deemest others\u2019 deed,                         *judge\r\nAnd truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.\r\n\r\nWhat thee is sent, receive in buxomness;*                    *submission\r\nThe wrestling of this world asketh a fall;\r\nHere is no home, here is but wilderness.\r\nForth, pilgrim! Forthe beast, out of thy stall!\r\nLook up on high, and thank thy God of all!\r\n*Weive thy lust,* and let thy ghost* thee lead,             *forsake thy\r\n And truth thee shall deliver, it is no dread.             inclinations*\r\n                                                                 *spirit\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Good Counsel of Chaucer\r\n\r\n\r\n1. This poem is said to have been composed by Chaucer \u201cupon\r\nhis deathbed, lying in anguish.\u201d\r\n\r\n2. Her that turneth as a ball: Fortune.\r\n\r\n3. To spurn against a nail; \u201cagainst the pricks.\u201d\r\n\r\nPROVERBS OF CHAUCER. <1>\r\n\r\nWHAT should these clothes thus manifold,\r\nLo! this hot summer\u2019s day?\r\nAfter great heate cometh cold;\r\nNo man cast his pilche* away.                     *pelisse, furred cloak\r\nOf all this world the large compass\r\nWill not in mine arms twain;\r\nWho so muche will embrace,\r\nLittle thereof he shall distrain.*                                *grasp\r\n\r\nThe world so wide, the air so remuable,*                       *unstable\r\nThe silly man so little of stature;\r\nThe green of ground and clothing so mutable,\r\nThe fire so hot and subtile of nature;\r\nThe water *never in one* \u2014 what creature               *never the same*\r\nThat made is of these foure <2> thus flitting,\r\nMay steadfast be, as here, in his living?\r\n\r\nThe more I go, the farther I am behind;\r\nThe farther behind, the nearer my war\u2019s end;\r\nThe more I seek, the worse can I find;\r\nThe lighter leave, the lother for to wend; <3>\r\nThe better I live, the more out of mind;\r\nIs this fortune, *n\u2019ot I,* or infortune;*       *I know not* *misfortune\r\nThough I go loose, tied am I with a loigne.*               *line, tether\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Proverbs of Chaucer\r\n\r\n\r\n1. (Transcriber\u2019s Note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer\u2019s\r\nmay have been the author  of the first stanza of this poem, but\r\nwas not the author of the second and third).\r\n\r\n2. These foure: that is, the four elements, of which man was\r\nbelieved to be composed.\r\n\r\n3. The lighter leave, the lother for to wend: The more easy\r\n(through age) for me to depart, the less willing I am to go.\r\n\r\nVIRELAY.  <1>\r\n\r\nALONE walking\r\nIn thought plaining,\r\nAnd sore sighing;\r\n            All desolate,\r\nMe rememb\u2019ring\r\nOf my living;\r\nMy death wishing\r\n            Both early and late.\r\n\r\nInfortunate\r\nIs so my fate,\r\nThat, wot ye what?\r\n            Out of measure\r\nMy life I hate;\r\nThus desperate,\r\nIn such poor estate,\r\n            Do I endure.\r\n\r\nOf other cure\r\nAm I not sure;\r\nThus to endure\r\n            Is hard, certain;\r\nSuch is my ure,*                                            *destiny <2>\r\nI you ensure;\r\nWhat creature\r\n            May have more pain?\r\n\r\nMy truth so plain\r\nIs taken in vain,\r\nAnd great disdain\r\n            In remembrance;\r\nYet I full fain\r\nWould me complain,\r\nMe to abstain\r\n            From this penance.\r\n\r\nBut, in substance,\r\nNone alleggeance*                                           *alleviation\r\nOf my grievance\r\n            Can I not find;\r\nRight so my chance,\r\nWith displeasance,\r\nDoth me advance;\r\n            And thus an end.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Virelay\r\n\r\n\r\n1. (Transcriber\u2019s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer\r\nwas not the author of this poem)\r\n\r\n2. Ure: \u201cheur,\u201d or destiny; the same word that enters into\r\n\u201cbonheur\u201d and \u201cmalheur.\u201d (French: happiness & unhappiness)\r\n\r\n                    \u201cSINCE I FROM LOVE.\u201d <1>\r\n\r\nSINCE I from Love escaped am so fat,\r\nI ne\u2019er think to be in his prison ta\u2019en;\r\nSince I am free, I count him not a bean.\r\n\r\nHe may answer, and saye this and that;\r\nI *do no force,* I speak right as I mean;                     *care not*\r\nSince I from Love escaped am so fat.\r\n\r\nLove hath my name struck out of his slat,*                  *slate, list\r\nAnd he is struck out of my bookes clean,\r\nFor ever more; there is none other mean;\r\nSince I from Love escaped am so fat.\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to \u201cSince I from Love\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n1. (Transcriber\u2019s note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer\r\nwas not the author of this poem)\r\n\r\nCHAUCER\u2019S WORDS TO HIS SCRIVENER.