The workes of Geffray Chaucer newlye printed, wyth dyuers workes whych were neuer in print before: as in the table more playnly doth appere. Cum priuilegio ad imprimendum solum.

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¶The Caunter∣bury tales.

The Prologues.

WHen that Apryll wyth hys shoures sote The drought of Marche had perced the rote And bathed euery vayne in suche lycoure Of whych vertue, engen∣dred is the floure When zephirus eke wyth hys sote breth Enspyred hath euery holte and heth The tendre croppes, and the yong sonne Hath in the Ram halfe hys course yronne And smale foules maken melodye That slepen al nyght with open eye So prycketh hem nature in her courage Than longen folke to go on pylgrymage And palmers to seken straunge strondes To serue halowes couth in sondry londes And specially fro euery shyres ende Of Englonde to Caunterbury they wende The holy blysfull martyr for to seke That hem hath holpen, when they were seke.

IT befell that season on a day In Southwarke at the taberde as I lay Redy to go in my pylgrymage To Caunterbury with deuoute courage That nyght was come into that hostelry Well nyne and twenty in a company Of sondry folke by auenture yfall In felyshyp, and pylgrymes were they all That towarde Caunterbury wolde ryde The chambres and stables weren wyde And well weren they eased at the best And shortly whan the sonne was at rest So had I spoken with hem euerychone That I was of her felyshyp anone And made forwarde early for to ryse To take our way there as I you deuyse But netheles, whyle I haue tyme and space Or that I ferther in this tale pace Me thynke it accordaunt to reason To tell you all the condycyon Of eche of hem so as it semed me And whyche they were, and of what degre And eke in what araye that they were in And at a knyght then wyll I fyrst begyn.

¶The knyght. i.

A knyght there was, & that a worthy man That fro the tyme that he fyrst began To ryden out, he loued cheualrye Trouth, honoure, fredom, and curtesye Full worthy was he in hys lordes warre And therto had he rydden no man farre As well in christendome as in Hethynesse And euer had honoure for hys worthynesse At Alysaundre he was, when it was won Full ofte tyme he had the dourde begon Abouen all nations in Pruce In Lettowe had he rydden and in Luce No christen man so ofte of hys degre In Garnade at the syege had he be At Algezer, and rydden in Belmarye At Leyes was he, and also at Satalye When they were wonne, and in the great see At many a noble armye had he be At mortall battaylles had he bene fyftene And foughten for our fayth at Tramyssene In lystes thries, and aye slayne hys fo Thys ylke worthy knyght had ben also Somtyme wyth the lorde of Palathye Ayenst another hethen in Turkye And euermore he had a souerayne pryse And though he was worthy he was wyse And of hys porte as meke as is a mayde He neuer yet no vylanye ne sayde In all hys lyfe, vnto no maner wyght He was a very perfyte gentyll knyght For to tell you of hys aray Hys horse were good, but he was nothynge gay Of fustyan he wered a gyppon All besmottred wyth hys haubergion For he was late come fro hys vyage And wente for to done hys pylgrimage.

¶The Squyer. ij.

Wyth him there was his sonne a yōgesquyre A louer and a lusty bachelere With his lockes crul as they were layd in presse Of twenty yere of age he was I gesse Of hys stature he was of euen length And wonderly delyuer, and of great strength And he had be somtyme in chyuauchye In Flaundres, in Artoys, and in Pycardye And borne hym well, as of so lytell space In hope to stande in hys ladyes grace

Enbrouded was he, as it weren a mede All full of freshe floures, whyte and rede Syngynge he was, or floytynge all the daye He was freshe as is the moneth of Maye Short was hys gowne, w^t sleues longe & wyde Well coude he sytte on a horse, and fayne ryde He coude songes make, and well endyte Iuste and eke daunce, portray and well wryte So hote he loued, that by nyghter tale He slept nomore then doth the nyghtyngale Curteys he was, lowly and seruysable And kerft before hys father at the table.

¶The Squyers yoman. iij.

A Yoman had he and seruauntes no mo At that tyme, for hym lyst to ryde so And he was clad in cote and hode of grene A shefe of pecocke arowes bryght and sheue Vnder hys belt he barelfull thryftely Well coude he dresse hys tackle yomanly Hys arowes drouped not wyth fethers lowe And in hys hande he bare a myghtye bowe A not heed had he, wyth a browne vysage Of wodde crafte well couth he all the vsage Vpon hys arme he bare a gaye bracer And by hys syde a swearde and a bokeler And on that other syde a gay dagger Harueysed well, and sharpe as poynte of spere A Christofer on hys brest of syluer shene An horne he bare, the baudrycke was of grene A foster was he sothly as I gesse.

¶The Prioresse. iiij.

There was also a Nonne a Prioresse That of her smylynge was symple and coye Her greatest othe was by saynt Loye And she was called dame Eglentyne Full well she songe the seruyce deuyne Entewned in her voycefull semely And Frenche she spake full fetously After the schole of Stratforde at bowe For frenche of Parys was to her vnknowe At meate was she well ytaught wythall She let no morsell fro her lyppes fall Ne wete her fyngers in her sauce depe Well couth she cary a morsell and well kepe That no drop ne fell vpon her brest In curtesye was set full moche her lest Her ouerlyp wyped she so clene That in her cup was no ferthynge sene Of grece, when she dronken had her draught Full semely after her meate she taught And sykerly she was of great dysporte And full pleasaunt, and amyable of porte And payned her to counterfete chere Of courte, and to be statelythe of manere And to bene holden dygne of reuerence. But for to speake of her conscience She was so charitable and so pytous She wolde wepe yf that she sawe a mous Caught in a trappe, yf it were deed or bledde Of smale houndes had she that she fedde Wyth roste fleshe, mylke, or wastell breed But sore wepte she yf any of hem were deed Or yf men smote hem wyth a yarde smerte And all was conscience and tender herte Full semely her wymple pynched was Her nose tretes, her eyen gray as glas Her mouth smale, and therto softe and reed But sekerly she had a fayre forheed It was almost a spanbroede I trowe For hardely she was not vnder growe Full fetyse was her cloke as I was ware Of smale corall about her arme she bare A payre of hedes, gauded all wyth grene And theron honge a broche of golde full shene On whych ther was fyrst wrytten a crowned. A And after that (Amor vineit omnia) Another Nonne wyth her hath she That was her chapeleyn, and preestes thre.

¶The Monke. v.

A Monke there was fayre for the maystry An out ryder, that loued venery A manly man to bene an abbot able Full many a deynte horse had he in stable And when he rode men myght hys brydle here Gyngelynge in a whystlynge wynde as clere And eke as loude, as doth the chapell bell There as thys lorde way keper of the cell The rule of saynt Maure and of saynt Benet Because it was olde and somdele streyt Thys ylke monke let olde thynges pace And helde after the newe worlde the space He yaue not of the texte a pulled henne

That sayeth, that hunters be not holy men Ne that a monke when he is rechelesse Is lykened to a fyshe that is waterlesse Thys is to saye, a monke out of hys cloystre Thys ylke texte helde he not worth an oystre And I saye hys opinion was good Wherto shulde he study, & make him selfe wood Vpon a boke alwaye in cloystre to powre Or swynke wyth hys handes, or labowre As Austyn byd, how shulde the worlde be serued Let Austyne haue hys swynke to hym reserued Therfore he was a prycksoure a ryght Greyhoūdes he had as swyft as foule of flyght Of pryckynge and of huntynge for the hare was all hys lust, for no cost wolde he spare I sawe hys sleues pursled at the hande wyth Grice, and that the fynest in a lande And for to fast hys hoode vnder the chynne He had of golde wrought a curious pynne A loue knot in the greater ende there was Hys heed was balde, and shone as any glas And eke hys face, as he had bene anoynte He was a lorde full fatte and in good poynte Hys eyen slepe, and rollynge in hys heed That stemed as a furneys of a leed Hys bootes sowple, hys horse in great estate Nowe certaynly he was a fayre prelate He was not pale as a forpyned ghost A fatte swane loued he best of any rost Hys palfray was as browne as is a very

¶The Frere. vi.

A Frere there was a wanton and a mery A lymytour, a full solempne man In all the ordres foure is none that can So moche of daliaunce and fayre langage He had made full many a mariage Of yonge women at hys owne cost Vntyll hys order he was a noble post Full welbyloued and famylyer was he wyth frankeleyns ouer all in hys countre And wyth worthy women of the toun For he had power of confessyoun As he sayd hymselfe, more then a curate For of hys ordre he was lycenciate Full swetely herde he confessyon And pleasaunt was hys absolucyon He was an easye man to pyue penaunce There as he wyst to haue a good pytaunce For vnto a poore ordre for to gyue Is sygne that a man is well yshryue For yf he gaue, he durst make auaunt He wyst that a man was repentaunt For many a man is so harde of herte That he maye not wepe though hym smerte Therfore in stede of wepynge and prayres Men mote gyue syluer to the poore freres Hys typpet was aye fassed full of knyues And pynnes, for to gyue fayre wyues And certaynly he had a mery note well coude he synge and playen on a rote Of yeddynge he bare vtterly the pryce Hys necke was whyte as the floure delyce Therto stronge he was as a champioun And knewe the tauernes well in euery toun And euery hosteler and tapster Bet then a lazer or a begger For vnto suche a worthye man as he Accordeth nought, as by hys faculte To haue wyth lazers suche acquayntaunce It is not honest, it maye not auaunce For to deale wyth suche porayle But all wyth ryche, and sellers of vytayle And ouer all there as profyte shulde aryse Curteys he was, and lowly of seruyse There has no man no where so vertuous He was the best begger in hys hous And gaue a certayne ferme for the graunte None of hys brethren came in hys haunte For though a wydowe had but a shoo (So pleasaunt was hys In principio) Yet wolde he haue a ferthynge er he wente Hys purchace was better then hys rente And rage he couth as it were a whelpe In loue dayes there coude he mykell helpe For there he was not lyke o cloystrere wyth a threde bare cope, as a poore frere But he was lyke a mayster or a pope Of double worstede was hys semy cope So rounded was as a bell out of presse Somwhat he lysped for hys wantonnesse To make hys Englyshe swete vpon hys tonge And in harpynge, when he had songe Hys eyen twynkeled in hys heed aryght As done the starres in a frosty nyght Thys worthye frere was called Huberd••

¶The Marchaunt. vij.

A marchaunt was there wyth a longe berde In motley, on hygh on hys horse he sat Vpon hys heade a Flaundres beuer hat Hys botes clasped fayre and ferously Hys reasons he spake full solempnely Shewynge alway the encrease of his wynnyng He wolde the See were kepte for any thynge Betwyxe Myddelborough and Orewell Well coude he in eschaunge sell Thys worthy man full well hys wyt byset There wyst no wyght that he was in det So stately was he of hys gouernaunce Wyth hys bargayns, and wyth hys cheuysaūce Forsoth he was a worthy man wythall But sothly to sayne, I not what men hym call.

¶The clerke of Oxenforde. viij.

A clerke there was of Oxenforde also That vnto logyke had longe ygo As leane was hys horse as a rake And he was nothynge fatte I vndertake But loked holowe, and therto soberly Full thredebar•• was hys ouercourtpy For he had yet getten hym no benefyce Ne was nought worthy to haue none offyce For hym was leuer to haue at hys beddes heed Twenty bookes, cladde wyth blacke or reed Of Aristotle, and of hys philosophie Then robes ryche, or fyddell or gaye sa••••ry But all be that he was a phylosophre Yet had he but a lytle golde in cofre But all that he myght of hys frendes hente On bookes and on learnynge he it spente And besely gan for the soules praye Of hem that helpen hym to scholaye Of studye toke he moste cure and hede Not a worde spake he more then nede And that was sayd in fourme and reuerence And shorte and quycke, and of hye sentence Sownyng in morall vertue was hys speche And gladly wolde lerne, and gladly teche

¶The sergiaunte at lawe. ix.

A sergiaunt of lawe, ware and wyse That often had bene at the peruyst That was also full ryche of excellence Dyscrete he was, and of great reuerence He semed suche, hys wordes were so wyse Iustyce he was full often in assyse By patent, and by playne commyssyoun For hys science, and hys hye renoun Of fees and robes had he many one So great a purchasour was no where none All was fee symple to hym in effecte Hys purchasynge myght not be to hym suspecte Nowhere so besy a man as he there nas And yet he semed besyer then he was In termes had he case and domes all That fro the tyme of kynge Wylliam was fall Therto he could endyte, and maken a thynge There coude no wyght pynche at hys wrytynge And euery statute coude he playne by rote He rode but homely in a medley cote Gyrte wyth a seynt of syl••••, with barres smale Of hys arraye, tell I no lenger tale.

¶The Frankeleyn. x.

A Frankeleyn there was in hys companye Whyte was hys berde as is the deysye And of hys complexion he was sanguyne Well loued he by the morowe a soppe in wyne To lyuen in delyte was euer hys wonne For he was Epycures owne sonne That helde opinion, that playne delyte Was very felicitye perfyte An housholder, and that a great was he Saynt Iulian he was in hys countre Hys breed, hys ale, was alwaye after one A better byended man was no where none Wythout bake meate was neuer hys house Of fyshe and fleshe, and that so plenteous It shewed in hys house of meate and drynke Of all deyntes that men coude thynke After the sondrye seasons of the yere So chaunged he hys meate, and hys suppere Full many afa••••e par••ryche had he in mewe And many a dreme, and many a l••••e in stewe Wo was hys coke, but hys ••••uce were Poynante and sharpe, and redy all hys gere Hys table dor••naunt in hys hall alwaye Stode redy couered all the longe daye At cessions there was he lorde and syre Full ofte tyme he was knyght of the shyre An anelace and a gepsere all of sylke Hynge at hys gyrdell, whyte as morowe mylke A shyryfe had he bene, and a countour Was nowhere suche a worthy vauesour.

¶The Haberdassher. xi.

An Haberdassher there was and a carpenter A webbe, a dyer, and a tapyser All they were yclothed in o lyuere Of a solempne and a great fraternyte Full fresshe and newe her geare ipyked was Her knyues ychaped nere not wyth bras But all with syluer wrought ful clene and wele Her gyrdels and her pouches euerydele Wel semed eueryche of hem a fayre burgeys To sytten at a yelde hal, on the hye deys Eueryche for the wysdome that he can Was shape lyche for to ben an alderman For catayle had they ryght ynough and rent And eke her wyues wolde it well assent And els certayne they were to blame It is full fayre to ben yeleped madame And gon to vigylles al before And haue a mantel royall yche ybore.

¶The Coke. xii.

A Coke they had wyth hem for the nones To boyle the chykens and the mary bones And pouder merchaunt, tarte, and galyngale Well coude he knowe a draught of London ale He couthe rosthe, sethe, boy••e, and frye Make mor••reys, and wel bake a pye But great harme was it, as it thought me That on hys shynne a mormal had he And blynke manger made he wyth the beste.

¶The Shypman. xiij.

A Shipman was ther, wonnyng fer by west For aught I wete, he was of Detchemouthe He rode vpon a rowney, as he couthe In a gowne of faldyng to the kne A dagger hangyng by a lace had he Aboute hys necke, vnder hys arme downe The hote sommer had made his hew a browne And certayne he was a good felawe Full many a draught of wyne had he drawe From Burdeux ward, whiles y^e chapmen slepe Of nyce conscience toke he no kepe If that he faught, and had the hygher honde By water he sent hem home to euery londe But of hys crafte, to recken wel hys tydes Hys streames and his daungers hym besydes Hys herbrough, hys moone, & hys lodemanage There was none suche from Hul to Cartage Hardy he was, and wyse to vndertake Wyth many a tempest had hys berde be shake He knewe all the hauens as there were Fro Scotlande to the Cape de fenestere And euery creke in Britayne and in Spayne Hys barge was called the Maudelayne.

¶De doctour of Phisyke. xiiij.

Wyth vs there was a doctour of phisyke In thys worlde ne was there none hym lyke To speke of phisyke, and of surgerye For he was grounded in Astronomye He kepte hys pacyent a full great del In houres, by hys magyke naturel Wel couthe he fortune the assendent Of hys ymage for hys pacyent He knewe the cause of euery maladye Were it of colde, hete, moyste, or drie And wherof engendred what humour He was a very perfyte practysour The cause yknowe, and of hys harme the rote A none he gaue to the sycke man his bote Full redy had he hys apotecaries To sende hym dregges and hys lectuaries For eche of hem made other for to wynne Her frendshyp was not newe to begynne Wel knewe he the olde Esculapius And Dioscorides, and eke Ruffus Olde Hippocrates, Haly, and eke Gallen Serapion, Rasis, and also Auicen Auerroys, Damasceue, and Constantyn Bernarde, Gatisden, and Gylbertyn Of hys dyete meserable was he For it was of no superfluyte But of great nourysshynge, and digestyble Hys study was but lytel on the Byble In sangwyne and in perce he clad was al Lyned wyth Taffata, and wyth sendal And yet he was but easy of dispence He kepte that he wanne in tyme of pestylence For golde in Physyke is a cordyal Therfore he loued golde in specyal.

¶The wyfe of Bathe .xv.

A good wyfe there was besyde Bathe But she was somdel dese, and that was scathe

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Of clothe makynge she had suche an haunte She passed hem of Ipre, or of Gaunte In all the parysshe wyfe ne was there none That to the offrynge before her shulde gone And yf there dyd, certayn ryght wrothe was she That she was al out of charite Her kerchers ful fyne were of grounde I durst swere they wayden ten pounde That on a Sonday were vpon her heed Her hosen were of fyne scarlet reed Full strayte ystrayned, and shoesful newe Bolde was her face, and reed was her hewe She was a worthy woman al her lyue Husbandes at the churche dore had she fyue Withouten other company in youthe But therof nedeth not to speke as nouthe And thryse had she ben at Hierusalem She had passed many a stronge streme At Rome had she ben, and at Boloyne In Galys at saynt Iames, and at Coloyne She couth moche of wandrynge by the waye Gat tothed was she sothely for to saye Vpon an ambler easely she sat Ywympled well, and on her heed an hat As brode as is a bokeler or a targe A foot mantel aboute her hyppes large And on her fete a payre of spurres sharpe In felyshyp well couth she laughe and carpe Of remedyes of loue she coude perchaunce For the couth of that arte the olde daunce.

¶The Person. xvi

A Good man there was of relygyoun And was a poore person of a toun But riche he was of holye thought and werke He was also a lerned man, & a clerke That Christes gospels truely wolde preche Hys parissheus deuoutly wolde he teche Benygne he was and wonder dilygent And in aduersyte full pacyent And suche he was proued ofte sythes Ful lothe were hym to curst for his tythes But rather wolde he yeuen out of doute Vnto hys poore paryssheus aboute Of hys offrynge, and of hys substaunce He couth in lytel thynge haue suffysaunce Wide was hys parisshe, & houses ferre a sondre But he ne lefte neyther for rayn ne thondre In syckenesse ne in myschefe for to vysyte The ferrest in hys parysshe, moche or lyte Vpon hys fete, and in hys hande a staf Thys noble ensample to hys shepe he yaf That fyrst he wrought, and afterwarde taught Out of the gospel he the wordes caught And thys fygure he radde eke therto That yf golde ruste, what shulde yron do For yf a preest be foule, on whom we trust No wonder is a leude man to rust And shame it is, yf a preest take kepe To se a shytten shepherde, and a clene shepe Wel ought a preest ensample for to yeue By hys clennesse, howe hys shepe shulde lyue He sette not hys benefyce to hyre And lette hys shepe acombre in the myre And renne to London to saynt Poules To seken hym a chauntry for soules Or with a brotherhede to be with holde But dwelte at home, and kept wel hys folde So that the wolfe ne made hem not miscarye He was a shepeherde, and not a mercenarye And though he holy were and vertuous He was not to synfull men dispytous Ne of hys speche daungerous ne digne But in hys techyng discrete and benigne To drawen folke to heuen wyth fayrnesse By good ensample, thys was hys besynesse But yf it were any person obstynate Whether he were of hye or lowe estate Hym wolde he shybbe sharply for the nonis A better preest I trowe no where none is He wawed after no pompe ne reuerence Ne maked hym no spyced conscience But Christes lore, and hys Apostels twelue He taught, but fyrst he folowed it hym selue.

¶The Plowman. xvii

With him there was a Plowmā his brother That had yladde of donge many a sother A trewe swynker and a good was he Lyuynge in peace, and parsyte charyte God loued be best with al hys herte At all tymes, thoughe hym gamed or smerte And than hys neyghbours ryght as hym selfe He wolde thresshe, and therto dyke and delfe For Christes sake, for euery poore wyght withouten hyre, yf it lay in hys myght Hys tythes payde he full fayre and well Bothe of hys propre swynke, and of hys catel

In a tabarde he rode, vpon a mare There was also a Reue, and a Myllare A Sompnour, and a Pardoner also A Mansyple, and my selfe, there was no mo.

¶The Myller. xviii.

The Myller was a stoute earle for y^e nones Full bygge he was of brawne, and eke of bones That proued wel, for ouer al there he cam At wrastlyng, he wolde haue away the Ram He was shorte sholdred, a thicke gnarre Ther nas no dore, but he wold heue of the bar Or breke it, at a rennyng wyth hys heed Hys berde as any sowe or fore was reed And therto brode, as it were a spade Vpon the coppe ryght of hys nose he hade A werte, and theron stode a tufte of heeres Reed as the bristels of a sowes eeres Hys nostrels blacke were and wyde A swerde and a bokelet bare he by hys syde Hys mouthe as great was as a furneys He was a iangler and a golyerdeys And that was moste of synne & of harletryse Well couthe he steale corne, and tolde it thryse And yet he had a tombe of golde parde A whyte cote and a blewe hoode weared he A bagge pype wel couthe he blowe and sowne And therwith al brought he vs out of towne.

¶The Manciple. xix.

A gentle Manciple there was of the temple Of whiche al catours myght taken ensemple For to ben wyse, in byeng of vitayle. For whether he payde, or toke by tayle Algate he wayted so in hys asshate That he was aye before, in good estate Nowe is not that of god a full fayre grace That suche a leude mans wyt shall pace The wysedome of an heape of lerned men Of maysters had he mo than thryse ten That were of lawe experte, and curyouse Of whyche there was a doseyn in that house Worthy to ben stewardes of rente and lande Of any lorde that is in Englande To maken hym lyue by hys propre good In honour detlesse, but yf he were woode Or lyue as scarssy as hym lyste desyre And able to helpen al a shyre In any ease that might fallen or happe And yet the Manciple set all her cappe.

¶The Reue. xx.

The Reue was a sclender colerike man Hys berde was shaue as nye as euer he can Hys heere was by his eeres rounde yshorne Hys toppe was docked lyke a preest byforne Full longe were his legges and full lene I lyke a staffe, there was no calfe ysene Wel couth he kepe a garner and a bynne There was non auditour coude on hym wyn Wel wyst he by the drought, and by the rayne The yeldynge of his seed, and of his grayne His lordes shepe, hys neet, and his deyrie His swyne, his hors, his store, and his pultrie Were hooly in his Reuys gouernynge And by his couenaunt yaue he rekenynge Sithe hys lorde was twenty yere of age There coude no man brynge hym in a rerage There nas baylly, heerd, ne none other hyne That he ne knewe hys sleyght and his couyne They were a drad of hym as of the dethe Hys dwellynge was full fayre vpon an hethe With grene trees shadowed was his place He couthe better than hys lorde purchace Full riche he was astored pryuely His lorde he coude wel please subtylly To yeue and leue hym of hys owne good And haue a thanke, and yet a cote and hode In youthe he had lerned a good mystere He was a well good wryght, a carpentere This Reue sat vpon a ryght good slot That was al pomel grey, and hyght Scot A longe surcote of perce vpon he hade And by hys syde he bare a rusty blade Of Norfolke was this Reue, of which I tel Besyde a towne, men clepen it Baldeswel Tucked he was, as is a frere aboute And euer he rode hynderest of the route.

¶The Sompnour. xxi.

A Sompnour was there wyth vs in y^t place That had a fyre redde cherubyns face For sausfleme he was, with eyen narowe Al hote he was, and lecherous as a sparowe With skaled browes blacke, and pylled berde Of hys vysage chyldren were sore aferde

There nas quicksyluer, lytarge, ne brymstone Borace, ceruse, ne oyle of tarter none Ne oyntement that wolde clense or byte That hym myght helpe of hys whelkes white Ne of his knobbes syttynge on hys chekes Wel loued he garlyke, onyons, and eke lekes And for to drynke stronge wyne reed as blood Then wold he speke and crye as he were wood And whan he had wel ydronke the wyne Than wolde he speke no worde but latyne A fewe termes had he, two or thre That he had lerned out of some degre No wonder is, he herde it al the daye And ye knowen wel eke howe that a iaye Can clepe what, as wel as can the pope But who so couthe in other thyng hym grope Than had he spent al hys philosophye (A questio quid iuris) wolde he crye He was a gentle harlot and a kynde A better felawe shulde a man nat fynde He wolde suffre for a quarte of wyne A good felawe to haue hys concubyne A twelue monthe, and excuse hym at the ful Ful priuely eke a synche couthe he pul And yf he fonde o where a good felawe He wolde teche hym to haue none awe In suche case, of the archedekyns curse But yf mans soule were in hys purse For in hys purse he shulde ypunyshed be Purse is the archedekeus hel, sayd he But wel I wote he lyed ryght in dede Of cursyng ought eche synful man drede For cursyng wol slee, ryght as assoylyng saueth And also ware hym of a Significauit In daunger had he at hys owne gyfe The yonge gyrles of the diocyse And knew her counsayle, and was of her reed A garlonde had he set vpon hys heed As great as it were for an alestake A buckeler had he maked hym of a cake.

¶The Pardoner. xxii.

Wyth hym there rode a gentle Pardonere Of Rounceual, hys frende and hys compere That streight was come fro the court of Rome Ful loude songe he, come hyther loue tome Thys Sompnour bare hym a styffe bourdoun was neuer trompe of halfe so great a soun This Pardoner had heere as yelowe as were But smothe it hynge, as doth a stryke of flexe By ounces hynge hys lockes that he had And therwith he his sholders ouersprad But thynne it lay by culpons one and one But hode for iolyte weared he none For it was trussed vp in hys walet Hym thought he rode al the newe iet Dissheuylde saue his cappe he rode al bare Suche glaryng eyen had he as an hare A vernacle had he sowed vpon hys cappe Hys wallet beforne hym in hys lappe Brette ful of pardone come from Rome al hote A voyce he had as smale as hath a gote No berde had he, ne neuer shulde haue As smoth it was as it were newe shaue I trowe he were a geldyng or a mare But of hys crafte fro Berwyke vnto ware Ne was there suche another pardonere For in hys male had he a pyllowe here Whyche as he sayd, was our ladyes veyle He sayd he had a gobbet of the seyle That saynt Peter had whan that he went Vpon the see tyl Iesu Chryst hym hent He had a crosse of laten ful of stones And in a glasse he had pygges bones But with these relykes whan that he fonde A poore person dwellyng vplonde Vpon a day he gate hym more money Than that person gate in monthes twey And thus wyth fayned flateryng and ••apes He made the person and the people hys apes But trewly to tellen at the laste He was in churche a noble ecclesyast Wel couthe he rede a lesson or a storie But alderbest he sange an oftytorie For wel he wyst, whan that songe was songe He muste preche, and wel afyle hys tonge To wynne syluer as he wel coude Therfore he songe so meryly and loude.

Nowe haue I tolde you sothly in a clause The state, the aray, eche nōbre, and eke the cause Why that assembled was this company In Suthwerke at thys gentyl hostelry That hyght the Tabarde fast by the Belle But nowe is tyme to you for to telle Howe that we baren vs that ylke nyght Whan we weren in that hostry a lyght And after wol I tel of our vyage And al the remenaunt of our pylgrymage

But fyrste I praye you of your curtely That ye ne arette it nat my folly Thouhg that I playnly speke in this matere To tellen you her wordes and eke her chere Ne though I speke her wordes properly For thys ye knowen as wel as I Who shal tellen a tale after a manne He mote reherce as nye as euer he canne Euerych worde, yf it be in hys charge Al speke he neuer so rudely ne large Or els he mote tellen hys tale vntrewe Or feyne thyng is, or fynde wordes newe He may nat spare altho he were hys brother He mote as wel saye o worde as another Chryst spake hym selfe full brode in holy writte And wel I wotte no vyllayne is itte Eke Plato sayth, who so can hym rede The wordes mote ben cosyn to the dede Also I pray you for yeue it me A! haue I nat sette folke in her degree Here in thys tale as they shulde stande My wytte is shorte ye may wel vnderstande.

GReat chere made our host vs euerychon And to the supper sette he vs anon And serued vs wyth vitayle at the best Strong was the wyne, and wel drynke vs lest A semely man our host was wyth all For to ben a marshal in a lordes hall A large man he was with eyen stepe A fayrer burgeys is there none in chepe Bolde of hys speche, wyse and wel ytaught And of manhode hym lacked ryght naught Eke therto he was a right mery man And after supper playen he began And spake of myrthe among other thynges Whan that we had made our rekenynges And sayd thus, nowe lordynges trewly Ye ben to me welcome ryght hertely For by my trouthe yf I shuld nat lye A sawe nat thys yere so mery a company Atones, in this herborowe as is nowe Fayne wolde I don you myrth & I wyst howe And of a myrthe I am ryght nowe bethought To done you ease, and it shall coste nought Ye gone to Canterbury god mote you spede The blysful martyr quyte you your mede And wel I wote as ye gone by the way Ye shapen you to talken and to play For trewly comforte ne myrthe is there none To ryden by the waye as dombe as a stone And therfore wolde I maken you disporte As I sayd erst, and done you some comforte And yf you lyke al by one assent For to stonden at my iugement And for to worchen as I shall you say To morowe whan we ryden on the way Nowe be my fathers soule that is deed But ye be mery I wol gyue you myne heed Holde vp your handes without more speche Our counsayle was nat longe for to seche Vs thought it was nat worth to make it wyse And graunted hym without more auyse And badde hym say hys verdit as hym lest Lordinges ({quod} he) nowe herkene for the best But take it nat I praye you in disdayne Thys is the poynt to speke it platte & playne That eche of you to shorte with others way In this vyage, shall tel tales tway To Canterbery warde I meane it so And homwardes he shal tel tales other two Of auentures whilom that han befal And whiche of you that beareth hym best of al That is to sayne, that tellen in thys case Tales of best sentence and most solace Shall haue a supper at our alder cost Here in thys place syttyng by thys post Whan that we commen ayen from Canterbery And for to make you the more mery I wol my seluen goodly with you ryde Ryght at myne owne coste and be your gyde And who that wol my iugement withsay Shall paye al that we spende by the way And yf ye vouchsafe that it be so Telle me anon wythout wordes mo And I woll early shape me therfore Thys thyng was graunted & our othes swore Wyth full gladde herte, and prayden hym also That he wolde vouchsafe for to do so And that he wolde ben our gouernour And of our tales iuge and reportour And sette a supper at a certayne prise And we wollen ben demed at hys deuyse In hye and lowe, and thus by one assent We ben accorded to the iugement And ther vpon the wyne was fette anone We dronken, and to rest wente ylke one Withouten any lenger taryeng A morowe whan they gan to spryng Vp rose our host, and was our alder cocke

And gadered vs al in a flocke And forthe we ryden a lytel more than paas Vnto the wateryng of saynt Thomas And there our host began hys horse arest And sayd: lordes herkene yf you lest Ye wote your forwarde, and I it recorde If euesonge and morowe songe acorde Lette se nowe who shall tell the fyrst tale As euer I mote drynke wyne or ale Who so is rebel to my iugement Shall paye for all that by the way is spent Nowe draweth cutte or that ye farther twyn The whiche that hath the shortest shal begyn.

Sir knyght ({quod} he) my maister and my lorde Nowe draweth cutte, for that is myne acorde Cometh nere ({quod} he) my lady prioresse And ye sir clerke, lette be your shamefastnesse Ne studyeth nat, lay hande therto euery man Anone to drawe euery wyght began And shortely for to tellen as it was Were it by auenture, or by shorter caas The sothe is thys, the cutte fyll to the knyght Of which ful blyth and glad was euery wyght And tellen he must hys tale as it was reason By forwarde, and by composytion As ye han herde, what nedeth wordes mo And whan thys good man sawe y^t it was so As he that wyse was and obedyent To kepen hys forwarde by hys free assent He sayd, sithen I shall begyn the game What welcome cutte a goddeshame Nowe let vs ryde, and herkeneth what I say And with that worde we ryden forth our way And he began wyth ryght a mery chere Hys tale anone, ryght as ye shal here.

¶Thus ende the prologues of the Caunterbury tales, and here foloweth the knyghtes tale.

[illustration]

¶Here begynneth the Knyghtes tale.

WHylom, as olde stories tellen vs There was a duke that hyght Theseus Of Athenes he was lorde & gouernour And in hys tyme suche a conquerour That greater was non vnder the son Full many a riche countrey had he won What with his wysedom, and his cheualry He conquered all the reigne of Feminy That whylom was icleped Cythea And wedded the quene Ipolyta & brought her home w^t him, in to his contre Wyth mykell glory and solempnyte And eke her yonge suster Emely. And thus with victory and melody Let I thys worthy duke to Athenes ryde And all hys host, in armes hym be syde And certes, yf it nere to longe to here I wolde haue tolde fully the manere Howe wonnen was the reygne of Feminy By Theseus, and by his cheualry And of the great batayle for the nones Betwene Athenes and Amasones And howe beseged was Ipolyta The yonge hardy quene of Cythea And of the feest, y^t was at her weddynge And of the tempest at her home comyng But al y^t thyng, I mote as nowe forbere I haue god wotte, a large felde to ere And weked ben the oxen in the plowe The remenaunt of my tale is long ynowe I wyll nat letten eke, non of thys rout Let euery felowe tell hys tale about And let se nowe, who shall the supper wyn And there I lefte, I wyll agayne begyn.

Thys duke, of whom I make mencyoune Whan he was come, almost to the towne In all hys wele and hys most pride He was ware, as he cast hys eye asyde where that there kneled in the hyghe wey A company of ladys, twey and twey Eche after other, cladde in clothes blake But such a crye and such a wo they make

That in thys worlde, nys creature lyuinge That euer herde suche a waymentynge And of thys crye, they nolde neuer stynten Tyll they the reynes of hys bridell henten What folke be ye, y^t at myn home cōmyng Perturben so my feest with cryeng Quod Theseus? Haue ye so great enuy Of myne honour, that thus cōplayne & cry? Or who hath you mysbode, or offended? Nowe telleth me, yf it may be amended. And why that ye be clothed thus in blake? The oldest lady of them all spake Whan she had swowned with adeedly chere That it was ruthe for to se and here She sayd lorde, to whom fortune hath yeue Vyctory, and as a conquerour to lyue Nought greueth vs your glory and honour But we beseke you of mercy and socour And haue mercy on our wo and distresse Some drope of pyte, through thy gētylnesse Vpon vs wretched wymen, let thou fall For certes lorde, there nys none of vs all That she ne hath be a duchesse or a quene Nowe be we caytyses, as it is well isene Thanked be fortune, and her false whele That non estate assureth for to be wele. Now certes lorde, to abyde your presence Here in this temple of the goddesse Clemēce We haue be waytyng all this fourtenyght Helpe vs lorde, sythe it lyeth in thy myght.

I Wretche, that wepe and wayle thus whylom wyfe to kyng Campaneus That starfe at thebes, cursed be y^e day And all we that ben in thys aray And maken all thys lamentacyon We losten all our husbondes at that town whyle that the syege there aboute laye And yet the olde Creon (wel awaye) That lorde is nowe of Thebes cyte Fulfilled of yre and of iniquite He for dispyte, and for hys tyranny To done the deed bodyes vyllanye Of all our lordes, whiche that ben slawe Hath all the bodyes on an heape ydrawe And wyll nat suffre hem, by none assent Neyther to be buryed, ne to be brent But maketh houndes to eate hem in dyspyte And w^t that worde, wythout more respyte They fallen grosly, and cryen pytously Haue on vs wretched wymen some mercy And let our sorowe synke in thyn hert This gentle duke down frō his hors stert Wyth hert pytous, whā he herde hem speke Hym thought that hys herte wolde breke Whan he sawe hem so pytous and so mate That whylom were of so great astate And in hys armes, he hem all vp hent And hem comforted in full good entent And swore hys othe, as he was true Knyght He wolde don so ferforthly hys myght Vpon the tyrante Creon hem to wreake That al the people of Grece shulde speake Howe Creon was of Theseus yserued As he that had his dethe full well deserued And ryght anon wythouten more abode His baner he displayed, and forthe rode To Thebes warde, and all hys hoost besyde No nere Athenes nolde he go ne ryde Ne take hys ease fully halfe a day But onward on hys way that nyght he lay And sent anone Ipolita the quene And Emely her yonge syster shene Vnto the towne of Athenes to dwell And forth he rydeth, ther nys no more to tell.

THe red statu of Mars w^t spere & targe So shyneth in hys whyte baner large That all the feldes glyttren vp & doun And by hys baner, borne is hys penon Of golde ful rych, in which there was ybete The mynotaure, that he wan in C••rte Thus rydeth this duke, this conquerour And in his hoste of chyualry the flour Tyl that he came to Thebes, and alyght Fayre in a felde, ther as he thought to fyght But shortly for to speken of thys thyng With Creon, whiche was of Thebes Kyng He faught, & slewe hym manly as a Knyght In playne batayle, & put hys folke to flyght And at a saute he wan the cyte after And rente adowne wall, sparre, and rafter And to the ladyes, he restored agayn The bodyes of her husbandes y^t were slayn To done obsequies, as tho was the gyse But it were al to longe for to deuyse The great clamour, and the weymentyng That the ladyes made at the brennyng Of the bodyes, and the great honour That Theseus, the noble conquerour Doth to y^e ladies, whan they from him went But shortly to tellen is myne entent Whan y^t this worthy duke, this Theseus Hath Creon slayne, and wan Thebes thus

Styl in the felde he toke al nyght hys rest And dyd with al the countre as hym lest To ransake in the taas of bodyes dede (Hem for to strype of harneys and of wede) The pyllours dyd her busynesse and cure After the batayle and the discomfyture. And so befell, that in the taas they founde Through gyrt w^t many a greuous wounde Two yonge knyghtes lyeng by and by Bothe in armes same, wrought full richely Of whiche two, Arcyte hyght that one And that other hyght Palamon Not fully quycke, ne fully deed they were But by her cote armours, and by her gere The haraudes knewe hem best in specyall As the that weren of the bloode ryall Of Thebes, and of systren two yborne Out of the taas y^t pyllours hath hem torne And han hem caryed softe in to the tent Of Theseus, and he ful sone hem sent To Athenes, to dwellen there in prison Perpetuall, he nolde hem not raunson And whan thys worthy duke had thus idon He toke his hoost, and home he gothe anon With laurer crowned, as a conquerour And there he lyueth in ioye and honour Terme of his lyfe, what nedeth wordes mo? And in a towne, in anguysse and in wo Dwelleth Palamon, and hys felowe Arcyte For euermore, ther may no gold hem quyte.

THus passeth yere by yere, and day by day Til it fel ones in a morowe of May That Emely, y^t fayrer was to sene Than is the lylly, vpon the stalke grene And fresher than May, with floures newe For with the rose colour strofe her hewe I not whiche was the fayrer of hem two. Er it was day, as was her won to do She was arysen, and all redy dyght For May wol haue no slogardy a nyght The season pricketh euery gentell herte And maketh it out of her slepe sterte And saythe atyse, and do May obseruaunce Thys maketh Emely to haue remēbraūce To don horrour to May, and for to ryse I clothed was she fresshe for to deuyse Her yelowe heare was broyded in a trese Behynde her backe, a yerde longe I gase And in the gardyn at sonne vpryst She walketh vp and downe as herryst She gadreth floures, party whyt and reed To make a subtell garlande for her heed And as an angell, heuenly she songe The great tour, that was so thicke & stronge Whiche of the castell was y^e chefe dungeon Wherin the Knyghtes were in pry••on Of whiche I tolde you, and tell shall Was euyn ioynaunt to the garden wall There as thys Emely had her playeng Bright was the son, & clere the mornynge And Palamon, thys wofull prisoner As was hys won, by leaue of hys gayler Was rysen, & romed in a chambre on hyghe In whiche he all the noble cyte syghe And eke the gardyn, full of braunches grene There as thys fresshe Emely the shene was in her walke, & romed vp and doun This sorowfull prisoner, this Palamon Gothe in hys chambre romyng to and fro And to hym selfe complaynyng of hys wo That he was borne, full ofte sayd alas And so befell by auenture or caas That thrugh a window thick of many a bar Of yren gret, and square as any spar He caste hys eyen vpon Emelia And therwith he blent and cryed, ha. As though he slongen were to the herte And with that crye Arcite anon vp sterte And sayd, Cosyn myne, what eyleth the That arte so pale and deedly for to se? why cryest thou: who hath do the offence? For goddes loue, take all in pacience Our prison, for it may none other be Fortune hath yenen vs thys aduersyte, Some wycked aspect or disposycion Of Saturne, by some constellacion Hath yeuen vs this, altho we had it sworn So stode the heuen, whan y^t we were born we mote endure, thys is short and playn. This Palamon answerde, & sayd agayn: Cosyn forsoth, of thys opinyon Thou hast a vayne ymagynacyon Thys prison caused me nat to crye But I was hurt right now thrugh myne ey Into myne herte, that woll my bane be The fayrnesse of a lady that I se Yonde in the gardyn, comyng to and fro Is cause of all my cryeng and wo I not wher she be woman or goddesse But Venus it is, sothly as I gesse And therwyth all on knees down he fyl And sayd: Venus, yf it be thy wyl You in thys gardyn, thus to transfigure

Beforne me, sorowfull wretched creature Out of thys prison helpe that we may scape And yf our desteny be so ishape By eterne worde, to dyen in pryson Of our lynage haue some compassion That is so lowe ybrought by tyranny. And wyth that worde Arcyte gan espy Where as the lady romed to and fro And wyth that syght her bewte hurt hym so That yf that Palamon were wounded sore Arcyte was hurt as moche as he, or more And with a syghe he sayd pitously The fresshe beutie sleeth me sodenly Of her that rometh in the yonder place And but I haue her mercy and her grace That I may seen her at the leste way I nam but deed, there nis no more to say.

This Palamō, whā he these wordes herd Dispytously he loked, and answerd: Whether sayest thou this in ernest or in play Nay quod Arcite, in ernest by my fay God helpe me so, me lyst full yuell to pley This Palamō gan knyt his browes twey It were ({quod} he) to the no great honour To be false ne for to be traytour To me, that am thy cosen and thy brother I sworne full depe, and eche of vs to other That neuer for to dyen in the payne Tyll that the dethe departe vs twayne Neyther of vs in loue to hyndre other Ne in none other case my leue brother But that thou shuldest truly further me In euery case, as I shulde further the This was thyn othe, and myn also certayn I wote it well, thou darst it not withsayn Thus arte thou of my counsell out of doute And nowe thou woldest falsly ben aboute To loue my lady, whom I loue and serue And euer shall, tyll that myn herte sterue Nowe certes false Arcite thou shalt not so I loued her fyrst, and tolde the my wo As to my counsell, and to my brother sworne To further me, as I haue tolde beforne For whiche thou art thounden, as a knyght To helpen me, yf it lye in thy might Or els arte thou false, I dare well sayne This Arcite full proudly spake agayne. Thou shalt ({quod} he) be rather fals than I And thou arte false I tell the vtterly For paramour I loued her fyrst or thou what wilt thou sayn, thou wist it nat or now Whether she be woman or goddesse Thyne is affection of holynesse And myne is loue, as to a creature For whiche I tolde the myne auenture As to my cosyn, and my brother sworne Suppose that thou louest her byforne Wost thou not well the olde clerkes sawe? That, who shall gyue a louer any lawe? Loue is a gretter lawe by my pan Than maybe yeuen to any erthly man And therfore posityfe lawe, and suche decre Is broken all day for loue in eche degre A man more nedes loue maugre hys herd He may nat fleen it though he shulde be deed All be she mayde, wydowe, or wyfe And eke it is not lykely all thy lyfe To stonden in her grace, nomore shall I For well thou wodst thy selfe verely That thou and I be dampned to prison Perpetuall, vs gayneth no raunson We stryuen, as did the houndes for y^e bone That faughte al day, & yet her part was non Ther cam a cur, while y^t they wer so wroth And bare away the bone from hein bothe And therfore, at kynges court my brother Eche man for hym selfe, there is non other Loue if thou lyst, for I loue and ay shall And sothly lefe brother thys is all Here in thys prison more we endure And eueryche of vs taken hys auenture Gret was the strife betwix hem twey If that I had leyser for to fry But to theffect, It happed on a day To tell it you shortly as I may. A worthy duke that hyght Perithous That felowe was to duke Theseus Syth thylke day y^t they were chyldren lyte Was come to Athenes, hys felow to visyte And for to play, as he was wonte to do For in this worlde he loued no man so And he loued hym as tenderly agayne So well they loued, as olde bokes sayne That whē that one was deed, sothly to tell His felow went & sought hym downe in hell But of that story lyst me not to write Duke Perithous loued well Arcite And had hym know at Thebes yere by yere And fynally at request and prayere Of Peithous, withouten any raunson Duke Theseus let hym out of pryson Frely to you, whither hym lyst ouer all In suche agyfe, as I you tellen shall.

Thys was the forewarde, playnly to endyte Betwyx duke Theseus and hym Arcite That yf so were, that Arcite were yfounde Euer in hys lyfe, by daye, nyght or stounde In any countre of thys duke Theseus And he were caught, it was accorded thus That wyth a swerde he shulde lese hys heed There nas none other remedy ne reed But taketh hys leaue, and homward hym sped Let hym beware, hys necke lyeth to wedde Howe great sorowe suffreth nowe Arcite The death he feleth through hys herte smyte He wepeth, wayleth, and cryeth pyteously To sleen hym selfe he wayteth priuely And sayd, alas the daye that I was borne Nowe is my preson worse then beforne Nowe is me shappen eternally to dwell Not in purgatory, but in hell Alas that euer I knewe Perithous For els had I dwelt wyth Theseus I fetered in hys prison euer mo Then had I be in blysse, and not in wo Onely the syght of her, whom that I serue Though that I neuer her grace maye deserue wolde haue suffysed ryght ynough for me O dere cosyn Palamon (quod he) Thyne is the victory of thys auenture Full blysfull in prison mayst thou endure In prison, Nay certes but in paradyse well hath fortune to the tourned the dyse That hast the syght of her, and I thabsence For possible is, sythnes thou hast her presence And arte a knyght, a worthy man and able That by some case, syn fortune is chaungeable Thou mayst some tyme to thy desyre attayne But I that am exiled, and barayne Of all grace, and in so great dyspeyre That ther nys water, erth, fyre, ne eyre Ne creature, that of hem maked is That maye me heale, or done comforte in thys well ought I sterue in wanhope and dystresse Farwell my lyfe, my lust and my gladnesse Alas, why playnen men so in comune Of purueyaunce of God, or of fortune That yeueth hem full ofte in many a gyse well bette then hem selfe can deuyse Some man desyreth to haue rychesse That cause is of her murdre or sycknesse And some man wolde out of hys prison fayne That in hys house, is of hys meyne slayne Infinite harmes bene in thys matere we wote not what thynge we prayen here we faren as he, that dronke is as a mouse A dronken man wote well, he hath an house But he wote nat, whych the ryght waye thyder And to a dronken man the waye is slyder And certes in thys worlde so faren we we seken fast after felicite But we go wronge ful ofte truly Thus may we saye al, and namely I That wenden, and had a great opinion That yf I myght scape fro prison Th•••• had I bene in ioye and parfyte hele There nowe I am exiled fro my wele Syth that I maye not sene you Emely I nam but deed, there nys no remedy ¶Vpon that other syde Palamon when that he wyst Arcite was gone Such sorowe he maketh, that the great tour Resowned of hys yellynge and clamour The pure fetters on hys shynnes grete were of hys bytter salte teares wete Alas ({quod} he) Arcite cosyn myne Of all our stryfe, god wote the frute is thyne Thou walkest nowe in Thebes at large And of my wo, thou yeuest lytle charge Thou mayst, syth thou hast wisedome & māhed Assemble al the folke of our kynred And make warre so sharpe in thys countre That by some auenture, or by some treate Thou mayst haue her to lady and to wyfe For whom I must nedes lese my lyfe For as by waye of possibilite Syth thou arte at thy large of prison fre And arte a lorde, great is thyne auauntage More then is myne, that sterue here in a cage For I maye wepe and wayle, whyles y^t I lyue wyth all the wo that prison maye me yeue And eke wyth payne, that loue yeueth me also That doubleth al my tourment and my wo Therwyth the fyre of ielousy vp stert wythin hys brest, and hent hym by the hert So woodly, that he lykely was to beholde The boxe tree, or the ashen deed and colde Then sayd he. O cruell goddes, that gouerne Thys worlde wyth your worde eterne And wrytten in the table of Athamant Your parliament and eterne graunt what is mankynde more vnto you yholde Then is the shepe, that rouketh in the folde? For slayne is man, ryght as another beest And dwelleth eke in prison, and in arrest And hath sycknesse, and great aduersite And ofte tyme gyltlesse parde

What gouernaunce is in thys prescience That gyltlesse turmenteth innocence? And encreaseth thus all my penaunce That man is bounden to hys obseruaunce For goddes sake, to letten of hys wyll There as a beest maye all hys lustes fulfyll And when a beest is deed, he hath no payne But after hys death mā mote wepe and playne: Though in thys worlde he haue care and wo wythout doute it maye standen so. The answere of thys lete I to diuines But well I wote, in thys worlde great pyne is Alas I se a serpent or a thefe That many a true man hath do myschefe Gone at hys large, & where hym lyst may turne But I mote bene in prison through Saturne And eke through Iuno, ielous and eke wood That hath stroyed well nye all the blood Of Thebes, wyth hys wast walles wyde And Venus sleeth me on that other syde For ielousye, and feare of hym Arcite. Nowe wyll I slynte of Palamon a lyte And let hym in hys pryson styll dwell And of Arcite forth woll I you tell The sommer passeth, and the nyghtes longe Encreaseth double wyse the paynes stronge Both of the louer, and of the prisoner I not whych hath the wofuller myster For shortly to saye, thys Palamon Perpetuall is dampned to prison In ••haynes and feters to the deed And Arcite is exiled on hys heed For euermore as out of that countre Or neuer more shall hys lady se You louers aske I now thys question Who hath the wo••se, Arcite or Palamon? That one maye se hys lady daye by daye But in prison mote he dwell alwaye That other where hym lyst maye ryde or go But sene hys lady shall he neuer mo Nowe demeth as ye lyst, ye that can For I woll tell forth my tale as I began ¶When that Arcite to Thebes comen was Full ofte a daye he swelte and sayd alas For sene hys lady shall he neuer mo And shortly to conclude all hys wo So mykell sorowe made neuer creature That is or shalbe, whyle the worlde maye dure Hys slepe, hys meate, hys drynke is hym byraft That leane he wareth, and drye as a shaft Hys eyen holowe, and grysly to beholde Hys hewe pale, and falowe as asshen colde And solitary he was, and euer alone And waylynge all the nyght, makynge mone And yf he herde songe or instrument Then wolde he wepe, he myght not stent So feble were hys spirites, and so lowe And chaūged so, y^t no man coude hym knowe Hys speche ne hys voyce, though men it herde As in hys gyre, for all the worlde it ferde Nought comly lyke to louers maladye Of Hereos but rather lyke manye Engendred of Humours melancolyke Beforne hys fell fantastyke And shortly was turned all vp so doun Both habyte and dysposicion Of hym, thys wofull louer Arcyte what shulde I all daye of hys wo endyte? When he endured had a yere or two Thys cruell torment, and thys payne and wo At Thebes in hys countre, as I sayd Vpon a nyght in slepe as he hym layde Hym thought howe that the wynged Mercury Beforne hym stode, and bad hym to be mery Hys slepy yerde in hande he bare vpryght An harte he wered vpon hys heares bryght Arayed was thys god, as he toke kepe As he was, when Argus toke hys slepe And said him thus: to Athenes shalt thou wend There is the shapen of thy wo an end And wyth that worde Arcite awoke and stert Nowe truly howe sore that me smert Quoth he, to Athenes ryght nowe wyll I fare Ne for no drede of death shall I spare To se my lady, that I loue and serue In her presence recke I not to sterue And with that word he caught a great myrrour And sawe that changed was al hys colour And sawe hys vysage all in another kynde And ryght anone it ran hym in hys mynde That syth hys face was so dysfygured Of maladye, the whych he had endured He myght well, yf that he bare hym lowe Lyue in Athenes euermore vnknowe And sene hys ladye well nyghe daye by daye And ryght anone he chaunged hys araye And clad hym as a poore labourer And all alone, saue only a squyer That knewe hys priuitie and all hys caas whych was dysgysed poorely as he was To Athenes is he gone the nexte waye And to the courte he wente vpon a daye And at the gate he profered hys seruyce To druge and drawe, what so men wold deuyse

And shortely of thys mater for to sayne He fell in offyce with a chamberlayne The whiche was dwellyng with Emelye For he was wyse, and sone couth espye Of euery seruaunt, whiche that serued here Well couthe he hewen wodde, & water bere For he was yong and myghty for the nones And therto he was strong & bygge of bones To done that any wyght can him deuyse. A yere or two he was in thys seruyse Page of the chambre, of Emely the bright And Phylostrate he sayd that he hyght But halfe so well beloued man as he Ne was there none in court, of hys degre He was so gentyll of condicyon That through all the court was hys renoun They sayd that it were a charyte That Theseus wolde enhauncen hys degre And put hym in a worshyp full seruyse There as he myght hys vertue exercyse And thus w^tin a whyle hys name is spronge Bothe of hys dedes, and of hys good tonge That Theseus had taken hym so nere That of hys chambre he made hym squyere And yafe hym golde to maynteyn hys degre And eke men brought hym out of hys coutre Fro yere to yere full priuely hys rent But honestly and slyly he it spent That no man wondred howe he it had And thre yere in thys wyse hys lyfe he ladde And bare hym so in peace and eke in werre Ther was no man that Theseus hath der. And in thys blysse lette I nowe Ar••yte And speke I woll of Palamon a lyte. In derknesse horryble and stronge prison Thys seuen yere hath sytten thys Palamon Forpyned, what for wo and distresse who feleth double sore and heuynesse But Palamon: that loue distrayneth so That wode out of hys wit, he gothe for wo And eke therto he is a prisonere Perpetuall, and not onely for a yere. Who coude ryme in Englysshe properly Hys martyrdom▪ forsoth it am nat I Therfore I passe as lyghtly as I may It befell that in the seuenth yere in May The thyrde nyght, as olde bokes sayne (That all thys story tellen more playne) were it by auenture or by destayne As whan a thyng is shapen, it shall be That soon after mydnight, Palamon By helpyng of a frende brake hys prison And fleethe the cyte, as fast as he may go For he had yeue hys gayler drynke so Of a clarrey, made of certen wyne Wyth narcotise and opye, of Thebes fyne That al y^t night, thogh mē wolde hym shake The gayler slept, he mught nat awake And thus he fleeth as fast as he may. The nyght was short, & fast by the day That nedes cost he mote hym selfe hyde And to a groue faste there besyde with dredfull foote than stalketh Palamon For shortly thys was hys opinyon That in y^t groue he wolde hym hyde al day And in the nyght then wold he take his way To Thebes warde, hys ••rendes for to prey On Theseus to helpe hym to warrey And shortly, eyther he wolde lese hys lyfe Or wynne Emelye vnto hys wyfe Thys is theffecte, and hys entent playne. ¶Nowe woll I torne to Arcite agayne That lytell wyst howe nye was hys care Tyl y^t fortune had brought hym in her share The mery larke, messanger of day Saleweth in her songe the morowe gray And firy Phebus aryseth vp so bright That all the oriso•••• laugheth of the syght And with hys streames, drieth in the greues The syluer dropes, hangyng in the leues And Arcite, that in the courte ryall with Theseus hys squier principall Is rysen, and loketh on the mery day And for to don hys obseruaunces to May Remembryng on the poynt of hys desyre He on hys courser, startlyng as the fyre Is rydden in to the feldes hym to play Out of the court, were it a myle or twey And to the groue, of whyche I you tolde By auenture, hys way he gan holde To maken hym a garlonde of the greues were it of wodbynde, or of hauthorn leues And loude he songe ayenst the sonne shene. May, wyth all thy floures and thy grene welcom be thou, fayre fresshe May I hope that I some grene get may And from hys courser, wyth a lusty herte In to the groue full hastely he sterte And in a pathe he romed vp and doun There, as by auenture thys Palamon was in a busshe, that no man myght hym se For sore aferde of hys dethe was he Nothyng ne knewe he, that it was Arcite God wote he wolde haue trowed full lyte

But sothe is sayd, go sythen many yeres That felde hath eyen, and wodde hath eres It is full fayre a man to beare hym euyn For al day men mete at vnset steuyn Full lytell wote Arcyte of hys felawe That was so nyghe to herken of hys sawe For in the busshe sytteth he nowe full styll Whan that Arcyte had romed all hys fyll And songen all the roundell lustely In to a study he fell sodenly As don these louers in theyr quyent gyres Now in the croppe, & now down in y^e brires Nowe vp nowe downe, as boket in a well Ryght as the friday, sothly for to tell Nowe it rayneth, nowe it shyneth fast Ryght so gan gery Venus ouer cast The hertes of her folke, ryght as her day Is geryfull, ryght so chaungeth she aray Selde is the friday all the weke tlyke Whan y^e Arcite had songe, he gan to syke And set hym downe wythouten any more Alas ({quod} he) the day that I was bore Howe longe Iuno through thy cruelte Wylt thou warren Thebes the cyte▪ Alas ybrought is to confusyon The blode ryall of Cadmus and Amphyon Of Cadmus, whiche was the fyrst man That Thebes buylt, or fyrst the town began And of the cyte fyrst was crowned kyng Of hys lynage am I, and of hys ofspring By very lyne, as of the stocke ryall And nowe I am so caytise and so thrall That he that is my mortal enemy I serue hym, as hys squire poorly And yet dothe me Iuno well more shame For I dare not be knowe myne owne name But there as I was wont to hyght Arcyte Now hyght I Philostrat nat worth a myte Alas thou fell Mars, alas thou Iuno Thus hath your yre our lynage all for do Saue only me, and wretched Palamon That Theseus martreth in pryson And ouer all thys to sleen me vtterly Loue hath hys firy darte so bremyngly I stycked through my true carefull herte That shapen was my deth erst my sherte Ye sleen me wyth youre eyen Emelye Ye ben the cause wherfore I dye Of all the remenaunt of myne other care Ne set I nat the mountaunce of a tare So y^t I coude do ought to your plesaunce And with y^t worde he fell down in a traunce A longe tyme, and afterwarde he vp stort This Palamon thought y^e thrugh his hert He felte a colde sworde sodenly glyde For yre he quoke, no lenger wolde he abyde And whan that he had herde Arcites tale As he were wood, with face deed and pale He sterte hym vp, out of the busshes thycke And sayd: Arcyte false traytour wycke Nowe art thou hent, that louest my lady so For whom that I haue th•••• payne and wo And art my bloode, & to my counsell sworn As I haue full ofte tolde the here beforn And hast be taped here duke Theseus And falsly hast chaunged thy name thus I wyll be deed, or els thou shalt dye Thou shalt nat loue my lady Emelye But I woll loue her onely and no mo For I am Palamon thy mortall for Though y^t I haue no weapen in thys place But out of pryson am assert by grace I drede not, that eyther thou shalt dye Or thou ne shalt not louen Emelye These which thou wilt, or y^e shalt not assert This Arcite, with full dispytous hert Whan he hym knewe, & had hys tale herde As sters as a lyon, pulled out his swerde And sayd: By god that sytteth aboue Ne were it y^t thou art syck, & wood for loue And eke y^t thou no wepen hast in thys place Thou shuldest neuer out of this groue pace That thou ne shuldest dyen of myne honde For I defye the s••••etie and the bonde Whiche y^t thou sayst y^t I haue made to the What very fole, thynke wel that loue is fre And I wyl loue her maugre all thy myght But for as moche as thou arte a knyght And wylnest to darrayne here by batayle Haue here my trouth, to morow I wyll nat fayle without wetyng a•• any other wyght That here I well be founden as a knyght And bryngen harneys, ryght ynough for the And chese the best, & leaue the worst for me. And meate & drynke, this night wyl I bring Inough for the, and clothes for thy beddyng And yf so be that thou my lady wyn And slee me in thys wodde ther I am in Thou mayst wel haue thy lady as for me. This Palamon answerde: I graunt it the And thus they ben departed tyll a morowe whā ech of hem had laid his faith to borowe ¶O Cupyde out of all charyte O regne, y^t woldest haue no felowe with the

Ful soth is sayd, that loue ne lordshyp woll not hys thankes haue any felyshyp we fynde that of Arcite and of Palamon Arcite is ryden anone into the toun And on the morowe or it were daye lyght Ful priuely two harneys hath he dyght Both sufficient and mete to darreygne The batayle in y^e felde betwyre hem tweine And on hys horse, alone as he was borne He caryeth all hys harneys hym beforne And in the groue, at tyme and place yset Thys Arcite & thys Palamon bene mette To chaungen gan the colour in her face Ryght as the hunter, in y^e regne of Trace That ••••andeth at a gappe wyth a speare when ••unted is the lyon or the beare And hereth hym rushynge in the leaues And breaketh the bowes in the greaues And thiketh, here cometh my mortal enemy wythout fayle, he must be deed or I For eyther I more slee hym at the gappe Or he more slee me, yf me myshappe So ferden they, in chaungynge of her hewe As farre as euerych of other knewe There nas no good daye, ne no saluyng But streyght, wythout worde or rehersyng Eueryche of hem helpeth for to arme other As frendly, as he were hys owne brother And after that, wyth sharpe speares stronge They foynen eche at other wonder longe Thou myghtest wene, that thys Palamon In hys fyghtynge, were a wood Lyon And as a cruel Tygre was Arcyte As wylde bores gan they fyght and smyte That frothen whyte as some for yre woode ••••p to the ancle foughten they in her bloode ••••d in thys wyse, I let hem fyghtyng dwell And forth I wol of Theseus you tel. The destenye and the minister general That executeth in the worlde ouer al The purueyaūce that god hath sayd beforne So strōge it is, y^t though y^e world had sworn The contrary of thynge he yea or naye Yet somtyme it shall fall on a daye That fell neuer yet in a thousande yere For certaynly our appetytes here Be it of warre, peace, hate, or loue Al is ruled by the syght aboue Thys meane I nowe by myghty Theseus That for to hunt is so desyrous And namely at the great harte in May That in hys bed there daweth hym no day That he nys clad, and redy for to ryde Wyth hunt and horne, & hoūdes hym besyde For in hys huntyng hath he such delyte That it is all hys ioye and appetyte To bene hym selfe the great hertes bane For after Mars, he serueth nowe Dyane Clere was the day, as I haue told or this And Theseus, wyth al ioye and blys Wyth hys Ipolita, the fayre quene And Emely, yclothen all in grene An huntynge ben they rydden ryally And to the groue, that stode there fast by In which ther was an herte, as mē him told Duke Theseus the streyght waye hath hold And to the lande, he rydeth hym ful ryght For thider was y^e hert wōt to haue his flight And ouer a broke, and so forth on hys way This duke wol houe a cours at him or twey With hoūdes, such as hym lyst cōmaunde And when y^e duke was comen into y^e launde Vnder the sonne he loked, and that anon He was ware of Arcyte and Palamon That foughtē breme, as it were bulles two The bryght swordes wenten to and fro So hydously, that wyth the leste stroke It semed, that it wolde haue fellen an oke But what they weren, nothynge he ne wote This duke w^t his sporres his courser smote And at a sterte he was bytwyxt hem two And pulled out hys sworde, and cryed, ho Nomore, on payne of lesyng of your heed By myghty Mars, he shall anone be deed That smyteth any stroke, that I maye sene But telleth me, what myster men ye bene That ben so hardy for to fyghten here Wythout iudge, or other offycere As though it were in lystes rially. Thys Palamon answered hastely And sayd: syr, what nedeth wordes mo▪ We haue the death deserued both two Two wofull wretches ben we & caytyues That ben encombred of our owne lyues And as thou arte a ryghfull lorde and iuge Ne yeue vs neyther mercy ne refuge But slee me fyrst, for saynt charite But slee my felowe as wel as me Or slee hī fyrst, for though thou know it lite This is thy mortal foe, thys is Arcite That fro thy lande is banyshed on hys heed For whych he hath deserued to be deed For thys is he, that came vnto thy yate And sayd, that he hyght Philostrate

Thus hath he iaped full many a yere And thou hast made hym thy chefe squire And thys is he, that loueth Emely. For sythe the day is come that I shall dye I make playnly my confessyon I am thylke woful Palamon That hath thy prison broke wyckedly I am thy mortall foe, and he am I That loueth so hotte Emelye the bright That I wol dye here present in her syght wherfore I aske dethe and my iewyse But slee my felowe in the same wyse For bothe we haue deserued to be slayn This worthy duke answerde anon agayn And sayd, this is a shorte conclusyon Your owne mouthe, by your confessyon Hath dampned you, and I woll it recorde It nedeth not to pyne you wyth a corde Ye shall be deed by myghty Mars the reed The quene anone, for very woman heed Gan for to wepe, and so dyd Emelye And all the ladyes in the companye Great pyte was it, as thought hem all That euer suche a chaunce shulde befall For gentylmen they were of great estate And nothyng but for loue was thys debate And sawe her blody woundes wyde & sore And all cryden bothe lesse and more Haue mercy lorde vpon vs wymen all And on her bare knees downe they fall And wolde haue kyst his fete there he stode Tyl at the last, a slaked was hys mode For pyte renueth sone in gentle herte And though he fyrst for yre quoke & sterte He hath consydred shorthly in a clause The trespas of hem bothe, & eke the cause And al though hys yre her gylt accused Yet in hys reason he hem bothe excused As thus: he thought well that euery man woll helpe hym selfe in loue al that he can And eke delyuer hym selfe out of a pryson And eke hys herte, had compassyon Of wymen, for they wepen euery in one And in hys gentle heyte he thought anone And softe vnto hym selfe he sayd: fy Vpon a lorde, that woll haue no mercy But be a lyon, bothe in worde and dede To hem that ben in repentaunce & in drede As well as to a proude dispytous man That wyll mayntayne that he fyrst began That lorde hath lytell of discretyon That in suche case can no diffynition But wayeth pride and humblesse after one And shortly, whan hys yre was thus agone He gan to loken vp with eyen lyght And spake these wordes al on hyght The god of loue, ah, benedicite Howe myghty, & howe great a lorde is he Agayn hys myght ther gayneth no obstacles He may be cleaped a god for hys miracles For he can maken at hys owne gyse Of euerych hert, as hym lyst deuyse Lo here thys Arcyte, and thys Palamon That quitely were out of my prison gon And myght haue lyued in Thebes ryally And knowen I am her mortall enemy And that her dethe is in my power also And yet hath loue, maugre her eyen two Brought hem hyther bothe for to dye Nowe loketh, is not this a great folye▪ Who may be a fole, but yf he loue▪ Beholde for goddes sake, that sytteth aboue Se howe they blede, be they nat wel arayde Thus hath her lord, y^e god of loue hem payd Her wages and her fees for her seruyse And yet they wenen to be full wyse That serue loue, for aught that may be fall But yet is this the best g••me of all That she, for whom they haue thys iolyte Can hem therfore, as moche thanke as me She wotte nomore of all this hote face By God, than wotte a cokowe or an hare But all mote ben assayed hote and colde A man mote ben a foole other yong or olde I wote it by my selfe full yore agone For in my tyme, a seruaunte was I one And therfore syth I knowe of loues payne I wote howe sore it can a man distrayne As he that ofte hath be caught in her laas▪ I you foryeue all hooly this trespaas At the request of the quene, y^e kneleth here And eke of Emely, my syster dere And ye shall bothe anon anto me swere That ye shal neuer more my countre dere Ne make warre vpon me nyght ne day But ben my frendes in all that ye may I you for yene thys trespas euery dele And they hym swace his asking fair & wele And him of lordshyp and of mercy prayde And he hem graunted grace, & thus he sayde. To speake of worthy lynage & rychesse Though y^e she were a quene, or a princesse Ilke of you bothe is worthy doutles To wedde whan tyme is, but netheles

I speake, as for my syster Emely For whom ye haue thys stryfe and ielowsy Ye wote your selfe, she maye not wedde two At ones, though ye fyghten euer mo But one of you, all be hym loth or lefe He mote go pype in an yue lefe Thys is to saye, she maye not haue both Ne ben ye neuer so ielous, ne so wroth And therfore, I you put in thys degre That eche of you shall haue hys destyne As hym is shape, and herken in what wyse Lo here your ende, of that I shall deuyse My wyll is thys, for plat conclusion Wythout any replicacion Yf that you lyketh, taketh it for the best That euerych of you shall go where him lyst Frely, wythout raunsome or daungere And thys daye fyftye wekes, ferre ne nere Euerych of you shall brynge an .C. knyghtes Armed for the lystes vp all ryghtes Al redy to darreyne here by batayle And thys behote I you wythouten fayle Vpon my trouth, as I am true knyght That whether of you both, hath that myght That is to saye, that whether he or thou May wyth his hūdred, as I spake of now Slee hys contrary, or out of lystes dryue Hym shall I yene Emely to wyue To whom y^t fortune yeueth so fayre a grace. The lystes shall I maken in thys place And god so wysely on my soule rewe As I shal euyn iudge be and trewe Ye shall none other ende wyth me make That one of you shalbe deed or take And yf ye thynken, thys is wel ysayd Sayeth your aduyse, & holde you wel apayd Thys is your ende, and your conclusion. Who loketh lyghtly now but Palamon Who spryngeth vp for ioye but Arcite Who coude tel, or who coude endyte The ioye that is made in thys place When Theseus had done so fayre a grace But doun on knees wēt euery maner wight And thanked him, wyth al her hert & myght And namely these Thebans many sythe And thus wyth good hope & herte blythe They takē her leue, & hōward gan they ryde To Thebes warde, wyth olde walles wyde I trowe men wolde deme it negligence Yf I foryetten to tell the dyspence Of Theseus, that goeth so busely To maken vp the lystes royally That suche a noble Theatre, as it was I dare well saye, in thys worlde ther nas The circute a myle was about Walled wyth stone, and dyched al about Roūde was the shape, in maner of a compas Full of degrees, the heygth of fyrty paas That when a man was set on one degre He letted not hys felowe for to s•• Estward there stode a gate of marble whyte westward ryght suche another in thopposite And shortly to conclude, suche a place was none in erth, as in so lytle space For in the lande, there nas no craftes man That gemetry, or arsmetyke can Ne portriture, ne caruer of ymages That Theseus ne gaue hym mete & wages The theatre for to make and deuyse And for to do hys ryte and sacrifyce He estwarde hath vpon the yate aboue In worshyp of Venus, goddes of loue Do make an auter, and an oratory And on the westsyde, in memory Of Mars, he hath maked such another That cost of golde largely a fother And northwarde, in a turret in the wal Of alabastre whyte, and redde coral An oratorye, ryche for to se In worshyp of Diane, goddes of chastite Hath Theseus do wrought in noble wyse But yet had I foryetten to deuyse The noble caruynges and the portratures The shap, the countenaunce, & the fygures That weren in the oratories thre Fyrst in the tēple of Venus thou mayst se wrought on the wal, ful pytously to beholde The broken slepes, and the syghes colde The sault teares, and the waymentyng The fyre strokes, and the desyryng That loues seruauntes in thys lyfe enduren The othes, that her couenauntes assuren Plesaunce and hope, desyre, foole hardynesse Beauty and youth, baudry and rychesse Charmes and sorcery, leasynges and flatery Dyspence, busynesse, and ielousy That weared of yelowe goldes a garlande And a cokowe syttynge on her honde Feestes, instrumentes, carolles, and daunces Iustes and araye, and al the circumstaunces Of loue, whych I reken and reken shal By ordre, were paynted on the wal And mo then I can make of mencion For sothly all the mounte of Cytheron

Where Venus hath her principal dwellyng was shewed on the wall in portreyng wyth all the ioye, and the lustynesse Nought was foryetē the portresse ydelnesse Ne Narcissus the fayre of yore agon Ne yet the folye of kynge Salomon Ne yet the great strength of Hercules Thenchauntement of Medea and Circes Ne of Turnus, wyth his hardy fyers corage The ryche Cresus caytyfe in seruage Thus may ye sene, that wisdome ne richesse Beaute ne sleyght, strength ne hardynesse Ne may wyth Venus holde champartye For as her lyst the worlde maye she gye Lo, al these folke so caught were in her laas Tyll they for wo full ofte sayd alas Suffyseth here one ensample or two And though I coude reken a thousande mo The statue of Venus glorious to se was maked fletynge in the large see And fro the nauyll downe al couered was wyth wawes grene, and bryght as any glas A cytriole in her ryght hande had she And on her heed, ful semely for to se A rose garlande, freshe and wel smellynge Aboue her heed doues flytterynge Beforne her stode her sonne Cupido Vpon hys shoulders wynges had he two And blynde he was, as it is ofte sene A bowe he had, and arowes bright and kene why shulde I not as wel tellen al The purgatory that was therabout ouer al within the temple of myghty Mars the rede Al paynted was the wal in length & in brede Lyke to the Estris of the grysly place That hyght y^e gret tēple of Mars in Trace In thylke colde frosty regyon Ther Mars hath hys souerayne mancion Fyrst on the wall was paynted a forest In whych ther wonneth nother mā ne beest Wyth knotty and knarry trees olde Of stubbes sharpe, and hydous to beholde In whych ther was a romble & a showe As though a storme shuld breke euery bowe And downward vnder an hyl vnder a bent Ther stode the temple of Mars armipotent wrought all of burnt stele, of whych thentre was longe and streyght, and gastly for to se And ther out came suche a rage & such a vyse That it made all the gates for to ryse The northren lyght in at the dores shone For wyndowe on the wall was there none Thrugh which mē might any lyght discerne The dores were al of athamant eterne Yclensed ouerthwarte and endlonge wyth yren toughe, for to maken it stronge Euery pyller, the temple to sustene was tonne great, of yren bright and shene ¶There sawe I fyrst the derke ymagynyng Of felony, and eke the compassyng: The cruel yre, redde as any glede The pyckpurse and eke the pale drede The smyler, wyth the knyfe vnder the cloke The shepen brennynge wyth y^e blacke smoke The treason of the murdrynge in the bede The open warre, with woundes all be blede Cōteke with blody knyues, & sharpe manace All full of chyrkyng was that sory place The fleer of hym selfe yet saw I there His herte blood hath bathed all his here The nayle ydriuen in the shode on hyght with colde deth, w^t mouth gapyng vpright Amyddes of the temple sate Myschaunce with Discomfort, and sory Countenaunce Yet saw I wodnesse, laughyng in his rage Armed complaynte on theft & fyers courage The carrayne in the bushe, w^t throte ycorne A thousande slayne, & nat of qualme ystorne The tyraunt with the pray by force yraft The town distroyed ther was nothing ylaft Yet sawe I brent the shyppes hoppesteres The hunter ystrangled with y^e wylde beares The sowe frettyng the chylde in the cradyll The coke yscaulded, for al his longe ladyll Naught was foreten y^t in fortune of Marte The carter ouer rydden by his owne carte Vnder the whele full lowe he laye a down There were also of Martes diuysyon The barbour, the boucher, and the smyth That forgeth sharpe swordes on the styth And all aboue depaynted in a toure Sawe I Cōquest, syttyng in great honoure with the sharpe sworde ouer his heed Hangyng by a subtyl twyned threde Depaynted was ther, y^e slaughter of Iulius Of great Nero, and of Anthonius Al be that thylke tyme they were vnborne Yet was her death depaynted there beforne By manacynge of Mars, ryght by fygure So was it shewed in that portreture As is depaynted in the certres aboue Who shalbe deed or els slayne for loue Suffyseth one ensample in storyes olde I may not reken them al, though I wolde

The statue of Marce vpon a carte stode Armed, and loked grym as he were wode And ouer hys heed ther shynen two fygures Of sterres, that ben cleped in scryptures That one (Puella) hyght, y^t other (Rubeus) Thys god armes was arayed thus A wolfe there stode beforne hym at hys fete Wyth eyen reed, and of a man he ete wyth subtyl pensyl was paynted thys storie In redoutynge of Marce and of hys glorye. Nowe to the temple of Dyane the chaste As shortly as I can I wol me haste To tel you al the dyscriptyoun Depaynted ben the walles vp and doun Of huntyng and of shamfast chastyte There sawe I howe woful Calistope when that Dyane greued was wyth her was turned fro a woman to a bere And afterwarde was she made y^e lode sterre Thus was it paynted, I can saye no ferre Her s••••ne is eke a sterre, as men may se There sawe I Dane turned vnto a tre I meane not the goddesse Dyane But Venus doughter, which y^e hight Dane There sawe I Atheon an herte ymaked For vengeaūce y^t he sawe Dyane al naked I sawe how y^t his hoūdes haue hym caught And freten him, for they knewe hym naught Yet ypaynted was a lytel ferthermore Howe Athalant hunted the wylde bore And Meliager, and many other mo For whych Dyane wrought hym care & wo There sawe I many another wonder storye whych me lyst not to drawe in memorye This goddesse ful wel vp an harte she is sete wyth smale houndes al aboute her fete And vnderneth her fete, she had a moone waryng it was, and shulde wane soone In gaudy grene, her statue clothed was wyth bowe in hande, and arowes in a caas Her eyen cast she ful lowe adoun There Pluto hath hys darke regioun A woman trauelynge was her before But for her chylde, so longe was vnbore Ful pytously Lucyna gan she cal And sayd helpe, for thou mayst best of al wel coude he paynte lyuelye that it wrought wyth many a floreyn he the hewes bought

Now then these lystes made, & Theseus That at hys great cost hath arayed thus The temples, and the theatre euerydel When it was done, it lyked him wōder wel But stynte I wol of Theseus a lyte And speke of Palamon and of Arcyte The daye approcheth of her returnynge That euerych shulde an .C. knyghtes brynge The batayle to darreyne, as I you tolde And to Athenes, her couenautes to holde Hath euerich of hem brought an .C. knightes wel armed for the warre, at al ryghtes And sykerly, there trowed many a man That neuer sythnes the worlde began As for to speake of knyghthode, of her honde As farre as god hath made see or londe Nas of so fewe, so noble a company For euery wyght, that loued chyualry And wolde hys thākes haue a passing name Hath prayed, that he myght be of that game And wel was him, that therto chosen was For yf there fel to morowe such a caas Ye knowe wel, that euery lusty knyght That loueth paramours, & hath hys myght were it in Englande, or els where They wolde fayne wyllen to be there To fyght for a lady, ah, benedicite It were a lusty syght for to se And ryght so fardē they wyth Palamon wyth hym there went knyghtes many on Some wolde ben armed in an habergeon And in a brest plate, wyth a lyght gyppion And some wold haue a payre of plates large And some wold haue a pruce sheld or a targe Some wolde be armed on hys legges wele And haue an axe, & some a mace of stele There nas none newe gyse, that it nas olde Armed were they, as I haue you tolde Euerych after hys opinion ¶Ther mayst y^u se comyng wyth Palamon Lygurge hym selfe, the great kinge of Trace Blacke was his berde, & māly was his face The sercles of hys eyen in hys heed They glouden betwyxte yelowe and reed And lyke a lyon loked he aboute wyth kemped heeres on his browes stoute His lymmes great, hys brawnes stronge His shoulders brode, his armes roūde & lōge And as the gyse was in hys countre Ful hye vpon a chare of golde stode he wyth foure whyte bulles in the trays In stede of a cote armure, ouer hys harnays wyth nayles yelowe, & bryght as any golde He hath a beares skyn, cole blacke for olde His lōge heare was kempt behynd his backe

As any rauens fether it shone for blacke A wreth of gold arme great, of huge weight Vpon his heed, set ful of stones bryght Of fyne rubyes and of dyamandes About hys chare ther wente whyt allaundes Twenty and mo, as great as any stere To hunten at the lyon, or at the wilde bere And folowed hym, wyth mosel fast ybounde Colers of golde, and ••orrettes yfyled rounde An hundred lordes had he in hys route Armed ful wel, with hertes sterne and stoute

Wyth Arcite, in storyes as men fynde The great Emetrius, the kynge of Ynde Vpon a stede bay, trapped in stele Couered wyth a cloth of golde diapred wele Came rydyng lyke the god of armes Marce Hys cote armure was of cloth of Trace Couched wyth perle, whyte, rounde & gret His sadel was of brent golde newe ybet A mantel vpon hys shoulders hangyng Bret full of rubyes, reed as fyre sparklyng Hys cryspe heere lyke rynges was yronne And y^t was yelowe, & gletering as y^e Sonne Hys nose was hye, hys eyen bryght cytryn Hys lyppes ruddy, hys colour was sanguyn A fewe frekles in hys face yspreynte Betwexte yelowe, & somdele blacke ymeynte And as a lyon he hys eyen ceste Of fyue and twenty yere hys age I geste Hys berde was wel begonne for to sprynge Hys voyce was as a trompet sownynge Vpon hys heed he weared of laurer grene A garlande freshe and lusty for to sene Vpon hys hande he bare for hys delyte And Egle tame, as any lylly whyte An hundred lordes had he wyth hym there Al armed saue her heedes in her gere Ful rychely in al maner thynges For trusteth wel, that erles, dukes, & kynges were gathered in thys noble companye For loue, and for encreace of chyualrye About this kinge there ran on euery parte Ful many a tame lyon and lyberte And in thys wyse, these lordes al & some Ben on the sonday to the cytie come About prime, and in the towne alyght. ¶This These{us}, this duke this worthy kniʒt when he had brought hem into hys cyte And inned hem, euerych after hys degre He feesteth hem, and doth so great laboure To easen hem, and done hem al honoure That yet men wenen that no mans wyt Of none estate coude amende it The mynstralcye, the seruyce at the feest The great gyftes, to the moste and leest The rich array, throughout Theseus paleys Ne who sat fyrst ne last vpon the deys what ladyes fayrest ben or best daūcyng Or whych of hem can best daunce or syng Ne who moste felyngly speketh of loue Ne what haukes sytten or perchen aboue Ne what houndes lyggen on y^e floure adoun Of al thys now make I no mencion But al the effecte, that thynketh my the best Now cometh y^e point, herkeneth yf you lest

The sonday at night, or day begā to spryng when Palamon the larke herde syng Although it were not day by houres two Yet songe the larke, & Palamon ryght tho with holy herte and with an hye corage He rose vp towenden on his pylgrimage Vnto the blysful Cytherea benygne I meane Venus honorable and dygne And in her hour, he walketh forthe a paas Vnto the lystes, there the temple was And downe he kneleth, & with humble chere And herte sore, he sayd as ye shal here ¶Fayrest of fayre: O lady myne Venus Doughter of Ioue, and spouse to Vulcanus Thou glader of the mount of Cytheron For thylke loue thou haddest to Adon Haue pyte of my bytter teares smerte And take my humble prayer at thyne herte Alas, I ne haue no langage to tel The effecte, ne the turment of myne hel Myne hert may not myne harmes bewraye I am so confused, that I can not saye But mercy lady bryght, that wost wele My thought, & seest what harmes y^t I fele Consyder al thys, and rue vpon my sore As wysly as I shal for euermore Emforth my myght, thy true seruaunt be And holde warre alwaye wyth chastite That make I myne auowe, so ye me helpe I kepe not of armes for to yelpe Ne I ne aske to morowe to haue victory Ne renome in thys case, ne vayne glory Of pryse of armes, to blowen vp & doun But wolde haue fulle possessyoun Of Emely, and dye in her seruyce Finde thou y^t maner how, & in what wyse I retche not, but it may better be

To haue victory of hem, or they of me So that I haue my lady in myn armes For though so be that Mars is god of armes Your vertue is so great in Heuen aboue That yf you lyst, I shall wel haue my loue Thy temple shal I worshyp euer mo And on thyn auter, where I ryde or go I wol don sacrifyce, and fyres bete And yf ye wol not so, my lady swete Than pray I you, to morowe with a spere That Arcyte me through the herte bere Than recke I not, whan I haue lost my lyfe Thoughe Arcyte wynne her to wyfe Thys is the effecte and ende of my prayere Yeue me my lady, thou blysful lady dere whan the orison was done of Palamon His sacrifyce he dyd, and that anon Ful pytously, with al cyrcumstaunces Al tel I nat as nowe hys obseruaunces. But at the laste, the statue of Venus shoke And made a sygne, wherby that he toke That hys prayere accepted was that day For though the sygne shewed a delay Yet wist he wel, that graunted was his bone And w^t glad hert he went him hom ful sone

The thyrde houre in equal that Palamon Began to Venus temple for to gon Tp rose the sonne, and vp rose Emelye And vnto the temple of Dyane gan hye Her maydens, the whiche thyder were lad Ful redely with hem the fyre they had The ensence, the clothes, & the remenaunt al That to the sacrifyce longen shall The hornes ful of meethe, as was the gyse There lacked nought to don her sacrifyce Smokyng the temple, ful of clothes fayre This Emely, with herte debonayre Her body wyshe, with water of a wel But how she dyd ryght I dare nat tel But it be any thyng in generall And yet it were a game to here it all To him that meaneth wel, it were no charge But it is good a man be at his large Her bright heare was vnkēpt & vntressed all A crowne of a grene oke vnseryall Vpon her heed set ful fayre and mete Two fyres on the aulter gan she bete And dyd her thynges, as men may beholde In Stace of Thebes, and these bookes olde whan kenled was the fyre, w^t pitous chere Vnto Dyane she spake as ye may here ¶O chaste goddesse of the woddes grene To whom both heuen & erthe and see is sene Quene of the reygne of pluto, derke & lowe Goddesse of maydēs, y^t myn hert hath know Ful many a yere, and woste what I desyre As kepe me fro the vengeaunce of thyn yre That Acteon abought cruelly Chaste goddesse, wel woste thou that I Desyre to ben a mayde al my lyfe Ne neuer wol I be loue ne wyfe I am thou (woste wel) of thy company A mayde, and loue huntyng and venery And for to walken in the woddes wylde And not for to ben a wyfe, & ben with chylde Nought wyl I knowe companye of man Nowe helpe me lady sythe ye may and can For tho thre formes that thou haste in the And Palamon, that hath suche a loue to me And eke Arcyte, that loueth me so sore This grace I pray the, withouten more And sende loue and peace bytwyxt hem two And fro me turne away her hertes so That al her hotte loue, and her desyre And al her busy turment, and al her fyre Be queynt, or turned in an other place And if so be thou wolte not do me that grace Or yf so be my desteny be shapen so That I shal nedes haue one of hem two As sende me hym that moste desyreth me. Beholde goddesse of clene chastyte The bytter teares, that on my chekes fal Syn thou arte a mayde, and keper of vs all My maydenhede thou kepe, and wel cōserue And whyle I lyue, a mayden wol I y^t serue. ¶The fyres brenne vpon the auter clere whyle Emely was thus in her prayere But sodenly she sawe a thyng queynte For ryght anon, one of the fyres queynte And quycked agayn, and after that anon That other fyre was queynte, and al agon And as it queynte it made a whystlyng As don these wete brondes in her brennyng And at the brondes ende, out ran anone As it were bloddy droppes many one For whiche so sore agaste was Emelye That she was wel nye madde, & gan to crye For she ne wyste what it sygnyfyed But onely for the feare thus she cryed And wepte, that it was pyte for to here And therwithal Dyane gan to apere With bowe in honde, right as an hunteresse And sayd doughter, stynte thyn heuynesse

Amonge the goddes hye it is affyrmed And by eterne worde, wrytten & confyrmed Thou shalt be wedded to one of tho That haue for the so much care and wo But vnto whych of hem I may not tel Farewel, for I may no lenger dwel The fyres, whych on myne auter brenne Shal declaren, er that thou gon henne Thys auenture of loue, as in thys case And with y^e worde, the arowes in the case Of the goddes, clatteren fast and rynge And forth she went, and made vaneshynge For whych thys Emely astonyed was And sayd: what mounteth thys, alas I put me vnder thy protection Dyane, and vnder thy dysposycion And home she goth the next waye This is the effect, there is nomore to saye. The nexte houre of Mars folowyng this Arcite vnto the temple walked is On fyers Mars, to done hys sacrifyse wyth al the myght of hys paynem wyse wyth pytous herte, and hye deuocion Ryght thus to Mars he sayd hys orison ¶O stronge god, that in the reygnes colde Of trace honoured arte, and lorde yholde And hast in euery reygne and euery lande Of armes, al the brydle in thyne hande And hem fortunest, as thy lyst deuyse Accepte of me my pytous sacrifyce Yf so be my thought may deserue And that my might be worthy for to serue Thy godhede, that I maye ben one of thyne Then praye I the, that thou rue on my pyne For thylke payne, and thylke hotte fyre In whech thou brentest whylom for desyre when thou vsedest the fayre beaute Of fayre yonge freshe Venus fre And haddest her in thyne armes, at thy wyll Al though thou ones on a tyme myssyll when Vulcanus had caught the in hys laas And founde thy lyggynge by hys wyfe alas For thylke sorowe, that was in thyne herte Haue ruth as wel on my paynes smerte I am yonge and vnconning, as thou wost And as I trowe, wyth loue offended most That euer was any lyues creature For she that doth me al thys wo endure Ne retcheth neuer, where I synke or flete And wel I wote, or she me mercy hete I mote wyth strength wyn her in this place And wel I wote, wythout helpe or grace Of the, ne may my strength not auayle Thē helpe me lorde to morow in my batayle For thylke fyre, that whylom brent the As well as the fyre nowe brenneth me And do, that I to morowe haue vyctorye Myn be the trauayle, and thyn be the glorye Thy souerayne tēple wol I moste honouren Of any place, and alwaye most labouren In thy pleasaunce, and in thy ••raftes strōge And in thy temple, I wol my baner honge And al the armes of my companye And euermore, vntyl the daye I dye Eterne fyre I wol beforne the fynde And eke to thys auowe I wyl me bynde My berd, my heare, y^t hongeth lowe adoun That neuer yet felte offensioun Of rasour ne of shere, I wol the yeue And bene thy true seruaunt whyle I lyue Now lorde haue ruth vpon my sorowes sore Yeue me the victory, I aske the nomore ¶The prayer stynte of Arcite the stronge The rynges on the temple dore they ronge And eke the dores clatren ful faste Of whych Arcite somwhat him agast.

The fyres brennen vpon the auter bryght That it gan al the temple lyght A swete smel anone the grounde vp yase And Arcite anone hys honde vp hase And more ensence into the fyre he caste wyth other rytes mo, and at the laste The statue of Mars begā his hauberk ryng And with that soūde he herde a murmuryng Ful lowe and dym, that sayd thus: victory For which he yaue to Mars honour & glory And thus wyth ioye, and hope wel to fare Arcite anone into hys ynne is fare As fayne as foule is of the bryght sonne And ryght anone such a stryfe is begonne For thylke grauntynge, in the heuen aboue Bytwyrt Venus, the goddes of loue And Mars the sterne god armypotent That Iupiter was busy it to stynte Tyl that the pale Saturnus the colde That knewe so many auentures olde Founde in hys experience and arte That he ful sone hath pleased euery parte And soth is sayd, elde hath great auauntage In elde is both wysedome and vsage Men maye the olde out ren, but not out rede Saturne anone, to styntē stryfe and drede Al be it that it be agayne hys kynde

Of al thys stryffe he can remedy fynde My dere doughter Venus, {quod} Saturne My course that hath so wyde for to turne Hath more power then wote any man Myn is the drenchynge in the see so wan Myne is the prison in the derke cote Myn is y^e strāglyng & y^e hāgyng by y^e throte The murmure, and the churles rebellyng The groynyng, and the priuy enpoysonyng I do vengeaūce and playne correction whyle I dwell in the sygne of the lyon Myne is the ruyne of the hye halles The fallyng of the toures and of the walles Vpon the mynor, or vpon the carpenters I slewe Sampson shakyng the pyllers And myne ben the maladyes colde The derke treasons, and the castels olde My lokynge is the father of pestilence Nowe wepe nomore, I shal do my diligence That Palamon, that is thyne owne knyght Shal haue hys lady, as thou hym behyght Thogh Mars shal helpe his kniʒt natheles Betwixt you it mote somtyme be pees Albe ye not of one complection That causeth al daye such deuision I am thyne ayle, redy at thy wyl wepe nomore, I wol thy lust fulfyl ¶Now wol I styntē of these goddes aboue Of Mars, and of Venus goddes of loue And playnly I wol tellen you as I can The great effecte, of whych that I began.

Great was y^e feest in Athenes that day And eke that lusty season in May Made euery wyght to ben in such pleasaūce That al that day iusten they and daunce And spenten it in Venus hye seruyce But bycause that they shulden aryse Erly, for to se the great syght Vnto her rest went they at nyght And on the morowe when day gan sprynge Of horse & harneys, noyse and claterynge There was in the hostelryes al aboute And to the palays rode there many a route Of lordes, vpon stedes and palfreys There mayst thou se deuysyng of harneys So vncouth, so rych, & wrought so wele Of goldsmethry, of braudry, and of stele The sheldes bryght testers and trappers Gold hewē helmes, hauberkes & cot armers Lordes in paramentes, on her coursers Knyghtes of retenue, and eke squyers Naylynge the speares, and helmes bokeling Gyggyng of sheldes with layners lacynge There as nede is, they were nothynge ydel The fominge stedes on the golden brydel Gnawyng, and fast the armurers also wyth fyle and hammer, rydyng to and fro Yemen on fote, and comunes many one wyth shorte staues, thycke as they may gone Pypes, trompes, nakoners, and clarions That in the batayle blowen blody sowns The palays ful of people vp and doun Here thre, there ten, holdynge her question Deuinyng of these Theban knyghtes two Some sayd thus, some sayd it shulde be so Some helde wyth hym with y^e blacke berde Some w^t the balled, some w^t the thick herde Some sayd he loked grym, and wold fyght He hath a sparth of twenty poūde of weight Thus was the hal ful of deuinynge Longe after the sonne gan to sprynge The great Theseus of hys slepe gan wake wyth mynstralsye & noyse that they make Helde yet the chambre of hys palays ryche Tyl that the Theban knyghtes, both yliche Honoured weren, and into the place yfette. ¶Duke Theseus is at the wyndowe sette Arayed ryght as he were a god in trone The people preased thyderwarde ful sone Hym for to sene, and done hym hye reuerēce And eke for to here hys hest and hys sentence An heraude on a scaffolde made an oo Tyl al the noyse of the people was ydo And when he sawe the people of noyse styl Thus shewed he the myghty dukes wyl.

¶The lorde hath of hys hye dyscrecion Consydred, that it were dystruccion To gentle bloode, to fyghten in thys gyse Of mortal batayle, now in thys empryse wherfore to shapen, that they shal not dye He wol hys fyrst purpose modefye No man therfore, vp payne of losse of lyfe No maner shorte, polaxe, ne shorte knyfe In to the lystes sende, or thytherbrynge Ne short sword to stycke with point bytynge No man ne drawe, ne beare it by hys syde Ne no man shal to hys felow ryde But one course, wyth a sharp groūden spere Foyne yf hym lyst on fote, hym selfe to were And he that is at myschefe, shalbe take And not slayne, but brought to the stake That shall bene ordeyned on eyther syde But thyther he shal by force, and there abyde And yf so fal, that the chieftayne be take

On eyther syde, or els sleene hys make No lenger shal the turnament laste God spede you, goeth and layeth on faste with swordes & lōge mases fyghtē your fyl Goth now your waye, this is the lordes wyl ¶The voyce of the people touched heuen So loude cryed they wyth mery steuen God saue suche a lorde, that is so good He wylleth no destruction of blood. Vp goeth the trompes and the melodye And to the lystes, rydeth so the companye By ordynaunce, throughout the cytie large Hōged wyth cloth of golde, & not wyth sarge Ful lyke o lorde thys noble duke gan ryde These two Thebans on euery syde And after rode the quene and Emelye And after that an other companye Of one and other, after her degre And thus they passen throughout the cytie And to the lystes comen they be by tyme It nas not of the daye yet fully pryme when set was Theseus full ryche and hye Ipolita the quene, and Emelye And other ladyes in degrees aboute Vnto the seates preaseth al the route And westward, thrugh y^e yates vnder marte Arcite and eke an hundred of hys parte wyth baner reed, is entred ryght anon And in the selue momet entred Palamon Is, vnder Venus, estwarde in that place wyth baner whyte, & hardy chere & face And in al the worlde, to seken vp and doun So euen wythout variacion There nas such companyes twey For there nas none so wyse that coude sey That any had of other auauntage Of worthynesse, ne of estate, ne age So euen were they chose to gesse And in to the renges fayre they hem dresse when that her names red were euerychone That in her nombre, gyle were there none Tho were the gates shyt, & cryed was loude Do now your deuer yonge knightes proude ¶The heraudes left her prycking vp & doun Now ryngen trompes loude and clarioun There is nomore to saye, este and weste In goth the sharpe speres sadly in the arrest In goth the sharpe spurres into the syde There se men who can iust, & who can ryde There shyueren shaftes, vpon sheldes thycke He feleth through the herte spoune the pryck Vp springeth y^e sper••s, twenty fote on hyght Out goth the swordes, as the syluer bryght The helmes they to heawe, and to shrede Out burst y^e blood, wyth sterne stremes rede wyth myghty maces, the bones they to breke He through y^e thyckest of y^e thrōge gan threke Ther stomblen stedes strōge, & down gon al He rolled vnder the foote as dothe a bal He foyneth on hys fete wyth a tronchoun And he hurleth wyth hys horse adoun He through the body is hurte, and syth ytake Maugre hys heed, & brought vnto the stake As forward was, ryght there he must abyde An other is ladde on that other syde And somtyme doth hem Theseus to reste Hem to refeshe, and drynke yf hem leste Full ofte a day haue these Thebans two Togyther met, and done eche other wo Vnhorsed hath eche other of hem twey Ther was no tygre, in the vale of Galaphey when her whelpe is stole, when it is lyte So cruel on the hunte, as is Arcite For ielous herte, vpon thys Palamon Ne in Belmary, there is no fel lyon That hunted is, or for hys honger woode Ne of hys prey, desyreth so the bloode As Palamon to slee hys foe Arcite The ielouse strokes on her helmes byte Out renneth y^e bloode on both her sydes rede Somtyme an ende there is of euery dede For er the Sunne vnto the rest wente The stronge kynge Emetrius gon hente Thys Palamon, as he fought w^t this Arcite And made hys sworde depe in hys flesh byte And by force of twenty is he take Vn yolden, and drawen to the stake And in the rescous of thys Palamon The stronge kynge Lygurge is borne adoun And kynge Emetrius, for al hys strength Is borne out of hys sadle a swordes length So hurte hym Palamon or he were take But al for nought, he was brought to y^e stake Hys hardy herte myght hym helpe naught He must abyde, when that he was caught By force, and eke by composycion Who soroweth now but woful Palamon That more no more gon agayne to fyght ¶And when that Theseus had sene y^e syght He cryed hoe: no more, for it is don Ne none shal lenger to hys felowe gon I wol be true iuge, and not partye Arcite of Thebes shal haue Emelye That by hys fortune hath her fayre ywonne

Anon there is a noyse of people bygonne For ioye of thys, so loude and hye withall It semed that the lystes shulde fall What can nowe fayre Venus done aboue? What sayth she now? what doth y^e quene of loue But wepeth so, for wātyng of her wil Tyl that her teares on the lystes fyll She sayd: I am a shamed doutles Saturne sayd: doughter holde thy pees Mars hath al his wil his kniʒt hath his bone And by myn heed, thou shalt be eased sone ¶The trompes with the loude mynstralcye The heraudes, that so loude yel and crye Ben in her wele, for loue of dan Arcyte But harkeneth me, & stynteth noyse a lyte whyche a myracle there byfell anon The fyers Arcyte had hys helme of ydon And on a courser, for to shewe hys face He pricketh endlonge the large place Lokyng vpwarde vpon Emelye And she ayen hym caste a frendly eye (For women, as to speke in comune They folowen al the fauour of fortune) And was all hys chere, as in hys herte Out of the grounde a fyre infernal sterte From Pluto sent, at the request of Saturne For whiche his horse for feare gan to turne And lepe a syde, and foundred as he lepe And er that Arcyte may taken kepe He pyght hym on the pomell of hys heed That in the place he lay, as he were deed Hys brest to brosten wyth his sadel bowe As blacke he lay as any cole or crowe So was the bloode yronne in his face Anon he was brought out of the place wyth herte sore, to Theseus paleys Tho was he coruen out of hys harneys And in a bedde ybrought ful fayre and blyue For he was yet in memorye, and on lyue And alway cryeng after Emelye. ¶Duke Theseus, with al hys companye Is comen home to Athenes hys cyte with al blysse and great solempnyte Al be it that this auenture was fall He wolde not discomforte hem all Men sayd eke, that Arcyte shulde not dye He shulde ben yhealed of hys maladye And of an other thyng they were as fayne That of hem al there was none slayne Al were they sore hurte, and namely one That w^t aspere was thronled hys brest bone Two other woundes, & two broken armes Some had salues, and some had charmes Fermaces of herbes and eke saue They dronken▪ for they wold her lyeues haue For whiche this noble duke, as he wel can Comforteth and honoureth euery man And made reuel al the longe nyght Vnto the straunge lordes, as it was ryght Ne there nas holde no discomfortyng But as iustes or a tourneyng For sothly there nas no discomfyture For fallyng is holde but an auenture Ne to be ladde by force vnto a stake vnyolden and with twenty knyghtes take One person a lone withouten any mo And haryed forth by arme, foote, and too And eke hys stede driuen forthe with staues With footemen, bothe yemen and knaues It was ar••tted hym no vilanye There may no man cleape it cowardye For whiche anon, duke Theseus dyd crye To stynten al rancour and enuye They grete as wel of one syde as of other And eyther syde ylyke, as others brother And yaue hym ryghtes after her degre And fully helde a feest dayes thre And coueyed the Knyghtes worthyly Out of hys towne, a dayes iourney largely And home went euery man the ryght way Ther was no more, but farwel & haue good day. Of this batayle, I wol no more endyte But speke of Palamon and Arcyte Swelleth the brest of Arcyte, and the sore Encreaseth at his herte more and more The clotered bloode, for any leche crafte Corrumped, and is in hys body lafte That neyther veynbloode, ne ventousyng Ne drynke of herbes, may be helpyng By vertue expulsed, or anymall For thylke vertue cleaped naturall Ne may the venym voyde, ne expell The pypes of hys longes began to swell And euery lacerte, in hys brest adown Is shent wyth venym and corruption Hym gayneth neyther, for to get hys lyfe Vomyte vpwarde, ne downwarde laxatyfe All is to bruste thylke regyon Nature hath no domynacyon And certainly ther as nature w••l nat wirche Farwel phisyke, go beare the corse to chirche Thys is al & some, that Arcyte muste dye For whiche he sendeth after Emelye

And Palamon hys cosyn dere Than sayd he thus, as ye shall after here. ¶Nought may my woful spyrit in my herte Declare a poynte of al my sorowes smerte To you my lady, that I loue moste But I bequethe the seruyce of my goste To you abouen any creature Syn that my lyfe may no lenger dure Alas the wo, alas my paynes stronge That I for you haue suffred and so longe Alas the dethe, alas myn Emely Alas the partyng of our company Alas myn hertes quene, alas my lyues wyfe Myn hertes lady, ender of my lyfe What is the worlde, what asken mē to haue Nowe with his loue, now in his colde graue Alone withouten any company Farwel my swete foe, myn Emely And softe take me in your armes twey For the loue of god, herkeneth what I sey. ¶I haue here with my cosyn Palamon Had stryfe and rancour, many a day agon For loue of you, and for my ielousye And Iupiter so wyssely my soule gye To speken of a seruaunt properly with cyrcumstaunces al trewly That is to say, trouth, honour, & knyghthede wysedom, humblesse, estate, and hye kynrede Fredom, and all that longeth to that arte So Iupiter haue of my soule parte As in this worlde ryght now knowe I non So worthy to be loued as Palamon That serueth you, and woll don all hys lyfe And yf that ye shall euer ben a wyfe For yet not Palamon, the gentyll man And with that worde his speche fayle begā For from hys fete vnto hys brest was come The colde of dethe, that had hym nome And yet more ouer, for in hys armes two The vytal strength is loste, and al ago Saue onely the intellecte, without more That dwelled in his herte sycke and sore Gan faylen, whan the herte felte dethe Dusked hys eyen two, and fayled brethe But on hys lady, yet caste he hys eye Hys laste worde was, mercy Emelye Hys spyrit chaunged, and out went there whytherwarde I can not tel, ne where Therfore I stynte, I am no diuynystre Of soules fynde I not in this regystre Ne me lyst not thylke opinyon to tell Of hem, though they writen wher they dwel Arcyte is colde, that Mars hys soule gye Nowe woll I speke forthe of Emelye. ¶Shright Emely, and howlen Palamon And Theseus his suster vp toke anon Swounyng, & bare her fro hys corse away what helpeth it to tarry forthe the day To tellen how she wept bothe euē & morowe For in suche case women haue suche sorowe whan that her husbandes ben fro hem go That for the more parte they sorowen so Or els fallen in suche maladye That at the laste, certaynly they dye Infinyte ben the sorowes and the teres Of olde folke, and folke of tender yeres In al the towne, for dethe of this Theban For hym there wepeth bothe chylde and mā So great wepyng was there not certayne whan Hector was brought, al freshe islayn To Troy alas, the pyte that was there Cratchyng of chekes, rentyng eke of here why woldest thou be deed, thus women crye And haddest golde ynoughe, and Emelye? No man myght glade Theseus Sauyng hys olde father Egeus That knewe thys worldes transmutacion As he had sene it, bothe vp and doun Ioye after wo, and wo after gladnesse And shewed hym ensamples and lyknesse Ryght as there dyed neuer man, {quod} he That he ne lyued in erthe in some degre Ryght so there lyued neuer man, he sayde In al thys world, that somtyme he ne deyde Thys world is but a thorowfare full of wo And we ben pylgrymes, passyng to and fro Deth is an ende of euery worldes sore. And ouer al thys yet sayd he moch more To thys effecte, ful wysely to exhorte The people, that they shulde hem recomfort Duke Theseus with al hys busy cure Casteth nowe, where that the sepulture Of good Arcyte, shall best ymaked be And eke moste honorable of degre And at the laste he toke conclusyon That there as Arcyte and Palamon Had for loue, the batayle hem bytwene That in the same selue groue, swete & grene There as he had his amerous desyres Hys complaynte, & for loue hys hotte fyres He wolde make a fyre, in whiche the offys Funeral he myght hem al accomplys He hath anon cōmaunded to hacke and hewe The okes olde, and lay hem al on arewe

In culpons, wel arayed for to brenne His offycers with swyfte foote they renne And ryght anon at hys commaundement And after Theseus hath ysente After a beere, and it all ouer spradde Wyth clothe of golde, the rychest that he had And of the same sute he clothed Arcyte Vpon hys handes hys gloues whyte Eke on hys heed a crowne of laurer grene And in his hande a sworde ful bright & kene He loyde hym bare the visage on the bere Therwith he wepte, that pyte was to here And for the people shulde sene hym all Whan it was day, he brought hym to y^e hall That roreth of the cry & of the sorowes soun Tho gan this woful theban Palamon with glytering berde, & ruddy shynyng heres In clothes blacke, dropped al wyth teres And passyng other of wepyng Emely The rufullest of all the company. And in as moche as the seruyce shulde be The more noble, and ryche in hys degre Duke Theseus let forthe the stedes bryng That trapped were in stele all gleteryng And couered with the armes of dan Arcyte Vpon these stedes great and whyte Ther saten folke, of which one bare his sheld Another hys speare, in hys hande helde The thyrde bare with him a bowe turkes Of brent golde was the case & eke the harnes And ryden forthe a pace with sory chere Towarde the groue, as ye shal after here. ¶The noblest of the grekes, that there were Vpon her shuldres caryed the bere With slacke pace, and eyen reed and wete Throughout the cyte, by the mayster strete That sprad was al w^t blak, & that wōder hye Ryght of the same is the strete ywrye Vpon the ryght hande wente Egeus And on the other syde duke Theseus With vessels in her hande, of golde full fyne Al ful of hony, mylke, bloode, and wyne Eke Palamon, with full great company And after that, came wofull Emely With fyre in hande, as was y^t tyme the gyse To don the offyce of funeral seruyse Hye labour, and ful great apparaylyng Was at seruyce, and at fyre makyng That with his grene toppe the heuē raught And twenty fadome of brede armes straught This is to sayn, the bowes were so brode Of strawe first ther was layde many a lode. But how the fyre was maked vp on height And eke the names, howe the trees heyght As oke, firre, beche, aspe, elder, elme, popelere Wyllo, holm, plane, boxe, chesteyn, laulere Maple, thorne, beche, ewe, hasel, whipultre How they were felde, shal nat be tolde for me Ne howe the goddes ronne vp and doun Disheryted of her abytacioun In whiche they wonned in rest and pees Nymphes, Fauny, and amadriades Ne howe the beeste, ne the byrdes all Fledden for feare, whan the trees fall Ne how the grounde agast was of the lyght That was nat wonte to se the sonne bryght Ne how the fyre was couched first with stre And than with drye styckes clouen a thre And than with grene wodde, and spicery And than with clothe of golde and perry And garlondes hāgyng with many a floure The myrre, the ensence, with swete odoure Ne howe Arcyte lay amonge al this Ne what rychesse aboute hys body is Ne howe that Emely, as was the gyse Put in the fyre of funeral seruyse Ne how she swouned whā maked was y^e fyre Ne what she spake, ne what was her desyre Ne what iewelles men in the fyre caste Whan that the fyre was great & brent faste Ne how some cast her sheld, & some her spere And of her vestementes, whiche y^t they were And cuppes full of wyne, mylke, and bloode In to the fyre, that brent as it were woode Ne howe the grekes with a huge route Thryse rydden all the fyre aboute Vpō the lefte hande, with a loude showtyng And thryse with her speares clateryng And thryse howe the ladyes gan crye Ne how that ladde was homwarde Emelye Ne howe that Arcite is brent to asshen colde Ne howe the lyche wake was holde All that nyght, ne howe the grekes play The wake playes, kepe I nat to say Who wrestled best naked, wyth oyle anoynt Ne who bare hym best in euery poynt I woll not tellen howe they gone whom to Athenes, whan the play is done But shortly to the poynt than woll I wende And make of my longe tale an ende.

By processe and by length of yeres All stynten is the mornyng and the teres Of grekes, by one generall assent

Than semed me there was a parlement At Athenes, vpon a certayne poynt and caas Amonge the whiche poyntes yspoken was To haue with certayne countres alyaunce And haue of Thebans fully obeysaunce For whiche thys noble Theseus anon Let sende after thys gentyl Palamon Vnwyste of him what was y^e cause & why: But in his blacke clothes sorowfully He came at hys commaundement on hye Tho sent Theseus after Emelye. Whan they were set, & hushte was y^t place And Theseus abydden hath a space Or any worde came from his wyse brest Hys eyen sette he there hym lest And with suche a sadde vysage, he syked styll And after that, right thus he sayd hys wyll. ¶The fyrst mouer of the cause aboue Whan he first made the fayre chayne of loue Great was theffecte, & hye was hys entente Wel wyste he why, & what therof he mente For with that fayre chayne of loue he bonde The fyre, the eyre, the water, and the londe In certayne bondes, that they may nat fle That same prince and that mouer, {quod} he Hath stablisshed ī this wretched world ados•• Certen dayes and duracion To al that are engendred in thys place Ouer the whiche day they may not pace Al mowe they yet the dayes abredge There nedeth none auctorite to ledge For it is proued by experyence But that me lyst declaren my sentence Than may men by thys ordre discerne That thylke mouer stable is and eterne wel may men knowe, but he be a fole That euery party is deryued from hys hole For nature hath not taken hys begynnyng Of one parte or cantell of a thyng But of a thyng that perfyte is and stable Discendyng so, tyl it be corrumpable And therfore of hys wyse purueyaunce He hath so wel byset hys ordynaunce That spaces of thynges and progressyons Shullen endure by successyons And not eterne, wythout any lye Thus mayst thou vnderstande and se at eye. Lo the oke, that hath so longe a norishyng Fro the tyme that it beginneth first to spring And hath so longe a lyfe, as ye may se Yet at the last, wasted is the tre Consydreth eke, howe that the harde stone Vnder our fete, on whiche we reeade & gone Yet wasteth it, as it lyeth in the wey The brode ryuer somtyme wexeth drey The great townes, se we waue and wende Than ye se that al thys thyng hath ende And man and waman se shal we also That nedeth in one of the termes two That is to sayne, in youthe orels in age He mote be deed, a kyng as wel as a page Some in his bedde, some in the depe see Some in the large felde, as ye may se It helpeth not, al gothe that ylke wey Than may ye se that al thyng mote dey what maketh this, but Iupiter the Kyng? That is prince, and cause of al thyng Conuertyng al to hys propre wyl From whiche it is deryued sothe to tel And here agayne, no creature on lyue Of no degre, auayleth for to stryue Than is it wysedome, as thynketh me To make vertue of necessyte And take it wel, that we may not eschewe And namely that to vs al is dewe And who so grutcheth aught, he dothe folye And rebel is to hym that al may gye And certaynly, a man hath moste honour To dyen in hys excellence and flour whan he is syker of hys good name Thā hath he don his frendes ne him no sham And gladder ought his frendes be of his deth whan with honour y yolde is vp the breth Than whan his name apalled is for age For al foryeten is hys vassellage Than is it best, as for a worthy same To dyen, whan he is best of name The contrarye of al thys is wylfulnesse why grutchen we▪ why haue we heuynesse That good Arcite, of cheualry the floure Departed is, with dutye and with honoure Out of this foule prison, of thys lyfe why grutchen here his cosyn and hys wyfe Of his welfare, that loueth hym so wele? Can he hem thāke? nay god wot neuer a dele That bothe his soule, and eke hem offende And yet they mowe not her lustes amende? ¶what may conclude of thys longe story But after sorowe, I rede vs be mery And thanke Iupiter of al his grace And er we departen from thys place I rede we maken of sorowes two One perfyte ioye, lastyng euer mo And loke nowe where most sorowe is heryn

There wol I fyrst amende and begyn. Suster quod he, thys is my ful assent Wyth al the people of my parlement That gentle Palamon, your owne knyght That serueth you with wyl, herte, & myght And euer hath done, sythe ye fyrst hym knew That ye shal of your grace vpon hym rewe And take hym for husbonde and for lorde Lene me your honde, for thys is our accorde. Let se nowe of your womanly pyte He is a kynges brother sonne parde And though he were a poore bachelere Syn he hath serued you so many a yere And had for you so great aduersyte It muste ben consydred, leueth me For gentle mercy ought to passen ryght. Than sayd he thus to Palamon y^e Knight I trowe chere nede lytel sarmonyng To make you to assenten to thys thyng Cometh nere, & taketh your lady by y^e honde Bytwyxt hem was maked anon the bonde That hyght matrimony or maryage By all the counsayle of the baronage And thus with al blysse and melodye Hath Palamon ywedded Emelye. ¶And god that al this world hath wrought Sende him his loue, y^t it hath so dere bought For nowe is Palamon in al wele Lyuyng in blysse, in richesse, and in hele And Emelye hym loueth so tenderly And he her serueth so gentelly That neuer was ther no worde hē bytwene Of ielousye, or of any other tene Thus endeth Palamon and Emelye And god saue al thys fayre companye.

¶Here endeth the Knyghtes tale, and here foloweth the Myl∣lers Prologue.

WHan that the knight had thus hys tale ytolde In al the companye nas ther yong ne olde That he ne sayd, it was a no∣ble story And worthy to be drawen in memory And namely the gentyls euerychone Our hoste lough and sware, so mote I gone This gothe a right, vnbokled is the male Let se nowe who shal tel another tale For truely, the game is wel begonne Nowe telleth syr monke yf ye donne Somwhat, to quyte with the knyghtes tale ¶The myller for dronken was al pale So that vnnethes vpon hys horse he satte Ne nolde auale neyther hoode ne hatte Ne abyde no man for hys curtesye But in Pylates voyce he began to crye And swore by armes, bloode, and bones I can a noble tale for the nones with which I wol nowe quyte y^e Knight his tale ¶Our hoste sawe that he was dronkē of ale And sayd: abyde Robyn leue brother Some better man shal tel vs fyrst an other Abyde, and let vs wirche thriftely. ¶By goddes soule ({quod} he) that wol not I For I wol speke, or els go my way Our hoste answerde: tel on a dyuelway Thou arte a foole, thy wytte is ouercome Nowe herkeneth quod y^u myller, al & some But fyrst I make protestacion That I am dronke, I knowe it by my soun And therfore yf I mispeke or say wyte it the ale of Sothwarke, I you pray For I wol tel a legende and a lyfe Bothe of a carpenter and hys wyfe Howe that a clerke set a wrightes cappe. ¶The Reue answerde &, said, stynte thy clap Let be thy lende dronken harlottry It is a synne, and eke a great folye To apayren any man, or hym defame And eke to bryng wyues in suche blame Thou mayst ynouge of other thynges sayn. Thys dronkē myller spake ful sone agayn And sayd: leue brother Oswolde who hath no wyfe is no cokolde But I say not therfore that thou arte one There ben ful good wyues many one why arte thou angry with my tale now I haue a wyfe parde, as wel as thou Yet nolde I for al the oxen in my plough Take vpon me more than ynough To demen of my selfe that I am one I wol beleue that I am none. An husbonde shulde not ben inquisytyse Of goddes priuete, ne of hys wyfe For so he fynde goddes foyson there Of the remenaunt, nedeth nat to enquere. what shulde I more say, but this Myllere He nolde his wordes for no man forbere But tolde his chorles tale in this manere

Me forthynketh I shal reherce it here And therfore, euery gentle wight I pray Demeth not for goddes loue, that I say Of yuel entent, but that I mote reherce Her tales al, ben they better or werse Or els fa••••en some of my matere And therfore, who so lyst it not to here Turne ouer the lefe, and chose another tale For ye shal fynde ynowe great and smale Of hystorial thyng, that toucheth gentilnesse And eke moralite, and holynesse Blame not me, yf that ye chose amys The Myller is a chorle, ye knowe wel this So was the Reue eke, and other mo And harlotry they tolde eke bothe two Auyse you, and put me out of blame And eke men shuld not make ernest of game.

¶Here endeth the Myllers pro∣logue, and here after fo∣loweth hys tale.

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WHylom ther was dwel∣lyng in Oxenforde A ryche gnoffe, y^t gestes helde to borde And of his craft he was a carpenter Wyth hym there was dwelling a poore sco∣ler Had ylerned arte, but al his fantasye Was turned to lerne Astrologye And coude a certayne conclusyons To demen by interogacions If that men asked hym in certayne houres whan y^t men shulde haue drought or shoures Or yf men asked hym what shulde befall Of euery thyng, I may not reken al. Thys clerke was cleped hende Nycholas Of derne loue he coude and of solas And therto he was slye and ryght priue And ylyke to a mayden meke to se A chambre had he in that hostelry Alone, withouten any company Ful fetously dight with herbes sote And he hym selfe as swete as is the rote Of lycores, or of any sytuwale His almagiste, and bokes great and smale His after lagour, longyng for hys arte His augrym stones lyeng fayre a parte On shelues couched at his beddes heed Hys presse ycouered with a foldyng reed And al aboue there lay a gay sautrye On whiche he made on nyghtes melodye So swetely, that al the chambre ronge And Angelus ad virginem he songe

And after that he songe the kynges note Ful ofte blessed was hys mery throte And thus the swete clerke hys tyme spente After hys frendes fyndynge and hys rente. ¶Thys carpenter had wedded new a wyfe whych that he loued more then hys lyfe Of eyghtene yere she was of age Ielous he was, and kepte her strayte in cage For she was wyld, and yonge: & he was olde And demed hym selfe to ben a cokewolde He knewe not Cato: for hys wytte was rude That bad men wedde her similitude Men shulde wedde after her astate For youth and elde is often at debate But syth he was fallen in the snare He must enduren, as other folke hys care Fayre was this yōge wyfe, & therwithal As any wysele her body gentle and smale A seynte she weared, barred al wyth sylke A barme clothe, as whyte as morowe mylke Vpon her lendes, ful of many a gore whyt was her smock, & embrouded al byfore And eke behynde on her colere aboute Of cole blacke sylke, within and eke without The tapes of her whyte volypere were of the same sute of her colere Her fylet brode of sylke, and set ful hye And sykerly, she had a lykerous eye Ful smale ypulled were her browes two And tho were bent, and black as any slo She was moche more blysful for to se Then is the newe Perienet tre And softer then the wol is of a wether. And by her gyrdel honge a purse of lether Tassed wyth sylke, and perled wyth latoun In al thys worlde, to seken vp and doun There nys no man so wyse, y^t couth thenche So gay a popelote, or so gay a wenche Ful bryghter was the shynyng of her hewe Then in the towre the noble forged newe But of her songe, it was so loude & erne As any swalowe syttynge on a berne Therto she couth skyppe, & make a game As any kydde or calfe folowyng hys dame Her mouth was swete, as braket or y^e methe Or horde of apples, lyeng in hey or hethe wynsynge she was, as is a ioly colte Longe as a maste, & vpryght as a bolte A broche she bare on her lowe collere As brode as the bosse of a bokelere Her shoes were lased on her legges hye She was a primrole, and a pyggeskye For any lorde to lyggen in hys bedde Or yet for any good yoman to wedde. ¶Nowe sir and efte sire, so byfel the caas That on a day thys hende Nycholas Fel with thys yonge wyfe to rage and pley whyle that her husbonde was at Oseney As clerkes ben ful sotel and queynte And priuely he caught her by the queynte And sayd: I wys but I haue my wyll For derne loue of the lemman I spyll And helde her faste by the haunche bones And sayd: lemman loue me wel at ones Or I wol dyen also god me saue And she spronge as a colte in a traue And with her heed she wrieth fast away And sayd: I wol not kesse the by my say why let be quod she, let be Nycholas Or I wol crye out harrowe and alas Do way your handes for your curtesye Thys Nycholas gan mercy for to crye And spake so fayre, & profered hym so faste That she her loue graunted hym at laste And swore her oth, by s. Thomas of Kent That she wolde bene at hys cōmaundement when that she may her leyser wel aspye My husbonde is so ful of ielousye That but ye wayte wel, and be priue I wotte ryght wel I nam but deed, {quod} she Ye mote ben ful derne as in thys caas. Nay therof care ye not, quod Nycholas A clerke had lytherly byset hys whyle But yf he couth a carpenter begyle And thus they were accorded, and ysworne To awayten a tyme, as I haue sayd byforne And whē Nicholas had don thus euery dele And thacked her aboute the lendes wele He kyssed her swete, then taketh hys sautry And playeth faste, and maketh melody Then fel it thus, that to y^e parysh cherche (Christes owne workes for to werche) Thys good wyfe wente vpon an holydaye Her forheed shone as bryght as any daye So was it washe, when she let her werke ¶Now was ther of y^e chirch a parysh clerke The whych that was cleaped Absolon Croulle was hys heare, & as golde it shon And strouted as a fanne large and brode Ful streyght & euen lay hys ioly shode Hys rode was redde, hys eyen gray as goos with Poules wyndowes coruē on his shoos In hosen redde he wente fetously Gyrde he was ful smale and properly

Al in a kyrtel of lyght waget Ful fayre and thycke ben the poyntes set And therupon he had a gay surplyse As whyte as is the blosome on the ryse A mery chylde he was, so god me saue wel coude he let bloode, clyppe, and shaue And make a chartre of lande, & a quytaunce In twenty maner coude he tryp and daunce After the skole of Oxenforde tho And wyth hys legges casten to and fro And play songes on a smale rybyble Therto he songe somtyme a loude quinyble And as wel couth he playe on a geterne In al the towne nas brewhouse ne tauerne That he ne vysyted wyth hys solas There any gay tapstere was But soth to say he was somwhat squaimous Of fartynge, and of speche daungerous. ¶Thys Absolon, that was ioly and gaye Goth wyth a censer on the sondaye Cencyng the wyues of the paryshe faste And many a louely loke on hem he caste And namely on thys carpenters wyfe To loke on her hym thought a mery lyfe She was so propre, and swete as lycorous I dare wel ••ayne yf she had ben a mous And he a catte, he wold haue her hente anon Thys paryshe clerke, thys ioly Absolon Hath in hys herte such a loue longynge That of no wyse toke he none offerynge For curtesye he sayd he wolde none The moone, whē it was night bryght shone And Absolon hys geterne hath ytake For paramours he thought for to wake And forth he goeth, ielous and amerous Tyl he came to the carpenters hous A lytle after the cockes had ycrowe And dressed hym by a shot wyndowe That was vpon the carpenters wall He syngeth in hys voyce gentle and small Nowe dere lady, yf thy wyl be I pray you that ye wol rewe on me Ful wel accordyng to hys geternynge. ¶Thys carpenter awoke, & herde him synge And spake vnto hys wyfe anon what Alyson, heres thou not Absolon That chaūteth thus vnder our boures wal? And she aunswerd her husbande ther withal Yes god wot, I here hym euery dele This passeth forth, what wil ye bet thē wele Fro day to day, thys ioly Absolon So woeth her, that hym was wo bygon He waketh al the nyght, and al the day He kēbeth hys lockes brode, & made him gay He woeth her by meanes and brocage And swore, he wolde ben her owne page He syngeth brokkyng as a nyghtyngale He sent her pyment, meth, and spyced ale And wafres pypynge hotte out of the glede And for she was of toun, he profred her mede For some folke wol be wonne for rychesse And some for strokes, & some with gētlenesse Somtyme to shew his lyghtnes & mastrye He playeth Heraudes on a skaffolde hye But what auayleth hym, as in thys caas? So loueth she thys hende Nicholas That Absolon may blowe the buckes horne He ne had for hys laboure but askorne And thus she maketh Absolon her ape And al hys request turneth to a iape Forsoth thys prouerbe it is no lye Men say thus alway, the nye slye Maketh the ferre loue to be loth For though y^e Absolon be woode or wroth Bycause that he ferre was from her syght Thus nye Nycholas stode in hys lyght But now beare the well hende Nycholas For Absolon may wayle & synge alas And so byfel it on a saterbay Thys carpenter was gone to Osnay And hende Nicholas and Alyson Accorded were to thys conclusion That Nycholas shulde shapen hem a wyle Thys sely ielous carpenter to begyle And yf so be the game went aryght She shulde slepe in hys armes al nyght For thys was hys desyre, and hers also And ryght anone, wythout wordes mo Thys Nycholas no lenger wolde tarye But doth ful softe vnto hys chambre carye Both meate and drynke, for a day or twey And to her husbande bade her for to sey Yf that he asked after Nycholas She shulde saye she nyst where he was Of al that daye she sawe hym not with cyte She trowed he was in some maladye For no crye that her mayde coude cal He nolde answere, for naught y^t might befal ¶Thus passeth forth al the ylke saterday That Nycholas styl in hys chambre lay And ete, dranke, & slept, & dyd what him lyste Tyl sonday, that the Sunne goeth to reste ¶Thys sely carpenter hath great maruayle Of Nicolas, or what thinge might him eyle

And sayd: I am a drad by saynte Thomas It stondeth not aryght with Nycholas God shylde that he dyed sodaynly This worlde is nowe ful tykel sekerly I sawe to day a corse borne to cherche That now on mōday last I saw him werche Go vp (quod he vnto hys knaue) anone Cleape at his dore, & knocke fast with a stone Loke howe it is, and tel me boldely. ¶This knaue wente vp ful sturdely And at the chambre dore, whyle that he stode He cryed and knocked as he were woode What howe? what do ye mayster Nicholay? Howe may ye slepe al this longe day? But al for naught, he herde not aworde. An hole he founde ful lowe vpon a borde There as the catte was wonte in to crepe And at that hole he loked in ful depe And at the laste he had of hym a syght ¶Thys Nicholas sate euer gapyng vpright As he had keyked on the newe mone A down he gothe, & tolde his mayster sone In what aray he sawe thys ylke man ¶This carpenter to blyssen hym began And sayd: nowe helpe vs seynt Frideswyde A man wot lytel what shal hym betyde This man is fallen, with hys Astronomye In some woodnesse, or in some agonye I thought aye wel howe it shulde be Men shulden not knowe of goddes priuete Ye blessed be alway the leude man That naught but onely his byleue can. Right so ferde another clerke w^t astronomy He walked in to the feldes for to pry Vpon the sterres, to wete what shulde befal Tyl he was in a marlpyt yfal He sawe not that, yet by saynte Thomas Me reweth sore on hende Nicholas He shal be arated out of hys studyeng If that I may, by Iesus heuen kyng. Get me a staffe, that I may vnderspore Whyle that thou Robyn heuest vp the dore He shal out of hys studyeng, as I gesse And to the chambre dore he gan hym dresse Hys knaue was a stronge carle for the nones And by the haspe bare vp the dore at ones Into the store the dore fel anone. ¶This Nicholas sate as styl as any stone And euer gaped vpwarde into the eyre. This carpenter wende he were in dispeyre And hente hym by the shulders myghtyly And shoke hym harde, and cryed spytously what Nicholas, what how loke adowne Awake, and thynke on Christes passyon I crouche y^t from elues & frō wicked wightes Therwith the nightspel he said anonrightes On foure halues of the house aboute And on the thresholde of the dore without Iesu Chryst, and saynt Benedyght Blysse this house from euery wycked wight Fro the nyghtes mare the wyte Pater noster where wonnest thou saynt Peters suster? ¶And at the laste thys hende Nicholas Gan for to syke sore, and sayd alas Shal al this worlde be loste estsones nowe? This carpēter answerde: what sayst thou? what thinke on god, as we do men y^t swynke This Nicholas answerde: fetch my drinke And after wol I speke in priuete Of certayne thynges, that toucheth the & me I wol tellen it none other man certayne. This carpēter goth down, & cometh agayn And brought of myghty ale a large quarte And whan that eche of hem had dronkē hys parte This Nicholas, his dore faste shette And downe the carpenter by hem sette And sayd: Iohn hoste myne lefe and dere Thou shalte vpon thy trouthe swere me here That to no wight thou shalt my coūsel wrey For it is Christes counsayle that I say And yf thou tel it any man, thou arte forlore For this vengeaūce thou shalte haue therfore That yf thou wray me, thou shalt be woode. ¶Nay Christ it forbyd for hys holy bloode Quod tho this sely man, I am no blabbe Ne though I say it, I am not lefe to gabbe Say what thou wolte, I shal it neuer tel To childe ne wyfe, by him that harowed hel. Nowe Iohn ({quod} Nicholas) I wol nat lye I haue yfounden in myn astrologye As I haue loked in the moone bright That now on monday next, at quarter night Shal fal a rayne, & that so wylde & woode That halfe so great was neuer Noes floode This world (he said) in lesse than in an houre Shal al be dreynte, so hydous is the shoure Thus shal mankynde drenche, & lese her lyfe. This carpēter answerd & said: alas my wife And shal she drenche? Alas myn Alyson For sorowe of this he fel almoste adoun And said: Is there no remedye in thys caas? Yes yes ful good (quod hende Nicholas) If thou wolt werche after lore and rede Thou maist not werchē after thyn own hede

For thus sayeth Salomon, y^t was ful trewe worke al by coūsayle, & thou shalt not rewe And yf thou wylt werken by good counsayle I vndertake, wythout mast or sayle Yet shal I saue her, and the and me Hast thou not herde howe saued was Noe? when y^t our lorde had warned hym byforne That al y^e worlde with water shuld be lorne Yes (quod the carpenter) ful yore ago ¶Hast thou not herde (quod Nicholas) also? The sorowe of Noe wyth hys feloshyp Or that he myght gete hys wyfe to shyppe Hym had leuer, I dare wel vndertake At thylke tyme, then al hys wethers blake That she had a shyp herselfe alone And therfor wost thou what is best to done? Thys asketh haste, and of an hasty thynge Men may not preche ne make taryenge Anone go get vs fast into thys inne A knedyng trowe or els a kemelyn For eche of vs, but loke that they ben large In which me mowe swymmē as in a barge And haue therin vytayles sufficiante But for a day, fye on the remenante The water shal aslake and gon awaye Aboute prime vpon the nexte daye But Robyn may not wetē of thys thy knaue Ne eke thy mayde Gylle, I may not saue Aske not why; for though thou aske me I wol not tel goddes priuete Suffyseth the, but yf thy wyttes be madde To haue as great a grace as Noe hadde Thy wyfe shal I wel saue out of doute Go nowe thy way, & spede the here aboute But when thou hast for her, & the, and me Ygetten vs these knedynge tubbes thre Then shalt thou hange hem in y^e rofe ful hye That no man of our purueyaunce espye And when y^u hast done thus as I haue sayde And hast our vytayle fayre in hem ylayde And eke an axe to smyte the corde a two when y^t the water cometh, that we may go And breake an hole on hye vpon the gable Vnto the garden warde, ouer the stable That we may frely passen forth our waye when that the great shoure is gone awaye Then shalt y^u swym as mery I vndertake As doth y^e whyt ducke after her drake Then wol I clepe, howe Alyson, how Iohn Be mery: for the floode wol passe anon And thou wolt sayn, hayle master Nicholay Good morowe: for I se wel that it is day And then we shul be lordes al our lyfe Of al the worlde, as was Noe and his wyfe But of one thynge I warne the ful ryght Be wel auysed on that ylke nyght That we be entred into the shyppes borde That none of vs ne speake not a worde Ne clepe ne crye, but ben in hys prayer For it is goddes owne heste dere. ¶Thy wife & thou mot hāge farre a twinne For that betwyxte you shalbe no synne No more in lokynge then there shal in dede Thys ordinaunce is sayd, go God the spede To morowe at nyght, whē men be al aslepe Into our knedynge tubbes wol we crepe And sytten there, abydynge goddes grace Go now thy waye, I haue no lenger space To make of thys no lenger sermonyng Men sayne thus: send y^e wyse, & say nothyng Thou art so wyse, it nedeth the not to teche Go saue our lyues, and that I the beseche ¶Thys sely capenter goeth forth his waye Ful ofte he sayd, alas and welawaye And to hys wyfe he tolde hys priuete And she was ware, & knewe it bet then he what al thys queynt cast was for to sey But natheles, she ferde as she wolde dry And sayd: alas, go forth thy way anone Helpe vs to skape, or we be deed echone I am thy trewe very wedded wyfe Go dere spouse, and helpe to saue our lyfe Lo, whych a great thynge is affection Men may dye of ymagynacion So depe may impression be take. Thys sely carpenter begynneth to quake Hym thynketh verely that he may se Noes stoode come waltrynge as the see To drenchen Alyson, hys hony dere He wepeth, waileth, and maketh sory cher•• He syketh, wyth many a sory thought He gothe, & getteth hym a knedyng trough And after a tubbe, and a kemelyn And priuely he sent hem to hys in And hynge hem in the rofe ful priuely Hys owne honde, he made hym ladders thre To clymben by the ronges, & by the stalkes Into the tubbes hongyng by the balkes And hem vitayled, both trough and tubbe wyth breed and chese, & good ale in a tubbe Suffysyng ryght ynowe, as for a daye But er that he had made al thys arraye He sent hys knaue, and eke hys wenche also Vpon hys nede to London for to go

And on y^e monday, when it drowe to nyght He shette his dore, without candel lyght And dressed al thyng, as it shulde be And shortly clomben vp al thre They sytten styl not fully a furlonge way Now pater noster clum, sayd Nicolay And clum {quod} Iohan, & cluom sayd Alison Thys carpenter sayd hys deuocion And styl he syt, and byddeth hys prayere Awaytynge on the rayne, yf he it here. ¶The deed slepe, for wery besynesse fel on thys carpenter, ryght as I gesse Aboute curfewe tyme, or lytel more For trauayle of hys gost he groneth sore And efte he routeth, for hys heed myslay And down of y^e ladder thē stalketh Nicolay And Alyson ful softe after she spedde wythout wordes mo they went to bedde There as the carpenter was woned to lye There was the reuel, and the melodye And thus lyeth Alyson and Nycholas In busynesse of myrth and solas Tyl that the bel of laudes gan to rynge And freres in the chaunsel gon to synge. ¶Thys parysh clerke, thys amerous Absolō That is for loue alway so wo bygon Vpon the monday was at Osenay wyth company, hym to dysporte and play And asked vpon a case a cloysterere Ful priuely, after Iohn the carpentere And he drewe him a parte out of the chyrche And said I not: I saw him not here wyrche Syth saturday, I trowe that he be went For tymbre, there our Abbot hath hym sent For he is wont for tymbre for to go And dwellen at the grange a day or two Or els he is at hys house certayne where that he be, I can not sothly sayne. Thys Absolon, ful ioly was and lyght And thouʒt, now is my time to walk alnight For sekerly, I sawe hym not sterynge About hys dore, syth day began to sprynge So mote I thriue, I shal at cockes crowe Ful priuely knocke at hys wyndowe That stant ful lowe vpon hys boures wal To Alyson wol I nowe tellen al My loue longynge: for yet I shal not mysse That at the leest way I shal her kysse Some maner comforte shal I haue parfaye My mouth hath ytched al thys longe daye That is a sygne of kyssynge at the leest Alnyght me mette eke, that I was at a feest Therfore I wol go slepe an houre or twey And al the nyght then wol I walke & pley. ¶When y^t the fyrst cocke hath crowe anon Vp ryst thys ioly louer Absolon And hym arayeth gay, and in queynt deuyce But fyrst he cheweth greyns and lycoryce To smellen sote, or he had kempt hys here Vnder hys tonge a trueloue he bere For therby he wende to ben graciouse He rometh to the carpenters house And styll he stante vnder the shotwyndowe Vnto hys brest it raught, it was so lowe And softe he knocked, wyth a semely soun. what do ye honycombe, swete Alysoun? My fayre byrde, my swete synamome Awaketh lemman myne, and speaketh to me Ful lytel thynken ye vpon my wo That for your loue I swelt there as I go No wonder is though I swelte and swete I morne as dothe the lambe after the tete I wys lemman, I haue suche loue longyng That lyke a turtle trewe is my mornyng I may not eaten no more then may a mayde Go fro the wyndowe Iacke foole, she sayde As helpe me God and swete saynt Iame I loue another, or els I were to blame wel bet then the (by Iesu) Absolon Go forth thy waye, or I wol caste a ston And let me slepe, a twenty dyuelway ¶Alas quoth Absolon, and welaway That trewe loue was euer so yuel bysette Then kysse me, syn it may be no bette For Iesus loue, and for the loue of me. wylt y^u then go thy waye therwith {quod} she? ¶Ye certes lemman, quoth thys Absolon Then make the redy ({quod} she) I come anon And vnto Nycholas she sayd styl Nowe peace, and thou shalt laugh thy fyl This Absolon down set him vpō his knees And sayd: I am a lorde at al degrees For after thys I hope there cometh more Lemman thy grace, & swete byrde thy nore. The wyndowe she vndoth, & that in haste Haue do ({quod} she) and spede the faste Let not our neyghbours the aspye. This Absolō gan wype his mouth ful drye Derke was the nyght, as pytche or cole And at y^e wyndow she put out her ers hole And Absolon him felte neyther bet ne wers But with his mouth he kyst her bare ers Ful sauerly, or he were ware of thys. A backe he sterte, & thought it was amys

For wel he wyste, a woman hath no berde He felte a thyng al rowe, and longe herde And sayd: fye, alas what haue I do? ¶Te he quod she, & clapte the wyndowe to And Absolon gothe forthe a sory paas A berde a berde, sayd hende Nycholas By goddes corpus, this gothe fayre & wele. This sely Absolon herde it euery dele And on hys lyppe he gan for angre byte And to him selue he sayd, I shal the quyte who rubbeth now, who froteth now his lips with dust, w^t sonde, with strawe, with chyps But Absolon? that saythe ful often alas My soule betake I to Sathanas But me were leuer thā al this town, quod he Of this dispyte auenged for to be. ¶Alas (quod he) alas y^t I ne had ybleynt His hotte loue is colde, and al yqueynt For fro the tyme that he had kyste her ers Of paramours he set not a kers For he was healed of hys maladye Ful ofte paramoures he gan defye And wepe as dothe a chylde that is ybete A softe pace he wente ouer the strete Vnto a smythe, men callen dan Gerueys That in hys forge smyteth plowe harneys He sharpeth shares, and culters besyly This Absolon knocketh al easily And said vndo Gerneys, and that anon ¶What who arte thou? It am I Absolon What Absolon, what for Christes swete tre Why ryse ye so rathe••ey benedicite what eyleth you? some gay gyrle god it wote Hath brought you thus on the berytote By saynte note, ye wote wel what I mene ¶This Absolon ne raught not a bene Of al his play no worde agayne he gasse He hath more towe on hys distaffe Than Geruays knewe, & sayd frende so dere The hote cultre, in the chymeney here As lene it me, I haue therwith to done I wyl bryng it the agayne ful sone. ¶Gerueys answerde: certes were it golde Or in a poke nobles al vntolde Thou shuldest it haue, as I am trewe smyth Eye cristes fote, what wol ye don therwith? Therof (quod Absolon) be as be may I shal wel tellen the by to morowe day And caught the culter by the colde stele Ful softe out at the dore gan he stele And went vnto the carpenters wal He coughed fyrst, & knocked ther withal Vpon the wyndowe, right as he dyd ere. ¶This Alyson answerde: who is there That knocketh so? I warāte he his a thefe. Why nay ({quod} he) god wot my swete lefe I am thyn Absolon, thyn owne derlyng Of golde ({quod} he) I haue y^e brought a ryng My mother yaue it me, so god me saue Ful fyne it is, and therto wel ygraue This wol I yeue the, yf thou me kysse. This Nycholas was ryssen for to pysse And thought he wolde amenden all the iape He shulde kysse his ers er that he skape And vp the wyndowe dyd he hastely And out his ers he put ful priuely And ouer the buttockt, to the haunche boon And therwith spake this clerke, this Absolon Speke swete byrde, I not where thou arte. ¶This Nycholas anon let fleen a farte As great as it had ben a thunder dent That with the stroke he was welny yblent And he was redy with hys yron hote And Nycholas in the arse he smote. Of gothe the skyn an hondbrede about The hotte cultor brende so hys toute And for the smerte he wende for to dye As he were woode, he gan for to crye Helpe, water, water, for goddes herte This carpenter out of hys slomber sterte And herde one crye water, as he were wood And thought, alas now cometh Noes flood And sette hym vp without wordes mo And with an axe, he smote the corde a two And downe gothe al, he foūde neyther to sel Breed ne ale, but downe shortly he fel Vpon the flore, and there a swowne he lay ¶Vp sterte than Alyson & hende Nycholay And cryed out, and harrowe in the strete The neyghbours, both smal and grete In ronne, for to gauren on thys man That a swoune lay, palyshe and wan For with that fal brosten hath he his arme But stonden he muste vnto hys owne harme For whan he spake, he was yborne adoun Wyth hende Nycholas, and Alysoun They told euery man, that he was woode He was agaste so of Noes floode Throughe fantasye, that of hys vanyte He hath getten hym knedyng tubbes thre And hath hem honged in the rofe aboue And that he prayed hem for goddes loue To sytten in the roofe par companye The folke gan laughen at his fantasye

And in to the roofe they kyken and they gape And turned al hys ernest in to a iape For what so this carpenter answerde It was for naught, no man his reason herde With othes great, he was ysworne adowne For eueryche clerke anon helde with other They said y^e mā was wood, my leue brother And euery wyght gan laughen at this strife. ¶Thus swyued was the carpenters wyfe For al hys kepyng, and hys ielousye And Absolon hath kyst her neyther eye And Nycholas is skalded in the toute Thys tale is done, & God saue al the route.

¶Here endeth the Myllers tale, and here after foloweth the Reues Prologue.

WHan folke had laughed at thys nyce caas Of Absolon & hende Nycolas Dyuers folke dyuersly they sayde But for the more parte they loughe & playde Ne at thys tale I sawe no man hym greue But it were onely Oswolde the reue Bycause he was of carpenters crafte A lytel yre in hys herte ylafte He gan to grutchen and blamen it a lyte Sothly quod he, ful wel couthe I y^e quyte Wyth bleryng of a proude myllers eye If that me lyst to speke of rybaudrye But eke I am olde, me lust not play for age Grasse tyme is done, my fodder is forage This whyte toppe writeth myne olde yeres For sōtyme yolow was, now white bē myn heres But yet I fare as doth an open ers That ylke frute is euer lenger the wers Tyl it be ••otten in molloke, or in stre we olde men, I dreden so fare we Tyl we be rotten can we not be rype we hoppē alway, while the world wol pype For in our wyl there styketh euer a nayle To haue an hore heed and a grene tayle As hath a leke, for though ourmight be gone Our wyl desyreth folye euer in one For whā we may not don, thā wol we spekē Yet in our asshen olde, is fyre yreken. ¶Four gledes han we, whiche I shal deuyse Auauntyng, lyeng, angre, and couetyse These four sparkles longen on to elde Our olde lymmes mowe wel ben vnwelde But wyl ne shal not fayle, that is sothe And yet haue I alway a coltes tothe As many a yere as it is passed henne Syn that my tappe of lyfe began to renne For sikerly, whan I was borne anone Dethe drowe the tappe of lyfe, & let it gone And euer syns hath the tappe yronne Tyl that almost al empty is the tonne The streme of life now droppeth on y^e chimb The sely tonge may wel ringe and clymb Of wretchednesse, that passed is ful yore with olde folke saue dotage is no more ¶whan y^t our host had herde this sermoning He gan to speke as lordly as a kyng And sayd: what amounteth al thys wytte? what shal we speke al day of holy wrytte? The dyuel made a Reue to preche Or a souter a shypman, or a leche. Say forthe thy tale, and tary nat the tyme Lo Depforde, and it is halfe way pryme Lo Grenewyche, that many a shrewe is in It were tyme thy tale for to begyn ¶Nowe sirs quod this Oswolde the Reue I pray you al, that ye not you greue That I answere, and somdele set hys house For leful it is with force, force of shoufe This dronken myller hath ytolde vs here Howe that begyled was a carpentere Parauenture in skorne, for I am one And by your leaue, I shal hym quyte anone Ryght in his churles termes wol I speke I pray to God hys necke mote breke He can wel in myne eye sene a stalke But in his owne he can not sene a balke

¶Here endeth the Reues Prologue.

[illustration]

¶Here begynneth the Reues tale.

AT Trompynton, not far fro Cambridge Ther gothe a broke, and ouer that a bridge Vpon the whyche broke ther stant a mell And this is very sothe, as I you tel A myller was there dwellyng many a day As any pecocke he was proude and gay Pypen he couthe, and fysshen, & nettes bete And turne cuppes, & wel wrastle and shere Aye by hys belte he bare a longe pauade And of a sworde ful trenchaunt was y^e blade A ioly popere bare he in hys pouche Ther was no mā for peryl durst hym touche A Shefelde thwytel bare he in hys hose Roūde was his face, & camysed was his nose As pylled as an ape was hys skull He was a market beater at the full There durst no wyght honde on him ledge But he ne swore he shulde abedge A these he was for sothe, of corne and mele And that a slye, and vsaunt for to stele His name was hoten deynous Symkyn A wyfe he had, comen of noble kyn The parson of the towne her father was with her he yafe ful many a panne of bras For that Symkym shulde in his bloode alye She was yfostred in a nonnerye For Symken wolde no wyfe, as he sayde But she were wel ynourisshed, and a mayde To sauen hys astate of yomanrye And she was proude, and perte as a pye A ful fayre syght was it vpon hem two On holy dayes byforne her wolde he go with hys typet wounden aboute his heed And she came after in a gyte of reed And Symken had hosen of the same There durst no wyght clepen her but dame was none so hardy, that wente by the way That with her ones durst rage or play But yf he wolde be slayne of Symkyn with pauade, or with knyfe, or bodkyn For ielous folkes ben perillous euermo Algates they wolde her wyues wende so And eke for she was somdele smoterlyche She was as dygne as water in a dyche And as ful of hoker, and of besmare As thoughe that a lady shulde her spare what for her kyndred, and her nortelrye That she had lerned in the nonnerye. ¶A doughter had they bytwyxt hem two Of twenty yere, withouten any mo Sauyng a chylde y^t was of halfe yere of age In cradell it lay, and was a propre page This wenche thicke and wel ygrowen was wyth camysed nose, and eyen gray as glas

with buttockes brode, & brestes rounde & hye But right fayre was her heare, I wol not lie The parson of y^e town, for she was so fayre In purpose was to maken her hys heyre Bothe of hys catell, and hys mesuage And straunge he made it of her maryage Hys purpose was to be stowen her hye Into some worthy blode of auncetry For holy churches good mote ben dispended Oh holy churches blode that is discended Therfore he wolde, hys holy blode honour Though that he holy churche shulde deuour ¶Great soken hath this Myller out of dout with whete and malte, of all the londe about And namely ther was a great college Men clepen it the Solere hall of Cambrege Ther was her whete, & eke her malt igroūde And on a day it happed in a stounde Sicke lay the Manciple, on a malady Men wenden wisely that he shulde dye For which this myller stale both whete and corn An hundred tyme more than besorn For there before, he stale but curteysly But nowe he was a thefe outrageously For wiche the warden chydde and made fare But therof sette the Myller nat a tare He craked, bosted, and swore it nas nat so Thā were there yonge poore scholers two That dwelten in the hall, of whiche I say Testife they were, and lusty for to play And onely for her myrthe, and her reuelrye Vpon the warden bestly they crye To yeue hem leaue, but a lytel stounde To gon to my••, to sene her corne ygrounde And hardely they durst lay her necke The myller shuld not steale hem half a pecke Of corne by sleyght, ne by force hem reue. And at the last the warden yaue hem leue Iohan hight that one, & Aleyn hight y^e other Of o town they were both, y^t hight Strother Farre in the northe, can I not tel where. This Aleyn maketh al redy his gere And on a horse, the sacke he caste anon Forthe goth Aleyn the clerke, and also Iohn With good sworde and bockeler by her syde Iohn knewe the way, hym nedeth no gyde And at the myl dore the sacke down he layth ¶Aleyn spake first: al hayle Symkē in fayth Howe fares thy fayre doughter, & thy wyfe? Aleyn welcom (quod Symken) by my lyfe And Iohn also: how now? what do ye here? By god Simōd ({quod} Iohn) nede has no pere Him behoueth serue him selfe y^t has no swain Or els he is a fole, as clerkes sayne Our Manciple I hope he wyl be deed Swa werkes aye the wanges in his heed And therfore is I come, and eke Alayne To grynde our corne & cary it home agayne We pray you spede vs heme in that ye may It shalbe don, quod Symkyn, be my fay what wol ye don, while it is in hande By god, ryght by the hopper wol I stande Quoth Iohn: & sen how gates y^e corne goth in Yet sawe I neuer by my father kyn Howe that the hopper wagges to and fra Alayne answerd: Iohan wylte thou sa Than wol I be byneth by my crowne And se howe the mele falles adowne Into the troughe, that shalbe my disporte Quoth Iohan, in fay I may ben one of your sorte I is as ill a myllere as is ye. This Myller smyleth at her nycite And thought al nys done but for a wyle They w••ne that no man may hem begyle But by my thryfte, yet shal I blere her eye For al the sleyght in her philosofye The more queynte clerkes that they make The more wol I steale whan I take In stede of floure yet wol I gyue hem brēne The greatest clerkes ben not the wysest men As whilom to the wolfe spake the Mare Of al her arte counte I not a tare. ¶Out at the dore he gothe ful priuely Whan that he sawe his tyme, subtelly He loked vp & downe, tyl he had yfounde The clerkes horse, there as he stode ybounde Behynde the Mylle, vnder a lessel And to the horse he gothe him fayre and wel He strypeth of the bridel ryght anon. And whā y^e horse was loce, he gan to gon Towarde the fen, there wylde mares rynne And forth w^t wehe, through thicke & thynne The myller gothe agayne, no worde he saide But doth his note, & w^t these clerkes playde Tyl y^t her corne was fayre & wel ygrounde And whan the meale was sacked & ybounde This Iohn goth out, & fonde her hors away And gan to crye, harowe and welaway Our horse is loste Aleyne for goddes banes Steppe on thy fete mā, come forth al atanes Alas our wardeyn has hys palfray lorne. ¶This Aleyn al forgate bothe mele & corne Al was out of mynde hys husbondrye what, whylke way is he gon? he gan to crye.

The wyfe came leapyng inwarde at a rene She sayd alas, he gothe to the fenne with wylde mares, as faste as he may go Vnthāke come on hys honde, y^t bonde him so And he y^t better shulde haue knyt the reyne. Alas {quod} Iohn, Aleyn for Christes peyne Lay downe thy swerde, & I shal myn alswa I is ful swyfte God wafe as is a raa By goddes sale he shal not skape vs bathe? why ne haddest thou put the capel in y^e lathe? Il heyle Aleyn by god thou is a fonne. ¶These sely clerkes han ful faste yronne Towarde the fenne, Aleyn and eke Iohn And whan the myller sawe y^t they were agō He halfe a busshel of her floure hath take And bade hys wyfe knede it in a kake He sayd, I trowe the clerkes were a ferde Yet can a myller make a clerkes berde For al her arte, yet let hem gon her way Lo where they gon, let the chyldren play They get him not so lightly by my crowne These sely clerkes rennen vp and downe With kepe kepe, iossa wartherere Ga whystle thou, and I sal kepe hym here But shortly, tyl it was very nyght They couth not though they did al her might Her caple catche, he ran away so faste Tyl in a dyche they caught hym at the laste ¶••ery and wete, as beestes in the rayne Cometh sely Iohn, & w^t hym cometh Alayn Alas (quod Iohn) the day that I was borne Nowe are we dryuen to hethē and to skorne Our corne is stole, men wol vs fooles cal Bothe the warden, and our felowes al And namely the myller, waylaway Thus playneth Iohn, as he gothe by y^t way Towarde the myll, & bayarde in his honde The myller syttyng by the fyre he fonde For it was night & ferther might they nought But for the loue of god they hym besought Of herbrough and ease, as for her peny ¶The myller said ayen, if there ben any Suche as it is, yet shal ye haue your part My house is strayte, but ye haue lerned art Ye can by argument make a place A myle brode, of twenty foote of space Let se nowe yf thys place may suffyse Or make it rōmer w^t speche, as is your gyse Now Symōd (said Iohn) by saint Cutberde Aye is thou mery, & that is fayre answerde I haue herd sai, mē shuld takē of twa thīges Swylk as he fyndes or swilke as he bringes But specially I pray the hoste dere Get vs some meate & drinke, & make vs chere And we wyl pay trewly at the ful With empty honde, men may no haukes tul Lo here our syluer redy for to spende. The myller to y^e towne his doughter sende For ale and breed, and rosted hem a goos & bounde her hors he shulde no more go loos And in his own chambre he made a bedde With shetes & with chalons fayre yspredde Not from his owne bedde, ten fote or twelue Hys doughter had a bedde al by her selue Right in the same chambre, by and by It myght be no bette, and the cause why. Ther was no rowmer herbrowe in y^t place They soupen, & they speken of myrth & solace And dronken euer stronge ale at beste Aboute mydnight went they to reste. ¶Wel hath this myller vernyshed his heed Ful pale he was for dronken, & nothyng reed He galpeth, and he speketh through his nose As he were in the quacke, or in the pose To bedde he gothe, and with him his wyfe As any Iay was she lyght and iolyfe So was her ioly whystel wel ywette The cradell at the beddes fete was sette To rocken, and to yeue the chylde to souke And whan y^t dronken was al in the crouke To bedde went the daughter ryght anon To bedde gothe Aleyn and eke Iohn There nas no more, hem neded no dwale This myller hath so wisely bybbed ale That as an horse he snorteth in hys slepe Ne of hys tayle behynde he toke no kepe His wyfe bare to hym a bordon wel strong Men might hem here route a forlonge. The wenche routeth eke par company. ¶Aleyn the clerke, that herde this melody He poked on Iohn, & saide slepest thou? Herdest thou euer swylke a sange er nowe Lo Nuylke a couplyng is ytwyxt hem all A wylde fyre on her bodyes fal, Who herde euer swylke a ferly thyng? Ye, they shal haue the floure of yuel endyng Al this lange nyght tydes me no reste But yet naforce, al shal be for the beste For Iohan (sayd he) as euer mote I thriue, If that I may, yon wenche wol I swyue Some esement hath lawe shapen vs For Iohn there is a lawe that saythe thus That yf a man in one poynte ben a greued That in an other he shal be releued

Our corne is stolne, sothly it is no nay And we haue had an yuel fyt to day And syn I shal haue none amendement Agayne my losse I wyl haue myn esement By goddes sale, it shal none other be. ¶Thys Iohan answerde: Aleyn, auyse the The myller is a peryllous man, he sayde And yf that he out of his slepe abrayde He myght don vs bathe a vilonye. Aleyn answerd: I coūt him not worth a fly And vp he ryste, and by the wenche he crept. This wenche lay vpright, and faste slept Tyl he so nye was, er she myght aspye That it had ben to late for to crye And shortly for to sayne, they were at on Now play Aleyn, for I wol speke of Iohn. This Iohn lay styl a forlonge way or two And to hym selfe he maketh routh and wo Alas ({quod} he) this is a wycked iape Nowe may I say, I is but an ape Yet hath my felowe somwhat for his harme He hath the myllers doughter in hys arme He auntreth hym, and hath hys nede yspedde And I lye as a draffe sacke in my bedde And whan this iape is tolde a nother dey I shal be holde a daffe, or a cokeney I wol aryse, and auntre me it by my fay Vnhardy is vnsely, thus men say. And vp he cose, and softely he wente Vnto the cradel, and in his arme it hent And bare it softely to his beddes fete Sone after the wyfe her routyng lete And gan awake, and went her out to pysse And came agayn, & gan the cradell mysse And groped here & there, but she foūde none Alas ({quod} she) I had almoste mysgone I had almost gone to the clerkes bedde Eye benedycite, than had I foule yspedde And forthe she gothe, tyl she the cradel fonde She gropeth alway further with her honde And founde y^e bedde, & thought nat but good Bycause that the cradel by it stode And nyste where she was, for it was derke But fayre & wel she crepte in by the clerke And lyeth ful stil, & wold haue caught a slepe within a while this Iohn the clerke vp lepe And on this good wyfe he layde ful sore So mery a fyt had she nought ful yore And pricked harde & depe, as he were madde This ioly lyfe haue these two clerkes ladde Tyl that the thyrde cocke began to syng. ¶Aleyn waxe wery in the dawnyng For he had swonken al the longe nyght And sayd, farwel Malyn swete wyght The day is comen, I may no lenger byde But euermo, where so I go or ryde I am thyn owne clerke, so haue I hele. Nowe dere lemman ({quod} she) go, farwele But or thou go, one thyng I wol the tell Whā thou wendest homwarde by the Mell Ryght at the entre of the dore behynde Thou shalt a cake of halfe a busshel fynde That was ymaked of thyn owne mele Whiche that I helpe my syre to stele And good lemman god the saue and kepe And with y^t worde she gan almoste to wepe. ¶Aleyn vprist, and thought er it dawe He wolde go crepen in by his felawe And founde the cradel with his honde anon By god thought he, al wronge haue I gon My heed is totty of my swynke to nyght That maketh me that I go not aryght I wot wel that by y^e cradel I haue mysse go Here lyeth the Myller and hys wyfe also And forthe he gothe on twenty dyuel way Vnto the bedde, there as the myller lay He wende haue cropen by his felowe Iohn And by the Myller he crepte in anon And caught hym by the necke, & soft he spake And sayd: Iohan, thou swynesheed awake For Christes soule, and here a noble game For by that lorde, that called is saynt Iame As I haue thrise in this shorte nyght Swyued the myllers doughter bolt vpright whyles thou haste, as a cowarde ben agaste. Ye false harlot (quod the myller) haste A false traytour, false clerke (quod he) Thou shalte be deed by goddes dignyte who durste be so bolde to disparage My doughter, that is come of suche lynage And by the throte bolle he caught Alayn And he him hent dispytously agayne And on the nose he smote him with his fest Downe ran the blode streme vpon his brest And in the flore, wyth mouthe & nose ybroke They walowen, as dothe pygges in a poke And vp they gon, and downe ayen anone Tyl that the myller spurnde on a stone And downe he fyl backwarde vpon his wyfe That wyste nothyng of this nyce stryfe For she was fal a slepe a lytel wyght with Iohn the clerke, y^t waked had alnyght And with the fal, out of her slepe she brayde Helpe holy crosse of Bromholme she sayde

In manus tuas, lorde to the I cal Awake Symonde, the fende is on me fal My herte is broken, helpe I am but deed There lieth one on my wombe & on my heed Helpe Symkyn, for these false clerkes fyght This iohn stert vp, as fast as euer he might And graspeth by the walles to and fro To fynde a staffe, and she stert vp also And knewe the e••tres bet thā dyd this Iohn And by the wal she founde a staffe anon And sawe a lytel shemeryng of a light For at an hole in shone the moone bright And by that lyght she sawe hem bothe two But sykerly she nyste who was who But as she sey a whyte thyng in her eye And whan she gan this whyte thyng aspye She wende the clerke had weared a voluper And w^t the staffe she drowe alway ner & ner And wende haue hyt this Aleyn at ful And smote the myller on the pylled skul That down he gothe, & cryed, harowe I dye These clerkes bete hym wel, and let hym lye And arayeth hem, and toke her horse anon And eke her meale, and on her way they gon And at the mylle dore they toke her cake Of halfe a bushel floure, wel ybake. Thus is the proude myller wel ybete And hath ylost the gryndyng of the whete And payde for the supper euery dele Of Aleyn and of Iohan, that bete hym wele Hys wyfe is swyued, and his doughter als Lo suche it is a Myller to be fals And therfore this prouerbe is ful sothe Hym dare not wel wene that yuel dothe A gylour shal hym selfe begyled be And god that sytte hye in maieste Saue al this company, great and smale Thus haue I quyt the myller in his tale.

¶Here endeth the Reues tale, and here foloweth the Cokes prologue.

THe Coke of London, whyle that the Reue spake For ioye hym thought he claude hym on the bake A ha ({quod} he) for Christes passyon This myller hath a sharpe conclusyon Vpon his argument of herby gage Wel sayd Salomon in hys langage Ne bryng not euery man in to thyn hous For herbrowyng by nyght is perelous Wel ought a man auysed for to be Whom that he brought in to hys pryuete I pray to god so yeue me sorowe and care If euer sythen I hyght Hodge of ware Herde I myller bette ysette awerke He had a iape of malyce in the derke. But god forbyd that we stynten here And therfore yf ye vouche safe to here A tale of me, that am a poore man I wol you tel as wel as I can A lytel iape, that fel in our cyte

¶Our host sayd, syr a graunte it the Nowe tel on Rodger, loke that it be good For many a pasty haste thou letten blood And many a Iacke of Douer hast thou solde That hath be twyse hotte and twyse colde Of many a pilgrym hast thou Christes curse For of thy parsse yet fare they the worse That they haue eaten wyth thy stobel goos For in thy shoppe is manye a slye loos Nowe tel on gentle Rogere by thy name But yet I pray the be not wrothe for game A man may say ful sothe in game and play.

¶Thou sayst ful sothe ({quod} Roger) by my say But soth play, quade play, as y^e sleming saith And therfore Henry Baylly by thy fayth Be thou not wrothe, or we departen here Though that my tale ben of an hostelere But nathelesse, I wol not tellen it yet But er we parte, ywys thou shalte be quyt And therwithal he lough and made chere And sayd his tale, as ye shullen after here.

¶Here endeth the Cokes prologue, and here fo¦loweth hys tale.

[illustration]

APrentise whilom dwelte in our cyte And of the crafte of vitaylers was he Galiard he was, as goldfynch in the shawe Browne as a bery, a proper shorte felawe with lockes blake, kempt ful fetously Daunce he couthe ful wel and ioltly He was called Perkyn Reuelour He was as ful of loue and paramout As is the hyue ful of hony swete wel was the wenche wyth hym might mete At euery bridal wolde he syng and hoppe He loued bette the tauernes than the shoppe For whan any ridyng was in chepe Out of the shoppe thider wolde he lepe Tyl that he had al the syght iseyn And daunced wel, he wolde not come ageyn And gather hym a meyny of hys sorte To hop and syng, and make suche disporte And there they setten steuyn for to mete To playen at the dise in suche a strete For in the cyte nas there no prentise That fayrer couthe casten a payre of dise Than Perken couthe, and therto he was fre Of his dispence, in place of priuyte That founde his maister wele in his chafare For oftymes he founde his bore ful bare For sikerly, a prentise reuelour That haunteth dise, riotte, or paramour His maister shal it in hys shoppe abye Al haue he no parte of the mynstralcy For thefte and riotte, they ben conuertible Al can he play on gettron or on ribible Reuel and trouthe, as in lowe degre They ben ful wrothe al day, as men may se This ioly prentise, with his mayster abode Tyl he were nye out of his prentishode Al were he snybbed bothe early and late And somtyme ledde with reuel to Newgate But at the last, his maister him be thought Vpon a day, whan he hys paper sought Of a prouerbe, that saith this same worde welbette is rotten apple out of horde Than that it rote al the remenaunt So fareth it by a riottous seruaunt It is moche lesse harme to let him passe Than he shende al the seruaūtes in the place Therfore his maister gaue hym a quitaunce And badde him go, w^t sorowe & myschaunce And thus this ioly prentise had his leue Nowe lette hym riot al the nyght or leue And for there is no thefe without a louke That helpeth hym to waste or to souke Of that he bribe can, or borowe may Anon he sent hys bedde and hys array Vnto a compere of hys owne sorte That loued dice, reuel, and disporte And had a wyfe, that helde for countenaunce A shoppe, and swyued for her sustenaunce.

¶Here endeth the Cokes tale, & here foloweth the man of lawes prologue.

OVr hoste saw wel, that the bright sonne The arke of hys artifyciall daye hath ronne The fourthe parte, & halfe an hour more And though he were not depe expert in lore He wyste it was the eyghtene day Of Apryl, that is the messanger to May And sawe wel, that the shadowe of euery tre Was as in lengthe, the same quantyte As was the body erecte, that caused it And therfore by the shadowe he roke his wit That Phebus, whiche y^t shone clere & bright Degrees was fourty clomben of hyght And for that daye, as in latitude It was ten of the clocke, he gan conclude And sodaynly he plight hys horse aboute. ¶Lordynges ({quod} he) I warne you al y^e route The fourthe parte of thys day is gon Now for the loue of God and of saynt Iohn Leseth no tyme, as ferforth as ye may Lordinges the tyme wasteth both night and day And stealeth from vs, what priuely slepyng And what through negligēce in our wakyng As doth y^e streme, that turneth neuer agayn Discendynge fro the moūtayne in to y^e playn Wel can Seneke, and many a phylysofre By waylen tyme, more than golde in cofre For losse of catel may recouered be But losse of tyme shendeth vs ({quod} he) It wol not come ayen withouten drede No more than wol Malkyns maydenhede Whan she hath loste it in her wantonnesse Let vs not mowlen thus in ydelnesse. Syr man of lawe ({quod} he) so haue I blys Tel vs a tale anon, as forwarde is Ye ben submytted, through your fre assent To stonden in this case at my iugement Aquyteth you now of your beheste Than haue ye done your deuer at the leste. ¶Hoste ({quod} he) de pardeuxied assent To breke forwarde is not myn entent Byheste is dette, and I wol holde fayne Al my behest, I can no better sayne For such law as a mā yeueth an other wight He shulde hym selue vsen it by ryght Thus wol our text: But natheles certayne I can right now no thrifty tale sayne That Chaucer (though he can but leudly On metres and in rymyng craftely) Hath sayd hem, in suche Englysshe as he can Of olde tyme, as knoweth many a man And yf he haue not sayd hem leue brother In one boke, he hath sayd hem in another For he hath tolde of louers vp and doun Mo than Ouyde made of mencioun In his Epystels, that ben ful olde what shuld I tellē hem, sythen they ben tolde In youthe he made of syxe al a lone And sythen he hath spoken of euerychone These noble wyues, and these louers eke who so that wol hys large volume seke Cleped the sayntes lyues of Cupyde There may he se the large woundes wyde Of Lucresse, and of Babylon Thisbe The swerde of Dydo for the false Enee The tre of Phillis for her Demophoon The playnte of Deianire, and of Hermyon Of Artadna, and of Hysiphilee The ba••ayne yle stondyng in the see That dreynte Lyandre for his Hero The teares of Heleyn, and eke the wo Of Brisets, and of Laodomia The crueltie of quene Media The lytel chyldren hongyng by the hals For the Iason, that was of loue so fals Of Hypermistra, Penelope, and Alceste Your wyfehode he cōmendeth with the beste But certaynly no worde ne writeth he Of thylke wycked ensample of Canace That loued her owne brother synfully Of suche cursed stories I say fy Or els of Tyro Appolloneus Howe that the cursed kyng Antyocus Byrafte his doughter of her maydenhede That is so horrible a tale for to rede whan he her drewe vpon the pament And therfore he of ful auisement Nolde neuer write in uon of hys sermons Of suche vnkynde abhominations Ne I ne wol non reherce, yef that I may But of my tale howe shal I don thys day Me were lothe be lykened doutles To Muses, that men clepeth Piryades Methamorphoseos wotte what I mene But natheles I reche not a bene Though I come after hym with Haubake I speke in prose, and let hym rymes make And with that worde, he with a sobre chere Began hys tale, as ye shullen after here.

¶Here endeth the man of lawes Prologue, and here fo¦loweth hys tale.

[illustration]

O Hateful harme, condyciō of pouert. With thurst, with colde, with hūgre so cōfoūded To asken helpe, the sha∣meth in thyn hert If thou non aske, w^t nede thou art so wounded that very nede vnwrapeth al thy woūdes hid Maugry thyn heed, thou must for indygence Or stele, or begge, or borowe thy dispence

Thou blamest Christ, and sayest ful bytterly He misdeparteth rychesse temporall Thy neyghbour thou wytest synfully And sayest, tyou haste to lytel, & he hath all Parfay, sayst thou, somtyme he reken shall whan that his tayle shal brenne in glede For he nought helpeth nedeful in her nede

Herken what is the sentence of the wyse Better is to dyen, than to haue indygence Thyne selfe neygbour wol the dispyse If thou be poore, farwel thy reuerence Yet of the wyse man take thys sentence Al the dayes, poore men ben wycke Beware therfore or thou come to the pricke

If thou be poore, thy brother hateth the And al thy frendes fleeth fro the, alas O ryche marchauntes ful of wele be ye O noble prudent folke, as in this caas Your bagges ben not fylde with ambes aas But w^t cyse synke, y^t renneth for your chaūce At Christenmasse, mery may ye daunce

Ye seken loude & see for your wynnynges As wyse folke ye knowen al the state Of reignes, ye ben fathers of tidynges And tales, bothe of peace and debate I was right nowe of tales desolate Nere that a marchant, gone is many a yere Me taught a tale, whiche ye shullen here.

IN Surrey whilō dwelte a company Of chapmen rych, and therto sad and trewe That wyde were senten her spicery Clothes of golde, and satten ryche of hewe Her chafare was so thryfty and so newe That euery wight hath deyntie to chafare Wyth hem, and eke to sellen hem her ware

Nowe fel it, that the maisters of that sorte Han shapen hem, to Rome for to wende Were it for chapmanhode, or for disporte Nō other messangere wold the thyder sende But comē hem selfe to Rome, thys is y^e ende And in suche place as thought hē auauntage For her entent, they taken her herbygage

Soiourned hā these marchaūtes in y^e town Certayne tyme, as fel to her pleasaunce But so byfel, that the excellent renowne Of the emperours doughter dame Custaūce Reported was, with euery cyrcumstaunce Vnto these surreyn marchaūtes, in such wise Fro day to day, as I shal you deuyse

This was the comen voyce of euery man Our emperour of Rome, god hym se A doughter hath, y^t sythen the worlde began To rekē as wel her goodnesse as her beaute Nas neuer suche a nother as is she I pray to god in honour her sustene And wolde she were of al Europe the quene

In her is hye beautie, without pride Youthe, without grenhede or folye To al her werkes vertu is her gyde Humblesse hath slayne in her al tyrannye She is a myrrour of al curtesye Her herte is very chambre of holynesse Her honde mynistre of fredom and almesse

And al this voyce was soth, as god is trew But now to our purpose let vs turne agayn These marchātes han dō fret her ships new And whā they han this blisful mayden seyn Home to Surrey ben they went ageyn And done her nedes, as they han done yore And lyuen in welth, I can say no more.

Now fel it, y^t these marchātes stodē in grace Of hym that was the Soudon of Surrye For whā y^t they came frō any straunge place He wolde of hys benygne curtesye Maken hem good chere, & besyly aspye Tydynges of sondry realmes for to lere The wonders that they might seen or here

Amonge other thynges specially These marchantes haue hym tolde of dame Custaunce So gret noblesse, in ernest ceryously That this Soudō hath cauʒt so great plesāce To han her fygure in hys remembraunce And al his luste, and al hys besy cure was for to loue her, whyle his lyfe may dure

Parauenture in that ylke large boke Which that cleped is the heuē, twritten was with sterres, whan that he his byrthe toke That he for loue shulde han his dethe, alas For in the sterres, clerer than is the glas Is written god wot, who so coude it rede The dethe of euery man withouten drede

In sterres many a wynter there byfore was written the deth of Hector & of Achilles Of Pompey and Iulius, or they were bore The stryfe of Thebes, and of Hercules Of Sampson, Turnus, and of Socrates The dethe: but that mens wyttes ben so dull That no wyght can wel rede it at the full

This Soudō for his priue counsayle sene And shortly of thys mater for to pace He hath to hem declared al hys entent And said hē certain, but yf he might haue gra¦ce To haue Custaūce, withyn a lytel space He nas but deed, and charged hem to hye To shapen for his lyfe some remedye.

Diuers men, diuersly they sayden The argument they casten vp and doun Many a subtell reason forthe they layden They speken of Magike, and abusyoun But finally, as in conclusyoun They can not seen in that non auauntage Ne in non other way, saue in maryage

Than sawe they therin suche difficulte By way of reason, to speke al playne Bycause that there was suche diuersyte Bitwene her bothe lawes, that they sayne They trow y^t no christen prince wolde fayne wedden hys chylde vnder our lawes swete That vs was taught, by Mahounde our pro¦phete

And he answerde: rather than I lese Custaunce, I wol be christen doutels I mote ben hers, I may non other chese I pray you holde your argumentes in pees Saueth my lyfe, and be not recheles To getten her, that hath my lyfe in cure For in thys wo, I may not long endure

what nedeth greater delatatyon I say, by treatie and ambassadrye And by the popes meditation And al the chirche, and al the cheualry That in distruction of Maumetry And in encrease of Christes lawe dere They ben accorded, as ye shal here.

Howe that the Soudon and his baronage And al hys lieges, shulde ichristned be And he shal han Custaunce in mariage And certayne golde, I not what quantite And her to fynde sufficient surete The same accord was sworne on eyther syde Now fayre Custaūce, almyghty god y^e gyde

Nowe woldē som men waiten, as I gesse That I shulde tellen al the purueyaunce That the Emperour of hys noblesse Hath shapen for hys daughter dame Custāce Wel may men knowē, that so gret ordynāce May no man tellen in a lytell clause As was arayde for so hyghe a cause

Bishoppes ben shapē with her for to wēde Lordes and ladies, and knightes of renown And other folke ynowe, this is the ende And notifyed is throughout the town That euery wight, with great deuotioun Shulde pray Chryst, that he this mariage Receyue in gree, and spede this voyage

The day is come of her departyng I say the woful day natural is come That there may be no lengre tarieng But forwarde they hem dresse al and some Custaunce, that with sorowe is al ouercome Ful pale arist, and dressheth her to wende For wel she sey, there is non other ende

Alas, what wondre is it though she wept That shal be sent to a straunge nation Fro frendes, that so tenderly her kept And to be bounden vnder subiectyon Of one, she knoweth not his condityon Husbondes ben al good and han ben yore That knowen wyues, I dare say no more

Father (she said) thy wretched child custāce Thy yonge daughter, fostred vp so softe And ye my mother, my soueraigne pleasance Ouer al thyng (out take Christ on lofte) Custaunce your child her cōmaundeth ofte Vnto your grace: for I shal to Surrye Ne shal I neuer more se you with eye

Alas, vnto the Barbary nation I must anon, sithen it is your wyl But Christ that starfe for our redemption So yeue me grace, his hestes to fulfyl I wretched womā no force though I spyll women are borne to thraldom and penaūce And to ben vnder mannes gouernaunce

I trow at Troy, whā Thurus brake y^e wal Of Ilyon, ne whan brente was Thebes cite Ne Rome for the harme of Hanybal That Romayns hath inēqueshed tymes thre Nas herde, suche tendre wepyng for pyte As was in the chambre for her departyng But forth she mote, wheder she wepe or syng

O fyrst mouyng cruel firmament Wyth thy diurnal swegh, that croudest aye And hurtleste al fro Eft to Occident That naturally wolde holde another way Thy croudyng set the heuen in suche array At the begynnyng of this feirs voyage That cruel Mars hath slayne this maryage

O infortunate assendent tortuous Of whiche the lorde is helpelesse fal, alas Out of hys angle, into his derkest house O Mars, O occiser, as in thys caas O feble Moue, vnhappy ben thy paas Thou knittest y^t there thou nart not receyued Ther thou were wel, fro thēce art y^u wayued

Imprudent emperour of Rome, alas was there no philosofer in thy towne? Is no tyme bette than other in suche cas? Of voiage, is there none electiowne? Namely to folke of hye conditioun Nat whan a rote is of a byrthe iknowe Alas we ben to leude, or to slowe

To ship is brought this woful faire mayd Solempnely, with euery cyrcumstaunce Nowe Iesu Christ be with you al (she sayd) Ther nys no more, but fare wel fair Custāce She payneth her to make good countenaūce And forthe I let her sayle in this manere And tourne I wol agayne to my matere.

¶Explicit prima pars: et sequitur pars secunda.

THe mother of the Soudon, wel of vices Aspyed hathe her sonnes playne entent Howe he 〈◊〉〈◊〉 lete hys olde sa¦crifyces And right anon, she for her counsayle sent And they ben comen, to know what she ment And whan assembled was thys folke in fere She sette her down, & sayd, as ye shal here.

Lordes (quod she) ye knowen euerichone Howe that my sonne is in poynt to lete The holy lawes of our Alkaron Yeuen by goddes messangere Machomete But one auowe to grete God I hete The lyfe shal rather out of my body stert Or Machomettes lawe go out of my hert

What shulde vs tyden of thys newe lawe But thraldome to our bodies and penaunce And afterwarde in hel to ben drawe For we reneyed Mahounde our creaunce? But lordes, wol ye make assuraunce As I shal say, assentyng to my lore And I shal make vs safe for euermore

They sworen, and assenten euery man To lyue with her and dye, and by her stonde And eueriche in the best wise that he can To strengthen her, shal his frendes fonde And she hath this emprise take in honde Whiche ye shal here, that I shal deuise And to hem al she spake in thys wyse.

we shul vs fyrst fayne, christendom to take Colde water shal not greue vs but a lyte And I shal suche a reuel and a feest make That as I trowe, I shal the Soudon quyte For tho his wife be christened neuer so white She shal haue nede to washe away the rede Though she a fonte ful of water w^t her lede

O Soudonnesse, rote of iniquite Virago, thou Symyram the secounde O serpent vnder femenynete I lyke to the serpent depe in hell ybounde O fayned woman, al that may counfounde Vertu and innocence, throug thy malyce Is bredde in the, a nest of euery vyce.

O Sathan enuyous, syn thylke day That thou were chased from our herytage wel knewest thou to women the olde way Thou madest Eue to bryng vs in seruage Thou wolte fordone this christen maryage Thyne instrument, so welaway the whyle Makest thou of womē, whā thou woltbegile

This Soudonesse, whō I blame & wery Let priuely her counsayle gon her way what shulde I in this tale lenger tarye? She rydeth to the Soudon on a day And sayd hym, that she wolde renye her lay And christendom of prestes hondes fonge Repentyng her, she hethen was so longe

Besechyng hym, to done her that honour That she might haue y^e Christē folke to feste To plesen hem, I wol don my labour The Soudō saythe, I wol don at your heste And knelyng, thanketh her of that requeste So glad he was, he nyst not what to say She kist her sonne, & home she goth her way

Aryued ben these christen folke to londe In Surre, with a great Solempne route And hastely this Soudon sent his sonde Fyrst to his mother, & al the reygne aboute And sayd, hys wyfe was comen out of doute And praydē hem for to ryden ayenst y^e quene The honoure of hys reygne for to sustene

Great was the prese, & ryche was the raye Of Surreyens, and Romayns ymette yfere The mother of the Soudon, ryche and gay Receyueth her with al glad chere As any mother myght her doughter dere Vnto the next cyte there besyde A softe paas solempnely they ryde

Nought trowe I, the triumphe of Iulyus Of whiche that Lucan maketh suche a bost was royaller, and more curious Than was thassemblyng of this blisful host But this Scorpyon, this wycked gost The sodonnesse, for al her flatteryng Cast vnder al thys, ful mortally to styng

The Soudon cometh himselfe sone after this So ryally, that wonder is to tel He welcometh her wyth moche ioye & blys And thus in myrthe & ioye I let hem dwel The fruyte of euery tale is for to tel

When tyme come, mē thought it for the best That reuel stynte, and men gone to rest

The tyme come, this olde Soudōnesse Ordened hath y^e ferst, of whych I tolde And to the feest, christen folke hem dresse In general, both yonge and olde There may men feest and ryalte beholde And deyntes mo then I can deuyse But al to dere they boughten it or they ryse

O Soudon, wo y^t euer thou art successour To worldly blisse, springed with bytternesse The ende of ioye, of our worldly laboure wo occupyeth the ende of our gladnesse Herken thys counsayle, for thy sekernesse Vpon thy glad day haue thou in mynde The vnware wo or harm, y^t cometh behynde

For shortly for to tellen at a worde The Soudon, and the christen euerychone Ben al to hewe, and stycked at the borde But it were onely dame Custaunce alone Thys olde Soudonnesse, curled crone Hath wyth her frēdes done thys cursed dede For she her selfe wolde al the countre lede

Ne there was surreyn none y^t was cōuerted That of the coūsayle of the Soudon wot That he nas al to heawe, er he asterted And Custaūce han they taken anone fotehot And in a shyppe al sternelesse (god wot) They han her set, & bydden her lerne to sayle Out of Surrey ayenwarde to Itayle

A certayne tresour, that she thyder ladde And soth to sayne, vytayle great plente They han her yeuen, & clothes eke she had And sorth she sayled in the salte se O my custaunce ful of benignite O Emperours yonge doughter dere He that is lorde of fortune, be thy stere

She blesseth her, and w^t ful pytous voyce Vnto the crosse of Christ, tho sayd she O clere, o welful aulter, holy croice Reed of the lambes blode, ful of pyte That washe y^e worlde fro y^e olde iniquite Me fro the fende, and fro hys clawe kepe That daye that I shal drenchen in the depe.

Victorious tree, protection of trewe That onely worthy were for to bere The kynge of heuē, with hys woūdes newe The whyte lambe, that hurt was w^t a spere Flemere of fendes, out of hym and here On whych thy lymmes, faythfully extenden Me kepe, & yeue me myght my lyfe to amēdē

Yeares and dayes fleteth thys creature Thrughout y^e see of Grece, vnto the strayte Of Marocke, as it was her auenture O, many a sory mele may she bayte After her death ful ofte may she wayte Or that the wylde waues wolde her dryue Vnto the place there she shulde aryue.

Men mightē askē, why she was not slayne Eke at the feest, who myght her body saue? I answere to that demaunde agayne who saued Daniel in that horrible caue? Ther euery wyght, were he master er knaue was wyth the lyon frette or he asterte No wyght but god, that he bare in his herte

God lyst to shewe his wonderful myracle In her, for she shuld sene his mighty werkes Christ that is to euery harme tryacle By certayne meanes often, as knowē clerkes Doth thinge for certayne ende, y^t ful derke is To mans wytte, that for our ignoraunce Ne can not knowe hys prudent purueyaūce

Now syth y^t she was not at y^e feest yslawe who kepeth her fro the drenchyng in the see? who kept Ionas in the fyshes mawe Tyl he was spouted out at Neniue? wel may mē knowe, it was no wight but he That kept y^e people Ebrake from drenchyng wyth drye fete, through the see passyng

Who hath the foure spirites of y^e tempeste That power had, both to anoye lande & see Both north and south, & also west and este Anoyeth nether see, ne lande, ne tre Sothly the cōmaunder therof was he That fro y^e tempest aye thys woman kepte As wel when she woke as when she slepte

wher might this womā mete & drynke haue Thre yere & more, how lasteth her vitayle who fedde the Egipcyan Marye in the caue Or in deserte (none but Christ sans fayle) Fyue thousand folk it was as gret maruaile

With loues fyue and fysshes two to fede God sent his toyson at her great nede.

She driueth forthe in to our Occian Throughout the wylde see, tyl at the laste Vnder an holde, that nempne I ne can Fer in Northumberlōde, the waue her caste And in the sande her shyppe stycked so faste That thence nolde it not of al a tyde The wyl of Christ was y^t she shuld ther byde

The constable of the castel downe is fare To seen this wrecke, & al the shyp he sought And fonde this wery woman ful of care He founde also the tresoure that she brought In her langage, mercy she besought The lyfe out of her body for to twyn Her to delyuer of wo that she was in

A mauer latyn corrupte was her speche But algates therby was she vnderstonde The constable, whā hym lyst no lenger seche Thys woful woman brought he to londe She kneleth downe, & thāketh goddes sonde But what she was, she wolde no man sey For soule ne fayre, though she shulde dey

She sayd she was so mased in the see That she foryate her mynde, by her trouthe The constable of her hath so great pyte And eke his wyfe, that they wepen for routh She was so dyligent withouten slouthe To serue and plese eueryche in that place That al her louen, that loken in her face

The cōstable, & dame Hermegilde his wyfe Were paynems, and that cōtre euery where But Hermegylde loued her ryght as her lyfe And Custaunce hath so long soiourned there In orisons, with many a bytter tere Tyl Iesu hath conuerted through his grace Dame Hermegylde, cōstablesse of that place.

In al that londe durst no christen route Al christen folke ben fledde from that coūtre Through paynems, that conquered al about The plages of the North, by londe and see To wales fledde the christianyte Of olde Bretons, dwellyng in that Ile There was her refuge, for the meane whyle

But yet nas ther neuer christē bretō so exiled That there nas some in her priuete Honoured Christe, & heathen folke begyled And nye the castel suche there dwellen thre That one of hym was blynde, & might not se But it were with thylke eyen of his mynde with whiche men seen, after they ben blynde

Bright was the sonne, as in somers day For whiche the constable, and his wyfe also And Custaunce, han taken the ryght way Towarde the see, a furlong waye or two To playen, and to romen to and fro And in her walke, thre blynde men they met Croked and olde, with eyen faste yshette

In y^e name of Christ, cryed this blind bretō Dame hermegylde, yeue me syght agayne This lady ware a frayde of the soun Leste that her husbonde, shortly for to sayne wold her for Iesus Christes lore haue slayne Til Custāce made her bolde, & bad her werch The wyl of Christ, as doughter of his cherch

The cōstable wore abashed of that syght And sayd: what amounteth al thys fare? Custance answerde: syr it is Christes might That helpeth folke out of the fendes snare And soferforth she gan our lawe declare That she the constable, er that it was eue Cōuerted hath, & on Christ made hym bileue

This cōstable was nothing lord of this place Of which I speke, ther he Custaunce fonde But kept it strongly, many a wynter space Vnder Alla, kyng of Northumberlonde That was ful wyse, & worthy of hys honde Agayne the Scottes, as men may wel here But tourne I wol agayne to my matere.

Sathan, that euer vs wayteth to begyle Sawe of Custaunce al her perfectioun And cast anon how he might quyte her wyle And made a yong knight, y^t dwelt in the toun Loue her so hotte, of foule affectioun That verily, hym thought y^t he shulde spyll But he of her ones might haue his wyll

He woeth her, but it aueyled nought She wolde do no synne by no wey And for dispyte, he compassed in his thought To maken her on shamfull dethe to dey He wayteth whan the constable is awey

And priuely on a nyght he crepte In to Hermegildes chambre whyle she slept

Wery forwaked in her orisons Slepeth Custaunce and Hermegylde also This knight, through Sathans tēptacions Al softely is to the bedde ygo And cut the throte of Hermegylde a two And layde y^e blody knyfe by dame Custaūce And went his waye, ther god yeue him mys∣chaunce.

Sone after cometh y^e cōstable home agayne And eke Alla, that kynge was of that lande And sawe hys wyfe dyspytously yslayne For whych he wepte and wronge his hande And in the bedde the blody knyfe he fonde By dame Custāce, alas what myght she say? For very wo, her wytte was al away

To kynge Alla was tolde al this myschaūce And eke the tyme, & where, & in what wyse That in a shyppe was foūden this Custaūce As here before ye han herde me deuyse The kynges herte, for pyte gan aryse when he sawe so benygne a creature Fal in dysease and in mysaduenture

For as y^e lābe towarde hys death is brought So stante this innocent beforne the kyng This fals knight, y^t hath this tresō wrought Bereth her on hād, y^t she hath don this thing But nathelesse there was great mornyng Amonge the people, & sayd they can not gesse That she had done so great a wyckednesse

For they han sene her euer so vertuouse And louyng Hermegylde, right as her lyfe Of this bare witnesse eueryche in that house Saue he that Hermegyld slow w^t hys knyfe This gētle kyng hath caught a great motyfe Of this wytnes, & thought he wold enquere Deper in thys case, the trouth to lere

Alas Custaunce, thou hast no champion Ne fyght canst thou not, so welaway But he that starft for our redempcion And bonde Sathan, & yet lyth there he laye So be thy stronge champion thys daye For but yf Christ on the myracle kyth without gylt thou shalt be slayne aswyth

She set her doune on knees, & thus she sayde Immortal god, that sauedest Susanne Fro false blame, and thou mercyful mayde Marye I meane, doughter to saynt Anne Byforne whose chylde angels synge Osanne Yf I be gyltlesse of thys felonye My socoure be, or els shal I dye

Haue ye not sene somtyme a pale face (Amonge a prees) of hym that hath ben lad Toward his deth, wher as him get no grace And such a colour in his face hath had That mē might know his face y^t was bystad Amonges al the faces in that route So standeth Custaunce, & loketh her aboute

O quenes, lyuynge in prosperite Duchesses, and ye ladyes euerychone Haue some routh on her aduersite An emperours doughter stante alone She hath no wiʒt, to whō to make hermone O bloode royal, that stondeth in this drede Farre ben thy frendes at thy great nede

Thys Alla kyng, hath such compassioun As gentle herte is ful of pyte That from hys eyen ran the water doun Nowe hastely do fette a boke (quod he) And yf thys knyght wol swere, how that she Thys woman llowe, yet wol we vs auyse whom that we wol shal ben our iustyse

A breton boke, wrytten wyth Euangeles was fette, and theron he swore anone She gylty was, and in the meane whyles An hande hym smote on the necke bone That downe he fyl atones, as a stone And both hys eyen brast out of hys face In syght of euery body in that place

A voyce was herde, in generall audience That sayd: Thou hast dysclandred gyltles The doughter of holy chyrch, in hye presence Thus hast thou done, & yet I holde my pees Of this maruayle, agast was al the prees As dysmayde folke, they stoden euerychone For drede of wreche, saue Custaunce alone

Great was y^e drede, & eke the repentaūce Of hem that hadden wrought suspection Vpon thys sely innocent Custaunce And for thys myracle, in conclusion And by Custaunces mediation

The kynge, and many another in that place Conuerted was, thanked by goddes grace

This false knight was slayn for his vntroth By iudgement of Alla hastely And yet Custaūce, had of his death gret roth And after this, Iesus of hys mercy Made Alla wedden ful solempnely Thys holy mayde, that is so bryght & shene And thus hath christ made Custaūce a quene

But who was woful, yf I shulde not lye Of thys weddyng? but Donogelde & no mo The kynges mother, full of tyranny Her thought her cursed hert brast a two She wolde not her sonne had do so Her thought a despyte, that he shulde take So straunge a creature vnto hys make

Me lyst not of the chaffe ne of the stree Make so longe a tale, as of the corne what shulde I tel of the royalte Of y^e mariage, or whych course goth besorne who bloweth in a trompe or in an horne The frute of euery tale is for to saye They eaten and drynken, daunce and playe

They gon to bedde, as it was skyl & ryght For though y^e wyues ben ful holy thynges They must take in pacience anyght Such maner necessaries, as ben pleasynges To folke that han wedded hem with rynges And lay a lytel her holynesse asyde As for the tyme, it may none other betyde

On her he gatte a man chylde anone And to a byshoppe, and to hys constable eke He toke hys wyfe to kepe, when he is gone To Scotlandwarde, hys fo men for to seke Now fayre Custāce, y^t is so humble & meke So longe is gone wyth chylde tyl that styl She halte her chābre abyding Christes wyl

The tyme is come, a man chylde she bare Mauricius at fontstone they hym calle This constable doth forth come a messanger And wrote to hys kynge, y^t cleped was Alle Howe that thys blysful tydynge is byfal And other tydynges nedeful for to say He taketh the letter, & forth he goth his way

Thys messanger to done hys anauntage Vnto the kynges mother rydeth swythe And salueth her ful fayre in hys langage Madame (quod he) ye maye be glad & blythe And thanketh god an hūdred thousand sythe My lady quene hath chylde, wythoutē doute To ioye and blysse of all thys reygne aboute

Lo here the letters sealed of thys thynge That I mote beare, in al the hast I may Yf ye wol ought vnto your sonne the kynge I am your seruaunt both nyght and day Donegylde answerde, as at thys tyme nay But here I wol al nyght thou take thy reste To morowe wol I say the what my leste

This messāger drōke sadly both ale & wyne And stolen were hys letters priuely Out of hys bore, whyle he slepte as a swyne And counterfeted was ful subtelly Another letter, wrought ful synfully Vnto the kynge dyrecte of thys matere Fro hys constable, as ye shal after here

The letter sp••ke, the quene delyuered was Of so horrible a fendlyche creature That in the castel none so hardy was That any whyle durst therin endure The mother was an else by auenture I come, by charmes or by sorcery And euery wyght hateth her company

wo was this kyng, whē he y^t letter had seyn But to no wyght he tolde hys sorowes sore But wyth hys owne honde he wrote ageyn welcome the sonde of Christ for euermore To me, that am newe lerned in hys lore Lorde, welcome be thy lust & thy pleasaunce My iust I put al in thyne ordynaunce

Kepeth this childe, al be it foule or fayre And eke my wyfe, vnto myne home cōmyng Christ when him lyst, may sende me an heyre More agreable then thys, to my lykynge Thys letter he sealeth priuely wepynge whych to the messangere was taken sone And forth he goth, ther nys no more to done

O messanger, fulfylled of dronkennesse Strōge is thy breth, thy lymmes faltrē aye And thou bewrayest al secretnesse Thy mynde is lorne, thou ianglyst as a iaye Thy face is turned in a newe araye

There dronkennesse reyneth in any route There nys no coūsayle hyd wythoutē doute

O Donegild, I ne haue no englysh digne Vnto thy malyce, and thy tyrannye And therfore to the fende I the resygne Let hym endyte of thy traytrye Fye mannyshe fye: O nay by god I lye Fye fendyshe spirit•• for I dare wel tel Though thou here walke, thy spirit is in hel

This messāger cometh fro y^e kynge agayne And at the kynges mothers house he lyght And she was of thys messanger ful fayne And pleased hym in al that euer she myght He dronke, and wel hys gyrdel vnder pyght He slepeth, and he snorteth in hys gyse Al nyght, tyl the sonne gan aryse

Efte were hys letters stolen euerychon And counterfeted letters in thys wyse: The kynge cōmaundeth hys constable anon Vp payne of hongyng on an hye iewyse That he ne shulde sustren in no wyse Custaunce, wythin hys realme for to abyde Thre dayes, and a quarter of a tyde

But in the same shyppe, as he her fonde Her and her yonge sonne, and al her gere He shulde croude, and put fro the londe And charge her, that she neue•• eft come there O Custaunce, wel may thy goste haue fere And slepynge in thy dreame, ben in penaūce when Donegylde, cast al thys ordynaunce

This messāger on y^e morow when he woke Vnto the castel halte the nexte way And to the Constable he the letter toke And when that he thys pytous letter sey Ful ofte he sayd (alas) and welaway Lord Christ ({quod} he) how may this world en∣dure So ful of synne is many a creature

O myghty god, yf that it be thy wyl Syn thou art ryghtful iuge, how may it be? That thou wylt suffer innocence to spyl? And wycked folke to raygne in prosperite O, good custaunce (alas) so wo is me That I mote be thy tourmētour, or els dey On shames death, ther nys none other wey

Wepen both yonge & olde in that place when that the kynge thys cursed letter sent And Custaunce wyth a deadly pale face The fourth day, towarde her shyp she went But nathelesse, she taketh in good entent The wyl of Christ, & knelyng in the stronde She sayd Lorde, aye welcome be thy sonde

He that me kepte fro that false blame whyles I was on the lande amonge you He can me kepe fro harme, & eke fro shame In the salte see, al though I se not howe As stronge as euer he was, he is nowe In hym truste I, and in hys mother dere That is to me, my sayle and eke my stere

Her lytel chylde lay wepynge in her arme And knelynge pytously, to hym she sayde Peace lytel sonne, I wol do the none harme wyth that her kercher of her heed she brayde And ouer hys lytel eyen she it layde And in her arme, she lulleth it ful faste And into heuen her eyen vp she caste

Mother (quod she) & mayde bright Mary Soth is, that through womans eggement Mankinde was lorne, & dampned aye to dye For whych thy chylde was on crosse yrent Thy blysful eyen sawe al hys turment Then is there no comparison bytwene Thy wo, and any wo that man may sustene

Thou se thy chylde yslayne byfore thyn eyen And yet now lyueth my lytel chylde parsaye Nowe lady bryght, to whom al woful cryen Thou glory of womanheed, thou fayre may Thou hauen of refute, bryght sterre of day Rewe on my chylde, of thy gentylnesse That rewest on euery ruful in dystresse

O lytel chelde (alas) what is thy gylte? That neuer wroughtest synne, as yet parde why wol thyne hard father haue the spylte? O mercy: dere constable (quod she) As let me lytel chylde dwel here wyth the And yf thou darst not sauen hym fro blame So kysse hym ones in hys fathers name

Therwyth she loketh backward to y^e lōde And sayd: farewel husbande routhlesse And vp she ryst & walked downe the stronde Toward the shyp, her foloweth al the prees & euer she prayeth her child to holdē his pees

And taketh her leue, and with an holy entent She blesseth her, and into y^e shyppe she went

Vitayled was the shippe, it is no drede Habundantly, sor her full long space And other necessaries that shulde nede She had inowe, heried be goddes grace For wynde & weder, almighty god purchace And bringe her home, I can no better say But in the see, she driueth forthe her way

Alla the kyng cometh home sone after this Vnto hys castel, of whyche I tolde And asketh where his wyfe & hys chylde is The constable gan aboute hys herte to colde And playnly al the maner hym tolde As ye han herde, I can tel it no better And sheweth the king his seale and his letter

And sayd: lorde as ye commaunded me Vp payne of dethe, so haue I done certayne This messanger turmented was tyl he Must beknowen, and tel plat and playne Fro night to night, in what place he had lain And thus by wytte and subtel enqueryng ymagened was, by whō this harm gā spring

The honde was knowē, y^t the letter wrote And al the venym of this cursed dede But in what wyse, certaynly I note The effecte is this, that Alla out of drede His mother slow, that may men playnly rede For that she traytoure was to her alegaunce Thus endeth old Douegild with mischaūce

The sorowe that this Alla nyght & day Maketh for hys childe, and for hys wyfe also There is no tonge that it tel may But nowe wol I to Custaunce go That fleteth in the see, in payne and wo Fyue yere and more, as lyked Christes sonde Or that her shyppe aproched vnto londe

Vnder an hethen castel, at the laste Of whiche the name in my text I not fynde Custaunce and eke her chylde the set vp caste Almighty god, that saueth al mankynde Haue on Custāce, & on her chyld some mynde That fallen is in hethen honde efte sone In poynte to spyl, as I shal tel you sone

Downe fro the castel cometh ther many a wight To gauren on this shyppe, & on Custaunce But shortly fro the castel on a nyght The lordes stewarde, god yeue him mischaū¦ce A thefe, that had renyed our ••ceaunce Came into the shyp alone, and sayd he sholde Her lemman be, whether she wolde or nolde

Wo was the wretched woman tho bygō Her chylde cryed, and she cryed pitously But blysful Marye holpe her anon For with her stroglyng, wel and mightyly The thefe ouer the borde al sodaynly And in the see he drenched for vengaunce And thus hath christ vnwēmed kept Custāce

O soule luste of luxure, lo thyn ende Nat onely that thou fayntest mans mynde But verily, thou wolt his body shende The ende of thy werke, or of thy lustes blynd Is cōplayning: how many one may mē fynd That not for werke somtyme, but for thētent To don this synne, ben eyther slayne or shent

How may this weke womā haue y^t strēgth Her to defende agaynst this renegate? O Golyas, vnmesurable of length Howe might Dauid make the so mate? So yonge, and of armure so desolate Howe durst he loke on thy dredful face? wel may men 〈◊〉〈◊〉, it is but goddes grace.