\r\n\r\nADAM Scrivener, if ever it thee befall\r\nBoece or Troilus for to write anew,\r\nUnder thy long locks thou may\u2019st have the scall*                   *scab\r\nBut *after my making* thou write more true!             *according to my\r\nSo oft a day I must thy work renew,                           composing*\r\nIt to correct, and eke to rub and scrape;\r\nAnd all is through thy negligence and rape.*                      *haste\r\n\r\nCHAUCER\u2019S PROPHECY. <1>\r\n\r\nWHEN priestes *failen in their saws,*               *come short of their\r\nAnd lordes turne Godde\u2019s laws                                profession*\r\n                       Against the right;\r\nAnd lechery is holden as *privy solace,*                *secret delight*\r\nAnd robbery as free purchase,\r\n                      Beware then of ill!\r\nThen shall the Land of Albion\r\nTurne to confusion,\r\n                     As sometime it befell.\r\n\r\nOra pro Anglia Sancta Maria, quod Thomas Cantuaria. <2>\r\n\r\nSweet Jesus, heaven\u2019s King,\r\nFair and best of all thing,\r\nYou bring us out of this mourning,\r\nTo come to thee at our ending!\r\n\r\n\r\nNotes to Chaucer\u2019s Prophecy.\r\n\r\n\r\n1. 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Cardinality equals row count, so every value is unique and entropy_ratio is 1.0 \u2014 the long_tail alert simply reflects this tiny, fully-distinct sample. There is nothing to aggregate on here yet.","role":"label","scope":"column","target":"title","treatment":"Keep as a per-record label; too few rows to model, join on it if enriching with work-level metadata."},{"confidence":"low","critiques":[],"evidence_keys":["n","n_unique","null_rate","stats.cardinality","stats.entropy","stats.top_rate","stats.top_value","top_values","alerts"],"model":"anthropic:claude-opus-4-7","narrative":"The column records the author attributed to each row, with only 2 values across 2 records: 'Geoffrey Chaucer' and 'Anonymous', each appearing once. Entropy is maximal (1.0) because the two records split evenly, but with n=2 any 'long_tail' signal is essentially an artifact of the tiny sample. There is nothing to generalize from here until more rows arrive.","role":"metadata","scope":"column","target":"author","treatment":"Retain as-is; sample too small for encoding decisions until more data is collected."},{"confidence":"high","critiques":[],"evidence_keys":["n","n_unique","stats.min","stats.max","stats.mean","stats.std","null_rate","alerts"],"model":"anthropic:claude-opus-4-7","narrative":"The column 'year' holds a single constant value of 1400 across both rows, with zero variance and no nulls. With n_unique=1 and std=0, it carries no information for modelling. Worth checking whether the dataset was filtered to a single year or whether upstream ingestion collapsed the field.","role":"metadata","scope":"column","target":"year","treatment":"Drop before modelling; constant value provides no signal."},{"confidence":"high","critiques":[],"evidence_keys":["n","n_unique","stats.cardinality","stats.entropy","stats.top_rate","stats.top_value","null_rate"],"model":"anthropic:claude-opus-4-7","narrative":"The column holds a single date-range label \"1325-1500\" applied to all 2 rows, so it appears to be a period or era tag attached to every record. With cardinality 1 and entropy 0, it carries no discriminative information in this slice.","role":"metadata","scope":"column","target":"period","treatment":"Drop; constant value provides no signal."},{"confidence":"low","critiques":[],"evidence_keys":["n","n_unique","stats.min","stats.max","stats.mean","stats.median","stats.std","null_rate"],"model":"anthropic:claude-opus-4-7","narrative":"Numeric column capturing a word count, but with only n=2 rows and 2 unique values (40372 and 282822) it offers essentially no distributional signal. The mean of 161597 sits exactly at the median with std 171438, reflecting just two widely separated points rather than a meaningful spread.","role":"feature","scope":"column","target":"word_count","treatment":"Insufficient rows to model; collect more data before using as a feature."}],"providers":["anthropic:claude-opus-4-7"],"total_usage":{"completion_tokens":1075,"prompt_tokens":3266,"total_tokens":4341}},"language_counts":{},"meta":{"generated_at":"2026-05-01T18:07:34+00:00","mode":"full","row_count":2,"sampled_rows":2,"seed":42,"source":"/home/coolhand/servers/diachronica/corpus/historical-corpora/meg-c/middle_english_texts.jsonl"},"notes":[],"saturn_version":"0.2.0","schema":{"author":"categorical","period":"categorical","text":"categorical","title":"categorical","word_count":"numeric","year":"numeric"}}