Who yaue Iudith courage or hardynesse To sleen hym Holofernes in hys tente And to delyuer out of wretchydnesse The people of God? I say for this entent That ryght as God, spyrite and vygore sente To hem, and saued hem out of mischaunce So sent he might and vigore to Custaunce

Forth goth her ship thorow y^e narow mouth Of Subalter and septe, fletyng aye Somtyme weste, & somtyme northe & south And somtyme este, ful many a wery daye Tyl Christes mother, yblessed be she aye Hath shapen, through her endlesse goodnesse To make an ende of al her heuynesse.

¶Explicit secunda pars: et sequitur pars tertia.

NOw let vs stynte of Custance but a throwe And speke we of the Romayne Emperoure That out of Surrey hath by letters knowe The slaughter of christen folke, & dishonour Done to hys doughter, by a false traytour I meane the cursed wycked Soudonnesse That at the feest, let sleen bothe more & lesse

For whiche this Emperour hath sent anon Hys senatour, with royal ordinaunce And other lordes, god wote many one On Surreyns to done hye vengeaunce They brennē, sleen, & bringē hem to mischāce Ful many a day: but shortly this is the ende Homward to Rome, they shapē hem to wēde

This senatour repayreth with victorye To Rome warde, saylyng ful royally And met the shyp dryuyng, as sayth the story In whiche Custaunce, sate ful pitously Nothyng knewe he what she was, ne why She was in suche array, ne she nolde sey Of her estate, thoug she shulde dey

He bryngeth her to Rome, and to his wyfe He yaue her, and her yonge sonne also And with the senatour she ladde her lyfe Thus can our lady bryng out of wo Woful Custaunce, and many another mo And longe tyme dwelled she in that place In holy werkes euer, as was her grace.

The senatours wyfe her aunte was But for al that, she knewe her neuer the more I wol no lenger tarye in thys caas But to kyng Alla, y^e whiche I spake of yore That for hys wyfe wepeth, and syketh sore I wol retourne, and let I wyl Custaunce Vnder the senatours gouernaunce.

¶Kyng Alla, which y^t had his mother slayne Vpon a day fel in suche repentaunce That yf I shortly tellen al shal, & playne To Rome he cometh, to receyue hys penaūce And putten him in the churches ordinaunce In hye & in lowe, and Iesu Christ besought Foryeue hys wycked werkes, y^t he wrought

The fame anon through Rome town is born Howe Alla kyng, shal come on pilgrymage By herbegers that wenten hym byforne For whiche the senatour, as was vsage Rode hym agayne, and many of hys lynage As wel to shewen hys hye magnifycence As to done any kyng reuerence.

¶Great chere dothe thys noble senatour To kyng Alla, and he to hym also Eueryche of hem dothe other great honour And so byfel, that on a day or two This senatour is to kyng Alla go To feest, and shortly yf I shal not lye Custaunces sonne went in hys companye

Som mē wold sayne, at y^e request of Cu∣stance This senatour had ladde thys childe to feest I may not tellen euery circumstaunce Be as be may, there was he at leste But sothe it is, right at hys mothers heste Byforn Alla, duryng the meate space The chylde stode, lokyng in the kynges face

This Alla kyng, hath of thys chyld great wonder And to the senatour he sayd anon whose is y^e fayre chyld, that stondeth yonder? I not (quod he) by god and by saynt Iohn A mother he hath, but father hath he non That I of wote, but shortly in a stounde He tolde Alla, howe the childe was founde But God wote (quod this senatour also) So vertuous a lyuer in my lyfe Ne sawe I neuer, as she, ne herde of mo Of wordly woman, mayden, ne of wyfe I dare wel say, she had leuer a knyfe Through her brest, than ben a womā wycke There is no mā couthe bryng her to y^u pricke

Nowe was the chylde as lyke Custaunce As possyble is, a creature for to be This Alla hath the face in remembraunce Of Dame Custaunce, and theron mused he Yeue that the childes mother were aught she That is his wyfe, and priuely he syght And spedde hym fro the table, that he myght

Parfay he thought, y^e fantome is in myn heed I ought deme of skylful iugement That in the salte see my wyfe is deed And afterwarde he made hys argument What wot I, yf Christ hath hyther sent My wyfe by see? as wel as he her sente To my countrey, fro thens y^t she was wente

And after anone, home wyth the senatour Goeth Alla, for to se thys wonder chaunce Thys senatour doth Alla great honour And hastely he sente after Custaunce But trusteth wel, her lust not to daunce when she wyst wherfore was that sonde Vnneth vpon her fete myght she stonde.

Whē Alla saw his wife, fayre he her gret And wept, that it was rough for to se For at the fyrst loke he on her set He knewe wel verely that it was she And for sorowe, as dombe stante as a tre So was her herte shet in dystresse when she remembreth hys vnkyndnesse

Twyse she sowned in her owne syght He wepeth and hym excuseth pytously Nowe god ({quod} he) and hys hallowes bryght So wylly on my soule haue mercy That of your harme, as gyltlesse am I As is Maurice my sonne, so lyke your face Els the fende me fetch out of thys place.

Longe was y^e sobbyng, & the bytter payne Or that her woful herte myght cese Great was the pyte to here hem complayne Thrugh which plaintes gan her wo encrese I pray you al my laboure to relese I may not tel her wo, tyl to morowe I am so wery to speake of her sorowe

But fynally, when that y^e soth is wyste That Alla gyltlesse was of her wo I trowe an hundred tymes ben they kyste And such a blysse is there bytwyxt hem two That saue the ioye, that lasteth euermo There is no lyke, that any creature Hath seyen or shal, whyle y^e world may dure

Tho prayed she her husbande mekely In relesynge of her pytous payne That he wolde praye her father specially That of hys maiesty he wolde enclyne To vouchsafe somdaye wyth hym to dyne She prayed hym eke, he shulde by no waye Vnto her father no worde of her to saye

Some mē wold say, y^t the chyld Maurice Doth thys message vntyl thys Emperour But as I gesse, Alla was not so nyse To hym that was of so soueraygne honour As he that is of christen folke the flour Sent any chylde, but it is bette to deme He went hym selfe, and so it may wel seme

Thys Emperour graunted gentelly To come to dyner, as he hym bysought That al was redy he loked besely Vpon this chyld, & an his doughter thought Alla goeth to hys ynne, and as hym ought Arrayde for thys feest in euery wyse As farforth as hys connynge may suffyce

The morow came, & Alla gan hym dresse And eke his wyfe, the Emperour for to mete And forth they ryde in ioye and in gladnesse And when she sawe her father in the strete She lyght a downe and falleth hym to fete Father ({quod} she) your yonge chylde Custaunce Is nowe ful clene out of your remembraūce

I am your doughter Custaunce ({quod} she) That whylom ye han sent into Surrye It am I father, that in the salte see was put alone, and dampned for to dye Nowe good father, I you mercy crye Sende me no more into hethennesse But thanken my lorde here of hys kyndnesse

who can the pytous ioye tellen al Bytwyxt hem three syn they bē thus ymette But of my tale make an ende I shal The day goth fast, I wol no longer lette Thys glad folke to dyner ben sette In ioye and blysse, at meate I let hem dwell A thousande folde welmore then I can tel

This chyld Mauris was sythin emperour Made by the pope, and lyued christenly To Christes churche he dyd great honour But I let al thys story passen by Of Custaunce is my tale specially In olde Romayne iestes men may fynde Maurys lyfe, I beare it not in mynde

This kynge Alla, when he hys tyme sey wyth thys Custaūce, his holy wyfe so swete To Englande ben they come the ryght wey where as they lyue in ioye and in quyete But lytel whyle it lasteth I you hete Ioye of this worlde, for tyme wol not abyde Fro daye to nyght, it chaungeth as the tyde

Who lyued euer in such delyte a daye That he ne meued eyther in conscience Or yre, or tallent of some kyn affraye Enuye or pryde, or passion, or offence? I ne saye, but for thys ende, & thys sentence That lytel whyle in ioye or in pleasaunce Lasteth the blysse of Alla wyth Custaunce

For deth, y^t taketh of hye & lowe his rente when passed was a yere, euen as I gesse Out of thys worlde kynge Alla he hente For whom Custaūce hath ful gret heuynesse Nowe let vs prayen god hys soule blesse And dame Custaunce, fynally to say Towarde y^e towne of Rome goeth her way

To Rome is come thys holy creature And fyndeth her father hole and sounde Nowe is she skaped al her auenture And when that she her father hath yfounde Downe on her knees goeth she to grounde wepynge for tendernesse in herte blythe She heryeth god, an hūdred thousand sythe

In vertue and holy almesdede They lyuen al, and neuer a sonder wende Tyl death departen hem, thys lyfe they lede And fareth nowe wel, my tale is at an ende Now Iesu christ, y^t of his myght may sende Ioye after wo, gouerne vs in hys grace And kepe vs al, that ben in thys place

¶Thus endeth the man of lawes tale, and here foloweth the Squyers prologue.

OVr hoost on hys styroppes stode anone And sayd: good men herkeneth euerychone Thys was a thryfty tale for the nones Syr parysh preest ({quod} he) for goddes bones Tel vs a tale, as was thy forwarde yore I se wel that ye lerned men in lore Can moche good, by goddes dignite The parson hym answerde, benedicite what cyleth the man, so synfully to swere? ¶Our host answerd, O Ienkyn be ye there Now good mē ({quod} our host) herkeneth to me I smel a loller in the wynde ({quod} he) Abydeth for goddes dygne passion For we shall haue a predication Thys loller here, wol prechen vs somwhat. ¶Nay by my fathers soule, that shal he nat Sayd the Squyer, here shal he not preche Here shal he no gospel glose ne teche we leueth al in the great god (quod he) He wolde sowen some dyffyculte Or sprynge cockel in our clene corne And therfore hoost, I warne the byforne My lolly body, shal a tale tel And I shal ryngen you so mery a bel That I shal waken al thys companye But it shal not ben of philosofye Ne phisyke, ne termes queynte of lawe There is but lytel laten in my mawe

¶Here endeth the Squyers pro¦logue, and hereafter folo¦weth hys tale.

[illustration]

AT Sarra, in the lāde of Tartary There dwelt a kynge that warred Surry Thrugh which ther di¦ed many a douʒty mā Thys noble kynge was called Cambuscā Whych in hys tyme was of so great renoun That there nas no where, in no regioun So excellent a lorde in al thynge Hym lacked naught that longed to a kynge As of the secte, of whych he was borne He kept hys laye, to whych he was sworne And therto he was hardy, wyse, and ryche And pytous and iuste alwaye ylyche Trewe of his worde, benygne & honorable Of hys corage, as any centre stable Yonge, freshe, & stronge, in armes desyrous As any bacheler of al hys hous A fayre person he was, and fortunate And kept alwaye so royal astate That there nas no where such another man This noble kyng, this tartre, this Cābuscā Had two sonnes by Eltheta hys wyfe Of whych the eldest hyght Algarsyfe That other was cleped Camballo. ¶A doughter had thys worthy kynge also That yongest was, and hyght Canace But for to tel you al her beaute It lyeth not in my tonge, ne in my connynge I dare not vndertake so hye a thynge Myne Englyshe eke is vnsufficient It muste be a rethor excellent That couth his colours, longyng for y^e arte Yf he shulde dystryue here euery parte I am none such I muste speake as I can And so byfel, that thys Cambuscan Hath twenty wynter borne hys dyademe As he was wonte, fro yere to yere I deme He let the feest of hys natiuite Done cryen throughout Sarra hys cyte The laste ydus of Marche, after the yere Phebus the sonne, full ••oly was and clere For he was nye hys exaltation In Martes face, and in hys mantion In Aries, the collorike, the hote sygne Ful lusty was the wether and benygne For whych the foules, agaynst y^e sonne shene

what for the season, and the yonge grene Ful loude songe her affections Hem semed han getten hem protections Ayen the swerde of wynter kene and colde. ¶Thys Cābuscā, of which I haue you tolde In royal vestementes, syt on hys deys wyth dyademe, ful hye in hys paleys And helde hys feest so royal and so ryche That in thys worlde nas there none it lyche Of whych, yf I shall tel of al the array Then wolde it occupye a sommers day And eke it nedeth not to deuyse At euery course, the ordre of her seruyce I wol not tel of her straunge sewes Ne of her swannes, ne of her heronsewes Eke in that lande, as tellen knyghtes olde Ther is some meate, that is ful dainty holde That in thys lande men retche of it but smal There is no man that maye reporten all. I wyl not tarye you, for it is pryme And for it is no frute, but losse of tyme Vnto my fyrst purpose I wol haue recourse ¶And so byfel that after the thyrde course whyse that thys kyng syt thus in his noblay Herkenyng his minstralles her thinges play Beforne hym at hys borde delicyously In at the halfe dore al sodeynly There come a knyght on a stede of brasse And in hys honde abrode myrrour of glasse Vpon hys thombe he had of golde a rynge And by hys syde a naked swerde hongynge And vp he rydeth to the hye borde In al the hall ne was there spoke a worde For maruayle of y^e knyght, hym to beholde Ful besely they wayten yonge and olde ¶This straūge knyght y^t come thus sodenly Al armed saue hys heed, ful royally Salued kynge and quene, and lordes al By ordre, as they sytten in the hall wyth so hye reuerence and obeysaunce As wel in speche as in countenaunce That Gawyn wyth hys olde curtesye Thoughe he come ayen out of fayre Ne coude him not amende of no worde And after this, before the hye borde He with a manly voyce sayd his message After the forme vsed in his langage without vyce of syllable or of letter And for his tale shulde seme the better Accordant to his wordes was his chere As teacheth arte of speche hem that it lere Al be that I can not sowne his style Ne I ne can not clymben so hye a style Yet saye I thus, as to my comen entente Thus much amoūteth al that euer he mente Yf it so be, that I haue it in my mynde ¶He sayd: The kynge of Araby and of Ynde My liege lorde, on thys solempne day Salueth you, as he best can and may And sendeth you, in honoure of your feest By me that am redy at your heest Thys stode of brasse, that easely and wel Can in the space of a daye naturel This is to say, in foure & twenty houres where so ye lyst, in drought or in shoures Beren your body into euery place Into whych your herte wylleth to pace without weme of you, through foule or faire Or yf ye lyst to fleen in the eyre As doth an Egle, when hym lyst to sore This same stede shal beare you euermore withouten harme, tyl ye ben there you leste Though that ye slepen on his backe and rest And turne agayn with y^e writhyng of a pyn He that it wrought coude ful many a gyn He wayted ful many a constellation Or he had done this operatyon And knew ful many a seale & many a bonde. This myrrour eke y^t I haue in myne honde Hath such a myght, that men may in it se when there shal fallen any aduersite Vnto your reygne, or to your selfe also And openly se, who is your frende and foe And ouer al thys, yf any lady bryght Hath set her herte on any myner wyght Yf he be false, she shal the treason se Hys newe loue, and al hys subtylte So openly, that there shal nothynge hyde Wherfore agayne this lusty sommer tyde Thys myrrour & thys rynge, that ye maye se He hath sente to my lady Canace Your excellent doughter that is here ¶The vertue of thys rynge, yf ye woll here Is thys, that yf she lyst it for to were Vpon her thombe, or in her purse it bere There is no foule, that fleeth vnder heuen That she ne shal vnderstande hys steuen And knowe hys meanynge openly & playne And answere hym in hys langage agayne And euery grasse that groweth vpon rote She shal wel know, & whom it wol do bote Al be hys woūdes neuer so depe and wyde ¶This naked swerde, y^t hangeth by my syde Such vertue hath, y^t what man so ye smyte

Throughout his armure it wol karue & byte were it as thycke as a braunched oke And what mā that is woūded wyth y^u stroke Shal neuer be hole, tyl that you lyst of grace To stroken him with y^e platte in thylke place There he is hurte, thys is as moche to sayne Ye mote wyth the platte swerde agayne Stroken hym in the wounde, & it wol close Thys is very soth wythouten glose It fayleth not, whyles it is in your holde. And whē this kniʒt hath thus his tale tolde He rydeth out of the halle, & downe he lyght Hys stede, whych that shone as sonne bryght Stante in the courte styl as any stone The knyght is into chambre ladde anone He is vnarmed, and to the meate ysette And al that harneys byforne hym sette This is to sayne, the swerd & eke y^e myrrour Al borne was into the hye tour wyth certayne offycers ordeyned therfore And to Ca••ace the rynge is bore Solemnely, there she sat at the table But sekerly wythout any fable The horse of brasse, y^t may not be remeued It slante, as it were to the grounde yglewed There maye no man out of the place it dryue For none engyne, or wyndlas, or polyue And cause why, for they can not the crafte And therfore in the place they hau it lafte Tyl y^t the kniʒt hath taught hem y^e manere To voyden hym, as ye shal after here. ¶Great was y^e prees, that swarmed to & fro To gauren on the horse, that standeth so For it so hye was, & so brode and longe So wel proporcioned for to ben stronge Ryght as it were a stede of Lumbardye Therwyth so horsly, and so quycke of eye As it a gentle courser of Poyle were For certes, fro hys tayle to hys ere Nature ne arte coude hym not amende In no degre, as al the people wende But euermore her moste wonder was Howe that it couth gon, and was of bras It was of fayrie, as the people semed Dyuers folke dyuersly they demed As many heedes, as many wyttes there ben They murmure, as doth a swarme been And made of skylles after her fantesyes Rehersynge of the olde poetryes And sayden it was ylyke the Pegase The horse that had wynges for to flee Or els it was the Grekes horse Synon That brought Troye to dystruccion As men in thys olde bokes rede. Myne herte ({quod} one) is euermore in drede I trowe some men of armes ben therin That shapen hem thys cytie for to wyn It were right good, y^t such thynges were know An other rowned to his felow low And sayd he lyed, for it is rather ylyke An apparence made by some magyke As iogglours playen at these feastes grete Of sondry thoughtes, thus they iāgle & trete As leude people demeth comenly Of thynges that ben made more subtelly Then they can in her leudnesse comprehende They demen gladly to the badder ende. And some of them wondren on y^e myrrour That borne was vp to the mayster toure Howe men myght in it such thynges se. And other answerd, certes it myght wel be Naturally by composicyons Of angels and of slye reflections And sayden in Rome was suche on They speken of Alocen and Vitilion And Aristote, that wryteth in her lyues Of queynte myrrours, and of prospectiues As knowen they that han her bokes herde. And other folke han wōdred on y^e sworde That wolde perce through euery thynge And fel in speche of Telophus the kynge And of Achylles for hys queynte spere For he couth wyth it heale and dere Right in such wyse as mē may w^t the swerde Of which right now ye haue your seluē herd They speken of sondry hardyng of metal And speken of medycyns eke wythal And how, and when it shulde hardened be whych is vnknowe algate to me. ¶Tho speake they of Canaces rynge And sayden al, that suche a wonder thynge Of crafte of rynges herde they neuer non Saue that Moses, and kynge Salomon Had a name of connynge of such arte Thus sayen the people, & drawē hem aparte But nathelesse, some sayden that it was wonder to maken o•• serue ashen, glas And yet is glas not ••yke ashen of ferne But so they han knowen it so ferne Therfore they sesen her iāglyng & her wōder As sore wondren some on cause of thōder On ebbe & fludde, on gossomer, and on myste And on al thynge, tyl the cause is wyste. Thus ianglen they, and demē and deuyse

Tyl that the kyng gan fro hys borde aryse. ¶Phebus hath lefte the angle merydional And yet ascendyng was the beest royal The gentle Lyon with his Aldrian Whan that this tartre Kyng Cambuscan Rose from his borde, there as he sate ful hye Byforne hym gothe the loude mynstralcye Tyl he came to hys chambre of paramentes There as they sownen dyuers instrumētes That is lyke an heuen for to here Nowe dauncen lusty Venus chyldrē dere For in the fyshe her lady sate ful hye And loketh on hem with a frendly eye. ¶This noble kyng is sette vpon hys trone This straunge knyght is fet to hym ful sone And in the daunce he gothe with Canace Here is the reuel and the iolyce That is not able a dul man to deuyse He must hau knowe loue and her seruyse And ben a feestlyche man, as fresshe as May That shulde you deuyse suche araye. ¶who coulde you tellen the forme of daūces So vncouth and so fresh countenaunces Suche subtyll lokynges and dissimulinges For drede of ialouse mens apperceyuynges No man but Lancelot, and he is deed Therfore I passe ouer al this lusty heed I say no more, but in this iolynesse I lete hem, tyl men to supper dresse. ¶The steward byddeth spyces for to hye And eke the wyne, in al this melodye The vshers and the squyers ben ygone The spyces and the wyne is comen anone They eten & dronkē, & whā this had an ende Vnto the temple, as reason was, they wende The seruyce is done, they soupen al by day what nedeth it to rehersen her array? Eche man wot wel, that at a kynges feest Is plenty, to the moste and to the leest And deyntes mo, than ben in my knowynge. And after supper gothe this noble kynge To seen this horse of brasse, with al his route Of lordes and of ladyes hym aboute Such wōdrig ther was on his hors of bras That sythen the great siege of Troye was There as men wondred on an horse also He was there such a wondring, as was tho But fynally, the kyng asketh the knyght The vertue of thys horse and the myght And prayde him to tellen of his gouernaūce. The horse anon gan to tryppe and daunce whā y^t this knightlayde honde on hys rayne And sayd, syr there is no more to sayne But whan you lyste to ryden any where Ye mote tryll a pyn, stante in hys ere whiche I shal tel you bytwene vs two Ye mote nempne hym to what place also Or to what countre you lyst to ryde And whan ye come there you lyste abyde Bydde hym discende, and trylle a nother pyn For therin lyeth the effecte of al the gyn And he wol downe discende, & don your wyl And in that place he wol abyde styl Though al y^e world had the cōtrary sworne He shal not thens be ythrowe ne yborne Or yf you lyst bydde hym thens gon Tryl thys pyn, and he wol vanyshe anon Out of the syght of euery maner wyght And come ayen, be it day or nyght whan that you lyst to clepen hem agayne In suche a gyse, as I shal to you sayne Bytwyxt you and me, and that ful sone Ryde whā you lyst, ther nis no more to done ¶Enfourmed whā y^e kyng was of y^e knyght And hath conceyued in hys wytte aright The maner and the forme of al thys thyng Ful glad and ful blythe, the noble kyng Repayreth to hys reuel, as byforne The brydel is in to the toure yborne And kept amonge his iewels lese and dere The horse vanysshed, I not in what manere Out of her syght, ye get no more of me But thus I lete in luste and iolyte This Cambyscan, hys lordes festyng Tyl wel nye the day began to spryng.

¶Explicit prima pars••et se quitur pars secunda.

THe nortee of digestyon, the slepe Gan on hem wynke, & bad hem take kepe That myrth, drinke, & labour wol haue reste And with a galping mouthe hem al he keste And sayd, it was tyme to lye adoun For blode was in hys domynacyoun Cherysseth blode, natures frende ({quod} he) They thankē him galpyng, by two by thre And euery wight gan drawe him to his reste As slepe hem bade, they toke it for the beste. Her dremes shul not now ben it olde for me Ful were her heedes of fumosyte That causeth dremes, of whyche ther is no charge They slepen, tyl it was pryme large

The moste parte, but it were Canace She was ful mesurable, as women be For of her father had she take her leue To gon to rest, sone alter it was eue Her lyst not appalled for to be Nor on the morowe, vnfestlyche for to se And slept her fyrst slepe, and awoke For suche a ioy she in her herte toke Both of her queynt Rynge, & of her myrrour That twenty tymes she chaunged her colour And in her slepe, ryght for impressyon Of her myrrour, she had a visyon Wherfore, or the sonne vp gan glyde She cleped her maistresses her besyde And sayd, her luste for to aryse. ¶These olde women, that ben gladly wyse As is her maystresse, answerde her anon And sayd: madame, whither wol ye gon Thus erly•• for folke ben al in reste. ¶I wol (quod she aryse) for me leste No lenger for to slepe, but walken aboute. Her maystresse cleped wome a great route And vp they ryse, wel ten or twelue Vp ryseth fresshe Canace her selue As ioly and bright, as the yonge sonne That in the Ram is four degrees vp ronne No hygher was he, whan she redy was And sorthe she walketh an easye paas Arrayed after the lusty season sote Lightly for to playen, & to walken on fete Nought but fyue or sixe of her meyne And in a trenche, fer in the parke gethe she. ¶The vapour, whiche y^t fro the erth glode Maketh the sonne to seme ruddy and brode But nathelesse, it was so fayre a syght That it made al her hertes for to lyght What for the ceason, and for the morownyng And for the soules that she herde synge For right anon, she wyste what they ment Right by her songe, and knewe al her entent ¶The knotte why, that euery tale is tolde If it be taryed tyl luste be colde Of hem that han it herkened after yore The sauour passeth, euer lenger the more For fulsomnesse of prolixite And by the same reason thynketh me I shulde vnto the same knot condiscende And make of her walkyng sone an ende. ¶Amydde a ti••, for drye as whyt as chalke As Canace was playeng in her walke There sate a fauron ouer her heed ful hye That with a pytous voyce gan to crye That al the wodde resowned of her cry And beaten had her selfe so pytously With bothe her wynges, tyl the reed blode Ran endelonge the tre, there as she stode And euer in one, she cryed and shright And with her becke, her seluen so she pyght That there nas Tygre, ne cruel beste That dwelleth in wodde, eyther in foreste That nolde hā wept, yf that they wepe coude For sorowe of her, she shright alway so loude For there nas neuer yet man on lyue If that he couthe a faucon wel discryue That herde of suche another of fayrenesse As wel of plumage, as of gentylnesse Of shappe, of al that might trekened be A faucon peregryn than semed she Of scrude londe, & euermore as she stoode She swouned now & now, for lacke of blood Tyl welny is she fal fro the tree. ¶This fayre kynges doughter, this Canace That on her fynger bare the queynte rynge Thrugh which she vnderstod wel euery thīg That any foule may in hys leden sayne And coude answere hym in his leden agayne Hath vnderstande, what this faucon seyde And welny for routhe almost she deyde And to the tre she gothe ful hastely And on this faucon loketh ful pytously And helde her lappe abrod, for wel she wyste The faucon muste fallen from the twyste Whā y^t she swouned next, for lacke of bloode A longe whyle to wayten there she stoode Tyl at the laste she spake in this manere Vnto the hauke, as ye shalen after here. ¶What is the cause, yf it be for to tell That ye ben in this furyal payne of hell Quod Canace, vnto this hauke aboue Is thys for sorowe of dethe, or losse of loue? For as I trowe, these ben causes two That causen most a gentyll hert wo Of other harme it nedeth not to speke For ye vpon your selfe you wreke Whiche proueth wel, that eyther ire or drede Mote ben encheson of your cruell dede Syu that I se none other wyght you chace For the loue of god, so doth your selfe grace Or what may be your helpe, for west or est Ne sawe I neuer er now, no byrde ne beest That farde with hym selue so pytously Ye slee me with your sorowe veryly I haue of you so great compassioun For goddes loue come fro the tre adowne

And as I am a kynges doughter trewe If that I veryly the causes knewe Of your disease, yf it lay in my myght I wolde amende it, certes or it be nyght As wysely helpe me great god of kynde And herbes shal I right ynowe fynde To hele with your hurtes hastely Tho shright this faucon yet more spitously Than euer she dyd, & fell to grounde anone And lyeth a swoune deed as is a stone Tyl Canace hath in her lappe itake Vnto the tyme she gan of swoune awake And after that she of swoune gan abreyde Ryght in her haukes leden thus she sayde That pite renneth soone in gentyl herte (Felyng his semilitude in paynes smerte) Is proued al day, as men may se As wel by werke as by authorite For gentle hert kepeth gentilnesse I se wel, that ye haue of my distresse Campassyon, my fayre Canace Of very womanly benignyte That nature in your principles hath sette But for none hope for to fare the bette But for to obey vnto your hert free And for to make other beware by me As by the whelpe, chastised is the Lyon Right for that cause, and for that conclusyon Whyle that I haue a leyser and a space Myne harm I wol confessen or I pace And euer while that one her sorowe tolde That other wepte, as she to water wolde Tyl that the Faucon badde her to be styl And with a sike, thus she sayd her tyl. ¶There I was bredde, alas that ilke day And fostred in a roche of marble gray So tenderly, that nothyng eyleth me I ne wist not what was aduersyte Tyl I coude flye, ful hye vnder the skye There dwelte a Terselet me fast by That semed wel of al gentylnesse Al were he ful of trayson and of falsnesse It was so wrapped vnder humble chere And vnder hewe of trouth, & in suche manere Vnder pleasaunce, and vnder busy payne That no wight coud haue wede he coud fain So depe in greyne he dyed his colours Right as a serpent hideth him vnder flours Tyl he may se hys tyme for to byte Right so, this God of loues ipocrite Dothe so hys serymones and obeysaunce with his dissimulynge, & fayre assemblaunce That sowneth vnto gentilnesse of loue As in a tombe is al the fayre aboue And vnder the cors, suche as ye wote Suche was this ipocrite colde and hote And in this wyse he serued his entent That saue the fende, non wist what he ment Tyl he so long had weped and complayned And many a yere hys seruyce to me yfayned Tyl that myn hert, to pitous and to nyce Al innocent of hys cruel malyce For ferde of hys dethe, as thought me Vpon hys othes and hys suretee Graunted hym loue, vpon this condition That euermore myn honour and my renoun were saued, bothe preuy and apert This is to say, that after hys desert I yaue hym al myn hert and all my thought God wote, and in other wyse nought And toke his hert in chaunge of myn for aye But sothe is sayd, gone sythen many a day A trewe wight and a thefe thynketh not one And whan he sawe the thyng so fer ygone That I graunted hym fully my loue In suche a gyse, as I haue sayd aboue And yeuen hym my trewe hert as fre As he swore he yafe his hert to me Anon this Tygre, ful of doublenesse Fyll on hys knees with so deuout humblesse with hye reuerence, and eke by his chere So lyke a gentyl louer, as of manere So rauyshed, as it semed for ioye That neuer Troylus, ne Paris of Troy Iason certes, ne non other man Syn Lamet was, that alderfyrst began To louen two, as writen folke beforne Ne neuer sythen Adam was borne Ne couthe man by twenty thousande parte Counterfete the sophymes of hys arte Ne were worthy to vnbocle hys galoche Ther doublenesse or faynyng shulde aproche Ne so couth thanke a wight, as he dyd me His maner was an heuen for to se Tyl any woman, were she neuer so wyse So paynteth he hys chere poynt deuyse As wel hys wordes, as hys countenaunce And I so loued hym for hys obeysaunce And for the trouthe that I demed in his hert That yf so were, that any thyng hym smert Al were it neuer so lyte, and I it wyst Me thought I fetel dethe at my herte twyst And shortly, so ferforth this thyng went That my wyl was his wylles instrument

That is to say, my wil obeyed his wyl In al thyng, as ferre as reason fyl Kepyng the boundes of my worshyp euer Ne neuer had I thyng so lefe ne so leuer As hym god wote, ne neuer shal no mo This last lenger than a yere or two That I supposed of hym nothyng but good. But fynally, thus at the last it stode That fortune wolde that he most twyn Out of that place, whiche that I was in where me was wo, it is no questyon I can not make of it discriptyon For o thyng dare I tel boldely I knowe what the payne of dethe is therby Suche harm I felte, that he ne might beleue ¶So on a day of me he toke hys leue So sorowfully eke, that I wende verely That he had felte as moche harm as I whā that I herde him speke, & saw his hewe But natheles, I thought he was so trewe And eke that he repaire shulde agayne withyn a lytel whyle sothe to sayne And reason wolde eke, that he must go For hys honour, as ofte happeth so That I made vertue of necessite And toke it wel, sythe it must nedes be As I best might, I hidde fro hym my sorow And toke him by y^e hond, seit Iohn to borow And sayd thus: lo I am yours al Beth suche as I haue ben to you and shal what he answerde, it nedeth not reherce who can sayn bet than he, who can do wers? whan he had al wel ysaid, than hath he done Therfore behoueth hym a longe spone That shal eten with a fende, thus herd I say So at the last he mote forth hys way And forthe he sle••th til he come there him lest whan it come hym to purpose for to rest I trowe he had thylke text in mynde That al thyng repayring to hys kynde Gladeth him selue, thus sayn men as I gesse Men louen of kynde newfanglenesse As briddes don, that men in cages fede For though y^u nyght & day take of hem hede And strawe her cage fayre and softe as sylke And gyue hem sugre, hony, breed and mylke Yet right anon as hys dore is vppe He with his fete wold sporne adown his cup And to the wood he wolde, and wormes eate So newfangled ben they of her meate And louen nouelries of proper kynde No gentylnesse of blode may hem bynde So ferde thys Tercelet, alas the day Tho he were gentel borne, freshe and gaye And goodly for to se, and humble and free He sawe vpon a tyme a kyte flee And sodaynly he loued this kyte so That al hys loue is clene fro me goo And hath hys trouthe falsed in this wyse Thus hathe the kyte my loue in her seruyce And I am lorne without remedy. And with y^e worde this faucon gan to crye And swouned ofte in Canaces barme Great was y^e sorowe for that haukes harme That Canace, and all her women made They nyst how they might her faucon glade But Canace home bereth here in her lappe And softely in playsters gan her wrappe There as she w^t her becke had hurt her selue Nowe can not Canace but herbes delue Out of the grounde and make salues newe Of herbes precious and fyne of hewe To helen with the hauke fro day to nyght She dothe her besynesse, and all her might And by her beddes heed she made a mewe And couered it with veluettes blewe In sygne of trouthe, that is in women sene And al withouten y^e Mewe is peynted grene In which were peynted al these false foules As ben these tydefes, tercelettes, and owles Ryght for dispyte were peynted hem besyde Pyes on hem for to crye and chyde Thys leue I Canace her hauke kepynge I wol nomore as nowe speke of her rynge Tyl it come efte to purpos for to sayn How that this faucon gate her loue agayn Repentant, as the story telleth vs By mediatyon of Camballus The kynges sonne, of whiche I of tolde But hensforthe I wol my proces holde To speken of auentures, and of batayls That yet was neuer herd of so gret marue••ls Fyrst wol I tel you of Cambuscan That in hys tyme many a cyte wan Howe that he wan Theodora to hys wyfe And after wol I speke of Algarsyfe For whom ful ofte in great peryl he was Ne had he ben holpen by the horse of bras And after wol I speke of Camballo That fought in listes with the brethern two For Canace, er that he myght her wyn And there I left, I wol agayn begyn.

¶Explicit secunda pars.

Apollo whirleth vp his chare so hye Tyl that the god Mercurius house he slye.

¶There can be founde no more of this foresayd tale, whiche hath ben sought in dyuers places

¶Here foloweth the wordes of the Marchaunt to the Squyer, and the wordes of the Host to the Mar¦chaunt.

IN fayth Squyer, thou hast the wel iquyt And gentelly, I prayse wel thy wyt Quod the Marchaunt, consy∣dryng thyne youth So felyngly thou spekest I the alouth As to my dome, there is non that is here Of eloquence, that shalbe thy pere Yf that thou lyue, God gyue the ryght good chaunce And in vertue sende the perseueraunce For of thy spekyng I haue great deynte I haue a sonne, and by the Trinite I had leuer thā twenty poūdesworth londe (Though it nowe were fallen in my honde) He were a man of suche discressyon As that ye ben: fye on possessyon But yf a man be vertuous with all I haue my sonne shybbed, and yet shal For he to vertue lysteth nat to entende But for to play at dyse, and to spende And lese al that he hath, is his vsage And he had leuer talke with a page Than to cōmen with any gentyl wight where he myght lerne gentelnesse aryght Strawe for your gentylnesse ({quod} our host) what marchaunt, pardy wel thou wost That eche of you mote tellen at the lest A tale or two, or breken your behest That know I wel ({quod} the marchāt) certain I pray you haue me nat in disdayn Though I to thys mā speke a worde or two ¶Tel on thy tale withouten wordes mo Gladly syr host ({quod} he) I wol obey Vnto your wyl, nowe herkeneth what I say I wol you nat contray in no wyse As farre as my wittes may suffyse I pray to god that it may plesen you Than wotte I wel, it is good ynow.

¶Thus ende the wordes of the host and the marchant, and here folo¦weth the Marchauntes prologue.

WEpyng and waylyng, care and other sorowe I haue ynowe, both euyn and eke a morowe Quod the Marchaunt, and so haue other mo That wedded be, I trowe that it be so For wel I wote it fareth so by me I haue a wyfe, the worst that may be For though the fende coupled to her were She wold him ouermatch I dare wel swere What shulde I reherce in special Her hygh malyce: she is a shrewe at all There is a longe and a large difference Betwyxt Grisyldes great pacience And of my wyfe the passyng cruelte Were I vnbounde, also mote I the I wolde neuer efte come in the snare We wedded men lyue in sorowe and care Assay who so wol, and he shal fynde That I say sothe, by saynt Thomas of Inde As for the more parte, I say nat al God shelde that it shulde so befal Ah good syr host, I haue wedded be These monethes two, and more nat parde And yet I trowe he that all hys lyfe Hath wedded be, thoug men hym ryfe In to the hert, ne couthe in no manere Tel so moche sorowe, as I nowe here Coude tell, of my wyues cursednesse Now {quod} our host marchant, so god y^t blesse Syn ye be so moche knowe of that arte Ful hertely I pray you tell vs parte Gladly quod he, but of myn owne sore For sory hert I tel may no more.

¶Here endeth the Marchauntes pro¦logue, and here foloweth hys tale.

[illustration]

WHylō there was dwel∣lyng in Lombardy A worthy knyght, that borne was at Pauy In whiche he lyued in great prosperyte And syxty yeare a wy∣feles man was he And folowed aye hys bodely delyte On women, there as was his appetyte As don these foles that ben seculeres And whan that he was past sixty yeres were it for holynesse or dotage I can not sayn, but suche a great corage Had this knyght to ben a wedded man That day and nyght he dothe al that he can To espy, where that he wedded myght be Prayeng oure lorde to graunten hym that he Myghten ones knowen of that blysful lyfe That is bitwixt an husbande and hys wyfe And for to lyuen vnder that holy bonde with which god fyrst man and womā bonde Non other lyfe (sayd he) is worthe a bean For wedlocke is so easy and so clean That in this worlde it is a paradise Thus saith this olde knyght that is so wyse. And certaynly, as sothe as god is kyng To take a wyfe, it is a glorious thyng. And n••mely whan a man is olde and hore Than is a wyfe the frute of hys tresore Than shulde he take a yonge wyfe & a faire On which he might engendren him an heire And lede his lyfe in ioye and in solace where as these bachelers syngen alas whan that they fynden any aduersyte In loue, whiche nys but chyldes vanyte And trewly it sytte wel to be so That bachelers han ofte payne and wo On brotel grounde they bylden brotelnesse They finde freelte, whā they wenē secrenesse They lyue but as bryddes or beestes In lyberte, and vnder nyce arestes There as a wedded man in hys estate Lyueth a lyfe blisfully and ordinate Vnder the yoke of mariage ybounde wel may his hert in ioye and blisse habounde For who can be so buxome as a wyfe? who is so trewe and eke so tentife To kepe hym sicke and hole? as is hys make For wel ne wo she nyl hym nat forsake She nys nat wery hym to loue and serue Though that he lye bedreed tyl he sterue And yet some clerkes sayn, that it is nat so Of whiche Theophrast is one of tho what force though Theophrast lyst to lye Ne take no wyfe ({quod} he) for hysbondrye As for to spare in housholde thy dispence A trewe seruaunt doth more dilygence Thy good to kepe, than thyn owne wyfe For she wol clayme halfe parte al her lyfe

And yf that thou be sycke, so god me saue Thy very frendes or a trewe knaue wol kepe the better, thē she that wayteth aye After thy good, and hath done many a daye And yf thou take a wyfe, to the vntrewe Ful ofte tyme it shal the sore rewe Thys sentence, and an hundred sithes worse wryteth thys mā there, god hys bones curse But take no kepe of suche vanyte Defyeth Theophrast, and herkeneth me. ¶A wyfe is goddes yefte verely Al other maner yeftes hardely As landes, rentes, pasture, or cōmune Or mouables, al ben yeftes of fortune That passen, as a shadowe on a wal But drede not, yf playnly speake I shal A wyfe wol last and in thyne house endure wel lenger then the lyst parauenture Mariage is a ful great sacrament He whych hath no wyfe I holde him shent He lyueth helples, and al desolate I speake of folke in secular estate. And herkneth why, I say not this for nouʒt A woman is for mannes helpe ywrought The hye god, wen he had Adam maked And sawe hym alone belly naked God of hys great goodnesse sayd than Let vs make an helpe to thys man Lyke to hymselfe, and then he made Eue Here may ye se, and hereby may ye preue That a wyfe is mannes helpe and comforte Hys paradyse terrestre and hys dysporte So buxome and so vertuous is she They must nedes lyue in vnyte One fleshe they ben, & two soules as I gesse Not but one herte in wele and in dystresse A wyfe, ah saynt Mary, benedicite Howe myght a man haue any aduersite That hath a wyfe, certes I can not sey The blysse that is betwyxte hem twey There may no tonge tellen or hert thynke Yf he be poore, she helpeth hym to swynke She kepeth hys good, & wasteth neuer a dei Al that her husbande lust, her lyketh wel She sayeth not ones naye, when he sayth ye Do thys (sayeth he) al redy syr (sayth she) ¶O blysful order of wedlocke precious Thou arte so mery, and eke so vertuous And so cōmended, and so approued eke That euery mā, that halte hym worth a leke Vpon hys bare knees ought all hys lyfe Thanken god, that hym hath sent a wyfe Or praye to god hym for to sende A wyfe, to last vnto hys lyues ende For then hys lyfe is sette in sekernesse He may not be dysceyued, as I gesse So that he werche after hys wyues rede Then may he boldely bear••n vp hys hede They ben so trewe and also wyse For whych, yf thou wolt werchen as y^e wyse Do alway so, as women wol the rede Lo how that Iacob, as these clerkes rede By good counsayle of hys mother Rebecke Bounde the kydde skynne about hys necke For whych hys fathers benison he wan Lo Iudyth, as the story tel can By wyse counsayle goddes people kept And slewe hym Holofernes whyle he slept Lo Abigail by counsayle, howe she Saued her husbande Nabal, when that he Shulde haue be slayne. And loke Hester also By good counsayle delyuered out of wo The people of God, & made him Mardochere Of Assuere enhaunsed for to be. ¶There nys nothynge in gree superlatyfe (As sayeth Senec) aboue an humble voyfe Suffre thy wynes tonge, as Caton byt She shal cōmaūde, and thou shalt sustre it And yet she wol obey of curtesye A wyfe is keper of thyne husbondrye wel may the sycke man wayle and wepe There as there nys no wyfe y^e house to kepe I warne the, yf wysely thou wylt werche loue wel thy wift, as christ loueth his cherch Yf thou loue thy selfe, thou louest thy wyfe No man hateth hys fleshe: but in hys lyfe He fostreth it, and therfore byd I the Cheryshe thy wyfe, or thou shalt neuer ithe Husbande & wyfe, what so men iape or playe Of worldly folke holde the seker waye They be so knit, ther may none harme betide And namely vpon the wyues syde For which this Ianuary, of which I tolde Consydred hath in hys dayes olde The lusty lyfe, the vertuous quiete That is in mariage hony swete And for hys frendes on a daye he sent To tellen hem theffecte of hys entent. ¶wyth face sadde, his tale hath he hem tolde He sayd frendes, I am hoore and olde And almost (god wot) on the pyttes brynke Vpon my soule somwhat must I thynke I haue my body folyshly dyspended Blessed be god, it shal ben amended

For I wol ben certayne a wedded man And that anone in al the hast I can Vnto some mayde, fayre and tender of age I pray you shapeth for my mariage All sodeynly, for I wol not abyde And I wol fonden to espye on my syde To whom I may be wedded hastely But for as moche as ye ben more then I Ye shullen rather suche a thynge espyen Then I, and there me luste best to alyen But one thing war••e I you my frēdes dere I wol none olde wyfe haue in no manere She shal not passe fyftene yere certayne Olde fyshe & yonge fleshe wol I haue fayne Better is ({quod} he) a pyke then a pykerel And better then olde befe is the tender veel I wol no woman of thyrty wynter age It nys but be anstrawe and great forage And eke these olde wedowes (god it wote) They connen so moche crafte in wades bote So moche broken harme when hem lyst That wyth hem shulde I neuer lyue in rest For sondrye scholes maketh subtel clerkes A woman of many scholes halfe a clerke is But certaynly a yonge thynge may men gye Ryght as mē may warme war w^t hādes ply wherfore I saye you plainly in a clause I nyl none olde wyfe haue for thys cause For yf so were that I had myschaunce And in her couth haue no pleasaunce Then shulde I lede my lyfe in auoutry And so streyght to the deuel when I dye Ne chyldren shulde I none vpon her geten Yet had I leuer houndes had me eten Then that myne heritage shulde fal In straunge handes: and thus I tel you al I dote not, I wote the cause why Men shulde wedden: & forthermore wot I There speaketh many a man of mariage That wot nomore of this thē doth my page For whych cause men shulde take a wyfe Yf he may not lyuen chast hys lyfe Take hym a wyfe wyth great deuotion Bycause of leful procreation Of chyldren, to the honoure of god aboue And not only for paramour or for loue And for they shulden lechery eschewe And yelde her dettes when that it is dewe Or for that eche man shulde helpen other In myschefe, as a suster shulde the brother And lyue in chastite ful heuenly ¶But syrs (by your leaue) that am not I For god be thanked, I dare make auaunt I fele my lymmes hole and sufficiaunt To done al that a man belongeth to I wote my selfe best what I may do Though I be hore, I fare as doth a tre That blossometh er that frute ywoxe be The blossomed tre is neyther drye ne deed I fele no where hore but on my heed Myne herte and my lymmes bene as grene As laurel is through the yere to sene And sythen that ye haue herd al myn entent I pray you to my wyll ye wol assent Dyuers men dyuersly hym tolde Of mariage many ensamples olde Some blameth it, some prayseth it certayne But at the last, shortly for to ta sayn (As al daye falleth altereacion Betwyxt frendes in dysputation) There fel a stryfe betwyxt hys brethren two Of whych that one was cleped Placebo Iustynus sothly called was that other ¶Placebo sayd: O Ianuary brother Ful lytel nede han ye my lorde so dere Counsayle to axe of any that is here But that ye ben so ful of sapience That you ne lyketh for your hye prudence To vayne fro the worde of Salomon Thys worde sayth he vnto euerychone worke al thynge by counsayle, thus sayd he And then shalt thou not repent the But tho that Salomon speake such a worde Myne owne dere brother and my lorde So wysely god my soule bryng to ease & rest I holde your owne counsayle for the best. For brother myne, take of me thys motyfe I haue ben now a court man al my lyfe And god wote, though I now vnworthy be I haue standen in ful great degre Abouen lordes in ful great estate Yet had I neuer wyth none of hem debate I neuer hem contraryed truely I wote wel that my lorde can more then I That he sayeth, I holde it ferme and stable I say the same, or els thynge semblable A ful great foole is any counsaylour That serueth any lorde of hye honour That dare presume, or ones thynke it That his coūsaile shuld passe his lordes wy•• Nay, lordes be no fooles be my fay Ye haue your selfe spoken here to day So hye sentence, so holy & so wel That I consent, and conferme euery del

Your wordes al, and your opinyon By god there nys no man in al thys town Ne in Itayle, coude bette haue sayd Christ holdeth hym of thys ful wel a payde And trewly it is an hye corage Of any man that is stopen in age To taken a yong wyfe, by my father kyn Your hert hongeth on a ioly pyn Doth now in this matere right as you lest For finally I holde it for the best. ¶Iustynus that aye satte and herde Right in thys wyse to Placebo he answerde Nowe brother myne be pacyēt I you pray Sith ye haue said, now herkeneth what I say ¶Senec among other wordes wyse Saith, that a man ought hym wel auyse To whom he yeueth hys londe or his catel And sythens I ought auyse me right wel To whom I gyue my good away fro me wel moche more I ought auysed be To whom I gyue my body: for alway I warne you wel it is no childes play To take a wyfe wichout auysement Men must enquere (this is myne assent) whether she be sobre, wise, or dronkelwe Or proude, or other wayes a shrewe A chider, or a waster of thy good Other riche or poore, or els a man is wood Al be it so, that no man fynde shal Non in this worlde, that trotteth hole in all Ne man, ne beest, suche as men can deuyse But natheles, it ought ynough suffyse with any wyfe, yf so were that she had Mo good thewes, than her vices badde And al thys asketh layser to enquere For god wotte I haue wept many a tere Ful preuely, sythe I had a wyfe Praise who so wol a wedded mannes lyfe Certeyn I fynde in it but cost and care And obseruaunces of all blysses bare And yet god wote, my neyghbours about And namely of women many a rout Sayn that I haue the most stedfast wyfe And eke the mekest one that beareth lyfe But I wot best, where wryngeth me my sho Ye may for me, right as you lyst do Auyse you, ye ben a man of age Howe that ye entren into mariage And namely with a yonge wife and a fayre By him that made water, erthe, and ayre The yongest man that is in al this rout Is besy ynowe to bringe it about To haue his wyfe alone, trusteth me Ye shal nat pleasen her yeres thre This is to sayn, to don her plesaunce A wyfe asketh ful moche obseruaunce I praye you that ye be nat yuel apayde wel ({quod} this Ianuary) & hast thou al sayd? Strawe for thy Sence, & for thy prouerbes I count it nat worth a pannyer ful of herbes Of schole termes, wiser men than thou As thou hast herde, assenteth it right nowe To my purpose Placebo, what say ye? I say it is a cursed man ({quod} he) That letteth matrymony sekerly And with that worde they risen sodaynly And ben assented fully, that he shulde Be wedded whan him list, & where he wolde Hyghe fantasy and curiousnesse Fro day to day, gan in the soule empresse Of Ianuary, about hys mariage Many fayre shappe, and many fayre visage There passeth throug his hert night by night Al who so toke a myrrour polysshed bright And sette it in a comen market place Than shulde he se many a figure pace By his myrrour, and in the same wyse Gan Ianuary within his thought deuyse Of maydens, whiche that dwellen besyde He wyst nat where he myght abyde For yf that one had beautie in her face Another stout so in the peoples grace For her sadnesse and her benignyte That of the people grettest voyce had she And some were riche, and had badde name But natheles bitwixt ernest and game He at last apoynted hym on one And lete al other from his hert gone And chese her of his awne authorite For loue is blynde al day, and may nat se And whan y^t he was in his bedde ybrought He purtreyde in hys hert and in hys thought Her freshe beaute, and her age tender Her middle smal, her armes long and slender Her wise gouernaunce, and her gentylnesse Her womanly bearyng, and her sadnesse And whā that he was on her condiscended Him thoght his choise myght nat bē amēded For whan that he him selfe concluded had Him thought eche other mannes wyt so bad That impossyble it were to reply Ayenst his choice, this was hys fanta••y ¶His frendes sent he to, at his instaunce And prayeth hem to don hym that plesaunce

That hastely they wolde to hym come He wolde abrydgen her labour al and some Nedeth nomore for hym to go ne ryde He was appoynted there he wolde abyde ¶Placebo came, and eke hys frendes sone And alder fyrst he bad hem al a bone That none of hem none argumentes make Ayenst hys purpose that he hath ytake which purpose was pleasaūt to god (said he) And very grounde of hys prosperite. He said there was a mayden in the towne whych of beauty hath great renowne Al were it so, she were of smal degre Suffyseth hym her youth and her beaute whych mayde he said, he wold haue to wyfe To leden in ease and in holynesse hys lyfe And thanked god, y^t he myght hauen her al That no wyght hys blysse parten shal And prayeth hem to labour in thys nede And shapeth that he fayle not to spede For then he sayd, hys sprete was at ease Then is ({quod} he) nothynge maye me dysplease Saue o thynge prycketh in my conscience The whych I wol reherce in your presence. ¶I haue ({quod} he) herde sayd ful yore ago There may no mā haue parfyte blysses two Thys is to say, in earth and eke in heuen For though he kept him fro the synnes seuen And eke from euery braunche of thylke tre Yet is there so parfyte prosperite And so great ease and lust in mariage That euer I am agast nowe in myne age That I shal lede nowe so mery a lyfe So delycate wythout wo or stryfe That I shal haue myne heuen in earth here For sythen very heuen is bought so dere wyth tribulation and great penaunce How shulde I then lyuyng in such pleasaūce As al wedded men done wyth her wyues Come to y^e blisse, ther christ eterne on lyue is Thys is my drede, and ye my brethren twey Assoyleth me thys question I you prey. ¶Iustinus, whych that hated hys foly Answered anon ryght in hys iapery And for he wolde hys longe tale abrege He wolde none authorite allege But sayd: syr, so there be none obstacle Other then thys, god of hys hye myracle And of hys mercy may for you so wyrche That er ye han your ryghtes of holy chyrche Ye may repent of wedded mannes lyfe In whych ye sayen is neyther wo ne stryfe And els god forbede, but yf he sent A wedded man grace hym to repent wel ofter, rather then a syngle man And therfore syr, the best rede that I can Dyspayreth you not, but haue in memory Parauenture she may be your purgatory She may by goddes meane & goddes whip Then shal your soule vp to heuen skip Swyfter thē doth an arowe out of a bowe I hope to god here after ye shal knowe That ther nys none so great felicite In mariage, ne neuer none shal be That you shal let of your saluation So that ye vse it as skyl is and reason The lustes of your wyfe attemperatly And that ye please her not to amorously And that ye kepe you eke fro other syn My tale is done, for my wytte is thyn Beth not agast herof my dere brother But let vs wade fro thys matter to another The wyfe of Bath, yf ye vnderstande Of mariage, whych ye haue in hande Declareth ful wel in a lytel space Fareth now wel, god haue you in hys grace And w^t this worde, Iustyne & his brother Han take her leaue, and eche of hem of other For when they sawe it must nedes be They wrought so by wyse and slye treate That she thys mayde whych May hyght As hastely as euer that she myght Shal wedded be to thys Ianuary I trowe it were to longe to you to tary Yf I you tolde of euery escrite and bonde By whych she was fested in hys londe Or for to herken of her ryche arraye But fynally ycomen is the daye That to chyrch both ben they went For to receyue the holy sacrament Forth cometh y^e prest, w^t stole about his neck And badde her be lyke Sara and Rebecke In wysedome and trouth of mariage And sayd hys orisons, as is the vsage And crouched hem, & bad god shuld hem bles And made al seker ynowe wyth holynesse Thus ben they wedded wyth solempnite And at feest sytteth he and she wyth other worthy folke vpon the deys Al ful of ioye and blysse is the paleyes And ful of instrumentes and of vytayle The moost deyntes of al Itaile Beforne him stode instrumētes of such sown That Orpheus, ne of Thebes Amphion

Ne made neuer such a melody. ¶At euery cours came loude mynstralcy That neuer Ioab tromped for to here Neyther Theodomas yet halfe so clere At Thebes, when the cytie was in doute Bacchus the wyne hem skynketh al aboute And Venus laugheth on euery wyght For Ianuary was become her knyght And wolde both assayen hys corage In lybertie, and eke in mariage And wyth her fyre bronde in her hōde about Daunceth before the bryde and al the rout And certaynly, I dare wel sayen ryght this Emenius that god of weddynge is Saw neuer in his life, so mery a wedded mā Holde thou thy peace thou poet Marcian That wrytest vs that ylke weddynge mery Of her philology and hym Mercury And of the songes that the Muses songe To smal is both thy penne & eke thy tonge For to dyscriuen of thys mariage whē tēder youth hath iwedded stouping age There is such myrth, y^t it may not be written Assayeth your selfe, then may ye wytten Yf that I lacke or none in thys matere May that sytte, wyth so benigne a chere Her to beholde, it semed fayrey Quene Hester loked neuer wyth such an eye On Assuere, so meke a loke hath she I may you not deuyse al her beaute But thus moche of her beaute tel I may That she was like y^e bryght morow of May Fullylde of al beaute, and of pleasaunce This Ianuary is rauyshed in a traunce And at euery tyme he loke in her face But in hys herte, he gan her to manace That he y^t night, ī his armes wold her strein Harder, then euer Parys dyd Heleyn But natheles, yet had he great pyte That ylke nyght offende her muste he And thought, alas, O tender creature Now wolde god ye myght wel endure Al my corage, it is so sharpe and kene I am agast ye shal it not sustene But god forbede, that I dyd al my myght Now wolde god that it were waxe nyght And that the nyght wolde last euer mo I wolde that al these people were ago And fynally he doth all hys labour As he best myght, sauynge hys honour To hast hem fro the meat in subtel wyse The tyme came, that reason was to ryse And after that men dauncen, & drynke fast And spices all about the house they cast And ful of ioye and blysse is euery man Al but a squyer, that hyght Damian whych carfe before the knyght many a day He was so rauyshed on hys lady May That for very payne he was ny wode Almost he swelte, and souned there he stode So sore hath Venus hurt hym w^t her brand So freshe she was, and therto so lycande And to hys bedde he went hym hastely No more of hym at thys tyme speke I But there I let hym wepe ynowe & playne Tyl y^e freshe May wol rewen on hys payne. O perilous fyre, y^t in the bedstraw bredeth O famyler foe, that hys seruyce bedeth O seruaunt traytour, false homely hewe Lyke to the adder slye in bosome vntrewe O Ianuary dronken in plesaunce God shylde vs al from your iniquitaunce Of mariage, se howe thys Damian Thyne owne squyer and thy borne man Entendeth to done the villany God graunt the thyne homely foe to espye For in thys worlde nys wers pestilence Then homely foe, al daye in thy presence Parfourmed hath the son his arke dyurne No lenger may the body of hym soiourne On orisont, as in that latitude Nyght w^t hys mantel, that is darke & rude Gan for to sprede, the hemyspery about For whych departed is the lusty rout Fro Ianuary, wyth thanke on euery syde Home to her houses lustely they ryde There as they done her thynges, as am lest And when they sawe her tyme to go to rest Sone after thys lusty Ianuary wol go to bedde, he wolde no lenger tary He drynketh ypocras, clarrey, and vernag•• Of spyces hote, to encrease hys corage And many a lectuary had he full fyne Such as the cursed monke dan Cōstantyne Hath wrytten in hys boke of Coitu To eaten hem al he nolde nothyng eschewe And thus to hys preuy frendes sayd he For goddes loue, as sone as it may be Let voyde al this house in curteys wise sone ¶Men drinkē, and the trauers drewe anone So hasted Ianuary, it must be done The bryd was brought to bed as styl as ston And whē the bed was with y^e preest yblessed Out of y^e chābre hath euery wight hē dressed

And Ianuary hath fast in armes take Hys freshe May, hys paradyse, hys make He lulleth her, he kysseth her ful ofte wyth thycke brystels of hys berde vnsofte I lyke y^e skyn of Hoūdfysh, as sharp as brere For he was shaue al newe in hys manere He rubbeth her vpon her tendre face And sayd thus: Alas, I mote trespace To you my spouse, and you greatly offende Or tyme come, that I wol downe dyscende But natheles, consydreth thys ({quod} he) There nys no workman, what so euer he be That may both wyrche wel and hastely Thys wol be done at leyser parfytly It is no force howe longe that we play In trewe wedlocke coupled be we tway And blessed be the yoke that we bene in For in our actes we mowe do no syn A man may do no synne wyth hys wyfe Ne hurte hym selfe wyth hys owne knyfe For we haue leaue to play vs by the lawe Thus laboureth he, tyl the day gan dawe And then he taketh a soppe in fyne clarre And vpryght in hys bedde then sytteth he And after that he syngeth full loude & clere And kyst hys wyfe, and maketh wantō chere He was al coltyshe, and ful of ragery And ful of gergon, as is a flecked pye The slacke skynne aboute hys necke shaketh whyle that he songe, so chaūteth he & craketh But god wot what May thought ī her herte when she hym sawe, vpsyttyng in hys sherte In hys nyght cappe, with hys necke lene She prayseth not his playeng worth a bene Then sayd he thus: my rest wol I take Now daye is come, I may no lenger wake And downe he layd his heed, & slept til prime And afterward, when that he saw hys tyme Vp ryseth Ianuary, but the freshe May Holdeth her chambre to the fourth day As vsage is of wyues for the best For euery labour somtyme mote haue rest Or els longe may he not endure Thys is to say, no lyues creature Be it fyshe or beest, brydde or man Now wol I speake of woful Damian That langureth for loue, as ye shal here Therfore I speke to hym in thys manere. ¶I say, O sely Damian, alas Answere to thys demaunde, as in thys caas Howe that thou to thy lady freshe May Tel thy wo? she wol alwaye saye nay Eke yf thou speke, she wol thy wo bewray God be thyn helpe, I can no better say Thys sycke Damian in Venus fyre So brenneth, that he dyeth for desyre For whych he put hys lyfe in auenture No lenger myght he in thys wyse endure But priuely a penner gan he borowe And in a lettre wrote he al hys sorowe In maner of a complaynt or a lay Vnto thys fayre and freshe lady May And in a purse of sylke, hōgyng on hys shert He hath it put, and layde it at hys hert ¶The mone at noone tyde that ylke day (That Ianuary hath ywedded freshe May) Out of Taure was in the Cancre gleden So longe hath May in her chambre bydden As custome is, vnto these nobles al A bryde shal not eaten in the hal Tyl dayes foure, or thre at the leest I passed bene, then let her gon to feest ¶The fourth day cōplete fro noon to noone when that the hye masse was ydone In hal sat thys Ianuary and May As freshe as is thys bryght somers day And so befyl, how that thys good man Remembreth hym vpon thys Damian And sayd: saynt Mary how may thys be That Damian entendeth not to me? Is he aye sycke: or how may thys betyde? Hys squyers which that stodē hym besyde Excused hym, bycause of hys sycknesse whych letted hym to done hys besynesse None other cause myght make hym tary That me forthynketh ({quod} this Ianuary) He is a gentle squyer be my trouthe If that he dyed, it were harme and routhe He is as wyse, dyscrete, and secre As any man that I wote of hys degre And therto manly and seruysable And for to be a thryfty man ryght able But after meate, as sone as euer I may I wol my selfe vysete hym, and eke May To done hym al the comforte that I can And for that worde, hym blessed euery man That of hys bounte and of hys gentylnesse He wolde so comforten in hys dystresse Hys squyer, for it was a gentle dede Dame ({quod} thys Ianuary) take good hede That after meate, ye and your wemen al (when ye haue ben in chābre out of this hal) That al ye gone to se thys Damian Doth hym dysporte, he is a gentyl man

And telleth hym that I wol hym visite Haue I nothyng but rested me a lyte And spede you fast, for I wol abyde Tyl that ye slepe fast by my syde And with that worde he gan to hym cal A squyer, that was Marshal of hys hal And tolde him certayn thynge that he wolde This fresh May hath streight her way ihold with al her women, vnto this Damyan Downe by hys beddes syde sat she then Confortyng hym as goodly as she may This Damyan, whā that he his tyme say In secrete wyse, hys purse and eke hys byl (In whiche he had written al hys wyl) Hath put in to her honde withouten more Saue that he syghed wonders depe and sore And sothly, to her ryght thus sayd he Merry, and that ye discouer nat me For I am deed, yf that this thyng be kydde This purse hath she in her bosome hydde And went her way, ye gete no more of me But vnto Ianuary icome is she And on hys beddes syde she sytte ful softe He taketh her, and kysseth her ful ofte And layde hym downe to slepe, & that anon She fayned her, as that she must gon There as ye wote, y^t euery wight hath nede And whan she of this byl hath taken hede She rent it al to cloutes, and at last In to the preuy, sothly she it cast. who studieth nowe but faire fresshe May? And adown by Ianuary she lay That slepte, tyl the cough hath hym awaked Anon he prayde her to stripe her al naked He wolde of her (he said) haue some pleasaūce He said her clothes dyd hym encombraunce And she obeyeth be she lese or lothe But lest that precious folke be w^t me wrothe Howe that he wrought, I dare nat to you tel Or whether she thought it paradise or hel But I lette hem worche in her wyse Tyl euynsong ryng, that they must aryse Were it by desteny or by auenture were it by influence, or by nature Or constellation that in suche estate The heuen stode, that tyme fortunate (Was for to put a byl of Venus warkes) For al thyng hath tyme, as sayn clerkes To any woman for to gete her loue I can nat say, but the great god aboue That knoweth, that non acte is causeles He demeth al, for I wol holde my pees. But sothe is this, howe y^t this freshe May Hath take suche impressyon that day Of pyte, on thys sicke Damyan That fro her hert she dryue ne can The remembraunce for to downe hym ease Certayn (thought she) whom thys thyng dis∣please I recke not, for this I hym assure I loue hym best of any creature Though he no more had than hys shert. Lo pyte renneth soone in gentyl hert Here may ye se, howe excelent franchise In women is, whan they hem narow auyse Some tyrant is, as there ben many one That hath an hert as harde as any stone Which wolde haue lete him sterue in y^e place wel rather thā haue graunted hym her grace And her reioysed in her cruel pride And nat haue retched to been an homycide. Thys gentyl may, fulfylled of al pyte Right so of her honde a lettre made she In whiche she graunteth him her very grace There lacketh nought, but only tyme & place where that she might to hys lust suffyse For it shal be, right as he wol deuyse And whan she sawe her tyme vpon a day To visite this Damyā goth thys faire May And subtelly this lettre down she thryst Vnder hys pyllowe, rede it yf hym lyst She taketh him by y^e hond, & herd him twist So secretely, that no wight of it wyst And badde hym ben al hole, & forth she went To Ianuary, whan that he for her sent. Vp ryseth Damyan the next morowe Al passed was hys sickenesse and hys sorowe He kembeth hym and proy••eth hym a piketh And dothe all that hys lady lust and lyketh And eke to Ianuary he gothe as lowe As euer dyd a dogge for the bowe He is so plesaunt to euery man For crafte is al, who that it can That euery wight is fayn to spekē him gode And fully in hys ladyes grace he stode Thus lette I Damyan about his nede And in my tale, forthe I wol procede. ¶Some clerkes holden that felycite Stont in delyte, and therfore certayn he Thys noble Ianuary with al hys might In honest wyse, as longeth to a knyght Shope hym to lyue ful delyciously Hys housyng, hys array, as honestly To hys degre, was made as a kynges Among other of hys honest thynges

He had a garden walled al with stone So faire a garden was there neuer none For out of dout, I verily suppose That he that wrote the Romant of the Rose Ne couth of it the beaute wel deuyse Ne Priapus, ne myght nat suffyse Though he be god of gardens, for to tell The beaute of the garden, and of the wel That stont vnder a laurer alway grene Ful ofte tyme kyng Pluto and hys quene Proserpina, and al her fayrie Disporten hem, and maken melodye About that wel, and daunced as men tolde This noble knight, this Ianuary the olde Suche deynte hath, in it to walke and play That he wol suffre no wight to bere the kay Saue he hym selfe, for the smal wicket He bare alway of syluer a clycket with which, whan that hym lyst vnshet And whan that he wolde pay hys wyfe her det In somer season, thider wolde he go And May his wife, & no wight but they two And thinges whiche y^t were nat don a bedde He in the garden parfourmed hem & spedde And in thys wyse, many a mery day Lyued this Ianuary and thys freshe May But worldly ioye may nat alway endure To Ianuary, ne to no lyueng creature. ¶O sodayne hap, O thou fortune vnstable Lyke to the Scorpion disceyuable That slatrest w^t thy heed whā y^u wolt stynge Thy tayle is deth, thrugh thyn enuenomyng O brotel ioye, O swete poyson queynt O monster, that so sodaynly canst peynt Thy gyftes, vnder the hewe of stedfastnesse That thou discryuest bothe more and lesse why hast thou Ianuary thus desceyued? And haddest hym for thy frende receyued And now thou hast beraft hym both his eyen For sorowe of whiche desyreth he to dyen Alas, this noble Ianuary that is so fre Amydde his lust and his prosperite Is woren blynde, and al sodaynly His dethe therfore desyreth he vtterly And therwithal, the fyre of ielousy (Lest that his wyfe shulde fal in some foly) So brent hys hert, that he wolde fayne That some man, bothe hym & her had slayne For neuer after hys dethe, ne in hys lyfe Ne wolde he that she were loue ne wyfe But euer lyue a wedowe in clothes blake Sole, as the turtle doth y^t hath lost her make But at the last, after a mouth or tway His sorowe gan to swage, sothe to say For whan he wyst it might non other be He paciently toke hys aduersyte Saue out of dout may he nat for gone That he nas ielous euer more in one whiche ielousy, it was so outragious That neyther in hal ne in non other hous Ne in non other place neuer mo He nolde suffre her, neyther ryde ne go But if that he had honde on her alway For whiche ful often wepeth freshe May That loueth Damyan so benignely That she mote eyther dye sodaynly Or els she mote haue hym at her lest She wayteth whan her hert shulde to brest Vpon that other syde Damyan Become is, the sorowfullest man That euer was, for neyther night ne day Ne myght he speke a worde to freshe May As to his purpose of no suche matere But yf that Ianuary must it here That had an honde vpon her euer mo But natheles, by writyng to and fro And preuy sygnes, wist he what she ment And she knewe al the sygnes of hys entent. ¶O Ianuary, what myght the it auayle? Tho thou mightest se, as fer as shippes sayle For as good is a blynde man disceyued be As to be disceyued, whan that a man may se. Lo Argus, which had an hundred eyen For all that euer he couthe pore and prien Yet was he blent, and god wotte so ben mo That wenen wisely that it is nat so Passe ouer is an ease, I say no more This fresh May, of which I spake of yore In warme waxe hath printed this clycket That Ianuary bare of that small wicket By whiche vnto hys garden ofte he went And Damyan that knewe her entent The clycket counterfayted priuely There nys no more to say, but hastely Some wonder by this clycket shal betyde whiche ye shul heren, yf ye wol abyde. ¶O noble Ouide, soth sayest thou god wote what sleight is it, though it be long and hote That he nyl fynde it out in some manere By Pyrramus and Thisbe, maye men lere Though they were kept ful lōg streyt ouer al They ben accorded, rownyng through a wal Ther nis no wight couth fynde such a sleight But nowe to purpose, er y^t dayes eyght

Were passed, er the moneth of Iule befyll That Ianuary hath caught so great a wyl Through egging of his wife, him for to play In his garden, & no wight but they tway That in a morowe, vnto this May sayd he Ryse vp my wife, my loue, my lady free The turtel voyce is herde my lady swete The wynter is gon, with al his raynes wete Come forth now with thyn eyen columbyne Nowe fayrer ben thy brestes than is wyne The garden is enclosed al about Come forth my white spouse out of dout Thou hast me wounded in my hert, o, wyfe No spotte in the nas in al thy lyfe Come forth and lette vs taken our disport I chese the for my wyfe and my confort Suche olde leude wordes vsed he On Damyan a sygne made she That he shulde go before with hys clicket This Damyan hath opened this wicket And in he stert, and that in suche manere That no wight might it se ne here And styl he sate vnder a busshe anon. This Ianuary, as blynde as is a ston with May in hys honde, and no wight mo In to hys freshe garden is he go And clapte to the wicket sodainly. Nowe wyfe ({quod} he) here nys but thou & I That arte the creature that I best loue For by that lorde that sytte vs al aboue I had leuer dyen on a knyfe Than the offende, dere trewe wyfe For goddes sake thynke howe I the chees Nat for couetise, ne other good doutlees But onely for the loue I had to the And though that I be olde and may nat se Be to me trewe, and I woll tel you why Certes, thre thynges shal ye wyn therby First loue of Christ, & to your selfe honour And al myn heritage, town and toure I gyue it you, maketh charters as ye lyst Thys shal be don to morowe er sonne ryst So wisely god my soule bring to blysse I pray you on couenaunt that ye me kysse And though y^t I be ielous wite me nought Ye ben so depe enprented in my thought That whan I consyder your beaute And therwithal, the vnlikly elde of me I may nat certes, though I shulde dye Forbere, to ben out of your company For very loue, this is withouten dout Now kysse me wife, and lette vs rome about This fresh May, whā she these wordes herd Benygnely to Ianuary answerde But fyrst and forwarde she began to wepe I haue ({quod} she) a soule for to kepe As wel as ye, and also myn honour And of wyfehode thilke tender flour whiche that I haue ensured in your honde whan that the preest to you my body bonde wherfore I wol answere in this manere By the leaue of you my lorde so dere I pray god that neuer dawe that day That I ne sterue, as foule as woman may Yf euer I do to my kynne that shame Or els that I empayre so my name That I be false, and yf I do that lacke Do stripe me, and putte me in a sacke And in the next ryuer do me drenche I am a gentyl woman, and no wenche why speke ye thus, but men ben euer vntrew And women haue reprofe of you, aye newe Ye can non other cōmunyng, I leue But speke to vs of vntrust and repreue And with y^e word she sawe where Damiā Sate in the bushe, and knele he began And with her fynger sygnes made she That Damyan shulde clymbe vp on a tre That charged was with frute, & vp he went For verily he knewe al her entent And euery sygne that she couth make welbet than Ianuary her owne make For in a letter she had tolde him al Of this mater, howe that he worch shal And thus I lete hym sytte in the pery And Ianuary and May romyng ful mery. ¶Bright was the day, & blewe y^e fyrmament Phebus of golde doun hath his stremes sent To gladen euery flour with hys warmnesse He was that tyme in Geminy, as I gesse But lytel fro hys declynation The causer of Iouis exaltation And so byfel that bright morowe tyde That in the garden, on the farther syde Pluto, that is the kyng of Fayrye And many a lady in hys company Folowyng his wyfe, the quene Proserpyne Eche after other ryght as a lyne whiles she gadred floures in a mede In Claudian ye may the story rede Howe in his grisely carte he her fette This kyng of Fayry doun hym sette Vpon a benche of turues freshe and grene And right anon thus sayd he to hys quene

My wyfe ({quod} he) that may nat say nay The experience so proueth it euery day The treason, which that women doth to mā Tenne hundred thousande tel I can Notable, of your vntrouth and brotelnesse O Salomon, richest of al richesse Fulfylde of sapience, and of worldly glory Ful worthy ben thy wordes in memory To euery wight, that witte and reason can Thus prayseth he the bounte of man Among a thousande men yet fonde I one But of al women fonde I neuer none Thus saith y^e kyng, y^t knoweth your wicked∣nesse And Iesus filius Sirach, as I gesse Ne speketh of you but selde reuerence A wylde fyre, a corrupte pestilence So fal vpon your bodies yet to nyght Ne se ye nat thys honorable knyght? Bicause (alas) that he is blynde and olde His owne man shal maken him cokolde Lo where he sytte, the lechour in the tre Nowe wol I graunt of my maieste Vnto this olde blynde worthy knyght That he shal haue agayn hys eye syght whan that hys wyfe wolde don him villany Than shal he knowe al her harlotry Bothe in represe of her and other mo. Yea shal ({quod} Proserpyne) and wol ye so? Nowe be my mothers soule syr I swere That I shal yeuen her sufficient answere And al women after her sake That though they ben in any gylte itake with face bolde, they shullen hem selue excuse And bere hym doun, that wolde hem accuse For lacke of answere, non of hem shul dyen Al had he sey a thyng with bothe hys eyen Yet shulde we women so visage it hardely And wepe and swere, and chide subtelly That ye shal ben as leude as gees What recketh me of your auctoritees? I wotte wel this iewe, this Salomon Founde of vs women foles many one But though he ne fonde no good woman Yet there hath ifonde many an other man women ful trewe, ful good, & ful vertuous witnesse of hem that dwel in Christes hous with martyrdom, they preued her constaunce The Romain iestes eke make remembraūce Of many a very trewe wyfe also But syr, be nat wrothe that it be so Though that he said he fond no good womā I pray you take the sentence of the man He ment thus, that in souerayn bounte Nys non but god, that sytteth in trynyte. Eye, for very god that nys but one what make ye so moche of Salomon? what though he made a temple goddes hous what though he were riche and glorious? So made he a temple of false goddis How might he don a thing y^e more forbode is Parde as faire as ye hys name enplaster He was a lechour, and an idolaster And in his elde, very god forsoke And yf that god nadde (as saith the boke) Yspared hym for hys fathers sake, he shulde Haue lost his reygne soner than he wolde I sette nat of al the villany That ye of women write, a butterflye I am a woman, nedes mo••e I speke Or els swel, tyll myn hert breke For sythen he sayd, that we ben iangleresses As euer more I hole broke my tresses I shal nat spare for no curtesy To speke hem harme, that wold vs villany Dame ({quod} this Pluto) be no lenger wroth I gyue it vp: but sythe I swore myn othe That I wolde graunt hym hys syght ayen My worde shal stande, y^t warn I you certeyn I am a kyng, it sytte me nat to lye. And I ({quod} she) a quene of Fayrie Her answere she shal haue I vndertake Lette vs no mo wordes herof make Forsoth I wol no lenger you contrary. Nowe lette vs turne agayn to Ianuary That in the garden with this faire May Syngeth merier than the popyngay You loue I best, and shal, and other non So long about the aleyes is he gon Tyl he was comen ayenst thylke pery where as this Damyan sytteth ful mery On hye, among these freshe leues grene. This freshe Maye, that is so bright & shene Gan for to sike, and sayd: alas my syde Nowe syr ({quod} she) for ought that may be tyde I must haue of these peeres that I here se Or I more dye, so sore longeth me To eten of the smal peeres grene Helpe for her loue that is heuyn quene I tel you wel a woman in my plyte May haue to frute so great an appetyte That she may dyen, but she it haue Alas ({quod} he) that I ne had here a knaue That couth clymbe, alas, alas ({quod} he) For I am blynde, ye syr no force ({quod} she)

But wolde ye vouchsafe for goddes sake The pety in your armes for to take For wel I wotte that ye mystrust me Than shulde I clymbe wel ynough ({quod} she) So I may fote myght sette vpon your backe Forsoth sayd he, in me shal be no lacke Might I you helpe with myne hert blode He stoupeth doun, & on hys backe she stode And caught her by a twist, and vp she goth Ladyes I praye you be nat wroth I can nat glose, I am a rude man And sodaynly anon this Damyan Gan pullen vp the smocke, and in he thronge A great tent, a thrifty and a longe She sayd it was the meryest fytte That euer in her lyfe she was at yet My lordes tent serueth me nothyng thus It foldeth twifolde by swete Iesus He may nat swyue worth a leke And yet he is ful gentyl and ful meke This is leuer to me than an euynsong And whan that Pluto sawe thys wronge To Ianuary he gaue agayn his syght And made hym se aswel as euer he myght And whan he had caught his syght agayn Ne was there neuer man of thyng so fayn But on his wyfe his thought was euer mo Vp to the tree he cast his eyen two And saw how Damian his wife had dressed In suche manere, it may nat be expressed But yf I wolde speke vncurtesly And vp he ya•• a roryng and a crye As dothe the mother whan the child shal dye Out helpe, alas (harowe) he gan to crye For sorowe almost he gan to dye That his wife was swyued in the pery O stronge lady hore what dost thou? ¶And she answered: syr what ayleth you? Haue pacience and reason in your mynde I haue you holpen of both your eyen blynde Vp peryl of my soule, I shal nat lyen As me was taught to helpe with your eyen was nothyng bette for to make you se Than strogle with a man vpon a tree God wote I dyd it in ful good entent ¶Strogle ({quod} he) yea algate in it went Styffe and rounde as any bel It is no wonder though thy bely swel The smocke on hys brest lay so theche And euer me though he poynted on y^e breche God gyue you bothe on shames deth to dyen He swyued the, I sawe it with myne eyen And els I be honged by the halse Than is ({quod} she) my medicyn false For certayn, yf that ye myght se Ye wolde nat say theke wordes to me Ye haue some glymsyng, and no parfite sight I se ({quod} he) as wel as euer I might Thanked be god, with bothe myne eyen two And by my trouth me thought he dyd so Ye mase ye mase, good syr ({quod} she) This thanke haue I for that I made you se Alas ({quod} she) that euer I was so kynde Now dame ({quod} he) let al passe out of minde Come down my lefe, and if I haue missayde God helpe me so, as I am yuel apayde But by my fathers soule, I wende haue seyn Howe that this Damyan had by the leyn And that thy smocke had lyen vpon his brest Ye syr ({quod} she) ye may wene as ye lest But syr, a man that waketh out of hys slepe He may nat sodaynly wel taken kepe Vpon a thyng, ne se it parfitely Tyl that he be adawed verily Right so a man that longe hath blynde be Ne may nat sodaynly so wel yse First whan the sight is newe comen agayn As he that hath a daye or two ysayn Tyl that your sight istabled be a while There may ful many a sight you begyle Beware I pray you, for by heuen kyng Ful many a man weneth to se a thyng And it is al another than it semeth He that mysconceyueth ofte mysdemeth And with that worde she lepe doun fro y^e tre This Ianuary, who is gladde but he? He kysseth her, he clyppeth her ful ofte And on her wombe he stroketh her ful softe. And to hys paleys home he hath her ladde Nowe good men I pray you, beth ye al glad Thus endeth here my tale of Ianuary God blesse vs al, and hys mother Mary.

¶Thus endeth the Marchauntes tale, and here foloweth the wife of Bathes pro∣logue.

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EXperience, though none autho∣rite Were in this worlde, is ryght ynowe for me To speake of wo that is in ma∣riage For lordinges, sith I twelue yere was of age Thonked be god, that is eterne on lyue Husbondes at chirche dore haue I had fyue If I so ofte myght haue wedded be And al were worthy men in her degre. But me was tolde not longe ago twys That sythen Christ went neuer but onys To weddyng, in the caue of Galilee That by thylke ensample taught he me That I ne shulde wedded be, but ones. ¶Lo here, which a sharpe word for y^e nones Besyde a wel, Iesu god and man Spake in rep••efe of the Samaritan Thou hast had fyue husbandes ({quod} he) And that ilke man that now hath the Is not thyne husbonde: thus sayd he certayn what he ment therby I can not sayn But that I aske, why the fyfte man was n•••• husbonde to the Samaritan Howe many myght she haue in mariage? Yet herde I neuer tellen in myne age Vpon this nombre trewe diffynition Men may deuyne, and glosen vp and doun But wel I wotte expresse without lye God badde vs for to wexe and multiply That gentyl text can I wel vnderstonde Eke wel I wotte (he said) myne husbonde Shuld leaue father & mother, and take to me But of nombre no mention made he Of bigamye or of octogamye Why shul men speke of it villany? Lo he the wyse kyng Salomon I trowe had wyues mo than one As wolde god it leful were to me To be refreshed halfe so ofte as he which a gifte of god had he, for al hys wyuis No man hath such, y^t in this worlde a lyue is God wotte this noble kynge, as to my wytte The fyrst nyght had many a mery fytte with eche of hem, so wel was hym & lyue Blessed be god, I haue had fyue welcome the syxte whan euer he shal For sothe I wol not kepe me chaste in al whan myne husbonde is fro the world ygon Some crysten man shal wedde me anon For than the apostel saythe, that I am fre To wedde a godde shalbe, where it lyketh me He saythe, that to be wedded is no synne Better is to be wedded then to brynne What recketh me though folke say villany Of shrewde Lameth, and of hys bigamy ¶I wotte wel Abraham was an holy man And Iacob eke, as fer as euer I here can And eche of hem had wyues mo than two And many another holy man also Where can ye say in any maner age

That euer god defended mariage By expresse wordes? I pray you tel me Or where cōmaunded he virginyte? I wotte as wel as ye, it is no drede The Apostel, whan he spake of maydenhede He sayd, therof precept had he none Men may counsayle a woman to be one But counsaylyng is no cōmaundement He put it in our owne iugement For had god cōmaunded maydenheoe Thā had he dampned weddyng out of drede And certes, yf there were no sede ysowe Virginite than wherof shulde it growe? Poule durst not comaunde at the leste I thing, of which his maister yafe none heste The darte is set vp for virgynite Catche who so may, who renneth beste let se. But thys worde is not take of euery wight But there as god lyst yeue it of his might I wotte wel that the apostel was a mayde But nathelesse, though that he wrote & sayde He wolde that euery wight were suche as he Al nys but counsayle to virginite And for to ben a wyfe he yaue me leue Of indulgence, so it be not to repreue To wedde me, yf that my make dye without exception of bygamye Al were it good no woman for to touche He ment as in hys bedde or in hys couche For peryl is, bothe fyre and towe to assemble Ye knowe what this ensample may resemble This is al and some, he helde virginite More parfyte than weddyng in freelte. ¶Freelte clepe I, but yf that he and she wolde lede her lyfe al in chastyte I graunt it wel, I haue none enuye Though maydenhede preferre bygamye It lyketh hem to be clene in body and goste Of myne estate I wol make no boste For wel ye know, a lorde in his housholde Hath nat euery vessel al of golde Some ben of tree, and don her lorde seruyce God clepeth folke to hym in sondry wyse And eueriche hath of god a proper gifte Some this, some that, as hym lyketh shifte Virginyte is great perfection And contynence eke with deuocion But Christ, that of perfection is wel Badde nat euery wight he shulde go sel Al that he had, and gyue it to the poore And in suche wise folowe hym and his lore He spake to hem, that wolde lyue parfitly And lordinges (by your leaue) that am nat I I wol bestowe the floure of al myne age In the actes and frute of mariage Tel me also, to what conclusyon were membres made of generation? And of so parfite wise a wight iwrought Trusteth wel, they were nat made for nouʒt Glose who so wol, and saye vp and doun That they were made for purgatioun Of vryne, and other thynges smale And eke to knowe a female from a male And for non other cause, what say ye no? The experience wotte wele it is nat so So that the clerkes be nat with me wroth I saye that they were maked for bothe This is to sayn, for offyce and for ease Of engendrure, there we nat god displease why shulde men els in her bokes sette That man shulde yelde to hys wyfe her dette Now wherwith shuld he pay his paymēt? It he ne vsed his sely instrument Than were they made vpon a creature To purge vryn, and eke for engendrure But I say nat, that euery wight is holde That hath suche harnesse, as I to you tolde To gon and vsen hem in engendrure Than shulde men take of chastite no cure Christ was a mayde, and shapen as a man And many a saynt, sythen the worlde began Yet lyued they euer in parfyte chastite I nyl enuy no virginyte Lette hē with bredde of pure whete be fedde And lette vs wyues eate barly bredde And yet with barly bred, Marke tel can Our lorde Iesu refreshed many a man In suche a state as god hath cleped vs I wol perseuer, I nam nat precious In wifehode wol I vse myn instrument As frely as my maker hath it sent If I be daungerous, god gyue me sorowe My husbōd shal it haue both euyn & morow whan that him lyst come forth & pay his det An husbande wol I haue I wol nat let whiche shal be bothe my dettour & my thral And haue his tribulation with al Vpon his fleshe, while that I am hys wyfe I haue the power duryng al my lyfe Vpon his proper body, and nat he Right thus the apostle tolde to me And badde our husbondes for to loue vs wel Al this sentence me lyketh euery del. ¶Vp stert the Pardoner, and that anon

Nowe dame {quod} he, by god & by saynt Iohn Ye ben a noble prechour in thys caas I was about to wedde a wyfe, alas what, shulde I bye it on my fleshe so dere? Yet had I leuer wedde no wyfe to yere Abyde {quod} she, my tale is not begon Nay, thou shalt drynke of another ton Er that I go, shal sauer worse then ale And when that I haue tolde forth my tale Of tribulation that is in mariage Of whych I am expert in al myne age Thys is to say, my selfe haue ben the whyp Then mayst th••u chese whyther y^u wylt syp Of thylke tonne, that I shal set abroche Beware of it, er thou to nere aproche For I shal tel ensamples mo then ten who so wol not beware by other men By hym shal other men corrected be These same wordes wryteth Ptholome Rede in hys almagest, and take it there. Dame I wol pray you, yf your wyll were Sayd thys pardoner, as ye began Tel forth your tale, spareth for no man And teache vs yonge men of your practycke Gladly ({quod} she) yf it may you lyke But that I praye to al thys company Yf that I speake after my fantasy As taketh not agrefe of that I say For myne entent is not but to play Now syrs, then shal I tel forth my tale? As euer mote I drynke wyne or ale I shal say soth, tho husbondes that I had Thre of hem were good, and two were bad The thre good men were ryche and olde Vnnethes myght they the statute holde In whych they were bounden vnto me Ye wote wel what I meane of thys parde As god me helpe, I laugh when I thynke Now pirously a night I made hem to swinke But by my faye, I tolde of it no store They had me yeue her londe and her tresore Me neded no lenger to do diligence To wynne her loue, and hem reuerence They loued me so wel by god aboue That I ne tolde no deynte of her loue A wyse woman wol besy her euer in one To gete her loue, ther as she hath none But sythen I had hem holly in my honde And that they had gyue me al her londe what, shulde I take kepe hem for to please? But yf it were for my profyte and myn ease I sette hem so a worke by my faye That many a nyght they songen wel away The bacon was not fet for hem I trowe That some men haue in Essex at Dōmowe I gouerned hem so wel after my lawe That eche of hem ful blysful was & fawe To brynge me gaye thynges fro the fayre They were ful fayne whē I spake hem fayre For god it wote, I chydde hem spytously Nowe herkeneth howe I bere me properly. Ye wyse wyues that can vnderstande Thus shul ye speake, and bere hem on hande For halfe so boldly there can no man Swere and lye, as a woman can I saye not thys by wyues that ben wyse But yf it be, when they hem mysse auyse A wyse wyfe shal, yf that she can her gode Bere hem in honde the cowe is wode And take wytnesse of her owne mayde Of her assent: but herkeneth howe I sayde. ¶Syr olde steynarde, is thys thyn array why is my neyghbours wyfe so gay? She is honoured ouer al where she goth I sytte at home, and haue no thryfty cloth what dost thou at my neyghbours hous? Is she so fayre art thou so amorous? what rownest thou w^t our mayd benedicite Syr olde lechour, let thy iapes be And yf I haue a gossyp or a frende (wythout gylt) thou chydest as a fende Yf that I walke or play vnto hys house Thou comest home as dronkē as a mouse And prechest on thy benche wyth euel prefe Thou sayest to me, it is a great myschefe To wedde a poore woman for costage And yf that she be rych of hygh parage Then sayst thou, it is a very tourmentry To suffre her pryde and her melancoly And yf that she be fayre, thou very knaue Thou sayest that euery holour wol her haue She may no whyle in chastite abyde That is assayled on euery syde Thou sayst some folke desyrē vs for rychesse Some for our shape, & some for our fairnesse And some, for she can eyther synge or daunce And some for gentylnesse or for daliaunce Some for her handes and her armes smale Thus goeth al to the deuel by thy tale Thou sayst mē may not kepe a castel wall It may so longe assayled be ouer all And yf that she be foule, thou sayest that she Coueteth euery man that she may se For as a spaneyl, she wol on hem lepe

Tyll y^t she fynde some man y^t wold her chepe Ne none so gray gese goth there in the lake (As sayst thou) wol ben wythout her make And sayst, it is a harde thynge for to welde A wyght, that no man wol his thanke helde Thus sayst thou lorel, when y^u gost to bed That no wyseman nedeth for to wedde Ne no man that entendeth vnto heuen wyth wylde thunder dent and fyre leuen Mote thy wycked necke be to broke. Thou sayst, droppyng houses, & eke smoke And chydyng wyues, maken men to flee Out of her owne house, ah, benedicite what ayleth such an olde man for to chyde? Thou sayst, we wyues wol our vyces hyde Tyl we be fast, and then we wol hem shewe wel may thys be a prouerbe of a shrewe. Thou sayst, y^t oxen, horse, asses, & houndes They ben assayde at dyuers stoundes Basyns, lauers, er that men hem bye Spones, stoles, and al suche husbondrye And so be pottes, clothes, and arrayes But folke of wyues maken none assayes Tyl they ben wedded, olde dottarde shrewe And sayst, how we wol thē our vyces shewe Thou sayest also, that it dyspleaseth me But yf that thou wylt prayse my beaute And but thou pore alwaye on my face And clepe me fayre dame in euery place And but thou make a feest on that yske day That I was borne, & make me freshe & gay And but thou done to my norice honour And to my chamberer wythin my bour And to my fathers folke, and hys alyes Thus sayest thou olde barel ful of lyes And yet of our prentyse Ienkyn For hys cryspe heer, shynyng as golde fyne And for he squyreth me both vp and down Hast thou caught a false suspectioun I wol hym not, tho y^u were deed to morowe. But tel me this, why hidest thou w^t sorowe The keyes of thy chest away fro me? It is my good as wel as thyne parde what, wenest y^u make an ydiot of our dame Nowe by y^e lorde, y^t called is saynt Iame Thou shalt not both though y^u were wode Be mayster of my body and of my good That one y^u shalt forgon maugre thyne eyen what helpeth it of me to enquere and spyen? I trowe thou woldest locke me in thy chyst? Thou shuldest saye: wyfe, go where you lyst Take your dysporte, I wol leue no tales I knowe you for a trewe wyfe dame Ales we loue no man, that taketh kept or charge where that we go, we wol be at our large ¶Of al men yblessed mote he be The wyse astrologien dan Ptholome That sayth thys prouerbe in his almagest Of al men hys wysedome is the best That recketh not who hath y^e world in hāde By thys prouerbe thou shalt vnderstande Haue thou ynowe, what dare y^e recke or care Howe merely that other folke fare For certes, olde dottarde by your leue Ye shal haue queynte ynowe at eue He is to great a nygarde that wol werne A man, to lyght a candel at hys lanterne He shal haue neuer the lasse lyght parde Haue thou ynowe, thou darst not playne the Thou sayst also, that yf we make vs gaye wyth clothes, or wyth precious arraye That it is peryl of our chastite And yet with sorow, thou must enforsen the And saye these wordes in the apostels name In habyte made with chastite & shame Ye women shulde appareyle you ({quod} he) And not in tressed heir, and gaye perre As perle, ne wyth golde, ne clothes ryche After the texte, ne after thy rubryche I nyl not worche as moche as a gnatte. ¶Thou sayest also, I was lyke a catte But who so wolde senge the cattes skynne Then wolde the catte dwellen in hys ynne And yf the cattes skyn be slicke and gaye She nyl not dwel in house halfe a daye But forth she wol or any daye be dawed To shewe her skyn, and gon a carrewaued. ¶Thus thou sayest, yf I be gay syr shrewe I wol ren out, my borel for to shewe Syr olde foole, what helpeth the to spyen For though thou play Argus w^t hys. C. eyen To be my wardcors, as he can best In fayth he shal not kepe me but me lest Yet couth I make hys berde, so mote I the ¶Thou sayest eke, y^t there ben thynges thre The whyche troublen al thys erth And that no wyght may endure the ferth O, lefe syr shrewe, Iesu shorte thy lyfe Yet prechest thou, & sayest: an hateful wyfe I rekened is, for one of these myschaunces Ben there none other resemblaunces? That ye maye lyken your parable to But yf a sely wyfe be one of tho. Thou lykenest eke, womens loue to hell

To barayn londe, there water may nat dwel Thou lykenest it also to wylde fyre The more it brenneth, the more it hath desyre To consume any thyng that brent wolde be. Thou saiest, right as wormes shendē a tre Right so a wyfe distroyeth her husbonde This knowen they that ben to wyues bonde ¶Lordīges, right thus as ye haue vnderstōd Bare I stiffely myn olde husbande on honde That thus they sayden in her dronknesse And al was false, but as I toke witnesse Of Ienkyn, and of my nece also O lorde the payne I dyd hem, and the wo Ful gyltles by goddes swete pyne For as an horse, I couth both byte & whyne I couth playn, though I were in the gylte Or els often tyme I had ben spylte who so fyrst to myl cometh, fyrst grynt I playned fyrst, and so was our warre islynt They were ful glad to excusen hem blyue Of thyng, that they a gylt neuer in her lyue Of wenches wol I bere hem on honde whan y^t for sicke, vnnethes might they stond Yet tickled I his hert, for that he Wende I had of him so great cheerte I swore, that al my walkyng out by nyght Was for to espy wenches, that he dight Vnder that colour had I moche myrthe For al suche witte, is gyuen vs in oure birthe Disceite, wepyng, spynnyng, god hath gyue To women, kyndly while that they lyue And thus of o thyng I may auaunt me At thende I had the best in eche degre By sleyght or force, or by some maner thyng As by contynual murmure or grutchyng Namely a bedde had they mischaunce There wolde I chide, & don bē no plesaunce I wolde no lenger in the bedde abyde (Yf I felte hys arme ouer my syde) Tyl he had made his raunsom vnto me Than wolde I suffre hym do hys nycete And therfore, euery man thys tale I tel wyue who so may, al ben for to sel with empty hondes men may no haukeslure For wynnyng wolde I al his lust endure And make me than a fayned appetite. And yet in bacon had I neuer delyte That maked me euer y^t I wolde hem chide For though the pope had sytten hem besyde I wolde nat spare hem at her own borde For be my trouth I quit hem word for word As helpe me very god omnypotent Tho I right nowe shulde make my testamēt I ne owe hem a worde, but it is quytte I brought it so about by my wytte That they must gyue it vp, as for the best Or els had we neuer ben in rest For though he loked as wode as a lyon Yet shulde he fayle of hys conclusyon. Than wolde I say, good lete take kepe Howe mekely loketh wylken shepe Come nere my spouse, & let me kysse your cheke Ye shulde be al pacient and meke And haue aswete spiced conscience Sithe ye so preche of Iobs pacyence Suffreth alway, syth ye so wel can preche And but yf you do, we shal you teche That it is fayre to haue a wyfe in pees One of vs two mote obeyen doutles And sithe a man is more resonable Than a woman is ye must ben sufferable what ayleth you to grutche thus and grone? Is it for ye wolde haue my queynt alone? why take it al, lo, haue it euery del Peter I shrewe you, but ye loue it wel. For if I wolde sel my belechose I couth walke as freshe as any rose But I wol kepe it for your owne toth Ye be to blame by god, I say you soth Suche maner wordes had we on honde Now wol I speke of my fourth husbonde. ¶My fourth husbonde was a reuelour This is to say, he had a paramont And I was yong and ful of ragery Stubburne and stronge, and ioly as a pye wel coude I daunce to an harpe finale And syng ywis, as a nyghtingale Whā I had dronkē a draught of swete wine Metellus, the soule churle the swyne That with a staffe byrafte hys wyfe her lyfe For she droke wine: though I had be his wife Ne shulde he nat haue daunted me fro drinke And after wyne of Venus must I thynke For also seker, as colde engendreth hayle A lycorus mouth must haue a lecherous taile In women vynolent is no defence This knowe lechours by experience. But lorde Christ, whan it remembreth me Vpon my youth, and my iolyte It tickleth me about myne hert rote Vnto this day it dothe myne hert bote That I haue had my worlde, as in my tyme But age alas, that al wol enuenyme Hath me birafte my beaute, and my pith

Let go farewel, the deuel go therwyth The floure is gone, there nys no more tel The bran (as I best can) nowe mote I sel But yet to be ryght mery wol I fonde Now forth to tel of my fourth husbonde. ¶I saye I had in hert great dyspyte That he of any other had delyte But he was quyte, by god and by saynt Ioce I made hym of the same wode a troce Not of my body in no foule manere But certaynly, I made folke such chere That in hys owne grece I made hym fry For anger, and for very ielousy By god, in erth I was hys purgatory For whych I hope hys soule be in glory For god it wote, he satte ful ofte and songe when that hys shoe ful bytterly him wronge There was none, saue god and he, that wyst In many wyse, howe sore that I him twyst He dyed when I came fro Hierusalem And lyeth in graue vnder the Rode beem Al nys hys tombe so curious As was the sepulture of hym Darius whych that Appelles wrought so subtelly It is but wast to bury hym preciously Let him farwel, god giue his soule good rest He is nowe in hys graue and in hys chest. ¶Nowe of my fyfth husbande wol I tel God let neuer hys soule come in hel And yet was he to me the most shrewe That fele I on my rybbes al by rewe And euer shal, vnto myne endynge day But in our bedde he was so freshe and gay And therwythal, he couth so wel me glose when that he wolde haue my bele chose That though he had me bete on euery bone He couth wynne ayen my loue anone I trowe I loued hym the better, for that he was of hys loue so daungerous to me we women haue, yf that I shal not lye In thys matere, a queynt fantasy wayte what thyng we may not lightly haue Therafter wol we alday crye and craue Forbyd vs thynge, and that desyren we Prese on fast, and then wol we flee wyth daunger vttren we al our chaffare Great prees at market maketh dere ware And to great chepe is holde at to lytel pryce Thys knoweth euery woman that is wyse. ¶My fyfth husbande, god hys soule blesse whych I toke for loue and no rychesse He somtyme was a clerke of Oxenforde And had lefte schole, & wēt at home to borde wyth my gossyp, dwellynge in our town God haue her soule, her name was Alysoun She knewe my hert, and eke my priuety Better then our paryshe preest so mote I the To her bewrayed I my counsayle al For had my husbande pyst agaynst the wal Or done a thynge, y^t shulde haue cost his lyfe To her, and another worthy wyfe And to my nece, whych that I loued wel I wolde haue tolde hys counsayle euery dell And so I dyd ful often god it wote That made hys face ful ofte reed and hote For very shame, and blamed hym ofte, for he Had tolde to me so great a preuyte. ¶And so befyl, that ones in a lent So ofte tyme I to my gossyp went For euer yet I loued to go gaye And for to walke in March, Apryll, & Maye Fro house to house, to herken sondry tales That Ienkē clerke, & my gossep dame Ales And I my selfe, into the feldes went My husbonde was at london al that lent I had the better layser for to pleye And for to se, and eke for to be sey Of lusty folke, what wyst I where my grace was shapen for to ben, or in what place? Therfore made I my visytations To vigilles, and to processions To preachyng eke, and to pilgrymages To playes of myracles, and to mariages And weared on my gay skarlet gytes The wormes, these moghtes, ne these mites Vpon my parel frette hem neuer a del And wost thou why? for they were vsed wel Nowe wol I tel forth what happed me I saye, that in the feldes walked we Tyl truely we had suche daliaunce Thys clerke and I, that of my purueyaunce I speake to hym, and sayd how that he Yf I were wedowe, shulde wedde me For certaynly, I say for no bobaunce Yet was I neuer wythout purueyaunce Of mariage, ne of other thynges eke I holde a mousses wytte not worth a leke That hath but one hole to sterten to And yf that fayle, then is al ydo. I bare hym on hāde he had enchaūted me My dame taught me forsoth that subtylte And eke I sayd, I mette of hym al nyght He wolde a slayne me, as I laye vpryght And al my bedde was ful of very blood

But yet I hope truely he shulde do me good For blode betokeneth gold, as I was taught & al was fals, I dremed of him right nauʒt But as I folowed aye my dames lore As wel of that, as of other thynges more. But now syr let me se, what shal I sayne? Aha, by god I haue my tale agayne when y^t my fourth husbande was on bere I wept algate, and made sory chere As wyues moten, for it is vsage And wyth my kerchefe couered my vysage But for that I was pu••ueyed of a make I wept but smal, and that I vndertake To church was my husbād borne on morow wyth neyghbours, that for hym made sorow And Ianken our clerke was one of tho As helpe me god, when that I sawe him go After the bere, me thought he had a payre Of legges and of fete, so clene and so fayre That al my herte I yaue vnto hys holde He was I trowe, twenty wynter olde And I was fourty, yf that I shal saye sothe But yet I had alway a coltes tothe Gaptothed I was, & that bycame me wele I had the printe of dame Venus seele As helpe me god, I was a lusty one And fayre, ryche, & yonge, and wel bygone And truely, as myn husbande tolde me I had the best queynte that myght be For certes I am al fully Venetian In felynge, and my herte is Marcian Venus me yaue my lust & my lycorousnesse And Mars yaue me my sturdy hardynesse Myn ascendent was Taure, & Mars therin Alas alas, that euer loue was syn I folowed aye myne inclination By vertue of my constellation That made me I couth not wythdrawe My chambre of Venus from a good felawe Yet haue I Martes marke vpon my face And also in another preuy place For god so wysly be my saluation I loued neuer by no dyscretion But euer folowed myne appetyte Al were he shorte, longe, blacke, or whyte I toke no kepe, so that he lyked me Howe poore he was, ne eke of what degre. what shuld I say▪ but at y^e monethes ende Thys ioly clerke Ianken, that was so hende Hath wedded me wyth great solempnite And to hym ya••e I al the lande and fee That euer was yeuen me here byfore But afterwarde repented me ful sore He nolde suffre nothynge of my lyste By god he smote me ones wyth hys fyst For that I rente out of hys boke a lefe That of that stroke, my eres wext defe Stubborne I was, as is a lyonesse And of my tonge a very tangleresse And walke I wolde, as I had done byforne Fro house to house, although he had it sworn For which ful oft tyme wolde he preche And me of olde Romayne iestes teche How he Sulpicius Gallus left hys wyfe And her forsoke terme of hys lyfe Not but for open heed he her sey Lokynge out at hys dore on a dey An other Romayne tolde he me by name That for hys wyfe was at a sommer game wythout hys wetynge, he forsoke her eke And then wolde he vpon hys Byble seke That ylke prouerbe of Ecclesiaste where he cumaundeth, and forbyddeth fast A mā shal not suffre his wife go royle about Thē wolde he say ryght thus out of donte ¶who so buyldeth hys house al of falowes And pricketh his blynd horse ouer y^e falowes And suffreth his wyfe for to seche hallowes He is worthy to be hanged on the gallowes But al for nought, I set not an hawe Of hys prouerbes, ne of hys olde sawe Ne I wolde not of hym corrected be I hate hym that my vyces telleth me And so do mo (god wotte) then I Thys made hym wood wyth me al vtterly I nolde nat forbere him in no caas Now wol I say you soth by saint Thomas why that I rent out of hys boke a le••e For whych he smote me that I was defe He had a boke, that gladly nyght and daye For hys dysporte, he wolde rede alway He cleped it Valery, and Theophrast At whych boke he lough alway ful fast And eke ther was a clerke somtime at Rome A cardinal, that hyght saynt Ierome That made a boke ayenst Iouinian In whych boke there was eke Tertulian Crisyppus, Trotula, and Helowys That was abbesse not farre fro Parys And eke the parables of Salomon Ouydes arte, and bokes many one And al these were bounden in one volume And euery nyght and day was hys custome (when he had leyser and vacatioun

From other worldly occupatioun) To reden in this boke of wycked wyues He knewe of hem mo legendes and lyues Than ben of good women in the Byble For trusteth wel, it is an impossyble That any clerke wolde speke good of wyues But yf it ben of holy sayntes lyues Ne of non other woman neuer the mo Who peynted the lyon, tel me who? By god, yf women had writen stories As clerkes han, within her oratories They wold haue writtē of men more wicked¦nesse Than al the marke of Adam may redresse The chyldren of Mercury and Venus Ben in her workyng ful contrarious Mercury loueth wysedom and science And Venus loueth riot and dispence And for her dyuers disposition Eche falleth in others exaltation And thus god wotte, Mercury is desolate In Pisces, where Venus is exaltate And Venus falleth wher Mercury is reysed Therfore no woman of no clerke is preysed The clerke whan he is old, & may nought do Of Venus werkes, nat worth his olde shoe Than sytte he doun, and write in his dotage That women can nat kepe her mariage But nowe to purpose, why I tolde the That I was beten for a boke parde Vpon a nyght I enken, that was our syre Redde vpon his boke, as he sate by the fyre Of Eue fyrst, that for her wickednesse was al mankynde brought to wretchednesse For which y^t Iesu christ hym selfe was slayn That bought vs with his hert blode agayn Lo here expresse of women may ye fynde That woman was the losse of al mankynde Tho rad he me how sāpson lost his heeres Slepyng, his lemā cut hem with her sheres Thorowe which treson lost he both his eyen Tho rad he me, yf that I shal nat lyen Of Hercules, and of his Deianyre That caused him to sette him selfe a fyre Nothyng forgate he the care and the wo That Socrates had with his wyues two Howe that Xantippe cast pysse on his heed This sely man satte styl, as he were deed He wyped his heed, no more durst he sayn But er the thonder stynt there cometh rayn Of Pasiphae, that was quene of Crete For shreudnesse him thought that tale swete Fye, speke no more, it is a grisely thynge Of her horrible lust and her lykyng Of Clytennestra for her lechery That falsely made her husbande for to dye He rad it with wel good deuosion He tolde me eke, for what occasyon Amphiaraus at Thebes lost his lyfe My husbonde had a legende of hys lyfe Eriphilem that for an ouche of golde Hath preuely vnto the grekes tolde where that her husbonde hyd him in a place For which he had at Thebes sory grace Of Lyma tolde he me, and of Lucy They both made her husbondes for to dye That one for loue, that other was for hate Lyma her husbonde on an euyn late Enpoysoned had, for that she was his foe Lucia lykerous loued her husbonde so That for he shulde alway vpon her thynke She gaue hym suche a loue maner drynke That he was deed, er it were morowe And thus algates husbondes han sorowe Than tolde he me, howe one Latumeus Complayned to his felowe Arius That in his garden growed suche a tree On whych (he sayd) that hys wyues thre Honged hem selfe for hertes dispitous O lefe brother ({quod} this Arius) Yeue me a plant of thys blysful tree And in my garden planted shal it be. Of later date of wyues hath he redde That some han slayn her husbondes in bedde And let her lechour dight hem al the nyght whiles that the cors lay in slore vpright And some had dryue nayles in her brayne whiles they slepe, & thus they haue hē slayn Some haue yeue hem poyson in her drynke He spake more harme than hert may thynke And therwithal he knewe mo prouerbes Than in this world there groweth grasse or herbes Bette is ({quod} he) thyne habitation Be with a lyon, or a foule dragon Than with a woman vsyng for to chyde Bette is ({quod} he) hygh in the rofe to abyde Than with an angry wife down in an hous They ben so wicked and so contrarious They haten, that her husbondes louen aye He said, a woman cast her shame away whan she cast of her smocke: and farther mo A fayre woman, but she be chast also Is lyke a golde ryng on a sowes nose who coude wene, or who coude suppose The wo, that in myne hert was and pyne

And whan I sawe he wolde neuer fyne To reden on this cursed boke al nyght Al sodaynly thre leues haue I plyght Out of hys boke, right as he radde, and eke I with my fyst so toke hym on the cheke That in the fyre he fell backwarde a doun And vp he stert, as dothe a wode lyoun And with his fyst he smote me on myne heed That in the flore I laye as I were deed And whan he sey howe styl that I lay He was a gast, and wold haue fledde awaye Tyl at the last out of my swoun I brayde Oh, hast thou slayn me false thefe I sayde For my loude thus hast thou murdred me? Er I be deed, yet wol I ones kysse the And nere he cam, and kneled faire a doun And said: dere suster, swete Alysoun As helpe me god I shal the neuer smyte That I haue don, it is thy selfe to wyte Foryeue it me, and that I the beseke And yet efte sones I hytte hym on the cheke And sayd: thefe, thus moche am I be wreke Nowe wol I dye, I may no lenger speke. But at the last, with mokel care and wo we fel accorded within our seluen two He yaf me al the brydel in myne honde To haue the gouernaunce of house & londe And of hys tonge, and of hys honde also And made hym bren his boke anon tho And whan I had goten vnto me By maistry, al the soueraynte Than he sayd: myne own trewe wyse Dothe as thou lyste, the terme of al thy lyfe Kepe thyne honour, and eke myne estate Alter that day we had neuer debate God helpe me so, I was to hym as kynde As any wyfe fro Denmarke vnto Inde And also trewe, and so was he to me I praye to god, that sytte in maieste So blysse hys soule, for his mercy dere Nowe wol I say my tale yf ye wol here. ¶The frere lough whan he had herd al this Nowe dame ({quod} he) so haue I ioye or blysse This is a long preamble of a tale And whan the Sompner herd y^t frere gale Lo ({quod} this sompner) by goddes armes two A frere wol entermete hym euermo Lo good men, a flye and eke a frere wol fal in euery dishe and eke matere what spekest thou of preambulation? what amble or trot, eyther peace or syt a doū Thou lettest our disporte in this matere. ¶Yea wolt thou so syr Sōpner ({quod} y^e Frere) Nowe by my faye I shal, er that I go Tel of a Sompner, suche a tale or two That al the folke shul laugh in this place. Nowe els frere I beshrewe thy face (Quod this sompner) and I be shrewe me But yf I tel tales two or thre Of freres, er I come to Sittyngburne That shal make thyne hert for to murne For wel I wotte thy pacience is goon. ¶Our Hoost cried peace, and that anoon And sayd: Lette the woman tel her tale Ye faren as folke, that dronken ben of ale Do dame, tel forthe your tale, & that is beste Al redy syr ({quod} she) ryght as you leste If I haue lycence of thys worthy frere Yes dame, tel forthe your tale, I wol it here.

¶Here endeth the wyfe of Bathes prologue, and here be∣gynneth her tale.

I In the olde dayes of kynge I••∣toure (Of which the Bretons speken great honour) Al was thys londe fulfylled of fairy The Elfe quene, with her ioly company Daunsed ful ofte in many a grene mede This was the olde opinyon as I rede I speke of many an hundred yere a go But nowe can no man se none elfes mo For nowe the great charyte and prayers Of lymytours and other holy freres That serchen euery lande and euery streme As thicke as motes in the sonne beme Blissyng halles, chambres, kichens, & boures Cyties borowes, castelles, and hye toures Thropes, bernes, shepens, and deyties This maketh, that there ben no fayries For there as wonte to walke was an elfe There walketh now the lymitour hym selfe In vndermeles, and in mornynges And saythe hys matyns, & hys holy thynges As he gothe in hys lymitacioun women may go safely vp and doun In euery bushe, and vnder euery tre There nys none other incubus but he And he ne wyl done hem no dishonour

¶And so fel it, that this kyng Arrour Had in his house a lusty bacheler That on a day come rydyng fro the ryuer And happed, that alone as he was borne He sawe a mayde walkyng hym byforne Of whiche mayde anon, maugre her hede (By very force) he berafte her maydenhede For whiche oppression was suche clamour And suche pursute vnto kyng Artour That dampned was this knyght to be deed By course of lawe, & shuld haue lost his heed Peraduenture suche was the statute tho But that the quene, and other ladyes mo So longe prayden the kyng of grace Tyl he his lyfe graunted in that place And yaue hym to the quene, al at her wyl To chese where y^t she wolde hym saue or spil The quene thāketh y^e king w^t al her might And after this, thus spake she to the knyght whan she sey her tyme on a day ¶Thou standest yet ({quod} she) in suche aray That of thy lyfe yet haste thou no suerte I graunte y^t thy lyfe, if that thou caust tel me what thyng is it, that women moste desyren Beware, and kepe thy necke bone from yren And yf thou canste not tel it me anon Yet wol I yeue the leue for to gon A twelue moneth and a day, to seke and lere An answere suffycient in this matere And suertie wol I haue, er that thou passe Thy body for to yelde in this place. ¶wo was the knight, & soroufully he syketh But what? he may not done al as him lyketh And at laste he chese hym or to wende And come ayen, ryght at the yeres ende with such answer, as god wold hym puruay And taketh his leue, & wēdeth forth his way He seketh euery house and euery place where as he hopeth for to fynde grace To lerne, what thyng women louen moost But he ne couthe aryuen in no coost where as he myght fynde in this matere Two creatures accordyng yfere Some sayd, women loued best rychesse Some sayd honour, some sayd iolynesse Some sayd riche aray, some said lust a bedde And ofte tyme to ben wydowe and wedde. Some sayd, that our herte is moste y esed whan that we ben flatered and yplesed He gothe ful nye the sothe, I wol not lye A man shal wynne vs beste with flaterye And with attendaunce, and with busynesse Ben we ilymed bothe more and lesse. And some men sayn, how y^t we louen beste For to ben fre, and do right as vs leste And that no man repreue vs of our vyce But say that we be wyse, & nothyng nyce For trewly there nys none of vs al If any wight wol clawe vs on the gall That we nyl kyke, for that he sayth vs sothe Assay, and he shal fynde it, that so dothe For be we neuer so victous within we wol be holden wyse and clene of syn And some men sayn, y^t great delite haue we For to ben holde stable and eke secre And in o purpose stedfastly to dwel And nat bewray thyng that men vs tel But that tale is nat worthe a rake stele Parde we women con nothyng hele witnesse of Midas, wol ye here the tale ¶Ouyde, among other thynges smale Said, Midas had vnder his long heeres Growyng on his heed, two asses eeres The whiche vice he hidde, as he beste myght Ful subtelly from euery mannes syght That saue his wyfe, there wist of it no mo He loued her most, and trusted her also He prayde her, that to no creature She nolde tellen of his disfygure. She swore him, nat for al y^e world to wyn She nolde do that villany, ne that syn To makē her husbonde haue so foule a name She nolde nat tel it for her own shame But natheles, her thought that she dyde That she so long shulde a counsayle hyde Her thought it swole so sore about her hert That nedely some worde she most a stert And syth she durst tellen it to no man Down to a marris fast by she ran Tyl she came there, her hert was on a fyre And as a byttour bumbeth in the myre She layd her mouth vnto the water adown Bewray me nat thou water with thy sown Quod she, to the I tel it, and to no mo My husbonde hath long Asses eres two Nowe is myne hert al hole, nowe it is out I myght no lenger kepe it out of dout. ¶Here mowe ye se, though we a tyme abyde Yet out it mote, we can no counsayle hyde The remenaunt of the tale, yf ye wyl here Redeth Ouyde, and there ye may it lere. ¶This knight, of which my tale is specially whan that he sawe, he might not come therby This is to say, what women louen moste

Within his herte sorowful was hys goste But home he gothe, he myght nat soiourne The day was come, he muste home returne And in his way, it happed hym to ryde In al hys care, vnder a foreste syde Where he sawe vpon a daunce go Of ladyes foure and twenty, and yet mo Toward the daūce he drowe him, & y^t yerne In hope that some wysedome shuld he lerne But certaynly, er that he came fully there Vanyshed was the daūce, he niste not where No creature sawe he that bare lyfe Saue in y^e grene, he saw sytting an old wife A fouler wyght there may no man deuyse Agayne the knyght the olde wyfe gan aryse And sayd: syr knight, here forth lyeth no way Tel me what ye seken by your fay Parauenture it may the better be This olde folke conne moche thyng ({quod} she) ¶My lyfe mother ({quod} thys knyght) certayne I nam but deed, but yf that I can sayne what thyng it is, y^t womē moste desyre Coude ye me wilse, I wolde quite wel your hyre Plight me thy trouth here in my hōde ({quod} she) The next thyng that I require the Thou shalte it do, yf it be in thy myght And I wol tel it you, or it be nyght. Haue here my trouth ({quod} y^e knight) I graunt ¶Than quod she, I may me wel auaunt Thy lyfe is safe, for I wol stonde therby Vpon my lyfe, the quene wyl say as I Let se, whiche is the proudest of hem al That weareth on a kerchefe or a cal That dare say nay, of that I shal you teche Let vs go forthe without lenger speche. Tho rowned she a pistel in his ere And bade hym to be glad, and haue no fere. ¶whā they ben comē to y^e court, thys knyght Sayd, he had holde his day, as he had hight And redy was hys answere, as he sayde Ful many a noble wyfe, and many a mayde And many a wydowe, for that they be wyse The quene her selfe, syttyng as a iustyse Assembled ben, his answere for to here And afterwarde this knight was bode apere To euery wight cōmaunded was sylence And that the knyght shulde tel in audyence That thyng that worldly women loued best This knyght ne stode not styl as doth a beste But to his question anon answerde with manly voyce, that al the courte it herde My liege lady: generally, quod he women desyren to haue soueraynte As wel ouer her husbondes as her loue And for to ben in maistrye hem aboue This is your moste desyre, though ye me kyl Dothe as you lyste, I am here at your wyl. ¶In al the courte nas there wyfe ne mayde Ne wydowe, that contraried, that he sayde But sayd, he was worthy han his lyfe. And with y^e worde, vp sterte the olde wyfe which y^t the knight fonde syttyng on y^e grene Mercy ({quod} she) my souerayne lady quene Er that your couete departe do me right I taught this answere vnto thys knyght For whiche he plight me hys trouthe there The fyrst thyng I wolde of hym requere He wolde it do, yf it lay in hys might Before the courte thā praye I the sir knight (Quod she) that thou me take vnto thy wyfe For wel thou woste, that I haue kept thy life If I say false, saye nay vpon thy fay ¶This knight answerd, alas and welaway I wote right wel, that suche was my beheste For goddes loue chese a newe requeste Take al my good, and let my body go. Nay {quod} she, than I shrewe vs bothe two For though that I be foule, olde and poore I nolde for al the metal ne the ore That vnder erthe is graue, or lythe aboue But yf I thy wyfe were and thy loue. ¶My loue ({quod} he) nay my dampnation Alas that any of my nacion Shulde euer so foule disparaged be But al for naught, the ende is this, that he Cōstrayned was, y^t nedes must he her wedde And taketh this olde wyfe, & gothe to bedde ¶Nowe wolden some men say parauenture That for my neglygence, I do no cure To tellen you the ioye and the array That at the feest was that ylke day. To the which thing answere shortly I shal I say there was no ioy ne feest at al There nas but heuynesse and moche sorowe For priuely he wedded her on a morowe And al day after hydde hym as an oule So wo was hym, his wife loked so foule Gret was y^e sorow y^e knight had ī his thouʒt whan he was with his wife a bedde ibrouʒt He waloweth, and turneth to and fro. ¶His olde wyfe lay smylyng euermo And sayd: O dere husbonde, O benedicite Fareth euery knight thus as ye? Is this the lawe of kyng Artours house

Is euery knyght of his loue so daungerouse I am your owne loue, and eke your wyfe I am she, whiche that saued hath your lyfe And certes yet dyd I neuer you vnryght why fare ye thus with me the fyrst nyght Ye ••acen lyke a man that had loste hys witte Fy, what is my gilte: for gods loue tel me it And it shal be amended yf I may. ¶Amended ({quod} this knyght) alas nay nay That wol not ben amended neuer mo Thou arte so lothly, and so olde also And therto comen of so lowe a kynde That litel wōder is thogh I walow & wind So wolde god ({quod} he) myne herte wold brest. ¶Is this ({quod} she) the cause of your onrest? Ye certaynly quod he, no wonder nys. ¶Nowe syr ({quod} she) I couthe amende al this If that me lyst, er it were dayes thre So wel ye myght beare you vnto me. But for ye speke of suche gentylnesse As is discended out of olde richesse That therfore shullen ye be gentilmen Suche errogaunce is not worthe an hen, Lo who that is moste vertuous alway Preuy and aperte, and most entendeth aye To do the gentyl dedes, that he can Take hym for the greatest gentylman. Christ wolde we claymed of hym our gentyl¦nesse Not of our elders, for our olde richesse For though they yeue vs al her herytage For which we claymen to ben of hye parage Yet may they not byquethe, for no thyng To none of vs, her vertuous lyuyng That made hem gentylmen ycalled be And badde vs folowen hem in suche degre. ¶Wel can the wyse poete of Florence That hyght Daunte, speke in thys sentence Lo in suche maner ryme is Dauntes tale Ful selde vp ryseth by his braunches smale Prowesse of man: for god of his goodnesse wol that we clayme of hym oure gentylnesse For of our elders may we nothyng clayme But tēporal thyng, y^t mē may hurte & maym Eke euery wight wote this as wel as I If gentilnesse were planted naturally Vnto a certayne lynage downe the lyne Preuy & aperte, than wolde they neuer fyne To done of gentilnesse the fayre offyce They might don no vilanye ne vice. Take fyre & beare it in to the derkest hous Bytwixt this and the mounte Caucasus And let men shytte the dores, and go thenne Yet wol the fyre as fayre lye and brenne As twenty thousande men might it beholde His offyce natural aye wol it holde Vp peryl of my lyfe, ••yl that it dye. ¶Here may ye se wel, howe that gentrye Is not annexed to possession Sythen folke don not her operacion Alway as dothe the fyre, lo in hys kynde For god it wotte, men may ful often fynde A lordes sonne done shame and vilanye And he that wol haue praise of hys gentrye For he was borne of a gentil house And had his elders noble and vertuouse And nyl him selfe don no gentil dedes Ne folowe his gentil auncetre that deed is He nys not gentyl, be he duke or erle Fye vilaynes, synful dedes maketh a cherle For gentilnesse nys but the renomie Of thyne aunceters, for her hygh bountie Whiche is a stronge thyng to thy persone The gentylnesse cometh fro god alone Than cometh our very gentylnesse of grace It was nothyng byqueth vs with our place. ¶Thynketh howe noble, as sayth Valerius was thylke Tullius Hostilius That out of pouertie rose to hye noblesse Redeth Senek, and redeth eke Boece There shal ye seen expresse, no drede is That he is gentil, that dothe gentil dedes And therfore dere husbonde, I thus conclude All were it that myne aunceters were rude Yet may that hye god, and so hope I Graunt me grace to lyue vertuously Than am I gentil, whan I begynne To lyue vertuously, and leuen synne And there as ye of pouertie me repren•• The hye god, on whom that we byleue In wylful pouerte chese to lede his lyfe And certes euery man, mayde, and wyfe Maye vnderstonde, Iesu heuen kyng Ne wolde not chese a viciouse lyuyng Glad pouert is an honest thyng certayne This wol Seneke and other clerkes sayne who so wolde hold him payde of his pouerte I holde hym ryche, al had he not a sherte He that coueyteth is a ful poore wyght For he wolde han, that is not in hys myght But he y^t naught hath, ne coueyteth to haue Is rych, al though ye holde him but a knaue Very pouert is synne properly Iuuenal saythe of pouert merily The poore man, whan he gothe by the way

Byforne theues, he may synge and play Pouert is hateful good••and as I gesse A ful great bringer out of busynesse A great amendet eke of sapience To hym that taketh it in pacience Pouert is, al thoughe it seme elenge Possession, that no wyght wol-chalenge. Pouerte ful often, whan a man is lowe Maketh hys god and eke him selfe to knowe Pouert a spectacle is, as thynketh me Through which one may his very frendes se And therfore, syn that I you not greue Of my pouert, no more me repreue ¶Nowe syr, eke of elde ye repreued me And certes syr, though none autorite Were in no booke, ye gentils of honour Sayne that men shuld an old wight honour And clepe hem father for her gentilnesse And autours shal I fynde, as I gesse. ¶Now there as ye sayn, y^t I am foule & olde Than drede you not to ben a coke wolde For fylthe, elthe, and foule, also mote I the Ben great wardeyus vpon chastite But natheles, syn I knowe your delyte I shal fulfyl your worldly appetyte Chese now ({quod} she) one of these thīges tw••y To haue me foule and olde, tyl that I dry And be to you a trewe humble wyfe And neuer you displease in al my lyfe Or els wol ye haue me yonge and fayre And take your auenture of the repayre That shal come to your house, bycause of me Or in some other place, may wel be▪ Now chese your seluē, whether y^t you lyketh ¶This knyght auyseth hym, and sore syketh But at the last, he sayd in this manere: My lady and my loue, and wyfe so dere I put me in your wyse gouernaunce Cheseth your selfe, which maye be more ple∣saūce And moste honour to you and me also I do no force whether of the two For as you lyketh, it suffyseth me. Thā haue I gote of you y^e maistry ({quod} she) Syn I may chese, & gouerne as my leste Ye certes wyfe, {quod} he) I holde it for the beste. kysse me ({quod} she) we ben no lenger wrothe For by my trouthe, I wol be to you bothe This is to say, to be bothe fayre & good I pray to god that I mote sterue wood But I to you be also good and trewe As euer was wyfe sythē y^e world was newe And but I be to morowe as fayre to sene As any lady, empresse, or quene That is bytwene the Este & eke the weste Dothe with my lyfe right as you leste Cast vp the courteyn, and loke howe it is. ¶And whan the knyght sawe al this That she so fayre was, and so yonge therto For ioy he hente her in his armes two His herte bathed in a bathe of blysse A thousande tymes a rowe he gan her kysse And she obeyed hym in euery thyng That mought done hym pleasure or lykyng And thus they lyued vnto her lyues ende In parfyte ioy: and Iesu Christ vs sende Husbondes meke, yonge, and freshe a bedde And grace to ouerlyue hem that we wedde. And eke I pray to god, to short her lyues That wyl not be gouerned by her wyues And olde, and angry nygardes of dispence God sende hem sone a very pestylence.

¶Here endeth the wyfe of Bathes tale and here begynneth the streres prologue.

THis worthy lymytour, thys noble frere He made alway a maner lou¦rynge chere Vpon the Sompner, but for honeste No vilaynes worde as yet to hym spake he But at the last, he sayd to the wyfe Dame, god yeue you right good lyfe Ye haue touched here, also mote I the In schole mater, a ful great diffyculte Ye haue sayd moche thyng right wel I saye But dame, here as we ryden by the waye Vs nedeth not to speken but of game And lete auctorites a goddes name To prechyng, and to schole of clargy. But yf it lyke vnto this companye I wol you of a Sompner tel a game Parde ye may wel knowe by the name That of a Sompner may no good be sayde I pray, that none of you be yuel a payde A sompner is a renner vp and doun with maundementes, for fornycation And is ybeate at euery townes ende. Tho spake our host & said: sir ye shulde ben hende And curteys, as a man of your estate In this companye we wol no debate

Telleth your tale, and let the sompner be Nay ({quod} the Sompner) let hym say to me what so hym lyst: whan it cometh to my lote By god I shal hym quite euery grote I shal hym tel whiche a great honour It is, to be a flatteryng lymytour And eke of many an other maner cryme whiche nedeth not to rehersen at this tyme And hys offyce I shal hym tel iwys Our hoste answerde: peace, no more of thys And afterwarde he sayd vnto the frere Tel forthe your tale, myn own maister dere.

¶Here endeth the Freres pro∣logue, and here after fo∣loweth his tale.

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WHylom there was dwel¦lyng in my countre An archedeken, a man of hye degre That boldly dyd execu∣tion In punishyng of forni∣cation Of withcrafte, and eke of baudrie Of defamacion, and aduoutrie Of churche reues, and of testamentes Of contractes, and lacke of sacramentes Of vsure, and of symonye also But certes lechours dyd he moche wo They shulden synge, yf they weren hente And smale tythers, they were foule ishent If any person wolde vpon hem playne There might asterte hem no pecunyal payne For smale tythes, and smal offrynge He made the people pitously to synge For er the bishop caught hem with hys hoke They were in the archedekens booke And than had he (through hys iurdictyon) Power to done on hem correction He had a Sompner redy to his honde A slyer boye was there none in Englonde For subtelly he had his espiayle That taught hym where he myght auayle. He couthe spare of lechours one or two To techen hym to foure and twenty mo For thogh this sōpner wode were as an hare To tel his harlotrye I wol not spare For we ben out of hys correction They haue of vs no iurdiction Ne neuer shullen, terme of al her lyues. ¶Peter so ben women of the stewes ({quod} this Sompner) yput out of our cure Peace with mischaūce, & with misauenture Sayd our hoste, and let hym tel hys tale Now telleth forthe, & let the Sompner gale Ne spareth not, myne owne maister dere. ¶This fals thefe, this Sōpner ({quod} the frere) Had alway baudes redy to hys honde As any hauke to lure, in Englonde That telleth hym al the secre that they knew For her aquayntaūce was not come of newe They weren his aprouers priuely He toke hym selfe a great profyte therby His maister knewe not alway what he wan Without maundement, a leude man He coude sommon, on payne of christes curse And they were glad to fyllen hys purse And made hym great feestes at the nale And right as Iudas had purses smale And was a thefe, right suche thefe was he His maister had but halfe his deutie He was (yf I shal yeuen hym hys laude) A thefe, a sompner, and eke a baude. He had eke wenches of hys retinue That whether syr Roberde, or syr Hue Or Iohan, or Rafe, or who so that it were That lay by hem, they tolde it in his eere Thus were y^e wenches and he of one assent And he wolde fetche a fayned maundement

And sommon hem to the chapitre bothe two And pylle the man, and let the wenche go Than wolde he say, frende I shal for thy sake Do stryken the out of our letters blake The dare no more as in this case trauayle I am thy frende, there I may the auayle Certayne he knewe of bribries mo Than possible is to tel in yeres two For in this worlde nys dogge for the bowe That can an hurte dere from an hole knowe Bet than the Sompner knewe a slye lechour Or auoutrer, or els any paramour For that was the fruite of al hys rente Therfore on it he sette al hys entent. And so befyl that ones on a day This Sompner waytynge euer on his pray Rode for to sommō an old wedowe a ribybe Faynyng a cause, for he wolde haue a bribe And happed that he sawe beforn hym ryde A gay yoman vnder a forest syde A bowe he bare, and arowes bright & shene He had vpon him a courtpye of grene An hatte vpon his heed with strynges blake Sir {quod} this sompner, haile and wel ytake ¶Welcome {quod} he, and euery good felawe whider ridest y^u vnder this grenwode shawe Sayd this yoman, wolte thou ferre to day? This sompner hym answerd, and sayd nay Here fast by ({quod} he) is myne entent To ryden, for to reysen vp a rent That longeth to my lordes dewte. Arte thou than a bayly: ye ({quod} he) He durst nat than, for very fylth and shame Say that he was a Sompner, for the name Depardieur, {quod} this yoman, lefe brother Thou arte a bayly, and I am another I am vnknowen, as in this countre Of thyne acqueyntaunce I wol pray the And eke of brotherhed, yf that thou list I haue golde and syluer in my chist Yf that ye happe to come in our shyre Al shal be thyne, right as thou wolt desyre Graūt mercy {quod} this sompner, by my faithe Euerich in other his trouthe laythe For to be sworne brethern, tyl they dey And with y^t worde they riden forth her wey This sompner w^t that, was as ful of iāgles As ful of venym, as ben these wariangles And euer enquyring vpon euery thyng Brother {quod} he, where is your dwellyng Another day, yf that I shulde you seche? This yoman hym answerde in soft speche Brother {quod} he, ferre in the North countre where as I hope somtyme I shal the se Or we departe, I shal the so wel wysse That of myne house thou shalte neuer mysse Now brother {quod} this sompner, I you pray Teche me, while we ryden by the way Sith that ye ben a baylye, as am I Some subtelte, tel me faithfully In myne offyce, howe I may most wynne And spareth nat for conscience ne for synne But as my brother, tel me howe don ye Nowe by my trouth brother dere sayd he As I shal tellen the a faithful tale My wages ben ful straite and smale My lorde is harde to me and daungerous And myne offyce ful laborous And therfore, by extortion I leue Forsothe al that men wol me yeue Algate by sleyght or by violence From yere to yere, I wyn al my dispence I can no better tellen faithfully Nowe certes {quod} this sompnour, so fate I I spare nat to take god it wote But yf it be to heuy or to hote That I may getten in counsayle priuely No maner conscience of that haue I Nere myne extorcion I myght not lyuen Of suche iapes wol I nat be shriuen Stomake ne conscience knowe I non I shrewe al these shrift fathers euerichon wel be we met by god and swete saynt Iame But lefe brother, tel me thy name Quod this sompner, in thys mean while This yoman gan a lytel for to smyle ¶Brother {quod} he, wolte thou that I the tel? I am a fende, my dwellyng is in hel And here I ride about my purchasyng To wete where I may gete any thyng My purchase is theffecte of al my rent Loke howe thou ridest for the same entent To wyne good, thou reckest neuer howe Right so fare I, for ride wol I nowe Vnto the worldes ende for a pray Ah, {quod} this sompner, benedicite, what ye say I wende ye were a woman trewly Ye haue a mannes shappe as wel as I Haue ye a fygure than determynate In hel, there ye ben in your estate? Nay certaynly {quod} he, there haue we non But whan vs lyketh, we can take vs one Or els make you seme we ben shape Somtyme lyke a man or lyke an ape

Or lyke an Angel can I ryde or go It is no wonder thyng though it be so A lousy iuggler can disceyue the And parde yet can I more crafte than he why {quod} the Sompnour, ride ye thā or gon In sondrie shappe, and nat alway in one? For we {quod} he, wol vs suche forme make As most able is our prayes for to take what maketh you to haue al this labour? ¶Ful many a cause lefe syr Sompnour Sayd this fende, but al thyng hath tyme The day is short, and it is passed pryme And yet ne gote I nothyng in this day I wol enrende to wynnyng, yf that I may And nat entende our wyttes to declare For brother myne, thy wyttes ben al to bare To vnderstand al, though I wolde tel hē the But for thou askest why laboren we For somtyme be we goddes instrumentes And meanes to don his cōmaundementes what that hym lust on his creatures In dyuers arte and in dyuers fygures withouten hem we haue no might certayn Yf that him lyst to stonden there agayn And somtyme at our praye haue we leue Onely the body, & nought the soule to greue wytnesse of Iob, whom we deden wo And somtyme haue we myght of bothe two This is to sayn, of body and soule eke And somtyme we ben suffred for to seke Vpon a man, and don his soule vnrest And nat his body, and al is for the best whan he withstandeth our temptation It is a cause of hys saluation Al be it that it was nat our entent He shuld be safe, but that we wolde him hent And somtyme be we seruauntes vnto man As the archbysshoppe saynt Dunstan And to the Apostel eke seruaunt was I Yet tel me {quod} this Sompnour faithfully Make ye you newe bodies thus alway Of elementes▪ the fende answered nay Somtyme we fayn, and somtyme we aryse with deed bodies in sondrie wise And speke as renably, fayre and wel As the Phitonesse dyd to Samuel And yet wolde some men say it was nat he I do no force of your deuynite But o thyng I warne the, I wol nat iape Thou wolte algates wete howe we be shape Thou shalt herafterwarde (my brother dere) Come, where the nedeth nat of me to lere For thou shalt by thyne own experience Conne in the chare rede of thys sentence Bette than Vergyl, while he was on lyue Or Daunt also. Nowe lette vs ride blyue For I wol holde company with the Tyl it be so that thou forsake me Nay {quod} this sompnour, y^t shal nat betide I am a yoman knowen ful wyde My trouth wol I holde to y^t, as in this caas For though thou were the deuyll Sathanas My trouth wol I holde to my brother As I am sworne, and eche of vs to other For to be trewe brother in this caas And brother, we gon to our purchaas Take thou thy parte, that men wol the yeue And I shal myne, and thus shal we both leue And yf that any of vs haue more than other Let him be trew, & parte it with his brother I graunt {quod} the deuyl, by my fay And w^t that worde they riden forth her way And right at thentrynge of the rownes ende (To which y^e sompner shope him for to wēd) They sawe a carte, that charged was w^t hay which that a carter droue forth on his way Depe was the way, for which the carte stode This carter smote, & striued as he were wode Heit scot heit brok, what spare ye for y^e stones The fende {quod} he, you fetch both body & bones As ferforth as euer ye were yfoled So moche wo as I haue for you tholed The deuyl haue al, both horse, carte, & hay {quod} this sompnour, here shal we haue a pray And nere y^e fende he drew, as nouʒt ne were Ful preuily, and rowned in his ere Herken brother herken, by thy fayth Herest thou what the carter saith? Hent it anon, for he hath yeue it the Both hay and carte, and eke his caples thre Nay {quod} the deuyl, god wotte neuer a dele It is nat his entent trust me wele Aske him thy selfe, yf thou trowest nat me Or els stynt a whyle and thou shalte se. This carter thacked his horse on y^e croupe And they begon to drawe and to stoupe Heit nowe {quod} he, that Iesu christ you blesse And al his hondy werke both more and lesse That was wel ytwight myn own lyard boy I pray god saue the and saynt Loye Nywe is my carte out of the slowe parde. Lo brother {quod} the fende, what tolde I the Here may ye seen myn owne dere brother The carle spake o thīg but he thouʒt another

Lette vs go forth about our viage Here wyn we nothyng vpon cariage whā y^t they comē somwhat out of y^e town Thys Sompner to his brother gan to rown Brother {quod} he, here wonneth an olde rebecke That had almost as lefe to lese her necke As for to yeue a peny of her good I wol haue .xij. pens tho that she were wood Or I wol sompne her to our offyce And yet god wotte of her knowe I no vyce But for thou canst nat, as in this countre wynne thy cost, take here ensample of me. This Sōpner clappeth at y^e wedowes gate Come out he sayd, thou olde veritrate I trowe thou hast some frere or preest w^t the who clappeth ther said this wife, benedicite God saue you syr, what is your swete wyl I haue {quod} he, of sommōs of the here a byl Vp payne of cursyng loke that thou be To morowe before our Archdeacons kne To answere to the court of certayn thynges Nowe lorde {quod} she, Iesu kyng of kynges So wisely helpe me, as I ne may I haue ben sycke, and that ful many a day I may nat go so ferre, {quod} she, ne ryde But I be deed, so pricketh it in my syde May I nat aske a lybel syr Sompnour And answere there by my proctour To suche thyng as men wolde apposen me? Yes {quod} this Sompnour, paye anon let se Twelfe pens to me, and I wyl the acquyte I shal no profyte haue therof but lyte My maister hath the profyte, and nat I Come of and lette me ryden hastely Gyue me .xii. pens I may no lenger tary Twelf pens {quod} she, lady saynt Mary So wisely helpe me out of care and synne This wyde world though I shuld it wynne Ne haue I nat .xij. pens within my holde Ye knowe wel, that I am poore and olde Kyth your almesse on me poore wretche Nay than {quod} he, the foule fende me fetche Yf I the excuse, though thou shuldest be spylt Alas {quod} she, god wotte yet haue I no gylt ¶Paye me {quod} he, or by swete saynt Anne I wol bere away thy newe panne For dette, whiche thou owest me of olde whan thou madest thyne husbonde cokolde I payde at home for thy correction Thou lyest {quod} she, by my saluation Ne was I neuer er nowe, wedowe ne wyfe Sompned vnto your court in al my lyfe Ne neuer I nas but of my body trewe Vnto the deuyl blacke and rough of hewe Yeue I thy body and my panne also. And whan the deuyll herde her curse so Vpon her knees, he sayd in this manere Nowe mably, myne owne mother dere Is this your wyl in ernest that ye sey? The deuyl {quod} she, fette him er I dey And pan and al, but he wol hym repent. Nay olde stotte, that is nat myne entent Quod this Sompner, for to repent me For any thyng that I haue had of the I wolde I had thy smocke and euery clothe. Nowe brother {quod} the deuyl, be nat wrothe Thy body and this pan is myne by right Thou shalt with me to hel yet to nyght where thou shalte knowen of our preuyte More than a maister of deuynite And with y^e worde the foule fende him hēt Body and soule, he with the deuyl went where that Sompnours haue their heritage And god that made after hys ymage Mankynde, saue and gyde vs al and some And leue the sompnour good man to become Lordīges I coud haue told you, {quod} this frere Had I had leyser, of this Sompnour here After the text of Christ, Poule, and Iohn And of other doctours many one Suche peynes, as your hertes myght agryse Albeit so, that no tonge may it deuyse Though y^t I might a thousande wynter tel The peynes of that cursed house of hel But for to kepe vs fro that cursed place Wake, and prayeth Iesu of hys grace So kepe vs from the temptour Sathanas Herkeneth this worde, beware as ī this caas The lyon sytteth in his awayte alway To slee the innocent, yf that he may Disposeth aye your hertes to withstonde The fende, y^t you wolde make thral & bonde He may not tempte you ouer your myght For Christ wol be your champion & knyght And prayeth, that this sompnour him repēte Of hys misdede, er that the fende hym hente.

¶Here endeth the Freres tale, and be¦gynneth the Sompners prologue.

THis Sompner in his styropes hye stode Vpon this frere, his herte was so wode That lyke an aspē lefe he quoke for yre Lordynges ({quod} he) but one thyng I desyre I you beseche, that of your curtesy Sythens ye han herde this false frere lye As suffreth me I may my tale tel This frere bosteth that he knoweth hel And god wote that is lytel wonder Freres and fendes ben but lytel a sonder For parde, ye han ofte tyme herde tell Howe that a frere rauyshed was to hel In spyrit ones by a visyoun And as an angel ledde hym vp and doun To shewe hym the paynes that there were In al the place sawe he not a frere Of other folke he sawe ynowe in wo Vnto the aungel spake the frere tho Nowe syr {quod} he, han freres suche a grace That none of hem shal come in this place? ¶Yes {quod} this aungel, many a myllyoun And vnto Sathanas ladde he hym adoun And nowe hath Sathanas suche a tayle Broder than of a Caryke is the sayle Holde vp thy tayle thou Sathanas ({quod} he) Shewe forthe thyn erse, let the frere se where is the neste of freres in this place And er that halfe a forlonge way of space (Right as bees swarmen out of an hyue) Out of the dyuels erse they gan dryue Twenty thousande freres on a route And throughout hel swarmed al aboute And comen ayen, as faste as they might gon And into his erse they crepten euerychon He clapte hys tayle ayen, and lay styl. ¶This frere, whan he loked had his fyl Vpon the turmentes of thys sory place His spyrite god restored of hys grace Vnto hys body ayen, and he awoke But natheles, yet for fere he quoke So was the dyuels erse aye in hys mynde That is his heritage of very kynde God saue you al, saue this cursed frere My prologue wol I ende in this manere.

¶Here endeth the Sompners pro∣logue, and foloweth his tale.

[illustration]

LOrdynges ther is in Yorkshyre as I gesse A marshy countrey called Hol∣dernesse In whiche there went a lymy∣tour aboute To preach, and eke to begge, it is no doute And so byfel that on a day thys frere Had preched in a church in his manere And specially abouen euery thyng Exited he the people in hys prechyng To trentals, and to yeuen for goddes sake

wherwith men mighte holy houses make There as diuyne seruyce is honoured Not there as it is wasted and deuoured Ne there it nedeth not for to be yeuen As to possesseioners that mowen els lyuen Thonked be god, in wele and haboundaunce Trentals delyuereth (sayde he) fro penaunce Her frendes soules, as wel olde as yonge If that they by hastely isonge Not for to holde a preest ioly and gay (He syngeth not but one messe a day) Delyuereth out ({quod} he) anon the soules Ful harde it is with fleshe hoke or w^t oules To ben yelawed, or to brenne or bake Nowe spedeth you hastely for Christes sake. And whan this frere had said al his entent with qui cum patre, forthe hys way he went whē folke ī church, had yeue him what hē lest He went his way, no ••enger wolde he rest with scryppe & typped staffe, ytucked hye In euery house he gan to pore and prye And begged mele and chese, or els come His felowe had a slasse typped with horne A payre of tables al of Iuory And a poyntel polished fetously And wrote alway the names as he stoode Of al folke, that yaue hym any goode Askaunce as he wolde for hem prey Yeue vs a bushel wheate, malte or rey A goddes kychel, or a tryppe of chese Or els what ye lyst, I may not chese A goddes halfpeny, or a masse peny Or yeue vs of your brawne, yf ye haue any A dagon of your blanket, leue dame Our suster dere, lo here I write your name Bacon or befe, or suche thyng as ye fynde A sturdy harlot went hem ay behynde That was her hostes man, and bare a sacke And that mē yaue hem, layde it on his backe And whan he was out at the dore anone He planed away the names euerychone That he before had written in his ••ables He serued hem with ny••les and with fables ¶Nay there thou lyest Sōpner ({quod} the frere) Peace ({quod} our host) for Christes mother dere Tel forthe thy tale, and spare it not at al So thrine I {quod} the Sompner, so I shal ¶So longe he went fro hous to house til he Came to an house, ther as he was wont to be Refreshed more than in an hundred placis Sicke lay the good man, whose the place is Bedred vpon a couche lowe he lay Deus hic ({quod} he) O Thomas frend good day Sayd this frere, curtessy and softe Thomas god yelde it you, ful ofte Haue I vpon this benche faren ful wele Here haue I eaten many a mery mele And fro the benche he droue away the catte And layde adowne hys potent and his hatte And eke his scryppe, & set hym softe adowne His felowe was go walked in to the towne Forthe with his knaue, in to that hostelrye where as he shope him that ilke night to lye. ¶O dere maister, quod this syke man Howe haue ye faren sythen Marche began I sawe you not this fourtenight and more. ¶God wot ({quod} he) laboured haue I ful sore And specially for thy saluacion Haue I sayd many a preciouse orison And for our other frendes▪ god hem blesse I haue this day ben at your churche at messe And sayd a sermon, after my symple wytte Not al after the text of holy writte For it is harde to you, as I suppose And therfore I wol teche you al the glose Glosyng is a glorious thyng certayne For letter sleeth, as we clerkes sayne There haue I hem taught to ben charitable And spende her good there as it is resonable And there I sawe our dame, a where is she? ¶Yonder in the yerde, I trowe she be Sayd thys man, and she wol come anon ¶Eye mayster welcom ye be by saynt Iohn Sayd this wyfe, howe fare ye hertely? ¶This frere aryseth vp ful curtessy And her enbraseth in his armes narowe And kysseth herswetely, & cherketh as a spa∣rowe w^t his lippes, dame ({quod} he) right wele As he that is your seruaunt euery dele Thanked be god, that you yaue soule & lyfe Yet sawe I not this day so fayre a wife In al the churche, so god saue me Ye god amende al fautes syr ({quod} she) Algates welcome ye be, by my fay Graūt mercy dame, y^t haue I foūde alway But of your great goodnesse, by your leue I wol pray you, that ye not you greue I wol with Thomas speke a lytel throwe These curates ben ful neglygent & slowe To gropen tenderly a mannes conscience In schrift, & in prechyng is my diligence And to studye on Peters wordes & Poules I walke to fyshe christen mennes soules To yelde Iesu Christ his propre rent

To sprede hys wordes, is al myne entent. ¶Nowe by your leue dere mayster ({quod} she) Chydeth hym wel for saynt charite He is as angry as a pysse myre Though that he haue al that he can desyre Though I hī wry anight, & make hī warme And ouer hym lay my legge or myne arme He groneth lyke our bore y^t lyeth in the stye Other dysporte of hym ryght none haue I I may not please hym in no maner caas O Thomas, ie vo{us} die, Thomas Thomas This maketh y^e fende, this must ben amēded Ire is a thynge that god hyghly defended And therof wol I speake a worde or two. ¶Now mayster ({quod} the wyfe) er that I go what wol ye dyne? I wol go ther aboute. Now dame ({quod} he) i•• vous die sans doute Haue I not of a capon but the lyuer And of your whyte breed, but a shyuer And after that a rosted pygges heed (But I nolde not for me no beest were deed) Then had I ynowe for my suffysaunce I am a man of lytel sustinaunce My spirite hath hys fosteryng in the byble My body is aye so redy and so penyble To wake, that my body is dystroyde I pray you dame, be ye nought anoyde Though I so frendly you my coūsaile shewe By god, I nolde haue tolde it but a fewe. ¶Nowe syr ({quod} she) but one worde er ye go My chylde is deed, within these wekes two Sone after that ye wente out of thys toun Hys death sawe I by reuelacioun Sayd thys frere, at home in our dortoure I dare wel sayne, er that halfe an houre After hys death, I sawe hym borne to blysse In myne auisioun, god me so wysse So dyd our sexten, and our fermerere That han ben true freres thys fyftye yere They may now, god be thanked of hys lone Maken he•• iubely, and wa••ken alone And vp I arose, and al our couente eke wyth many a teere tryllynge on our cheke wythouten noyse or claterynge of belles Te deum was our songe, and nothinge elles Saue that to Christ I sayd an orison Thankynge hym of my reuelacion For syr and dame, trusteth me ryght wel Our orisons ben more effectuel And more we sene of Christes secret thinges Thē borel folke, although they were kynges we lyue in pouerte, and in abstinence And borel folke in rychesse and dyspence In meate & drynke, and in her foule delyte we han thys worldly luste al in dyspyte Lazar and Diues, lyueden dyuersly And dyuers guerdons had they therby who so wol pray, he muste faste & be clene And fatte hys soule, & make hys body lene we fare as sayth the apostle, cloth and foode Suffyseth vs, though they be not ful goode The clennesse & the fastynge of vs freres Maketh that Christ accepteth our prayeres. ¶Lo Moyses, fourty dayes & fourty nyght Fasted, er that the hye god of hys myght Spake wyth hym in the mounte of Synay wyth empty wombe, fastynge many a day, Receyued he the lawe, that was wrytten wyth goddes fynger, & Hely wel ye witten In mount Horeb, er he had any speche wyth the hygh god, that is our soules leche He fasted longe, and was in contemplaunce. ¶Aaron, y^t had the temple in gouernaunce And eke the other prestes euerychone Into the temple when they shulde gone To prayen for the people, and done seruyce They nolde drynke in no maner wyse No drynke, that dronke myght hem make But there in abstinence praye and wake Lest that they deden take hede what I saye But they be sobre that for the people praye ware that I saye, no more for it suffyseth Our lorde Iesu, as holy wryte deuyseth Yaue vs ensample of fastynge and prayers Therfore we mendicantes, we sely freres Ben wedded to pouerte and continence To charite, humblenesse, and abstinence To persecution for ryghtwysnesse To wepynge, mysericorde and clennesse And therfore maye ye se that our prayeres (I speke of vs mendicant, we freres) Ben to the hye god more acceptable Then yours, wyth your feest at your table. ¶Fro Paradyse fyrst, yf I shal not lye was man outchased for hys glotonye And chast was man in paradyse certayn But herken yow Thomas what I shal sayn I haue no texte therof, as I suppose But I fynde it in maner of a glose That specially our swete lorde Iesus Spake thys by freres, when he sayd thus Blessed be they that poore in spirite bene And so forth al the gospel maye ye sene whether it be lyker our perfection

Or hers that swymmen in possession Fye on her pompe, and on her glotonye And in her leudnesse, I hem defye Me thynketh they be lyke Iouinian Fatte as a whale, and walkynge as a swan As vinolent as botel in the spen••e Her prayers is of ful lytel reuerence when they for soules say y^e psalme of Dauid Lo bouffe they sayn (Cor meum eructauit) who foloweth Christes gospel & hys lo••e But we that humble be, chaste, and poore werkers of goddes worde, & not auditours Therfore ryght as an hauke at a sours Vp spryngeth into the eyre, so prayeres Of charitable and chast busy freres Maken her sours to goddes eeres two Thomas Thomas, so mote I ryde or go And by that lorde that cleped is saynt Yue Ne y^u our brother were, y^u shuldest not thryue For in our chapiter pray we daye and nyght To Christ that he the sende helth & myght Thy body for to welden hastely. ¶God wore {quod} he, nothynge therof fele I As helpe me Christ, as in fewe yeres Haue I spended vpon dyuers maner freres wel many a poūde, yet fare I neuer the bette Certayne my good haue I almost besette Fare wel my good, for it is almoste ago. The frere answered, o Thomas dost y^u so? what nedeth the dyuers freres seche? what nedeth him that hath a parfyte leche To sechen other leches in the toun? Your inconstaunce is your confusioun Holde ye me then, or els our couent To prayen for you insufficient? Thomas, that tape nys not worth a myte Your maladye is for we haue to lyte A, yeue that couent halfe a quarter otes And yeue that couent foure & twenty grotes And yeue that frere a penny, and let hym go Nay nay Thomas, it may nothynge be so what is a ferthyng worth parted in twelue? Lo, eche thynge that is oned in hym selue Is more stronge then when it is so scatered Thomas, of me thou shalt not ben yflatered Thou wolst haue al our labour for nought The hye god y^t al thys world hath wrought Sayeth, y^t the workman is worthy his hyre Thomas, nought of your treasoure I desyre As for my selfe, but that al our couent To praye for you is aye so dyligent And for to buylden Christes owne chyrche Thomas, yf ye wol lerne for to wyrche Of buyldynge vp of chyrches may ye fynde Yf it be good, in Thomas lyfe of Inde. Ye lyggen here ful of anger and of yre with which y^e deuel setteth your hert on fyre And chyden here thys holy innocent Your wyfe, that is so meke and pacient And therfore trowe me Thomas if you leste Ne chyde not wyth thy wyfe, as for the beste And beare thys worde awaye by thy fayth Touchinge such thing, lo what y^e wyse sayth wythin thy house be thou no lyon To thy subiectes do thou none oppression Ne make not thyne acquayntaunce to ••••e And yet Thomas, eftsones charge I the Beware of her that in thy bosome slepeth ware the of the serpent, that so slyly crepeth Vnder the grasse, and styngeth ful subtelly Beware my sonne, and herken paciently That twēty thousāde mē han lost her lyues For stryuinge with her lēmans & her wyues Nowe sens ye haue so holy and meke a wyfe what nebeth you Thomas to make stryfe? There nys ywysse no serpent so cruel (when mē treden on his tayle) ne halfe so fell As a womā is, whē she hath caught an yre Vengeaunce is then al her desyre. ¶Ire is a synne, one of the greatest of seuen Abhominable vnto the hygh god of heuen And to hym selfe it is a dystruction Thys euery leude vycare and p••rson Can saye, how yre engendreth homecyde Ire is in soth the executour of pryde I coulde of yre say so muche sorowe That my tale shulde last tyl to morowe And therfore I pray god both daye & nyght That to an yrous man he sende lytell myght It is great harme, and eke great pyte To set an yrous man in hye degre

Whylom there was an yrous potestate As sayeth Seneke, that durynge hys estate Vpon a daye out rydden knyghtes two And as fortune wolde it shulde be so That one of hem cam home, y^t other nought Anone the knyght before y^e iudge is brought That said thus: thou hast thy felowe slayne For whych I deme the to the death certayne And to another knyght cōmaunded he Go lede hym to the death I charge the And it hapned as they went by the wey Towarde the place where he shulde dey

The kniʒt came, which mē wēde had be dede Then thought they it was the best rede To lede them both to the iudge agayne They saydē lorde, the knight hath not slayne Hys felowe, here he stante hole alyue. Ye shullen be deed ({quod} he) so mote I thryue That is to saye, both one, two, and thre, And to the fyrst knyght, ryght thus spake he. I dampned the, thou must algate be deed And thou muste also lese nedes thyne heed For thou arte cause why thy felowe deyth And to y^e thyrde knyght, ryght thus he seyth Thou hast not done that I cōmaunded the And thus he dyd hem slayne al thre.

Irouse C••••hyses was eke dronkelewe And aye dely•• hym to ben a shrewe And so byfel a lorde of hys meyne That loued wel vertuous moralite Said on a day betwyxt hem two right thus A lorde is lost, yf he be aught vicious And dronkennesse eke is a foule recorde Of any man, and namely of a lorde There is many an eye and many an eere Awaytynge on a lorde, he notte where For goddes loue drynketh more temporatly wyne maketh a man to lese wretchedly Hys mynde and hys lymmes euerychone. ¶The reuers shalte thou se ({quod} he) anone And preue it by thyne owne experience That wyne ne doth to folke no such offence There nys no wyne byreueth me my myght Of honde, of foote, ne of myne eye syght And for dispyte he dronke mochel more An hundred tymes then he dyd before And ryght anone, thys cursed yrouse wretch Let thys knyghtes sonne byforne him fetch Cōmaūding him he shulde byforne him stōde And sodaynly he toke hys bowe in honde And vp the strynge he pulled to hys eere And wyth an arowe he slough y^e childe there Now whether haue I a seker hōde or none {quod} he is al my myght and mynde agone? Hath wyne byreued me myne eyen syght? ¶what shulde I tel the answere of y^e knyght Hys sōne was slayne, there is no more to say Beware therfore, wyth lordes howe ye play Synge Placebo, and I shal yf I can But yf it be vnto a poore man To a poore man, one shulde hys vyces tel But not to a lorde, though he shuld go to hel. Lo yrous Cirus, thylke Per••ien Howe destroyed he the ryuer of Gysen? For that an horse of hys was dreynt therin when he went Babylon to wynne He made that the ryuer was so smal That men myght ryde and waden ouer al. ¶Lo, what sayd he, that so wel teche can Ne be no felowe to none yrous man Ne wyth no wode man walke by the way Leste thou repente, I wol no farther say. ¶Now thomas leue brother, leaue thyn yre Thou shalt me fynde as iuste, as is a squyre Hold not the dyuels knyfe aye in thyne herte Thyne angre doth the al to sore smerte But shewe to me al thy confession. ¶Nay ({quod} the sycke man) by saynt Symon I haue be shryue thys day of my curate I haue tolde hym al myne estate It nedeth nomore to speke of it, sayeth he But yf me lyst, of myne humilite. yeue me thē of thy gold, to make our cloistre {quod} he, for many a muskle & many an oystre when other men haue ben ful wel at ese Hath ben our foode, our cloystre for to rese And yet god wote, vnneth the foundament Parfourmed is, ne of our pauement Is not a tyle yet wythin our wones By god we owe fourty pounde for stones Now helpe thomas, for him y^e harowed hell For els mote we our bokes sell And yf you lacke our predication Then goeth thys worlde al to dystruction For who so wol fro thys worlde vs byreue So god me saue, Thomas by your leue He wolde byreue out of this world the sonne For who can techen & worchen, as we conne And that is not of lytel tyme ({quod} he) But syth Helye was, or Helyse Han freres ben, that fynde I of recorde In charite, ythanked be our lorde Now Thomas, for saynt charite And downe anone he sytteth on hys kne ¶Thys sycke mā woxe nye woode for yre He wolde the frere had ben a fyre wyth hys false dyssimulation Suche thynges as ben in my possessyon ({quod} he) that may I yeue, and none other Ye sayn me thus, howe y^t I am your brother Ye certes ({quod} thys frere) trusteth me wele I toke our dame our lettre and our sele. ¶Nowe ({quod} he) wel, & somwhat shal I yeue Vnto your holy couent whyle I lyue

And in thyne honde, thou shal it haue anone On thys condicion, and other none That thou departe it so, my leue brother That euery frere, haue as moche as other Thys shalt thou swere on thy profession wythout fraude or cauelacion. ¶I swere it ({quod} the trere) by my faythe And therwithal hys hande in hys he laythe Lo here my faythe, in me shalbe no lacke. ¶Then put thyne hāde downe by my backe Sayd thys man, and grope well behynde Byneth my buttocke, there thou shalt fynde A thynge, that I haue hydde in priuyte Ah, thought the frere, that shal go with me Adowne he shofth hys honde to the clyste In hope to fynde there some good gyfte And when thys sycke man felte thys frere Aboute hys towel, gropynge here and there Amyd hys honde, he let the frere & farte There nys no capel, drawynge in a carte That myght haue let a farte of such a soun. ¶The frere vp starte, as doth a wode lyon A false churle ({quod} the frere) for goddes bones Thys hast thou in dyspyte do, for the nones Thou shalte abye thys farte, yf I may Hys meyny, that herde of thys afraye Came leapyng in, and chased out the frere And forth he goeth, wyth a ful angry chere And fette hys felowe, there as laye his store He loked as he were a wylde bore He grynted hys teth, so was he wrothe A sturdy pace, downe to the court he gothe where as there wōned a mā of great honour To whom that he was alway confessour This worthy man was lorde of that vylage Thys frere came, as he were in a rage where as thys lorde sate catyng at his borde Vnnethes myght the frere speke o worde Tyl at the laste he sayd, god you se. ¶Thys lorde gan loke, and sayd benedicite what frere Ihō, what maner a world is this I se wel that somthynge is amys Ye loke as though y^e wod were ful of theues Syt downe, and tel me what your grefe is And it shalbe amended, yf that I may. ¶I haue ({quod} he) had a dyspyte to day God yelde it you, adowne in your village That in this world, is none so poore a page That he nolde haue abhominacioun Of that I haue receaued in your toun And yet me greueth nothynge so sore As that the olde churle, wyth lockes hore Blasphemed hath our holy couent eke. ¶Now mayster ({quod} thys lorde) I you beseke No mayster syr ({quod} he) but seruitour Though I hauē had in schole that honour God lyketh not, that men vs Raby calle Neyther in market, ne in your large halle No force ({quod} he) but tel me of your grefe ¶Syr ({quod} thys frere) an odious myschefe Thys day is betyde, to myne ordre, & to me And so per consequens to eche degre Of holy churche, god amende it sone. Syr ({quod} the lorde) ye wote what is to done Dystempre you not, ye ben my confessour Ye ben the salte of the earth, and the sauour For goddes loue your pacience nowe holde Telleth me your grefe: & he anone him tolde As ye han herde before, ye wote well what The lady of the house, aye styll satte Tyl she had herde what the frere sayde Eye goddes mother ({quod} she) & blysful mayde Is there nought els, tel me faythfully Madame ({quod} he) howe thynketh ye therby Howe that me thynketh: so god me spede I saye a churle hath done a churles dede what shulde I saye, god let hym neuer the Hys sycke heed is ful of vanite I ho••de hym in a maner of frenesye. Madame ({quod} he) by god I shal not lye But I in any wyse may ben on hym awreke I shal slaunder him ouer al, where I speke That false blasphemour, that charged me To parte it, that myght not departed be To euery man ylyche, wyth myschaunce The lorde sate styl, as he were in a traū•••• And in hys herte he rolled vp and doun Howe that thys churle had ymaginacioun To shewe suche a probleme to the frere Neuer erst or now ne herde I such a matere I trowe the dyuel put it in hys mynde In al Arsmetryke, there shal no man fynde Byforne thys daye, of suche a question who shulde make a demonstracion? That euery man shulde ilyke haue his parte Of a sowne or sauoure of a farte O nyce proude churle, I shrewe thy face Lo syrs ({quod} the lorde) with harde grace Who euer hearde of such a thynge or nowe? To euery man ylyke tell me howe? It is an impossyble, it may not be E••y nyce churle, gyd let hym neuer the The rumblyge of a farte, and euery sonne Nys but of eyre reuerberacyoune

And euer it wasteth lytle and lytle away There is no man can demen, by my fay Yf that it were departed equally what? lo my churle: lo, yet how shreudly Vnto my confessour to day he spake I holde hym certayne a demoniake. Now eteth your meat, & let y^e churle go play Let hym go hongen hym selfe a deuel way. Now stode the lordes squyer at the borde That carfe his meate, & herd word by worde Of al thynge of whych I haue you sayde My lorde ({quod} he) be not euel apayde I couth tel for a gowne cloth To you syr frere, so that ye ben not wroth Howe that thys farte shulde euen ydeled be Amonges your couent, yf it lyketh the. Tel on ({quod} y^e lorde) & thou shalt haue anon A gowne clothe, by god and by saynt Ihon My lorde ({quod} he) when y^t the weder is fayre wythouten wynde, or perturbynge of ayre Let brynge a carte whele here into thys hall But loke he haue hys spokes all Twelue spokes hath a carte whele cōmenly And brynge me thē .xij. freres, wote ye why? For thyrtene is a couent as I gesse your confessour here, for hys worthynesse Shal perfourme vp the nombre of his couēt Thē shullē they knelen adowne by one assēt And to euery spokes ende, in thys manere Ful sadly lay hys nose shal a frere Your noble confessour there, god him saue Shal holde hys nose vpryght vnder y^e naue Then shal this churle, w^t bely styffe & tought As any tabour, hyther ben ybrought And set him on the whele, right of this carte Vpon the naue, & make hym let a farte And ye shullen se, vp peryl of my lyfe By prefe, whych is demonstratyfe That equally the sowne of it wyl wende And eke the stynke, vnto the spokes ende Saue y^t thys worthy man your confessour (Bycause he is a man of great honour) Shal haue the fyrst frutes, as reson is The noble vsage of freres yet is thys. The worthest mā of hem shul fyrst be serued And certaynly, he hath it wel deserued He hath to day taught vs so moch good wyth prechynge in the pulpet there he stood That I may vouchsafe, I saye for me He had the fyrst smel of fartes thre And so wolde al hys brethren hardely He beareth hym so fayre and holyly. ¶The lord, y^e lady, & eche man, saue y^e frere Sayd that Iankyn spake in thys matere As wel as Ouyde dyd or Ptholome Touchynge the churles sayd subtylte And hye wytte made hym speke as he spake He nys no foole, ne no demoniake And Iankyn hath ywonne a newe gowne My tale is done, we ben almoste at towne.

¶Here endeth the Sompners tale, and here foloweth the clerke of Oxenfordes prologue.

SIr clerke of Oxforde, our hoost sayde Ye ryde as stil and coye, as doth a mayde were newe spoused, syttynge at the borde This day ne herd I of your mouth a worde I trowe that ye studye about some sophyme But Salomon sayeth, al thynge hath tyme For goddes sake, bethe of better chere It is no tyme now to studye here Tel vs some mery tale by your faye For what man is entred into a playe He nedes mote vnto that playe assent But precheth not, as freres done in lent To make vs for our olde synnes to wepe Ne that thy tale make vs not to slepe Tel vs some mery thynge of auentures Your termes, your fygures, & your coloures Kepe hem in store, tyl so be that ye endyte Hyghe style, as when men to kynges wryte Speketh so playne at thys tyme, I you pray That we may vnderstande what ye say. ¶Thys worthy clerke benyngly answerde Hoste ({quod} he) I am vnder your yerde Ye haue of vs as nowe the gouernaunce And therfore wol I do you obeysaunce As farre as reason asketh hardely I wol you tel a tale, whych that I Lerned at Padowe, of a worthy clerke As preued is by hys wordes and hys werke He is now deed, and nayled in hys cheste I praye to God sende hys soule good reste. Fraunces Petrarke, the laureat poete Hyght thys clerke, whose rhetoryke swete Enlumined al I tayle of poetrye As Lyuian dyd of Philosophye

Or lawe, or other arte perticulere But death y^e wol not suffre vs dwellen here But as it were the twynklynge of an eye Hem bothe hath slayne, and al we shal dye. ¶But for to tellen of this worthy man That taught me this tale, as I fyrst began I say that he fyrst with hye style endyteth (Or he the body of hys tale writeth) A proheme, in whiche discriueth he Piemount, and of Saluce the countre And speketh of Apenniny the hylles hye That ben the boundes of west Lumbardye And of mount Vesulus in special where as the Poo, out of a wel smal Taketh hys fyrst spring and hys sours That estwarde euer increseth in his cours To Emelle warde, to Ferare, and to Venyse The whiche a longe tyme were to deuyse And truly, as to my iugement Me thynketh it a thyng inpartinent Saue that hym lyste conuey hys matere But this is his tale as ye shullen here.

¶Here endeth the prologue of the clerke of Oxenforde, and here foloweth hys tale.

[illustration]

THere is, in the west syde of Itayle Down at the rote of Vesu∣lus the colde A lusty playne, habundaunt of vitayle wher many a town & tour thou maist behold That founded were, in tyme of fathers olde And many a nother delectable syght And Saluces, this noble countre hight

A Markes whylom was in that londe As were his worthy elders hym byfore And obeysaunt aye redy to hys honde were al hys lieges, bothe lesse and more Thus in delyte he lyued, and hath done yore Beloued & drad, through fauour of fortune Bothe of his lordes and of hys commune

Therwith he was, as to speke of lynage The gentylest yborne of al Lomberdy A fayre person, & stronge, and yong of age And ful of honour and curtesye Discrete ynowe, his countre for to gye Saue in some thynges he was to blame And walter was this yonge lordes name

I blame him thus, that he consydred nou•••• In tyme cōmyng, what hym might betyde But on his lust present was al his thought And for to hauke and hunt on euerysyde welny al other cures lette he slyde And eke he ne wolde, that was worst of al wedde no wife, for ought that myght befal

Onely that poynt hys people bare so sore That flockmele on a day to hym they went And one of hem, that wisest was of lore (Or els that the lorde wolde best assent That he shulde tel him what his people mēt Or els coude he shewe suche matere) He to the Markes sayd, as ye shullen here.

¶O noble Marques, your humanyte Assureth vs, and yeueth vs hardynesse As ofte tyme as is necessyte That we may to you tel our heuynesse Accepteth lorde of your gentylnesse That we to you with pitous hert playne And lette your eares nat my voice disdayne

Al haue I nat to done in this matere More than another hath in this place Yet for as moche, as ye my lorde so dere Haue alway shewed me fauour and grace I dare the better aske of you a space Of audience, to shewen our requeste And ye my lorde to done right as you leste

For certes lorde: so wel vs lyketh you And al your werkes, & euer haue don, y^e we Ne coulde our owne selfe deuysen howe we myght more lyuen in felycite Saue one thyng lorde, yf it your wyl be That for to be a wedded man, you lest Thā were your people in souerayn hertes

Boweth your necke vnder the blisful yoke Of soueraynte, and not of seruyse whiche men clepen spousayle or wedloke And thīketh lord, amōg your thoughtes wise Howe that our dayes passen in sundrie wyse For though we slepe or wake, ronne, or ryde ••ye ••leeth the tyme, it wol no man abyde

And though your grene youthe floure, as yet In crepeth age alway as styl as stone And dethe manaseth euery age, and smyte In eche estate, for there escapeth none And also certayn, as we knowen echone That we shul dye, & vncertayne we al Ben of that day, that dethe shal on vs fal

Accepteth than of vs the trewe entent That neuer yet refused your heste And we wol al lorde, yf ye wol assent Chefe you a wyfe in shorte tyme, at the lest Borne of the gentillest and of the meste Of al this londe, so that it aught seme Honour to god & you, as nere as we cā deme

Delyuer vs out of al this busy drede And take a wyfe, for hye goddes sake For yf it so befel, as god forbede That thorowe dethe, your linage shuld slake And that a straunge successour shulde take Your heritage, O, wo were vs on lyue wherfore we pray you hastely to wyue.

¶Her meke prayere and her pytouse chere Made the Maikes for to haue pyte wol ye ({quod} he) myne owne people dere To that I neuer erst thought, constrayne me I me reioyced of my lyberte That selden tyme is founde in mariage There I was free, I mote ben in seruage

But natheles, I se your true entente And trust vpon your wytte, & haue done aye wherfore of my fre wyl I wol assente To wedden me, as sone as euer I may But there, as ye haue profred me to day To chese me a wyfe, I you relese That choyce, and pray you of that profer cese

For god it wote, that children ofte been Vnlyke her worthy elders, hem before Bounte cometh al of god, & nat of the streen Of whiche they ben engendred and ibore I trust in goddes bounte, and therfore My mariage, myne estate, and rest I hym be take, he may don as hym lest

Lette me alone in chesynge of my wyfe That charge vpon my backe I wol endure But I you pray, and charge vpon your lyfe That what wyfe I take, ye me ensure To worship her, whiles her lyfe may dure In worde and werke, here, and els where As she an Emperours doughter were

And furthermore, thus shal ye swere, y^t ye Ayenst my choyce shal neuer grutch ne stryue For sythe I shal for go my lyberte At your request, as euer mote I thryue There as myn hert is set, there wol I wyue And but ye wol assent, in suche manere I pray you speketh no more in this matere

With herty wyl they sworen and assent To al this thyng, there sayd no wight nay Besechyng hym of grace er they went That he wolde hem graunt a certayn day Of his spousaile, as soone as euer he may For yet alway the people somwhat dredde Lest this Markes wolde no wyfe wedde

He graunted hem a day, suche as him lest On whiche he wolde be wedded sekerly And sayd he dyd al this at her request And they with humble entent ful buxomly Knelyng vpon her knees ful reuerently Hym thonked al, and thus they han an ende Of her entent, and home ayen they wende

And here vpon he toke his offycers Commaundyng for the feest to puruay And to his priuy knyghtes and squyers Suche charge yaue, as he lyst on hem lay And they to his cōmaundement obey And eche of hem dothe hys dilygence To done to the feest reuerence.

¶Explicit pars prima: et incipit pars secunda.

NOught ferre fro thylke place ho∣norable where as this Markes shope hys mariage There stode a thrope, of syght ful delectable In whiche poore folke of that village Hadden her beestes and her••ygage And of her labour toke her sustenaunce After that the erthe yaue hem habundaunce

Amōge this poore folke, ther dwelled a mā which that was holden poorest of hem all But hye god somtyme sende can His grace vnto a lytel oxe stall Ianycola, men of that thrope hym cal A doughter had he, fayre ynough•• to syght And Grisylde this yonge mayden hyght

But for to speke of vertuous beaute Than was she one the fayrest vnder sonne And ful poorely yfostred was she No lykerouse lust was in her herte ironne wel ofter of the wel than of the tonne She dronke, and for she wolde vertue plese She knewe wel laboure, but not ydel ese

But though this mayde were tender of age Yet in the brest of her virginite There was enclosed, sadde and rype corage And in great reuerence and charyte Her olde poore father fostred she A fewe shepe spynnyng on the felde she kept She wolde not ben idel tyl she slept

And whā she homward came, she wold bring wortes and herbes, tymes ful ofte which she shradde & sethe for her lyuyng And made her bedde ful hard, & nothing softe And aye she kepte her fathers lyfe on lofte with euery obeysaunce and dilygence That childe might do to the fathers reuerēce

¶Vpon Grisylde the poore creature wel ofte hath the Markes sette his eye As he an huntyng rode parauenture And whan it fel, that he myght her aspye He (not with wanton lokyng of solye) His eyen caste vpon her, but in sadde wyse Vpon her chere, he wolde him ofte auyse

Commending in his herte her womāhode And eke her vertue, passyng euery wyght Of so yonge age, as wel in chere as in dede For though the people haue no great insyght In vertue ••he consydred ful ryght Her bounte, and disposed that he wolde Her wedde, yf he euer wedde shulde.

The day of weddyng com, but no wight cā Tel, what woman it shulde be For whiche maruaile, wondred many a man And sayden, whan they were in her priuete wol not our lorde yet leaue his vanyte wol he not wedde, alas alas the whyle why wol he thus him selfe and vs begyle

But nathelesse this Markes hath do make Of gemmes, set in golde and in asure Broches and rynges, for Grisyldes sake And of her clothyng, toke he the mesure Of a mayden lyke to her statute And eke of other ornamentes al That to suche a weddyng shulde fal

The tyme of vndren, in the same day Approched, that the weddyng shulde be

And al the paleys put was in array Bothe halle and chambre, eche in his degre Houses of offyces stuffed with great plente There mayste thou se of daynteous vitayle That may be founde, as fer as lasteth Itayle

This royal Markes, rychely arayde Lordes and ladyes in his companye The which that to the feest were prayde And of his retinue the bachelery with many a sowne of sondrie melodye Vnto the village, of which I tolde In this aray, the right way hath holde.

¶Grisylde (god wotte of this ful innocent That for her was shape al this array) To fetche water at a wel went And cometh home as sone as euer she may For wel she herde say, that ylke day That y^e Markes shuld wedde, & if she might She wolde fayne seen some of that syght

She thought: I wold w^t other maydens stōde That ben my felowes in our d••re and se The Markes, and therto wol I fonde To done at home, as sone as it may be The labour, which that longeth to me And than may I at leyser it beholde If she the way to the castel holde

And as she wolde ouer the thresholde gon The Markes came, and gan her for to call And she sette downe her water potte anon Besyde the thresholde of the ore stal And downe vpon her knees she gan to fal And with sadde countenaunce kneled styl Tyl she had herde what was the lordes wyl

This thoughtful Markes spake to y^e mayd wel soberly, and sayd in this manere where is your father Grisylde, he sayd? And she with reuerence and meke chere Answerde, lorde he is al redy here And in she gothe, without lenger lette And to the Markes she her father fette

He by the honde than toke this olde man And sayd thus, whan he had hym asyde Ianycola, I neyther may ne can Lenger the pleasaunce of myne herte hyde If that thou vouchsafe, what so euer betyde Thy doughter wol I take, or that I wende As for my wyfe, to my lyues ende

Thou louest me, I wotte wel certayne And arte my faythful liege man ybore And al that lyketh me, I dare wel sayne It lyketh the, and specially therfore Tel me that poynte, that I haue said before If that thou wolt to this purpose drawe? To take me for thy sonne in lawe

¶This sodayne case, the man astoned so That reed he wext abashed, & al quakyng He stode, ne vnneth sayd he wordes mo But onely thus ({quod} he) lorde my wyllyng Is as ye wol, ne ayenst your lykyng I wol nothyng, ye be my lorde so dere Right as you lyste, gouerne this matere

Than wol I thus ({quod} this Markes) sothly That in thy chambre, I, you, and she Haue a collation, and wost thou why? For I wol aske her, yf her wyl be To be my wyfe, and rule her after me And al this shal she done in thy presence I wol not speke out of thyn audyence

And in the chambre, while they were about The treties, whiche ye shal after here The people came into the house without And wondred hem, in how honest manere So tentifly she kept her father dere But vtterly Grisylde wonder myght For neuer erste sawe she suche a syght

No wonder is though she be astoned To se so great a gest come into that place She was neuer to suche gestes woned For which she loked with ful pale face But shortly fro this mater for to pace These weren the wordes y^t the Markes sayd To this benygne and very faythful mayde

¶Grisylde he said, ye shal wel vnderstonde It lyketh vnto your father and me That I you wedde, and eke it may so stonde As I suppose, that ye wol that it so be But these demaundes I aske fyrst ({quod} he) That sythen it shal be done in hasty wyse wol ye therto assent, or els you auyse

I say thus, be ye redy with good herte To al my luste, and that I frely may

As me best liketh, though ye laugh or smerte And neuer ye to grutche, nyght ne day whan I say ye, that ye say not ones nay Neyther in word, ne by frowning coūtenāce Swere this, & here I swere our aliaunce

¶Wōdryng vpō these wordes, quakyng for drede She said: lorde, indigne & vnworthy Am I, to thylke honour that ye me bede But right as ye wol, so wol I And here I swere, that neuer wyllyngly In word, werke, ne thouʒt, I nil you disobey For to be deed, though me were loth to dey.

¶This is ynough Grisylde myne ({quod} he) And forthe he gothe with a sobre chere Out at the dore, and after came she And to the people, he said in this manere This is my wyfe ({quod} he) that stondeth here Honoureth her, & loueth her, I you pray who so me loueth, there nys no more to say

And for that no thyng of her olde gere She shulde bring in to his house, he badde That women shulde dispoyle her right there Of which these ladyes were nothing gladde To hādle her clothes, in which she was clad But nathelesse, thys mayden bright of hewe Fro foote to heed they clothed han al newe

Her heer han they kembed, y^t laye vntressed Ful rudely, and with her fyngres smale A crowne on her heed they han idressed And set it ful of ouches great and smale Of her array, what shulde I make a tale Vnneth the people her knew for her fairnesse whan she transfourmed was in such richesse

¶This Markes hath her spoused w^t a ringe Bought for the same cause, & than her set Vpon an horse snowe white, wel amblynge And to his paleys, or he lenger let with ioyful people, that her ladde and met Conueyed her, & thus the day they spende In reuel, tyl the sonne gan discende

And shortly forthe this tale for to chace I saye, that to this newe Markessesse God hath ysent suche fauour of hys grace That it semed not, as by her lykelynesse That she was borne and fedde in rudenesse As in a cote, or in an oxe stal But norished in an emperoures hal

To euery wight, she woxen is so dere And worship ful, y^e folke ther as she was bore And fro her byrthe, knewe her yere by yere Vnneth trowed they, but durst haue swore That to Ianycola, of whiche I spake before She doughter nas, for as by coniecture Hem thought she was a nother creature

For though that euer vertuous was she She was encreased in suche excellence Of thewes good, set in hye bounte And so discrete, and fayre of eloquence So benygne, and digne of reuerence And coulde the peoples hertes so enbrace That eche her loued that loked in her face

Not onely of Saluce in the town Publyshed was the bountie of her name But eke besyde, in many a regioun If one sayd wel, an other sayd the same So spradde of her bountie the same That men & women, bothe yonge and olde Gone to Saluces her to beholde.

¶This walter lowly, and ful royally Wedded hath wyth fortunate honeste In goddes peace: lyueth ful easely At whom, & outwarde grace ynough had he And for he sawe that vnder lowe degre was honest vertue hyd, the people him helde A prudent man, and that is sene wel selde.

¶Not only this Grisylde, through her wyt Couthe al the feate of wyfely humblesse But eke, whan the case required it The comen profyte coulde she redresse There nas discorde, rancour, ne heuynesse In al the londe, that she ne couthe apese And bring hem al wysely in rest and ese

Though her husbond absent were or none If gentylmen, or other of her countre were wrothe, she wolde bring hem at one So wyse and rype wordes had she And iugement of so great equite That she fro heuen sent was, as men wende People to saue, & euery wronge to amende.

¶Not longe tyme after this Grisylde Was wedded, she a doughter had ybore

Al had she leuer haue borne a man chylde Glad was y^e Markes and his folke therfore For though a mayde chylde came al before She may to a man chylde attayne By lykelyhode, sythens she is not barayne.

¶Explicit pars secunda: et incipit pars tertia.

THere fel, as it befalleth oft ty∣mes mo Whā that this childe had suc∣ked but a throwe This Markes in his herte lō∣ged so To tempte hys wyfe, her sadnesse to knowe That he ne myght out of hys herte throwe This marueylous desyre, hys wyfe to assaye Nedelesse god wot, he thought her to affray

He had assayed her ynoughe before And fonde her euer good, what nedeth it Her for to tempte & alway more and more Though some man praise it for a subtyl wyt But as for me, I say ful yuel it syt To assay a wyfe, whan that it is no nede And put her in anguyshe and in drede

For which this Markes wrouʒt in this ma¦nere He came alone a nyght there as she lay with sterne face, and right vgly chere And sayd thus: Grisylde ({quod} he) that day That I the toke out of thy poore aray And put the in estate of hye noblesse Thou hast not that forgoten, as I gesse

I say Grisylde, the present dignyte In whiche I haue put the, as I trowe Maketh not the foryetful for to be That I the toke in poore astate ful lowe For any wele, thou must thy selfe knowe Take hede of euery worde what I sey There is no wight that hereth but we twey

Thou wottest thy self, how y^t thou came here In to this house, it is not longe ago And though to me thou be both lefe and dere Vnto my gentyls thou art nothyng so They say, to hem it is great shame and wo For to ben subiette and ben in seruage To the, that borne arte in so smal a village

And namely syth thy doughter was ybore These wordes haue they spoken doutles But I desyre, as I haue done byfore To lyue my lyfe with hem, in rest and pees I may not in this case be recheles I mote done with thy doughter, for the best Not as I wolde, but as my gentyls lest

And yet god wote, this is ful lothe to me But nathelesse without thy wetyng I wol naught do, but thus I wol ({quod} he) That thou to me assent, as in thys thyng Shewe nowe thy pacience, in thy werkyng That thou me hight & swore in our village That day that maked was our mariage

¶whā she had herde al this, she not ameued Neyther in word, in chere, ne in coūtenaunce For as it semed, she was not agreued She sayd lorde, al lyeth in your plesaunce My childe and I, with hertely obeysaunce Ben yours al, and ye may saue or spyl with your owne, worketh your owne wyll

There may nothyng, so god my soule saue Lykyng to you, that may displese me Ne I desyre nothyng for to haue Ne drede for to lese, saue onely ye This wil is in my herte, and aye shal be No length of tyme, or deth it may deface Neyther chāge my corage into another place

¶Glad was the Markes of her answering But yet he fayned as he were not so Al drery was his chere, and his lokyng whan that he shulde out of the chambre go Sone after thys, a forlonge way or two He priuely had tolde al his entent Vnto a man, and to his wyfe him sent

In maner of a sergeāt was this priuy mā The which he faithful ofte founde had In thynges great, & eke suche folke wel can Done execucyon of thynges badde The lorde knewe wel, he him loued & dradde And whan this sergeant wyst his lordes wil In to the chambre he stalked hym ful styl

¶Madame he sayd, ye mote foryeue it me

Though I do thing, which I am cōstrayned Ye be ful wyse, and ful wel knowe ye That lordes hestes may not be fayned They may wel bewayled and complayned But men muste nedes vnto her luste obey And so wol I, there nis no more to sey

This childe I am cōmaunded to take And spake no more, but vp the chylde he hent Dispitously, and gan a chere to make As though he wolde haue slayne it or he wēt Grisylde must al suffre, and consent And as a lambe, she sytteth meke and styl And let this cruel sergeaunt do his wyl

¶Suspecte was the fame of this man Suspecte his face, suspecte hys worde also Suspecte the tyme in whiche he this began Alas her doughter, that she loued so She wende he wold haue slayne it right tho But nathelesse, she neyther wepte ne syked Confyrmyng her to that the Markes lyked

But at the laste to speke she began And mekely she the sergeaunt prayde (So as he was a worthy gentilman) That she might kysse her chylde er y^t it deyde And in her barme, this lytel chylde she leyde with ful sadde face, and gan the chylde blysse And lulled it, and after gan it kysse

And thus she sayd in her benygne voyce Farwel my chylde, I shal the neuer se But sythen I haue marked y^u with the croyce Of thylke father yblessed mote thou be That for vs dyed vpon the rode tree Thy soule lytel chylde, I him betake For this nyght shalte thou dyen for my sake

¶I trowe that to a norice in thys caas It had ben harde, this routhe for to se Wel might a mother than crye alas But nathelesse, so sadde and stedfast was she That she endured al her aduersyte And to the sergeaunt mekely she sayde Haue here ayen your lytel yonge mayde

And goth now ({quod} she) & doth my lordes hest And o thing wolde I pray you of your grace But yf my lorde forbyd it you at the leste Buryeth this lytel body in some place That no beestes ne byrdes it do race But he no worde to that purpose wolde say But toke the childe, and went anon his way.

This sergeaunt came to the lorde agayne And of Grisyldes wordes, and of her chere He tolde him worde by word, short & playne And him presented with his doughter dere Somwhat this lord had routh ī his manere But nathelesse, his purpose helde he styl As lordes done, whā they wol haue her wyl

And badde the sergeaunt that ful priuely He shuld this child wel soft wynd & wrappe with al the circumstaunce tenderly And cary it in a cofre, or in a lappe But on payne of hys heed of to swappe That no man shulde knowe of his entent Ne whence he came, ne whyther he went

But at Boleyne▪ to his suster dere That thilke tyme of Pauye was countesse He shulde it take, and shewe her this matere Besechyng her to done her busynesse This childe to fostre in al gentylnesse And whose chylde y^t it was, he bade her hyde From euery wight, for ought y^e might betyde

This sergeaunt gothe, and hathe fulfylled thys thyng But to thys Markes nowe retourne we For nowe gothe he ful ofte ymaginyng If by his wyues chere, he myght se Or by her wordes, perceyue that she were chaunged, but he neuer coulde fynde But euer in one ilyke sadde and kynde

As glad, as humble, as busy in seruyse And eke in loue, as she was wont to be was she to hym, in euery maner wyse Ne of her doughter one worde spake she None accident, for none aduersyte Was sene in her, ne neuer her doghters name Nempned she, for ernest ne for game.

¶Explicit tertia pars: et inci∣pit pars quarta.

IN thys estate, passed ben foure yere Er she wyth chylde was, but as god wolde A man chylde she bare by this waltere

wel gracious, and fayre to beholde And when folke it to the father tolde Not onely he, but al the countre merye was for the chyld, & god they thonke & herye

when it was two yere olde, & from the brest Departed from hys noryce on a daye Thys Markes caught yet another lest To tempten hys wyfe efte sones, yf he maye Onedelesse was she tēpted, I dare wel saye But wedded men ne conne no mesure when they fynde a pacient creature

wyfe ({quod} this Markes) ye haue herd or this My people heuely bareth our mariage And namely sythen my sonne borne is Now is it worse then euer in our age The murmure sleeth my herte & my corage For to myne eeres cometh y^e voyce so smerte That it wel nye destroyed hath my herte.

Now say they thus, whē walter is agone Then shal the bloode of Iamcula succede And ben our lorde, for other haue we none Suche wordes say my people, it is no drede wel ought I of suche murmure take hede For certaynly I drede suche sentence Though they not playnly speke ī my audiēce

I wolde lyue in peace, yf that I myght wherfore I am dysposed vtterly As I hys syster serued by nyght Ryght so I thynke to serue hym priuely Thus warne I you, that ye not sodeynly Out of your selfe, for no wo shulde outraye Beth pacient, and therof I you praye.

I haue ({quod} she) sayd, and euer shal I wol ••yl nothynge certayne But as you lyst: Nought greueth me at al Though y^t my doughter & my sōne be slayne At your cōmaundement: thys is to sayne I haue had no parte of chyldren twayne But fyrst sycknesse, & after wo and payne.

Ye ben our lord, doth w^t your owne thyng Ryght as you lyste, and taketh no rede of me For as I lefte at home my clothyng when I came fyrst to you, ryght so ({quod} she) Lefte I my wyll, and al my lyberte And toke your clothing: wherfor I you pray Do your wyl, I wol to it obey

And certes, yf I had prescience Your wyl to knowe, er ye your lust me tolde I wolde it done, wythout negligence But now I wote your lust, & what ye wolde Al your plesaunce, fyrme & stable I holde For wyste I y^t my death wolde done you ese Gladly wolde I suffre it you to please.

Death may make no comparisoun Vnto your loue: And whē thys Markes say The constaūce of hys wyfe, he cast adoun Hys eyen two: and wondred how she may In suche pacience, suffreth al thys array And forth he goeth, wyth drery countenaūce But to hys herte, it was ful great pleasaūce.

Thys eygre sergeant, in the same wyse That he her doughter caught, ryght so he Or worse, yf he coulde werse deuyse Hath hente her sonne, y^t was ful of beaute And euer in one so pacient was she That she no chere made of heuynesse But kysseth her chylde, & after gan him blesse

Saue thys she prayd him, yf that he might Her lytel sonne he wolde in erth graue Hys tendre lymmes, delycate to syght Fro foules and fro beastes to saue But she none answere of hym myght haue He went hys waye as he nothynge rought But to Boleyne he tenderly it brought.

This Markes wōdred euer lēger y^e more Vpon her pacience, and yf that he Ne had sothely knowen there before That parfytly her chyldren loued she He wolde haue wende, y^t for some subtelte And of malyce, or cruel corage That she had suffred thys w^t sadde vysage.

But he knewe wel, y^t next hym selfe certayne She loued her chyldren best, in euery wyse But now of women wolde I aske fayne Yf these assayes mayght not suffyse what coulde a sturdy husbonde more deuyse To preue her wyfehode, & her stedfastnesse But be contynuynge euer in sturdynesse

But there be folke of suche condicion That whē they han a certayne purpose take They couth not stynte of her entencion But as they were bounden to a stake

They wol not of that purpose slake Ryght so thys Markes, hath fully purposed To tēpte hys wyfe, as he was fyrst dysposed

He wayteth, yf by wordes or coūtenaunce She were to hym chaunged of corage But neuer coulde he fynde variaunce She was aye in one herte and vysage And euer the further that she was in age The more truer (yf it were possible) She was to hym in loue, and more penyble.

For whych it semeth thus, that of hem two There nas but one wyl: for as walter lest The same lust was her pleasaunce also And god be thanked, al fel for the beste She shewed wel, for no worldly vnreste A wyfe, as for her selfe, nothynge sholde wyllen in effecte, but as her husbonde wolde

The sclaūder of walter, wōder wyde sprad That of cruel herte, ful wretchedly (For he a poore woman wedded had) Hath murdred both hys chyldren priuely which murmure was amonge hem comenly No wonder was: for to the peoples ere Ther cāe no word, but y^t they murdred were

For whych, there as hys people ther before had loued him wel, disclaūdred of his defame Made hem, that they hated hym therfore To ben a murtherer is an hateful name But nathelesse, for ernest ne for game He of hys cruel purpose wolde not stent To tempt hys wyfe, was al hys entent.

when y^t hys doughter .xii. yere was of age He to the court of Rome, in subtel wyse (Enfourmed of hys wyl) sent hys message Cōmaundyng hem, suche bylles to deuyse As to hys cruel purpose may suffyse Howe that the pope, for hys peoples reste Bade hym wedde another, yf that hym leste.

I saye he bade, they shulde countrefete The popes bulle, makynge mencion That he hath leue, hys fyrst wyfe to lete As by the popes dyspensacion To stynte rancoure and dyscencion Betwyxt hys people & him, thus spake y^t bul The whych they han publyshed at the full The rude people, as no wonder nys wenden ful wel it had ben ryght so But when these tydynges come to Grisyldes I deme, that her herte was ful wo But she was lyche sadde euermo Dysposed was thys humble creature The aduersite of fortune to endure

Abydynge euer hys luste & hys pleasaūte To whome she was yeuen, herte and all As to her worldly suffysaunce But certaynly, yf I thys storie tel shal Thys Markes ywritten hath in special A letter, in whych he shewed hys entent And priuely, he it to Boloyne sent

To the erle of Pauy, whych that had the wedded hys syster: he prayde specially To bryngen him ayen hys chyldren two In honorable estate al openly But one thynge he hym prayde al vtterly that he to no wight, though mēwold enquire Shulde tellen whose chyldren they were.

But say y^t the mayden shulde wedded be Vnto the Markes of Saluce anone And as the erle was prayde, so dyd he For at a daye ysette, he on hys way is gone Towarde Saluce, and lordes many one In ryche aray, thys mayden for to gyde Her yonge brother rydynge by her syde.

Arayed was towarde her mariage Thys mayden freshe, ful of gemmes clere And her brother, that seuen yere was of age Arayed was eke freshely in hys manere And thus in great noblesse and glad chere Towarde Saluce, shapen her iournay Fro day to day, rydynge forth her way.

¶Explicit quarta pars: Et sequitur pars quinta.

Amonge al thys, after hys wycked vsage Thys Markes hys wyfe yet to tempte more To the vtterest profe of her corage Fully to haue experience and lore Yf that she were as stedfast (as before) He on a daye in open audience Ful boystously hath sayd her thys sentence.

Certes Grisylde, I had ynough of plesaūce To han you to my wyfe, for your goodnesse And for your trouth, and your obeysaunce Not for your lynage, ne for your rychesse But I nowe knowe in very sothfastnesse That in great lordshyp, yf I me wel aduyse There is great seruitude in sondry wyse

I may not done, as euery ploughmā maye My people me constrayneth for to take Another wyfe, and cryen daye by daye And eke the pope, thys rancoure for to slake Consenteth it, that dare I vndertake And truely, thus moche I wol you saye My newe wyfe is comynge by the waye.

Be strōge of herte, & voyde anone her place And thylke dowry that ye brought to me Take it ayen, I graunt it of my grace Retourneth to your fathers house ({quod} he) No man may alwaye haue prosperite wyth euen herte, I rede you to endure The stroke of fortune, or of auenture.

And she ayen answerde in pacience: My lorde ({quod} she) I wote and wyst alwaye Howe that bytwyxte your magnificence And my pouert, no man can ne maye Maken no comparison, it is no naye I helde me neuer dygne in no manere To ben your wyfe, ne yet your chamberere

And in thys house, there ye me lady made (The hye god take I, as for my wytnesse And also wysely, as he my soule glade) I helde me neyther lady ne maystresse But humble seruaunt to your worthynesse And euer shal, whyle my lyfe may endure Abouen euery worldly creature.

That ye so longe of your benignite Haue holde me in honour and nobley (where I was not worthy for to be) That thanke I god & you, to whom I prey So yelde it you, there is no more to sey Vnto my father gladly wolde I wende And wyth hym dwel to my lyues ende.

There I was fostred of a chylde ful smale Tyl I be deed, my lyfe there wol I lede A wydowe clene in herte, body and al For sythen I yaue to you my maydenhede And am your trewe wyfe, it is no drede God shylde suche a lordes wyfe to take Another man, to husbonde or to make.

And of your newe wyfe, god of hys grace So graunt you welth and hygh prosperite For I wol gladly yeue her my place In whych I was blysful wonte to be For sythen it lyketh you my lorde ({quod} she) (That whylom weren al my hertes reste) That I shal gone: I shal go when you leste.

But there as ye me profred such dowayre As I fyrst brought, it is wel in my mynde It were my wretched clothes, nothing fayre The which to me now wer ful hard to finde Oh, good god: howe gentel & how kynde? Ye semed by your speche and your vysage The daye that maked was our mariage?

But soth is sayd, algate I fynde it trewe For in effecte it is proued nowe on me Loue is not olde, as when it is newe For certes lorde, for none aduersite To dyen in thys case, it shal neuer be That euer in worde or worke I shal repent That I you yaue myne herte in good entent

My lorde ye wote, that in my fathers place Ye dyd me strype out of my poore wede And rychely ye cladde me of your grace To you brought I nought els out of drede But fayth, nakednesse, and maydenhede But here ayen your clothynge I restore And eke my weddynge rynge for euermore

The remenaunt of your iewels redy be wythin your chambre, dare I safely sayne Naked out of my fathers house ({quod} she) I came: and naked I mote turne agayne Al your pleasaunce wolde I folowe fayne But yet I hope it be not your entent That I smocklesse out of your paleys went

Ye coulde not do so dyshonest a thynge That ylke wōbe, in whych your chyldrē lay Shulde before the people, in my walkinge Be sene al bare: wherfore I you pray Let me not lyke a worme go by the way Remembreth you myne owne lorde so dere I was your wife, though I vnworthy were

Wherfore in rewarde of my maydenhede Which I to you brought, & not ayen bere As vouchesafe to yeue me to my mede But suche a smocke as I was wonte to were That I therwith may wrie y^e wombe of here That was your wyfe: & here I take my leue Of you, myne owne lorde, lest I you greue

¶The smock ({quod} he) y^t thou hast on thy bake Let it be styl, and bere it forthe with the But wel vnneth that worde he spake But went his way, for routhe and pyte Before the folke her selfe strypeth she And in her smocke, with foote & heed al bare Towarde her fathers house forth is she fare

The folke folowed wepyng in her wey And fortune euer they cursed as they gone But she fro wepyng kept her eyen drey Ne in this tyme, worde spake she none Her father, that this tydinges herde anone Cursed the day and tyme that nature Shope him to ben a lyues creature

For out of doute, this olde poore man Was euer suspecte of her maryage For euer he demed, sythen it began That whan the lorde ifylled had his corage Hym wolde thynke it was a disparage To his estate, so lowe for to alyght And voyden her, as sone as euer he might.

¶Ayenst his doughter hastely gothe he (For he by y^e noyse of folk knew her cōming) And with her olde cote, as it might be He couered her, ful sore wepyng But on her body might he it not bring For rude was the clothe, & she more of age By dayes fele than was her mariage.

¶Thus with her father, for a certayne space Dwelleth this floure of wysely pacience That neuer by her wordes, ne by her face Byfore the folke, ne eke in absence Ne shewed she, that her was done offence Ne of her hye estate no remembraunce Ne had she, as by her countenaunce

No wonder is, for in her great estate Her goste was euer in playne humylite No tender mouthe, ne herte delycate Ne pompe, ne semblaunce of royalte But ful of pacience and benygnyte Discrete, and pridelesse, and aye honorable And to her husbonde euer meke and stable

¶Men speke of Iob, & most of his hūblesse As clerkes (whan hem lyste) can wel endyte Namely of men: but in sothfastnesse Though clerkes prayse women but a lyte There can no man in humblesse hem aquyte As women can: ne be halfe so trewe As women ben, but it befal of newe.

¶Explicit quinta pars: et se∣quitur pars sexta.

FRo Boloyne is the erle of Pauy come Of whiche the fame spronge to more and lesse And to the peoples eeres, al and some was couthe eke, howe a newe Marquesesse He w^t him brought, in pompe & suche richesse That was neuer sene with mannes eye So noble aray, in west Lumbardye▪

¶The Markes, that shope a knewe al this Er y^t this erle was come, sent hys message To thylke poore and sely Grisyldis And she with humble herte, & glad vysage Not with swellyng herte in her corage Came at his heste, & on her knees her sette And reuerently and wysely she hym grette.

¶Grisylde ({quod} he) my wyl is vtterly This mayde, that wedded shal be vnto me Receyued be to morowe al so royally As it is possyble in my house to be And eke that euery wyght in his degre Haue his estate in syttyng and seruyse And also plesaunt, as ye can beste deuyse

I haue no woman suffycient certayne The chambres for to araye in ordynaunce After my luste: and therfore wolde I fayne That thyne were al suche gouernaunce Thou knowest eke of olde al my plesaunce Though thyn aray be badde, & yuel besey Do thou thy deuer at the leste wey.

¶Not onely lorde that I am glad ({quod} she) To done your luste, but I desyre also You for to please, and serue in my degre withouten faynyng, and shal euer mo

Ne neuer for no wele, ne for no wo Ne shal the goste wythin my herte stent To loue you best, wyth all my true entent

And with y^t word, she gan y^e house to dyght And tables to sette, and beddes to make And payned her to done al that she myght Prayenge the chamberers for goddes sake To hasten hem, and fast swepe and shake And she the moste seruisable of hem al Hath euery chambre arayed, and hys hal.

Abouten vndren gan thys erle alyght That w^t hī brought these noble childrē twey For whych the people ranne to se that syght Of her araye, so rychely besey And then at erste amonges hem they sey That walter was no foole, though hym lest To chaunge hys wyfe: for it was for y^e best.

For she is fayrer, as they demen al Then is Grisylde, and more tender of age And fayrer frute bytwene hem shal fal And more pleasaunce, for her hye lynage Her brother eke, so fayre was of hys age That hi to sene y^e people had cauʒt plesaūce Comendyng now the Markes gouernaūce

O sterne people, vnsad and vntrewe Aye vndiscrete, and chaungynge as a fane Delytynge euer in rumer that is newe For lyke the moone euer waxe ye & wane Euer ful of clappynge, dere ynough a iane Your dome is false, your cōstāce euel preueth A ful great foole is he that on you leueth

Thus sayden sad folke in that cyte when that the people gased vp and downe For they were glad, ryght wyth the nouelte To haue a newe lady of her toun Nomore of thys make I nowe mencioun But to Grisylde ayen wol I me dresse And tellen her constaūce, and her busynesse

Wel busy was Grisylde on euery thyng That to the feest was appertinent Right nauʒt was she abashed of her clothing Though they were rude, & somwhat to rent But wyth glad chere, to the yate is went wyth other folke, to greten the Marquesesse And after doth she forth her busynesse

wyth ryght glad chere, y^e gestes she receiueth And buromly, euerych in hys degre That no man defaute there perceyueth But euer they wondren, what she myght be That in so poore araye was for to se And coulde suche honour, and reuerence And worthely they praysen her prudence

In al the meane whyle she ne stente Thys mayden and eke her brother to cōmēde wyth al her herte, and benygne entente So wel, that no man coude her pryse amēde But at the laste, when these lordes wende To sytten adowne to meate, he gan to cal Grisylde, as she was busy in the hal.

Grisylde ({quod} he) as it were in hys play Howe lyketh the my wyfe, and her beaute Ryght wel my lorde ({quod} she) for in good fay A fayrer sawe I neuer none then she I praye to god so yeue you prosperite And so hope I, that he wol to you sende Plesaunce ynough, vnto your lyues ende.

But one thynge I besech, and warne also That ye prycke wyth no turmentynge Thys tender mayden, as ye han do mo For she is fostred in her noryshynge More tenderly, in my supposynge She coulde not aduersite endure As coulde a poore fostred creature.

And when thys walter sawe her pacience Her glad chere, and no malyce at al And he so ofte hath done her offence And she aye constante, & stable as a wal Contynuyng euer her innocence ouer al Thys sturdy Markes, gan hys herte dresse To rewe vpon her wyfely stedfastnesse

Thys is ynough, Grisylde myne ({quod} he) Be no more agaste, ne yuel apayde I haue thy fayth, and thy benignite As wel as euer woman was assayde In great estate, or poorely arrayde Nowe knowe I dere wyfe thy stedfastnesse And her in armes toke, and gan to kesse

And she for wonder, toke therof no kepe She herde not what thynge he to her sayde She fared as she had sterte out of her slepe Tyl she out of her masednesse abrayde

Grisylde ({quod} he) by god that for vs deyde Thou arte my wyfe, and none other I haue Ne neuer had, as god my soule saue.

Thys is thy doghter, which y^u hast supposed To ben my wyfe, and none other faythfully And this shal bē myn heyre, as I haue dyspo¦sed Thou bare hem in thy body truely At Boleyne haue I kepte hem sekerly Take hem ayen, for now mayst thou not say That y^u hast lorne any of thy chyldren tway

And folke, that other wyse han sayd of me I warne hem wel, y^t I haue done thys dede For no malyce, ne for no cruelte But for to assaye in the thy womanhede And not for to slee my chyldren, god forbede But for to kepen hem priuely and styl Tyl I thy purpose knewe, and al thy wyl

whē she this herd, a sowne down she falleth For pytous ioye, and after her sownynge She both her yonge chyldren to her calleth And in her armes, pytously wepynge Enbrased hem both, tenderly kyssynge Ful lyke a mother, wyth her salte teeres She bathed both her vysage and her heeres

O whych a pytous thynge it was to se Her sownynge, & her pytous voyce to here Graūt mercy lorde, god thanke it you ({quod} she) That ye haue sailed me my chyldren dere Nowe recke I neuer to be deed ryght here Sythē I stāde in your loue, & in your grace No force of deth, ne when my spirite pace

O tendre, O dere, O yonge chyldrē myne Your woful mother wende stedfastly That cruel hoūdes, or some foule vermyne Had eaten you, but god of hys mercy And your benigne father, so tenderly Hath done you kepe: & in that same stounde Al sodainly she swapte downe to the groūde

And in her swounyng, so sadly holdeth she Her chyldrē two, when she gan hem enbrace That wyth great sleyght and dyfficulte The chyldrē frō her armes they gan to race O many a tere, on many a pytous face Downe ran, of hem that stoden there besyde Vnneth aboute her myght no man abyde. walter her gladdeth, & her sorowe slaketh

She ryseth vp al abashed from her traunce And euery wyght her ioye and feest maketh Tyl she hath caught ayen her countinaunce walter her doth so faythfully plesaunce That it was deynty to sene the chere Betwyxt hem two, whē they were met yfere

These ladyes, when they her tyme sey Han taken her, and into chambre gon And strypen her out of her rude arrey And in a cloth of golde, that bryght shone wyth a crowne of many a ryche stone Vpon her heed, they her into hal brought And there she was honoured as she ought

Thus hath this pytous day a blysful ende For euery man & woman doth hys myght Thys daye in myrth and reuel to dyspende Tyl on the welken shone the sterres bryght For more solempne in euery mannes syght Thys feest was, and greater of costage Then was the reuel of her mariage

wel many a yere, in hye prosperite Lyuen these two, in concorde and in rest And rychely hys doughter maried he Vnto a lorde, one of the worthyest Of al Itayle, and then in peace and rest Hys wyues father in hys courte he kepte Tyl that hys soule out of hys body crepte

Hys sonne succedeth in hys heritage In reste and peace, after hys fathers day And fortunate was eke in mariage Al put he not hys wyfe in great assaye Thys worlde is not so stronge, it is no naye As it hath ben in olde tymes yore And herkneth what thautour sayth therfore

THis story is said, not for y^e wiues shol¦de Felowē Grisyld, in al humilite For it were importable, tho they wol¦de But that euery wyght in hys degre Sulde be constante, in al aduersite As was Grisild, wherfore Petrarke writeth This story, whych w^t hye style he endyteth.

For sythe a woman was so pacient Vnto a mortal man, wel more we ought Receyue al in gree that God vs sent For great skyll he preueth that he wrought But he ne tempteth no man that he bought

As sayeth saynt Iame, yf ye hys pystel rede He preueth folke but a daye, it is no drede

And suffreth vs as for our exercyse wyth sharpe scourges of aduersyte wel ofte to be beaten, in sondry wyse Not for to knowe our wyl, for certes he Or we were borne, knewe al our frelte And for our best, is al hys gouernaunce Let vs lyue then in vertuous suffraunce▪

But one word herkneth lordynges or ye go It were ful harde to fynde now a dayes In al a countre Grisyldes thre or two For yf they were put to suche assayes The golde of hem hath so bad a layes wyth brasse, for though it be fayre at eye It wolde rather braste a two then plye

For which here, for y^e wyues loue of Bathe whose lyfe and secte, myghty god mayntene In hygh maystry, or els were it skathe I wyl wyth lusty herte, freshe and grene Saye you a songe, to glade you I wene And let vs stynte of ernest matere Herkeneth my songe, y^t sayth in thys manere

¶Lenuoye de Chaucer a les mariz de nostre temps.

GRisylde is deed, & eke her pacience And both at ones buryed in Itayle For which I crye in open audience No wedded man be so hardy to assayle Hys wyues pacience, in truste to fynde Grisyldes, for in certayne he shal fayle.

¶O noble wyues, ful of hye prudence Let no humilite your tonge nayle Ne let no clerke haue cause ne deligence To wryte of you a storye of suche maruayle As of Grisylde, pacient and kynde Lest Chechiface swalow you in her entraile

¶Foloweth Ecco, that holdeth no sylence But euer answereth at the countre tayle Beth not adaffed for your innocence But sharpely taketh on you the gouernayle Enprinteth wel thys lesson in your mynde For cōmen profyte, sythnesse it maye auayle

Ne dredeth hem not, doth hem no reuerēce For though thyn husbād armed be in mayle The arrowes of thy crabbed eloquence Shal perce hys brest, & eke hys aduentayle In ielousye eke, loke thou hym bynde And y^t shal make him couch as doth a quayle

Yf y^u be fayre, there folke bene in presence Shewe thou thy vysage, & thyne apparayle Yf thou be foule, be fre of thy dyspence To get the frendes aye do thy trauayle Be aye of chere, as lyght as lefe on lynde And let hym care, wepe, wrynge, and wayle

Ye archwyues, stōdeth aye at your defence Syth ye be stronge, as is a great camayle Ne suffreth not, that men do you offence And ye sklendre wyues, feble as in batayle Beth eygre as any tygre is in Inde Aye clappeth as a myl, I you counsayle.

¶Here endech the clerkes tale of Ox∣forde, and here foloweth the wordes of our hoost.

This worthy clerk, whē ended was his tale Our hoost sayd and swore by cockes bones Me were leuer then a barel of ale My wyfe at home had herd this legēde ones Thys is a gentle tale for the nones As to my purpose, wyste ye my wyl But thynge that wol not be, let it be styl.

¶Here ende the wordes of our hoste, and here foloweth the Franke∣leyns prologue.

THese old gētyll Britons in her dayes Of dyuers auentures maden layes Rymed fyrst in her mother tonge which layes, w^t her instrumentes they songe Or els reden hem for her pleasaunce And one of hem haue I in remembraunce whyche I shal saye, as wyllinge as I can But syrs, bycause I am a borel man At my begynnynge fyrst I you beseche Haue me excused of my rude speche I lerned neuer rethorike certayne Thynge that I speke, mote be bare & playne I slepte neuer on the mounte of Pernaso Ne lerned neuer Marcus Tullius Cicero Coloures ne knowe I none, withoutē drede But suche coloures as growen in the mede Or els suche as men dyen or paynte Coloures of rhetoryke, ben to me quaynte My spirite feleth not of suche matere Thys is my tale, yf ye wol it here.

¶Here endeth the Frankeleyns prologue.

[illustration]

¶Here begynneth the Fran∣keleyns tale.

IN Armorike, y^e called is britain There was a knyght, that lo∣ued and dyd hys payne To serue ladyes in hys best wyse And many a labour, & many a great empryse He for hys lady wrought, er she were wonne For she was one the fayrest vnder sonne And eke therto cōmen of hye kynrede That wel vnneth durst thys knyʒt for drede Tel her hys wo, hys payne, and his dystresse But at the laste, she of her worthynesse And namely for hys meke obeysaunce Hath suche a pyte caught of hys penaunce That priuely she fyl of hys accorde To take hym for her husbonde & her lorde Of such lordship, as mē haue ouer her wiues And for to lede in the more blysse her lyues Of hys fre wyl, he swore her as a knyght That neuer in al her lyfe, daye ne nyght Ne shulde he take vpon hym no maystry Agayne her wyl, ne kythe her ielousye But her obeye, and folowe her wyl in al As any louer to hys lady shal Saue that the name of soueraynte That wolde he haue, for shame of his degre. She thāked him, & with ful great humblesse She sayd: syr, syth of your gentylnesse Ye profred me to haue so large a rayne Ne wolde god neuer betwyxte vs twayne As in my gylt, were it eyther warre or stryfe Syr, I wol be your trewe humble wyfe Haue here my trouth, tyl that my herte breste Thus ben they both in quiete and in reste. For one thynge syrs, safely dare I seyne That frendes, eueryche other must obeyne Yf they wol longe holden companye Loue wol not be constrayned by maystry when maystry cōmeth, the god of loue anone Beateth hys wynges, & farewel he is gone Loue is a thynge, as any spirite free women of kynde desyren lyberte And not to be constrayned as a thral And so done men, yf I sothe say shal Loke who that moste pacient is in loue He is at hys auauntage al aboue Pacience is an hye vertue certayne For it vaynquysheth, as these clerkes sayne Thynges that rygour shal neuer attayne For euery word mē may not chyde or playne Lerneth to suffre, or els so mote I gone Ye shal it lerne, whether ye wol or none For in thys world certayn ••o wyght ther is That he ne doth or sayeth somtyme amys Ire, sycknesse, or constellacion wyne, wo, or chaungynge of complection Causeth ful often to done amysse or speken On euery wronge, a mā may not be wreken After the tyme must be temperaunce

To euery wight that can of gouernaunce And therfore, hath this worthy wyse knight To lyue in ease, suffraunce her hight And she to hym ful wysely gan swere That neuer shulde there be defaut in here Here may men se, humble and wyse accorde Thus hath she take her seruant & her lorde Seruaunt in loue, and lorde in mariage Than was he bothe in lordship and seruage Seruage: nay, but in lordshyp aboue Sythen he hath both his lady and his loue His lady certes, and his wyfe also The which that lawe of londe accordeth to And whan he was in this prosperite Home with his wife he goth, in to his coūtre Nat fer fro Dēmarke, ther his dwelling was where as he lyueth in ioye and in solas who coude tel, but he had wedded be The ioye, the ease, and the prosperite That is bitwixt an husbande & his wyfe Euermore lasted this blysful lyfe Tyl that this knyght, of which I speke thus That of Caere Iuda, was cleped Arueragus Shope him to dwel, a yere or twayne In Englande, that cleped was Britayne To seken in armes worship and honour For al his lust he sette in suche labour And dwelt there two yere, the boke saith thus ¶Nowe wol I stynt of this Arueragus And speke I wol of Dor••gen his wyfe That loueth her husbonde as her hertes lyfe For his absence, wepeth she and syketh As don these noble wyues whan hem lyketh She mourneth, wayleth, fasteth, & playneth Desyre of his presence, her so constrayneth That al this wyde worlde set she at nought Her frendes, whiche knewe her heuy thouʒt Conforten her, in al that euer they may They prechen her, and tellen her night & day That causeles she slewe her selfe, alas And euery comfort possyble in this caas They don to her, with al her busynesse And al for to maken her leue her heuynesse. ¶By processe, as ye knowē euerychone Men mowen so longe grauen in a stone Tyl some fygure therin printed be So longe han they comforted her tyl, she Receyued hath by hope and by reson The enprintyng of her constellacion Through which her great sorow gā aswage She may not alway induren suche a rage And eke Aruyragus in al this care Hath sent his letters home of his welfare And that he wol come hastely agayne Or els had this sorowe her herte slayne. Her frendes sawe her sorowe gan to slake And prayden her on knees, for goddes sake To come and romen in her companye Away to driuen her derke fantasye And fynally she graunted that requeste For wel she sawe it was for the beste. ¶Nowe stode her castel faste by the see And ofte with her frendes walked she Her to disporte on the bankes hey where as she may shyppes and barges sey Salyng her course, where hem lyst go But yet was that a parcel of her wo For to her selfe ful ofte alas sayd she Is there no shyppe, of so many as I se wol bring home my lorde▪ thā were my herte warished of these bytter paynes smerte. ¶Another tyme, wolde she sytte and thynke And caste her eyen downward fro the brinke But whan she sawe the grysly rockes blake For very feare, so wolde her herte quake That on her fete she myght not her sustene Than wolde she sytte adown vpon the grene And pitously in to the see beholde And say right thus, with sorouful sykes colde ¶Eterne god, that through thy purueyaūce Ledest this worlde, by certayne gouernaūce In ydle as mē sayn, doste thou nothing make But lorde, these grisly fendely rockes blake That semen rather a foule confusyon Of werke, than a fayre creacion Of suche a parfyte god, wyse and ful stable why haue ye wrouʒt this werke vnresonable For by this werke, northe, south, west, ne este There nys fostred, man, byrde, ne beste It dothe no good, but anoyeth Se ye not lorde, howe mākinde it distroyeth An hundred thousande bodyes of mankynde Haue rockes issayn, al be they not in mynde Sin mākind is so fayre aparte of thy werke That thou it madest like thyn owne werke Than semed it ye had a great cherte Towarde mākynde, but how thā may it be That ye suche menes maken it to distroyen? which menes don no good, but euer anoyen. ¶I wote wel clerkes wol sayne as hem lest By argumentes, that al is for the best Though I ne can not the causes wel knowe But thilke god, y^t made the wynde to blowe As kepe my lorde, this is my conclusyon

To clerkes let I al thys dysputacion And wolde God that al these rockes blake were sonken in to hel for hys sake. These rockes slee myne herte for feare Thus wolde she say w^t many a pytous teare Her frendes sawe it was for her no dysport To romen by the see, but dyscomfort And shapen hem to playen somwhere elles They leden her by ryuers and by welles And eke in other places delytables They dauncen and they playen at the tables So on a daye, ryght in the morowe tyde Vnto a gardeyne, that was there besyde In which that they had made her ordinaūce Of vytayles, and other purueyaunce They gone and playen hem al the longe day And thys was in the syxte morowe of May which May hath paited w^t his softe shoures Thys gardayne ful of leues and of floures And crafte of mannes hande so curiously Arayed had thys garden truely That neuer nas there garden of such pryse But yf it were the very paradyse The odour of floures, and the freshe syght wolde haue made any herte lyght That euer was borne, but yf to gret sicknesse Or to great sorowe helde it in dystresse So was it ful of beautye, wyth pleasaunce. And after dyner gone they daunce And synge also, saue Dorigene alone That yet vnto her selfe made her mone For she ne sey hym on the daunce go That was her husbande, and her loue also But nathelasse, she muste her tyme abyde And wyth good hope, let her sorowe slyde. ¶Vpon thys daunce, amonge other men Daunced a squyer before Dorigen That fresher was, and iolyer of aray As to my dome, then is the moneth of May He syngeth & daunseth, passynge euery man That is or was, sythen the worlde began And therwythal, & men shulde hym dyscriue One of the best farynge men on lyue Yonge, stronge, vertuouse, ryche, and wyse And welbeloued, and holden of great pryse And shortly, yf I the soth tel shal Vnwetynge of thys Dorigene at al Thys lusty squyer, seruaunt to Venus whych yclypped was Aurelius Had loued her beste of any creature Two yere and more, as was hys auenture But neuer durst he tel her hys greuaunce wythouten cuppe he dronke al hys penaunce He was dyspayred, nothynge durst he say Saue in hys sōges, somwhat wold he wray Hys wo, as in general complayninge He said he loued, and was beloued nothinge Of whych matter made he many layes Songes, complayntes, roundels, verilayes Howe that he durste not hys sorowe tel But languyshe, as doth a fury in hel And dye he muste (he sayd) as dyd Ecco For Narcissus, that durst not tel hys wo ¶In other maner then ye herde me say Ne durst not he to her hys wo bewray Saue perauenture somtyme at daunces There yonge folke kepen her obseruaunces It maye wel be, he loked on her face In suche a wyse, as men that asken grace But nothynge wyst she of hys entent Nathelesse it happed, er they thence went Bycause that he was her neyghbour And was a man of worshyppe and honour And had knowen hym of tymes yore They fel in speche, & so forth more & more Vnto hys purpose then drowe Aurelius And when he sawe hys tyme he sayd thus. ¶Madame ({quod} he) by god y^t this world made So y^t I wyste, y^t I myght your herte glade I wolde that day, that your Aruyragus went ouer the see, that I Aurelius Had went ther y^t I shuld neuer come agayne For wel I wote my seruyce is in vayne My guerdon nys but bresting of myne herte Madame rueth vpon my paynes smerte For with one worde ye may me slee or saue Here at your foote god wold y^t I were graue I ne haue as nowe no leyser more to sey Haue mercy swete, or ye wol do me dey. ¶She gan to loke vpon Aurelius Is thys your wyl ({quod} she) and saye ye thus? Neuer erste ({quod} she) ne wyst I what ye mente But nowe I knowe Aurelius your entente By thylke god, that yaue me soule and lyfe Ne shal I neuer be vntrewe wyfe In word ne ī w••rke, as ferre as I haue wyt I wol be hys to whom I am knyt Take thys for a fynal answere of me But after thys in play thus sayd she. ¶Aurelius ({quod} she) by god aboue Yet wol I graunt you to ben your loue (Sythen I se you so pytously complayne) Loke what daye that endelonge Britayne Ye remeue al the rockes, stone by stone

That they ne let shyppe ne bote to gone I say whē ye haue made these costes so clene Of rockes, that there nys no stone ysene Then wol I loue you best of any man Her•• haue my trouth, in al that euer I can. Is there none other grace in you ({quod} he?) ¶No by that lorde ({quod} she) that maked me For wel I wote that it shal neuer betyde Let suche foly out of your herte glyde what deyntye shulde a man haue in hys lyfe For to go loue another mannes wyfe? That hath her body whē so that hym lyketh ¶Aurelius ful ofte sore syketh Wo was Aurely, when he thys herde And w^t a sorowful chere he thus answerde. ¶Madame ({quod} he) thys were impossible Then mote I dye on sodayne death horrible And wyth that worde he turned hym anone. ¶Tho come her other frendes euerychone And in the aleyes romeden vp and doun And nothynge wyst of thys conclusioun But sodeynly began to reuel newe Tyl that the bryght sonne loste hys hewe For the orizont hath re••te the sonne his light Thys is as much to saye, as it was nyght And home they gone in ioye and in solas Saue onely wretched Aurelius, alas He to hys house is gone with sorowful harte He sayd he myght not from hys death astarte Hym semed, that he felte hys herte colde Vp to heuen hys handes gan he holde And on hys knees bare, he set hym adoun And in hys rauynge sayd thys orisoun For very wo out of hys wytte he brayde He ne wyst what he spake, but thus he sayde with pitous hert hath his cōplaynt begonne Vnto the goddes, and fyrst vnto the sonne He sayd: God Appollo and gouernour Of euery plante, herbe, tre, and flour That yeuest after thy declinacion To ylke of hem hys tyme and ceson As thyne herberowe chaungeth lowe & hye Lorde Phebus, caste thy merciable eye On wretched Aurelius, whych am but lorne Lo lorde, my lady hath my death ysworne wythout gylte, but thy benignite Vpon my deadly herte haue some pyte For wel I wote lorde Phebus, yf ye leste Ye maye me helpe saue my lady beste Nowe vouche ye saue, that I you deuyse Howe that I may be holpen & in what wyse ¶Your blysful suster Lucina the shene That of the see is goddesse and quene Though Neptunus hath deite in the see Yet empresse abouen hym is she Ye knowen wel lorde, ryght as her desyre Is to be quyckened and lyghted of your fyre For whych that she foloweth you ful besely Ryght so the see desyreth naturally To folowen her that is goddesse Both of the see, and ryuers more and lesse wherfore lorde Phebus, thys is my request Do thys myracle, or do myne herte brest That nowe nexte at thys opposicion which in sygne shalbe the lyon As prayeth her so great a floode to brynge That fyue fadome at the lest, it ouer sprynge The hyest rocke in Armoryke Britayne And let thys floode dure yeares twayne Then rertes to my lady may I saye Holdeth your heste, the rockes ben awaye Thys thynge may ye lyghtly done for me Pray her to gone no faster course then ye I say thus, prayeth your s••ster that she go No faster course then ye in yeres two Then shal she be at the ful alway And spryng floode lastyng both nyght & day And but she vouchsafe in suche manere To graunt me my souerayne lady dere Pray her to synken euery rocke adoun In to her owne darke regioun Vnder the grounde, there pluto dwelleth in Or neuer more shal I my lady wyn Thy tēple in Delphos, wol I barefote seke O lorde Phebus, se the teres on my cheke And on my payne haue some compassioun And wyth y^e worde, in swoune he fel adoun And longe tyme he lay in a traunce His brother, which y^t knew of his penaūce Vp caught hym, and to bed hym brought Dyspayred in thys turmēt & this thought Lette I thys woful creature lye Chese he whether he wol lyue or dye. ¶Aruyragus wyth heale and great honour (As he that was of chyualry the floure) Is comen home, and other worthy men O blysful arte thou nowe Dorigen That hast thy lusty husbōde in thyne armes That freshe knight, y^e worthy man of armes Thot loueth the, as hys owne hertes lyfe Nothynge lyst hym to be ymaginatyfe Yf any wyght had spokē (while he was out) To her of loue, therof had he no dout He entendeth not to suche matere

But dāceth, lusteth, & maketh her good chere And thus in ioye & blysse let hym dwel And of woful Aurelius wol I tel ¶In langour and in tourment dyspitous Two yere and more, lay wretched Aurelius Er any fote on erth he myght gone Ne comforte in thys tyme had he none Saue of hys brother whych was a clerke He knewe of al thys wo and al thys werke For to none other creature certayne Of thys mater durst he no worde sayne Vnder hys brest he bare it more secre Then euer dyd Pamphilus for Galathe Hys brest was hole wythout for to sene But in hys herte aye, was the arowe kene And wel ye knowen that of a sursanure In surgery, is perlous the cure But mē myght touch y^e arow or come therby Hys brother wepeth and wayleth priuely Tyl at the last hym fel in remembraunce That whyle he was at Orliaūce in Fraūce (As these clerkes yonge that ben lykerous) To reden artes they ben curiouse Seken in euery halke and in euery herne Perticuler science for to lerne He hym remembred that vpon a dey At Orliaunce in studye a boke he sey Of magyke naturel, whych hys felawe That was in that tyme a bacheler of lawe Al were he there to lerne another crafte Had priuely vpon hys dere ylafte whych booke spake of mochel aperacions Touchynge the .xxiiij. mansions That longen to the moone, and such folye As in our dayes is not worth a flye For holy church sayeth in our byleue Ne sustreth none illusyon vs to greue And when thys boke was in his remēbraūce Anone for ioye hys hyrte gan daunce And to hym selfe he sayd priuely My brother shalbe waryshed sykerly For I am syker that there be sciences By whych men maken dyuers aparences Suche as these subtel tregetores play For ofte at feestes haue I wel herde say That tragetors, wythin an hal large Haue made come in water and a barge And in the hall rowen vp and doun Somtyme hath semed a grym lyoun And somtyme floures sprynge as in a meede Somtyme a vyne, and grapes whyte & rede Somtyme a castel of lyme and stone And when hym lyked, voyden hem anone Thus semed it to euery mannes syght. ¶Now then conclude I thus, yf y^t I myght At Orliaunce some olde felowe fynde That had this moones mansions in mynde Or other magyke naturel aboue He shuld wel make my brother haue his loue For wyth an apparaunce a clerke may make To mannes syght, that al the rockes blake Of Britayne, were yuoyded euerychone And shyppes by the brynke to comen & gone And in such forme enduren a yere or two Then were my brother waryshed of hys wo Then muste she nedes holde her behest Or els he shal shame her at the lest. ¶what shuld I make a lenger tale of thys Vnto hys brothers bedde he comen is And suche comforte he yaue hym for to gone To Orliaunce, that he vp sterte anone And on hys way then is he forth yfare In hope to ben lessed of hys care. ¶when they were comen almoste to y^e cyte (But yf it were a two furlonge or thre) A yonge clerke roming by him selfe they met whych that in latyn thryftely hem gret And afterwarde he sayd a wonder thynge I knowe the cause of your cōmynge And er they farther any foote wente He tolde hem al that was in her entente. ¶Thys Breton clerke asked him of felowes The whych he had knowen in olde dayes He answered hym, that they deed were For whych he wept ofte ful many a tere ¶Downe of his horse Aurelius light anone And wyth this magicien forth is he gone Home to hys house, & made hym wel at ese Hem lacked no vytaile that hem might plese So wel arayed an house as there was one Aurelius in hys lyfe sawe neuer none. ¶He shewed hym, or he went to suppere Forestes and parkes, ful of wylde dere He sawe there hertes, wyth her hornes hye The greatest that euer were sene wyth eye He se of hem an hundred slaine with hoūdes And some of arowes bled w^t bytter woūdes He sawe, when voyded were the wylde dere These fauconers, vpon a fayre ryuere That wyth the haukes han the heron slayne Tho saw he knightes iustyng in a playne And after thys he dyd hym suche pleasaunce That he hym shewed hys lady in a daunce On which him selfe daūced as hym thought

And whā this maister, y^t this magike wrouʒt Sawe it was tyme, he clapped his hōdes to And farwel our reuel, al was ago And remeued neuer out of his house whyle they sawe al this syght merueylouse But in his studye there his bokes be They saten styl, no wight but they thre ¶To him this maister called his squyer And sayd hym thus, is redy our supper Almost an hour it is, I vndertake Sythen I you bade our supper redy make whan that these worthy men went with me Into my studye, there as my bokes be ¶Sir ({quod} the squier) whan it lyketh you It is al redy, though ye wol right nowe. ¶Go we suppe than ({quod} he) for the best These amerous folke sōtyme mote haue rest And after supper fel they in trete what somme shuld this maisters guerdon be To remeue al the rockes of Britayne And eke frō Gironde to the mouth of sayne ¶He made it strāge, & swore so god him saue Lasse thā a thousād poūde wold he not haue Ne gladly for that somme nolde he it don. ¶Aurelyus with blysful herte anon Answerde thus: Fye on a thousande poūde This wyde worlde, which men say is roūde I wolde it yeue, yf I were sorde of it This bargayne is ful driue, for we be knyt Ye shal be payde truely by my trouthe But loke nowe for no negligence or slouthe Ye taryen vs here no lenger than to morowe Nay ({quod} this clerke) here my trouth to borow ¶To bedde is gon Aurelius whan him leste And wel nye alnight he had his reste what for his labour, and his hope of blysse His woful herte of penaunce had a lysse▪ ¶Vpon the morowe whan that it was day To Britayne toke they the right way Aurelius, and this magicyen him besyde And ben discended there they wolde abyde And this was, as the boke dothe remembre In the colde frosty ceson of Decembre. ¶Phebus waxed olde, & hewed ilyke laton That afore in his hote declynacion Shone as y^e brēning golde w^t stremes bright But nowe in Capricorne adowne he lyght where as he shone ful pale, I dare wel sayne The bytter froste, with the slidder rayne Distroyed hath the grene in euery yerde Ianus syt by the fyre with double berde And drinketh of his bugle horne the wyne Biforn him stont braune of the tusked swyne And nowel cryeth euery lusty man. ¶Aurelius, in al that euer he can Dothe to this maister chere and reuerence And prayeth him to don his dyligence To bryngen him out of his paynes smerte Or with a swerde that he wold slyt his herte This clerke suche routhe hath on this mā That night & day he spedeth him that he can To wayte a tyme of hys conclusyon This is to say, to make illusyon Or suche an apparence or iogelrye I ne can no termes of astrologye That she and euery wight shulde wene & say That of Britayne the rockes were away Or els they were sonken vnder the grounde Tyl at the laste he hath his tyme yfounde To make his iapes and his wretchydnesse Of suche superstycious cursydnesse His tollytan tables he forthe brought Ful wel corrected, hym lacked nought Neyther his collecte, ne his expans yeres Ne his rootes, ne his other geres As byn his centrys, and his argumentes And his proporcionel conuenyences For his equacions in euery thyng And by his eyght speres in his werkyng He knew ful wel howe far alnath was shoue Fro the heed of thylke syxe Aries aboue That in the nynthe spere consydred is Ful subtelly he had calked al this And whan he had founde hys fyrst mansyon He knewe the remenaunt by proporcion And knewe the rysyng of the moone wele And in suche face, the terme and euery dele And knewe also his other obseruaunces For suche illusyons and suche mischaunces As hethen folke vsed in thylke dayes For whiche ne maked he no lenger delayes But through his magike, for a weke or tway It semed that al the rockes were away. ¶Aurelius, whiche that dispayred is whether he shal haue his loue, or fare amys Awayteth night and day on thys myracle And whan he knewe there was non obstacle But y^t voyded were these rockes euerychon Downe to the maisters fete he fel anon And sayd, I woful wretche Aurelius Thanke you lorde and lady myne Venus That me hath holpen fro my cares colde And to y^e temple his way forth hath he holde where as he knewe he shulde his lady se

And whan he sawe his tyme, anon right he with dredful herte, & with humble chere Salued hath his souerayne lady dere. ¶My rightful lady ({quod} this woful man) whom I serue and loue, as I best can And lothest were of al this worlde displese Nere it that I for you haue suche disese That I must dye here at your fete anon Nought wold I tel you how wome is begō But certes eyther muste I dye or playne Ye slee me gyltlesse for very payne But of my dethe though ye haue no routhe Auysen you, er that ye breken your trouthe Repenteth you, for that ylke god aboue For ye slee me, bycause that I you loue For madame, wel ye wote that ye haue hight Not that I chalenge any thyng of right Of you my souerayn lady, but of your grace But in a garden yonde in suche a place Ye wotte right wel what ye heyght me And in myn honde your trouth plyght ye To loue me best, god wotte ye sayd so? Al be it I am vnworthy therto Madame I speke it for the honour of you More than for to saue myn hertes lyfe nowe I haue done right as ye commaunded me And yf ye vouchsafe, ye may go se Doth as you list, haueth your heste in mynde For quicke or deed, right ther ye shal me fynde In you lythe al to do me lyue or deye But wel I wote the rockes ben aweye He toke his leue, and she astonyed stode In al her face there nas a droppe of bloode She wende neuer han come in such a trappe ¶Alas ({quod} she) that euer this shulde happe For wende I neuer by possibylite That such a mister or meruayle might be It is ayenst the processe of nature And home she gothe a sorouful creature For very feare vnnethes may she go She wepeth and wayleth a day or two And swonneth, that it was routhe to se But why it was to no wight tolde she For out of towne was gon Arueragus But to her selfe she spake, and sayd thus In her complaynt, as ye shal after here with face pale, & with sorouful chere. Alas ({quod} she) on the fortune I playne That vnware hast wrapped me ī thy chayne Fro whiche to escape, wot I no socoure Saue onely dethe, or els dishonoure One of these two behoueth me to chese But nathelesse, yet had I leuer to lese My lyfe, than of my body to haue a shame Or knowe my selfe false, or lese my name And with my dethe, I may be quyt iwys Hath there not many a wyfe er this And many a mayd, islayn her selfe alas Rather than with her body done trespas And certes lo, these stories beren wytnesse whan thurty tyrantes, ful of cursydnesse Had stayne Phidon, in Athenes at the feest They commaunded his doughters to areste And bringen hem byforne hem in dispyte Al naked, to fulfyl her foule delyte And in her fathers bloode, he dyd hem daūce Vpon the pauemēt, god yeue him mischaunce For which these woful maydens ful of drede Rather thē they wold lesen her maydenhede They priuely ben sterte in to a wel And drenched hem selfe, as bokes tell. They of Messene let enquire and seke Of Lacidomony fyfty maydens eke On which they wolde haue don her lechery But there was none of al that company That she nas slayne, and with a glad enten•• Chese rather for to dyen, than for to assent To ben oppressed of her maydenhede why shulde I than to dye ben in drede? Lo eke the tyraunt Aristoclides That loued a mayde, y^t hight Symphalydes whan that her father slayne was on a nyght Vnto Dyanes temple gothe she anon ryght And hente the ymage, with her armes two Fro whiche ymage wolde she neuer go No wight might fro it her hondes race Tyl she was slayne, right in the selfe place. Now sythnes y^t maydens had such dispyte To ben defouled with mannes foule delyte wel ought a wyfe rather her selfe slee Than be defouled, as thynketh me. What shal I say of Hasdruballes wyfe? That at Cartage byrafte her selfe her lyfe For whā she sawe y^e romanes wan the town She toke her chyldren al, and lepte adown Into the fyre, and chese rather to dye Than any roman dyd her villanye. Hath not Lucrece islayne her selfe, alas At Rome, there she oppressed was Of Tarquyne, for her thought it was shame To lyue, whan that she had lost her name. The eyght maydens of Melesye also Han slayn hem selue for very drede and wo Rather than folke of Gaule shuld hē oppresse

Mo than a thousande stories, as I gesse Couthe I nowe tel, as touchyng this matere ¶whan Abradas was slayn, his wife so dere Her selfe slowe, and let her bloode to glyde In Abradas woundes, brode and wyde And sayd, my body at the leste way There shal no wight defoule yf I may. ¶What shulde I mo ensamples herof sayn? Sythens that so many han hem selfe slayn Wel rather than they wolde defouled be I wol conclude that it is best for me Wel rather slee my selfe in some manere As dyd demo••tious doughter dere Bycause that she nolde not defouled be. ¶O Sedasus, it is ful great pyte To reden howe thy doughters dyden, alas? That slowen hem selfe for such a maner caas As great a pyte was it or wel more The Theban mayden, that for Nychanore For one of Macedone had her oppressed with her dethe her maydenhede she redressed ¶What shal I sayne of Nycerates wyfe That for suche case birafte her selfe her lyfe? ¶Howe trewe was eke to Alcibyades His loue, that for to dyen rather thees Than for to suffren his body vnburyed be ¶Lo whiche a wyfe was Alceste ({quod} she) what saythe Homere of good Penelope? Al Grece knoweth of her chastyte. ¶Parde of Laodomia is written thus That whā at Troy was slayn Protheselaus No lenger nolde she lyue after his day. ¶The same of noble Portia tel I may withouten Brutus couthe she not lyue To whom she had al her herte igyue. ¶The parfyte wyfehode of Artemisy Honoured is, throughout al Barbary ¶Oh Thenta quene, thy wifely chastyte To al wyues may a myrrour be. The same thyng I saye of Bil••a Of Rodogone, and eke Valeria. ¶Thus playned Dorigene a day or twey Purposyng euer that she wolde dey But nathelesse vpon the thyrde nyght Home came Arueragus, the worthy knight And asked her why she wepte so sore And she gan wepen euer lenger the more ¶Alas ({quod} she) that euer was I borne Thus haue I said ({quod} she) thus haue I sworn And tolde him al, as ye haue herde before It nedeth not to reherce it no more. ¶This husbōde w^t glad chere in sōdrie wyse Answerde and sayd, as I shal you deuyse Is there aught els Dorigene but this. ¶Nay nay ({quod} she) god helpe me so as wys This is to moche, and it were goddes wyl. ¶Ye wyfe ({quod} he) let slepe that is styl It may be wel yet parauenture to day Ye shal your trouthe holde by my fay For god so wysly haue mercy on me I had wel leuer stycked for to be For very loue, whiche that I to you haue But yf ye shulde your trouthe saue Trouth is the hyest thyng that mē may kepe But with that worde he brast anon to wepe And said, I you forbyd on payne of dethe That neuer whiles you lasteth lyfe or brethe To no wight tel of this misauenture As I may beste I wol my wo endure Ne make no countenaunce of heuynesse That folke of you may deme harme ne gesse And forthe he cleped a squier and a mayde Gothe forthe anon with Dorigene he sayde And bringeth her in suche a place anone They toke her leue, & on her way they gone But they ne wyste why she thyder went She nolde no wight tel her entent. ¶This squier, whiche that hyght Aurelius On Dorigen, whiche that was so amerous Of auenture happed her to mete Amydde the towne, right in the hye strete As she wolde haue gon the way forthe right Towarde the garden, there as she had hyght And he was to the garden warde also For wel he spyed whan she wolde go Out of her house, to any maner place But thus they met of auenture or of grace And he salueth her with glad entent And asked of her whyther that she went. ¶And she answerde halfe as she were madde Vnto the garden as my husbonde badde My trouthe for to holde, alas alas. Aurelius gan wondren of this caas And in his hert had great compassyon Of her chere, and of her lamentation And of Aruyragus the worthy knyght That bade her holde al that she had hyght So loth he was y^t she shuld breke her trouth And in hys herte he caught of it great routh Consydryng the beste on euery syde That fro his luste were him better abyde Than do so hye a churlishe wretchydnesse Ayenst fraunchise, & ayenst al gentylnesse For whiche in fewe wordes said he thus

Madame, saythe to your lorde Aruiragus That sythen I se this great gentylnesse Of hym, and eke I se wel your distresse That ye to me thus shuld holde your trouthe Certes me thynketh it were great routhe I haue wel leuer euer to suffre wo Than departe the loue bytwyxt you two I you relese madame into your honde Quyte euery surement and euery bonde That ye haue made to me, as here byforne Sythens thylke tyme that ye were borne my trouth I plight, I shal you neuer repreue Of no beheste, and here I take my leue As of the trewest and the beste wyfe That euer yet I knewe in al my lyfe But euery wight beware of her byheste On Dorigene remembreth at the leste Thus can a squyer done a gently dede As wel as can a knyght, withouten drede. ¶She thonked hym vpon her knees al bare And home vnto her husbonde is she fare And tolde him al, as ye han herde me sayde And be ye syker, he was so wel apayde That it were vnpossible me to write What shulde I lenger of this case endyte? Arueragus, and Dorigen his wyfe In souerayne blysse leden forthe her lyfe Neuer after was there anger hem bytwene He cherished her, as though she were a quene And she was to him trewe for euermore Of these two folkes ye get of me nomore. Aurelius, that his coste hath al forlorne Curseth the tyme that euer he was borne Alas ({quod} he) alas that euer I beheyght Of pured golde a thousand poūde of wright Vnto this philosopher, howe shal I do? I se no more, but that I am for do Myne heritage more I nedes sel And ben a begger, here may I no lēger dwel And shame al my kynrede in this place But I of hym may get better grace But nathelesse I wol of hym assay At certayne dayes, yere by yere to pay And thonke hym of hys great curtesye My trouthe wol I kepe, I wol not lye. With herte ••ore, he gothe vnto his cofer And brought golde vnto this phylosopher The value of fyne hundred poūde as I gesse And hym besecheth of hys gentylnesse To graunt him dayes of the remenaunt And sayd: mayster I dare wel make auaunt I fayled neuer of my trouthe as yet For sykerly my hette shal be quyt Towardes you, howe that euer I fare To gon a beggyng in my kyrtel bare But wolde ye vouchesafe vpon suerte Two yere or thre for to respyte me Than were I wel, for els mot I sel Myne heritage, there is no more to tel. This philosopher soberly answerde And sayd thus, whan he this worde herde Haue I not holde couenaunt vnto the? Yes certes, wel and truely ({quod} he) Haste thou not had thy lady as the lyketh? No no ({quod} he) and sorily he syketh what was the cause, tel me yf that thou can. Aurelius anon his tale began And tolde hym al as ye han herde byfore It nedeth not to reherce it any more. He sayd Arueragus of gentylnesse Had leuer dye in sorowe and in distresse Than his wyfe were of her trouthe fals The sorowe of Dorigene he tolde hym als Howe lothe she was to ben a wycked wyfe And that she had leuer haue loste her lyfe And y^t her trouth she swore throug innocēce She neuer erste herde speke of apparence That made me haue of her so great pyte And right as frely as he sent her to me As frely sent I her to hym agayne This is al & some, there nys no more to same. The philosopher answerde, leue brother Eueriche of you dyd gentilly to other Thou arte a squier, and he is a knyght But god forbyd, for his blisful myght But yf a clerke coulde done a gentyl dede As wel as any of you, it is do drede. Syr I relese the thy thousande pounde As now thou were crope out of the grounde Ne neuer er nowe haddest thou knowen me For syr, I wol not taken a peny of the For al my crafte, ne nought for my trauayle Thou haste ••payed right wel for my vitayle It is ynough, and farwel & haue good day And toke his horse, & rode forthe on his way. Lordynges this question wold I aske now whiche was the moste fre, as thynketh you? Nowe telleth me, er that I ferther wende I can no more, my tale is at an ende.

¶Here endeth the Frankeleyns tale, and begynneth the seconde nonnes prologue.

THe mynistre & the norice vn∣to vyces Which that men clepen in en¦glishe idlenesse That is porter of the yate of delyces To eschue, & by her contrarie her oppresse That is to sayne, by leful besynesse wel ought we to don your entent Leste that the fende through idlenesse vs hēt

For he that with his thousande cordes slye Contynually vs wayteth to be clappe whan he may man in ydlenesse espye He can so lightly catche him in his trappe Tyl that a man be hente, right by the lappe He nis not ware the fende hath him in honde wel ought vs werche, & ydlenesse witstonde

And though men dredden neuer for to dye Yet se men wel by reson doutles That ydlenesse is rote of slogardye Of which there cometh neuer no good encres And sythnes that slouth holdeth hē in a lees Only to slepe, and for to eate and drynke And to deuouren al that other swynke

And for to put vs from suche ydelnesse That cause is of so great confusyon I haue here done my faythful besynesse After the legende in translacion Right of thy glorious lyfe and passyon Thou w^t thy garlōde, wrought w^t rose & lely The mene I, mayd and marter seynt Cecely

¶And thou that arte floure of virgins all Of whom that Bernarde lyst so wel to write To the at my begynnyng fyrst I cal Thou comforte of vs wretches, do me endyte Thy maydēs deth, y^t wan thorow her merite The eternal lyfe, and of the fende victorie As men may after rede in her storie

Thou maydē & mother, doughter of thy sōne Thou wel of mercy, synful soules cure In whom that god of boūte chese for to wōne Thou humble and hye ouer euery ceature Thou noblest, so farre ouer nature That no disdayne the maker had of kynde His sōne in bloode & fleshe to clothe & wynde

Whiche in the cloystre of thy blisful sydis Toke mannes shappe, the eterne loue & pees That of the true compas, lorde & gyde is whom heuen, erthe, and see, withouten les Aye heryen, and thou virgyne wemles Bare of thy body, & dweldest mayden pure The creatour of euery creature

Assembled is in the magnifycence with mercy, goodnesse, and with suche pyt That thou arte the sonne of excellence Not onely that helpest hem that prayenth But often tyme of thy benignyte Ful frely, or that men thyne helpe beseche Thou goest beforne, and arte her lyues leche.

Now helpe thou blisful, & meke fayre mayde Me flemed wretche, in this deserte of gal Thynke on the woman of Canane, that sayd That whelpes eaten some of y^e crōmes smal That from her lordes table ben isal And though y^t I vnworthy doughter of Eue Be synful, yet accepteth my beleue

And for y^e fayth is deed withouten werkis So for to werche, yeue me wytte and space That I be quyt from y^e place y^t most derke is O thou that arte so fayre and ful of grace Be myne aduocate in that hye place There as without ende is songe Osanna Thou Christes mother, & doughter of Anna

And of thy light, my soule in prison lyght That troubled is by the contagyon Of my body, and also by the wyght Of erthly luste, and also false affection O hauen, O refute, O saluacion Of hem that ben in sorowe and distresse Now helpe, for to my werke I wol me dresse

Yet I pray you that reden that I write Foryeueth me, that I do no dyligence This ylke storie subtelly to endyte For bothe haue I the wordes & the sentence Of hym that at the sayntes reuerence The storie wrote, and folowen her legende And pray you that ye wol my werke amende

¶Fyrst wol I you the name of seynt Cecily Expowne, as men may in her storie se It is to say in englishe, heuens lylly For pure chastnesse of virgynite Or for she wytnesse had of honeste

And grene of conscience, and of good fame The sote sauoure lylye was her name

Or Cecily is to say, the way to blynde For she ensample was by good techyng Or els Cecily, as I written fynde Is ioyned by a maner conioynyng Of heuen and Lya, in her fyguring The heuen is set for thought of holynesse And lya, for her lastyng besynesse

Cecily may eke be sayd in this manere wantyng of blyndnesse, for her great lyght Of sapience, and for her thewes clere Or els Lo, this maydens name bright Of heuen & Leos cometh, of whiche by ryght Men might the heuen of people her cal Ensample of good and wyse werkes al

For Leos people, in Englishe is to say And right as men may in the heuen se The sunne, and moone, & sterres euery way Right so men gostly, in this mayden fre Sawen of faythe, the great magnanymite And eke the clerenesse hole of sapience And sondrie werkes, bright of excellence

And right so as these philosophers write That heuen is swyfte, rounde, & eke brēnyng Right so was fayre Cecily the whyte Ful swyfte and besy in euery good workynge And rounde and hole in good perseuerynge And brennyng euer in charyte ful bright Nowe haue I declared you what she hight.

¶Here endeth the seconde nonnes Prologue, and begynneth her tale.

[illustration]

THis mayden bright Cecile, as her lyfe sayth was comen of Romanes, and of noble kynde And so forthe fostred vp in the fayth Of Christ & bare his gospel in her mynde She neuer cessed, as I written fynde Of her prayere, and god to loue and drede Besechyng hym to kepe her maydenhede

And whan this mayde shulde vnto a man I wedded be, that ful yonge of age whiche that yeleped was Valeryan And daye was come of her maryage She ful deuoute and humble in her corage Vnder her robe of golde, y^e sate ful fayre Had next her fleshe yclad her in an heyre

And whyles that the organs made melodye To god alone thus in herte songe she O lorde, my soule and eke my body gye Vnwemmed, leste I counfounded be

And for hi•• loue that dyed vpon a tre Euery seconde or thirde day she faste Aye byddyng in her orisons ful faste.

¶The night came, & to bedde must she gone with her husbonde, as often is the manere And priuely she sayd vnto hym anon O swete and wel byloued spouse dere There is a counsayle, and ye wol it here Which that right fayne I wold to you sayne So that ye me ensure, it not to bewrayne.

¶Valeryan gan faste vnto her swere That for no case, ne thyng that myght be He shulde neuer to none bewrayen here And than at erste, thus to hym sayd she I haue an angel, whiche that loueth me That w^t gret loue, where so I wake or slepe Is redy aye, my body for to kepe

And yf that he may felen out of drede That ye me touche or loue in vylonye He right anon wyl slee you with the dede And in your youthe thus shal ye dye And yf that ye in clene loue me gye He wol you loue as me, for your clennesse And shewe you of hys ioye and brightnesse.

¶This Valeryan, corrected as god wolde Answerde ayen, yf I shal trust the Let me that aungel se, and hym beholde And yf that it a very aungel be Than wol I done as thou haste prayde me And yf thou loue another man forsothe Right w^t this sworde thā wol I sle you both

¶Cecyle answerde anon in this wyse If that ye luste, that angel shul ye se So that ye trowe on Christ and you baptyse Gothe forthe to V••a apia ({quod} she) That from this town ne stāt but myles thre And to the poore folke that there dwel Say hem right thus, as I shal you tel

Tel hem that I Cecyle, you to hem sende To shewen you the good Vrban the olde For secret nedes, and for good entent And whan that ye saynt Vrban han beholde Tel hym the wordes, that I to you tolde And whā that he hath purged you fro synne Than shal ye se that aungel er ye twynne.

Valeryan is to that place ygon And right as him was taught by his lerning He founde this holy Vrban anon Amonge these sayntes buryals loutyng And he anon, without taryeng Dyd his message, and whan he had it tolde Vrban for ioy, gan his hondes vp holde

The teres from his eyen let he fall Almighty god, O Iesu christ ({quod} he) Sower of chaste counsayle, hierde of vs al The frute of thilke sede of chastyte That thou haste sowe in Cecyle, take to the Lo lyke a besy bee, withouten gyle The serueth aye thyne owne thral Cecyle

For thylke spouse, that she toke but newe Ful lyke a fierse lyon, she sendeth here As meke as any lambe was to ewe And with that worde, anon there gan apere An olde man, cladde in whyte clothes clere That had a boke with letters of gold in hōde And gan byforne Valeryan for to stonde.

¶Valeryan as deed fel downe for drede whan he this olde man sawe standyng so whiche forwith anon he herde him rede O lorde, O faythe, O god withouten mo Of christendom, and father of al also Abouen al, and ouer al euery where These wordes al with golde written were

whā this was radde, thā sayd this olde mā Leuest thou this thyng or none, say ye or nay I leue al this thyng ({quod} Valeryan) Vnder the heuen no wight ne thynke may Sother thyng than this, I dare wel say Tho vanyshed the olde man, he nyst where And pope Vrban hym christened right there

¶Valeryan gothe home, & fyndeth Cecilye within his chambre, with an aungel stonde This aungel had of rose and of lyllye Crownes two, the whiche he bare in honde And fyrst to Cecyle, as I vnderstonde He yaue that one, and after gan he take That other to Valeryan her make

with body clene, & w^t vnwemmed thought Kepeth aye wel these crownes ({quod} he) From paradyse to you I haue hem brought Ne neuer more shullen rotten be

Ne lese her swete sauour, trusteth me Ne neuer wight shal sene hem with eye But he be chaste, and hate vilonye

And thou Valeryan, for thou so sone Assenteddest to good counsayle also Say what y^u lyst, & thou shalt haue thy bone I haue a brother ({quod} Valeryan tho) That in this world I loue no man so I pray you that my brother may haue grace To knowe the trouthe, as I do in this place.

The angel answerd, god lyketh your request And bothe with the palme of martyrdome Shal ye come vnto the blisful feest And with y^e word Tyburce his brother come And whan that he the sauoure vndernome whiche that the roses and the lylyes caste within his herte he gan to wonder faste

¶And sayd: I wōder this tyme of the yere whence that this sote sauoure cometh so Of roses and lylyes, that I smel here For though I had hem in myne hondes two The sauour might in me no deper go The swete smel, that in my herte I fynde Hath chaunged me al in another kynde.

¶Valeryan sayd, two crownes haue we Snowe whyte & rose reed, that shyneth clere which that thyne eyen han no might to se And as thou smellest hem thrugh my prayere So shalt thou seen hem my leue brother dere If it so be that thou wylte without slouthe Byleue a right, and knowe the very trouthe.

¶Tyburce answerd, sayest thou this to me In sothnesse, or in dreme herken I this? In dremes ({quod} Valerian) han we be Vnto this tyme, brother myne iwys But nowe at erst, our dwellyng in trouthe is Howe wost thou (quod Tyburce) & in what wyse Quod Valeryan, that I shal the deuyse.

The angel of god hath me y^e trouth itaught which thou shalt seen, & thou wilt reney The ydols, and be clene, and els naught And of the myracles of these crownes twey Saynt Ambrose in his preface luste to sey Solempnly this noble doctour dere Cōmendeth it, and saythe in this manere.

¶The palme of martyrdom for to receyue Seynt Cecile, fulfylled of goddes yefte The world & eke her chambre gan she weyu•• witnesse Tyburce, and Cecyles shrifte To which god of his bounte wolde shyfte Crownes two, of floures wel smellyng And made the angel hē tho Crownes bryng

The mayde hath brought hem to blisse aboue The world hath wist what it is worth certal Deuotion and chastyte wel for to loue Tho shewed him Cecyle al open and playn That al ydolles ben but thynges in vayne For they ben dombe, & therto they ben defe And charged hym hys ydoles for to lefe

Who that troweth not this, a beest he is (Quod this Tyburce) yf that I shal not lye She kyssed his brest whan she herde this And was ful glad he couthe trouthe espye This day take I the for myne allye Sayd this blisful mayden fayre and dere For after that she sayd as ye may here.

¶Lo right so as the loue of Christ ({quod} she) Made me thy brothers wyfe, right in y^t wyse Anon for myn alye here take I the Sythēs that thou wolte thyn ydoles dispyse Go with thy brother nowe, & the baptyse And make the clene, so y^t thou mayst beholde The angels face, of whiche thy brother tolde.

Tyburce answerd, and said: brother dere Fyrst tel me whyther I shal, & to what ma•• To whom he sayd, come forth w^t good chere I wol the lede vnto the pope Vrban To Vrban brother myne Valeryan ({quod} this Tyburce) wylt thou me thyder lede? Me thynketh that it were a wonder dede

Ne menest thou Not Vrban ({quod} he tho) That is so ofte dampned to be deed And wonneth in halkes to and fro And dare not ones put forthe his heed Men shulde him brenne in a fyre so reed If he were founde, and men might hym spye And we also, that bere him companye

And whyles we seken thylke diuinite That is yhidde in heuen priuely Algate ybrent in this worlde shulde we be To whom Cecile answerde boldely

Men might drede wel and skylfully This lyfe to lese, myne owne dere brother If this were lyuing only and non other

But there is better lyuyng in other place That neuer shal be loste, ne drede the nought which goddes sōne vs told through his grace That fathers sonne hath al thyng wrought And al y^e wrought is with a skilful thought The goste that from the father gan procede Hath souled hym without any drede

By worde and by myracle, lo goddes soune whan he was in this worlde, declared here That there is other lyfe ther men may wōne To whom answerde Tyburce: O suster dere Ne saydest thou right nowe in this manere There nas but one god lord in sothfastnesse And nowe of thre howe may y^u bere witnesse

¶That shal I tel ({quod} she) or that I go Right as a man hath sapyences thre Memorye, engyne, and intellecte also So in suche beyng of diuinite Thre persons may there right wel be Tho gan she there ful besily hym preche Of Christes sonne, and of his paynes teche

And many poyntes of his passyon Howe goddes sonne in thys worlde was witholde To do mankynde playne remyssyon That was bounde in synnes & cares colde Al these thynges she vnto Tyburce tolde And after this Tyburce in good entent with Valeryan to pope Vrban went

That thonked god, & with glad hert & light He christned him, and made him in that place Perfyte in his lernyng goddes knyght And after this Tiburce gate suche grace That euery day he sawe in tyme and space The aungel of god, and euery maner boone That he god asked, it was sped ful soone

¶It were ful harde by order for to sayne How many wonders Iesu for him wrought But at the laste, to tel shorte and playne The sergeaunt of the towne hem sought And hem byfore Almache y^e preuost brought whiche hem aposed, & knewe al her entent And to the ymage of Iupiter hem sent

And sayd, who so wol do no sacrifyce Swappe of his heed, this is my sentēce here Anon these martyrs, that I you deuyse One Maximus that was an officere Of the prefectes, and his councelere Hem hent, & whā he forth the sayntes ladde Hym selfe he wept for pyte that he had

whan Maximus had herde this sayntes lore He gate hem of the turmentours leue And had hem to hys house withouten more And with her prechyng, er that it were eue They gonne from the turmentour reue And from Maximus, & from hys folke echon The false faythe, to trowen in god alone

¶Cecyle came, whan it was woxen nyght with preestes, that hem christened al in fere And afterward, whan day was woxen light Cecile hem sayd with a sober chere Nowe Christes owne knyghtes leue & dere Casteth al away the werkes of derknesse And armeth you in armoure of brightnesse

Ye han for sothe ydone a great batayle Your cours is don, your fayth hath you con∣serued Gothe to y^e crowne of life that may not fayle The rightful iudge, which ye han serued Shal yeue it you as ye it deserued And whan this thing was sayd, as I deuyse Men ladde hem forth to done the sacrifyse

But whā they were vnto the place ibrought To tel shortly the conclusyoun They nold ensence ne sacrifyce right nought But on her knees, they saten hem adoun with humble herte and sadde deuocioun And losten bothe her heedes in the place Her soules went to the kyng of grace.

¶This Maximus, y^t saw this thyng betyde with pytouse teres tolde it anon right That he her soules sawe to heuen glyde with aungels ful of clerenesse and of lyght And with his word cōuerted many a wight For which Almachius dyd hym so to bete with whyppes of leede, tyl he his lyfe gā lete

Cecyle hym toke, and buryed hym anone By Tyburce and Valeryan sothly within her buryeng place vnder a stone

And after this Almachius hastely Bad hys mynisters fetchen openly Cecily, so that she might in his presence Do sacrifyce, and Iupyter encence

But they conuerted at her wyse lore wepten ful sore, and yaue ful credence Vnto her worde, and cryden more and more Christ goddes sonne, without difference Is very god, this is all our sentence That hath a seruaunt so good him to serue Thus w^t o voyce we trow though we sterue

¶Almachius, that herde al this doyng Bad fetche Cecily, that he might her se And alderfyrst this was his askyng what maner woman arte thou ({quod} he) I am a gentylwoman borne ({quod} she) I aske of the ({quod} he) thought it the greue Of thy relygion and of thy byleue?

¶Ye haue bygon your question folishly ({quod} she) that wolde two answers conclude In one demaunde, ye asken leudly Almachius answerde to that symilitude Of whence cōmeth thyn answere so rude Of whence ({quod} she) whā that she was frayned Of conscience, and of good fayth vnfayned.

¶Almachius sayd, ne takest thou none hede Of my power: and she hym answerde thys Your might ({quod} she) ful lytel is to drede For euery mortal mannes power nys But ilyke a bladder ful of wynde iwys For with a nedels poynte, whan it is yblowe May al the bos••e of it be layde ful lowe

Ful wrongfully beganste thou ({quod} he) And yet in wronge is thy perseueraunce woste thou not howe our mighty princes fre Haue thus cōmaunded & made ordinaunce? That euery christen wight shal haue penaūce But yf that he his cristendome withsey And gon al quyte, yf he wol it reney.

¶Your princes erren, as your nobles dothe Quod tho Cecile, in a wode sentence Ye make vs gilty, and it is not sothe For ye that knowen wel our innocence For as moche as we done a reuerence To Christe, and for we bere a christen name Ye put on vs a cryme and eke a blame

But we that knowen thilke name so For vertuous, we may is not withsey. Almachius answerd, chese one of these two Do sacrifyce, or christendom reney That thou may scapen by that wey At which worde the holy blisful mayde Gan for to laught, & to the iuge she sayde.

¶O iugge confused in thy nycete Wolte thou that I renye innocence To make me a wycked wight ({quod} she) Lo he dissymuleth here in audience He stareth and wodeth in his aduertence To whom Almachius sayd: O sely wretch Thou wost not how far me miʒt may stretch

Hath not our mightye princes yeuen To me, bothe power and eke auctorite To make folke to dyen or to lyuen? why spekest thou so proudely than to me? I ne speke it not but stedfastly ({quod} she) Not proudly, for I say as for my syde I hate deedly thilke vyce of pryde

And yf thou drede not a sothe for to here Than wol I shewen al openly by right That thou hast made a ful great lesyng here Thou sayste thy princes han yeue the might Bothe to slee and eke to quicke a wight Thou ne mayest but only lyfe byreue Thou haste non other power ne leue

But thou mayst say, thy princes hā y^e make•• Mynistre of dethe, for yf thou speke of mo Thou lyest, for thy power is ful naked Doway thy boldnesse, sayd Almachius th•• And do sacrifyce to our goddes er thou go I recke not what wronge thou me profice For I can suffre, as can a philosopher

But thilke wronges may I not endure That thou spekest of our goddes here ({quod} he) Cecile answerde, O nyce creature Thou saydest no worde sythens thou spakest to me That I ne knewe therwith thy nycite And that thou were in euery maner wyse A leude offycer, and a vayne iustyce

The lacketh nothyng to thyne vtter eyen That thou nart blynd, for thing y^t we seen al That is a stone, that men may wel espyen

That ylke stone, a god thou wolte it cal I rede the let thyn honde vpon it fal And taste it wel, & stone thou shalte it fynde Sens that thou seest not w^t thyn eyen blynde

It is a shame that the people shal So scorne the, and laugh at thy folye For comenly men wotte it wel ouer al That mighty god is in his heuens hye And these ymages, wel mayste thou aspye To the ne to hem selfe may they not profyte For in her effecte, they be not worthe a myte

¶Thus and suche other wordes sayde she And he woxe wrothe, & bad she shulde be lede Home to her house, and in her house ({quod} he) Brenne her in a bathe, with flames rede And as he bade, right so was done the dede For in a bathe they gan her faste sheten And nyght & day great fyre vnder they beten

Al the longe night, and eke the day also For al the fyre, and eke the bathes hete She sate al colde, and felte of it no wo It made her not a droppe for to swete But in that bathe her lyfe she mote lete For Almachie, with a ful wicked entent To sleen her in the bathe, hys sonde sente

Thre strokes in the necke he smote her tho The turmentour, but for no maner chaunce He might not smyte al her necke a two And for there was that tyme an ordynaunce That no mā shuld do no person such penaūce The fourth stroke to smyte, softe or sore This turmentour durste smyte no more

But halfe deed, with her necke ycoruē there He lette her lye, and on his way he went The christen folke that aboute her were with shetes home ful fayre her hente Thre dayes lyued she in this turmente And neuer cesed she the faythe to teche That she had fostred hem, she gan to preche

And hem she yaue her mouables & her thyng And to the pope Vrban bytoke hem tho And sayd, I asked this of the heuen kyng To haue respyte thre dayes and no mo To recōmaunde to you, er that I go These soules, and that I might so werche Here of myne house perpetuellyche a cherche

Saynt Vrban, with his dekens priuely The body fette, and buryed it by night Amonge his other sayntes honestly Her house the churche of saynt Cecile hyght Saynte Vrban halowed it, as he wel might In which vnto this day in noble wyse Men don to Christ & to his sayntes seruyce.

¶Here endeth the seconde nonnes tale, and here begynneth the Prologue of the cha∣nons yeman.

WHā ended was the lyfe of saynt Cecyle Er we fully had rydden fyue myle At Boughton vnder the blee, vs gan a take A man, that clothed was in clothes blake And vnder that he had a whyte surplyse His hakeney, that was al pomely gryse So swette, that it wonder was to se It semed that he had pricked myles thre The horse eke that his yoman rode vpon So swette, that vnneth might he gon Aboute the paytrel stode the fome ful hye He was of fome as flecked as a pye A male twyfolde on his croper lay It semed that he caryed lytel aray Al lyght for sommer rode this worthy man And in my herte wondren I began what that he was, tyl I vnderstode Howe that his cloke was sewed to his hode For which, whan I had longe auysed me I demyd him some chanon for to be His hatte hynge at his backe by alace For he had rydden more than trot or pace He rode aye prickyng as he were wode A clote lefe he had layde vnder hys hode For swette, and for to kepe his heed fro hete But it was inye for to se hym swete His forheed dropped, as a styllatorie were ful of plantayne or of peritorie And whan he was come, he gan crye God saue ({quod} he) this ioly companye Faste haue I pricked ({quod} he) for your sake Bycause that I wolde you ouertake To ryden in this mery company ¶His yoman was eke ful of curtesye And sayd syrs, nowe in the morowe tyde

Out of your hostery I sawe you ryde And warned here my lorde and souerayne whiche that to ryden with you is ful fayne For his disporte, he loueth dalyaunce. Frēde for thy warnīg god yeue y^e good chāce Than sayd our host, certayne it wolde seme Thy lorde were wyse, & so I may wel deme He is ful soconde also dare I lay Can he ought tel a mery tale or tway with which he glade may this companye. ¶Who syr my lorde? ye without lye He can of myrthe and eke of iolyte Not but ynough also syr trusteth me And ye hym knewe also wel as do I Ye wolde wonder howe wel and thriftely He couthe werke, and that in sondrie wyse He hath taken on him many a great emprise which were ful harde, for any that is here To bring aboute, but they of him it lere As homely as he rydeth amonge you If ye him knewe, it wold ben for your prowe Ye nolde not forgon his aquayntaunce For mochel good I dare lay in balaunce Al that I haue in my possessyon He is a man of hye discressyon I warne you wel he is a passyng wyse man. ¶Wel ({quod} our hoste) I pray the tel me than Is he a clerke or non tel what he is. ¶A clerke, nay he is greter thā a clerke iwys Sayd the yoman, and in wordes fewe Hoste of his crafte somwhat wol I shewe I say my lorde can suche a subtelte But al his crafte ye may not wete of me And somwhat helpe I yet to his worchyng That al the grounde that we be on rydyng Tyl we come to Caunterbury towne He coulde al clene turne vp and downe And paue it al of syluer and of golde. ¶And whan this yoman had thus ytolde Vnto our hoste: he sayd benedicite This thyng is wonder meruaylous to me Sens that thy lorde is of so hye prudence (Bycause of which, men shuld hym reuerēce) That of his worshyp recketh he so lyte His ouerest sloppe is not worthe a my••e As in effecte to hym, so more I go It is al bandy and to tore also why is thy lorde so slotlyche I the pray And is of power better clothes to bey? If that his dede acorde with thy speche Tel me that, and that I the beseche. ¶Why ({quod} this yeman) wherto aske ye me? God helpe me so, for he shal neuer ythe But I wol not auowe that I saye And therfore kepe it secret I you praye He is to wyse in fay, as I beleue That is ouerdone nyl not preue And right as clerkes sayne, it is a vyce wherfore I holde hym in that, leude & ny•••• For whan a man hath ouer great a wytte Ful ofte it happeth hym to misusen it So dothe my lorde, and that me greueth sore God amende it, I can say you no more. ¶Therof no force good yeman ({quod} our host) Sens of the connyng of thy lorde thou wost Tel howe he dothe, I pray the hertely Sens that he is so crafty and so sly where dwellen ye, yf it to tel be? ¶In the subbarbes of a towne ({quod} he) Lurkyng in corners and in lanes blinde where these robbers, and theues by kynde Holden her priuy fearful resydence As they that dare not shewen her presence So fare we, yf that I shal say the soth. ¶Yet ({quod} our hoste) let me talke tothe why arte thou so discoloured in thy face? ¶Peter ({quod} he) god yeue it harde grace I am so vsed in the hotte fyre to blowe That it hath chaūged my colour as I trowe I am not wonte in no myrrour to prie But swynke sore, and lerne to multiplye we blondren euer, and pooren in the fyre And for al that, we faylen of our desyre For euer we lacken our conclusyon To moche folke we do illusyon And borowe golde, be it a pounde or two Or ten or twelue, or many sommes mo And make hem wene at the leste way That of a pounde we coulde make tway Yet is it false, and aye han we good hope It for to done, and after it we grope But that science is so ferre vs byforne we mowe not, al though we had it sworne It ouertake, it slytte away so fast It wol vs make beggers at the laste. ¶whiles this yeman was thus ī his talkyng This chanon drewe him nere, & herd al thing which this yeman spake, for suspection Of mennes speche euer had this chanon For Cato saythe, he that gyltye is Demeth al thing be spoke of hym iwys Bycause of that, ge gan so nyghe to drawe To his yeman, to herken al his sawe And thus he sayd vnto his yeman tho

Holde now thy peace, & speke no wordes mo For yf thou do, thou shalt it sore abye Thou slaūdrest me here in thys companye And eke dyscouerest y^t thou shuldest hyde. ¶Ye ({quod} our host) tel on what so euer betyde. Of al hys threatyng, recke the not a myte ¶In fayth ({quod} he) no more do I but lyte And when thys chanon sawe it wolde not be But hys yeman wolde tel hys priuite He fled away for very sorowe and shame A ({quod} the yeman) here shal ryse a game Al that I can, anone wol I you tel Sens he is gone, the foule fende hym quel For neuer here after wol I wyth hym mete For peny ne for pounde, I you behete He that me brought fyrst vnto that game Er that he dye, sorowe haue he and shame For it is ernest to me by my fayth That fele I wel, what so any man sayeth And yet for al my smerte and al my grefe For al my sorowe, laboure and myschefe I couth neuer leaue it in no wyse Nowe wolde god my wytte myght suffyce To tellen al that longeth to that arte But nathelesse, yet wol I tel you a parte Sens that my lord is gone, I wol not spare Suche thynge as I knowe I wol declare.

¶Here endeth the prologue of the chanons yeman, and here fo∣loweth hys tale.

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WIth thys chanon I dwelt seuen yere And of hys science am I neuer the nere All that I had, I haue lost therby And god wote, so hath many mo then I There I was wonte to be ryght fresh & gay Of clothynge, and eke of other good aray Nowe may I weare an hose vpon my heed And wher my colour was both freshe & reed Nowe it is wanne, and of a leeden hewe who so it vseth, sore shal hym rewe And of my swynke, yet blered is myne eye Lo whych auauntage it is to multiplye That slydynge science hath me made so bare That I haue no good, where y^t euer I fare And yet I am endetted so therby Of golde, that I haue borowed trewly That whyle I lyue, I shal it quyte neuer Let euery man beware by me euer what maner man that casteth hym therto Yf he continue, I holde hys thryfte ydo So helpe me god therby shal he neuer wyn But empte his purse, & make his wittes thyn

And when he thorow hys madnesse and foly Hath lost hys owne good, through ieopardy Then he excyteth other men therto To lese her good, as hym selfe hath do For vnto shrewes, ioye it is and ese To haue her felowes in payne and dysese For thus was I ones lerned of a clerke Of y^t no charge, I wol speake of our werke ¶when we be there, as we shal exercyse Our eluysh crafte, we semen wonder wyse Our termes ben so clergial and so quaynte I blowe the fyre tyl myne herte faynte. ¶what shulde I tel eche proporcion Of thynges, whych we werchen vpon? As on fyue or syxe vnces, maye wel be Of syluer, or of some other quantite And besye me to tellen you the names Of orpyment, brent bones, yron squames That into poudre grounden ben ful small And in an erthen potte, howe put is all And salt yput in, and also papere Byfore these poudres that I speake of here And wel ycouered wyth a lampe of glas And of moche other thynge that there was And of the pottes and glas englutynge That of the ayre myght passe out no thynge And of the esy fyre and smerte also whych that was made, and of the care & wo That we had in our matters sublymynge And in amalgamyng, and calsenynge Of quycsyluer, yclypped Mercurye crude For al our sleyght, we conne not conclude Our orpyment, and sublymed Mercurye Our grounde lytarge eke on the porphirye Of eche of these, vnces a certayne Not helpeth vs, our labour is in vayne Ne eke our spirites assencioun Ne yet our matters, that lyen al syre adoun Mowe in our werkynge nothynge auayle For loste is al our laboure & our trauayle And al the coste, a twenty dyuel waye Is loste also, whych we vpon it laye. ¶There is also ful many an other thynge That is to our crafte apertaynynge Though I by ordre hem ne reherce can Bycause that I am a leude man Yet wol I tellen hem, as they come to minde Though I ne can sette hem in her kynde As bole Armonyake, verdegrece, boras And sondry vessels made of erth and glas Our vrinals, and our dyscensories Vyols, crosselettes, and sublymatoryes Concurbytes, and alembykes eke And other suche, dere ynough a leke It nedeth not to reherce hem al waters rubyfyeng, and boles gal Arsneke, sal armoniake, and brymstone And herbes coulde I tel eke many one As Egrimonye, valerian, and lunarye And other suche, yf that me lyst to tarye Our lampes brennyng both nyght and daye To bryngē aboute our craft, yf that we maye Our fournyce eke of calcinacion And of waters albifycation Vnsleked lyme, chalke, and gleyre of an eye Poudres dyuers, ashes, donge, pysse, & cley Sered pokettes, salt peter, and vytriole And dyuers fyres, made of woode and cole Sal tartre, alcaly, and sal preparate And combust maters, and coagulate Cley made w^t horse dūge, mans heere, & oyle Of tartre al••n, glas, berme, worte, & argo•••• Resalgor, and other maters enbybynge And eke of our maters encorporynge And of our syluer cytrination Our sementynge, and eke fermentacion Our Ingottes testes, and many mo I wol you tel as was me taught also The foure spirites, and the bodyes seuen By order, as ofte I herde my lorde nemene. ¶The fyrst spirite quycke syluer cleped is The seconde orpyment, the thyrde ywys Sal armonyake, the fourth brymstone ¶The bodyes seuen eke, lo here hem anone Sol golde is, and Luna syluer we threpe Mars yron, Mercurye quycksyluer we clepe Saturnus leede, and Iupiter is tynne And Venus coper, by my father kynne ¶Thys cursed crafte, who so wol exercyse He shal no good haue that may hym suffyse For al the good he spendeth theraboute He lese shal, therof haue I no doute who so that lysten to vtter hys folye Let hym come forth & lerne to multiplye And euery man that hath aught in hys cofer Let hym apere, and were a philosopher Askaunce that crafte is so lyght for to lere Nay nay god wote, al be he monke or frere Preest or chanon, or any other wyght Though he syt at his boke both day & nyght In lernynge of thys eluyshe nyce lore Al is in vayne, and parde moche more Is to lere a leude man thys subtelte Fye speake not therof, it wol not be

Al coulde he lettrure, or coulde he none As in effecte, he shal fynde it al one For both two, by my saluacion Concluden in multiplicacion I lyche wel, when they haue al ydo Thys is to sayne, they faylen both two. ¶Yet forgate I moche rehersayle Of waters corosyfe, and of lymayle And of bodyes mollifycacion And also of her induracion Oyles, ablucions, metal fusyble To tellen you al, wolde passe any byble That o where is, wherfore as for the beste Of al these names nowe wol I reste For as I trowe, I haue you tolde ynowe To reyse a fende, al loke he neuer so rowe. ¶A nay let be the phylosophers stone Alixer cleped, we seken faste echeone For had we him, thē were we syker ynowe But vnto god of heuen I make auowe For al our crafte, when that we han al ydo And al our sleyght, he wol not come vs to He hath made vs spende moche good For sorow of which, almost we waxē wood But that good hope crepeth in our herte Supposynge euer, though we sore smerte To ben releued by hym afterwarde Supposynge and hope is sharpe and harde I warne you wel it is to syken euer That future temps hath made men dysceuer In trust therof, all that euer they had Yet of that arte, they coulde not waxe sad For vnto hym it is a bytter swete So semed it, for ne had they but a shete Which y^t they myght wrappē thē in anyght And a bratte to walken in the daye lyght They wolden hem sel, & spēde it on this craft They conne not stynte tyl nothynge be laft And euer more, where that euer they gone Men may hem ken by smel of brymstone For al the worlde they stynken as a gote Her sauour is so rammysh & so hote That though a man a myle from hem be The sauour wol enfecte hym trusteth me Lo, thus by smellyng, & by thred bare aray Yf that men lyst, thys folke knowe they may And yf a man wol aske hem priuely why they be clothed so vnthryftely Ryght anone they wol rowne in hys ere And sayne, yf that they aspyed were Men wolde hem slee, bycause of her science Lo thus these folke bytrayen innocence Passe ouer thys, I go my tale vnto. ¶Er that the potte be on the fyre ydo Of metalles, wyth a certayne quantyte My lorde hem tempreth, & no man but he Nowe he is gone, I dare saye boldely For as men sayne, he can do craftely Algate I wotte wel he hath suche a name And yet ful ofte he renneth in the blame And wote ye howe, ful ofte it happeth so The potte to breketh, and farewel al is go These metalles ben of so great violence Our walles may not make hem resystence But yf they were wrought of lime and stone They percen so, & through the wal they gone And some of hem synken in to the grounde Thus haue we lost by tymes many a poūde And some are scatered al the floore aboute Some lepen into the rofe wythouten doute Tho y^t the fende not in our syght hym shewe I trowe that he with vs be, that ylke shrewe In hel where that he is lorde and syre Ne is there no more wo, ne angre ne yre when that our potte is broke, as I haue sayd Euery man chyte, & holte hym yuel apayde Some sayd it was longe of the fyre makyng Some sayd nay, it was on the blowyng Then was I ferde, for that was myn offyce ¶Strawe ({quod} the thyrde) ye ben leude & nyce It was not tempred as it ought to be ¶Nay ({quod} the fourth) stynte & herken me Bycause our fyre was not made of beche That is the cause, and none other so theche I can not tel wheron it is alonge But wel I wote great stryfe is vs amonge. what ({quod} my lord) ther nys no more to done Of these perylles I wol beware efte sone I am ryght syker, that the potte was crased Be as be maye, be ye not amased As vsage is, let swepe the floore as swythe Plucke vp your hert, and be glad and blythe. The mullocke on an heape yswepte was And on the floore caste a canuas And al thys mulloke in a syue ythrowe And ysyfted and aplucked many a throwe. Parde ({quod} one) somwhat of our metall Yet is there here, though we haue not all And tho this thyng mishapped hath as now An other tyme it may ben wel ynow we more put our good in auenture A marchaunt parde, maye not aye endure Trusteth me wel in hys prosperite Somtyme hys good is drowned in the see

And somtyme it cometh safe vnto the londe Peace ({quod} my lord) y^e next tyme I wol fonde To brynge our crafte al in an other plyte And but I do syrs, let me haue the wyte There was defaute in somwhat wel I wote ¶An other sayd, the fyre was ouer hote But be it hote or colde, I dare saye this That we concluden euer more amys we faylen of that whych we wolde haue And in our madnesse euer more we raue And when we be together euerychon Euery man semeth as wyse as Salomon But al thyng, whych that shyneth as y^e golde Is not golde, as I haue herde tolde Ne euery appel that is fayre at eye Nys not good, what so men clappe or crye. ¶Ryght so it fareth amonge vs He that semeth the wysest by Iesus Is moost foole, when it cometh to the prefe And he that semeth truest is a thefe That shal ye know, er that I from you wēde By that I of my tale haue made an ende. ¶There was a chanon of religioun Amonges vs, wolde enfecte al a toun Though it as great were as Niniue Rome, Alysaundre, Troye, and other thre Hys sleyght and hys infinite falsnesse There couth no man wryten as I gesse Though that he might lyue a thousand yere In al thys worlde of falsnesse nys hys pere For in hys termes he wol hym so wynde And speake hys wordes in so slye a kynde when he comen shal wyth any wyght That he wol make hym dote anone ryght But it a fende be as hym selfe is Ful many a man hath he begyled er thys And mo wol, yf that he may lyue a whyle And yet men ryden & gone ful many a myle Hym for to seke, and haue aquayntaunce Not knowynge of hys false gouernaunce And yf ye lust to gyue me audience I wol it tellen here in your presence. ¶But worshypful chanons religiouse Ne demeth not that I sclaunder your house Al though my tale of a chanon be Of euery ordre some shrewe is parde And god forbyd that al a companye Shulde rue a syngler mannes folye To slaunder you is not myne entente But to correcte that mysse is mente Thys tale was not only tolde for you But eke for other mo, ye wote wel howe That amonge Christes apostles twelue Ther was no traytour but Iudas hym selue Then why shulde the remnaūt haue blame That gyltlesse were, by you I saye the same Saue only thys, yf ye wol herken me Yf any Iudas in your couent be Remeueth hym betyme, I you rede Yf shame or losse may causen any drede And be nothynge dyspleased I you praye But in thys case herkeneth what I saye.

In Londen was a preest annuellere That therin had dwelt many a yere whych was so pleasaunt and so seruysable Vnto the wyfe, where he was at table That she wolde suffre hym nothynge to pay For borde ne clothyng, went he neuer so gay And spendynge syluer had he ryght ynowe Therof no force, I wol procede as nowe And tel forth my tale of the chanon That brought thys preest to confusyon. ¶Thys false chanon came vpon a daye Vnto thys preestes chambre, where he laye Besechynge hym to leue hym a certayne Of golde, and he wolde quyte hym ayen Leueth me a marke ({quod} he) but dayes thre And at my daye I wol quyte it the And yf it so be, chat thou fynde me false Another daye hange me by the halfe This prest toke him a marke & that swyth And thys chanon hym thanked ofte syth And toke hys leaue, and went forth hys wey And at thyrde daye brought hys money And to thys preest he toke thys golde acyen wherof thys preest was glad and fayn ¶Certes ({quod} he) nothynge anoyeth me To leue a man a noble, two or thre Or what thynge were in my possession when he so trewe is of condicion That in no wyse he breke wol hys daye To suche a man I can neuer saye naye. what {quod} this chanon, shulde I be vntrewe Nay, that were thynge fallen of newe Trouth is a thynge that I wol euer kepe Vnto the daye, in whych I shal crepe Into my graue, or els god forbede Beleueth thys as syker as your crede God thanke I, & in good tyme be it sayde That there nas neuer man yet yuel apayde For golde ne syluer that he to me lent Ne neuer falshede in myne herte I ment. And syr ({quod} he) nowe of my priuete

Sens ye so goodlyche haue ben to me And kythe to me so great gentylnesse Somwhat to quyte with your kyndenesse I wol you shewe, yf ye wol it lere (I shal it shewe to you anon right here) Howe I can werche in philosophye Taketh good hede, ye shal it se with your eye That I wol done a maistrye or I go. ¶Ye syr ({quod} the preest) and wol ye so Marye therof I pray you hertely. ¶At your cōmaundement ser truely ({quod} the chanon) and els god forbede Lo howe this thefe couthe his seruyce bede Ful sothe is that suche profered seruyse Stynketh, as wytnesseth the olde wyse And that ful sone I wol it verifye In this chanon, rote of al trecherie That euermore delyte hath and gladnesse Such fendely thoughtes in his hert empresse How christes people he may to mischefe bring God kepe vs from his false dissymulyng. ¶what wyst thys preest w^t whom y^t he delte Ne of hys harme cōmyng nothyng he felte O sely preest, O sely innocente with couetyse anon thou shalte be blente O gracelesse, ful blynde is thy conceyte Nothyng arte thou ware of hys disceyte Which that this foxe hath shapen to the His wylye wrenches thou mayste not fle Wherfore to go to the conclusyon That referreth to thy confusyon Vnhappy man, anon I wol me hye To tel thyne vnwytte ne thy folye And eke the falsnesse of that other wretche As ferforthe as my connyng wol stretche ¶This chanon was my lord ye wolde wene Syr host in faythe, and by the heuen quene It was another chanon, and not he? That can an hundred folde more subtelte He hath betrayed folke many a tyme Of his falsnesse it doleth me to ryme Euer whan I speke of hys falseheed For shame of hym, my chekes waxen reed Algates they begynnen for to glowe For rednesse haue I non, right wel I knowe In my visage, for sumes dyuerce Of metals, whiche ye haue herde me reherce Consumed and wasted hath my rednesse Nowe take hede of this chanons cursydnesse. Syr ({quod} he) to the preest, let your man gon For quick syluer, that we it had anon And let hym brynge vnces two or thre And whan he cōmeth, as faste shul ye se A wonder thyng, which ye saw neuer er this Syr ({quod} the preest) it shal be done iwys He badde his seruaunt fetch him this thyng And he al redy was at hys byddyng And went him forth, and came anon agayne with this quicksyluer, shortly for to sayne And toke these vnces thre to the chanoun And he hem layde wel and fayre adoun And bade the seruaunt coles for to bryng That he anon might go to hys werkyng ¶The coles right anon were yfet And this chanon toke out a crosselet Of his bosome, and shewed it to the preest This instrument ({quod} he) which that thou seest Take in thy honde, and put thy selfe therin Of this quicksyluer an vnce and begyn In the name of Christ to wexe a philosopher There be ful fewe, whiche I wolde it profer To shewe hem this moche of my science For here shul ye se by experience That this quicksyluer I wol mortifye Right in your syght anon withouten lye And make it as good syluer and as fyne As there is any in your purse or myne Or els where, and make it malliable And els holde me false and vnstable Amonges folke euer to appere. ¶I haue a poudre, that coste me dere Shal make al good, for it is cause of al My connyng, whiche I you shewe shal Voydeth your man, and let him be therout And shette the dore, whyles we ben aboute Our priuetie, that no man vs espye whyles that we werken in our philosophye Al as he bade, fulfylled was in dede This ylke seruaunt anon out yede And hys maister shette the dore anon And to her labour spedily they gon This preest at this cursed chanons byddyng Vpon the fyre anon set this thyng And blewe the fyre, & besyed hym ful faste And this chanon into this croslet caste A pouder, I not wherof it was Ymade, eyther of chalke, erthe, or glasse Or somwhat els, was not worthe a flye To blynde with this preest, & badde hym hye These coles for to couchen al aboue The crosselet, for in token that I the loue (Quod this chanon) thyne hondes two Shal werke al thyng that here shal be do. Graunt mercy, {quod} the preest, & was ful glad

And couched coles, as the chanon bad And whyle he busy was, thys fēdely wretch Thys false chanon, the foule fende him fetch Out of hys bosome toke a bechen cole In whych ful subtelly was made an hole And therin was put of syluer limayle An vnce, and stopped was wythout fayle The hole wyth waxe, to kepe the limayle in And vnderstandeth that thys false gyn was not made there, but it was made before And other thynges that I shal you tel more Hereafter, whych that he wyth him brought Er he came there, to begyle hym he thought And so he dyd, er they wente a twynne Tyl he had turned hym, could he not blynne It dulleth me, when that I of hym speke On hys falshede, fayne wolde I me wreke Yf I wyst howe, but he is here and there He is so variaunt, he hydeth no where ¶But taketh hede syrs now for goddes loue He toke hys cole, of whych I spake aboue And in hys hande he bare it priuely And whyles the preest couched besely The coles, as I tolde you er thys Thys chanon sayd, frende ye doue amys Thys is not couched as it ought to be But sone I shal amende it ({quod} he) Nowe let me medle therwyth but a whyle For of you haue I pyte by saynt Gyle Ye ben ryght hotte, I se wel howe ye swete Haue here a cloth and wype awaye the wete And whyle the preest hym wyped hace This chanon toke the cole, I shrewe his face And layde it abouen vpon the mydwarde Of the croslet, and blewe well afterwarde Tyl that the coles gonne faste brenne ¶Nowe yeue vs drynke, {quod} thys chanō then As swyth al shall be wel I vndertake Sytte we downe, and let vs mery make And when thys chanons bechen cole was brent al, the limayle out of the hole Into the crosselette anone fel adoun And so it muste nedes by resoun Sens it so euen aboue couched was But therof wyst the preest nothynge, alas He demed al the coles lyche goode For of the sleyght, nothynge he vnderstode. And whē thys alkamystre sawe his tyme Ryseth vp syr preest ({quod} he) & standeth by me And for I wote wel yngot haue I none Goth walketh forth, & brynge a chalke stone For I wol make it of the same shappe That an yngot is, yf I maye haue happe And brynge eke wyth you a bolle or a panne Ful of water, and ye shal se thanne Howe that our busynesse shal happe & preue And yet for ye shal haue no mysbeleue Ne wronge conceyte of me in your absence I wol not ben out of your presence But go wyth you, & come wyth you agayne The chambre dore, shortly to sayne They opened & shette, & went forth her wey And forth wyth hem they caryed the key And comen ayen wythouten any delaye what shulde I tarye al the longe daye He toke the chalke, and shope it in the wyse Of an yngot, as I shal you deuyse I saye he toke out of hys owne sleue A teyne of syluer, yuel mote he cheue whych that was but an vnce of weyght And taketh hede nowe of hys cursed sleyght He shope hys yngot, in lenght and in brede Of the teyne, wythouten any drede So slyly that the preest it not aspyde And in hys sleue agayne he gan it hyde And from the fyre toke vp hys matere And in to the yngot it put wyth mery chere And into the water vessel he it caste when that hym lyst, & bad the preest as faste Loke what ther is, put in thyn hāde & grope Thou shalt fynde there syluer as I hope what dyuel of hel shulde it els be Shauynge of syluer, syluer is parde. He put in hys hande, and toke vp a reyne Of syluer fyne, and glade in euery vayne was thys preest, when he sawe it was so Goddes blyssynge and hys mothers also And al hallowes, haue ye syr chanon Sayd thys preest, and I her malyson But and ye vouchsafe to teche me Thys noble crafte and thys subtelte I wol be yours, in al that euer I may {quod} the Chanon, yet wol I make assay The seconde tyme, that ye mowe take hede And ben expert of thys, and in your nede Another daye assay in myne absence Thys dysciplyne, and thys crafty science Lette take another ounce ({quod} he) tho Of quycke syluer, wythouten wordes mo And done therwyth, as I haue done er thys wyth that other, whych that nowe syluer is. ¶Thys preest hym besyeth in al that he can To done as thys Chanon, thys cursed man Commaunded hym, and faste blewe the fyre

For to come to the effecte of his desyre And this chanon, right in the mean while Al redy was, this preest efte to begyle And for a countynaunce in his honde bare An holowe sticke, take kepe and beware In thende of which an vnce and no more Of syluer lymaile putte was al before was in his cole, and stopped with wexe wele For to kepen in his lymaile euery dele And whiles this peest was in his besynesse This chanon with his sticke gan him dresse To hym anon, and his pouder cast in As he dyd erst, the deuyl out of hys skyn Him torne, I praye to god for his falshede For he was euer false in thought and dede And with his sticke, aboue the crosselette That was ordayned with that false iette He styrreth the coles, tyl al relent gan The waxe agayne the fyre, as euery man But he a fole be, wot wel it mote nede And al that in the hole was, out yede And into the crosselet hastely it fel The preest supposed nothynge but wel But besyed hym faste, & was wonder fayne Supposyng nought but trouth, soth to sayn He was so glad, that I can nat expresse In no manere hys myrthe and his gladnesse And to the chanon he profered efte sone Body and good: ye ({quod} the chanon) anone Tho I be poore, crafty thou shalt me fynde I warne the yet is there more behynde Is there any coper here within sayd he? ¶Ye syr ({quod} the preest) I trowe there by. Els go bye some, and that aswythe Nowe good syr go forth thy way & hythe. ¶He went his way, & with y^e coper he came And this Chanon in his honde it name And of that coper wayed out but an vnce Al to symple is my tonge to pronounce As to minystre of my wytte the doublenesse Of this chanon, rote of al cursydnesse He semed frēdly, to hem y^t knew him nought But he was fendly, both in werke & thought It weryeth me to tel of hys falsenesse And nathelesse, yet wol I it expresse To the entent that men may beware therby And for none other cause truely. ¶He put this vnce of coper into the crosselet And on the fyre as swythe he hath it sette And cast in pouder, & made y^e preest to blowe And in his workyng for to stoupe lowe As he dyd erste, and al nas but a iape Ryght as hym lyst, y^e preest he made hys ape And afterwarde in the yngot he it caste And in the panne put it at the laste Of water, and in he put hys owne honde And in hys sleue, as ye beforehonde Herde me tel, he had a syluer teyne He slily toke it out, thys cursed heyne Vnwetynge thys preest of hys false crafte And in the pannes botome he hath it lafte And in the water rombleth to and fro And wonder priuely toke vp also The coper teyne, not knowynge thys preest And hyd it, and hent hym by the brest And to hym spake, & thus sayd in hys game Stoupeth adowne, by god ye be to blame Helpeth me nowe, as I dyd you wylere Put in your honde, and loketh what is there ¶This preest toke vp this syluer teyne anon And then sayd the chanon, let vs gon with these thre teines, which we han wrouʒt To some goldsmyth, and wete yf it be ought For by my fayth, I nolde for my hoode But yf it were syluer fyne and good And that as swyth proued shalbe. ¶Vnto y^e goldsmyth, with these teynes thre They went, and put them in assaye So fyre and hāmer, might no man say naye But they were as them ought for to be. This sotted prest, who was gladder thē he was neuer byrde gladder ayenst the day Ne nyghtyngale, ayenst the ceson of May was neuer none, that lyste better to synge Ne lady lustyer in carollynge And for to speake of loue and womanhede Ne knyght in armes, to don a hardy dede To standen in grace of hys lady dere Then had thys preest, thys crafte to lere And to the chanon, thus he spake, and sayd For the loue of God, that for vs al deyd And as I may deserue it vnto you what shal this receit cost, telleth me nowe? ¶By our lady ({quod} thys chanon) it is dere I warne you wel, saue I and a frere In Englande, there can no man it make. No force ({quod} he) nowe syr for goddes sake what shall I paye, tel me I you praye. I wys ({quod} he) it is ful dere I saye Syr at one worde yf that ye lyst it haue Ye shal pay fourty pounde, so god me saue And nere the frendshyp that ye dyd er thys To me, ye shulde paye more ywys. ¶This preest y^e sūme of fourty poūde anone

Of nobles fette, and tolde hem euerychone To thys chanon, for thys ylke receyte Al hys worchynge was fraude and dysceyte Sir prest he said, I kepe for to haue no loos Of my crafte, for I wolde it were kept cloos And as ye loue me, kepeth it secre For and men knowe al my subtelte By god men wolde haue so great enuye To me, bycause of my philosophye I shulde be deed, there were none other way ¶God it forbyd ({quod} the preest) what ye say Yet had I leuer spende al the good whych that I haue, and els waxe I wood Then that ye shulde fallen in suche myschefe For your good wyl haue ye ryght good prefe ({quod} the chanon) and farewel graunt mercy He went hys way, & neuer the preest hym sey After that day: & when that thys prest sholde Maken assay, at such tyme as he wolde Of thys receyte, farewel it nolde not be Lo thus be iaped and begyled was he Thus maketh he hys introduction To brynge folke to her destruction. Consydereth syrs, howe in eche estate Betwyxt men and golde is debate So ferforth, that vnnethes there is none Thys moultiplyenge blyndeth so many one That in good fayth, I trowe that it be The greatest cause of suche scarsite These phylosophers speaken so mystely In this craft, that men can not come therby For any wytte that men haue now a dayes They may wel chattre & iāgle as do y^e iayes And in her termes, set her luste and payne But to her purpose shul they neuer attayne A man may lyghtly lerne, yf he haue ought To multiplye, & brynge hys good to nought Lo, suche a lucre is in thys lusty game A mans myrth it wol turne al to grame And empten also great and heuy purses And maken folke to purchase curses Of hem that han also her good ylente O fye for shame, they that han be brente Alas, can not they flye the fyres hete Ye that it vsen, I rede that ye it lete Lest y^t ye lesen al, for better thē neuer is late Neuer to thryue, were to longe a date Though y^t ye prolle aye, ye shal it neuer fynd Ye ben as bolde as is bayarde the blynd That blōdereth forth, & peryl casteth he none He is as bolde to renne ayenst a stone As for to go besyde in the waye So faren ye, that multiplyen I saye Yf that your eyen can not sene aryght Loketh that your mynde lacke not his syght For though ye loke neuer so brode & stare Ye shal not wynne a myte in that chaffare But wast al that ye may repe and renne wythdrawe the fyre, leste it to fast brenne Medleth wyth that arte no more I mene For yf ye done, your thryfte is gone ful clene And ryght as swyth I wol you tellen here what y^t the philosophers sayn in this matere ¶Lo thus sayeth Arnolde of the new toun As hys rosarye maketh mencioun He sayeth ryght thus, wythouten any lye There may no man Mercurye mortifye But yf it be wyth hys brothers knowlegyng Lo howe y^t he, whych fyrst sayde thys thyng Of philosophers father was, Hermes He sayeth howe the dragon doutles Ne dyeth not, but yf he be slayne wyth hys brother: And thys is for to sayne By the dragon Mercurye, and none other He vnderstode y^t brimstone was his brother That out of Sol and Luna were ydrawe And therfore sayd he, take hede to my sawe Let no mā busye hym this arte for to seche But he that the entencion and speche Of philosophers vnderstande can And yf he do, he is a lende man For thys science, and thys connyng ({quod} he) Is of the secre of the secres parde. ¶Also there was a dysciple of Plato That on a tyme sayd hys mayster to As hys boke Semor wol bere wytnesse And thys was hys demaūde in sothfastnesse Tel me the name of the preuy stone ¶And Plato answered vnto hym anone Take the stone that Tytanos men name. ¶whych is y^e ({quod} he) Magnatia is the same Sayd Plato: yea syr and is it thus? Thys is ignotum per ignotius what is Magnatia, good syr I you pray. ¶It is a water that is made I say Of elementes foure (quod Plato) ¶Tel me the roche good syr ({quod} he tho) Of that water, yf it be your wyl. Nay nay ({quod} Plato) certayne that I nyll The philosophers were ysworne echone That they shulde dyscouer it vnto none Ne in no boke it wryte in no manere For vnto Christ it is so lefe and dere That he wol not that it dyscouered be

But where it lyketh to hys deite Man to enspyre and eke for to defende when that hym lyketh, lo thys is his ende ¶Then conclude I thus, sens y^e god of heuē Ne wyl not that the phylosophers nemen Howe that a mā shal come vnto thys stone I rede as for the best, let it gone For who so maketh god hys aduersarye As for to werch any thynge in contrarye Vnto hys wyl, certes neuer shal he thriue Though that he multiplye terme of his lyue And there a poynte, for ended is my tale God sende euery true man bote of hys bale.

¶Here endeth the tale of the chanons yeman, a no here foloweth the doctour of phisykes prologue.

When thys yeman hys tale ended had Of thys false chanon, whych was so bad Our hoste gan saye, truely and certayne Thys preest was begyled, sothe for to sayne He wenynge for to be a philosopher Tyl he ryght no golde lefte in hys cofer And sothly thys preest had alther iape Thys cursed chanon put in hys hode an ape But al thys passe I ouer as now Syr doctour of phisyke, yet I pray you Tel vs a tale of some honeste matere It shalbe done, yf that ye wol it here Sayd thys doctour, & hys tale began anone Now good mē ({quod} he) herkeneth euerychone.

¶Here endeth the doctour of phi∣sykes prologue, and here be∣gynneth hys tale.

[illustration]

THere was, as telleth vs Ty∣tus Liuius A knyght, that clypped was Virginius Fulfylled of honour and of worthynesse And stronge of frendes, and of rychesse A doughter he had by hys wyfe And neuer had he mo in al hys lyfe Fayre was thys mayde in excellent beaute Abouen euery wyght that man may se For nature hath, wyth souerayne diligence Formed her in so great excellence As though she wolde say, lo I nature Thus can I forme and paynt a creature when that me lyste, who can me counterfete Pigmaliō not, though he alway forge & bete Or graue or paynte, for I dare wel sayne Appelles, or zeusis, shulde werche in vayne To graue or paynte, or forge or bete Yf they presumed me to counterfete For he that is the former principall Hath made me hys vycar generall

To fourme and paynte erthely creaturis Right as me lyste, for al thyng in my cure is Vnder the moone, that may wane and waxe And for my werke, nothyng wol I axe My lorde and I ben fully of a corde I made her to the worshyp of my lorde So do I al myne other creatures Of what coloure they be, or of what fygures Thus semeth me that nature wolde say. This mayd was of age twelue yere & tway In which that nature hath suche delyte For right as she can paynte a lyllye whyte And rody as rose, right with suche paynture She paynted hath this noble creature Er she was borne, vpon her lymmes fre Were als bright as suche colours shulde be And Phebus died had her tresses grete Lyke to the stremes of his burned hete And yf that excellent were her beaute A thousande folde more vertuous was she In her ne lacketh no conditioun That is to preyse, as by discretioun As wel in body as in gost, chaste was she For whiche she floured in virginite with al humylyte and abstynence With al attemperaunce and pacience with mesure eke, and beryng of array Discrete she was in answeryng alway Tho she were wyse as Pallas, dare I sayn (Her faconde eke, ful womanly and playn) No counterfayted termes had she To seme wyse: but after her degree She spake, and al her wordes more & lesse Sownyng in vertue and in gentyllesse Shamfast she was, ī maydēs shamfastnesse Constant in hert, and euer in busynesse To dryue her out of al slogardry Bacchus had of her mouthe no maistry For wyne and youth done Venus encrece As men in fyre wol casten oyle or grece And of her owne vertue vnconstrayned She hath ful ofte her sicke yfayned For that she wolde slye the company Where lykely was to treten of foly As is at feestes, at reuels, and at daunces That ben occasyons of dalyaunces Suche thynges maken chyldren for to be To sone rype and bolde, as men may se whiche is ful perillous, and hath ben yore For al to sone may she lerne lore Of boldnesse, whan she is a wyfe. And ye maistresses in your olde lyfe That lordes doughters han in gouernaunce Ne taketh of my worde no diplesaunce Thynke that ye ben set in gouernynges Of lordes doughters, onely for two thynges Eyther for ye han kepte your honeste Eyther ye han fal in freelte And knowen wel ynough the olde daunce And conne forsake fully mischaunce For euermore, therfore for Christes sake Kepeth wel tho that ye vndertake. ¶A thefe of venyson that hath forlafte His lykerousnesse, and al his theues crafte Can kepe a forest best of any man Nowe kepeth hem wel, for & ye wol ye can Loketh wel, to no vice that ye assent Lest ye be dampned for your yuel entent For who so dothe, a traytour is certayn And taketh kepe of that I shal you sayn Of al treyson souerayne pestilence Is, whan a wight betrayeth innocence Ye fathers, and eke ye mothers also Though ye han chyldren, be it one or mo Yours is the charge of al her sufferaunce whiles they ben in your gouernaunce Beth ware, that by ensample of your lyueng Eyther by your neglygence in chastisynge That they ne perishe: for I dare wel say If that they don, ye shal ful sore obey Vnder a shepeherde softe and neglygent The wolf hath many a shepe & lambe to rent Suffyseth one ensample nowe as here For I mote turne ayen to my matere. ¶This maid, of which I tel my tale expresse She kepte her selue, she neded no maistresse For in her lyueng maydens myght rede As in a boke, euery good worke and dede That longeth to a mayde vertuous She was so prudent and so bountuous For whiche out spronge on euery syde Bothe of her beaute and of her bounte wyde That thorowe y^e lōde they preysed her echon That loued vertue, saue enuy alone That sorye is of other mennes wele And gladde is of her sorowe, and vnhele The doctour maketh this discriptioun This mayde went on a day into the toun Towarde the temple, with her mother dere As is of yonge maydens the manere. ¶Nowe was there a Iustice in the toun That gouernour was of that regioun And so befyl, this Iustice his eyen cast Vpon this mayde, auisyng her ful fast

As she came foreby, there as the Iuge stode Anone hys herte chaungeth and hys mode So was he caught w^t beaute of this mayde And to hymselfe ful priuely he sayde Thys mayde shalbe myne for any man Anone the fende into hys herte can And taught hym sodeynly, by what sleyght The mayde to his purpose wynne he myght For certes, by no force, ne by no mede Hym thought he was not able for to spede For she was stronge of frendes, and eke she Confyrmed was in such souerayne beaute That wel he wyst he myght her neuer wyn As for to make her wyth her body synne For whych wyth great delyberatioun He sent after a clyent into the toun The whych he knew ful subtyl & full bolde This iuge vnto thys cliēt his tale hath tolde In secrete wyse, and made hym to ensure He shulde 〈◊〉〈◊〉 it vnto no creature And yf he ••yd, he shulde lese hys hede when assented was thys cursed rede Glad was the iuge, and made good chere And yaue hym gyftes precious and dere ¶when shapen was al thys conspiracie Fro poynt to poynt, howe that hys lecherie Parfourmed shulde be ful subtelly As ye shullen after here openly Home goeth thys clyent y^e hyght Claudius Thys false iuge, that hyght Appius So was hys name, for it is no fable But knowe for an hystorial thynge notable The sentence of it sothe is out of doute Thys false iuge goeth nowe fast aboute To hasten hys delyte, al that he maye And so byfell, that sone after on a daye Thys false iuge, as telleth vs the storie As he was wonte, sate in hys consystorie And yaue hys domes vpon sondry caas Thys false client came forth a ful gret paas And sayd lorde, yf it be your wyll As doth me ryght vpon thys pytous byll In whych I playne vpon Virginius And yf he wol say it is not thus I wol proue it, and fynde good wytnesse That soth is that my byl wol expresse The iuge answerde, of thys in hys absence I maye not yeue diffynite sentence Let do hym cal, and I wol gladly here Thou shalt haue ryght, and no wronge here Virginius came to wete the iuges wyl And ryght anone was radde thys cursed byl The sentence of it, was as ye shal here. ¶To you my lorde Appius so dere Sheweth your poore seruaunt claudius Howe that a knyght called Virginius Ayenst the lawe, and ayenst al equite Holdeth expresse ayenst the wyl of me My seruaunt, whych y^t is my thrale by right whych frō myne house was stolē on a night whyles he was ful yonge, I wol it preue By wytnesse lorde, so that ye you not greue She is not hys doughter, what so he saye wherfore my lorde iustyce I you praye Yelde me my thrale, yf it be your wyll Lo thys was al the sentence of that byll. ¶Virginius gan vpon the clyent beholde But hastely, er he hys tale tolde He wolde haue defēded it, as shulde a knight And by wytnesse of many a trewe wyght That al was false, that sayd hys aduersarye Thys cursed iuge wolde no lenger tarye Ne here a worde more of Virginius But yaue hys iudgement, and sayd thus. ¶I deme anone this client his seruaūt haue Thou shalt no lēger her in thyne house saue Go brynge her forth, & put her in our warde This cliēt shal haue his thral, thus I award ¶And whē thys worthy knyght Virginius Through the assent of the iudge Appius Muste by force hys dere doughter yeuen Vnto the iudge, in lechery to lyuen He goeth hym home, and set hym in hys hall And let anone hys dere doughter call And wyth face deed as ashen colde Vpon her humble face he gan beholde with fathers pyte, stickyng through his hert Al wolde he not from hys purpose conuert. ¶Doughter ({quod} he) Virginia by thy name There ben two wayes, eyther deth or shame That thou muste suffre, alas y^t I was borne For neuer thou deseruedest wherforne To dyen, wyth a sworde or wyth a knyfe Oh dere doughter, comforte of my lyfe whych I haue fostred vp wyth such plesaūce That thou ne were out of my remembraūce O doughter, whych that arte my last wo And in my lyfe my last ioye also O iemme of chastite, in pacience Take thou thy death, thys is my sentence For loue, and not for hate thou must be deed My pytous hande mote smyte of thyne heed Alas that euer Appius the sey Thus hath he falsly iudged the to dey

And tolde her al the case, as ye before Han herde, it nedeth not to tel it more ¶O mercy dere father ({quod} thys mayde) And wyth that worde, both her armes layde About hys necke, as she was wont to do The teeres braste out of her eyen two And sayd, O good father shal I dye Is there no grace? is there no remedye? ¶No certes dere doughter myne ({quod} he) Then yeue me leaue father myne ({quod} she) My death to complayne a lytel space For parde, Iepte yaue hys doughter grace For to complayne, er he her slough, alas And god it wote, nothynge was her trespas But that she ranne her father fyrst to se To welcome hym wyth great solempnyte And with that word she fel a swoune anone And after, whon her swounynge was gone She ryseth vp, and to her father sayd Blyssed be god that I shal dye a mayde Yeue me my death, er that I haue a shame Doth w^t your child your wil a goddes name And wyth y^e worde, she prayeth hym ful ofte That w^t his swerd he should smitte her softe And with that word, a swoune down she fel Her father, wyth sorowfull herte and fell Her heed of smote, and by the toppe it hente And to the iudge he it yaue in presente As he sate in dome in consystorye. when the iudge it sawe as sayth the storye He bade take hym, and hange hym also faste But ryght anone al the people in thrast To saue the knyght, for routh and for pytie For knowen was the iudges iniquitie The people anone had suspect in this thing By maner of thys clyentes chalengynge That it was by the assent of Appius They wyste wel that he was lecherous For whych vnto Appius they gone And casten hym in prison ryght anone where as he slowe hym selfe, and Claudius That seruaunt was vnto thys Appius was demed for to be hanged vpon a tre But Virginius, of hys great pyte So prayed for hym, that he was exiled And els certes he had ben begyled The remnaunt were hanged, more and lesse That consented were to thys cursydnesse Here may men se how syn hath hys meryte Beware, for no mā wot how god wyl smyte In no degre, ne in no maner wyse The worme of conscience wol aryse Of wycked lyfe, though it so priuy be That no man wote of it but god and he whether he be leude man or lered He not howe sone he may be affered Therfore I rede you thys counsayle take Forsake synne, or synne you forsake

¶Here endeth the doctour of Phi∣sykes tale, and foloweth the wordes of the hoost.

OVr hoste gan swere as he were woode Harowe ({quod} he) by nayles and by bloode Thys was a false thefe, and a cursed iustyce As shameful death, as herte may deuyse Come to the iustyce and her adu••cas Algate thys sely mayden is slayne, alas Alas to dere bought she her beaute wherfore I saye, that al men maye se That yeftes of fortune, or of nature Ben cause of death of many a creature Her beaute was her death, I dare wel sayne Alas so pytously as she was slayne But here of wol I not procede as nowe Men haue ful ofte more harme then prowe But truely myne owne mayster dere Thys is a pytous tale for to here But nathelesse, passe ouer is no force I pray to god to saue thy gentel cors And thy vrinalles, and thy iordanes Thyne ypocras, and eke thy galyanes And euery boxe ful of letuarye God blesse hem and our lady saynt Marye So mote I the, thou arte a propre man And ylyke a prelate, by saynt Runian Saue that I can not speake wel in terme But wel I wote, y^u doest myn herte to yerne That I haue almost ycaught a cardyacle By corpus domini, but I haue tryacle Or els a draught of moyste corny ale Or but I here anone an other mery tale My herte is loste, for pyte of thys mayde Thou belamy, thou Iohan pardoner he said Tel vs some mery tale, or iape, ryght anone. It shalbe done ({quod} he) by saynt Runyon But fyrst ({quod} he) here at thys ale stake I wol both drynke, and eate of a cake But ryght anone, these gentyls gan to crye

Nay, let hym tel vs of no rebaudrye Tel vs some moral thing, that we mow lere Some wytte, and than wol we gladly here I graunt ({quod} he) twys, but I mote thynke On some honest thyng, whyles y^t I drynke.

¶Here ende the wordes of the host, and here foloweth the pro∣logue of the Par∣doner.

LOrdynges ({quod} he) in chyrche whan I preche I payne me to haue an hau∣teyn speche And ring it out, as rounde as dothe a bel For I can al be roote, that I tel My teme is alwaye, and euer was (Radix omnium malorum est cupiditas) Fyrst I pronounce fro whens I come And than my bylles I shewe al and some Our ••••ege lorde seale on my patent That shewe I fyrst, my body to warent That no man be so bolde, preest ne clerke M•• to distourbe, of Christes holy werke And after that, tel I forthe my tales Bulles of Popes, and of Cardynales Of Patriarkes, and of Byshoppes I shewe And in latyn I speke wordes a fewe To sauer with my predication And for to steere men to deuotion Than shewe I forth my long christal stones Ycrammed ful of cloutes and of bones Relykes they ben, as wene they echone Than haue I in laton a sholderbone whiche that was of an holy iewes shepe Good men saye I, take of my wordes kepe If that this bone be washen in any wel If cowe or calfe, shepe, or oxe swel That any worme hath eeten, or hem stonge Take water of this wel, and washe his tong And it is hole anon: and farthermore Of pockes, and of scabbes, and euery sore Shal shepe be hole, that of this wel Drinketh a draught, take kepe of that I tel ¶If the good man that the beestes oweth wol euery day, er the cocke croweth Fastyng drynke of this wel a draught As thilke holy iewe our elders taught His beestes and his store shal multiplye And syrs, also it healeth ielousye For though a man be fal in ielous rage Let make with this water his potage And neuer shal he more his wyfe mistryst Though he in sothe the defaute by her wyst Al had she take preestes two or thre. ¶Here is a myttayne eke, that ye may se He that his honde wol put in thys mittayne He shal haue multiplyeng of his grayne whan he hath sowen, be it whete or otes So that he offer good pens or grotes And men & women, o thyng I warne you If any wight ben in this churche nowe That hath done synne horrible, that he Dare not for shame of it shriuen be Or any woman, be she yonge or olde That hath made her husbonde coke wolde Suche folke shul haue no powre ne no grace To offre to my relykes in this place And who so fyndeth hym out of suche blame Commeth vp and offre in goddes name And I assoyle hym by the auctorite Suche as by bulle was graunted to me. ¶By this gaude haue I wonne euery yere An hundred marke, sythen I was pardonere I stonde lyke a clerke in my pulpet And the leude people byn downe yset I preche so as ye haue lered here before And tel an hundred iapes more Than payn I me to stretche forth my necke And este and west, vpon the people I becke As dothe a doue, syttyng vpon a berne My hondes and my tonge gon ful yerne That it is ioy to se my besynesse Of auarice, and of suche cursydnesse Al my prechyng is for to maken hem fre To yeuen her pens, and namely vnto me For myne entent is not but for to wynne And nothyng for correction of synne I recke neuer, whan that they ben beryed Thoughe her soules gon a blacburyed For certes many a predycation Cometh oft tyme of yuel entencion. ¶Some for pleasaunce of folke, & for flatery To ben auaunced by hipocrysy And some for veyne glorie, and some for hate For whan I dare not other wayes debate Than wol I sting hem with my tōge smerte In prechyng, so that he shal not asterte To ben diffamed falsly, yf that he Hath trespased to my bretherne or to me

For though I tel not his propre name Men shal wel knowe that it is the same By signes, or by other circunstaunces Thus quyte I folke, y^t dothe vs displesaūces Thus put I out my venym vnder hewe Of holynesse, to semen holy and trewe But shortly myne entent I wol deuyse I preche of nothyng but of couetyse Therfore my teme is yet, and euer was Radix omnium malorum est cupiditas. ¶Thus can I preache ayenst the same vyce Whiche that I vse, and that is auarice But though my selfe be gilty in that synne Yet can I maken other folke to twynne From auarice, and sore hem to repent But that is not my principal entent I preche nothyng but for couetyse Of this matere, it ought ynough suffyse. Than tel I hem ensamples many one Of olde stories, longe tyme agone For leude people louen tales olde which thynges they can wel reporte & holde What trow ye? whiles that I may preche And wynne golde and syluer for to teche That I wol lyue in pouert wilfully? Nay nay, I thought it neuer trewly For I wol preche and begge in sōdrie londes I wol not do no labour with myn hondes Ne make baskettes, and lyue therby Bycause I wol not begge idelly I wol none of the apostels counterfete I wol haue money, mault, chese, & whete Al were it yeuen of the poorest page Or of the poorest wydowe in a village Though her children shuld sterue for famy•• Nay, I wol drinke the lycoure of the wyne And haue a ioly wenche in euery toun But herkeneth lordynges my conclusyoun Your lykyng is that I shulde tel a tale Nowe I haue drōken a draught of corny ale By god I hope I shal tel you a thynge That shal by reson ben at your lykynge For though my selfe be a ful vycious man A morall tale yet I you tel can whiche I am wonte to preche, for to wynne Nowe holdeth your peace, my tale I woll begyn.

¶Here endeth the Pardoners prologue, and here folo∣weth his tale.

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IN Flaunders whilō ther was a company Of yonge folke, that haū∣ted foly As hasarde, ryotte, Ste∣wes, & tauernes Where as wyth harpes Lutes, and Geternes They dauncen & playen at dyce nyght & day And eeten also, ouer that her might may Through which they don the dyuel sacrifyce within the dyuels temple, in cursed wyse By superfluite abhominable Her othes ben so great and so damnable That it is grisly for to here hem swere Our blissed lordes body they al to tere Hem thought iewes rent him not ynough And eche of hem at others synne lough. And right anon comen in tomblesteres Fetys and smale and yonge froytereres Syngers wilh harpes, bandes, & waferers whiche that ben verely the dyuels offycers To kyndlen and blowe the fyre of lechery That is anexed vnto glotony The holy writte take I to my wytnesse That lechery is in wyne and dronkenesse. ¶Lo howe that dronken Lothe vnkyndly Lay by his doughters two on wetyngly So dronke he was, he nist what he wrought And therfore sore repent hym ought Herodes, who so wol the stories seche There may ye lerne, & by ensample teche whan he of wyne was replete at his feste Right at his owne table, yaue his heste To sleen Iohan the Baptiste ful giltlesse Seneke saythe eke good wordes doutlesse He saythe he can no difference fynde Betwixt a man that is out of his mynde And a man that is dronklewe But woodnesse that is fallen in a shrewe Perseuereth lenger than dothe dronknesse O gloteny, ful of cursydnesse O cause fyrst of our confusyon O original of our dampnacion Tyl Christ had bouʒt vs w^t his blode agayn Lo howe dere, shortly for to sayn Bought was fyrst this cursed vilanye Corrupt was al this world through glotony Adam our forn father, and his wyfe also Fro Paradyce, to labour and to wo Were driuen for that vyce, it is no drede For whyles that Adam fasted, as I rede He was in paradyce, and whan that he Ete of the frute, defended on the tre Anon he was out caste to wo and payne O gloteny, on the wel ought vs to playne. ¶Oh, wyste a man howe many maladyes Foloweth of excesse and of glotenyes He wolde ben the more mesurable Of his dyete, syttyng at his table Alas the shorte throte, the tender mouthe Maketh that este, & west, northe, and southe, In erthe, in eyre, in water, man to swynke To getten a gloton dayntye mete and drinke Of this mater, o Poule wel canste thou trete Mete vnto wombe, & wombe eke vnto mete Shal god distroy bothe as Poule saythe Alas, a soule thyng it is by my faythe To say this worde, and fouler is the dede whan men so drinketh of the whyte & rede That of his trothe he maketh his priue Through thilke cursed superfluite. ¶The apostle sayth, wepyng ful pitously There walken many, of which tolde haue I I say it nowe wepyng with pitous voyce There ben enemyes Of Christes croyse Of which y^e ende is deth, wombe is her god O bely, O wombe, O stynkyng cod Fulfylled of donge and of corrupcioun At eyther ende of the soule is the soun Howe great coste and laboure is to fynde These cokes? how they stāpe, strain, & grinde And turne substaunce in to accident To fulfyl al thy lykerous talent Out of the harde bones knocken they The mary, for they caste it not awey That may go through the gullet safe & sote Of spycerie, of leues, barke, and rote Shal ben his sauce ymade by delyte To maken hym haue a newer apetyte But certes he that haunteth suche delytes Is deed, whiles that he lyueth in the vyces ¶A lecherouse thyng is wyne and drōknesse It is ful of stryuyng and of wretchydnesse Oh dronken man, disfygured in thy face Sower is thy breth, foul art thou to enbrace And through thy drōkē nose sowneth y^e soun As tho thou saydest aye, Sampson Sāpson And yet god wote Sāpson drōk neuer wyne Thou fallest, as it were a stycked swyne Thy tonge is lost, and al thyne honest cure For drynkennesse is very sepulture Of mannes wytte, and his discretion In whom that drinke hath domynation

He can no counsayle kepe, it is no drede Nowe kepe you fro the whyte and fro y^e rede Namely fro the white wyne of Lepe That is to sel in Fishe strete and in Chepe This wyne of Spayne crepeth subtelly In other wynes growyng fast by Of whiche riseth suche fumosyte That whan a mā hath drōck draughtes thre And weneth that he be at home in Chepe He is in Spayne, right at the towne of Lepe Nought at Rochel, ne at Burdeaux toun And than wol he say, Sampsoun Sāpsoun But herkeneth lordiges o word, I you pray That al the souerayne actes, dare I say Of victories in the olde Testament That thorowe very god, that is omnipotent Were don in abstinence and in prayere Loketh the Byble, and there ye mow it lere. Loketh Attyla, the great conquerour Deyd in his slepe, with shame and dishonour Bledyng aye at his nose in dronknesse A capitayne shulde lyue in sobernesse. And ouer al this, auyse you right wel what was cōmaunded vnto Lamuel? Nat Samuel: but Lamuel saye I Redeth the Byble, and fyndeth it expresly Of wyne yeuyng to hem that haue iustyce No more of this, for it may ynoughe suffyce.

And nowe that I haue spoke of glotenye Nowe wol I defende you hasardrie Hasarde is very mother of lesynges And of disceyte, and cursed for swerynges Blaspheme of christ, māslauʒter, & wast also Of batayle ofte tyme, and of other mo It is reprefe, and contrarye to honour For to be holden a cōmen hasardour And euer the hyer that he is of estate The more he is holden desolate If that a prince vse hasardrie In al gouernaunce and policie He is as by comen opinyon Holde the lesse in reputacion. ¶Styllebon, that was holde a wyse ambas∣sadour was sent in to Corinthe w^t ful great honour Fro Calydone, to maken hem alyaunce And whan he came, happed this chaunce That al the greatest that were of that londe Playeng at hasarde he hem fonde For whiche, as sone as it might be He stale hym home ayen to his countre And sayd, there wol I not lese my name I nyl not take on me so great defame For to alye you to none hasardours Sendeth other wyser enbassadours For by my trouthe, me were leuer dye Than I shulde you to hasardours alye For ye that ben so gloriouse in honours Shal not alye you with hasardours As by my wyl, ne by my tretie This wyse philosopher, thus sayd he. ¶Loke eke howe to kyng Demetrius The kyng of Parthes, as the boke saythe vs Sent hym a payre of dyce of golde in scorne For he had vsed hasardrie there byforne For which he helde his glorie & his renoun At no value or reputacioun Lordes might fynde other maner play Honest ynough to driue the day away.

Nowe wol I speke of othes false & great A worde or two, as other bokes entreat Great sweryng is thyng abhomynable And false sweryng is yet more reprouable The hye god forbade sweryng at all wytnesse of Mathew, but in specyall Of sweryng, saythe the holy Ieromye Thou shalte swere soth thyn othes, & not lye And swere in dome and eke in rightwysnesse But ydle sweryng is a cursydnesse. ¶Beholde and se that in the fyrst table Of hye goddes hestes honorable Howe that the seconde heste of hym is this Take not my name in ydelnesse amys Lo, he rather forbyddeth such sweryng Than homicide, or any other cursed thyng I say as thus, by order it stondeth This knoweth they y^t his hestes vnderston∣deth Howe that the seconde heste of god is that And further more, I wol the tel al plat That vengeaūce shal not parte fro his hou•• That of hys othes is to outragyous By goddes preciouse herte, and his bones And by the blode of Christ, shed for vs ones Seuen is my chaunce, and thyn fyue & thre By goddes armes, yf thou falsly play me This daggar shal thorowe thyn herte go This frute cometh of thylke bones two For swering, ire, falsnesse, and homicyde Now for y^t loue of Christ, that for vs dyde Leaueth your othes, bothe great and smale For I shal tel you a meruaylous tale. ¶These ryottours thre, of which I tel Longe erste or prime ronge any bel

were set hem in a tauerne to drinke And as they sate, they herde a bel clynke Byforne a cors, y^t was caryed to his graue That one of hem gan cal to his knaue Go bette ({quod} he) and aske redely what cors is this, that passeth forthe by And loke that thou reporte his name wele. ¶Syr ({quod} he) it nedeth neuer a dele It was me told er ye came here two houres He was parde an olde felowe of yours Al sodaynly was he slayne to nyght For dronke as he sate on his benche vpright There came a priuy thefe, men clepen dethe That in this countrey al the people slethe And with his speare he smote his hert a two And went his way, withouten wordes mo He hath a thousande slayne, this pestilence And mayster, er ye come in his presence Me thynketh that it were necessarye For to beware of suche an aduersarye Bethe redy for to meten hym euer more Thus taught me my dame, I say no more. ¶By saynt Mary, sayd this tauernere the chylde sayth sothe, for he hath this yere Hence ouer a myle, slayne in a great village Bothe man and woman, chylde and page I nowe his habytacioun be there To ben auysed, great wysedome it were Er that he dyd a man dishonour. ¶Yea goddes armes ({quod} this ryottour) Is it suche peril with him for to mete? I shal hym seche by style & eke by strete I make a vowe, by goddes digne bones Herkeneth felowes, we thre ben al ones Let eche of vs holde vp his honde to other And eche of vs become others brother And we wol slee this false traytour dethe He shal be slayne, that so many slethe By goddes dignite, er that it be nyght ¶To gider hā these thre her trouthes plight To lyue and dye eche of hym with other As though he were his owne brother And vp they sterten al dronken in this rage And forthe they gone, towarde that village Of which the tauerner hath spoke before And many a grisly othe han they swore And Christes blessed body they to rent Dethe shal be deed, and we may hym hent. ¶whan they han gone not fully a myle Right as they wold haue troden ouer a style An olde poore man with hem mette This olde man ful mekely hem grette And sayd, nowe lordynges god you se. ¶The proudest of these ryottours thre Answerde ayen, what chorle w^t harde grace why art thou al forwrapped saue thy face? why lyuest thou so longe in so great age? ¶This olde man gan loken in hys visage And sayd thus: for I can not fynde A man, though I walked into Iude Neyther in cyte, ne in no village That wol chaunge his youthe for myne age And therfore mote I haue myn age styl As longe tyme as it is goddes wyl. Ne dethe alas, nyl not haue my lyfe Thus walke I lyke a restlesse caityfe And on y^e ground, which is my mothers gate I knocke with my staffe erlyche and late And say, leue mother let me in Lo howe I vanyshe, fleshe, bloode, & skyn Alas, whan shal my bones ben at reste Mother with you wolde I chaūge my cheste That in my chamber longe tyme hath be Ye for an heren cloute to wrappe in me But yet to me she wol not done that grace For whiche ful welked is my face But syrs, to you it is no curtesye To speken vnto an olde man villanye But he trespace in worde eyther in dede In holy writte, ye may your selfe wel rede Ayenst an olde man, hoore vpon his heede Ye shulde aryse, therfore I you rede Ne doth vnto an old man no harme as now No more than ye wolde a man dyd you In age, yf that I may so longe abyde And god be with you, whether ye go or ryde I mote go thyder as I haue to go ¶Nay olde chorle, by god thou shalt not so Sayd these other hasardours anon Thou partest not so lightly by saynt Iohn Thou spakest right now of thilk trayter deth That in this countre al our frendes slethe Haue here my trouthe thou arte his espye Tel where he is, or els thou shalt dye By god and by the holy sacrament For sothely thou arte of hys assent To slee vs yonge folke, thou false thefe. ¶Nowe syrs, yf it be to you sy lefe To fynde dethe, turne vp this croked way For in that groue I lefte hym by my fay Vnder a tree, and there he wol abyde Ne for your boste he nyl hym nothyng hyde Se ye yōder oke, right there ye shal hī fynde God saue you, that bought ayen mankynde

And you amende, thus sayd thus olde man ¶Than eueryche of these ryottours ran Tyl they came to the tree, & there they foūde Floreynes of golde fyne, ycoyned rounde wel nye a seuen bushels, as hem thought No lenger than after dethe they sought But eche of hem so glad was of that syght For that the Floreyns so fayre ben & bright That downe they sytte, by the precious hord The worst of hem spake the fyrst word. ¶Brethern ({quod} he) take kepe what I say My wytte is great, though I borde & play This tresure hath fortune to vs yeuen In myrthe and iolyte our lyfe to lyuen And lightly as it cōmeth, so wol we spende Hey, goddes precious herte: who wende To day, that we shulde haue so fayr a grace? But might thus gold be caryed fro this place Home to my house, or els to yours (For wel I wote that al this golde is ours) Than were we in hye felycite But trewly by day it may not be Men wolde say, that we were theues strōge And for our owne tresoure than vs honge This tresour muste ycaried be by night As wisely and as ••••ily as it might Wherfore I rede, let loke amonge vs al To drawe, & let se where the cutte wol fal He that hath y^t shortest cutte, with hert blyth Shal renne to towne, and that ful swythe To bring vs breed & drinke ful priuely And two of vs shal kepe ful subtelly This tresour wel, and yf he wol not tarye whan it is night, we wol this tresour carye By one assent, where as vs lyste best That one of hem brought grasse in his fest And bad hē draw, & loke on whō it wold fal And it fel on the yongest of hem al And forth towarde the towne he went anon And al so sone as he was gone That one of hem spake vnto that other Thou wost wel, thou art my sworn brother Thy profyte wol I tel the right anone Thou woste wel that our felowe is gone And here is golde, and that ful great plente That shal departed be amonge vs thre But n••thelesse, yf that I can shape it so That it departed were amonge vs two Had I not done a frendly turne to the That other answerd, I not how y^t might be I wol wel that the golde were ours two what shulde we do, that it might be so? ¶Shal it be coūsayle (said the fyrst shrewe) And I shal tel the in wordes fewe what we wol done, and bryng it wel aboute. I graunt ({quod} that other) out of doute That by my trouth, I wol y^t not bewrayne ¶Now ({quod} he) thou wost wel we ben twayn And twayne of vs shal stronger be than one Loke whan he is sette, and than anone Aryse, as though thou woldest w^t hym play And I shal ryuen him through y^e sydes tway whyles y^t thou strugglest w^t hym as in game And with thy dagger, loke thou do the same And than shal al the golde departed be My dere frende, betwixt the and me Than may we bothe our lustes fulfyl And play at dyce, right at our owne wyl And thus accorded ben these shrewes tway To slee the thyrde, as ye herde me say This yongest, which y^t went to the towne Ful often in his herte he rolled vp and down The beautie of these floreyns fayre & bright O lorde ({quod} he) yf so were that I might Haue al this tresour to my selfe alone There nys no man, that lyueth vnder trone Of god, that shulde lyue so mery as I And at the laste the feude our enemy Put in his thought, that he shuld poyson bey with which he might sleen his felowes twey For why, the fende fonde hym in such lyuing That he had leue to sorowe hym to bryng For this was vtterly hys entente To sleen hem bothe, and neuer to repente. ¶And forth he goth, no lenger wold he tary In to the towne, vnto a potecary And prayde hym that he wol hym sel Some poyson, that he might his rattes quel And eke there was a polkat in his hawe That as he sayd, his capons had yslawe And sayd, he wold wreken hym if y^t he might Of vermyn, that distroyed hem by night. ¶The potecary answerde, thou shalt haue A thyng, as wisely god my soule saue In al this worlde there nys no creature That eateth or drinketh of this confecture Not but the moūtenaūce of a corne of whete That he ne shal hys lyfe anon forlete Yea sterue he shal, and that in lesse whyle Thā thou woldest gon a pace, not but a myle This poyson is so harde and so violent ¶This cursed man hath in his honde hent This poyson in a bore, and sythe he ran In to the next strete vnto a man

And borowed hym large botels thre And in the two, the poyson poured he The thyrde he kept clene for his drinke For al the night he shope hym for to swynke In caryeng of the golde out of that place And whan this riottour, with sorie grace Had fylde with hym hys great bottels thre To his felowes ayen repayred he. ¶what nedeth it therof to sermon more? For right as they had caste his dethe before Right so they han hym slayne, & that anone And whan this was done, than spake y^e one Nowe let vs syt and drinke, & make vs mery And afterwarde we wolne his body bury And after that it happed hem per caas The one toke the botel, therin y^t poyson was And dronke, and yaue his felowe drinke also Through which anon they sterne both two. ¶But certes I suppose that Auicenne wrote neuer in no cannon, ne in no fenne More wonder sorowes of enpoysonnyng Than had these wretches two in her ending Thus ended ben these homicides two And eke the false enpoysonner also. O cursed synne, ful of al cursydnesse O traytours homicide, O wickydnesse O glotenye, luxure, and hasardye Thou blasphemour of Christ wyth vilanye And othes great, of vsage and of pryde Alas mankynde, howe may it betyde That to thy creatoure, which y^t the wrought And with his precious bloode the bought Thou arte so false and so vnkynde, alas? Now good mē, godforyeue you your trespas And ware you fro the synne of auaryce Myne holy pardon, may you al waryshe So that ye offre nobles or starlynges Other els syluer spones, broches, or rynges Boweth your heed vnder this bulle Cometh vp ye wyues, & offreth of your wol Your names here I entre in my rolle anon In to the blisse of heuen shul ye al gon I you assoyle by myne high powere Ye that offren, as clene and eke clere As ye were borne. Lo syrs, thus I preche And Iesu Christ, that is our soules leche So graunt you hys pardon to receyue For that is beste, I wol you not disceyue But sirs, one worde for yate I in my tale I haue relykes, and pardon in my male As fayre as any man in Englonde whiche were yeuen me by the popes honde If any of you wol of deuocion Offren, and haue myne absolucion Cometh forthe anon, and kneleth here adoun That ye may haue parte of my pardoun Or els taketh pardon as ye wende Al newe and freshe, at euery townes ende So that ye offren alway newe and newe Nobles or pens, whiche ben good and trew It is great honour to eueryche that is here That ye may haue a sufficient pardonere To assoyle you, in countre there ye ryde For auentures, whiche that may betyde For perauenture there may fal one or two Downe of her horse, & breke her necke a two Loke whiche suertie it is to you al That I am in your felowshyp yfal That maye assoyle you bothe more and lasse whan that the soule shal fro the body passe I rede that oure hoste shal begynne For he is moste enuelopte of synne Cometh forthe sir hoste, and offre fyrst anon And thou shalte kysse the relykes euerychon Yea for a grote, vnbokyl anon thy purse. ¶Nay nay ({quod} he) than haue I christes curse Let be ({quod} he) it shal not be so theiche Thou woldest make me kisse thyn old breche And swere it were a relyke of a seynt Though it were w^t thy foundemēt depeynt But by the crosse, which seynt Helayne fonde I wolde I had thy coylons in myne honde In stede of relykes, or of sanctuarye Let cutte hem of, I wol helpe y^e hem to cary They shul be shrined in an hogges torde This pardoner answerde not a worde So wrothe he was, he wolde no worde say. ¶Now ({quod} oure hoste) I wol no lenger play with the, ne with non other angry man. ¶But right anon the worthy knight began whan that he sawe that al the people loughe Nomore of this, for it is right ynoughe Sir pardoner, be mery and glad of chere And ye sir hoste, that ben to me so dere I praye you that ye kysse the pardoner And pardoner, I pray the drawe the ner And as we dyd, let vs laughe and play Anon they kyssed, and ryden forthe her way.

¶Here endeth the pardoners tale, & here begynneth the Ship∣mans Prologue

NOwe frendes sayd oure hoste so dere How lyketh you by Iohn the Pardonere? He hathe vnbokeled wel the male He hath vs tolde right a thrifty tale As touchyng of hys mysgouernaunce I pray to god yeue hym good chaunce As ye han herde, of these ryottours thre Nowe gentyl mariner, hertely I pray the Tel vs a good tale, and that right anon It shal be done, by god & by saynt Iohn Sayd this maryner, as wel as euer I can And right anon his tale he thus began

¶Here endeth the Shypmans Prologue, and here fo∣loweth hys tale.

[illustration]

A Marchaunt, whilom dwelled at saīt Denise That ryche was, for which mē held hī wise A wyfe he had, of ex∣cellent beaute And cōpynable, & re∣uelous was she Whyche is a thynge that causeth more dispence Than worthe is al the chere and reuerence That men hem done, at feestes & at daunces Suche salutations and countynaunces Passeth, as dothe the shadowe on a wal But wo is hym that paye mote for al The sely husbonde algate he mote paye He mote vs bothe cloth and eke araye Al for his owne worshippe, richely In whiche array we dauncen iolyly And yf that he may nat parauenture Or els lust no suche spence endure But thynketh, that it is wast and ylost Than mote another paye for our coste And lende vs golde, and that is perilous This noble Marchant held a noble hous For whiche he had al day great repayre For his largesse, and for hys wyfe was fayre That wonder is but herkeneth to my tale Amonge al his gestes great and smale. There was a monke, a fayre man & a bolde I trowe thurty wynter he was olde

That euer in one, was drawing to that place This yonge monke, y^t so fayre was of face Aquaynted was with this good man Sythens that he fyrst knowlege began That in his house, as famylier was he As it is possyble any frende to be And for as moche, as this good man And eke this monke, of which I began Were bothe two borne in one village The monke hym claymed, as for cosynage And he agayne sayd not ones nay But was as glad therof, as foule of day For to his herte it was a great pleasaunce Thus ben they knytte w^t eterne aliaunce And eche of hem gan other for to ensure Of brotherheed, whyles her lyfe may dure. ¶Fre was Dan Iohan, & namely of dispēce As in that house, and ful of diligence To do pleasaunce, and eke great costage He foryate not to yeue the leste page In al that house, but after her degre He yaue the lorde, and sythen hys meyne whan y^t he came, some maner honest thyng For whiche they were as glad of his cōming As foule is fayne, whan the sonne vp ryseth No more herof as nowe, for it suffyseth. ¶But so byfel, this marchaunt on a day Shepe hym to make redy hys aray Towarde the towne of Bruges for to fare ••••bye there a porcion of ware For whiche he hath sent to parys anon A messanger, and prayde hath dan Iohn That he shuld come to saint Denys to playn with him, and with his wife, a day or twayn Or he to Bruges went, in al wyse. ¶This noble monke, of which I you deuyse Hath of his abbot, as hym lyst lycence Bycause he was a man of hye prudence And eke an offycer, out for to ryde To seen her graunges, and her bernes wyde And vnto saynt Denys he cometh anon. who was so welcome, as my lord dan Iohn Our dere cosyn, ful of curtesye with him he brought a iubbe of maluesy•• And eke another ful of fyne vernage And volatily, as was aye his vsage And thus I let hem both eate, drinke, & play This marchant & this monke, a day or tway ¶The thyrde day this marchaunt vp ryseth And on his nede sadly hym auyseth And vp in to his countyng house gothe he To reken with hym selfe, as wel may be Of thilke yere, howe it with hym stoode And howe he spended had his goode And yf that he encresed were or none His bokes and his bagges many one He laythe afore hym, on his counter borde Ful ryche was hys tresour and his horde For whiche ful faste his counter dore he shet And eke he nolde no man shulde hym let Of hys accomptes, for the mene tyme And thus he sate tyl it was passed prime. Dan Iohan was rysen in the morow also And in the garden walked two and fro And hath hys thynges sayd ful curtesly. ¶This good wyfe come walkyng priuely In to the garden, there he walked softe And hym salueth, as she hath done ful ofte A mayden chylde came in her companye which as her luste, she may gouerne & gye For yet vnder the yerde was the mayde. ¶O dere cosyn dan Iohan, she sayde what eyleth you so rathe to a ryse? ¶Nece ({quod} he) it ought ynough suffyse Fyue houres for to slepen on a night But it were for an olde palied wight As ben these old wedded men, that lye & dare As in a forme sytteth a wery hare Al forstraught, with houndes gret & smale But dere nece, why loke ye so pale? I trowe certes, that our good man Hath you laboured, sythe this night began That you were nede to resten hastely And with that worde, he lough ful merily And with his owne thought he woxe al reed This fayre wyfe, gan to shake her heed And sayd thus, yea god wote al ({quod} she) Nay cosyn myne, it stondeth not so with me For by that god that yaue me soule and lyfe In al the realme of Fraunce, is there no wife That lesse luste hath to that sory play For I may syngen alas, and welaway That I was borne, but to no wight ({quod} she) Dare I not tel, howe it stonte with me Wherfore I think out of this world to wed Or els of my selfe sone to make an ende So ful I am of drede and eke of care. ¶This mōke began vpon this wyfe to stare And sayd alas, nay nece god forbede That ye for any sorowe, or for any drede For do your selfe, but telleth me your grefe Perauenture I may in your mischefe Counsayle or helpe, & therfore telleth me Al your anoye, for it shal secret be

For on my portouse I make an othe That neuer in my lyfe, for lefe ne lothe Ne shal I not of no counsayle you bewray. The same ayen to you ({quod} she) I say By god and by this portouse, I you swere Thoug men wolde me al in to peces tere Ne shal I neuer, for to go to hel Bewray o worde, of thyng that ye me tel Not for no cosynage, ne for alyaunce But verily for loue and affyaunce Thus ben they sworne, and here vpon kyste And ylke of hem tolde other what hem lyste ¶Cosyn ({quod} she) yf I had a space As I haue none, and namely in this place Than wolde I tel a legende of my lyfe That I suffred haue▪ sythe I was a wyfe with myn husbonde, though he be your cosyn Nay ({quod} this mōke) by god & seynt Martyn He nis no more cosyn vnto me Than is this lefe, that hongeth on the tre I clepe him so, by saynte Denys of Fraunce To haue the more cause of aquayntaunce Of you, whom I haue loued specially Abouen al other women sykerly This swere I you on my professyoun Telleth your grefe, leste he come adoun And hasteth you, and goth your way anon. My dere loue ({quod} she) O my dan Iohn. Ful lefe me were this counsayle to hyde But out it mote, it may no lenger abyde My husbonde is to me the worste man That euer was, sythe the worlde began But sythen I am a wyfe, it sytte not to me To tellen no wight of our priuyte Neyther in bedde, ne in none other place God shylde I shulde tel it for his grace A wyfe ne shulde not say of her husbonde But al honoure, as I can vnderstonde Saue vnto you, thus moche tel I shal As helpe me god, he is nought worthe at al In no degre, the value of a flye But yet me greueth moste his nygardye And wel ye wote, that woman naturally Desyren thynges syxe, as wel as I They wolden that her husbondes shulde be Hardy, and wyse, riche, and therto fre And buxom to his wyfe, and freshe a bedde But by that ylke lorde that for vs bledde For hys honoure, my selfe to arraye A sonday next, I mote nedes paye An hundred frankes, or els am I lorne Yet were me leuer that I were vnborne Than me were done a slaunder or a vilanye And yf myn husbonde eke might it aspye I nere but loste, and therfore I you prey Lene me this somme, or els mote I dey Dan Iohn I say, lene me this hūdred frākes Parde I wol not fayle you my thankes If that ye lyste to do that I you pray For at a certayne day I wol you pay And to done you what plesaunce & seruyce That I may don, right as ye lyste deuyse And but I do, god take on me vengeaunce As foule as euer had genilion of Fraunce. ¶This gētil mōke answerd in this manere Nowe truly myne owne lady dere I haue ({quod} he) on you so great routhe That I you swere, and plight my trouthe That whā your husbōd is to Flaūders ••fare I wol delyuer you out of al this care I wol brynge you an hundred frankes And with that he caught her by the flankes And her enbraced herde, and kyssed her ofte Go the nowe your way ({quod} he) al styl & softe And let vs dyne as sone as euer ye may For by my kalender it is prime of the day Gothe nowe, & beth as true as I shal be. Nowe els god forbyd syr sayd she And forthe she gothe, as ioly as a pye And bade the cokes that they shulde hem hye So that men might dyne, and that anone Vp to her husbonde is this wyfe gone And knocked at his counter do••e boldely. Qui est la ({quod} he) Peter it am I (Quod she) howe longe wol ye fast? Howe longe tyme wol ye recken and caste Your sommes, your bokes, & your thynges? The dyuel haue parte of al such reckeninges Ye haue ynough ({quod} she) of goddes sonde Come down to day, & let your bagges stonde Ne be ye not a shamed, that dan Iohn Shal fastyng al this longe day gon? what let vs go here masse and go dyne. ¶Wyfe ({quod} this mā) lytel canst thou diuyne The curyous besynesse that we haue For of chapmen, so god me saue And by that lorde that called is seynt Iue Scarsly amonge twenty, twelue shal thriue Contynually, lastyng vnto theyr age We may wel make chere & good vysage And driue forthe the worlde, as it may be And kepe our estate in priuyte Tyl we be deed, or els that we play A pylgrimage, or gone out of the way

And therfore haue I great necessyte Vpon this queynte worlde to auyse me For euermore we mote stonde in drede Of happe and fortune, in our chapmanhede. To Flaūders wol I gone to morow at day And come ayene as sone as euer I may For whiche my dere wyfe, I the beseke As be to euery wight buxom and meke And for to kepe our good be curyouse And honestly gouerne wel our house Thou haste ynough, in euery maner wyse That to a thrifty huswyfe may suffyse The lacketh none array, ne no vitayle Of syluer in thy purse thou mayst not fayle And with y^e worde, his counter dore he shette And down he gothe, no lenger wold he lette And hastely a masse was there isayde And spedely the tables were ilayde And to dyner faste they hem spedde And richly the chapman this monke fedde. And after dyner, dan Iohan soberly This chapman toke a parte al priuely And sayd hym thus, cosyn it stondeth so T•••••• wel I se to Bruges ye wol go God and saynt Austen spede you and gyde I pray you cosyn, wysely that ye ryde Gouerneth you also wel of your dyete Al temperatly, and namely in this hete Betwixt vs two nedeth no straunge fare Farwel cosyn, god shylde you fro care If any thyng there be by day or by night And it lye in my power or in my might That ye me wol cōmaunde in any wyse It shal be done, right as ye wol deuyse O thyng or that ye go, yf that it may be I wolde pray you for to leue me In hundred frankes, for a weke or twey For certayne beestes, that I mote nedes bey To store with a place that is ours God helpe me so, I wolde it were yours I shal not fayle surely at my day Not for a thousande frankes, a myle way But let this thyng be secret, I you pray For yet this night these beestes mote I bey And fare nowe wele, myne owne cosyn dere Graunt mercy of your coste and your chere. ¶This noble marchaunt, gentilly anon Answerde and sayd, O cosyn dan Iohn Nowe sikerly, this is a smal request My golde is yours, whan that you leste And not only my golde, but my chaffare Take what ye lyste, god shilde that ye spare But one thyng is, ye knowe it wel ynough Of chapmen, that her money is her plough we may creaunce, whyle we haue a name But goldlesse for to be it is a shame Paye it ayen, whan it lythe at your ese After my might, fayne wolde I you plese ¶These hundred frankes, set he forthe anon And priuely he toke hem to dan Iohn No wight of this worlde, wyst of thys lone Sauyng this marchaūt, & dan Iohan alone They drinke & speke, & rome a while and pley Tyl that dan Iohan rydeth to his abbey. The morow came, & forth ryd this marchāt To Flaūders warde, his prētes brought him auāt Tyl he came to Bruges, wel & merily Nowe gothe this marchaunt, wel and besily About his nedes, & byeth, and creaunseth He neyther playeth at the dyce ne daunseth But as a marchaunt, shortly to tel He ledde his lyfe, and there I let him dwel ¶The sonday next, y^t this marchāt was gon To saynt Denys is comen dan Iohn with crowne & berde al freshe & newe ishaue In al this house, there nas so lytel a knaue Ne no wight els, but he was ful fayne For y^t my lorde dan Iohn was comen agayn And shortly to the poynte for to gon This fayre wyfe acordeth with dan Iohn That for these hundred frankes he shulde al night Haue her in his armes, bolte vpright And this acorde parformed was in dede In myrthe al nyght a besy lyfe they lede Tyl it was day, y^t dan Iohn yede his way And bade the meyne farwel & haue good day For none of hem, ne no wyght in the toun Had of Dan Iohan any suspection And forthe he rydeth, home to his abbey Or where hym lyste, no more of hym I sey. ¶This marchaunt, whan ended was y^e faire To saynte Denys he gan for to repaire And with his wyfe he maketh feest & chere And telleth her that the chaffare is so dere That nedes muste he make a cheuesaunce For he was bounden in a reconisaunce To pay twenty thousande shildes anon For whiche this marchaunt is to Paris gon To borowe of certayne frendes that he had A certayne frankes, & some with hym he lad And whan he was comen in to the toun For chierte and great affection Vnto dan Iohn he fyrst gothe hym to pley Nought for to borowe of hym no money

But for to wete and se of his welfare And for to tellen him of his chaffare As frendes done, whā they ben mette in fere Dan Iohan him maketh feest & mery chere And he him tolde ayen ful specially Howe he had bought, ful wel and graciously Thonked be god, al hole hys marchaundyse Saue that he muste, in al maner wyse Maken a cheuesaunce, as for his beste And than shulde he be in ioye and reste Dā Iohn answerd, certes I am right fayn That ye in heale be comen home agayne And yf I were riche, as haue I blisse Of twēty thousand shildes shuld ye not misse For ye so kyndely, this other day Lent me golde, and as I can and may I thonke you, by god and by saynt Iame But nathelesse, I toke it vnto our dame Your wyfe at home, the same golde agayne Vpon your benche, she wote it wel certayne By certayne tokens, that I can her tel Nowe by your leue, I may no lenger dwel Our abbot wol out of this towne anon And in hys companye I mote gon Grete wel our dame, myne owne nece swete And farwele dere cosyn, tyl we mete. ¶This marchant that was ful ware & wyse Creaunced hath, and eke payde in Parys To certayne lombardes, redy in her houdes This somme of gold, & gate of hem y^e bondes And home he gothe, as mery as a popyngay For wel he knewe he stode in suche aray That nedes muste he wyn by that viage A thousande frankes, aboue al his costage. ¶His wyfe ful redy met hym at the yate As she was wonte, of olde vsage algate And al that night in myrthe they be sette For he was ryche, and clerely out of dette whā it was day, this marchāt gan enbrace His wyfe al newe, & kyssed her in her face And vp he gothe, & made it wonder tough No more ({quod} she) by god ye haue ynough And wantonly ayen with hym she playde Tyl at the laste this marchant thus sayde. By god ({quod} he) I am a lytel wrothe With you my wyfe, al though it be me lothe And wot ye why: by god as I gesse For ye haue made a maner of straungenesse Betwixt me and my cosyn dan Iohn Ye shulde haue warned me, or I had gon That he had you an hundred frankes payde By redy token, & helde hym yuel apayde For that I to hym spake of cheuesaunce Me semed so, as by his countenaunce But nathelesse, by god our heuen kyng I thought not to aske of hym nothyng I pray the wyfe, ne do no more so Tel me alway er that I fro the go If any dettour, hath in myne absence Ypayde the, leste through thy neglygence I might hym aske a thyng that he hath payd ¶This wyfe was not a ferde ne affrayde But boldely she sayd, and that anon Mary I defye that false monke dan Iohn I kepe not of hys tokens neuer a dele He toke me certayne golde, I wot it wele what yuel thedom on his monkes snoute For god it wotte, I wende without doute That he had yeue it me, bycause of you To don therwith myne honoure & my prow For cosynage, and eke for bellye chere That he hath had ful often tymes here But sythe I se it stonte in suche disioynte I wol answere you shortly to the poynte. Ye haue mo slacker dettours than am I For I wol pay you wel and redily Fro day to day, and yf so be I fayle I am your wyfe, score it on my tayle Or els I shal pay it as sone as euer I may For by my trouth, I haue on myne aray And not in waste, bestowed it euery dele And for I haue bestowed it so wele To your honour, for goddes sake I say As be not wrothe, but let vs laughe & play Ye shal my ioly body haue to wedde By god I nyl not pay you but a bedde Foryeue it me, myne owne spouse dere Turneth hitherwarde, & make better chere. ¶This marchant sawe ther was no remedy And for to chyde, it was but a folye Sythen that the thyng may not amended be Nowe wyfe he sayd, and I foryeue it the But in thy lyfe, be no more so large Kepe bet my good, this yeue I the in charge Thus endeth nowe my tale, & god vs sende Talynge ynough, vnto our lyues ende.

¶Here endeth the Shypmans tale, and here foloweth the wordes of our host.

Wel sayd by corpus domini ({quod} our hoste) Nowe longe mote thou sayle by the coste Thou gentyl mayster, gentel marinere God gyue y^e mōke a thousand last quad yere I ha felowes, beware of suche a iape The mōke put in the marchātes hode an ape And in hys wyues eke, by saynt Austyn Draweth no mōkes more in to your Inne But nowe passe ouer, & let vs seke aboute who shal tell nowe fyrst of all thys route An other tale, and wyth that worde he sayde Is curteously, as it had bene a mayde. My lady prioresse, by your leue So that I wyste that I shuld you not greue I wol deme, that ye tellen sholde I tale nexte, yf so be that ye wolde Nowe wol yt vouchsafe my lady dere Gladly ({quod} she) and sayd in thys manere.

¶Here ende the wordes of oure hoste, & here begynneth the Prioresse prologue.

DOmine dominus noster: quam admirabile est nomen tuum in vniuersa terra,

LOrde our Lorde, thy name how maruaylous Is in thys wyde worlde ysprad ({quod} she) For not only thy lande precious Parfourmed is, by men of dygnite But by the mouth of chyldren thy bounte Parfourmed is, for on the brest soukynge Sometyme shewen they thyne heryenge

wherfore in laude, as I can best and may Of the and of the whyte lylly floure whych that the bare, & is a mayde alway To tellen a storye, I wol do my laboure Nought that I may encrese her honoure For she her selfe is honoure and rote Of bountye, nexte her sonne of soules bote

Mother mayden, O mayden & mother fre O bushe vnbrent, brennyng in Moses syght That rauyshedest downe fro the deyte Through thyn hūblesse, y^e gost y^t in the light Of whose vertue, whē he in thine hert pight Conceyued was the fathers sapience Helpe me to tel it in thy presence

Lady thy bounte, and thy magnifycence Thy vertue and thy great humilite There may no tonge expresse, in no science For somtyme lady, er men pray to the Thou goest before, of thy benignyte And gettest vs y^e lyght, through thy prayere To gyden vs vnto thy sonne so dere

My connyng is to weake, O blysful quene For to declare thy hygh worthynesse That I ne may the weyght sustene But as a child of twelue moneth olde or lesse That can vnnethes any worde expresse Ryght so fare I, and therfore I you praye Gydeth my songe, that I shal of you say.

¶Here endeth the Prioresses prologue, and here folo∣weth her tale.

[illustration]

THere was in Asye, in a great cytie Amonges Christen folkes a iewrye Sustayned by a lorde of that countre For foule vsure, and lucre of villany Hateful to Christ, and to hys company And through y^e strete mē myght ryde & wēde For it was free, and open at euery ende

A lytel schole of christen folke there stode Downe at y^e farther end, in which ther were Chyldren an hepe, comen of christen blode That lerned in that schole, yere by yere Suche manere doctrine, as men vsen here Thys is to saye, to synge and to rede As smale chyldren done in her chyldhede

Amōges these childrē was a wedowes son A lytel clergion, that .vij. yere was of age That daye by daye to schole was hys won And also eke, where he sey the ymage Of Christes mother, had he in vsage As hym was taught, to knele adowne & say An Aue maria, as he goeth by the way

Thus hath this wedow, her litel child icauʒt Our blyssed lady, Christes mother dere To worshyp aye, and he foryate it naught For the sely chylde, wolde al day soone lere But aye, whē I remēbre me on thys matere Saint Nicholas stādeth euer in my presence For he so yonge to Christ dyd reuerence

Thys lytel chylde hys lytel boke lernyng As he sate in the schole at hys prymere He (Alma redemptoris mater) herde synge As chyldren lered her antiphonere And as he durst, he drewe aye nere and nece And herkened to the wordes and the note Tyl he the fyrst verse couth al by rote

Nought wyst he what this latin was to say For he so yonge and tender was of age But on a daye hys felowe gan he pray To expoune hym the songe, in his langage Or tellen him why thys songe was in vsage Thys prayde he hym to constre and declare Ful ofte tyme, vpon hys knees bare

Hys felowe, whych that elder was thē he Answerd hym thus, thys song I haue herde say was made of our blessed lady free Her to salewe, and eke her for to prey To ben our helpe & socoure when we dey I can no more erpowne in thys mater I lerne songe, I can but smal grammer

And is thys songe ymade in reuerence Of Christes mother, sayd thys innocent? Nowe certes I wol done my diligence

To tonne it al er Christmasse be went Though that I for my primer shalbe shent And shulde be beten thryse in an houre I wol it conne, our lady to honoure

Hys felowe taught him homewarde priuely Fro daye to daye, tyl he couth it by rote And then he songe it wel and boldely Fro worde to worde, accordynge to the note Twyse a day it passeth through hys throte To scholewarde, & homeward whē he went On Christes mother set was al hys entent

As I haue sayd through out the iewrie Thys lytel chylde as he came to and fro Ful merely then wolde he synge and crye O Alma redemptoris mater, euer mo The swetnesse hath hys herte persed so Of Christes mother, that to her to praye He can not stynte of syngynge by the waye

Our fyrst foe, the serpent Sathanas That in Iewes herte hys waspes nest Vpswale and sayd, O ••brake people alas Is thys a thynge to you that is honest That such a boy shal walke as hym lest In your dyspyte, & syngen of such sentence whych is ayenst your lawes reuerence

¶From thence forth, y^e iewes han conspyred Thys innocent out of thys worlde to chase An homicide therto han they hyred That in an aley, had a priuy place And as the chylde gan forby to pace Thys cursed iewe hym hent, and helde fast And cutte hys throte, & in a pytte hym caste

I say that in a wardrope they him threwe where that the iewes purged her intrayle O cursed folke, of heraudes al newe what may your yuel entent you auayle Murther wol out, certes it wol not fayle And namely ther y^e honour of god shalsprede The bloode out cryeth on your cursed dede

¶O Mater, sowned vnto virginite Now mayst thou synge folowyng euer in on The whyte lambe celestial ({quod} he) Of whiche the great euangelyst saynt Iohn In Pathmos wrot, whiche sayth y^t they gon Before this lambe, & synge asonge all newe That neuer flesshly women they ne knewe.

¶This poore wydowe, awayteh al y^t nyght After her lytel childe, and he came nought For whiche as sone as it was day lyght with face pale, for drede and besy thought She hath at schole, & els where hym sought Tyl fynally, she gan so farre aspye That he was laste seyne in the iurye

wyth mothers pyte, in her breste enclosed She goth as she were halfe out of her mynd To euery place, where she hath supposed By lyklyhede her childe for to fynde And euer on Christes mother, meke & kynde She cryed, and at the last thus she wrought Amonge the cursed iewes she hym sought

She freyneth and she prayeth pytously To euery iewe that dwelleth in thylke place To tellen her, yf her chylde went there by They sayd nay, but Iesu of hys grace Yaue in her thought, wythin a lytel space That in that place, after her sonne she cryde There he was cast, in a pyt besyde

O great god, that perfourmest thy laude By mouth of innocence, lo here thy myght Thys iemme of chastite, thys Emeraude And eke of martyrdome the rubye bryght There he wyth throte yeorne lay vpryght He (Alma redemptoris) gan to synge So loude that al the place gan to rynge

The christen folke, y^t through y^e strete wēt In comen, for to wonder on thys thynge And hastely they for the prouoste sent He came anone, wythout taryenge And heryeth Christ, that is of heuen kynge And eke hys mother, honour of mankynde And after that, the iewes let he bynde

Thys chylde wyth pytous lamentacion was vptaken, syngyng his songe alway And wyth honoure, and great processyon They caryen hym to the next abbey Hys mother swounyng by the bere lay Vnneth myght the people that were there Thys newe Rachel bringe fro his bere

with turmēt & with shamful deth ilke one Thys prouost doth these iewes for to sterue That of thys murder wyste, & that anone He nolde no suche cursednesse obserue

Yuel shal he haue, that yuel wol deserue Therfore w^t wylde horse he dyd hem drawe And afterwarde he honge hem by the lawe

Vpon hys bere aye lyeth thys innocent Beforne the chefe aulter, whyles y^e masse last And after that, the abbot wyth hys couent Hem spedde, for to burye hym als fast And when they holy water on hym cast yet spake y^e child, whē spreit was holy water And songe, O Alma redemptoris mater.

Thys abbot, whych that was an holy man As monkes ben, or els ought to be This yonge chylde to couer he began And sayd: O dere chylde, I haylfe the By vertue of the holy Trinite Tel me what is thy cause for to synge Sythens thy throte is cutte to my semynge.

My throte is cutte, vnto my necke bone Sayd thys chylde, as by waye of kynde I shulde haue deyde, ye longe tyme agone But Iesu Christ, as ye in bokes fynde wol that hys glorye laste and be in mynde And for the worshyp of hys mother dere Yet may I synge (O Alma) loude and clere

This wel of mercy, Christes mother swete I loued alway, as after my connynge And when that I my lyfe shulde forlete To me she came, and bad me for to synge Thys antem verely in my dyenge As ye han herde, & when that I had songe Me thought she layde a grayne vpō my tōge

wherfore I synge, and synge mote certayne In honoure of the blysfull mayden fre Tyl fro my tonge, of taken is the grayne And after that, thus she sayd to me My lytell chylde, nowe wol I fetche the when that the grayne is fro thy tonge ytake Be not agaste, I wol the not forsake.

Thys holy monke, thys abbot him mene I Hys tonge out caught, & toke away y^e graine And he yaue vp the goste ful softly And when thys abbot had thys wōder seyne Hys salt teeres trykled downe as rayne And grofe he fell al platte to the grounde And styll he laye, as he had ben ybounde

The couent lay eke vpon the pament Wepyng and heryeng Christes mother dere And after that they rysen, & forthe ben went And toke away this martyr fro the bere And in a tombe of marble stones clere Enclosen they his lytel body swete There he is nowe, god lene vs for to mete.

O yonge Hewe of Lyncoln slayne also With cursed iewes, as it is notable For it is but a lytel whyle ago Pray eke for vs, we synful folke vnstable That of hys mercy, god be merciable On vs, hys great mercy multiply For the reuerence of his mother Mary.

¶Here endeth the Prioresse tale, and here folowe the wordes of the Host to Chaucer.

WHan sayde was thys myracle, euery man As sobre was, as wōder was to se Tyll that oure hoste to iapen began And than at erste, he loked vpon me And sayd thus: what man arte thou ({quod} he) Thou lokest, as thou woldest fynde an hare For euer vpon the grounde I se the stare

Aproche nere, and loke vp merily Now ware you syrs, & let this mā haue place He in the wast is shapen as wel as I This were a popet in armes to enbrace For any woman, smal and fayre of face He semeth eluyshe by his countenaunce For vnto no wight dothe he dalyaunce

Say now sōwhat, sithēs other folke hā sayd Tel vs a tale of myrthe, and that anon Hoste ({quod} he) ne be not yuel apayde For other tale certes can I none But of a ryme, I lerned yore agone Yea that is good ({quod} he) we shullen it here Som daynte thing, me thinketh by thy chere

¶Here endeth the wordes of the host, and here foloweth the ryme of syr Thopas.

LYsteneth lordinges in good intēt And I wol tel verament Of myrth and of solas Al of a knight was fayre & gent In batayle and in turnament Hys name was syr Thopas Iborne he was in farre countre In Flaundres, al beyonde the see At Poperynge in the place. Hys father was a man ful fre And a lorde he was of that countre As it was goddes grace. Syr Thopas was a doughty swayne whyte was hys face as payne mayne Hys lyppes reed as rose Hys rudde is lyke scarlet in grayne And I you tell in good certayne He had a semely nose. Hys heer, hys berde was lyke safroun That to hys gyrdel raught adoun Hys shone of cordewane Of Bruges were hys hosen broun Hys robe was of chekelatoun That coste many a iane. He couth hunte at the wylde dere And ryde an haukynge forby the ryuere wyth gray goshauke on hande Therto he was a good archere Of wrastlynge was there none hys pere There any Ram shulde stande. Full many a mayde bryght in houre They mourne for hym paramoure when hem were bet to slepe. But he was chaste and no lechoure And swete as is the bramble floure That beareth the reed hype And so byfel vpon a daye Forsoth, as I you tel maye Syr Thopas wolde out ryde. He worth vpon hys stede graye And in hys honde a launce gaye A longe sworde by hys syde He prycketh thorowe a fayre foreste Therin was many a wylde beest Yea both bucke and hare. And as he prycketh north and este I tell you, hym had almeste Betydde a sorye care. There spryngen herbes great and smale The lycores and the setuale And many a clowe gelofer And nutmygges to put in ale whether it be newe or stale Or for to lye in cofer. The byrdes syngen, it is no naye The sperhauke and the popyngaye That ioye it was to here. The throstell eke made hys lay The wodcocke vpon the spray She songe full loude and clere. ¶Syr Thopas fyl in loue longynge And when he herde the throstel synge He prycked as he were wode Hys fayre stede in hys pryckynge So swette, that men myght hym wrynge Hys sydes were all blode. ¶Syr Thopas eke so wery was For prickynge on the softe gras So fyers was hys corage That downe he layde hym in that place To maken hys stede some solace And gaue him good forage. ¶Oh, saynt Mary, benedicite what ayleth thys loue at me To blynde me so sore? Me dremed al thys nyght parde An elfe quene shal my lemman be And slepe vnder my gore. ¶An Elfe quene wol I loue ywys For in thys worlde no woman is worthy to be my make in towne All other women I forsake And to an Elfe quene I me betake By dale and eke by downe. ¶Into hys sadell he clombe anone And pricketh ouer style and stone An Elfe quene for to espye Tyll he so longe hath rydden and gone That he fonde in a pryue wone The countre of Fayrie. So wylde For in that countre nas there none Neyther wyfe ne chylde Tyl hym there came a great Giaunt Hys name was called syr Oliphaunt A peryllous man of dede He sayd chylde, by Termagaunt But yf thou prycke out of my haunt Anone I slee thy steed wyth mace Or euer I go out of thys place ¶Here is the quene of Fayry wyth harpe and pype, and symphony Dwellynge in thys place. The chylde sayd, als so mote I the To morowe wol I meten the

Whan I haue myne armure. And yet I hope par ma faye That thou shalte with this launce gay Abyen it ful sore: Through thy mawe Shal I perce, yf I maye Or it be fully prime of the daye For here thou shalt be slawe. Sir Thopas drowe abacke ful faste This gyaunt at hym stones caste Out of a fel staste slynge But fayre escaped sir Thopace And al was through goddes grace And thorowe hys fayre beryng ¶Yet lysteneth lordynges to my tale Meryer than the nyghtyngale For nowe I wol ye rowne Howe sir Thopas, with sydes smale Prickyng ouer downe and dale Is comen ayen to towne. Hys mery man commaunded he To maken hym bothe game and gle For nedes muste he fyght with a gyaunt, with heedes thre For paramoures and tolyte Of one that shone ful bright. Do come he sayd my mynstrales And iestours, for to tellen vs tales Anon in myne armyng Of romaunces that ben royals Of popes and of cardynals And eke of loue longyng. They fette hym fyrst the swete wyne And meede eke in a mazelyne And royal spycerye Of gynger breed that was ful fyne Of lycores and eke comyne wyth sugre that is trye. He dyd nexte hys whyte lere Of clothe of lake fyne and clere A breche and eke a sherte. And next his sherte an ha••••ton And ouer that an haberion For percyng of hys herte. And ouer that a fyne hauberke was al ywrought of iewes werke Ful stronge it was of plate And ouer that hys core armoure As whyte as is the lylly floure In whiche he wolde debate. His shylde was al of golde so reed And therin was a bores heed A carbocle by his syde. And there he swore on ale and breed Howe that the gyaunt shulde be deed Betyde what betyde. His tambeux were of cure buly His swordes shethe of yuorie His helme of laton bright His sadel was of ruel bone His bridel as the sunne shoue Or as the moone light His spere was of fyne sypres That byddeth warre, & nothyng pees The heed ful sharpe ygrounde His stede was al dappel gray He gothe an aumble by the way Ful softely and rounde in londe. ¶Lo lordes myne, here is a fyt If ye wol any more of it To tellen it wol I fonde.

NOwe holde your mouthe for cha••rite Bothe knight and lady fre And herkeneth to my spel Of batayle and of cheualrye And of ladyes loue diery Anon I wol you tel. Men sp••ken of Romaunces of pris Of Hornechilde, and of I potys Of Beuys, and of syr Gye Of syr Lybeaur, and Blayndamoure But sir Thopas, he bereth the floure Of royal cheualrye. His good stede he be strode And forthe vpon his way glode As sparke out of the bronde. Vpon his creste he bare a toure And therin stycked a lilly floure God shylde his cors fro shonde And for he was a knyght auentrouse He nolde slepen in none house But lygge in his hood. His bright helme was hys wangre And by hym fedde hys destper Of herbes fyne and good Hym selfe dronke water of the well As dyd the knight sir Persyuel So worthy vnder wede.

¶Here endeth the ryme of syr Tho∣pas, and beginneth the wordes of oure Hoste.

No more of thys for goddes dignite ({quod} our hoost) for thou makest me So wery of thy very leudenesse That also wysly god my soule blesse Myne eares aken of thy drafty speche Nowe suche a ryme, the dyuell I beteche Thys may wel be cleped ryme dogrel ({quod} he) why so ({quod} I) why wolt thou let me More of my tale, then any other man Sens that it is the best ryme I can? By God ({quod} he) playnly at o worde Thy drafty rymynge is not worth a torde Thou doest nought els but spendest tyme Syr at one worde, thou shalt no lēger ryme Let se whether thou canst tell ought in geste Or tel in prose somwhat at the leste In which ther may be som myrth or doctrine Gladly ({quod} I) by goddes swete pyne I woll you tell a lytell thynge in prose That ought lyke you, as I suppose Or els ye be certes to daungerous It is a morall tale vertuous Albe it tolde somtyme in sondry wyse Of sondrye folke, as I shall you deuyse As thus, ye wote that euery euangelyste That telleth vs the payne of Iesu Christe Ne sayth not al thynge as hys felowe doth But nathelesse her sentente is al soth And al accorden in her sentence Al be there in her tellynge dyfference For some of hem sayne more, and some lesse when they hys pytouse passion expresse I meane of Marke, Mathen, Luke, & Iohn But doutlesse her sentence is al one Therfore lordynges, I you beseche Yf that ye thynke I vary in my speche As thus, though I tell somwl, at more Of prouerbes, then ye han herde byfore Comprehended in thys lytel treatyse here To enforcen wyth the effecte of my matere And though I not the same wordes saye As ye han herde, yet to all you I praye Blameth me not, for in my sentence Sul ye not fynde mochel dyfference Fro the sentence of thys treatyse lyte After the whych, thys mery tale I wryte And therfore herkeneth, what I shall saye And let me tell my tale I you praye.

¶Here ende the wordes of our host and here begynneth Chaucers tale of Melibeus.

A Yonge mā called Me∣libeus, myghtye and ryche, begat vpon hys wyfe that called was Prudence, a doughter which that called was Sophye.

¶Vpon a daye byfell that he for his dysport is wente into the feldes hym to playe: Hys wyfe and eke hys doughter hath he left with in hys house, of whyche the dores were faste yshette. Foure of hys olde foes han it aspyde, and settē ladders to the walles of hys house, and by the wyndowes ben entred, & bete his wyfe, and wounded hys doughter with fyue mortall woundes, in fyue sondrye places: That is to saye, in her fete, in her handes, in her eeres, in her nose, & in her mouth, & leften her for deed, and wente her waye.

When Melibeus retourned was into hys house, and se all thys myschefe, he lyke a madde mā rentyng hys clothes, gan to wepe and crye.

Prudence hys wyfe, as ferforth as she durste besought hym of hys wepynge for to stynte: But not for thy he gan to wepe & crye euer lenger the more.

Thys noble wyfe Prudence remembred her vpon the sentence of Ouyde, in hys boke that cleped is the remedye of loue, where as he sayeth, he is a foole that dystourbeth the mother to wepe in the death of her chylde tyl she haue wept her fyll, as for a certayne tyme and then shall a man done diligence wyth a∣miable wordes to recomforte and praye her of her wepynge for to stynte. For whych rea∣son thys noble wyfe Prudence, suffred her husbonde to wepe and crye, as for a certayne space: and when she sawe her tyme, she sayd hym in thys wyse. Alas my lorde (quoth she) why make ye your selfe for to be like a foole? forsoth it apperteyneth not vnto a wyse man to maken suche a sorowe. Youre doughter wyth the grace of God, shall waryshe and escape. And all were it so that she ryght now were deed, ye ne oughte not as for her death

your selfe distroye. Seneke saythe, the wyse man shal not take to gret discomforte for the dethe of hys children, but certes he shuld suf∣fre it in paciēce, as wel as he abydeth y^e deth of hys owne proper person.

¶Thys Mellebeus answerde anon and sayd: what man ({quod} he) shuld of hys wepynge stynt, that hath so great a cause for to wepe? Iesus hym selfe our lorde, wepte for y^e dethe of Lazarus hys frende. Prudence answerd, certes wel I wote a temperate wepynge is nothyng defended to hym that sorouful is, a∣monge folke in sorowe, but it is rather graū∣ted hym to wepe. The apostel Poule vnto y^e Romans writeth, men shuld reioyce with hē that maketh ioye, and wepe with suche folke as wepen. But though a temperate wepyng be graunted, certes outragyous wepynge is defended. Mesure of wepyng shulde be cōsy∣dred after the lore that techeth vs Sencke. Whan that thy frende is deed ({quod} he) let not thyne eyen to moist ben of teeres, ne to moch drie: although teeres comen to thyn eyen, let hem not fal. And whan thou hast forgon thy frende, do diligence to gette a nother frende: and this is more wisdom thā for to wepe for thy frende which thou hast lorne, for therin is no bote. And therfor yf ye gouerne you by sapience, put away sorowe out of your herte. Remembreth you that Iesus Sirake sayth, a man that is ioyus and glad in herte, it him conserueth storishyng in hys age: but sothely a sorowful here maketh hys bones drie. He sayth eke thus, that sorowe in herte sleeth ful manye a man. Salomon sayth, that right as moughthes in the shepes sleyse anoyeth the clothes, and the smale wormes y^t tree, ryght so anoyeth sorowe the hert of man, wherfore vs ought as wel in the dethe of our children, as in the losse of our temporal goodes, haue pacience.

Remembre you vpon pacient Iobe, whā he had loste hys children and hys temporal substaunce, and in hys body endured and re∣ceyued ful many a greuous trybulacion, yet sayde he thus: Oure lorde it sent to me, oure lorde hath byrafte it me, right so as our lorde wold, right so it be done, iblessed be the name of our lorde.

To these forsayd thinges Melibeus vnto hys wyfe Prudence answerd: Al thy wordes ({quod} he) ben true, and therto profytable, but truely myn herte is troubled with this sorow so greuously, that I not what to do. Let cal ({quod} Prudence) youre true frendes al and thy lynage, which that ben wyse, & telleth to hem your case, & herkeneth what they say in coun∣saylyng, and gouerne you after her sentence. Salomon saythe, werke all thy thynges by counsayle, & thou shalte neuer rue. Than by coūsayle of his wife Prudēce, this Melibeus let caule a great congrygacion of people, as surgyens, physicions, olde folke and yong, & some of hys olde enemyes reconciled (as by her semblant) to hys loue and to hys grace: And therwithal ther came some of his neigh¦bours, that dyd hym reuerēce more for drede thā for loue, as it happeth oft. There comen also ful many subtyl flaterers, & wyse aduo∣cates lerned in the law. And whā these folke togyders assembled were, this Melibeus in sorowfull wyse shewed hem his case, and by the maner of his speche, it semed that in herte he bare a cruel yre, redy to don vengeaunce vpon hys foos, & sodainly he desyred y^t we••e shulde begyn, but nathelesse yet asked he coun¦sayle vpon this mater. A surgyen by lycence and assent of suche as were wyse vp rose, and vnto Melibeus sayd as ye shal here.

¶Sir ({quod} he) as to vs surgiens apertay∣neth that we do to euery wight the best that we can, where as we ben withholdē, & to our pacient that we don no damage: wherfore it happeth many tyme & ofte, that whan two men haue eueriche wounded other, one sur∣gyen healeth hem both, wherfore vnto oure arte it is not pertinēt to norishe werre, ne par¦ties to supporte. But certes as to the warys∣shyng of your doughter, al be it so that peril∣ously she be wounded, we shal do so tentyfe besynesse fro day to night that with y^e grace of god she shal ben hole and sounde, as sont as is possible. Almost right in the same wyse the physiciens answerd, saue that they sayde a fewe wordes more: That ryght as mala∣dies ben by her contraries cured, right so shal man warisshe werre by peace. Hys neygh∣bours full of enuye, hys fayned frendes that semed reconciled, and his flatterers, maden semblaūce of wepyng, & enpayred and agrut∣ched moche of this mater, in praysinge great¦ly Melibe of might, of power, of richesse and of frendes, dispysing the power of his aduer∣saries: and sayd vtterly, that he anon shulde

wreken hym on hys foos, and begyn warre.

Vp rose then an aduocat that was wyse byleue and by counsayle of other that were wyse, and sayd: The nede for the whych we bene assembled in thys place, is a full heuye thynge, & a great mater bycause of y^e wronge and of the wyckednesse that hath be done, & eke by reason of great damages that in tyme commynge ben possyble to fallen for y^e same, and eke by reason of the great rychesse and po¦wer of the partyes both, for the whyche rea∣sons it were a full greate peryll to erren in thys matter. Wherfore Melibeus thys is oure sentence, we counsayle you abouen all thynge, that ryghte anone thou do thy dely∣gence in kepynge of thy proper persone, in suche a wyse that thou ne wante none espye ne watche, thy bodye for to saue: And after that we counsayle that in thyne house thou ••et suffyciēt garryson, so as they may as well thy bodye as thy house defende: but certes to mouen warre, or to done sodeynly vengeaūce we maye not deme in so lytel tyme y^t it were profytable, wherfore we aske leyser & space to haue delyberacion in thys case to deme, for the commen prouerbe sayeth thus: He that sone demeth sone shall repente. And eke men sayne, thylke iudge is wyse that sone vnder∣standeth a matter, and iugeth by leyser: For all be it taryenge be noyfull, algate it is not to be reproued in yeuynge of iudgemente, ne in vengeaunce takynge, when it is sufficyent and resonable. And that shewed oure Lorde Iesu Christe by ensample, for when the wo∣man was takē in auoutry and was brought in hys presens to knowen what shulde be done of her persone, al be it that he wyst wel hym self what he wold answere, yet ne wold he not answere sodeynly, but he wolde haue delyberacion, and in the grounde he wrote twyse, and by thys cause we asken delybera∣tion: and we shall then by the grace of God coūsayle you y^t thynge that shalbe profytable

Vp sterte then the yonge folke at ones, & y^e moste parte of that company haue scorned thys olde wyse man, and begā to make noyse and sayde. Ryght so as whyles that yron is hote men shulde smyte, ryghte so men shulde wreken her wronges whyle that they bene freshe and newe, and wyth loude voyce they tryed warre warre. Vp rose tho one of y^e old wyse, & wyth hys hande made coūtenaunce that they shulde holdē hem styl & yeuen hym audience. Lordynges ({quod} he) ther is ful many a man that cryeth warre warre, y^e wote full lyte what warre amounteth. Warre at hys begynnynge hath so great an entryng and so large, that euery wyght may entre whē hym liketh, & lightly fynd warre: but certes what ende therof shal fal, it is not lightly to know. When y^e warre is ones bygon, there is full many a chylde vnborne of hys mother, y^t shal sterue yōge bycause of thilke warre, other els lyue in sorowe, or dye in wretchednesse: And therfore or y^t any warre be bygon, men muste haue great counsayle & good delyberation. And when thys olde man wende to enforcen hys tale by reson, well nye all at ones bygon for to ryse for to breken hys tale, & byddē him ful ofte hys wordes for to abrege: For certes he y^t precheth to hem that lyst not to here his wordes, his sermō hem anoyeth. For Iesus Syrake sayth, y^t weping in musyke is a noy∣ous thynge. This is as moch to say, as moch auayleth it to speake byforne folke to which his speche anoyeth, as it is for to syngen by∣forne hem that wepe. And when thys wyse man sawe y^t him wāted audiēce, al shamfaste he set him adowne ayen. For Salomō sayth. There as thou mayst not haue audience, en∣force the not to speake. I se wel ({quod} thys wyse man) that the cōmen prouerbe is soth, y^t good counsayle wanteth, when it is moste nede.

Yet had thys Melibeus in hys counsayle many folke, that priuely in hys eere counsay∣led hym certayne thynges, and counsayled hym the contrary in general audience. when Melibeus had herde that the greatest parte of hys counsayle were accorded that he shuld make warre, anone he consented to her coū∣saylynge, and fully affyrmed her sentence. Then dame Prudence, when that she sawe her husbonde shope hym for to awreke hym on hys enemyes, & to begyn warre: she in ful hūble wyse, when she sawe her tyme sayd to hym these wordes. My lord ({quod} she) I you be seche as hertely as I dare or can, ne hast you not to fast, and for all guerdons yeue me au∣diēce. For Peter Alphōs sayth. Who so doth to the good or harme, hast the not to quyte it for in thys wyse thy frende woll abyde, and thyne enemye shall the lenger lyue in drede. The prouerbe sayth, he hasteth wel y^t wisely can abyde: And in wycked hast is no profyte.

Thys Melibe answered to hys wyfe pru¦dence: I purpose not (quoth he) to werke by thy counsayle, for many causes and reasons, for certes euery wyght wolde holde me then a foole. Thys is to saye, yf I for thy counsay¦lynge wolde chaunge thynges that bene or∣dayned and affyrmed by so many wyse. Se∣condly, I saye that all women bene wycked, and none good of hem all. For of a thousande men sayeth Salomon, I founde one good man: but certes of all women foūde I neuer none. And also certes, yf I gouerned me by thy counsayle, it shulde seme that I had yeue the ouer me the maystrye: and God forbyd y^t it so were. For Iesus Syracke sayeth, that yf the wyfe haue maystrye, she is contrarious to her husbande. And Salomon sayeth. Ne∣uer in thy lyfe to thy wyfe, ne to thy chylde, ne to thy frende, ne yeue no power ouer thy selfe, for better it were that thy chyldren aske of thy thinges that hem nedeth then thy selfe to be in the handes of thy chyldren. And also yf I woll werche by thy coūsayle, certes my counsayle must be somtyme secret til it were tyme that it muste be knowen: and thys ne maye not be, yf I shulde be counsayled by the. When dame Prudence full debonairly and with great paciēce, had herde al that her husbonde lyked for to saye, then asked she of hym lycence for to speake, and sayd in thys wyse. My lorde (quoth she) as to youre fyrste reason, it maye lyghtly ben answered. For I saye that it is no folye to chaunge counsayle, when the thynge is chaunged, or els when y^e thynge semeth otherwyse thē it semed afore. And more ouer I saye, thoughe that ye haue sworne and behyght to performe youre em∣pryse, & by iuste cause ye do it not: men shulde not saye therfore ye were a lyer & forsworne For the boke sayeth, that the wyse man ma∣keth no lesynge, when he turneth hys corage for the better. And albeit that your empryse be establyshed and ordeyned by great multy∣tude of folke, yet dare you not accomplyshe thylke ordynaunce but you lyketh: for the trouth of thynges and the profyte ben rather founden in fewe folke that ben wyse and full of reason, then by greate multytude of folke, there euery man cryeth and clattereth what hym lyketh: sothly suche multytude is not ho¦nest. And as to the seconde reason, where as ye saye, that all womē ben wycked: saue your grace. Certes ye dyspyse all women in thys wyse, and he that all despyseth, as sayeth the boke, all dyspleaseth. And Senecke sayeth, that who so woll haue sapience, shal no man dysprayse, but he shall gladlye teache the sci∣ence that he can, wythout presumption or pryde: and suche thynges as he nought ne can, he shall not ben ashamed to lerne hem, & to enquyre of lesse folke then hym selfe. And that there hath bene many a good woman, maye lyghtly be proued: For certes syr our Lorde Iesu Christ nolde neuer haue descen∣ded to be borne of a woman, yf al womē had be wycked. And after that, for y^e great bounte that is in womē, our lorde Iesu Christ, whē he was rysen fro death to lyfe, apered rather to a womā then to his apostles. And though that Salomon sayde, he founde neuer wo∣men good, it foloweth not therfore that all women be wycked: for thoughe that he ne founde no good woman, certes many an o∣ther man hathe founde many a woman full good and trewe. Or els parauenture the en¦tente of Salomon was thys, that in soue∣rayne bountye he founde no woman, thys is to saye: that there is no wyght that hath par¦fyte bountye saue God alone, as he hym selfe recordeth in hys euangelye. For there nys no creature so good that hym ne wanteth som∣what of the perfection of God that is hys maker. Youre thyrde reason is thys, ye saye that yf that yt gouerne you by my counsayle it shulde seme that ye had yeue me the may∣strye and the lordshyppe of youre persone. Syr saue youre grace it is not so, for yf so were that no man shulde be counsayled but onely of hem that han lordshyppe and may∣strye of hys persone, men nolde not be coun∣sayled so ofte. For sothly thylke man that as∣keth counsayle of a purpose, yet hathe he free wyl whether he woll do after that counsayle or none. And as to your fourth reason, there as ye sayne that the ianglerye of women can hyde thinges that they wote not, as who say¦eth, that a woman can not hide that she wote Syr, these wordes ben vnderstande of wo∣men that ben ianglers and wycked, of which women men sayne that thre thynges dryuen a mā out of hys house, that is to saye, smoke droppynge of rayne, and wycked wyues. And of suche women Salomon sayeth, that a man were better dwell in deserte, then

wyth a woman that is riottous. And syr by your leaue it am not I, for ye haue ful oft assayde my great sylence and my greate paci∣ence, and eke howe well that I can hyde and heale thynges that men oughten secretly to hyden. And sothly as to youre fyfth reason, where as ye saye that in wycked counsayle women venquyshe men: God wote that thylke reason stante here in no stede: for vn∣derstandeth, nowe ye asken counsayle for to do wyckednesse: And yf ye wolde werken wyckednesse, & your wyfe restrayneth thylke wycked purpose, and ouercome you by rea∣son and by good counsayle, certes your wyfe oughte rather to be praysed then blamed. Thus shuld ye vnderstande the philosopher that sayeth, in wycked counsayle women venquyshe her husbandes. And there as ye blame all women and her reasons, I shall shewe you by many ensamples that manye women haue be full good, and yet bene, and her counsayle holsome and profytable. Eke some men haue sayde that the counsayle of women is eyther to dere, or to lytell worthe But all be it so that full many women bene badde, and her counsayle vyle and noughte worthe, yet han men foūde full many a good woman, and full dyscrete and wyse in coun∣saylynge. Lo Iacob through the counsayle of hys mother Rebecke, wanne the benyson of hys father, and y^e lordshyp of all hys bre∣thren. Iudith through her good counsayle, delyuered the cyte of Bethule, in whyche she dwelt, out of the hāde of Holoferne that had it al beseged, and wolde haue dystroyed it. A∣bigayle delyuered Naball her husbande fro Dauid the kynge, that wold haue slayne him and apeased the yre of the kynge by her wyte and by her good counsayle. Hester by her coū∣sell enhaunsed greatly y^e people of god in the raygne of Assuerus the kynge. And the same bountye in good coūsaylyng of many a good woman may men rede and tell. And further∣more when that our lorde had created Adam oure former father, he sayd in thys wyse: It is not good a man to be alone: make we an helper to hym selfe semblable. Here maye ye se that yf that women were not good, and her counsayle good and profytable, our lorde god of heuen ne wolde neither han wrought hem, ne called hem the helper of man, but ra∣ther confusyon to man.

And there sayde a clerke ones in two ver∣ses. What is better thē gold? Iasper. What is better then Iasper? wysedome. And what is better then wysedome? womā. And what is better then a good woman? that is a good man. And what is better then a good man? nothynge. And syr, by many other reasons maye ye sene, that many women bene good, and eke her counsayle good and profytable. And therfore syr, yf that ye woll truste to my counsayle, I shall restore you your doughter hole and sounde, and eke that I woll do you so moche, that ye shall haue honoure in thys case.

When Melibe had herde the wordes of hys wyfe prudence, he sayd thus. I se well that wordes of Salomon be soth. For he say¦eth, the wordes that be spoken dyscretlye by ordynaunce bene honycombes, for they yuen swetnesse to the soule, and holsomnesse to the bodye. And wyfe bycause of thy swete wor∣des, and eke for I haue proued and assayed thy greate sapience and thy greate trouthe: I woll gouerne me by thy counsayle in all thynge.

Nowe syr (quoth dame Prudence) and sythens that ye vouchsafe to be gouerned by my counsayle, I woll enfourme you howe that ye shall gouerne youre selfe in chosynge of your counsaylours. Ye shall fyrste in all youre werke mekelye besechynge to the hye God that he wolde be your counsaylour, and shapeth you to suche entent that he yeue you counsayle and comforte, as taught Thobye hys sonne. At all tymes thou shalte blysse God, and praye hym to dresse thy wayes, and loke eke that thy counsayles ben in hym euer more. Saynt Iames sayeth, yf anye man of you haue nede of sapience, aske it of God. And afterwarde, then shullen ye take counsayle in youre selfe, and examyne well youre owne thoughtes, of suche thynges as you thynketh that ben best for youre profyte. And then shall ye dryue frō your herte thyn∣ges that be cōtrarious to good coūsayle: that is to saye, yre, couetous, and hastynesse.

Fyrste he that asketh counsayle of hym selfe, certes he muste be wythouten yre and wrath in hym self for many causes. The fyrst is thys: He that hath greate yre and wrathe in him selfe, he weneth alwaye that he maye do the thynge y^t he may not do. And secōdly,

he that is yrous and wrothfull, he maye not wel deme: And he that maye not wel deme, maye not well counsell. The thyrde is thys, he that is yrous & wroth, as sayeth Seneke, maye not speake but blamefull thynges, and wyth thylke vycious wordes he styreth o∣ther folke to anger and to yre. And eke syr ye muste dryue couetyse out of your herte. For the Apostle sayeth, that couetyse is the roote of all harmes. And trusteth ryght wel that a couetous man ne can not deme ne thynke but only to fulfyll the ende of hys couetyse: & cer∣tes that ne maye neuer be accomplyshed, for euermore, the more aboūdaunce that he hath of rychesses, the more he desyreth. And syr, ye muste also dryue out of your herte hastynes: For certes ye maye not deme for the best a so dayne thought that falleth in your herte, but ye muste auyse you on it full ofte: For as ye haue herde here byfore, the comē prouerbe is thys. He that sone demeth, sone repenteth.

Syr, ye ne be not alwaye in lyke dysposi∣cion, for certes some thynge that semeth som¦tyme to you y^t is good for to do, an other time it semeth to you the contrarye.

And when ye han taken counsaile in your selfe, and han demed by good delyberacion suche thynge as you semeth beste, then rede I you that ye kepe it secrete. Bewraye ye not your counsayl to no persone, but yf so be that ye wene sekerly that through youre bewray∣eng, your cōdicion shalbe to you the more pro¦fytable. For Iesus Syrack sayeth: neyther to thy foe ne to thy frende dyscouer not thy se∣crete, ne thy folye: for they wol yeue you au∣dience and lokynge, & supportacion in youre presence, and scorne you in your absence. An other clerke sayth, that scarsly shal you fynde any persone that maye kepe coūsayle secretly The boke sayeth, whyle that thou kepest thy counsayle in thyne herte, thou kepest it in thy pryson: and when thou bewrayest thy coun∣sayl to any wyght, he holdeth y^t in hys snare And therfore you is better to hyde your coū∣sayle in your herte, then to pray hym to whō ye haue bewrayed your counsayle, y^t he woll kepe it close styl. For Seneca sayth: Yf so be y^t thou mayst not thyne owne counsayle hyde, howe darste thou praye any other wight thy counsayle secrete to kepe. But nathelesse yf thou wene sykerly that the bewrayeng of thy counsayle to a persone woll make thy condy∣cion stonde in y^e better plyght, then shalt thou tell hym thy counsayle in thys wyse. Fyrst thou shalte make no semblaunt whether the were leuer peace or warre, or thys or that, ne shewe hym not thy wyll ne thyne entent: for trust well that comenly these coūsaylers ben flatterers, namely the counsaylers of greate lordes, for they enforce hem alway rather to speake pleasaunt wordes, enclynynge to the lordes luste, then wordes that bene trewe or profytable, and therfore men saye y^t the rych man hath selde good coūsayle, but yf he haue it of hym selfe. And after that thou shalt con∣syder thy frendes and thyne enemyes. And as touchynge thy frendes, thou shalte consy∣der whych of hem ben moste faythful & most wyse, and eldest, and moste approued in coū∣saylynge: and of hem shalt thou aske thy coū¦sayle, as the case requyreth.

I saye, that fyrst ye shal call to your coun∣sayle your frendes that ben trewe. For Salo¦mon sayeth: that ryght as the herte of a man delyteth in sauoure that is sote, ryght so the counsayle of trewe frendes yeueth swetnesse to the soule. And he sayeth also, there may no thynge be lykened to the trewe frēde: For cer¦tes golde ne syluer be not so moche worth as the good wyll of a trewe frende. And also he sayeth that a trewe frende is a stronge defēce who so that it fyndeth hath a great treasure. Then shall ye also consyder yf that your true frendes be dyscrete and wyse: for the boke say¦eth, aske alwaye thy counsayle of them that ben wyse. And by thys same reason shall ye call to your counsayle your frendes that ben of age, suche as seme and ben experte in ma∣ny thynges, and ben approued in coūsaylyng For the boke sayeth, that in olde men is sapi∣ence, and in longe tyme the prudence. And Tullius sayeth, that great thynges bene not aye accomplyshed by strength ne by delyuer∣nesse of body, but by coūsayle, by auctorite of persones, and by science: the whych thre thin¦ges ne ben not feoble by age, but certes they enforce, and encrease daye by daye, and then shall ye kepe thys for a generall rule. Fyrste shall ye call to your counsayle a fewe of your frendes that ben especial. For Salomon say¦eth, many frendes haue thou, but amonge a thousande chose the one to be thy coūsaylour for al be it so that thou fyrst ne tell thy coun∣sayle but to a fewe, thou mayste afterwarde

tel it to mo folke yf it be nede. But loke al∣way that thy counsaylers haue those condi∣cions that I haue sayd before, that is to saye, that they be trewe, wyse, and of olde experi∣ence. And werke not alway in euery nede by one counsayler alone: for somtyme behoueth it to be counsayled by many. For Salomon saythe, saluaciō of thynges is where as there be many counsaylers.

¶Nowe haue I tolde you of which folke ye shall be counsayled: Nowe wol I tel you whiche counsayle ye ought to eschue. Fyrste ye shall eschue the counsaylynge of fooles. Salomon sayth, take no counsayle of a foole for he wol counsayle but after his owne lust and hys affection. The boke saythe, that the propertie of a foole is this: He troweth light¦ly harme of euery man, and lightly troweth al bountie in him selfe. Thou shalt eschue the counsaylyng of al flatterers, which as enfor∣cē hem rather to prayse your persone by slat∣terye, than for to tell you the sothfastnesse of thynges. Wherfore, Tullius saith, amonge al the pestelencie that ben in frendshyp, the greatest is flaterye. And therfore it is more nede that thou eschue and drede flaterers, thā any other people. The boke sayth, thou shalt rather flee fro the swete wordes of flatering and praysynge, than fro the eygre wordes of thy frendes that sayth the sothes. Salomon sayth, that the wordes of a flaterer is a snare to catche innocence. He sayth also, he that spe∣keth to his frende wordes of flatery & of ple∣saunce, he setteth a nette beforne hys fete to catche hym. And therfore Tullius sayth. En∣clyne not thyne eares to flatterers. And Ca∣ton saythe. Auyse the wel, and eschue y^e wor∣des of swetnesse and of pleasaunce. And eke thou shalt eschue the counsaylynge of thyne olde enemyes that ben reconciled. The boke saythe, that no wight retourneth safely in to the grace of his olde enemy. And Esope saith ne trust not to hem, to whiche thou hast som∣tyme had werre or enemyte, ne tell hem not thy counsayle. And Seneke telleth the cause why it may not be, for he saith, there as great fyre hath longe tyme endured, y^t there dwel∣leth some vapoure of hete. And therfore saith Salomon, in thyn olde foe trust thou neuer. For sikerly though thy enemy be reconciled and make the sygne of humilite, and lout to the with hys heed, truste hym neuer: for cer∣tes he maketh thilke fayned humylite more for hys profyte than for any humilite, or for any loue of thy person, bycause y^t he demeth to haue victorie ouer thy persone, by suche fayned countynaunce, the whych vyctorie he myght not haue by stryfe or werre. And Pe∣trus Alphons saith, make no felowship with thyne olde enemyes, for yf thou do hem boun¦tye, they wollen peruerte it to wyckednesse. And eke thou must eschue the counsaylynge of hem that ben thy seruauntes, and beren y^e gret reuerence: for parauenture they sayen it more for drede. than for loue. And therfore saythe a philosopher in this wyse. There is no wyght parfetly true to hym y^t he dredeth And Tullius saith, there is no might so great of any emperour that longe may endure, but he haue loue of the people and drede. Ye shall eschue also the counsaylyng of folke that ben dronklewe, for they ne can no coūsayle hyde. For Salomon saythe, there nys no priuyte ther as reygneth dronknesse, ye shal haue also in suspecte the counsaylyng of suche folke as counsayle you one thynge priuely, and coun∣sayle you the contrary openly. For Cassidorie saith, that it is a maner sleight to hynder his enemye whan he sheweth to done a thynge openly, and werketh priuely the contrarye. Thou shalte haue also in suspecte the coun∣saylyng of wycked folke, that be alway ful of fraude. And Dauid saythe, that blisful is the man that hath not folowed the counsaylyng of shrewes.

Thou shalte also eschue the counsaylynge of yonge folke, for her counsaylynge is not rype, as Salomon saythe.

¶Nowe sir, sythens, I haue shewed you of suche folke as ye shal be counsayled of, and folowe it: nowe woll I teche you howe ye shal examyne your counsayle. After the doc∣tryne of Tullius, in examenynge of youre counsayloures, ye shall consydere manye thynges.

Fyrst thou shalt cōsyder thylke thyng that thou purposest, and vpon that thynge y^t thou wolt haue counsayle, that very trouth be said and cōserued, this is to say, tel truely thy tale for he that sayth false, may not well be coun∣sayled in that case, of whiche he lyeth. After this thou shalte consyder the thynges that a∣corden to that thou purposest for to do by thy coūsaylours, if reason accorde therto, and eke

yf thy might maye attayne therto, and if the more parte and the better parte of your coun¦saylours accorden therto or no. Than shalte Thou consyder what thynge shal folowe of her coūsaylinge: As hate, peace, werre, grace profyte, or damage, and many other thinges: and in al thynges thou shalte chose the beste, and weyue al other thynges. Thā shalt thou consyder of what rote is engendred the ma∣ter of thy counsayle, and what fruite it maye conceyue and engender. Thou shalt eke con∣syder al thy causes, frome whence they be spronge. And whan thou hast examyned thy counsayle, as I haue sayd, and whiche party is the better and more profytable, and haste approued it by many wyse folke & olde, than thou shalt consyder, yf thou mayste performe it, & make of it a good ende. For certes reson wol not that any mā shal begyn a thyng, but yf he myght performe it as hym ought, ne no wight shuld take vpon hym so heuy a charge but that he might beare it. For the prouerbe sayth, he that to moch enbraceth distrayneth lytel. And Caton saythe, assay to do such thin¦ges as thou haste power to done, leste the charge oppresse the to sore, that the behoueth weyue the thyng that thou haste begon. And yf so be that thou be in dout, whether thou mayst perfourme a thynge or none, chose ra∣ther for to suffre than to begynne. And Peter Alphons saythe, yf thou haste myght to do a thynge, of whiche thou muste repente, it is better holde thy tonge styl than for to speke. Than mayst thou vnderstonde by stronger resons, that yf thou haste power to perfour∣me a werke, of which thou shalt repente the, than is it better thou suffre than begyn. Wel sayne they that defenden euery wyght to as∣saye a thyng of which he is in doute whether he may performe it or none. And after whan ye haue examined your counsayle (as I haue sayde before) and know wel, that ye maye per¦forme your emprise: conferme it thā sadly tyl it be at an ende.

¶Nowe it is reason & tyme that I shewe you, whan & wherfore that ye maye chaunge your counsayle, wythouten reprofe. Soth∣ly a man may chaunge hys purpose and hys counsayle, yf the cause ceaseth, or whan a newe case betydeth. For the lawe sayth, that vpon thinges that newly betyden, behoueth newe counsayle. And Seneke saythe, yf thy counsayle is come to the eeres of thyne ene∣myes, chaunge thy counsayle. Thou mayste also chaunge thy coūsayle, yf so be thou fynde that by errour or by anye other cause, harme or damage may betyde. Also yf thy counsayle be dyshonest, other els come of dyshonest cause, chaunge thy counsayle. For the lawe saythe, that al behestes that be dishonest, ne ben of no value: And eke, yf so be that it be vnpossyble or may not gladly be parformed or kepte.

And take thys for a general rule, that eue∣ry counsayle that is enfourmed so strongly, that it may not be chaunged for no condyci∣on that may betyde, I say that ilke counsayle is wycked.

MElibeus, whan he hadde herde the doctryne of hys wife dame Prudēce answerde in thys wyse. Dame ({quod} he) as yet vnto this tyme ye han well taught me, as in gouernayle howe I shall gouerne me in the chosynge and in the wytholdynge of my counsayle: but nowe wolde I fayne y^t ye wolde condiscende in especial, howe that ye semeth by our counsaylours that we haue chose in this present nede.

¶My lorde ({quod} she) I beseche you in all humblesse, that ye wol not wylfully replye ayenst my reasons, ne distemper youre herte though I speke the thynge y^t you displese, for god wote as in myne entent, I speke it as for your beste and for your honoure and profyte eke, and sothly I hope that your benygnyte wol take it in pacience. And trusteth me wel that your counsayle in this case ne shuld not (as to speke properly) be called a counsay∣lyng, but a mocion or a mouynge of folye, in which counsayle ye haue erred in many a son¦drie wyse.

Fyrst ye haue erred in the assemblynge of your counsaylours: For fyrst ye shulde haue cleped a fewe folke to your counsayle, and af∣ter ye might haue shewed it to mo, yf it had be nede. But ye haue cleped to your counsayl a great multytude of people, ful chargeous and ful noyous for to here. Also ye haue er∣red, for there as ye shulde haue onely cleped to your counsayle your trewe frendes, olde and wyse, ye haue cleped straunge folke, yonge folke, false flatterers, and enemyes reconcyled, and folke that done you reuerēce

withouten loue. And eke ye haue erred, for ye haue brought with you to your counsayle ire couetyse, and hastynesse, the which thre thyn∣ges ben contrary to euerye good counsayle, honest and profytable, the whiche thre thyn∣ges ye haue not distroyed neyther in youre selfe ••e in your counsaylours, as ye ought. Ye haue erred also for ye haue shewed to your counsaylours your talent and your affectiōs to make werre anon, & for to do vengeaunce, & they haue espyde by your wordes, to what thyng ye ben enclyned: & therfore haue they rather counsayled you to your talente, than to your profite. Ye han erred eke, for it semeth that you suffyseth to haue be counsayled by these counsailours onely, and with lytel auy∣sement, where as in so hye and in so great a nede, it had ben necessary mo counsaylours, and more delyberacion to performe your em∣prise. Ye hā erred also, for ye haue not examy∣ned your counsayle in the forsayd maters, ne in dewe maner as the case requireth. Ye haue erred also, for ye made no diuision bytwene your true frendes & your fayned coūsaylours ne ye haue not knowē y^e wil of your trew coū¦saylours, & frendes, olde, & wyse, but ye haue caste al her wordes in an hochepot & encyned your herte to the more parte and to the gret∣ter nombre of fooles than of wyse men. And therfore the counsaylynges that ben at con∣gregacions and multitudes of folke, there as men take more regarde to the nomber than to the sapiēce of persons, ye sene wel, that in such counsaylinges, fooles han the maistrye. Melibe answerde and sayd ayen: I graunt wel that I haue erred, but there as thou hast tolde me here byforne, y^t he nys not to blame that chaungeth his coūsayle in certayne case and for certayne and iuste cause, I am al redy to chaunge my counsaylours ryght as thou woldest deuyse. The prouerbe saythe, for to done synne is mannysshe, but certes for to perceuer longe in synne, is a werke of the dy∣uell.

To thys sentence answereth anon dame Prudence and sayd: Examyneth ({quod} she) wel your counsayle, and let vs se whyche of hem hath spoke moste resonably, and taught you beste counsayle. And for as moche as the exa∣minacion is necessarye, lette vs begyn at sur∣gens and physiciens, that fyrst spake of thys mater. I saye that physiciens and surgiens haue sayd you in your counsayle discretly, as hem ought: and in her speche sayd ful wisely, that to the office of hem apertayneth to done to euery wight honoure and profyte, and no wyght to anoye, and after her crafte to don great dyligence vnto the cure of hem, whych they haue in her gouernaunce. And sir, right as they haue answerde wysely and discretly, right so rede I that they ben hyely and soue∣raynly guerdoned for her noble speche, & eke for they shul more done theyr ententyfe besy∣nesse in the curacion of your doughter: for al be it so they ben your frendes, therfore shullē ye not suffre, that they serue you for naught, but ye ought therafter guerdō hem, and pay hem her largesse. And as touchyng the propo¦sicion, whyche the physiciens entreteden in in this case, this is to sayne, that in maladies is, that contrarie is warished by an other cō∣trarie: I wolde fayne knowe howe ye vnder¦stonde thylke texte, & what is your sentence? Certes ({quod} Melibeus) I vnderstonde it in thys wyse. Right as they han do me a con∣trarye, so shulde I done hem an other, for ryght as they han venged hem vpon me, and done me wronge, ryght so woll I venge me vpon hem, and don hem wronge, and than haue I cured one contrarie by an other.

Lo, lo ({quod} dame Prudence) how lightly is euery man enclyned to hys owne desyre and hys owne plesaunce. Certes ({quod} she) the wor∣des of the physiciens ne shuld not ben vnder∣stonde in that wyse, for certes wyckednesse is not contrarie to wickednesse, ne vengeaunce is not contrarie to vengeaunce, ne wronge to wronge, but euery of hem encreseth & engen∣dreth other. But certes y^e wordes of the phi∣siciens shulde be vnderstonde in thys wyse, for good and wyckydnesse ben two contra∣ries: and peace and werre, vengeaunce and suffraunce, discorde and acorde, and many o∣ther thynges: But certes wyckidnesse shalbe warished with goodnes, discorde by acorde, werre by peace, and so forthe in other thyn∣ges. And therto acordeth saynt Poule the Apostel in many places: He saith, ne yeld not harme for harme, ne wicked speche for wyc∣ked speche, but do wel to hem that don to the harme, and blesse them that sayd the harme. And in manye other places he amonissheth peace and acorde.

But nowe wol I speke of the counsayle,

whiche was lyeue vnto you by men of law, and the wyse folke and olde folke, that saydē al by one accorde as ye herde byforne, that ouer al thynges ye shal done your besynesse and dyligence to kepe youre person, and to warnstore your house: And they sayd also, y^t in thys case ye ought to werchenfull wysely and with great delyberacion. And syr, as to the fyrste poynte, that toucheth the kepynge of your person: ye shall vnderstonde that he that hath werre, shal euer deuoutely and me∣kely prayen, byforne all thynges, that Iesu Christ of his mercy wol haue him in his pro¦tection, and to be his souerayne helper at his nede: For certes in this worlde there nys no wight that maye be counsayled and ykepte suffyciently without the kepynge of our lord Iesu Christ. To thys sentence acordeth the prophete Dauid that sayth: If god ne kept the cyte, in ydel waketh he that it kepeth. Nowe sir, than shulde he commytte the ke∣pynge of your person to youre true frendes, that ben approued and yknowe, and of hem shul ye aske helpe, your person to kepe. For Caton saith: If thou haue nede of helpe, aske it of thy frendes, for there nys none so good a physicien as thy true frende. And after this than shal ye kepe you fro al straunge folke, & fro lyers, and haue alway in suspecte her cō∣panye. For Peter Alphons saythe. Ne take no company by the way of no straunge man, but yf so be that thou haste knowen hym of lenger tyme: And yf so be that he fal in to thy companye, parauenture withouten thyn as∣sent and good wyl, enquire than as subtelly as thou canst of his conuersacion, and of hys lyfe byforne, and fayne thy way, sayeng thou woldest go thyder as thou wolte not go, and yf he beare a spere, hold the on the right syde of hym, and yf he beare a swerde, hold the on the lefte syde of hym. And than shal ye kepe you wysely from all maner of such people as I haue said you here byfore, and hem and her counsayle eschue. And after this than shal ye kepe you, in suche maner, that for anye pre∣sumpsion of your bodely strength, that ye dis∣pyse not ne acounte not the might of your ad¦uersary so lyte, that ye lete the keping of your person for your presumpcion, for euery wyse mā dredeth his enemy. And Salomon saith: A very foole is he that of al hath drede: But certes he y^t thorowe hardynesse of his herte, and through the hardynesse of him self, hath to great presumpcion, hym shall yuel betyde. Than shal ye euermore encountrewayte en∣bushementes, and all espyaile. For Seneke saythe: The wyse man that dredeth harmes, escheweth harmes: He ne falleth in to no pe∣rylles, that peryll escheweth. And al be it so that thou seme, y^t thou be in secret place, yet shalt thou alway don dyligence in kepyng of thy person, this is to say, ne be not neglygent to kepe thyne owne person, not onely for thy greatest enemy, but also for thy leste enemy. Seneke sayth, a man that is wel aduysed, he dredeth his leste enemye. Ouyde saythe, that the lytel wesel wol slee the great bulle & th•• wylde herte. And the prouerbe saythe, that a lytel thorne wol greue a kyng ful sore, and a lytel hounde wol holde the wylde bore. But nathelesse I say not thou shalt be so cowarde that thou doute where as is no drede. The boke saythe, that some men haue great luste to disceyue, but yet they drede to be disceyued And kepe the fro the companye of skorners: for the boke sayth, with skorners ne make no companye, but flye her wordes as venym

¶Nowe as to the seconde poynte, where as your wyse counsaylours counsayled you to warne store youre house with greate dely∣gence, I wolde fayne knowe howe ye vnder∣stōde thylke wordes, & what is your sentēce.

Melibeus answerd and sayd, certes I vn∣derstonde it in this wyse, that I shal warne•• store myn house wyth toures, suche as haue castels & other maner edyfices, and armurye & archeries, bitwene which thynges I maye my person and my house so kepe and defende that myne enemyes shullen be in drede myne house to aproch. To this sentence answerde anon Prudence. Warnishyng ({quod} she) of hye toures & of hye edyfices, is with great costa∣ges and with great trauayle, and whan that they ben accōplished, yet ben they not worth a strawe, but yf they ben defended with trew frendes, that ben olde and wyse. And vnder∣stondeth wel, that y^e greatest and the strōgest garnyson that ryche men maye haue, as wel to kepen her parsone as her goodes is, y^t they be byloued with her subiectes, and with her neyghbours. For thus saythe Tullius, that there is a maner garryson, that no man may venquishe ne discomfyte, and that is a lorde to be byloued of his cytezyns, & of his people.

¶Nowe sir, as to the thyrde poynte, where as your olde and wyse counsaylours sayde, that ye ought not sodainly ne hastely procede in this nede▪ but that ye oughten puruayen and aparayle you in this case, with great dy∣lygence and delyberacion. Verily I trowe y^t they sayde right trewly and ryght sothe. For Tullius sayth: In euery dede or thou begyn it, apparayle the with great dyligence. Than say I, in vengeaunce takyng, in werre, in ba∣tayle, and in warnestoryng, or thou begyn I rede that thou apparayle the therto, and do it with great delyberaciō. For Tullius saith: The longe apparelynge to fore the batayle, maketh shorte victorie. And Cassidorus saith The garryson is stronger, whan it is longe tyme auysed. But nowe let vs speke of the counsayle that was acorded by your neygh∣bours, suche as don you reuerence withoutē loue, your olde enemyes reconciled, your flat¦terers, that counsayled you certayne thyn∣ges priuely, and openly counsayled you the contrarye. The yong folke also, that counsay∣led you to venge you, & to make werre anon. Certes syr, as I haue sayde byfore, ye haue greatly erred to clepe suche maner of folke to youre counsayle, whiche counsaylours ben ynoughe reproued by the resons a forsayd. But nathelesse let vs nowe discende to the special. Ye shul fyrste procede after the doc∣tryne of Tullius. Certes the trouthe of thys mater or of thys counsayle, nedeth not dyli∣gently to enquire, for it is wel wyste, which they ben that han done you this trespas and vilanye, and howe many trespasours, and in what maner they haue done al thys wronge to you, and al this vilanye. And after thys, than shul ye examyne the seconde condicion, whiche Tullius addeth in thys mater. For Tullius putteth a thyng, whiche that he cle∣peth consentyng: this is to say, who ben they and whiche ben they, and howe manye, that cōsenten to thy counsayle in thy wylfulnesse, to done hasty vengeaunce. And let vs consy∣der also who ben they, and howe manye they ben that consented to youre aduersaries. As to the fyrst poynt, it is wel knowen whiche folke they be, that cōsented to your hasty wyl¦fulnesse. For trewly al tho that counsayl you to maken sodayne werre, ne be not your fren¦des. Let se nowe whiche ben they that ye hol¦den so greatly your frēdes, as to your person For al be it so that ye be mighty & rich certes ye ben but alone: for trewly ye ne haue no chyld but a doughter, ne ye haue no brethern ne cosyns germayns, ne none other nye kyn∣rede, wherfore your enemyes shuld stynte to plede with you, ne to distroye your person.

Ye knowe also that youre rychesse mot be dispended in dyuers parties. And whā that euery wight hath his parte, they wollen take but lytell regarde to venge your dethe. But thyne enemyes ben thre, & they haue manye brethern, children, cosyns, & other nye kynred & though so were, that thou haddest slayne of hem two or thre, yet dwelleth ther ynowe to auenge her dethe, and to slee thy person. And though so be that your kynrede be more sted∣faste and syker than the kyn of your aduersa∣ryes, yet neuer the lesse your kynrede is but after kynrede, for they ben but lytel sybbe to you, and the kynne of your enemyes ben nye sybbe to hem. And certes as in that, her condi¦cion is better than is yours. Than let vs con¦syder also of the counsaylynge of hem that counsayled you to take sodayne vengeaunce, whether it acorde to reson or non: And certes ye know wel nay for as by ryght and reson, there maye no man take vengeaunce of no wight, but the iuge that hath iurisdiction of it, whan it is graunted hym to take venge∣aunce hastely or attemperatly, as the lawe re¦quireth. And yet more ouer of thylke worde that Tullius clepeth cōsentynge, thou shalte cōsent, yf that thy might and thy power may consente and suffyse to thy wilfulnesse, and to thy counsaylours: And certes thou mayste wel saye naye, for sykerly as for to speke pro¦perly, we may do nothyng but suche thynge as we may done ryghtfully: and certes righ∣fully ye may take no vengeaunce, as of your own propre auctorite. Than maye ye se that youre power ne consenteth not ne accordeth not with your wylfulnesse. Nowe let vs exa¦myne the thyrde poynt, that Tullius clepeth consequence. Thou shalte vnderstonde that the vengeaunce y^t thou purposest for to take is consequent, and therof foloweth an other vengeaunce, peryl, and werre, and other da∣mages withouten nombre, of whiche we be not ware, as at this tyme. And as touchynge the fourth poynte, y^t Tullius clepeth engen∣dring, thou shalte consyder, that this wrong, whiche that is done to the, is engendred of y^e

hate of thyne enemyes, and of y^e vengeaunce takyng vpon hem, that wolde engender a no¦ther vengeaunce, and mochel sorowe & wa∣styng of rychesse, as I sayde ere. Nowe sir, as touchyng the fylte poynte, that Tully cle∣peth causes, whiche is the laste poynte, thou shalte vnderstonde, that the wronge that thou haste receyued, hathe certayne causes, whiche that clerkes callen orien, and efficien, and causa longinqua, and causa propinqua, that is to saye, the ferre cause, and the nyghe cause. The ferre cause is almyghty God, that is cause of al thynges. The nere cause is the thre enemyes. The cause accidental was hate. The cause material, ben the fyue woun¦des of thy doughter. The cause formal, is the maner of theyr werkynge that brought lad∣ders, and clambe in at thy wyndowes. The cause fynal was for to sle thy doughter, it let¦ted not in as moche as in them was. But for to speke of y^u ferre cause, as to what ende they shulde come, or fynally what shal betyde of them in thys case, ne canne I not deme, but by coniectynge and supposynge: for we shall suppose that they shall come to a wycked ende, bycause that the boke of decrees saythe. Selde or wyth greate payne, ben causes brought to a good ende, whan they ben bad∣ly begonne.

Now sir, yf men wolde aske me why that god suffred men to do you this villanye, tru∣ly I can not wel answere, as for no sothfast∣nesse. For the Apostel saythe, that the scyen∣ces and the iugementes of our lorde God al∣mighty ben ful depe, there may no man com∣prehende ne serche hem. Nathelesse by cer∣tayne presumpcyous and coniectynges, I holde and byleue, that God whyche that is ful of iustyce and of rightwisnesse, hathe suf∣fred thys betyde, by iuste cause resonable.

¶Thy name is Melibee, this is to saye, a man that drinketh hony. Thou haste dronke so moche hony of swete temporel rychesses, and delyces of honours of this worlde, that thou arte dronke, and haste forgoten Iesu Christ thy creatour: Thou ne haste not done to hym suche honoure and reuerence as the ought, ne thou ne haste not taken kepe to the wordes of Ouide, that sayth. Vnder y^e hony of the goodes of thy body, is hyd the venym that sleeth thy soule.

And Salomon sayth: If it so he that thou hast founde hony, eete of the same hony, that that suffyseth: For yf so be that thou eete of y^e same hony out of mesure, thou shalte spewe, and also be nedy and poore. And parauen∣ture almyghty God Iesu Christ, hath the in dispyte, and hathe turned awaye fro the hys face, and his eeres of myserycorde & mercye. And also he hath suffred & gyue lycence, that thou thus shuldest be punished & chastised, in y^e maner that thou haste trespased and offen∣ded. Thou hast done synne agaynst our lorde Christ, for certes the thre enemyes of man∣kynde, that is to say: the fleshe, the fende, and the worlde, thou haste suffred hem entre into thyne herte wylfully, by the wyndowes of thy body, and hast not defended thy selfe suf∣fyciently agaynst their assautes & their temp¦tacions, so that they haue wounded thy soule in fyue places, this is to shy: The deedly syn∣nes, that ben entred in to thy hert by thy fyue wyttes. And in the same maner oure lorde Christ hathe wolde and suffred that thy thre enemyes bē entred in to thy house by y^e wyn∣dowes, and haue wounded thy doughter in the forsayd maner.

Truely ({quod} Melibee) I se well that ye en∣force you moche by wordes to ouercome me, in suche maner that I shall not venge me on myn enemyes, shewynge me the perilles and the yuels that myght fal of this vengeaunce but who so wolde consyder in al vengeaun∣ces, the perils and yuels that myght s••e of vengeaunce takyng, a man wolde neuer take vengeaunce, and that were harme: For by y^e vengeaunce takynge, ben the wycked men disceuered from the good men. And they that haue wyll to do wickednesse, restrayn theyr wycked purpose, whan they se the ponishyng and chastysyng of y^e trespasours: And yet say I more, that ryght as a synguler person syn∣neth in takynge vengeaunce of a nother m••, ryght so synneth the iuge, yf he do no venge∣aūce of hem that haue deserued. For Seneke saythe thus: That mayster he saythe is good that preueth shrewes. And as Cassyodor saythe: A man dredeth to do outrages, whan he wote and knoweth, that it dyspleaseth to the iuges & soueraynes. And an other saythe: The iuge that dredeth to do ryght maketh men shrewes. And saynt Poule the Apost∣le saythe in hys Epystle, whan he wryteth vnto the Romayns, that the iuges beare not

the speere wythout cause, but they beare it to punyshe the shrewes & mysdoers, & for to de∣fende the good men. ¶Yf ye woll then take vengeaunce of your enemies, ye shul returne and haue your recourse to the iuge that hath the iurisdyction vpon hem, and he shall pu∣nyshe hem, as the lawe asketh and requyreth

A ha, sayd Melibee, thys vēgeaūce lyketh me nothynge. I bethynke me nowe, and take hede howe that fortune hathe nouryshed me fro my childhode, and hath holpe me to passe many a stronge paas: Nowe I woll assaye her, trowynge wyth goddes helpe, that she shall helpe me my shame for to auenge.

TRuely said Prudēce, yf ye wol werke by my counsayle, ye shal not assay for ••••ne by no waye: ne ye shall not lene or bowe vnto her, after the worde of Senek For thynges that bene foolyshlye done, and that bene done in hope of fortune, shal neuer come to good ende. And as the same Seneke sayeth: The more clere & the more shynynge that fortune is, the more brytel and the soner broke she is. Trusteth not in her, for she is not stedfast ne stable. For when thou trowest to be moste sure and stedfaste of her helpe, she woll fayle and dysceyue the. And where as ye saye, that fortune hath nouryshed you fro youre chyldhode, I saye that in so moche ye shall the lesse truste in her, and in her wytte. For Seneke sayeth: what man that is nory¦shed by fortune, she maketh him a great foole Nowe then syth ye desyre and aske vēgeaūce and the vengeaunce that is done after the lawe, and before the iuge, ne lyketh you not and the vengeaunce that is done in hope of fortune is peryllous & vncertaine, then haue ye none other remedye, but for to haue your recourse vnto the soueraine iuge, that vēgeth all vylanyes and wronges. And he shal vēge you, after that hym selfe wytnesseth, where as he sayeth: Leaue the vengeaunce to me, and I shall do it.

Melibee answered, yf I ne venge me of the villany that men haue done to me, I sōm¦mō or warne hem, that haue done to me that vyllanye, and al other, to do me an other vyl∣lanye. For it is wrytten: Yf thou take no vengeaūce of an olde vyllany, thou sōmonest thyne aduersaryes to do the a newe vyllany: And also for my suffraūce men wolde do me so moche vyllany, that I myght neither bere it ne sustayne it, and so shulde I be put & hol∣den ouer lowe. For men sayne, in mykel suffe¦ryng shal many thynges fal vnto the, which thou shalt not mowe suffre.

Certes ({quod} Prudence) I graunt you, that ouer moch suffraunce is not good, but yet ne foloweth it not therof, that euery persone, to whome men do vyllanye, shulde take of it vē¦geaunce: for that appertayneth and longeth all only to iuges, for they shulde venge y^e vyl¦lanyes and iniuryes: And therfore those two authorities that ye haue sayd afore, bene on∣ly vnderstande in the iuges: For when they suffre ouer moche the wrōges and vyllanyes to be done, wythout punyshment, they som∣mon not a man all only for to do newe wron¦ges, but they cōmaunde it. Also a wyse man sayeth, that the iuge that correcteth not y^e syn¦ner, cōmaundeth and byddeth hym do synne. And y^e iuges and souerayns, myght in theyr lande so moch suffre of the shrewes & mysdo¦ers, that they shulde by such suffraūce, by pro¦cesse of tyme, wexe of such power and myght that they shulde put out the iuges and the so∣ueraynes frō theyr places, and at laste, make hem lese her lordshyppes.

But let vs now suppose, that ye haue leue to venge you: I saye ye be not of myght and power as nowe to venge you, for yf ye woll make comparyson vnto the myghte of youre aduersaryes, ye shulde fynde in many thyn∣ges that I haue shewed you er thys, y^t theyr condicyon is better then yours, and therfore saye I, that it is good as nowe, that ye suffre and be pacient.

Furthermore, ye knowe well that after the cōmen sawe, it is a woodnesse, a man to stryue wyth a stronger or a more mighty mā then he is hym selfe, and for to stryue wyth a man of euen strength, that is to saye, wyth as stronge a man as he is, it is peryl: and for to stryue wyth a weaker man, it is folye, and therfore shulde a man slye stryuynge as my∣kel as he myght. For Salomon sayeth: It is a great worshyppe to a man to kepe hym fro noyse & stryfe: and yf it so befal & happe that a man of greater myght & strength then thou arte, do the greuaūce: study and besye the ra∣ther to styll the same greuaunce, then for to venge the. For Seneke sayeth, that he put∣teth hym in great peryll, that stryueth wyth

a greater man than he is hem selfe. And Ca∣ton sayth, yf a man of hygher astate or degre or more mighty than thou, do the anoye or greuaunce, suffre hym: for he that ones hath greued the, maye an other tyme releue the and helpe the. Yet sette I case ye haue lycence for to venge you. I saye that there ben ful ma¦ny thynges, that shal restrayne you of venge¦aunce takyng, and make you for to enclyne to suffre, and for to haue pacience in the wron∣ges that haue ben done to you. Fyrst and for∣mest yf ye wol consyder the fautes that ben in your owne person, for whyche fautes god hath suffred you to haue this trybulacion, as I haue sayd to you here before. For the poete saythe, that we ought paciently take the try∣bulacions that come to vs, whan that we thynke and consyder that we haue deserued to haue them. And saynt Gregorie saythe, that whan a man consydereth wel the nom∣bre of hys defautes and of hys synnes, the paynes and the trybulacions that he suffreth seme the lesse vnto hym. And in as moche as him thynketh his synnes more heuy and gre∣uous, in so moche semeth his payne the ligh∣ter and the esyer vnto him. Also ye owe to en∣clyne and bowe your herte to take the paci∣ence of our lorde Iesu Christ, as sayth saynt Peter in his epystles. Iesu Christ he saythe hath suffred for vs, and yeuen ensample to euerye man to folowe and sewe hym, for he dyd neuer synne, ne neuer came there a villay¦nous worde out of hys mouthe. Whan men cursed hym, he cursed hem not. And whan men bete hym, he manaced hem not. Also the great pacience, whyche sayntes that ben in paradyse haue had in tribulacyon that they haue suffred, wythout her deserte or gylte, ought moche styrre you to pacience. Ferther∣more, ye shul enforce you to haue pacience, cō¦sydryng that the trybulacions of thys world but lytel whyle endure, and sone passed ben and gon, and y^e ioy that a man seketh to haue by pacience in tribulacions is perdurable, af¦ter that the Apostle saythe in his Epystle. The ioye of god he sayth, is perdurable, that is to saye, euerlastyng. Also troweth and by∣leueth stedfastly that he is not wel nourished and wel taught, that can not haue pacience, or wol not receyue pacyence. For Salomon saythe, that the doctryne and the wytte of a man is knowen by pacience. And in an other place he sayth, that he that is pacient, gouer∣neth hym by great prudence.

And the same Salomon saythe. The an∣gry and wrathful man maketh noyses, and the pacient mā attempreth and stylleth hem. He saythe also, it is more worth to be pacient than to be ryght stronge. And he that maye haue the lordeship of his owne herte is more to prayse, thā he that by his force or strength taketh great cyties. And therfore sayth saynt Iame in hys epystle that pacyence is a great vertue of perfectyon.

CErtes ({quod} Melibee) I graunt you dame Prudence, that pa∣cience is a great vertue of per¦fection, but euerye man maye not haue the perfection that ye seke, ne I am not of the nō∣bre of ryght perfyte men. For myn herte may neuer be in peace, vnto the tyme it be auen∣ged. And al be it so that it was great peryl to myne enemyes to do me a villanye, in taking vengeaunce vpon me, yet toke they no hede of the peryl, but fulfylled her wycked wyll & her corage: And therfore me thynketh men ought not repreue me, though I put me in a lytel peryl, for to auenge me, & though I do a great excesse, that is to saye: that I venge one outrage by an other.

¶Ah ({quod} dame) Prudence, ye say your wyl as you lyketh: But in no case of the worlde a man shulde not do outrage ne excesse for to venge him. For Cassiodor sayth, that as yuel dothe he that vengeth him by outrage, as he that dothe the outrage. And therfore ye shal venge you after the order of right, that is to saye, by the lawe, and not by excesse ne by outrage. And also yf you wol venge you of the outrage of your aduersaries in other ma∣ner than right commaundeth, ye synne. And therfore saythe Seneke: that a man shal ne∣uer venge shreudnesse by shreudnesse. And yf ye saye that right asketh to defende violence by violence, and fightyng by fighting: certes ye saye soth, whan the defence is done with∣out interual, or without taryeng or delay, for to defende hym, and not for to venge hym. And it behoueth that a man put suche attem∣peraūce in his defence, that mē haue no cause ne mater to repreue him y^t defendeth hym of

outrage and excesse, for els were it agayne re¦son. Parde ye knowe wel, that ye make no de¦fence as nowe, for to defende you, but for to venge you: and so sheweth it that ye haue no wyll to do your dede attemperatly, and ther∣fore me thynketh that pacience is good. For Salomon sayeth, that he that is not pa∣cient shall haue great harme.

CErtes sayd Melibee I graūt you, that when a mā is impa¦cient & wroth of that that tou¦cheth him not, and that apper¦taineth not vnto him, though it harme hym it is no wonder For the lawe sayth, that he is culpable, that entremetleth or meteth wyth suche thynges as apertayneth not vnto hym. And Salomō sayeth▪ that he that entremetleth of the noyse or stryfe of another man, is lyke to hym that taketh a straunge hounde by the ceres: For ryght as he, that taketh a straūge hoūde by y^e ceres, is other whyle byttē by y^e honde, right so in the same wyse it is reason that he haue harme that by hys impacience medleth hym of the noyse of an other man, where as it ap∣pertayneth not vnto hym. But ye knowe wel that thys dede, that is to saye my grefe & my dysease, toucheth me ryght nyghe. And ther∣fore though I be wrothe and impacient, it is no maruayle: and sauynge youre grace I can not se y^t it myght greatly harme me thoughe I toke vengeaunce, for I am rycher & more myghtye then myne enemyes be: And well knowe ye that by money & by hauynge great possessyons, ben all thynges of thys worlde gouerned. And Salomō sayeth, al these thyn¦ges obey to money.

When Prudence had herde her husbande auaunt hym of hys rychesse and hys money, dyspraysynge y^e power of hys aduersaryes, she spake and sayd in thys wyse. Certes dere syr, I graunt you that ye be ryche & myghty, and that y^e rychesse is good to hem that haue well gotten hem, and that well can vse hem. For ryght as the body of a man may not lyue wythout the soule, no more may it lyue with out the temporel goodes, and by ryches may a man get hym great frendes. And therfore sayeth Pamphillus: Yf a nerthes doughter he sayth be riche, she may chefe of a thousand men, whyche she woll take to her husbande: for of a thousande, one woll not forsake her ne refuse her. And thys Pamphillus sayeth also: Yf thou be ryght happy, that is to say, yf thou be ryche, thou shalte fynde a greate nombre of felowes & frendes. And yf thy for¦tune chaūge, farewel frendshyp, & felowshyp for thou shalte be alone wythout any cōpany but yf it be the companye of poore folke. And yet sayeth thys Pamphillus more ouer that they that bene bonde and thrall of ly∣nage, shall be made worthye and noble by the rychesses. And ryghte so as by the ry∣chesses there come many goodnesses, ryghte so by pouertie come there many harmes and yuels, for greate pouertie cōstrayneth a man to do many yuels. And therfore calleth Cas∣siodor pouertye the mother of ruyne, that is to saye, the mother of ouerthrowynge or of fallynge downe. And therfore sayeth Peter Alfonce: One of the greatest aduersyties of thys worlde is when a free man by kynde or of byrth, is constrayned by pouerty to eat the almesse of hys enemye. And the same sayeth Innocent, in one of hys bokes: He sayeth, that sorowfull and myshappy is the condici∣on of a poore begger, for yf he aske not hys meate, he dyeth for honger, and yf he aske, he dyeth for shame: and algates necessite con∣strayneth hym to aske. And therfore sayeth Salomon, that better is to dye, then for to haue suche pouerte. And as the same Salo∣mon sayeth: Better it is to dye of bytter deth, then for to lyue in suche wyse. By these rea∣sons that I haue said vnto you, & by many o∣ther reasons that I coulde say, I graunt you that rychesses ben good, to hem y^t getten hem well, and to hem that wel vsen tho rychesses And therfore wol I shewe you howe ye shal behaue you in gatherynge of rychesses, and in what maner ye shullen vse hem.

Fyrst ye shall get hem wythout great de∣syre, by good leyser, sokynglye and not ouer∣hastelye, for a man that in to desyrynge to get rychesse, habandoneth hym fyrste to thefte and to all other yuels. And therfore sayeth Salomon: He that hasteth hym to besely to waxe ryche, he shall be none innocent. He say¦eth also, that the rychesse that hastely cometh to a man, sone and lyghtly goeth and passeth from a man, but that rychesse that cometh ly∣tel & lytel, wexeth alwaye and multiplyeth. And syr, ye shall gette rychesse by your wyte

and by your trauayle, vnto your profyte, and that wythout wronge or harme doynge to a∣ny other persone. For the lawe sayeth, there maketh no mā him selfe riche, yf he do harme to an other wyght, thys is to say: that nature defendeth and forbyddeth by ryghte, that no man make hym selfe ryche vnto the harme of an other person. And Tullius sayeth, that no sorowe ne no drede of death, ne nothing that maye fall vnto a man, is so moche ayenst na∣ture, as a man to encreace hys owne profyte, to the harme of an other mā. And though the great & myghty mē get rychesses more lyght∣ly then thou, yet shalte thou not be ydell ne slowe to do thy profyte, for thou shalte in all wyse flye ydelnesse. For Salomon sayeth, y^e ydelnesse teacheth a man to do many yuels. And the same Salomon sayeth, that he that trauayleth and besyeth hym to tylth his lāde shall eate breed: but he that is ydell & casteth hym to no besynesse ne occupacion, shal fal in to pouerte and dye for honger. And he that is ydell and slowe, can neuer fynde couenable tyme for to do hys profyte. For there is a ver¦syfyer sayeth, that the ydel man excuseth him in wynter, bycause of the greate colde, and in sommer bycause of the heete. For these cau∣ses sayeth Caton, waketh and enclyne you net ouer moche for to slepe, for ouer moche reste nourysheth and causeth many vyces. And therfore sayeth saynt Ierom, do some good dedes, that the deuell whyche is our enemye, ne fynde you not vnoccupyed, for the dyuel ne taketh not lyghtly vnto his wer kynge suche as he fyndeth occupyed in good werkes.

Then thus, in gettynge rychesses ye must flye ydelnesse. And afterward ye shul vse the rychesses, whyche ye haue gote by your wyte and by youre trauayle, in suche maner, that men holde you not to scarce ne to sparyng, ne foole large, that is to say, ouer large a spēder For ryghte as men blame an auaricious mā bycause of hys scarcite and chynchery, in the same wyse is he to blame that spendeth ouer largelye. And therfore sayeth Caton: Vse (sayeth he) the rychesses that thou haste got∣ten in suche maner, that men maye haue no mater ne cause to call the nother wretche ne chynche: For it is greate shame to a man to haue a poore herte and a ryche purse. He sayeth also, the goodes that thou haste gote, vse them by measure, that is to saye, spende mesurably, for they that foolyshly waste and dyspende the goodes that they haue, when they haue no more propre of her owne, then they shape hem to take y^e goodes of an other man. I saye then that ye shall flye auaryce, vsynge youre rychesse in suche maner, that men saye not that youre rychesses bene bury∣ed, but that ye haue hem in your myghte and in youre weldynge. For a wyse man repre∣ueth the auaricyous man, and sayeth thus in thys verses two. Wherto and why buryeth a man hys goodes by hys great auaryce, and knoweth well that nedes he muste dye, for death is the ende of euerye man▪ as in thys presente lyfe? And for what cause or enche∣son ioyneth he hym, or knytteth he hym so faste vnto hys goodes, that all hys wyttes mowe not dysceuer hym, ne departe hym fro hys goodes, and knoweth well, or ought to knowe, that when he is deade, he shall no∣thynge beare wyth hym out of thys worlde. And therfore sayeth saynt Augustyne, that the auaricyous mā is lykened vnto hell, that the more it swaloweth, the more desyre it hathe to swalowe and deuoure. And as well as ye wolde eschewe to be called an a∣uaricyous man or chynche, as well shulde ye kepe and gouerne you in such a wyse, that men call you not foole large. Therfore sayeth Tullius. The goodes of thyne house ne shulde not be hydde ne kepte so close, but that they myghte be opened by pyte and de∣bonayrte, that is to saye, to yeue hem parte that haue greate nede. Ne thy goodes shulde not be so open, to be euerye mans goodes. Afterwarde in gettynge of youre rychesses and in vsynge hem, ye shall alwaye haue thre thynges in youre herte, that is to say, our Lorde God, conscience, and good name. Fyrst ye shall haue god in your herte, and for no ryches ye shuld do any thyng, whych may in any maner dysplease god your creatour & maker. For after the worde of Salomon, it is better to haue a lytell good with y^e loue of god, then to haue moche good and treasoure, and lese the loue of his Lorde God. And the prophete sayeth, that better it is to be a good man, and haue lytel good & treasour, then to be holden a shrewe, and haue great rychesse. And yet I say furthermore, that ye shulde al¦waye do your busynesse to get you rychesses,

so that ye get hem with good conscience. And the Apostle sayeth, that there nys thynge in thys worlde, of whyche we shulde haue so great ioye, as when oure conscience beareth vs good wytnesse. And the wyse man sayeth: that the substaunce of a man is full good, when synne is not in mans conscience. After∣warde in gettyng of your rychesses and in v∣synge of hem, ye muste haue great besynesse and great diligence, that your good name be alwaye kept and conserued. For Salomon sayeth, that better it is, and more it auayleth a man to haue a good name, then for to haue many rychesses: And therfore he sayth in an other place. Do great diligence sayeth Salo¦mon, in kepynge of thy frendes & of thy good name, for it shall lenger abyde wyth the thē any treasure, be it neuer so precious. And cer∣tes he shuld not be called a great gentylman, that after God and good conscience, all thyn∣ges lefte, ne doth hys deligence & besynesse to kepe hys good name. And Cassyodor sayeth, that it is a sygne of a gentyll herte, when a mā loueth and desyreth to haue a good name And therfore sayeth saynte Augustyne, that there ben two thynges that ben ryght neces∣sarye and also nedefull: and that is good con¦science, and good lose, that is to saye: good cō¦science to thyne owne persone inwarde, and good lose for thy neyghbour outwarde. And he that trusteth hym so moch in hys good cō∣science, that he dyspyseth & setteth at nought his good name or loose, & recketh not though he kepe not hys good name, nys but a cruell churle. Syr, nowe haue I shewed you howe ye shulde do in gettynge rychesses, and howe ye shulde vse hem: and I se well for the trust that ye haue in your rychesses, ye woll moue warre and batayle. I counsayle you that ye begyn no warre in truste of youre rychesses, for they ne suffyse not warres to maynteyne. And therfore sayeth a philosopher: That mā that desyreth and wolde algates haue warre shall neuer haue suffysaunce: for the rycher that he is, the greater dyspēces must he make yf he woll haue worshyppe and vyctorye. And Salomon sayeth, that the greater ry∣chesses y^t a man hath, the more dyspendours he hath. And therfore syr, all be it so that for youre ryches ye maye haue moche folke, yet behoueth it not, ne it is not good to begynne warre, where as ye maye in other maner haue peace, vnto youre worshyppe and pro∣fyte: For the vyctorye of batayls that bene in thys worlde, lyeth not in great nombre or multytude of people, ne in the vertue of mā, but it lyeth in the wyll and in the hande of oure Lorde God almyghtye. And therfore Iudas Machabeus, whyche was goddes knyght, when he shulde fyght ayenst hys ad∣uersarye, that hadde a greater nombre and a greater multytude of folke, and strōger then was hys people of Machabee, yet he recom∣forted hys lytell company, and sayd ryght in thys wyse: Also lyghtly sayd he, maye our Lorde God yeue vyctorye to a fewe folke, as to many folke, for the vyctorye of a batayle cometh not by the greate nombre of people, but it cōmeth from oure Lorde God of hea∣uen. And dere syr, for as moche as there is no man certayne, yf it be worthye that God yeue hym vyctorye or not, after that Salo∣mon sayeth, therfore euery man shuld great∣lye drede warres to begyn: and bycause that in batayles fall many peryls, and happeth o∣ther whyle, that as sone is the greate man slayne as the lytel man. And as it is wrytten in the seconde boke of kynges: The dedes of batayles ben aduenturous and nothyng cer∣tayne, for as lyghtlye is one hurte wyth a speere as an other: And for ther is great pe∣ryll in warre, therfore shulde a man slye and eschue warre in as moch as a man may good¦ly. For Salomō sayeth, he that loueth peryl, shall fall in peryll.

After that dame Prudence had spoken in thys maner, Melibe answered and sayd. I se well dame Prudence, that by your fayre wor¦des and your resons that ye haue shewed me that the warre lyketh you nothynge, but I haue not yet herde youre counsayle howe I shall do in thys nede.

Certes (said she) I coūsayle you that ye ac¦corde wyth your aduersaries, & that ye haue peace wyth hem. For saynt Iames sayeth in hys Epystle: that by concorde and peace small ryches waxe great: and by debate and dyscorde ryches decaye. And ye knowe well, that one of the greatest and moste souerayne thyng that is in this worlde, is vnite & peace And therfore sayeth oure lorde Iesu Christe to hys apostles, in thys wyse: wel happy ben they, that loue & purchace peace, for they be called the chyldren of god. Ah, sayd Melibee,

now se I wel, that ye loue not myne honour ne my worshyp. Ye knowe wel that myne ad¦uersaryes haue begon this debate & bryge by theyr outrage. And ye se well that they ne re∣quyre ne praye me of peace, ne they aske not to be reconsiled. Wol ye then that I go meke me, and obey me to them, & crye hem mercye? Forsoth y^t were not my worshyp. For ryghte as men saye, ouer great humblenesse engen∣dreth dyspraysynge, so fareth it by to great•• humilite or mekenesse.

Then began dame Prudence to make sem¦blant of wrath, & sayd: Certes syr, saue your grace. I loue your honour and profyte as I do myne owne, and euer haue do: ye ne none other neuer se the cōtrary. And yet, yf I had said, that ye shulde haue purchased peace and reconsiliation, I ne had moche mystake me, ne sayd amysse. For the wyse man sayeth: the dyscention begynneth by an other man, and the reconsylynge begynneth by thy selfe. And the prophete sayeth: flye shreudnesse, and do goodnesse, seke peace & folowe it, in as moch as in the is. Yet saye I not, that ye shulde ra∣ther pursue to youre aduersaries for peace, then they shulde to you: For I knowe well that ye bene so harde herted, that ye woll do nothynge for me. And Salomon sayeth: He that hath ouer harde an herte, he at laste shal myshappe or mysbetyde.

When Melibee had herde dame Pru∣dence make semblaunt of wrathe, he sayde in thys wyse. Dame I praye you, that ye be not dyspleased of y^e thynge that I saye, for ye knowe well that I am angrye and wroth, & that is no wonder: and they that be wrothe wote not well what they do, ne what they saye. Therfore the prophete sayeth: that trou¦bled eyen haue no clere syght. But saye & coū¦sayle me as you lyketh, for I am ready to do ryght as ye wol desyre: And yf ye reprefe me of my folye, I am the more holden to loue & prayse you. For Salomō sayeth, that he that repreueth hym that doth foly, he shall fynde greater grace then he that dysceyueth him by swete wordes.

Then sayde dame Prudence, I make no semblaunt of wrath ne of anger, but for your great profyte. For Salomon sayeth: He is more worth, that repreueth or chydeth a fole for hys folye, shewynge hym semblaunt of wrath, then he that supporteth him and pray¦seth hym in hys mysdoynge, and laugheth a•• hys folye. And thys same Salomon sayeth afterwarde: That by the sorowfull vysage of a man, that is to saye, by the sorye and he∣uy countenaunce of a man, the foole correc∣teth and amendeth hym selfe.

Then sayde Milibee, I shall not con an∣swere vnto so many fayre reasons as ye put to me and shewe: saye shortly your wyl and youre counsayle, and I am all readye to per∣forme and fulfyll it. ¶Then dame prudence dyscouered all her wyll vnto hym and sayde. I counsayle you (sayd she) aboue al thynges, that ye make peace bytwene God and you, and be reconsyled vnto hym and to hys grace for as I haue sayd you here before, god hath suffred you to haue thys tribulation and dys∣ease for your synnes: and yf ye do as I saye you, God wyl sende youre aduersaryes vnto you, and make hem fall at your fete, ready to do youre wyll and your commaundement. For Salomon sayeth, when the condicion of man is pleasaūt and lykynge to god, he chaū¦geth the hertes of the mans aduersaries, and constrayneth hem to beseche hym of peace & of grace. And I praye you let me speke with your aduersaryes priuelye, for they shal not knowe that it be of your wyll or your assent. And then when I knowe theyr wyll and theyr entente, I maye counsayle you the more surely.

Dame sayde Melibee, dothe youre wyll and your lykynge, for I put me holy in your dysposicion and ordynaunce.

Then dame Prudence, when she sawe the good wyll of her husbonde, delybered & toke aduyse in her selfe, thynkyng how she myght brynge thys nede vnto a good conclusion and to a good ende: And when she sawe her tyme, she sente for these aduersaries to come vnto her in a priue place. And shewed wisely vnto hem y^e great goodes that come of peace and the greate harmes and peryls that bene in warre, and sayd to hem in a goodly maner howe that hem ought haue great repentaūce of the iniury and wronge, that they had done to Melibeus her lorde, and vnto her and to her doughter.

And when they herde y^e goodly wordes of dame Prudence, they were so supprysed and rauyshed, and had so great ioye of her, that wonder was to tel. ¶Ah, ladye (sayde they)

ye haue shewed vnto vs the blessyng of swet∣nesse after the sayeng of Dauid the prophete, For the reconsyling which we be nat worthy to haue in no manere. But we ought require it with great cōtricion and humilite, that ye of your goodnesse haue presented vnto vs. Now se we wel, that the science and cōnyng of Salomon is ful trewe, for he saith: That swete wordes multiply and encreace fren∣des, and maketh shrewes to be debonaire and meke.

Certes (sayd they) we put our dede and al our mater & cause, al holy in your goodwyl, and been redy to obey at the cōmaundement of oure lorde Melibeus. And therfore dere and benygne lady: we praye and beseche you as mekely as we can and maye, that it lyke vnto your great goodnesse, to fulfyll in dede, your goodly wordes. For we consyder and knowe, that we haue offended and greued oure lorde Melibeus out of measure: so for∣forth, that we be nat of power to make hym amendes. And therfore we oblige and bynde vs and our frendes, for to do all at hys wyll and commaundement: but parauenture he hath suche heuynesse, and suche wrathe to vs warde, bycause of our offence, that he woll enioyn vs suche a payne, as we mowe nat beare ne sustayne. And therfore noble lady, we besech your womanly pyte, to take suche aduysement in thys nede, that we ne our frē∣des be nat disherited ne distroyed, through our foly.

Certes (sayd Prudence) It is an harde thynge and ryght perilous, that a man put him al vtterly in arbytration and iugement, and in the might and power of hys enemye: For Salomon saythe: leueth me, and yeueth credence to that I shal saye: Ne yeueth neuer the power ne gouernaunce of thy goodes, to thy son, to thy wyfe, to thy frende, ne to thy brother: ne yeue thou neuer might ne mastry ouer thy body while thou liuest. Nowe, syth he defendeth that a man shulde nat yeue to his brother ne to his frende, the might of his body. By a stronger reason he defendeth and forbedeth a man to yeue hym selfe to his ene∣my. And nathelesse I counsaile you that ye mystrust nat my lorde: for I wot wel and know verily, that he is debonair & meke, lar∣ge, curteys, and nothynge desirous ne coui∣tous of goodes ne ryches. For there is no∣thynge in this worlde that he desyreth, saue onely worshyp and honoure. Ferthermore I knowe, and am ryght sure, that he shal no∣thyng do in thys nede, without my coūsayle: and I shall so worke in thys case, that by the grace of our lorde god, ye shalbe reconsyled vnto vs.

Than sayd they with one voyce, worshyp∣ful lady we put vs and oure goodes all fully in your wyl and disposycion, and ben redy to come, what day that it lyketh vnto your no∣blesse to lymyte vs or assyne vs for to make our oblygacion & bonde as stronge as it ly∣keth vnto your goodnes, that we mowe ful∣fyl the wyl of you and of my lorde Melibe.

Whan dame Prudence had herde the an∣swere of these men, she bad hem go ayen pri∣uely, and she returned to her lorde Melibe, & tolde hym howe she founde hys aduersaries ful repentaunt, knowlegynge ful lowly her synnes and trespas, and how they were redy to suffre al payne, requiryng and prayīg him of mercy and pyte.

Than sayde Melibe, he is wel worthy to haue pardon and foryeuenesse of hys synne, that excuseth not hys synne, but knowlegeth and repenteth hym, askyng indulgynce. For Seneke sayth, there is the remission and for yeuenesse, where as the confessyon is: for confessyon is neyghbour to innocence. And therfore I assent and confyrme me to haue peace, but it is good that we do nought w^tout the assente and wyl of our frendes.

Than was Prudence ryght gladde and ioyful, and sayde: Certes sir, ye haue wel and goodly answered: for ryght as by the coun∣sayle, assent, and helpe of your frendes, ye ha∣ue be steered to venge you and make werre: Right so, without her counsayle shall ye not accorde you, ne haue peace with your aduer∣saries. For the lawe sayth: There is no∣thyng so good, by waye of kynde, as a thyng to be vnbounde by him that it was ybounde.

Than dame Prudence, wythout delay or taryenge, sent anone her messanger for her kynsfolke and her olde frendes, whyche that were trewe and wise: and told hem by order, in the presence of Melibe, al the mater, as it is aboue expressed and declared. And prayed hem that they wolde saye theyr aduyse and counsayle what best were to do in this nede. And whan Melibeus frendes had taken her

aduyse and delyberacion of the forsayd ma∣ter, and had examyned it by great busynesse and dilygence. They yaue ful counsaile for to haue peace and rest, and that Melibee shulde receyue wyth good hert hys aduersaris, to foryeuenesse and mercy.

And whan dame Prudence had herd thas∣sent of her lorde Melibee, and the counsayle of hys frendes accorde with her wyl and her entencion, she was wondersly gladde in her hert, and sayde. There is an olde prouerbe (sayd she) That y^e goodnesse that thou maist do this day, do it, and abyde it nat, ne delay it nat tyl the next daye. And therfore I coun∣sayle, that ye sende your messengers, suche as be discrete and wyse, vnto your aduersaries: tellyng hem on your behalf, that yf they wol treat of peace and accorde, that they shape hē wyth out delay or taryeng, to come vnto vs: whyche thyng performed was in dede. And whan these trespasours, and repentyng folke of her folies, that is to say, the aduersaries of Melibeus, had herde what these messangers sayd vnto hem, they were ryght gladde and ioyful, and answered ful mekely and benyg∣nely, yeldyng grace and thankes to her lorde Melibe••, and to al hys companye: and shope hem without delaye to go wyth the messan∣gers, and obeyed to the commaundement of her lorde Melibeus. And ryght anone they toke her way to the courte of Melibe, & toke with hem some of their true frēdes, to make faythe for hem, & for to be her borowes: And whā they were comen to the presence of Me∣libee, he sayd to hem these wordes. It ston∣deth thus, sayde Melibee, and soth it is, that causelesse & without skyl and reson, ye haue done great iniuries and wronges to me and my wyfe Prudence, and to my doughter also, for ye haue entred in to my house by violence and haue done suche outrage, that all men knowe wel that ye haue deserued dethe. And therfore woll I knowe and wete of you, whether ye woll put the punishynge and the chastylyng and the vengeaunce of thys out∣rage, in the wyl of me and of my wyfe, or ye wol not.

Than the wysest of hem thre answerd for hem al, and sayd. Sir (sayd he) we know wel that we ben vnworthy to come to the courte of so great a lorde and so worthy as ye be, for we haue so gretly mistaken vs, and haue of∣fended and agylted in such wyse agayn your hygh lordshyp, that truely we haile deserued the dethe, but yet for the great goodnesse and debonairte, that al the worlde wytnesseth of your person, we submytte vs to y^e excellēcye and benygnytye of your gracious lordeshyp, and ben redy to obey to al your commaunde∣mentes, besechynge you, that of your mer••ia∣ble pyte ye wel consyder oure great repen∣taunce, and lowe submyssyon, and graunt vs foryeuenesse of our outragyous trespace and offence: For wel we knowe, that your liberal grace and mercye stretcheth ferther in to the goodnesse, than don oure outragious gyltes and trespaces in to the wyckednesse. Al be it that cursedly and damnably we haue agilted agaynst your hygh lordshyp.

THan Melibee tooke hem vp fro the grounde ful benygnely, and receyued her oblygacions and her bondes by her othes vpon her pledges and borowes, and assyned hem a certayne day to retourne vnto hys courte, for to receyue and accept the sen∣tence and iugement that Melibeus wolde cō¦maunde to be don on hem, by the causes afor∣sayd, which thynges ordayned, euery man re∣turned to hys house.

And whan dame Prudēce sawe her tyme, she fayned and asked her lorde Melibe, what vengeaunce he thought to take on hys ad∣uersaries.

To whyche Melibe answerde, and sayde▪ Certes (sayde he.) I thynke and purpose me fully to disherit thē of al that euer they haue, and for to putte them in exile for euer.

Certes sayd dame Prudence, thys were a cruel sentence, and moche ayenst reason. For ye be rich ynough, and haue no nede of other mennes riches. And ye might lyghtly in this wyse gete you a couetous name, whiche is a vicious thyng, and ought be eschewed of eue∣ry good man. For after the sayeng of the apo∣stel: Couetise is rote of al harmes. And ther∣fore it wer better to you to lese so moch good of your owne, than for to take of theyr good in thys maner. For better it is to lese good with worship, than to wyn good with vila∣nye and shame. And euerye man ought to do his dilygence and his busynesse, to gette him a good name. And yet shal he not onely busy

him in kepyng hys good name, but he shal al so enforce hym alwaye to do some thynge, by whiche he may renewe hys good name. For it is writtē, that the old good lose of a mā or good name, is soone gone and past, whan it is not renewed. And as touchynge, that ye say that ye wol exile your aduersaries: that thynketh me moche ayenst reason, and out of measure, consydringe the power that they haue yeue you vpon them selfe. And it is wrytten: that he is worthy to lese hys pryui∣lege, that mysuseth y^e might and power that is gyuen hym. And I sette case, ye might en∣ioyne hem y^t payne by right & lawe, whiche I trowe ye maye nat do: I saye, ye myghte not put it to execution, for parauenture than it were lyke to tourne to y^e werre, as it was before. And therfore yf ye woll that men do you obeysaunce, ye muste demean you more curteisly, that is to saye: ye muste yeue more easy sentences and iugement. For it is wryt∣ten: he that most curteisly commaundeth, to hym men moost obey. And therfore I praye you, that in thys necessyte and in thys nede, ye caste you to ouercome youre hert. For as Senet sayth: he that ouercometh hys herte, ouercometh twise. And Tully sayth: there is nothyng so commendable in a great lorde, as whan he is debonaire and meke, and apeseth hym lyghtly. And I praye you that ye woll nowe forbere to do vengeaunce, in suche a maner, that youre good name maye be kepte and conserued, and that men may haue cause and mater to prayse you of pyte and mercye: and that ye haue no cause to repent you of thynge that is done. For Senecke saythe: he ouercometh in an yuel manere, that repen∣teth hym of hys victorie. Wherfore I praye you, let mercy be in your hert, to theffecte and entent, that god almyghty•• haue mercy vpō you in hys last iugement. For saynt Iames sayth in hys Epistel: iugement without mer¦cye shal be do to hym, that hath no mercy of another wight.

WHan Melibee had herde the great skylles and reasons of dame Pru∣dence, and her wyse informations and techynges, hys herte gan en∣clyne to the wyl of hys wyfe: consydryng her trew entent, confirmed hym anon and assen∣ted fully to worke after her counsayle: & than¦ked god, of whome procedeth all goodnesse & vertue, that hym had sent a wyfe of so great discretion. And whan the day came that his aduersaries shulde appere in his prensence, he spake to hem goodly, and sayde in thys wyse.

Al be it so, that of your pryde and high pre¦sumption and foly, and of your negligence & vnconnyng, ye haue misborne you, and tres∣paced vnto me, yet for as mikel as I se and beholde your great humilyte, and that ye be sory and repentaūt of your gyltes, it cōstray∣neth me to do you grace and mercy: wherfore I receyue you to my grace, and forgyue you holy al the offences, iniuries, and wronges, that ye haue don agaynst me and myne, to theffecte & ende, that god of his endlesse mer∣cy wol at the tyme of oure dyeng forgyue vs our gyltes, that we haue trespaced to him in thys wreched worlde. For doutlesse yf we be sory and and repentaunt for the synnes and gyltes, whyche we haue trespaced in y^e syght of oure lord god: he is so fre and so merciable, that he woll forgyue vs oure gyltes, and brynge vs to the blysse that neuer shall haue ende. AMEN.

¶Here endeth the tale of Chaucer and here foloweth the Mon∣kes Prologue.

WHan ended was the tale of Ma¦libee And of Prudence, and her be∣nygnyte Our Host sayd, as I am fayth∣full man And by the precious corps Madrian I had leuer than a barel of ale That Goodlefe my wyfe had herd thys tale For she nothyng is of suche pacience As was thys Melibeus wyfe Prudence By goddes bones, whā I bete my knaues She bringeth me the great clubbed staues And crieth, slee the dogges euerichone And breke bothe backe and euery bone And yf that any neyghbour of myne Wol not in churche to my wyfe enclyne Or be so hardy, to her to trespace whan she cometh hom, she rāpeth in my face And cryeth false cowarde wreke thy wyfe

By corpus domini, I wol haue thy knyfe And thou shalt haue my distaffe, & go spynne Fro day tyl nyght, she wol thus begynne. ¶Alas she saith, that euer she was shape To wedde a mylksop, a cowarde ape That wol be ouerleyde with euery wight Thou darst not stonde by thy wyues right This is my lyfe, but yf that I wold fight And out at dore, anon I mote me dight And els I am lost, but yf that I Be lyke a wylde lyon, fole hardy I wote wel she wol do me slee some day Some neyghbour, and than go my way For I am perlous with knyfe in honde Al be it that I dare not her withstonde For she is bygge in armes be my faithe That shal he fynd, that her mysdoth or saith But lette vs passe away from this matere. ¶My lord he sayd, sir mōke: be mery of chere For ye shal tel vs a tale trewly Lo Rochester stondeth here fast by Ride sorth myne owne lorde, breke not oure game But by my trouthe I knowe not your name whether I shal cal you my lorde dan Iohn Or dan Thomas, dan Robert, or dan Albon Or of what house be ye, by your farther kyn I vowe to god, thou hast a ful fayre chyn It is a gentyl pasture there thou gost Thou arte not lyke a pynaunt or a ghost Vpon my faythe thou arte some officere Some worthy Sexten, or some Celerere For by my fathers soule, as to my dome Thou art a mayster, whan thou art at home No poore cloysterer, ne no poore nouyse But a gouernoure ware and wyse And therwith of brawne and of bones A wel faryng person for the nones I pray to god yeue him confusyon That fyrst the brought in to religyon Thou woldest be a trede foule a right Haddest thou as gret leue as thou hast might To perfourme al thy lust in engendrure Thou haddest begoten many a creature Alas, why werest thou so wyde a cope God yeue me sorowe, and I were pope Not only thou, but euery mighty man Though he were shore hyghe vpon his pan Shuld haue a wyfe, for al this world is lorn Religyon hath take vp al the corne Of tredynge, and borel men ben shrimpes Of feble trees there cometh wretched impes This maketh that our heires be so slender And feble, that they maye not wel engender This maketh that our wyues wol assay Religious folke, for they may better pay Of Venus paymentes, than mowe we God wote no lusheburghs paye ye But be not wroth my lorde, though I playe Full ofte in game a sothe haue I herde saye. This worthy monke toke al in pacience And sayd, I wol do my dilygence As ferre as sowneth in to honeste To tel you a tale, ye two or thre And yf ye lyst to herken hytherwarde I wol you sayne, the lyfe of saynt Edwarde Or els tragedyes fyrst I wol tel. Of whiche I haue an hundred in my cel. Tragedy is to tel a certayne story As olde bokes maken memory Of hem that stode in great prosperyte And be fallen out of hye degre In to mysery, and ended wretchedly And they ben vercifyed comenly Of syxe fete, whiche men cal exametron In prose eke ben endyted many on And in metre, many a sondrye wyse Lo, this ought ynough to suffyse Nowe herkeneth, yf you lyste for to here But fyrst I beseche you in this matere Though I by order tel nat these thynges Be it of Popes, Emperours, or Kynges After her ages, as men written fynde But tellen hem, some before & some behynde As it cometh nowe to my remembraunce Haue me excused of myne ignoraunce.

¶Here endeth the Monkes Pro∣logue, and here begyn∣neth hys tale.

I Wyl bewayle, in maner of tragedy The harme of hem that stoden in hye degre And fyl, so that there nas no remedy To bryng hem out of her aduersyte For certayn, whan that fortune lyst to flye There may no mā of her the course withold Lette no man trust on blynde prosperite Bethware by this ensample yonge and old

¶Lucifer.

AT Lucifer, though he an angel were And nat a mā, at him wyl I begynne For though fortune maye nat angel dere Frō hye degre, yet fel he for his synne Doun in to hel, where he is yet inne O Lucifer, brightest of angels al Now art thou Sathanas, y^t maist nat twyn Out of mysery, in whiche thou arte fal

¶Adam.

¶Lo Adam, in the felde of Damascene With goddes own fynger wrought was he And not begotten of mannes sperm vnclene And welte al paradise sauyng o tree Neuer worldly man had so hye degre As Adam, tyl he for mysgouernaunce Was dryuen out of hys hygh prosperite To labour and to hel, and to myschaunce.

¶Sampson.

¶Lo Samson, which y^t was annunciate By the angel, longe or hys natiuite And was to god almighty consecrate And stode in nobles, while he myght se Was neuer such another, as was he To speke of strength, and therto hardynesse But to his wyues tolde he his secre Through which he slough him for wretched¦nesse

Sampson, this noble & mighty champion without wepen, saue his hondes twey He slough and al to rent the lyon Toward hys weddyng, walking by the wey His false wyfe coulde hym so psese & praye Tyl she his counsayle knewe, & she vntrewe Vnto his foes, his counsayle gan vewray And hym forsoke, and toke another newe

An hundred foxes toke Sampson for yre And al her tayles he togyther bonde And set the foxes tayles al on fyre For he in euery tayle hath put a bronde And they brent al the cornes in that londe And her olyues, and her vynes eke A thousand men eke he slough with his hond And had no wepen, but an asse cheke

whā they were slayne, so thristed him y^t he was wel nye lorne, for which he gan to prey That god wold of his payn, haue some pyte And sende him drinke, or els mote he dey And of this asse cheke, that was so drey Out of a wange tothe, sprange anon a wel Of whiche he dronke ynough, shortly to sey Thus holpe him god, as Iudicum can tel

By very force, at Gasa on a nyght Maugre the Philystens of that cyte The gates of the towne, he hath vp plyght And on hys backe, ycaried hem hath he High on an hyl, where as men myght hem se O noble mighty Sampson, lefe and dere Had thou nat tolde to women thy secre In al this wrolde ne had be thy pere

This Sāpson neither syder drāke ne wyne Ne on his heed cam rasour none ne shere By precepte of the messangere diuyne For al hys strength, in his heeres were And fully twenty yere by yere Of Israel, he had the gouernaunce But after soon shal he wepe many a tere For women shal bryng hym to myschaunce.

Vnto his lemman Dalyda he tolde That in his heeres, al his strength lay And falsely to hys foes she hym solde And slepyng in her barme vpon a day She mad to clyppe or shere his heeres away And made his fomen al his crafte espyen And whan that they him fonde in suche aray They bounde him faste, and put out his eyen

But er hys heeres were clypped or ishaue There was no bonde that might him bynde But nowe is he put in prison in a caue where as they made hym at y^e querne grynde O noble Sāpson, strongest of mankynde O whylom iuge in glorie and rychesse Now mayst thou wepe w^t thyn eyen blynde Sith y^u art from wele fal in to wretchidnesse

The ende of this caytife was, as I shal sey

His fomen made a feest vpon a daye And made him, as their foole byfore hē pley And this was in a temple of great araye But at last he made a foule afray For he two pyllers shoke, & made hem fal And downe fel the temple al, and there it lay And sloughe hym selfe, and eke his fomen all

This is to say, the princes euerychone And eke thre thousād bodyes were ther slayn with fallyng of the great temple of stone Of Sampson wol I no more sayne Beth ware by this ensample olde and playne That no men tel her counsayle to her wyues Of such thyng as they wold haue secret fayn If that it touche her lymmes or her lyues.

¶Hercules.

OF Hercules, the souerayne con∣queroure Syngen hys werkes, laude, & hye renoun For in hys tyme, of strength he bare the floure He slough and rafte the skyn of the lyoun And of the Centaurs, layde the boste adoun He Harpias slewe, the cruel byrdes fel He the golden appels rafte fro the dragon He drewe out Cerberus, the hounde of hel

He slewe the cruel tyraunt Bustrus And made his horse to frete him flesh & bone He slough the very serpent venemous Of Achelous two hornes, brake he that one And he slewe Cacus, in a caue of stone He slough the gyaunt Antacus the stronge He slough the grisly bore, and that anon And bare his heed vpon his spere longe

was neuer wight, sythe the worlde began That slough so many monsters, as dyd he Through the wyde worlde, his name ran what for his strenght and his bounte And euery realme went he for to se He was so stronge, y^t no man might him let And at bothe worldes endes, he Trophe In stede of boundes, of brasse a pyllour set.

¶Alemman had this noble champyon That hight De••anire, as freshe as May And as clerkes make mencion She hath him sent a shyrte freshe and gay Alas this shirte, alas and wel awaye Enuenomed was subtelly with al That er he had weared it halfe a daye It made his fleshe al fro hys bones fal.

But nathelesse, some clerkes her excusen By one that hight Nessus, that it maked Be as be may, I wol her not accusen But on his body, the shyrte he ware al naked Tyl the fleshe was with the venym slaked And whan he sawe none other remedye In hote coles, he hath him selfe iraked For with no venym dayned he to dye

Thus sterfe this worthy mighty Hercules Lo, who may truste in fortune any throwe For him that foloweth al this world of prees Or he be ware, is ofte layde ful lowe Ful wyse is he, that hym selfe can knowe Beware, for whan that fortune lyst to glose Than wayteth she, her mā downe to throwe By suche a waye, as he wolde leste suppose.

¶Nabugodonosor.

THe mighty trone, the precious tresore The glorious septre, and royal mayeste That had the kynge Nabugo∣donosore with tonge vnneth may discryu••d be He twyse wanne Hierusalem, that cyte The vessel of the temple he with him lad At Babilon was his souerayne se In whiche his glorie and his delyte he had.

The fayrest children of the blode royal Of Hierusalem, he dyd do gelde anone And made eche of hem to ben hys thral Amonge al other Danyel was one That was the wysest of euerychone For he the dre••••s of the kyng expowned where as in Caldee clerkes were there non•• That wyst to what fyne his dreme sowned

This proude kyng let make a statu of gold Sixty cubites longe, and seuen in brede To whiche ymage, bothe yonge and olde Commaunded he to loute, and haue in drede Or in a furneys, ful of flames rede He shulde be deed, that wolde not obey But neuer wolde assent to that dede Danyel, ne his yonge felowes twey

¶Thys kynge of kynges, proude and elate wende god, that sytteth in maieste Ne myght hym not byreue of hys estate But sodeynly he lost hys dygnite And lyke a beest, hym semed for to be And eate hey as an oxe, and laye therout In rayne, wyth wylde beestes walked he Tyll a certayne tyme was come aboute

And lyke an Egles fethers were hys heeres And hys nayles lyke byrdes clawes were God releued hym at certayne yeres And yaue him wytte, & thē with many a tere He thanked God, and all hys lyfe in fere was he, to do amysse, or more trespace And er that he layde was on hys bere He knewe y^t god was full of myght & grace

¶Balthaser.

HIs sonne, whyche that hyght Balthasare That helde the reygne after hys fathers daye He by hys father coulde not beware For proude he was of herte, and of aray And eke an ydolaster was he aye Hys hygh estate, assured hym in pryde But fortune cast hym downe, & there he laye And sodeynly hys raygne gan deuyde

A feest he made, vnto hys lordes al Vpon a tyme, he made hem blyth be And then hys offycers gan he call Gothe brynge forth the vessels ({quod} he) whych that my father in hys prosperite Out of the temple of Hierusalem byrafte And to our goddes thanken we Of honoure, that our elders with vs lafte

Hys wyfe, hys lordes, and hys cōcubynes Aye dronken, whyles her appetytes laste Out of these noble vessels, sondrye wynes And on a wall, thys kynge hys eyen caste And saw an hōde armelesse, that wrote faste For feare of whych he quoke, & syghed sore This honde y^e Balthasar made sore agaste wrote (Mane techel phares) and no more

¶In al that lande, magicien was ther none That coude expowne what thys letter ment But Daniel expowned it anone And sayd, kynge, god thy father sent Glorye and honoure, reygne, treasour, & rent And he was proude, & nothynge god he drad And therfore great wrath god vpō him sente And hym byrafte the raygne that he had

He was out caste of mannes companye wyth asses was hys habitacion And eate hey as a beest, in wete and drye Tyl that he knewe, by grace and by reson That god of heauen hath domination Ouer euery reygne, and euery creature And then had God of hym compassyon And hym restored his reygne and his fygure

¶Eke thou y^e art hys sonne, arte proude also And knowest all these thynges priuely And arte rebell to god, and hys foe Thou dranke eke of hys vessels boldly Thy wyfe eke, and thy wenches synfully Dronke of the same vessels sondrye wynis And heryed false goddes cursedly Therfore to the shapen great payne is

This honde was sent fro god, y^t on the wall wrote (Mane techel phares) truste me Thy reygne is done, thou worest not al Deuyded is thy realme, and it shalbe To Medes and to Perciens (quod he) And that same nyght the kynge was slawe And Darius occupyed hys dignite Though he therto had nether ryght ne lawe

Lordynges, here emsample mowe ye take Howe that in lordshyp is no sykernesse For when that fortune wol a man forsake She bereth away hys raygne, & hys rychesse And eke hys frendes, both more and lesse And what man hath frēdes, through fortune Myshap wol make hym enemyes I gesse Thys prouerbe is ful soth, and ful comune

¶zenobia.

ZEnobia of Palmerye quene (As wryteth perciēs of her noblesse) So worthywas in armes, & so kene y^t no wight passed her in hardynesse Ne ī linage, ne ī none other gētilnes Of kynges blode of Perce she is dyscended I say that she had not moste fayrnesse But of her shape she myght not be amended

From her chylhode I fynde that she fledde Offyce of woman, and to woode she went And many a wylde hertes bloode she shedde

wyth arowes brode, that she to hem sent She was so swyfte, that she anone hem hent And when that she was elder, she wolde kyll Lyons, lybardes, and beeres al to rent And in her armes welde hem at her wyll

She durst wylde beestes dennes seke And renne in the mounteyns al the nyght And slepe vnder a bushe, & she coulde eke wrastell by very force, and by very myght wyth any yōge mā, were he neuer so wyght There myght no thynge in her armes stonde She kept her maydenhede frō euery wyght To no man dayned she to be bonde

But at last, her frendes hath her maryed To Odenat, a prince of that countre Al were it so, that she hem longe taryed And ye shall vnderstande, howe that he Had suche fantasyes as had she But nathelesse, when they were knyt in fere They lyued in ioye and in felicite For eche of hem had other lefe and dere

Saue one thynge, she nolde neuer assent By no waye, that he shulde by her lye But ones, for it was her playne entent To haue a chylde, the worlde to multyplye And also sone as she myght aspye That she was not w^t chylde wyth that dede Then wolde she suffer hym do hys fantasye Efte sones, and not but ones out of drede

And yf she were wyth chylde at that caste Nomore shulde he playe that game Tyll fully fourty dayes were paste Then wolde she ones suffre hym the same All were thys Odenat wylde or tame He gate nomore of her, for thus she sayd It was to wyues lechery and shame In other case, yf men wyth hem playde

¶Two sonnes by thys Odenat had she The whych she kept in vertue and lettrure But nowe vnto our tale turne we I saye that so worshypfull a creature And wyse therwyth, and large wyth mesure So penyble in warre, and curteys eke Ne more laboure myght in warre endure was none, though al thys worlde mē wolde seke

Her ryche araye, ne myght not be tolde As well in vessell as in her clothynge She was al clad in pierry and in golde And eke she lefte not for none huntynge To haue of sondry tonges folke knowynge when that she leyser had for to entende To lerne bokes was all her lykynge Howe she in vertue her lyfe myght dyspende

And shortly of thys storye for to treate As doughty was her husbonde as she So that they cōquered many reygnes gre•••• In the Orient, wyth many a fayre cyte Apperteynaunt vnto the maieste Of Rome, & wyth strength helde them faste Ne neuer myght her for men do her slee All the whyle that Odenates dayes laste

Her batayles, who so lyste hem for to rede Agayne Sapor the kynge, and other mo And howe all thys proces fyll in dede why she cōquered, & what title she had therto And after of her myschefe and of her wo Howe that she was besieged, and ytake Let hym to my mayster Petrarke go That wryteth ynough of thys, I vndertake

¶when Odenat was deed, she myghtely The realmes helde, & wyth her owne honde Agaynst her foes she fought truely That ther was no prince ne kynge, in al that londe But were glad, yf they that grace fonde That she ne shulde vpon hys lande werrey wyth her they made alyaunce by bonde To be in peace, and let hem ryde and pley

The Emperour of Rome Claudius Ne hym beforne, the romayne Galyen Ne durst neuer be so coragius Ne none Armen, ne none Egypcien Ne Surrien, ne none Arabien wythin the felde, that durst wyth her fyght Lest y^t she wolde hem wyth her hondes sle•••• Or wyth her meyne, put hem to flyght

In kynges habyte wente her sonnes two As the heyres of her realmes all And Hermanno and Titamallo Her names were, as perciens hem call But aye fortune, hath in her hony gall This myghty quene, may no whyle endure Fortune out of her reygne made her to fal To wretchednesse, and to mysauenture

¶Aurelian, when that the gouernaunce Of Rome came in hys hondes twey He shope vpon thys quene to do vengeaunce And wyth hys legions, he toke hys wey Towarde zenobia, and shortly for to say He made her flye, and at laste her hent And fettered her, and eke her chyldren tway And wan the lōde, & home to Rome he went

Amonge other thynges that he wan Her chare, y^t of golde was wrought & pierre Thys great Romayne, thys Aurelian Hath wyth hym ladde, that for men shulde se Beforne hys tryumphe walked she wyth golden chaynes on her necke hongyng Crowned she was, as after her degre And full of pier••e charged her clothynge

¶Alas fortune, she that whylom was Dredfull to kynges, and to emperoures Nowe gaureth all the people on her, alas And she that helmed was in starke stoures And wan by force townes stronge, & toures Shall on her heed nowe were autremyte And she that bare the septre ful of floures Shal beare a dystaffe, her coste for to quyte

¶Nero.

ALthough that Nero were as vicious As any fende, that lyeth full lowe adoun Yet he, as telleth vs suetoni{us} Al this worlde had ī subiectiō Both este, and west, and Septentrion Of Rubyes, saphers, and of perles whyte were al hes clothes broudred vp and doun For he in gemmes greatly gan delyte

More delycate, more pompous of aray More proude, was neuer Emperour, thē he That ylke cloth that he had wered o day After that tyme, he nolde it neuer se Nettes of golde threde had he great plente To fyshe in Tyber, when him lyst to play Hys lustes were as lawe, in hys degre For fortune as hys frende wolde hym obay

He Rome brent for hys delycacye The Senatours he slewe vpon a day To here how her wyues wolde wepe & crye And slough hys brother, & by his syster laye Hys mother made he in a pytouse aray For her wombe let slytte, to beholde where he conceyued was, so welaway That he so lytell of hys mother tolde

No teeres out of hys eyen, for that syght Ne came, but sayd, a fayre womon was she Great wonder is, that he coude or myght Be domysman, of her deed beaute The wyne to brynge hym, commaunded he And dranke anone, none other wo he made when myght is ioyned vnto cruelte Alas, to depe wyl the venyme wade

In youth a mayster had thys Emperoure To teache hym lettrure, and curtesye For of moralite he was the floure As in hys tyme, but yf hys bokes lye And whyles his mayster had of him mastrye He made hym so connynge and so souple That longe tyme it was or tyrannye Or any vyce, durste in hym vncouple

Senec his maister was, of which I deuyse Bycause Nero had of hym suche drede For he for hys vyces wolde hym chastyse Dyscretly as by worde, and not by dede Syr he wolde saye, an emperour mote nede Be vertuouse, and hate tyrannye For whych he made hym in a bath to blede On both hys armes, tyll he muste dye

Thys Nero had eke of a customaunce In youth, ayenst hys mayster to ryse which afterward, him though gret greuaūce Bycause he ofte wolde hym chastyse Therfore he made hym dye in thys wyse To chose in a bath to dye in thys manere Rather then to haue another turmentyse And thus hath Nero slayne hys master dere

¶Nowe fell it so, that fortune lyst no longer The hygh pryde of Nero to cheryshe For tho he were stronge, yet was she strōger She thought thus, by god I am to nyce To set a man, that is fulfylled of vyce In hye degre, and an emperour hym call By God out of hys sete I woll hym tryce when he lest weneth, sonest shall he fall

The people rose vpon hym on a nyght For hys defaute, and when he it aspyed

Out of his dores anon he hath him dyght Alone, and there he wende haue ben alyed He knocked faste, & aye the more he cryed The faster shette they the dores all Tho wyste he wel, he had him selfe begyled And went his way, no lenger durste he call

The people cryed & rombled vp and doun That w^t his eeres he herde howe they sayde Vhere is this false tyraunt, this Neroun For feare ful nere of his wytte he brayde And to his goddes, right pitously he prayde For socoure, but it might not betyde For drede of this, him thought that he deyde And ranne in to a gardeyn, him to hyde

And in this gardayne, foūde he chorles twey Syttyng by a fyre great and reed And to the chorles two he gan to prey To flee him, and to gyrde of his heed That to his bodye, whan he were deed were no dispyte done, for his diffame Him selfe he slough, he coulde no better rede Of whiche fortune lough and had game.

¶Holofernes.

WAs neuer capitayne vnder a kyng That reignes mo, put in subiectyō Nestrōger was in feld, of al thing As ī his tyme, ne greater ofrenoū Ne more pompous in hygh presumpcioun Than Holopherne, which fortune aye kyste And so lycorously ladde him vp and doun Tyl that he deed was er that he wyste

Not only that this world had of him awe For lesyng of rychesse and lyberte But he made euery man renye his lawe Nabugodonosor was lorde, sayd he None other god shulde honoured be Ayenst his hest, there dare no wight trespace Saue in Bethulia, a stronge cyte where Eliachym was preest of that place

¶But take kepe of y^e dethe of Holopherne Amyd his host, he dronke laye al nyght within his tent, large as is a berne And yet for al his pompe, & al his might Iudith, a woman, as he lay vpright Sleping, his heed of smote, and fro his tente Ful priuely she stale, from euery wight And with his heed, vnto her towne she wēte

¶Antiochus.

WHat nedeth it of Kynge Antio∣chus To tell hys hyghe and royall maieste? Hys great pryde, hys werke venemus For suche an other man nas neuer as he Redeth what that he was in Machabe And redeth the proude wordes that he sayde And why he fyl from his prosperyte And in an hyl, howe wretchedly he deyde

Fortune him had enhaunsed so in pryde That verily he wende he might attayne Vnto the sterres, vpon euery syde And in a balaunce, to wey eche mountayne And al the floodes of the see restrayne And goddes people had he moste in hate Hem wolde he slee, in turment and in payne wenyng that god ne might his pryde abate

And for that Nychanore and Tymothe By iewes were venquished mightyly Vnto the iewes suche an hate had he That he bad greythe his chare full hastely And swore and sayd, ful dispytously Vnto Hierusalem he wolde eftsone To wreke his yre on it ful cruelly But of his purpose was he let ful sone

God for his manace him sore smote with inuysible wounde, aye incurable That in his guttes carfe so and bote That hys paynes were importable And certaynly the wreche was resonable For many a mannes guttes dyd he payne But from his purpose, cursed & dampnable For al his smerte, he nolde him not restrayne

But bade anon, aparayle his hoste And sodainly, or he than was ware God daunted al his pride, & al his boste For he so sore fel out of his chare That al his lymmes and his skyn to tare So that he ne myght go ne ryde But in a chayre, men aboute him bare Al forbrused bothe backe and syde

The wreche of god him smote so cruelly That in his body wicked wormes crept And therwith al he stanke so horribly

That none of hys meyne, that hym kept whether that he woke or els slept Ne myght not of hym the stynke endure And in hys myschefe he wayled & eke wept And knewe god, lorde of euery creature

To all hys hoste, and to hym selfe also Ful lothsome was the stynke of hys carayne No man myght hym beate to ne fro And in hys stynke, & in hys horrible payne He sterfe ful wretchedly on a mountayne Thus hath thys robbour, & thys homicide That many a man made to wepe and plaine Suche gue••don, as belongeth to pryde.

¶Alexander.

THe storye of Alexander is so com∣mune That euery wyght, that hath dys∣cretion Hath herde somwhat or al, of hys fortune Thys wyde worlde, as in conclusyon He wanne by strength, and for hys renoun They were glad for peace vnto hym sende The pryde of man, and bost he layde adoun where so he came, vnto the worldes ende

Comparison myght yet neuer be maked Betwyrre hym, and an other conqueroure For al thys world, for dred of hi hath quaked He was of knyghthode, & of fredome floure Fortune hym made y^e heyre of hygh honoure Saue wyne & womē, nothīg might aswage Hys hygh entent in armes and laboure So was he full of louynge corage.

what price were it to him, though I you told Of Darius, & of a hundred thousande mo Of prynces, erles, and knyghtes bolde whych he conquered, and brought to wo I saye as ferre as a man may ryde or go The world was his, what shuld I more de∣uise For though I wrote & told you euer mo Of hys knyghthode, it myght not suffyse

Twelue yere he reigned, as I rede ī Macha¦be Philippes sonne of Macedone he was That fyrst was kyng of Grece, that countre O worthy gentyl Alexander, alas That euer shulde the fall suche a caas Enpoysoned of thy folke thou were Thy syce, fortune hath tourned in to an ace And yet for the ne wept she neuer a tere

Who shal yeue men teares to complayne The death of gentylnesse, and of fraunchyse That all the worlde welded in hys demayne And yet hym thought it myght not suffyse So ful was hys corage of hygh empryse Alas, who shall me helpe to endyte False fortune, and poyson to dyspyse? The whych of all thys wo I wyte.

¶Iulius Cesar.

BY wysdome, manhode, and hyghe laboure From humble bedde to royal maieste Vp rose he, Iulius the conqueroure That al the occident, by londe and see wan by strength of honde, or els by trete And vnto Rome made hem trybutary And syth of Rome, emperour was he Tyl that fortune wexte hys aduersary

O myghty Cesar, that in Thessaly Ayenst Pompei, father thyne in lawe That of the Orient had the chyualry As ferre as that the daye begynneth to dawe Them through knyghthod hast take & slawe Saue fewe folke, y^e wyth Pompeius fledde Through whych y^u puttest all y^e oriēt in awe Thanke fortune, that so wel the spedde

¶But nowe a lytel whyle I wol bewayle This Pompei, thys noble gouernoure Of Rome, whych that fledde at thys batayle I saye one of hys men, a false traytour Hys heed of smote, to wynne hym fauour Of Iulius, and to hym the heed brought Alas Pompei, of the orient conquerour That fortune vnto suche a fyne the wrought

¶To Rome agayne repayreth Iulius wyth hys triumphe lauriate ful hye But on a tyme Brutus Cassius That euer had of hys hye estate enuye Full priuely had made conspyracye Ayenst thys Iulius, in subtel wyse And caste the place, in whych he shulde dye wyth bodkyns, as I shal you deuyse

Thys Iulius vnto the capitol went Vpon a daye, as he was wonte to gone

And in the capitol, anone hym hent Thys false Brutus, and hys other fone And stycked hym wyth bodkyns anone wyth many a woūde & thus they let him lye But neuer geueched he at no stroke but one Or els at two, but yf hys storye lye

So manly was thys Iulius of herte And so well loued estately honeste That tho hys deedly woūdes so sore smerte Hys mantel ouer hys ••yppes caste he For no man shulde se hys priuety And as he laye in dyenge on a traunce And wyste verely that dye shulde he Of honestye yet had he remembraunce

¶Lucan to the thys storye I recomende And to Sueton, and Valery also That of thys storye wrytten worde & ende Howe that these conquerours two Fortune was fyrst a frende, and sythe a foe No man truste vpon her fauoure longe But haue her in awayte for euer mo wytnesse on all the conquerours stronge.

¶Cresus.

THe ryche Cresus, whylom kynge of Lyde Of whyche Cresus, Cirus sore hym drad Yet was he caught amydde all hys pryde And to brenne, men to the fyre hym lad But such a raine downe frō y^u fyrmamēt shad That queynt the fyre, & made hym to scape But to beware yet no grace he had Tyl fortune on the galowes made him gape

When he escaped was, he could not sten•• For to begyn a newe araye agayne He wende wel, for that fortune hym sent Suche happe, y^t he escaped through y^e rayne That of hys foes he myght not be slayne And eke a sweuen vpon a nyght he mette Of whych he was so proude, & eke so fayne That in vengeaunce he all hys herte sette

Vpon a tree he was as hym thought Ther Iupiter hym wyshe, both backe & syde And Phebus eke a fayre towel him brought To drye him with, & therwith wext his prid And to hys doughter, that stode hym besyde whych y^t he knewe in hye sentence habounde He bade her tell what it sygnyfyed And she his dreme ryght thus dyd expounde

The tree ({quod} she) the galous is to mene And Iupiter betokeneth snowe and rayne And Phebus, wyth hys towel so clene Betokeneth the sonne beames, soth to sayne Thou shalt honged be, father certayne Rayne shall the washe, & sonne shall the drye Thus she warned hym full plat & ful payne Hys doughter, that called was Phanye

And honged was Cresus the proude kynge Hys royall trone myght hym not auayle Tragedye is none other maner thynges Ne ca•• in syngynge crye ne bewayle But for that fortune aldaye wol assayle wyth vnware stroke, y^e reygnes y^t be proude For whē men trusteth her, then wol she fayle And couer her bryght face wyth a cloude.

¶Peter of Spayne.

OO noble, o worthy Petro, glory of Spayne whome fortune helde so hygh in maieste wel ought men thy pytous death complayne Out of thy lande, thy brother made the fle And after at a siege by subtelte Thou were betrayed, & ladde vnto hys tente where as he with hys owne hande slewe the Succedynge in thy raygne and in thy rente

The felde of snowe, w^t thegle of black therin Caught wyth y^e lymrod, coloured as y^e glede He brewe thys cursydnesse, and al this synne The wycked neste was werker of thys dede Not Charles, Oliuer, that toke aye hede Of trouth and honoure, but of Armorike Genilion Oliuer, corrupte for mede Brought thys worthy kynge in such a bryke.

¶Petro kynge of Cypre.

O Worthy Petro, kinge of Cypre also That Alexandrye wanne by hygh mastrye Ful many an hethē wroughtest y^u wo Of whych thyne owne lyeges had enuye And for no thynge, but for thy chyualrye They in thy bed han slayne y^e by y^e morowe Thus can fortune her whele gouerne & gye

And out of ioye bryng men to sorowe

¶Barnabo vicounte.

OF Millan great Barnabo vicounte God of delyte, and scourge of Lumbar∣dye Why shulde I not thyn infortune accounte Sens in astate thou clomben were so hye Thy brothers sonne, y^t was thy double alye For he thy neuewe was, and sonne in lawe Within his prison made the to dye But why ne how not I, y^t thou were slawe.

¶Hugelyne of Pyse.

OF the erle Hugelyne of Pyse the langour There may no tonge tel for pyte But lytell oute of Pyse stonte a toure In whyche toure in pri∣son put was he And with hym ben his lytel children thre The eldest scarsly fyue yere of age Alas fortune, it was a great cruelte Suche byrdes for to put in suche a cage

Dampned was he to dye in that prison For Roger, which that byshop was of Pyse Had on hym made a false suggestyon Through which y^e people gan vpon him rise And put him in prison, in suche a wyse As ye haue herde, and meate & drinke he had So smal, that vnnethe it may suffyse And therwithal it was ful poore and bad

And on a day befel, that in that houre whā that his meate wont was to be brought The geylour shette the doores of the toure He herde it wel, but he spake right nought And in his herte anon there fyl a thought That they for hunger wolde do him dyen Alas ({quod} he) alas that I was wrought Therwith the teeres fyl fro hys eyen

¶His yonge sonne, that thre yere was of age Vnto him said, father father why do ye wepe Whan wyl the geylour bring our potage Is there no morsel breed that ye do kepe I am so hungry, that I may not slepe Nowe wolde god that I might slepe euer Than shuld not hunger in my wombe crepe There nys nothīg but breed y^t me were leuer

¶Thus day by day, this child began to crye Tyl in his fathers arme adowne it laye And sayd, farwel father I mote dye And kyste his father, and deyde the same day And whan the woful father dyd it sey For wo, his armes two he gan to byte And said alas, fortune and welaway Thy false whele, my wo al may it wyte

His children wende, that it for hūger was That he his armes gnewe, and not for wo And sayd: father, do nat so (alas) But rather eate the fleshe vpon vs two Our flesh y^u yaue vs, take our flesh vs fro And eate ynough, right thus they to him said And after that within a day or two They layde hem in his lappe adoun, & deyde

Thus ended is this mighty erle of Pyse Him selfe dispeyred eke, for hungre starfe From hygh estate fortune away hym carfe Of this Tragedy, it ought ynough suffyse Who so wol here it in a longer wyse Redeth the great Poete of Itayle That hyght Dante, for he can it al deuyse Fro poynt to point, not a word wol he sayle.

¶Here endeth the Monkes tale.

¶Here stynteth the knyght the mōke of his tale, and here foloweth the Prologue of the Non∣nes preest.

HO ({quod} the knyght) good sir nomore of this That ye haue said, is right ynough ywys And mokel more, for lytel heuynesse Is right ynough to moche folke, I gesse I saye for me, it is a great disease where as men haue be in welth and ease To here of her sodayne fal, alas And the contrary is ioye and solas As whan a man hath ben in pore estate

And clymbeth vp, and wexeth fortunate And there abydeth in prosperite Such thynges is gladsome, as thynketh me And of suche thyng were good for to tel. Ye ({quod} our Host) by saynt Poules bel Ye say right soth, this Monke clappeth loude He spake, how fortune coue with a cloude I wote not what, and also of a Tragedy Right nowe ye herde, and perdy no remedy It is for to bewaylen, ne complayne That that is done, and als it is a payne As ye haue sayd, to here of heuynesse Sir mōke no more of this, so god you blesse Your tale anoyeth al this company Suche talkyng is not worth a butterfly For therin is there no disporte ne game Therfore sir monke, dā Piers by your name I pray you hertely, tel vs somwhat elles For sykerly, nere clynkyng of your belles That on your bridell honge, on euery syde By heuen kyng, that for vs al dyde I shulde er this haue fal downe for slepe Al though the slough had ben neuer so depe Than had your tale al be tolde in vayne For certaynly, as that these clerkes sayne where as a man may haue none audyence Nought helpeth it to tel hys sentence And wel I wote, the substaunce is in me If any thyng, shal wel reported be Sir, saye somwhat of huntyng I you pray Nay ({quod} this mōke) I haue no lust to play Nowe let an other tel, as I haue tolde. ¶Thā spake our host, w^t rude speche & bolde And sayd, vnto the nonnes preest anon Come nere y^u prest, come hider thou sir Iohn Tel vs such a thing, as may our hertes glade Be blythe, though thou ryde vpon a iade what though thy horse be bothe foule & lene If he wol serue the, recke not a bene Loke that thy herte be mery euer mo ¶Yes sir ({quod} he) yes host, so mote I go But I be mery, iwys I wol be blamed And Right anon, his tale he hath atamed And thus he sayd, vnto vs euerychon This swete preest, this goodly man sir Iohn

¶Here endeth the Prologue of the nonnes preest, and here foloweth hys tale.

A Poore wydowe, some dele ystept in age was whylom dwellyng in a pore cotage Besyde a groue, stondynge in a dale This wydow, of which I tel you my tale Sens the day that she was laste a wyfe In pacience, ledde a ful symple lyfe For lytel was her catel and her rent By husbondrie, of suche as god her sent She foude her self, & eke her doughters two Thre large sowes had she, and no mo Thre kyne, & eke a shepe that hyght Mal wel sooty was her bou••e, and eke her hal In whyche she ete many a slender mele Of poynaūt sauce, ne knewe she neuer a dele Ne deynty morcel passed through her throte Her dyet was accordaunt to her cote Replection ne made her neuer syke A temperate dyete was her phisyke And exercyse, and hertes suffysaunce The goute let her nothing for to daunce Ne apoplexie shent not her heed No wyne ne dranke she, whyte ne reed Her borde was most serued w^t whyte & black Milke & broū breed in which she fōde no lack Seynde bakon, & somtyme an eye or twey For she was as it were a maner dey. ¶A yerde she had, enclosed al aboute with slyckes, and drie dytched without In which she had a cocke hight Chaūteclere In al the londe, of crowyng nas hys pere. His voyce was meryer than the mery orgon On masse dayes, that in the churches gon wel sykerer was his crowyng in hys loge Than is a clocke, or in an abbey an orloge By nature he knewe eche assentioun Of the equinoctial in the toun For whan degrees .xv. were assended Thā crewe he, that it might not be amended His combe was redder than the fyne coral And batelled, as it had be a castel wal His byl was blacke, as any gete it shone Lyke asure were his legges and his tone His nayles whyter than the lylly floure And lyke the burned golde was his coloure. ¶This gentil cocke, had in gouernaunce Seuen hennes, to done his plesaunce which were his susters, and his paramours And wonder lyke to him, as of colours Of whiche the fayrest hewed in the throte

was called fayre damosel Pertelote He fethered her an hundred tymes a daye And she him pleaseth, al that euer she maye Curteys she was, discrete, and debonayre And compenable, and bare her selfe so fayre Sens the tyme that she was seuenyght olde That trulyche, she hath the herte in holde Of Chaunteclere, lokyng in euery lyth He loueth her so, that wel was him therwith But suche a ioye it was to here hem synge whan the bright sunne gan to sprynge In swete acorde, my lefe is ferre in londe For that tyme, as I haue vnderstonde Beestes and byrdes coulde speke and synge ¶And it so fyl, that in the dawnyng As Chaunteclere, amonge his wyues al Sate on his perche, that was in the hal And next hym sate his fayre Pertelote This Chaūteclere gā to grone in his throte As a man in his dreme is drenched sore And whā that Pertelot thus herde him rore She was agaste, and sayd herte dere what eyleth you to grone in this manere Ye be a very sleper, fye for shame. And he answerde thus, by god madame I pray you, that ye take it not in grefe By god I mette, I was in suche mischefe Right now, that yet myn hert is sore a fright Nowe god ({quod} he) my sweuen retche a right And kepe my body out of foule prisoun Me mette, that I romed vp and doun within our yerde, where I sawe a beest was lyke an hoūde, & wold haue made areest Vpon my body, and wolde haue had me deed His colour was betwyxt yelowe and reed And typped was his tayle, & bothe his eeres with black, vnlike the remenāt of his heeres His snowte smal, with glowyng eyen twey Yet for his loke, almoste for feare I dey This causeth me my gronyng doutlesse. ¶Away ({quod} she) fye for shame hertlesse Alas ({quod} she) for by god aboue Nowe haue ye loste my herte, & al my loue I can not loue a cowarde by my faythe For certes, what so any woman saythe we al desyre, yf that it myght be To haue husbondes, hardy, wyse, and fre And secrete, and no nygarde, ne no fole Ne hym that is agaste of euery tole Ne none auauntour, by that god aboue Howe durst ye say for shame, vnto your loue That anye sweuen might make you a ferde? Haue ye no mannes herte, and haue a berde? Alas, and con ye be a ferde of sweuenis? Nothing but vanyte god wotte insweuen is Sweuens ben engendred of replections And of fume, and of complections whan humours ben to habundāt in a wight Certes thys dreme, whyche ye haue met to¦night I tel you trouthe, ye may trust me Cometh of superfluyte, & reed colour parde whiche cause folke to drede in her dremes Of arowes, and of fyre with reed lemes Of reed beestes, that wol hem byte Of conteke, and of waspes great and lyte Right as the humour of melancolye Causeth many a man in slepe to crye For fere of great bulles, and beres blake Or els that blacke dyuels wol hem take Of other humours coulde I tel also That worke a man in slepe moche wo But I wol passe, as lightly as I can. Lo Caton, which that was so wyse a mā Sayd he not thus, do no force of dremes Now sir ({quod} she) whā we flye fro y^e bemes For goddes loue, as taketh some laxatyfe Vp peryl of my soule, and of my lyfe I counsayle you the beste, I wol not lye That bothe of colour, and of melancolye Ye purge you, and for ye shul not tary Though in this towne, be none apotecary I shal my selfe two herbes teche you That shal be for your heale, & for your prow And in our yerde, tho herbes shal I fynde The whiche haue of her properte by kynde To purge you byneth, and eke aboue Foryete not this, for goddes owne loue Ye be right coleryke of complection where the sunne is in his ascention Ne fynde you not replete of humours hote For yf ye do, I dare wel lay a grote That ye shal haue a feuer terciane Or els an ague, that may be your bane A day or two, ye shal haue digestyues Of wormes, or ye take your laxatyues Of laurel, centorie, and of femetere Or els of elder beryes, that growe there Of cataprice, or of gaytres beris Of herbe yue, growing ī our yerde y^t mery is Plucke hem vp as they growe, & eate hem in Be mery husbonde, for your father kyn Dredeth no dreme, I can say you no more. ¶Madame ({quod} he) gramercy of your lore But nathelesse, as touchyng dan Catoun

That of wysdom hath so great renoun Though he bade no dremes for to drede By god, men may in olde bokes rede Of many a man, more of auctorite Than euer Caton was, so mote I the That al the reuers saythe of hys sentence And haue wel founde by experyence That dremes ben signyfycations As wel of ioye, as of trybulations That folke endure, in this lyfe present There nedeth to make of this none argumēt The very prefe sheweth it in dede One of the greatest auctours that mē rede Sayth thus, that whilom two felowes wēt On pylgrimage, in ful good entent And happed so, they come in to a toun where as there was suche congregation Of people, and eke of strayte herbygage That they ne fonde, as moche as a cotage In whiche they bothe might yloged be Wherfore they mote of necessyte As for that nyght, departe company And eche of hem gothe to his host••iry And toke hys lodgyng, as it wolde fal That one of hem, was lodged in a stal Farre in a yerde, with oxen of the plough That other man was lodged wel ynough As was his auenture, or his fortune That vs gouerneth al, as in comune And so befel, longe or it were day This mā mette in his bedde, there as he lay Howe that his felowe gan vpon him cal And sayd (alas) for in an oxes stal This nyght shal I be murdred, there I lye Nowe helpe me dere brother or I dye In al haste, come to me (he sayd) This man out of hys slepe for feere abrayd But whan he was waked of his slepe He turned him, and toke of this no kepe Him thought his dreme was but a vanyte Thus twyse in his slepe dremed he And at the thyrde tyme, yet his felawe Cam as him thouʒt, & sayd I now am slawe Beholde my blody woundes, depe and wyde A ryse vp erly, in the morowe tyde And at the west gate of the towne ({quod} he) A carte ful of donge, there shalt thou se In whiche my body is hydde ful priuely Do thou that carte areste boldly My golde caused my dethe, sothe to sayne And told him euery point how he was slayn with a ful pytous face, pale of hewe And trust wel his dreme, he foūd right trew For on the morowe, as sone as it was day To his felowes inne, he toke the waye And whan that he came to the oxes stal After his felowe, he began to cal The hosteler answerde him anon And sayd, syr your felowe is gon As sone as it was day, he went out of y^e toun This man gan fal in suspectioun Remembring of his dremes that he mette And forthe he goth, no lenger wolde he lette Vnto the westgate of the towne, and fonde A donge carte, as it were to donge londe That was arayed in the same wyse As ye haue herde the deed man deuyse And with hardy herte, he gan to crye Vengeaunce and iustyce of this felonye My felowe murdred is this same night And in this carte he lythe, gapyng vpright I crye out on the mynisters ({quod} he) That shulde kepe and rule this cyte Harowe alas, here lythe my felowe slayne What shulde I more of this tale sayne? The people out starte, & tall y^e carte to groūd And in the myddel of the donge they founde The deed man, that murdred was al newe. ¶O blysful god, that arte so good and trewe Lo, howe thou be wrayest murdre alway Murdre wol out, that se we day by day Murdre is so waltsome and abhomynable To god, that so iuste is and resonable That he ne wol it suffre healed to be Though it abyde a yete, two, or thre Murdre wol out, this is my conclusyoun. And right anon, the mynisters of the toun Haue hente the carter, and sore him pyned And eke the hosteler so sore engyned That they beknewe her wickednesse anone And were hanged by the necke bone Here may ye se, that dremes ben to drede. ¶And certes, in the same lefe I rede Right in the next chapiter after this I gabbe not, so haue I ioye and blys Two men wolde haue passed ouer the se For certayne causes, in to a ferre countre If the wynde ne had be contrarie That made hem in a cyte to tarye That stode ful mery vpon an hauen syde But on a daye, ayenst an euen tyde The wynde gan chaunge, & blew as hem lest Ioly and glad, they went to rest And caste hem ful erly for to sayle

But herken, to one mā fyl a great meruayle To one of hem, in slepyng as he lay He mer a wonders dreme, agayn the day Him thought a mā stode by his beddes syde And hym cōmaunded, that he shulde abyde And sayd him thus, if thou to morow wende Thou shalte be dreynt, my tale is at an ende. ¶He woke, & tolde his felow what he mette And prayed him his voyage for to lette As for that day, he prayed him for to abyde His felowe, that lay by his beddes syde Gan for to laugh, and scorned him ful faste No dreme ({quod} he) may so my herte agaste That I wol let for to do my thynges I set not a strawe for thy dremynges For sweuens ben but vanytees and iapes Men meten alday of oules and of apes And eke of many a mase therwithal And dremen of thing that neuer was, ne shal But sythe I se that thou wolte here abyde And thus slouthe wylfully thy tyde God wote it rueth me, and haue good day And thus he toke his leue, & went his way But er he had halfe his course ysayled I not why, ne what mischaunce it ayled But casuelly the shyppes botome to rent And shyp and men, vnder the water went In fyght of other shyppes besyde That with hem sayled at the same tyde And therfore fayre Pertelot so dere By suche ensamples olde, mayste thou lere That no man shulde be to rechelesse Of dremes, for I say the doutlesse That many a dreme ful sore is for to drede Lo in the lyfe of saynt Kenelm we rede That was Kenelphus sonne, the noble kyng Of Mereturike, how Kenelm mette a thyng A lytel er he were murdred on a day His murder in hys visyon he say His norice him expowned it euery dele His sweuen, and badde him kepe him wele Fro trayson, but he was but seuen yere olde And therfore lytel tale he therof tolde Of any dreme, so holy was his hert By god, I had rather than my shert That ye had herde his legende, as haue I Dame Pertelot, I say to you trewly Macrobius, that writeth the auisyon In Affrike, of the worthy Scipion Affyrmeth dremes, and sayth that they been warnyng of thynges, that we after seen And farthermore I pray you loketh well In the olde Testament, of Danyel Yf he helde dremes for vanyte Rede eke of Ioseph, and there shal ye se wonders ben somtyme, but I say nat al warnyng of thynges, that after shal fal. ¶Lo of Egipt the kyng, that hight Pharao His Baker, and his butteler also Whether they felte none effecte in dremes? who so wol seke actes of sondrie remes May rede of dremes a wonder thyng Lo Cresus, whiche was of Lyde kyng Mette he not that he, satte vpon a tree whiche signifyed he shulde honged be Lo Adromeda, that was Hectors wyfe That day that Hector shulde lefe his lyfe She dremed in the same night beforne Howe the lyfe of Hector shulde be lorne Yf that day he went vnto bataile She warned him, but it might nat auayle He wente for to fyght neuerthelesse But he was slayne anon of Achilles But that tale is to long to tel And eke it is nigh day I may nat dwel Shortely I say, as for conclusyon That I shal haue of this auision Aduersyte: and I say farthermore That I ne tel of laxatyues no store For they ben venemous, I wote it wele I hem defye, I loue hem neuer a dele But let vs speke of myrthe, & stynte al this Madame Pertelot, so haue I blys Of one thyng god hath me sent large grace For whan I se the beautie of your face Ye be so scarlet reed aboute your eyen It maketh al my drede for to dyen For also syker, as In principio Mulier est hominis confusio. ¶Madame, the sentence of this latyn is woman is mannes ioye and his blys For whan I fele on night your softe syde Al be it that I may not on you ryde For that our perche is made so narowe alas I am so ful of ioye and of solas That I defye bothe sweuen and dreme And with y^e worde he flew down fro y^e beme For it was day, and eke the hennes al And with a chucke, he gan hem for to cal For he had founde a corne lay in the yerde Royal he was, and no more a ferde He feddred Pertelot twenty tyme And tradde her eke as oft, er it was prime He loketh as he were a grymme lyoun

And on his toes he romed vp and doun Him deyned not to set his fete to the grounde And chucked, whan he had a corne ifounde And to him than ran his wyues al As royal as a prince in his hal Leaue I this Chaunteclere, in his pasture And after wol I tel of his auenture. ¶whan y^e monthe, in whiche y^e worlde begā That hight Marche, that god first made mā was complete, and passed were also Sythe Marche began, twenty dayes & two Befyl that Chauntecler, in al his pride His seuen wyues walkyng him besyde Caste vp his eyen to the bright sonne That in the sygne of Taurus was ironne Fourty degrees & one, and somwhat more He knewe by kynde, and by none other l••••e That it was prime, & crew w^t a blisful steuē The sunne he sayd is clombe vp to the heuen Fourty degrees & one, & sōwhat more iwys Madame Pertelot, my worldes blysse Herken howe this blisful byrdes synge And se the freshe floures howe they sprynge Ful is myne hert of reuel, and solas But sodainly him fel a sorouful caas For euer the later ende of ioye is wo God wote, worldly ioye is soone ago And if a rethore coude faire endite He in a cronycle myght sauely write As for a souerayne notabilyte Nowe euery wyse man herken to me This storie is also trewe I vndertake As is the boke of Launcelot du Lake That women holde in ful great reuerence Nowe wol I turne ayen to my sentence ¶A col foxe (ful of sleyght and iniquite) That in the groue had wouned yeres thre By hygh ymagynacion a forne caste The same nyght, through the hedge braste In to the yerde, there Chaūteclere the fayre was wonte and eke his wyues to repayre And in a bedde of wortes styl he lay Tyl it was passed vndren of the day waytyng his tyme, on Chaunteclere to fal As gladly done these homycides al That in a wayte lye to murdre men O false murdrer, ruckyng in thy den O newe Scariot, and newe Genylion False dissymuler, O greke Synon That broughtest Troy vtterly to sorowe O Chauntecler, acursed be the morowe That thou in thy yerde flewe from y^e bemes Thou were ful wel warned by thy dremes That ilke day was peryllous to the But what y^t god afore wote, must nedes be After the opynion of certayne clerkes witnesse of him, that any clerke is That in schole is great altercation In this mater, and great disputation And hath ben, of an hundred thousande men But I ne can not boulte it to the bren As can the holy doctour saynt Austyn Or Boece, or the byshop Bradwardyn whether that goddes worthy forewetyng Strayneth me nedely to do a thyng (Nedely clepe I symple necessyte) Or yf the fre choyce be graunted me To do that same thyng, or do it nought Though god forwote it, or it was wrought Or yf his wetyng strayneth neuer a dele But by necessyte condycionele I wol not haue to done of suche matere My tale is of a cocke, as ye shal here That toke his coūsayle of his wife w^t sorow To walke in the yerde vpon the morowe That he had met the dreme, as I you tolde womens counsayles ben ful ofte colde Womens counsayle brought vs fyrst to wo And made Adam fro paradise to go There as he was ful mery, and well at e•••••• But for I not, whom I myght displease If I counsayle of women wolde blame Passe ouer, I sayd it in my game Redeth authors, wher they trete of such ma∣tere And what they say of women, ye inowe here These ben the cockes wordes, and not myne I can of women no harme deuyne. ¶Faire in the sonde, to bathe her merily Lieth Perteloe, and al her susters by Ayenst the sunne, and Chaunteclere so free Songe meryer, than the Mermayde in y^e see For Phisiologus saythe vtterly Howe that they syngen wel and merily And so befyl, as he cast his eye Among the wortes on a butterflye He was ware of this foxe that laye ful lowe Nothyng than lyst hym for to crowe But cried cocke cocke, and vp he stert As one that was affrayde in his hert For naturally, beestes desyreth to flye Fro her contrary, yf he may it se Tho he neuer erst had seen it with his eye. This Chaunteclere, whan he gan hym espye He wolde haue fledde, but the foxe anone

Sayd gentil sir, alas: what wol ye done? Be ye afrayde of me, that am your frende? Nowe certes: I were worse than a fende Yf I to you wolde harme, or villany I am not come your counsayle to espye But trewly the cause of my commyng was onely to here howe ye syng For sothly ye haue as mery a steuen As any angel hath, that is in heuen Therwith ye haue of musyke more felyng Than had Boece, or any that can syng My lorde your father, god his soule blesse And eke your mother, of her gentylnesse Haue in my house ben, to my great ease And certes sir, ful fayne wolde I you please. But for men speken of syngyng, I wol sey So mote I broken wel myn eyen twey ••••ue you, ne herde I neuer man so synge As dyd your father in the mornynge Certes it was of herte, al that he songe And for to make his voyce more stronge He wold so payne him, y^t with both his eyen He muste wynke, so loude he muste cryen And slouden on his typtoes ther withal And stretche forth his necke, longe and smal And eke he was of suche discrecion That there was no man in no regyon That him in songe or wysedom might passe I haue wel redde dan Burnel the asse Among his verses, how y^t there was a cocke For that a preestes sonne yaue hym a knocke Vpō his legges, whyle he was yonge & nyce He made him for to lese his benefyte But certayne there is no comparyson Betwyxt the wysedom and discrecion Of your father, and of his subtylte Nowe syngeth sir, for saynte charyte Let se, can ye your father counterfete. ¶This Chaūteclere his wynges gā to bete As a man that coulde not his treson aspye So was he rauyshed with his flaterye Alas ye lordes, many a false flaterour Is in your courte, & manye a false lesyngour That please you wel more, by my faythe Than he that sothfastnesse vnto you saythe Redeth Ecclesiast of flaterye Beware ye lordes of her trecherye. ¶This Chaūteclere stode hye vpon his toos Stretching his necke, & helde his eyen cloos And gan to crowe loude for the nones And dan Russel the foxe starte vp at ones And by the gorget hent Chaunteclere And on his backe toward y^e woode him bere For yet was there no man that hym sued O desteny, that mayst not be eschued Alas that Chaunteclere flewe fro the bemes Alas his wyfe raught not of dremes And on a friday fyl al this mischaunce O Venus that arte goddesse of plesaunce Sithnes y^t thy seruaūt was this Chaūtecler And in thy seruyce dyd al his powere More for delyte, thā the worlde to multiplye why woldest y^u suffre him on thy day to dye? ¶O Gaulfryde, dere mayster souerayne That whā y^e worthy king richard was slayn with shot, complaynedest his dethe so sore why ne had I nowe thy science and thy lore The friday for to chyde, as dyd ye For on a friday, shortly slayne was he Thā wold I shew you how y^t I coude playn For Chauntecleres drede, and for his payne. ¶Certes suche crye, ne lamentacion Nas neuer of ladyes made, whan that Ilion was won, & Pirrus with his bright swerde whan he hent kyng Priam by the berde And slough him (as sayd Eneidos) As made al the hennes in the cloos whan they had lost of Chaūteclere the syght But soueraynly dame Pertelot shright wel louder than dyd Hasdruballes wyfe whan that her husbonde had loste his lyfe And that the Romayns had brent Cartage She was so ful of turment and of rage That wylfully in to the fyre she sterte And brent herselfe, with a stedfaste herte. ¶O woful hennes, right so cryed ye As whan that Nero brent the cyte Of Rome, cryed the senatours wyues For that her husbondes shulde lese her lyues withouten gylte Nero hath hem slayne Nowe wol I turne to my tale agayne. ¶The sely wydowe, & her doughters two Herde the hennes crye and make wo And out at the dore sterte they anon And sawe the foxe towarde the wodde gon And bare vpon his backe the cocke away And cryed out harowe and wel away A ha the foxe, and after him they ran And eke with staues, many a nother man Ran Col our dogge, Talbot, & eke garlonde And Malkyn, with her distaffe in her honde Ran cowe & calfe, and eke the very hogges For they so sore a ferde were of the dogges And shoutyng of men, and of women eke

They ran so, her herte thought to breke They yellen as fendes do in hel The duckes cryed, as men wolde hem quell The geese for feare flewe ouer the trees Out of the hyues came the swarme of bees So hydous was the noyse, a benedicite Certes Iacke Strawe, ne his meyne Ne made neuer shoutes halfe so shril whan that they wolde any flemmyng kyl As that day was made vpon the foxe Of brasse they blewe the trompes & of boxe Of horne & bone, in which they blew & pou∣ped And therwith they shriked and shouted It semed, as though heuen shulde fal Nowe good men I pray you herken al. Lo howe fortune turneth sodainly The hope and the pride of her enemy This cocke that lay vpon the foxes bake In al his drede, vnto the foxe he spake And sayd, syr: If I were as ye Yet shulde I say, as wyse god helpe me Turneth ayen, ye proude churles al A very pestylence vpon you fal Nowe am I come vnto this woodes syde Maugre your heed, the cocke shal here abyde I wol hym eete in faythe, and that anone ¶The foxe answerd, in fayth it shal be done And as he spake the worde, al sodaynly This cocke brake from his mouthe deliuerly And hygh vpon a tree he slewe anon And whan the foxe sawe that he was gon Alas ({quod} he) o Chaunteclere alas I haue ({quod} he) do to you trespas In as moche as I made you aferde whā I you hent, & brought out of your yerde But sir, I dyd it not in no wicked entent Come downe, & I shal tel you what I ment I shal you say sothe, god helpe me so. ¶Nay than ({quod} he) I shrewe vs bothe two And first I shrew my self, both blode & bones If thou begyle me ofter than ones Thou shalte no more with thy flaterye Do me synge with a wynkyng eye For he that wynketh, whan he shulde se Al wylfully, god let him neuer thee. Nay ({quod} y^e foxe) but god yeue him mischāce That is so indiscrete of gouernance That iangleth, whā that he shuld haue pees ¶Lo, suche it is for to be recheles And neglygent, and truste on f••aterye But ye that holde this tale a lye As of a foxe, of a cocke, and of a hen Taketh the moralyte good men For saynt Poule saythe, al that written is To our doctryne it is written iwys Taketh the fruyte, and let the chaffe be styl Nowe good god, yf that it be thy wyl As saythe my lorde, so make vs al good men And brynge vs to thy hygh blysse. Amen.

¶Here endeth the tale of the nonnes preest, and here foloweth the Manciples prologue.

SIr nonnes preest, oure hoste sayd anone Yblessed be thy breche & euery stone This was a mery tale of Chauntecler But by my trouthe, yf thou were a seculer Thou woldest be a tredfoule a right For yf thou haue corage, as thou hast might The were nede of hennes, as I wene Ye more than seuen tymes seuentene Se whiche brawnes hath this gentil preest So great a necke, and suche a large breest He loketh as a sperhauke with hys eyen Him nedeth not his colours for to dyen with brasyl, ne with grayne of Portyngale But sir, fayre fal you for your tale And after that, he with ful mery chere Sayd to a nother man, as ye shal here. ¶Wote ye not where stondeth a lytel towne Whiche that is called Bob vp and downe Vnder the blee, in Cauntebury way There gan our hoste to ••ape and to play And said, sirs: what dunne is in the myre Is there no man, for prayer ne for hyre That wol awake our felowe behynde A thefe him might ful lightly robbe & bynde Se howe he nappeth, se for cockes bones Howe he wol fal from his horse atones Is that a coke of London, with mischaunce Do him conforte, he knoweth his penaunce For he shal tel a tale by my fey Al thought it be not worthe a botel of hey Awake thou coke ({quod} he) god yeue the sorowe what eyleth the to slepe by the morowe Hast thou had steen al night, or art y^u dronke Or hast y^u al night with som queen iswonke

So that thou mayste not hold vp thyn heed. This coke that was ful pale, & nothing reed Sayd, sir host: so god my soule blesse There is fal on me great heuynesse But I not why, me were leuer to slepe Than the best gallon of wyne in chepe ¶Wel ({quod} the Manciple) yf it may do ese To the sir coke, and to no wight displese whiche that here ryde in this companye And that our hoste wyl of his curtesye I wol as nowe excuse the of thy tale For in good faythe thy visage is ful pale Thyn eyen dase, sothely as me thynketh And wel I wot, thy breth ful sowre stinketh That sheweth wel thou art not wel disposed Of me certayne thou shalt not be glosed Se howe he galpeth, lo this dronkē wight As though he wolde vs swalow anon right Holde close thy mouthe, by thy father kyn The dyuel of hel set his fote therin Thy ••ursed ••rethe wyl enfecte vs al Fye slynking swyne, fye soule mote the befal Taketh hede sirs of this lusty man ••owe swete sir, wol ye iuste at the van Therto me thynketh ye be wel shape I trowe that ye haue dronken wyne ape And that is whan men play at strawe. And w^t his speche the coke wexed al wrawe And on the manciple he gan to nodde faste For lacke of spech•• & down his horse him cast where as he lay, tyl that men him vp toke This was a fayre cheuesaunce of a coke Alas that he ne had holde him by his ladyl And er that he ayen were in the sadyl There was a great shouyng to and fro To lyfte him vp, and moche care and wo So vnweldy was this sely palled goste And to the Manciple than spake our host. ¶Bycause that drinke hath domynation Vpon this man, by my saluation I trowe leudely wol he tel his tale For were it wyne, or olde moysty ale That he hath dronke, he speketh so in y^e nose And snyueleth fast, and eke hathe the pose He also hath to do more than ynough To kepe him on his caple out of the slough And yf he fal from his caple efte sone Than shal we al haue ynough to done In lyftyng vp his dronken corce Tel on thy tale, of hym make I no force But yet Manciple, in fayth thou art to nyce Thus openly to repreue him of his vyce An other day he wol parauenture Recleyme the, and bring thy to lure I mene he speke wyl of smale thynges And for to pynche at thy rekenynges That were not honest, yf it came to prefe. ¶No ({quod} y^e Manciple) y^t were a gret mischefe So myght he bringe me in to the snare Yet had I leuer paye for the mare which he rydeth on, thā he shuld w^t me stryue I wol not wrathe him, so mote I thriue That I spake, I sayd it but in bourde And wote ye what, I haue here in my gourd A draught of wyne, ye of a rype grape And right anon ye shal se a good iape This coke shal drinke therof, yf I maye Vp payne of my lyfe he wol not say naye And certaynly, to tellen as it was Of this vessel the coke dranke faste, alas what nedeth it, he dranke ynough beforne And whan he had pouped in his horne To the Manciple he toke the gourde agayne And of the drinke the coke was ful fayne And thonked him, in suche wyse as he coude Than gan our host to laugh wōder loude And sayd: I se wel it is necessary wher that we gon, good drinke w^t vs to cary For that wyl turne rancoure and disese To accorde & loue, and many a worde to pese O Bacchus, yblessed be thy holy name That so canste turne ernest in to game worshyp and thonke be to thy deite Of that mater ye get no more of me. Tel on thy tale thou Manciple, I the pray wel sir ({quod} he) herkeneth what I say.

¶Here endeth the Manciples prologue, and here folo∣weth hys tale.

[illustration]

WHan Phebus dwelled here in erth adoun As old bokes make mē∣cioun He was the moste lusty bacheler Of al the worlde, and eke the best archer He slough Phetou the serpent as he lay Slepyng ayenst the sunne vpon a day And many a nother noble worthy dede He with his bow wrought, as mē mow rede Play he coulde on euery mynstralcye And synge, that it was a melodye To here of his clere voyce the soun Certes the kyng of Thebes, Amphion That with his songe, walled the cyte Coude neuer synge halfe so wel as he Therto he was the semelyst man That is or was, sythe the worlde began what nedeth it his feture to discryue? For in this worlde nas none so fayre a lyue He was therwith fulfylled of gentylnesse Of honoure, and of perfyte worthynesse This Phebus, y^t was floure of bachelerye As wel in fredome, as in chyualrye For his disporte, in signe eke of victory Of Pheton, so as telleth vs the story was wonte to beare in his honde a bowe Now had this Phebus in his house a crow within a cage ifostred many a daye And taught it speche, as men teche a iaye whyte was thys crowe, as is a whyte swan And countrefete the speche of euery man He coulde, whan he shulde tel a tale There was in al this world no nightyngale Ne coulde, by an hundred thousande dele Synge so wonderly mery and wele Now had this Phebus in his house a wife whiche that he loued more than his lyfe And nyght and day, dyd euer his dyligence Her for to plese, and do her reuerence Saue onely, yf I the sothe shal sayne Ielous he was, & wolde haue kept her fayne For him were lothe, iaped for to be And so is euery wight, in suche degre But al for naught, for it auayleth nought A good wife, y^t is clene of werke & thought Shulde not be kept in none awayte certayn And trewly the labour is in vayne To kepe a shrewe, for it wol not be This holde I for a very nycete To spyl laboure, for to kepe wyues Thus writen olde clerkes in her lyues But nowe to purpose, as I fyrst began This worthy Phebus, dothe al that he can To plese her, wenyng through such plesaūce And for his manhode, & for his gouernaunce That no man shulde put him from her grace But god it wote, there may no man enbrace As to distrayne a thyng, which that nature Hath naturally set in a creature Take any byrde, and put him in a cage And do al thyne entent, and thy corage

To foster it tenderly with meate and drinke Of al daynties that thou canste be thynke And kepe it also clenly as thou may Al though the cage of golde be neuer so gay Yet had this byrde, by twēty thousand folde Leuer in a forest, that is wyde and colde Go cete wormes, and suche wretchydnesse For euer this byrde wyl do his besynesse To escape out of his cage whan he maye His lyberte the byrde desyreth aye. Let take a catte, & foster her with mylke And tender fleshe, & make her couche of sylke And let her se a mouse go by the wal Anon she weyueth fleshe, & couche, and al And euery deyntie, that is in that house Suche appetyte hath she to erte the mouse Lo here hath luste his domynacion And appetyte flemeth discrecion. A she wolfe, hath also a vylanous kynde The leudest wolfe that she may fynde Or l••ste of reputacion, that wol she take In tyme whan her luste to haue a make Al these ensamples speke I by these men That ben vntrue, & no thyng by women For men haue euer a lycorouse appetyte On lower thyng, to perfourme her delyte Than on her wyues, be they neuer so fayre Ne neuer so trewe, ne so debonayre Fleshe is so newfangel, with mischaunce That we ne conne in nothyng haue pleasaūce That sowneth vnto vertue, any whyle. ¶This Phebus, whiche thought no gyle Disceyued was, for al his io••yte For vnder him an other had she A man of lytel reputation Nought worthe to Phebus, in comparyson The more harme is, it happeth ofte so Of whiche there cometh moche harme & wo And so befel, whan Phebus was absent His wyfe anon hath for her lemman sent Her lemman, certes that is a knauysh speche Foryeue it me, and that I you beseche. ¶The wyse Plato saythe, as ye mowe rede The worde must nedes acorde with the dede If men shulde tel properly a thyng The worde muste cosyn be to the werkyng I am a boystouse man, right thus say I There is but lytel difference truely Betwyxt a wyfe, that is of hye degre If of her body dishonest she be And a poore wenche, other than this If it so be they werke bothe amys But for the gentyl is in estate aboue She shal be called his lady and his loue And for that tother is a poore woman She shal be called his wench, or his lemmā And god it wote, myn owne dere brother Men lay as lowe that one as that other Right so betwixt a tytlelesse tyraunt And an outlawe, or a thefe erraunt The same I say, there is no dyfference To Alysaunder was tolde this sentence That for the tyraunt is of greater might By force of meyne, to slee downe right And brenne house & home, & make al playn Lo therfore is he called a capitayne And for the outlawe hath but smal meyne And may not do so great an harm, as he Ne brynge a countrey to so great mischefe Men callen him an outlawe or a thefe. ¶But for I am a man not textuele I wol not tel of textes neuer a dele I wol go to my tale, as I began. Whā Phebus wife had sent for her lemmā Anon they wrought al theyr luste volage This whyte crowe, that hynge aye in y^t cage Behelde their werke, and said neuer a worde And whā hom was come Phebus y^e lorde This crowe songe, cuckow, cuckow, cuckow what birde ({quod} Phebus) what syngest thou? Ne were thou not wont so merily to synge That to my herte it was a reioysyng To here thy voyce, alas, what songe is this? ¶By god ({quod} he) I synge not amys Phebus ({quod} he) for al thy worthynesse For al thy beaute, and thy gentylnesse For al thy songe, and thy mynstralsye For al thy waytyng, blered is thyn eye with one of lytel reputatyon Not worthe to the in comparison The mountenāce of a gnat, so mote I thriue For on thy bed, thy wife I sawe hym swyne what wol ye more? y^e crow anon him told By sadde tokens, and by wordes bolde Howe that his wyfe had done her lechery Him to great shame, and to great vyllany And tolde him eft, he sawe it with his eyen ¶This Phebus gan awayward for to priē Him thought his woful herte braste a two His bowe he bent, and set therin a flo And in his yre he hath his wyfe slayne This is the effecte, there is no more to sayne For sorow wherof, he brake his mynstralsye Bothe harpe and lute, getern, and sautrye

And eke he brake his arowes, and his bowe And after that, thus spake he to the crowe. ¶Traytour ({quod} he) with tonge of scorpion Thou haste me brought to my confusyon Alas that I was wrought, why nere I deed O dere wyfe, o gemme, o lusty heed That were to me so sadde, & eke so trewe Now lyest thou deed, with face pale of hewe Ful gyltlesse, that durst I swere iwys O rakel honde, to do so foule amys O troubled wytte, o yre retchelesse That vnauysed smytest gyltlesse O wantrust, ful of false suspection Where was thy wytte and thy discretion Oh, euery man beware of rekylnesse Ne trowe no thyng, without strōg wytnesse Smyte not to sone, or thou wete why And be auysed wel and sykerly Or ye do any execution Vpon your yre, for suspection Alas, a thousande folke hath rekel yre Fully fordone, & brought hem in the myre Alas, for to sorowe I wol my selfe sle And to the crowe, o false these said he I wol quite anon thy false tale Thou songe whylom, lyke a nyghtyngale Nowe shalt thou false thefe, thy song forgon And eke thy whyte fethers euerychon Ne neuer in al thy lyfe shalte thou speke Thus shul men on a traytour be awreke Thou & thyn of spring euer shal be blake Ne neuer swete noyse shal ye make But euer cryen ayenst tempest and rayne In token, that through the my wife is slayne And to the crowe he sterte, and that anon And pulled of hys whyte fethers euerychon And made him blacke, & reft him al his songe And eke his speche, & out at dore him slonge Vnto the dyuel, whiche I him betake And for this cause ben al crowes blake. ¶Lordīges, by this ensāple I wol you pray Beware, and take kepe what I say Ne telleth neuer no man in your lyfe Howe that an other mā hath dight his wife He wol you hate mortally certayne Dan Salomon, as wyse clerkes sayne Techeth a man to kepe his tonge wel But as I sayd, I am not tertuel But nathelesse, thus taught me my dame My sonne, thinke on y^e crowe a goddes name My sōne kepe wel thy tonge, & kepe thy frēde A wycked tonge is worse than a fende My sonne, from a fende men may hem blesse My sonne, god of his endelesse goodnesse walled a tonge with tethe, and lyppes eke For man shulde him auyse what he speke My sonne, ful ofte for to mykel speche Hath many a man be spylte, as clerkes teche But for lytel speche, spoken auysedly Is no man shente, to speke generally My sonne, thy tonge shuldest thou restrayne At al tymes, but whan thou doest thy payne To speke of god, in honoure and prayere The fyrst vertue sonne, yf thou wolt lere Is to restrayne, and kepe wel thy tonge Thus lerne children, whan they be yonge My sonne, of mykel spekyng vnauysed (There lasse spekyng had ynough suffysed) Cometh mykel harme, thus was me taught In moche speche, synne wanteth naught woste thou wherfore a rakel tonge serueth Right as asworde forcutteth and forke••ueth An arme on two, my dere sonne right so A tonge cutteth frendshyp al a to A tangler is to god abhomynable Rede Salomon, so wyse and honourable Rede Dauid in his psalmes, rede Senecke My sonne speke not, ne wyth thy heed deck•• Dissimule as thou were deefe, if y^t thou here The ianglour speketh of perious matere. The flēming sayth, lerne if that thou leste That lytel ianglyng causeth moche reste My sonne, if thou no wicked word hast saide The dare not drede for to be bewrayde But he that hath missayd, I dare wel sayne He may by no way clepe his worde agayne Thyng that is sayd, is sayd, & forthe it gothe Though him repent, or him be neuer so loth He is thral to him, to whom he hath sayde A tale, for whiche he is nowe yuel apayde My sonne beware, & be none auctour newe Of tidynges, whether they be false or trewe Where so thou come, amonge hye or lowe Kepe wel thy tonge, & thynke on the crowe.

¶Here endeth the Manciples tale, and here begynneth the Per∣sons Prologue.

BY that the Manciple had hys tale ended The sonne fro the south syde is dyscended So lowe, that it was not to my syght Degrees of fyue and twē¦tye on hyghte Ten a clocke it was, so as I gesse For elleuen foote, a lytell more or lesse My shadowe was at that tyme, as there Of suche fete as my lengthe parted were In syxe fete equally of proportion ••••••rwyth the Moones exaltation I meane Libra, alwaye gan ascende As we were entrynge at the thropes ende For which our hoste, as he was wont to gye Aye in thys case, thys ioly companye Sayd in thys wyse, lordynges euerychone Nowe lacketh vs no tale more then one Fulfylled is my sentence and my decre who woll nowe tell a tale let se Almoste fulfylled is myne ordinaunce I pray to god so yeue him ryght good chaūce That telleth thys tale to vs lustely Syr preest ({quod} he) arte thou a vicary Or arte thou a person, say soth by thy fay Be what thou be, breke thou not our play For euery man saue thou, hath tolde his tale Vnbokell, & shewe vs what is in thy male For truely me thynketh by thy chere Thou shuldest knyt vp well a great matere Tell vs a fable anone, for kockes bones ¶Thys person hym answerde all at ones Thou gettest fable none tolde of me For Paule, that wryteth to Timothe Repreueth hem that wayuen sothfastnesse And teachen fables, and suche wretchednesse why shulde I sowe draffe out of my fyst when I maye sowe wheate, yf that my lyst For whych I saye, yf that ye lyst to here Moralite, and of vertuous matere And then, yf ye woll yeue me audience I wolde full fayne at Christes reuerence Done you pleasaunce lefull, as I can But trusteth well, I am a sotherne man I can not ieste, rum, ram, ruf, by letter And god wote, ryme holde I but lytel better And therfore yf ye lyst, I woll not glose I woll you tell a lytell tale in prose To knyt vp al thys feest, and make an ende And Iesu for hys grace, wyt me sende To shewe you the waye, in thys voyage Of thylke perfyte gloriouse pylgrimage That hyght Hierusalem celestiall And yf ye vouchsaue, anone I shall Begyn vpon my tale, for whych I pray Tel your aduyse, I can no better say But nathelesse thys meditacion I put it aye, vnder the correction Of clerkes, for I am not textuell I take but the sentence, trusteth well Therfore I make protestation That I woll stande to correction. ¶Vpon thys worde we haue assented sone For as it semed, it was for to done To ende in some vertuous sentence And for to yeue hym space and audience And bad our hoste he shulde to hym saye That all we, to tell hys tale hym pray Our hoste had the wordes for vs all Syr preest ({quod} he) nowe fayre mote you befal Sayeth what ye lyste, & we shal gladly here And wyth that word he sayd in this manere Telleth ({quod} he) your meditation But hasteth you, the sunne woll adoun Beth fructuous, and that in lytell space And to do wel, god sende you his grace.

¶Here endeth the Persones pro∣logue, and here after fo∣loweth hys tale.

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¶Ieremi .vi. State super vias, et vt dete, et interrogate de semitis anti∣quis, que sit via bona, ambulate in ea et inuenietis refrigerium animabus vestris.

OVr swete Lorde God of heuen, wolde that no mā shulde peryshe, but that we tourne al to the know lege of hym, & to the blys∣full lyfe that is perdura∣ble, amonysheth vs by the prophete Ieremye, that sayeth in thys wyse. Standeth vpon the wayes and seeth, and as∣keth of olde pathes: that is to saye, of olde sentences, whych is the good waye, and wal¦keth in that waye, and ye shall fynde refresh∣ynge for your soules. &c. Many be the wayes espirituels that lede folke to oure Lorde Ie∣su Christe, and to the reygne of glorye: Of whych wayes there is a full noble way, and full couenable, which maye not fayle to man ne to woman, that through synne hath mys∣gone fro the ryght waye of Hierusalem cele∣stiall: and thys waye is called penitence, of whych man shulde gladly herkē and enquire wyth al hys herte, to wete what is penitēce, and whych is called penitence, and how ma∣ny maners bene of actions or werkynges of penitence, and howe many speces there bene of penitence, and whych thinges appertayne and behoue to penitence, and which thynges dystourbe penitence.

Saynt Ambrose sayeth, that penitence is the playnynge of man for the gylte y^t he hath done, & no more to do any thynge for whych him ought to playne. And some doctoure say¦eth, Penitence is the waymentynge of man that soroweth for his synne, and paineth him selfe, for he hath mysdone Penitēce wyth cer¦tayne circumstaunces, is very repentaūce of a man that holt hym selfe in sorowe, & other payne for hys gyltes: and for he shalbe very penytent, he shall fyrst bewayle synnes that he hath done, and stedfastlye purpose in hys herte to haue shryfte of mouth, and to do satis¦faccion, and neuer to do thynge, for whyche hym ought more bewayle or complayne, and continue in good workes: or els hys repen∣taunce maye not auayle. For as saint Isoder sayeth. He is a iaper and a lyer, & no very re∣pentaunt, that eftsone doth thinge, for which hym ought repent. Wepynge and not for to stynte to do synne, may not auayle: But nat∣thelesse mē shal hope that at euery tyme that man falleth, be it neuer so ofte, that he maye aryse through penaūce, yf he haue grace: but certayne it is great doute, for as sayeth saynt Gregorye. Vnnethes aryseth he out of synne that is charged wyth y^e charge of yuel vsage.

And therfore repentaunt folke, that stynt for to synne, and leue synne or synne leue them, holy churche holdeth them syker of theyr sal∣uacion. And he that synneth, and verely repē¦teth hym in hys laste ende: holy churche yet hopeth hys saluacion, by the great mercye of our Lorde Iesu Christ, for hys repentaunce: but take the syker waye.

¶And nowe syth I haue declared you, what thynge is Penitence, now ye shal vnderstād, that there ben thre actions of penitence. The fyrst is, that a man be baptysed after that he hath synned. Saynt Austyn sayeth, but he be penitent for hys olde synfull lyfe, he maye not begynne the newe clene lyfe: For certes yf he be baptysed wythout penitence of hys olde gylte, he retayneth y^e marke of baptyme, but not the grace ne the remissyon of hys syn¦nes, tyll he haue very repentaunce. An other defaute is thys, that men do deedly synne af∣ter that they haue receyued baptysme. The thyrde defaute is thys, that men fall in veni∣all synnes after her baptysme, fro day to day. Therof sayeth saynt Augustyne, that peni∣tence of good and humble folke, is the peni∣tence of euery daye.

The speces of penitence ben thre: That one of hem is solempne: an other is cōmune, & the thyrd is priuy. That penaūce that is so¦lempne is in two maners: As to be put out of holy churche in lent, for slaughter of chyl∣dren, and suche maner thynge. An other is when a man hath synned openly, of whyche synne the fame is openly spoken in the coun∣trey: and then holy church by iugement, dy∣strayneth hym for to do open penaunce.

Cōmen penaunce is, that preestes enioyne men in certayne case:* 1.1 as for to go perauēture naked in pylgrymage, or barefote. Priuy pe∣naunce is that, that men do al daye for priuy synnes, of whych we shryue vs priuely, and receyue priuy penaunce.

¶Nowe shalt thou vnderstande, what is be∣houefull and necessarye to very perfyte peny∣tence: and thys stonte on thre thynges. Con∣tricion of herte, confession of mouthe, and sa∣tisfaction. For whych sayth saynt Iohn Chri¦sostome. Penitence dystrayneth a man to ac∣cept benignely euery payne, that hym is en∣ioyned, wyth contricion of herte, and shryfte of mouthe, wyth satisfaction: and in wer∣dynge of all maner humilite. And thys is frutefull penitence ayenst thre thynges, in whyche we wrath our Lorde Iesu Christe: thys is to saye: By delyte in thynkynge, by retchlesnesse in speakinge, and by wycked syn full werkynge. And ayenst these wycked gyltes is penitence, that maye be lykened vn¦to a tree.

The roote of thys tree is contricion, that hydeth hym in the herte of hym that is verye repentaūt, ryght as the roote of a tree hydeth hym in the earth. Of thys roote of contricion spryngeth a stalke, that beareth braunches & leues of confessyon, and frute of satisfaction. For whych Christ sayth in hys gospel. Doth digne fruyte of penitence, for by thys fruyte men maye knowe the tre, and not by the rote that is hyde in the herte of man, ne by y^e braū¦ches, ne the leues of confession. And therfore our Lorde Iesu Christ sayeth thus: By the fruyte of hem shall ye knowe hem. Of thys roote also spryngeth a sede of grace, y^t whych sede is mother of all sykernesse, and thys sede is egre & hote. The grace of thys sede spryn¦geth of God, through remembraunce of the daye of dome, and on the paynes of hell. Of thys mater sayeth Salomon, that in y^e drede of God, man forletteth hys synne. The heate of thys sede is the loue of God, and the desy∣rynge of the ioye perdurable: Thys hete dra¦weth the herte of man to God, and doth him hate hys synne: For sothly there is nothynge that sauoureth so well to a chyld, as y^e mylke of hys nouryce, ne nothynge is to hym more abhominable then that malke, whē it is med¦led wyth other meate. Ryght so the synfull man that loueth hys synne, hym semeth that it is to hym moost swete of any thynge, but fro that tyme he loueth sadlye our Lorde Ie¦su Christe, and desyreth the lyfe perdurable, there is to hym nothinge more abhominable For sothly the lawe of god is the loue of god For whyche Dauid the prophete sayeth: I haue loued thy lawe, and hated wyckednesse. He that loueth God, kepeth hys lawe and hys worde.

¶Thys tree sawe the prophete Daniell in spirite, on the visyon of Nabuchodonosor, when he counsayled hym to do penitence. Penaunce is the tree of lyfe, to hem that it receyue, and he that holdeth hym in very pe∣nitence is blessed, after the sentence of Salo∣mon. In thys penitence or contricion, man

shal vnderstand foure thynges, that is to say what is contrityon, and whyche ben the cau∣ses that moue a man to contricion, and howe he shulde be contryte, and what contricion auayleth to the soule. Then is it thus that contricion is the very sorowe, that a mā receyueth in hys herte for hys synnes, wyth sadde purpose to shryue hym, and to do pe∣naunce, and neuer more to do synne: And thys sorowe shalbe in thys maner, as sayeth saynt Bernarde: It shalbe heuye and gre∣uous, and full sharpe and poynaunt in herte.

¶Fyrste, for a man hath agylted hys lorde and hys creatoure, and more sharpe and poy∣naunt, for he hath agylted hys father celesti¦all: And yet more sharpe and poynaunt, for he hath wrathed & agylted him that bought hym, that wyth hys preciouse bloude hath de¦lyuered vs fro the bondes of synne, and fro the cruelte of the dyuell, and fro the paynes of hell.

The causes that ought moue a man to cō∣tricion bene syxe. Fyrste a man shall remem¦bre hym of hys synnes, but loke that that re∣membraunce ne be to hym no delyte, by no waye, but great shame & sorowe for hys syn∣nes. For Iob sayeth, synfull men done wor∣kes worthy of confessyon. And therfore say∣eth Ezechiel: I wol remembre me al the ye∣res of my lyfe, in the bytternesse of my herte And God sayeth in the Apocalypse: Remē∣bre ye from whence that ye be fall, for before that tyme that ye synned, ye were chyldren of God, and lymmes of the raygne of God: But for youre synne ye be waren thrall and foule and membres of the fende: hate of aungels, slaunder of holye churche, and foode of the false serpent, perpetual matere of the fyre of hel: And yet more foule and abhominable, for ye trespace so oft tymes, as doth an hoūde that returneth ayen to eate hys owne spew∣ynge: and yet be ye fouler, for youre longe cō¦tinuynge in synne, and youre synfull vsage, for whyche ye be rooted in youre synne, as a beest in hys donge. Suche maner of though∣tes make a man to haue shame of hys synne, and no delyte. As God sayeth, by the prophet Ezechiel: ye shal remēbre you of your wayes and they shal dysplease you sothly. Synnes ben the wayes that lede folke to hell.

THe seconde cause that oughte make a man to haue dysdayne of sinne is this, that as sayeth saynt Peter: who so doth syn, is thrall of synne, and synne putteth a man in great thral∣dome. And therfore sayeth the prophete Eze∣chiel: I wente sorowfull, in dysdayne of my selfe. Certes well ought a mā haue dysdayne of synne, and wythdrawe hym fro that thral∣dome and vylanye. And lo what sayeth Se∣neke in thys mater, he sayeth thus: Though I wyste, that neyther God ne man shulde ne¦uer knowe it, yet wolde I haue dysdayne for to synne. And the same Seneke also sayeth: I am borne to greater thynge, thē to be thral to my body, or for to make of my body a thral Ne a fouler thrall maye no man ne woman make of hys bodye, then for to yeue his body to do synne, al were it y^e foulest churle, or the foulest woman that lyueth, and lest of value, yet is he then more foule and more in serui∣tude. Euer fro the hygher degre that man fal¦leth the more is he thrall, and more to God & to the worlde vyle & abhomynable. O good God, well ought man haue great dysdayne of synne, sythe that throughe synne, there he was free he is made bonde. And therfore say¦eth saynt Austyne: Yf thou hast dysdayne of thy seruaunt, yf he oftēde or synne, haue thou then dysdayne that thou thy selfe shuldest do synne. Take rewarde of thyne owne value, that thou ne be to foule to thy selfe. Alas wel ought they then haue dysdayne to be seruaū∣tes and thralles to synne, and sore to be asha∣med of them selfe, that God of hys endlesse goodnesse hathe sette in hygh astate, or yeue hem wytte, strength of bodye, heale, beauty, or prosperite and boughte hem fro the death wyth hys herte bloude, that they so vnkynd∣lye agaynst hys gentylnesse quyte hym so vy¦laynously to slaughter of her owne soules. O good God ye women that bene of greate beautye remembreth you on the prouerbe of Salomon. He sayeth he lykeneth a fayre wo¦man that is a foole of her body to a rynge of golde y^t were worne on the groyne of a sowe For ryghte as a sow wroteth in euery ord••ne so wroteth she her beaute in stynkyng ord••••e of synne.

THe thyrde cause that oughte meue a man to contricion, is drede of the daye of dome, & of the horrible paynes of hel. For as saynt Ierome sayeth: At euery tyme that me remē∣breth of the daye of dome, I quake: For whē I eate and drynke, or what so that I do, euer semeth me that the trompe sowneth in myne eare: Ryseth ye vp that bene deed, & cōmeth to the iudgement. O good God, moch ought a man to drede suche a iugement, ther as we shalbe al, as saint Poule sayeth, before y^e sete of our Lorde Iesu Christe, where as he shal make a generall congregation, where as no man may be absent, for certes there auayleth none essoyne ne excusation, and not only that oure defautes shalbe iuged, but also that all our w••rkes shal opēly be knowē. And as say¦eth saint Bernarde, there ne shal no pleading auayle, ne no sleyght: we shal yeue rekenyng of euery ydell worde. There shall we haue a iuge that maye not be dysceyued ne corrupte, and why? For certes, all our thoughtes bene dyscouered, as to hym, ne for prayer ne for mede, he shall not be corrupte. And therfore sayeth Salomō: The wrath of God ne wol not spare no wyght, for prayer ne for yeffe. And therfore at the daye of dome, there is no hope to escape. Wherfore as sayeth saint An¦selme: full greate anguyshe shall the synfull folke haue at that tyme: There shal y^e fyerce and wroth iuge sytte aboue, and vnder hym the horrible pytte of hell open, to destroy him that muste be knowe hys synnes, whych syn∣nes openlye ben shewed before God & before euery creature: And on the lefte syde, mo dy∣uels then any herte may thynke, for to hale & drawe the synfull soules to the payne of hel, and wythin the hertes of folke shalbe the by∣tynge conscience, and wythout forth shall be the worlde al brennynge: whyther shal then the wretched synfull man flye to hyde hym? Certes he maye not hyde hym, he must come forth and shewe hym. For certes as sayeth saynt Ierome, the earth shall cast hym out of it and the see also, and the ayre that shalbe ful of thonder clappes and lyghtenynges. Now sothly, who so woll remembreth him of these thynges: I gesse, that thys synne shall not turne hym in delyte, but to greate sorowe, for dredde of the payne of hell. And therfore sayeth Iob to God: suffre lorde, that I may a whyle bewaile and wepe, er I go without returnynge to the derke londe, couered wyth the darkenesse of death, to the lāde of mysese and of derknesse, where as is the shadowe of death, where as there is none ordre, or ordy∣naunce, but ferefull drede that euer shall last. Lo, here maye ye se, that Iob prayed respyte a whyle, to bewepe and wayle hys trespace: for sothly one day of respyte is better then al the treasoure of thys worlde. And for as moche as a man maye acquyte hym selfe be∣fore God by penitence in thys worlde, and not by treasoure, therfore shulde he praye to God to yeue hym respyte a whyle, to bewepe and wayle hys trespace: For certes al the so∣rowe that a man myght make fro the begyn∣nynge of the worlde, nys but a lytell thynge, at regarde of the sorowe of hell. The cause why that Iob calleth hell the lande of dark∣nesse, vnderstandeth that he calleth it lande or earth, for it is stable and neuer shal fayle, and derke: for he that is in hell hath defaute of lyght material, for certes the darke lyght that shall come out of the fyre that euer shall brenne, shall turne hym all to payne that is in hell, for it sheweth hym to the horrible de¦uels that hym turmenteth, couered wyth the darkenesse of death, that is to saye, that he that is in hel, shal haue defaute of the syght of God: for certes the syght of God is y^e lyfe perdurable. The derkenesse of death, bene the synnes that the wretched man hath done whyche that dystourbe hym to se the face of God, ryght as the derke cloude betwyxt vs and the sunne. Londe of mysese, bycause that there ben thre maner of defautes, ayenst thre thynges that folke of thys worlde haue in thys present lyfe, that is to saye: honours, de∣lyces, and richesse. Ayenst honoure haue they in hell, shame and confusyon: For well ye wote, that men call honoure the reuerence that man doth to man, but in hell is none ho¦noure ne reuerence. For certes, no more re∣uerence shalbe do there to a kynge, then to a knaue. For whyche God sayeth by the pro∣phete Ieremye: Those folke that me dyspise shalbe in dyspyte. Honour is also called great lordshyp: there shall no wyght serue other, but of harme & turment. Honoure is also cal∣led great dygnite & hyghnesse, but in hel shal they be al fortroden of dyuels. As god sayeth

the horrible deuels shall go and come vpon the heedes of dampned folke: and thys is for as moche as y^e hygher that they were in this present lyfe, the more shal they be abated and defoyled in hell. Ayenst the rychesse of thys worlde shal they haue mysese of pouerte, that shal be in foure thynges: In defaute of trea∣soure. Of whyche Dauid sayeth: The ryche folke that enbrase and knytte all her herte to treasoure of thys worlde, shall slepe in the slepynge of death, and nothynge ne shul they fynde in her hondes of all her treasoure. And more ouer the mysese of hel shalbe in defaute of meate and drynke. For God sayeth thus by Moses: They shalbe wasted wyth hon∣ger, and the byrdes of hell shal deuoure hem, wyth bytter death, and the gall of the dragon shall be her drynke, and the venym of the dra¦gon her morsels. Also her mysease shalbe in defaute of clothynge, for they shalbe naked in bodye, as of clothynge, saue the fyre in whych they brenne, and other fylthes: & naked shall they be of soule, of all maner of vertues, whyche that is the clothynge of the soule. Where bene then the gaye robes, the softe shetes, and the smale shertes? Lo, what say∣eth God of hem by the prophete Isaye, that vnder hem shall be strewed moughtes, and her couertures shall be of wormes of hell? Also her mysease shalbe in defaut of frendes for he is not poore that hath good frendes, but there is no frende, for neyther God ne no creature shalbe frende to them, & eche of hem shall hate other wyth deedly hate: The son∣nes and the doughters shall rebell ayenst fa∣ther and mother, and kynrede ayenst kynred, chyde & dispyse eche other, both daye & nyght as god sayeth by the prophete Micheas: And the louynge chyldrē y^t whylom loued so flesh∣lye eche other, wolde eche of hem eate other yf they myght. For howe shulde they loue to¦gyther in the paynes of hell, whē they hated eche other ī y^e prosperite of this life: for trust wel, her fleshly loue was deadly hate. As say¦eth the prophet Dauid: who so y^u loueth wyc¦kednesse, he hateth his soule, & who so hateth hys owne soule, certes he may loue none o∣ther wyght in no maner: And therfore in hel is no solace ne no frendshyp, but euer y^t more kynredes that ben in hel, the more cursynges the more chydynges, and y^e more deedly hate there is amonge them. Also they shal haue de¦faute of all maner delyces, for certes helyces ben after the appetites of the fyue wittes: as syght, hearynge, smellynge, sauourynge, and touchynge. But in hell her syght shalbe ful of derknesse and of smoke, & therfore full of tea∣res, and her hearynge full of waylynge and gryntynge of tethe: As sayeth Iesu Christe. Her nostrylles shalbe ful of stynkynge. And as sayeth Isaye the prophete: Her sauou∣rynge shalbe full of bytter gall, and as tou∣chynge of al her bodyes, ycouered wyth fyre that neuer shall quenche, and wyth wormes that neuer shall dye. As God sayeth by the mouthe of Isaye: and for as moche as they shall not wene that they maye dye for payne, and by death flye fro payne, that maye they vnderstande in the wordes of Iob, that say∣eth: There is the shadowe of deathe. Certes a shadowe hath the lykenes of the thynge of whych it is shadowed, but shadowe is not y^e same thynge of whych it is shadowed: ryght so fareth the payne of hel, it is lyke death, for the horrible anguyshe. And why? For it pay∣neth hem euer as though they shulde dye a∣none, but certes they shal not dye. For as say∣eth saynt Gregory to wretched caytyses shall be death wythout death, & ende wythout end & defaute wythout fayling, for her death shal alway lyue, & her ende shall euer more begyn and her defaute shal not fayle.

And therfore sayeth saynt Iohn the Euan¦gelyst, they shal folowe death and they shall not fynde hym, and they shall desyre to dye, & death shall slye fro hem. And also Iob say∣eth, that in hel is no ordre of rule. And al be it so, that God hath create al thynge in ryghte order, and nothynge wythout order, but all thynges ben ordred and nombred, yet nathe∣lesse they that ben dampned ben nothynge in order, ne hold none order, for the erth ne shal beare hem no frute. For as the prophete Da∣uid sayeth: God shall destroye the frute of the earth, as for hem, ne water, ne shal yeue hem no moysture, ne the eyre no refreshynge, ne fyre no lyght. For as sayeth saynt Basil••e: The brennynge of the fyre of thys worlde shal God yeue in hell to hem that bene damp¦ned, but the lyght and the clerenesse shall he yeue in heauen to hys chyldren: ryghte as good men yeue fleshe to her chyldren, and bo¦nes to her houndes. And for they shal haue none hope to escape, sayeth saynt Iob at

last, that there shal errour and grisly dreade dwell without ende. Horrour is alway dred that is to come, and this drede shal alwaye dwell in the hertes of hem that be damned. And therfore haue they lost all her hope, for vii. causes. Fyrst for god y^t is her iuge shalbe without mercye to hem, and they maye not please hym ne none of his saynctes, ne they maye not gyue nothyng for her raunsom, ne they shall haue no voyce to speke to hym, ne they may not stye fro payne, ne they haue no goodnesse in hem, that they maye shewe to delyuer hem fro payne. And therfore sayeth Salomon: The wycked man dyeth, & whā he is deed, he shal haue no hope to escape fro payne▪ who so than wolde wel vnderstonde the paynes, and bethynke hym well that he hath deserued those paynes for his synnes, ••••••es he shuld haue more talēt to sygh and w••ye, than for to synge and playe. For as sayth Salomon: whoso that had the sciēce to knowe the paynes that ben ordeyned for synne, he wolde make sorowe. That science, as sayeth sayncte Austyn, maketh a man to weyment in his herte.

THe fourth poynt that ought to make a man haue contrition, is the sorow¦full remembraunce of the good that he hath lefte to do here in erthe, and also the good that he hath loste. Sothlye the good werkes that he hath left, eyther they be the good werkes that he wroughte er he fyll in deedly sinne, or els the good werkes that he wrought whyle he laye in synne. Sothlye the good werkes that he dyd before that he fell in synne ben all mortifyed astonyed and dull by oft synnynge. The werkes that he dyd whyle he laye in syne he deed, as to the lyfe perdurable in heuen: than the good wer¦kes that ben mortifyed by oft synning, whi∣che he dyd beinge in charitie, may not quyck ayen without very penitēce. And of it sayth God by the mouth of Ezechiel: Yf the ryght full man returne ayen fro his ryghtousnesse and do wyckednesse, shall he lyue? nay, for al the good werkes that he hath done shal ne∣uer be in remembraunce, for he shall dye in his synne. And vpon that chapter sayth S. Gregorye thus, that we shall vnderstonde this principally: Yf that we don deedly syn, it is for nought than, to reherse or drawe in to memory the good werkes that we haue wrought before: for certes in the werkynge of deedlye syn, there is no truste in no good werke that we haue done before: that is to saye, as for to haue therby the lyfe perdura∣ble in heuē. But nathelesse the good werkes quycken and come agayne, and helpe and a∣uayle to haue the lyfe perdurable in heuen, whan we haue contrition: But sothlye the good werkes that men do whyle they be in deedly synne, for as moch as they wer don in deedly syn, they may neuer quycke: for ce••¦tes, thynge that neuer had lyfe, maye neuer quycke: And nathelesse, al be it that they a∣uayle not to haue the lyfe perdurable, yet a∣uayle they to abredge of the payne of hel, or els to get tēporall rychesses, or els that god wol the rather enlumyn or lyght the hert of the synful man to haue repentaūce, and eke they auayl for to vse a man to do good wer¦kes, that the fende haue the lesse power of his soule. And thus the carteys Lorde Iesu Christ ne wol that no good werke be lost for in somwhat it shal auayle. But for as moch as the good werkes that men done whyle they ben in good lyfe, ben all amortified by syn folowyng: & also syth that all the good werkes that men don whyle they ben in ded¦ly syn ben vtterly deed, as for to haue y^e lyse perdurable: wel may that man that no good werke ne doeth, synge that fresshe newe songe (Iay tout perdu mon temps, et mon labure). For certes synne byreueth a man bothe the goodnesse of nature, and also the goodnesse of grace. For sothlye the grace of the holye ghooste fareth lyke fyre that maye not be ydle, for fyre fayleth anon as it forletteth his werkyng: and ryght so grace fayleth anon as it forletteth his werkynge. Than leseth the synfull man the goodnesse of glory, that onely is behyght to good men that labour and werke. wel maye he be sory than that oweth all hys lyfe to God as lōge as he hath lyued, & also as longe as he shall lyue, that no goodnesse ne hath to pay with his det to God, to whome he oweth all hys lyfe: for trust well he shall yeue accōptes, as sayth saynct Bernarde, of the goodes that haue ben yeue hym in this present lyfe, and how he hath hem dispēded, insomoch y^t ther shall not perysh an heer of his heed, ne a mo¦ment of an houre, ne shal not perisshe of hys tyme, that he ne shall yeue of it a rekenynge.

THe fyfth thynge that ought to moue a man to contrition, is re¦membraunce of the passion that our Lorde Iesu Chryst suffred for our synnes. For as sayth saynt Bernard whyle that I lyue I shall haue remēbraūce of the trauayles that our Lord Iesu christ suffred in preachynge, his werynesse in tra∣uaylynge: his temptations whan he fasted his longe wakynges whan he prayed, hys teares whan that he wept for pytie of good people, the wo, the shame, and the fylth that men sayde to hym: of the foule spyttynge that men spyt in his face, of the buffettes y^t men yaue hym: of the foule mowes, and of the reproues that men sayde to hym, of the nayles wyth whiche he was nayled to the crosse, and of all the remnaunt of his passion that he suffred for my synnes, and nothyng for his gylt. And ye shal vnderstond, that in mans synne is euerye maner ordre or ordy∣naunce turned vp so downe. For it is soth, that god, reason, sensualitie, and the body of man, bene ordayned that eche of these foure thynges shoulde haue lordshyppe ouer that other: as thus, God should haue lordshyppe ouer reason, and reason ouer sensualytye, and sensualitie ouer the body of man. But sothly whan man synneth, all this ordre or ordinaunce is turned vp so downe. And ther¦fore than, for as moche as reason of man ne woll not be subiect ne obeysaūt to god, that is his Lorde by ryght, therfore leseth it the lordshyppe that it shulde haue ouer sensua∣lytie, and also ouer the bodye of man. And why? for sensualitie rebelleth then ayenst re¦son: and by that way ledeth reson the lord∣shyp ouer sensualitie and ouer the body: For ryght as reason is rebell to god, ryght so is both sensualitie rebell to reason, & to the bo∣dy also? And certes this disordinaunce and this rebellion our Lord Iesu Christ bought vpon his precious body full dere: & hearken in what wyse. For as moche than as reason is rebel to god, therfore is man worthye to haue sorowe & to be deed. This suffred oure Lord Iesu Christ for man, after that he had be betrayed of his disciple, & distrayned and bound, so that his bloude brast out at euery nayle of his hondes, as sayth s. Austin. And ferthermore, for as moche as reason of man wol not daunt sensualite, when it may, ther¦fore is man worthye to haue shame: & thys suffred our Lord Iesu christ for man, whan they spyt in his visage. And ferthermore for as moch thā as the caytif body of man is re¦bel both to resō & to sensualitie, therfore it is worthy death: & this suffred our Lord Iesu Chryst vpon the crosse, where as there was no parte of his bodye free withoute greate payne & bytter passyon: and all this suffred our Lord Iesu Chryst that neuer forfayted And therfore resonably maye be sayd of Ie∣su in this maner: To moch am I pained for thinges that I neuer deserued, and to moch defouled for shame that man is worthye to haue: And therfore may the synful man wel say, as saynt Bernarde. Accursed be the byt∣ternesse of my synne, for which ther must be suffred so moche bitternesse. For certes after the dyuers discordaunce of our wickednesse was the passyon of Iesu Chryste ordayned in dyuers thynges: as thus. Certes synfull mans soule is betrayed of the deuyll by coue¦tyse of temporal prosperitie, & scorned by dis¦ceyte when that he cheseth fleshly desyres, & yet it is turmented by impatience of aduer∣sitie, & bespet by seruage & subiection of syn, and at the last it is slayne fynallye. For this disordinaūce of synful man was Iesu christ betrayed, & after y^t was he boūde, that came for to vnbynde vs of synne & of payne. Than was he bescorned, y^t only shuld haue be ho∣noured in al thinges. Thā was his vysage that ought to be desyred to be sene of al mā∣kynde, in which visage angels desire to loke vylaynsly bespet. Than was be scourged y^t nothing had trespassed, and finally thā was he crucifyed and slayne. Than was accōplis¦shed the wordes of Esay: He was woūded for our mysdedes, and defoyled for our felo¦nies. Now sith that Iesu christ toke on him the paines of our wickednesses, moch ought synful man wepe and bewayle, that for hys synnes Gods sonne of heuen, should al this payne endure.

THe sixt thing that shuld meue a man to cōtrition, is y^e hope of thre thinges, that is to say foryeuenesse of syn, and y^e yeft of grace for to do well, and y^e glory of heuen w^t which God shall rewarde man for his good dedes: and for as moche as Iesu christ yeueth vs these yeftes of his

largenesse & of his souerayn boūty, therfore is he called (Iesus Nazarenus rex Indeo∣rū) Iesus is to saye, sauyour or saluaciō, on whom men shall hope to haue foryeuenesse of synnes, which that is proprely saluacion of synnes. And therfore said the angel to Io¦seph: thou shalte call his name Iesus, that shall saue his people of her synnes. And her of sayth s. Peter: There is none other name vnder heuen y^t is yeue to any man, by which a man maye be saued, but only Iesus. Naza¦renus is as moche for to saye, as floryshing in which a mā shal hope, that he that yeueth hym remyssyon of synnes, shall yeue hym al so grace well for to do. I was at the dore of thyne hert, sayth Iesus, & called for to enter he that openeth to me shal haue foryeuenes of synne. I wyl entre to hym by my grace, & suppe with hym by the good werkes, that he shall do, whiche werkes ben the foode of the soul, & he shal suppe with me by y^e great ioye that I shal yeue hym. Thus shall man hope for his werkes of penaunce, that God shall yeue hym hys reygne, as he behyghte hym in the gospell. Now shal a man vnder∣stonde in whiche maner shall be his contry¦tion: I saye that it shalbe vniuersall and to∣tall, this is to saye: a man shalbe very repen¦taunt for all his synnes that he hath done in delyte of his thought, for it is ryght peryl∣lous. For there ben two maner of consentin¦ges, that one of hem is called consentyng of affection, whan a man is moued to do syn, and than delyteth hym longe for to thynke on that synne, and his reason apperceyueth it well that it is synne ayenst the law of god and yet his reason refrayneth not his foule delyte or talent, though he se well apertlye, that it is ayenste the reuerence of God, al∣though his reason ne consent not to do that synne in dede, yet saye some doctoures that suche delyte that dwelleth longe is ful peril¦lous, albeit neuer so lytle. And also a man shoulde sorowe, namely for all that euer he hath desyred ayenst the lawe of God, wyth perfyt consentyng of his reason, for thereof is no doubt that it is deedly synne in consen¦tyng: for certes there is no deedly synne, but that it is fyrste in mans thought, and after that in his delyte, and so forth into consen∣tynge and into dede: wherfore I saye that many mē ne repēt hem neuer of such though¦tes and delytes, ne neuer shryue hym of it, but onelye of the dede of greate synnes out∣warde: wherfore I saye that suche wycked delytes bene subtyll begylers of them that shalbe dampned. Moreouer, man ought to sorowe for his wycked wordes as well as for hys wycked dedes: for certes the repen∣taūce of a synguler syn, and not repentaunt of all his other synnes, or els repent hym of all his other synnes, and not of a syngular syn, may not auayle: For certes god almigh¦tye is all good, and therfore eyther he forye∣ueth all, or els ryght nought. And therfore sayth saynct Austyn: I wot certaynly that god is enemye to euery synner: and how thā he that obserueth one synne, shal he haue for yeuenesse of those other synnes? Naye. And moreouer cōtrition shuld be wonder sorow∣full and anguishous, & therfore yeueth hym God playnly hys mercy: And therfore whā my soule was anguyshed and sorowfull w^t∣in me, than had I remembraunce of God, that my prayer myght come to hym. Fer∣thermore, contrition must be contynuall, & that man haue stedfaste purpose to shryue hym, and to amende hym of his lyfe. For sothly whyle contrition lasteth, man maye euer hope to haue foryeuenesse. And of thys cōmeth hate of synne, that destroyeth bothe synne in hym selfe, and also in other folke at hys power. For which sayeth Dauid: They that loue god hate wyckednesse: For to loue god is for to loue that he loueth, and hate y^t he hateth. The last thynge that men shal vn¦derstande is this. wherfore auayleth contri∣tion. I saye the contrition somtyme delyue∣reth man fro synne: Of which Dauid sayth I saye, sayd Dauid: I purposed fermely to shryue me, and thou Lorde releaseddest my synne. And ryght so as contrition auayleth not without sad purpose of shrift if mā haue oportunitye, ryght so lytle worth is shryfte or satisfaction withoute contrition. And moreouer contrition destroyeth the prisō of hell, & maketh weake and feble all the stren∣gthes of the deuylles, and restoreth the yef∣tes of the holy ghost and of al good vertues and it clenseth the soule of syn, & delyuereth it fro the payne of hell, & fro the company of the dyuel, and fro the seruage of synne, and restoreth it to all goodes spirituels, to the companye and communion of holy churche.

Ferthermore it maketh hym that whylom was sonne of yre, to be the sonne of grace. And all these thynges ben proued by holye wrytte. And therfore he that wolde set hys entent to these thynges he were full wyse, for truly he ne shulde haue than in al his life corage to synne, but yeue his hert and body to serue Chryst, and therof do hym homage For truly our Lord hath spared vs so meke lye in our follyes, that yf he ne had pytye of mannes soule, a sorye songe myghte we all synge.

¶Explicit prima pars penitentie et incipit pars secunda.

THe seconde parte of penitence is confessyon, that is signe of con∣trition. Now shul ye vnderstōd what is confessyon, and yf it ought to be done or no, & which thynges be couenable to very confessyon. Fyrst shalt thou vnderstond y^e confessyon is very shewyng of synnes to the prest: this is to saye very, for he must confesse hym of all the condicions that belonge to his synne, as ferforth as he can: al must be said, & nothing excused ne hydde, and not auaunt the of thy good werkes. Also it is necessary to vnder∣stonde whence that synnes spring, & howe they entre, and which they ben. Of the sprin¦gyng of synnes sayeth saynt Poule in thys wyse: that ryght as by one man, syn entred fyrst into this worlde, and through syn deth ryght so the deth entreth into all men that synne, and this man was Adam, by whom synne entred into this world, whē he brake the commaundement of God. And therfore he that fyrst was so mighty that he ne shuld haue dyed, becam so that he must nedes dye whether he wolde or no, and all his proge∣ny in this worlde that in the sayd man syn∣ned. Loke that in the state of innocency whē Adam and Eue were naked in paradyse, & shamed not therof, how the serpent wylyest of all other beastes that god made, sayde to the woman: why commaunded god you y^t ye shulde not eate of euery tree in paradyse? The woman answered: Of the frute sayde she of the trees of paradyse we fede vs, but of the frute of the mydle tre of paradyse god forbod vs to eat & touche, lest we shuld dye. The serpent sayd to the woman. Nay nay, ye shall not dye of death, forsoth god wotte that what daye that ye eat therof, your eyē shall open, and ye shalbe as goddes, know∣ing good and harme. The woman thā saw that the tree was good to fedyng, and fayr to the eyen, and delectable to syght, she toke of the frute of the tree and ate, & yaue to her husbonde, and he ate, and anon the eyen of hem both opened: And whā that they knew that they wer naked, they sowed of fyggele∣ues in maner of breches to hyde her mēbres There maye ye se that deedly syn hath fyrst suggestion of the fende as sheweth here by the adder, and afterwarde the delyte of the flesh, as sheweth by Eue, and after that con¦sentyng of reason, as sheweth here by Adā. For trust wel though so it were that y^e fend tempted Eue, that is to say the flesh, and the fleshe had delyte in the beautye of the frute defended, yet certes tyll that reason, that is to say Adam, consented to the eatyng of the frute, yet stode he in the state of innocencie. Of the sayd Adam toke we the sayde origi∣nal syn of hym fleshly discended be we all, & engendred of vyle and corrupte mater: And whan the soule is put in oure bodyes, right anon is contract original syn, and that that was erst but onely payne of concupiscencie is afterward both payne and syn, and ther∣fore we bene all borne sonnes of wrath, and of dampnatiō perdurable, if it nere baptym that we receyue, whiche benymmeth vs the coulpe but forsoth the pyne dwelleth wyth vs as to temptation, which pyne hyght con¦cupyscence. This concupiscence whan it is wrongfully disposed or ordayned in man, it maketh hym coueyte by couetysye of flesshe fleshly synne by syght of his eyen, as to erth¦lye thynges, and also couetyse of hyghnesse by pryde of herte.

Now as to speake of the first couetise that is concupiscence, after the lawe of our mem¦bres that were lawfully made, and by right¦ful iudgement of God: I saye for as moche as man is not obeysaunte to God, that is his Lorde, therfore is the flesh to hym diso∣beysaunt through concupiscence, whiche is called noryshing of synne, and occasyon of synne. Therfore all the whyle that a man hath within him the pyne of concupyscence it is impossyble but he be tēpted somtyme & moued in his fleshe to syn. And this thynge

may not fayle as long as he lyueth. It may wel waxe feble by vertue of baptim, and by the grace of god through penitence, but ful∣ly ne shall it neuer quenche that he ne shall somtyme be moued in him self, but if he wer al refrayned by sycknesse or by malyce of sor¦cery or colde drynkes. For lo, what sayth s. Poule: the flesh coueteth ayenst the spyryte and the spyrite ayenst the flesh: they bene so contrary & so stryuen, that a man maye not alway do as he wold. The same saynt poul after his greate penaunce, in water, and in londe: in water by night & by day, in greate peryl and in great pyne. In londe, famyne & thurst, colde, and clothlesse, & ones sloned al¦most to deth. Yet (sayde he) alas, I caytyfe man, who shall delyuer me fro the prison of my caytyfe body? And saynt Ierom whē he longe ••yme had dwelled in desert, where as he had no companye but of wylde beastes, where as he had no meate but herbes & wa¦ter to drink, ne bed but the naked erth, wher¦fore his flesshe was blacke as an Ethiopien for hete and nye distroyed for colde. Yet sayd ••e that the brennyng of lechery boyled in al his body: wherfore I wot well that they be disceyued that saye, they be not tempted in •••• bodyes. wytnesse saynt Iames y^t sayeth that euerye wyght is tempted in hys owne consciēce, that is to say: that eche of vs hath mater and occasion to be tempted of the no¦rishing of syn that is in his body. And ther¦fore sayth saynt Iohn the euangelist: yf we say that we ben without synne, we disceyue our self, and truthe is not in vs. Now shall ye vnderstonde how syn wexeth and encrea∣eth in man. The first thing is the same no∣ryshing of syn of which I spoke before, the fleshlye cōcupiscence, and after that cōmeth suggestyon of the deuil, this is to say the de¦uyls belous, with which he bloweth in mā the fire of cōcupiscence, and after that a mā bethinketh him wheder he wyll do or no, y^e thing to which he is tēpted. And then yf a man withstōd & weyue the first entisyng of his fleshe, & of the fende, thā it is no syn, & yf so be he do not thā feleth he anon a flame of de••••te, & thā it is good to beware & kepe him well, or els he wyll fall anon, to cōsentynge of syn, & than wyll he do it yf he maye haue tyme & place. And of this mater sayth Mo∣ses by the deuyll, in this maner: y^e fēd sayth, I wyll chace & pursue man by wycked sug∣gestyon, & I wyll take hym by mouyng and steryng of syn, & I woll depart my pryse of my praye by delyberation, and my lust shal be accōplyshed in delyte: I wyll drawe my sworde in consentynge. For certes, ryght as a swerde departeth a thynge in two peces, ryght so cōsentyng departeth god fro man, & than wyl I sle hym with my hond in dede of syn: thus sayth the fende. For certes than is a man all deed in soule, & thus is syn accō¦plyshed with temptation by delyte & consen¦tyng: & than is the syn actual. Forsoth syn is in two maners, eyther it is venyall or deed∣ly syn. Sothlye whan man loueth any crea∣ture more then Iesu Chryste our creatour, than it is deedly synne, & venyall synn it is, yf man loue Iesu chryst lesse thā him ought. Forsoth the dede of this venyal syn is ful pe¦rylous, for it mynissheth the loue that man shuld haue to god more and more. And ther¦fore yf a man charge hym selfe with manye suche venyall synnes: certes but if so be that he somtyme discharge hym of hem by shryft They may ful lyghtly mynysh in hym al the loue that he hath to Iesu Christ, and in this wyse skyppeth venyall synne into deedly sin For certes, the more that a man chargeth his soule with venyall synnes, the more he is enclyned to fall into deedlye synne. And therfore lette vs not be neglygent to charge vs of venyal synnes. For the prouerbe sayth that many small make a great. Herken this ensample. A greate vawe of the see com∣meth sometyme with so greate a vyolence, that it drowneth the shyppe. And the same harme do somtyme the smal droppes of wa¦ter that entreth through a lytle creueys, in∣to the tymbre and to the botume of the shyp, yf men be so geglygent, that they dyscharge hem not bytymes. And therfore althoughe there be a dyfference betwyxt these two cau¦ses of drownynge, allgates the shyppe is drowned. Ryghte so fareth it sometyme of deedlye synne, and of anoyous venyall syn∣nes, whan they multyplye in man so great∣lye, that those worldlye thynges that he lo∣ueth, through whyche he synneth venyally, is as great in his herte as the loue of God, or more: and therfore the loue of euery thing that is not beset in God, ne done pryncipal∣lye for Goddes sake, althoughe that a man

loue it selfe then God: yet is it venyal synne and deedly synne whē the loue of any thing weyeth in the hert of man as moche as the loue of God or more. Deedly synne as sayth saynct Austyn is when a man turneth hys hert fro God: which that is very souerayne bounty that maye not chaunge: and gyueth his hert to a thyng that may chaunge & flit and certes that is euery thyng saue God of heauen. For sothe is that if a manne gyue hys loue whyche that he oweth to God, with all his hert vnto a creature: certes as moche of loue as he yeueth to that same cre¦ature so moche he bereueth fro God: & ther∣fore doth he synne. For he that is dettour to God ne yeldeth not to god al his det that is to saye: al the loue of his hert. Now sith mā vnderstandeth generally whiche is venyall syn, then it is couenable to tell specyallye of synne which that many a mā peraduenture demeth hem no synnes: & shryueth hym not of the same thinges: & yet neuerthelesse they be synnes sothly as these clerkes write that is to saye. At euery tyme that man eateth or drinketh more then suffiseth to y^e sustenaūce of his body in certayne he doth synne: & also when he speaketh more then it nedeth it is sinne. Also when he herkeneth not benignly the cōplaynt of the pore. Also when he is in heale of body: and wol not fast when other folkes faste withoute cause resonable: also when he slepeth more then nedeth: or when he cometh perchaūce to late to church: or o∣ther werkes of charitie. Also when he vseth his wyfe without souerayne desyre of engē¦drure to the honour of god: or for the entent to yelde to his wyfe dette of his body. Also when he wol not vysit the sycke or the priso¦ner: yf he maye. Also yf he loue wyfe or child or other wordly thyng more then reason re∣quyreth. Also yf he flatter or blandyse more then him ought for any necessitye. Also yf he minish or withdrawe y^e almesse of the pore. Also if he apparel his meat more deliciously then nede is or eate to hastelye by lycorous∣nes. Also yf he talke vanityes at churche or at gods seruise, or that he be a talker of ydle wordes, of foly or vylanye, for he shal yelde accomptes of it at the daye of dome. Also when he behyghteth or assureth to do thyn∣ges that he may not performe. Also when y^t he by lyghtnesse or folye myssayeth or scor∣neth his neighbour. Also when he hath any wicked susspection of any thynge that he ne wot of sothfastnesse. These thinges and mo without nōbre be synnes as sayth s. Austyn Now shal men vnderstande that albeit so y^t none erthly man maye eschue al venyal syn∣nes, yet maye he refrayne hym by the bren∣nyng loue y^t he hath to our lord Iesu chryst and by prayers and confession & other good werkes, so that it shalbe but lytle grefe. For as saeth s. Austin: Yf a man loue god insuch maner, that al that euer he doth is the loue of god, or for y^e loue of god verely, for he brē¦neth in the loue of god: loke how moch that one droppe of water whiche doth fal into a great furneys ful of fyre anoyeth or greueth the brennyng of the fyre: in lyke maner ano∣yeth or greueth a venyall syn vnto that mā which is stedfast and perfyte in the loue of our sauyour Iesu Chryst. Ferthermore mē maye also refrayne and put awaye venyall syn, by commenyng and receyuing worthe∣ly the body of our sauyour Iesu Chryst. Al∣so by takynge of holy water, by almesdede, by general confessyon of Confi••••or at masse and at complyn, & by blessynges of byshops and prestes, and other good werkes.* 1.2

¶De septem peccatis mortalibus, et de eorum dependentus circum∣stantis et speciebus.

HOw is it expediēt to tel which bene the seuen deedly synnes, that is to saye, the chefetayns of synnes. All they renne in o lees, but in dyuers maners.

Now bene they called seuen Cenes, for as moch as they be chefe, & sprynge of al other synnes. Of the roote of these seuen synnes, then is pryde the general rote of al harmes For of this rote spryngeth certen braūches: as yre, enuy, accidie or slouth, auarice, or co∣uetyse, to cōmē vnderstanding glotony and lechery: And eche of these chefe synnes haue her braunches and twigges, as it shalbe de¦clared in her chapiters folowynge. And though so be y^t noman can vtterly tel the nō¦bre of twigges, and of the harmes that com of pryde: Yet wol I shew a parte of hem, as ye shall vnderstonde. There is Inobedience

auauntyng, ypocrisy, dispite, errogance, im∣pedence, swellyng of hert, insolence, elation, impacience, strife, contumacy, presumption irreuerence, pertinacy, veyne glory, and ma∣ny other twygges that I can not declare. Inobedience is he that disobeyeth for dis∣pyte the commaundementes of God, to his souerains, and to his gostly father. Auaun∣ter is he that bosteth of the harme or of the boūte that he hath done. Ipocrite is he that bedeth to shewe hym such as he is, and she∣weth hym to seme such as he is not. Dispi∣tous is he that hath disdayne of hys neigh∣bour, that is to saye, of hys euyn christen, or hath dispite to do that hym ought to do. Er∣rogance is he that thynketh y^t he hath those bou••••es in hym that he hath not, or weneth that he shulde haue hem by hys desertes, or els that he demeth he is that he is not. Im∣pedent is he, y^t for hys pride hath no shame of hys pride ne synne. Swellyng of hert is whan man reioyseth hym of harme that he hath done. Insolence is he that dispiceth in his iudgement all other folke, as in regard of his value, of hys conyng, of hys spekyng and of hys berynge. Elation is whan he ne may neither suffre to haue maister ne felow Impacient is he that wyl not be taught ne rebuked of hys vyce, and by stryfe denyeth trouth wyttyngly, and defendeth hys foly. C••••••umaxe is he that throughe hys indig∣nation i•• ayenst euerye auctorite or power of hem that ben hys souerayns. Presump∣tion is whā a man vndertaketh an emprise that him ought not to do or els that he may nat do, and this is called surquidie. Irreue∣rence is, whan manne dothe not honoure there as hym ought to do, and loke to be re∣uerenced. Pertinacye is whan men defende her foly, & trust to much on her owne witte. Vaynglory is for to haue pompe and delite in hys temporel hynesse, and glorye hym in worldlye estates. Ianglynge is whan men speke to much before folke and clappeth as a myl, and take no kepe what they say. And yet is there a priuy spice of pride, that way∣teth fyrst to be salewed or he woll salue, all be he lesse worthy thā that other is. And al∣so he wayteth or desyreth to sytte, or els to go aboue hym in the waye, or kysse paxe, to be encensed, or go to offrynge before hys neyghbour, and such semblable thynges a∣yenst his dutie parauēture, but that he hath hys hert and hys entente, in suche a proude desyre to be magnyfyed and honoured be∣fore the people. Nowe bene here two ma∣ners of prides. One of hem is wythin the hert of a man, and that other is wythout. Of whych forsayd thynges sothlye and mo than I haue sayd apertayn to pride, that is in the hert of man, and other spices of pride ben wythout, but nathles, that one of these spices of pride is signe of that other, ryghte as the gay leuesel at the tauerne, is signe of the wyne that is in the celer. And thys is in many thynges: as in speche & coūtenance & outragious aray of clothyng: For certes, yf ther had ben no syn in clothing, Christ wold not so sone haue noted and spoken of the clo¦thyng of the ryche men in the gospell. And as saint Greg. saith that precious clothing is culpable, for the derth of it & for his soft∣nesse, and for hys straungenesse and disgui∣syng: and for the superfluite, or for the inor∣dinate scantnesse of it. Alas? may nat a man se in our dayes the synfull costlye arraye of clothyng, and namely in to much superflui∣te, or elles in to disordinate scantnesse. As to the fyrst synne in superfluite of clothynge suche that maketh it so dere to the harme of the people, not only the cost of imbroydring the disguysed endendyng, or barringe, oun∣dyng, palyng, wyndynge, or bendynge, and semblable wast of cloth in vanite. But there is also the costlye furrynge in her gownes, so much pousyng of chesel to make hooles, so much daggyng of sheres forche, with the superfluite in lengthe of the foresayd gow∣nes, traylyng in the donge & in the myre, on horse and also on fote, as well of man as of woman. That all that traylynge is verilye as in effecte wasted, consumed thredebare & rotten wyth donge, rather than it is yeue to the poore, to greate damage of the forsayde pore folke, & y^t in sōdrie wise, thys is to saye that the more the cloth is wasted, the more muste it coste the poore people for the scars∣nesse. And moreouer, yf so be that they wold yeue such pounsed and dagged clothyng to the poore people, it is not cōuenient to were for her estate, ne sufficient to her necessite, to kepe hem fro the distemperaunce of the fir∣mament. Vpon that other syde, to speke of y^e horrible disordinate scātnesse, of clothinge

as ben these cutted sloppes or hanselines, y^t through her shortnes couer not the shamful mēbres of mā, to wicked intent. Alas, some of hem shew the bosse of her shap, & the hori∣ble swole membres that semeth like to ma∣lady of hernia, in the wrappyng of her hosē & also the buttockes of hem fare as it were the hynder parte of a sheape in the ful of the mone. And moreouer the wretched swollen mēbres that they shewe through disguising in departing of her hosen, in white and reed semeth that halfe her shameful preuy mem¦bres were flayne. And yf so be that they de∣part her hosen in other colours, as is white & blew, or whyte and blacke, or blacke & red and so forth: Thā semeth it as by variaūce of colour that y^u halfe part of her preuy mē∣bres, ben corrupt by the fyre of saynt Antho¦ny, or by canker, or other such mischaunce. Of the hinder part of her buttockes it is ful horrible for to se, for certes in that parte of her body there as they purge her stynkynge ordure, that foule partie shew they to y^e peo∣ple proudly in dispite of honestie, which ho∣nestie that Iesu Christ and hys frendes ob∣serued to shewe in her life. Now as the out∣ragious araye of women, God wotte that thoughe y^t visages of some of hem seme full chast, & debonayre, yet notify in her araye or afyre, licorousnes & pride: I say not that ho¦nestie in clothing of mā or woman is vnco∣uenable, but certes the superfluitie of disor∣dinate quantite of clothynge is reprouable. Also the syn of ornement or of apparayle is in thinges that apertayne to rydynge, as in companye, delicate horses that bene holden for delite, that ben so fayre, fatte, & costlye, & also in many a nyce knaue, that is susteined bicause of hem, in curious harneis, as in sa∣dels, cropers, peytrels, & bridels couered w^t precious clothing, & rich barres of plates of gold & of siluer. For which god sayth by za∣charye the prophete, I woll confounde the ryders of such horses. These folke take lytel regarde of the riding of goddes sonne of he∣uen, and of hys harneys whan he rode vpō the asse, and non other harneys but the pore clothes of his disciples, ne we rede not that euer he rode on other beest. I speke thys for the synne of superfluitie, and not for resona∣ble honestye, whan reason it requireth. And moreouer, certes pryde is greatly notyfyed in holdynge of great meyny, whan they be•• of lytle profyte, or of ryght no profyte, and namely whan that meyne is felonous and dammageous to the people by hardynes of hygh lordshyp, or by waye of offyces. For certes such lordes sell thā her lordshyppe to the dyuel of hell, whā they sustayne the wic¦kednesse of her meyne. Or els, whan these folke of lowe degree: as those that kepe ho∣stelries, sustayne these of the hostelers, and that is in manye maner of disceytes: those maner of folke ben the flyes that folow the hony, or els the houndes that folow the ••a∣rayn. Such forsaid folke strangel spirituel∣ly her lordshyps: For such, thus sayeth Da∣uid the prophete, wicked death might come on those lordships, and God gyue that they might discend in to b••l▪ all down: For in her houses bene iniquities and shreudnesse, and not god of heuen. And certes, tyll they done amendemēt▪ right as god yaue hys blessing to Pharao by the seruice of Iacob, & to La∣ban, by the seruice of Ioseph: Ryght so god wol yeue hys curse to such lordshyps, as su∣stayn the wyckednes of her seruauntes, but they come to amendement. Pride of the ta∣ble appeareth also full ofte: for certes, ryche men ben called to festes and pore folke ben•• put awaye & rebuked. And also in excesse of diuers meates and drynkes, & namely such maner bake meates & dishemetes brenning of wylde fyre: peynted and castelled w••th paper and semblable waste, so that it is ••••∣usyon to thynke. And also in to greate ••••∣cyousnesse of vessell and curiosytye of m••••stralcye, the whyche a man is sterred mo•• to delyces of lecherye, yf so be he sette hys herte the lesse vpon oure Lorde Iesu Chri••t certaynlye it is a synne. And certaynlye the delyces myght be so greate in thys case, that a man myghte lyghtlye fall by hem in¦to a deadly synne. The especes that sourde of pride, sothly whan they sourde of malyce ymagined, auysed, and forecaste, or els of v∣sage ven deedly syn, it is no dout. And whā they sourde by freelte vnauysed sodenlye, & sodenlye wythdrawe ayene, all be they gre∣uouse synnes, I gesse that they be nat deed∣ly. Now might mē aske, wherof that pride sourdeth and springeth. I saye that sōtyme it spryngeth of the goodes of nature, som∣tyme of the goodes of fortune, and sōtyme

of the goodes of grace. Certes the goodes of nature stondeth only in goodes of bodye, or goodes of y^e soule. Certes goodes of the body bene heel of body, strength, deliuernes beautie, gentry, frāchise. Goodes of nature of the soule, ben good with sharpe vnderstā¦dyng, subtel engin, vertue naturel, good me¦mory. Goodes of fortune, be ryches, hye de∣grees of lordships, praysyngs of the people Goodes of grace: bene science, power to suf∣fer spounell traueyle, benigne, vertuous cō∣templation, vnderstanding of temptation & semblable thynges: of whych forsayd goo∣des: certes it is a full greate folye, a man to haue pride in any of hem all. Nowe, as for to speke of goodes of nature, God wot, that somtyme we haue hem in nature, asmoche to our damage as to our profyt. As to speke of heel of body, truly it passeth ful lyghtly, & also it is full oft occasion of sickenesse of the soule: for God wot y^e fleshe is a great enemy to the shule: & therfore the more that the bo∣dyes hole, the more be we in peril to fal. Al∣so for to haue pride in hys strength of body, it is an hie foly: for certes the fleshe coueteth ayenst the spirite: & the more strōg the fleshe is the sorier maye the soule be. And ouer all this strength of body & worldly hardinesse, causeth ful oft many man to perell and mis∣chaunce, & also to haue pride of his gentry, is right great foly: for oftyme the gētry of y^e body taketh awey the gentry of the soule: & also we ben al of o father & mother: & all we ben of o nature rotten & corrupt, both rich & pore. Forsoth o maner gētry is for to praise that aparelleth mānes courage: wyt vertue & moralite, maketh him Christes chyld. For trust well, that ouer what mā that syn hath maystry, he is a very churle to synne. Nowe ben there general signes of gētlenes as esche wyng of vice & ribaudry, & seruage of sy••n worde, in werke, & countenaunce & vsyng of vertue, curtesy, & clennes, & to be li∣beral: that is to say, large by measure: for y^t y^t passeth measure, is foly & synne: Another is to remembre hym of boūtie, that he of o∣ther folke hath receiued: Another is to be be¦nigne to hys good subictes, wherfore sayth Senecke: there is nothyng more couenable to a mā of hygh estate, than debonairte and pite. And therfore these flyes that men call bees, whan they make her kynge, they chese one that hath no pricke, wherwyth he may stynge.

Another is, man to haue a noble hert & a diligent, to attayne to the hyghe vertuous thynges. Nowe certes, a man to haue pride in the goodes of grace, is also an outragi∣ous foly: for those gyftes of grace y^t shulde haue tourned hym to goodnesse, and to me∣dycen, tourneth hym to venym and confusi∣on, as fayth saynte Greg. Certes also, who so hath pride in the goodnesse of fortune, he is a ful greate fole: For somtyme is a mā a great lorde by the morne, that is a catyfe, and a wretche or it be nyght: and somtyme the ryches of a man is cause of his death. Somtyme the delyces of a man, is cause of a greuous melady throughe whyche he dy∣eth. Certes, the comendation of the people is somtyme full false and brotell for to trust Thys day they prayse, to morow they bla∣me. God wot, desyre to haue cōmendation of the people, hath caused death to manye a busye man. Nowe syth that so it is, that ye haue vnderstande what is pride, and which be the speces of it, and whence it sourdeth & spryngeth: nowe ye shall vnderstand which is the remedy ayenst it. Humilytie or meke∣nesse is the remedye ayenst pride, y^t is a ver∣tue, through whyche a mā hath very know∣ledge of hym selfe, and holdeth of hym selfe no price ne deyntie, as in regarde of hys de¦sertes, consyderynge euer hys freelte. Now bene there thre maner of humilytes: As hu∣mylyte in herte, another humylytye is in mouthe, and the thyrde is in workes. The humilytie in herte, is in four maners: That one is, whan a manne holdeth hym selfe as nought worth before God of heuen. The seconde is, whan he dispiceth none other man. The thyrde is, whan he ne recketh nat though men holde hym nought worth. And the fourth is, whā he is not sory of his hu∣miliation. Also the humilitie of mouth is in four thinges. In a temperate speche, in hu∣militie of spech, & whā he cōfesseth with his owne mouth, that he is suche as him thyn∣keth, that he is in his hert: Another is, whā he prayseth the bounte of another man & no¦thyng therof minyssheth. Humilitye also in werke, is in foure maners. The fyrste is, whan he putteth other men before him, y^e se¦cond is to chese the lowest place ouer al, the

thyrde is, gladly to assent to good coūsayle, the fourth in, to stand gladly to the awarde of his souerains, or of him that is in hier de¦gre. Certeyn this is gret werke of humilite.

¶De Inuidia.

AFter Pride woll I speke of the foule synne of Enuye, whyche that is after the worde of the philosofer, sorow of other men¦nes prosperitie. And after the worde of saynt Augustin: it is sorowe of o∣ther mennes wele, & the ioy of other mēnes harme. This foule synne is platly agaynste the holy ghost: al be it so, that euery synne is ayenst the holy gost: yet nathles, for asmoch as bounte apertayneth properly to the holy gost: & enuy cometh properly of malice, ther¦fore it is properlye ayenst the bountie of the holy gost. Nowe hath malice two speces, y^t is to say: hardines of herte in wickednes, or els the fleshe of a man is so blynde, that he cōsidreth nat that he is in syn, or recketh nat y^t he is in syn, which is the hardines of y^e de¦uyl. That other spece of enuy is, whan that a mā denyeth trouth, whā he knoweth that it is trouth, & also whā he repenteth y^e grace that God hath yeue to his neyghbour: & all this is by enuy. Certes, thā is enuy y^e worst sinne that is, for sothly al other sinnes be sō¦time onely ayenst o speciall vertue: but cer∣tes, enuy is against al vertues & al goodnes For it is sory ayenst al boūties of her neigh¦bour, & in this maner, it is diuers from al o∣ther synnes. Alas: for there ne is any synne that it ne hathe some delyte in it selefe, saue only enuy, that euer hath in it selfe anguishe & sorow. The speces of enuy ben these, there is fyrste sorowe of other mennes goodnesse and of her prosperitie, & prosperite is kynd∣lye mater of ioye: Than is enuye a synne a∣yenst kynde. The seconde spece of enuye, is ioy of other mennes harme, and that is pro¦perly lyke to the deuyll, that euer reioyseth hym of mannes harme. Of these two spe∣ces cometh bacbytynge, and thys synne of bacbytynge or detractynge hathe certayne speces, as thus: Some man prayseth hys neyghboure by a wycked entent, for he ma∣keth alwaye a wycked knot at the last ende: alway he maketh a but at the last ende that is digne of more blame, thā is worth al the praysyng. The seconde spece is, that if a mā be good, or doth or sayeth a thynge to good entente, the backbyter woll turne al y^t good∣nesse vp so downe, to hys shreude entente. The thyrde is to amynishe the bountye of hys neyghbour. The fourth spece of backby¦tyng is thys, that yf men speke goodnesse of a man, than woll the backbiter saye: Perfay such a man is yet better than he, in dispray∣synge of hym y^e men prayse. The fyfth spece is thys, for to cōsent gladly and herkē glad∣ly to y^e harme that men speke of other folke: Thys synne is ful great, and aye encreseth after the wycked entent of the backbiter. Af∣ter backbytynge cometh grutching or mur∣muration, and somtyme it spryngeth of un∣pacience ayenst God, and somtyme ayenst man. Ayenst God it is whan a man grut∣cheth ayenst payne of hel, or ayenst pouertie or losse of catel, or ayenst rayne or tempeste, or els grutcheth that shrewes haue prospe∣rite, or els for that good mē haue aduersite: and all these thynges shulde men suffre pa∣ciently, for they come by the ryghtfull iudge¦ment and ordinaunce of God. Somtime co¦meth grutching of auarice, as Iudas grut∣ched ayenst Maudelen, whan she anoynted the heed of our lorde Iesu Christe, with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 precious oyntment. Thys maner murmu••rynge is suche, as whan man grutcheth of goodnes that hym selfe doth, or that other folke done of her owne catel. Somtyme co∣meth murmure of pride, as whan Symon the pharisee grutched ayenst Maudeleyn, whan she aproched to Iesu Christ & wepte at hys fete for her synnes. And somtyme it sourdeth of enuy, whā mē discouer a mans harme y^t was priuy, or bereth him on hand a thing that is false. Murmure also is ofte among seruaūtes y^e grutche whā her soue∣raynes byd hem do lefull thynges, & for as much as they dare not opēly wythsay y^e cō∣maūdemēt of her soueraynes, yet woll they say harme & grutche & murmure priuely for very dispite: which wordes they cal the dy∣uels pater noster, though so be that the dy∣uel had neuer pater noster, but y^t lende folke yeueth it such a name. Somtyme it cometh of yre or pryuy hate, y^t nourysheth rancoure in the herte, as afterwarde I shall declare. Than cometh also bytternesse of herte, tho∣rowe

whych bytternesse euery good dede of hys neyghboure semeth to hym bitter & vn∣sauery. Than cometh discorde that vnbyn∣deth al maner of frendshyp. Than cometh scornyng of hys neyghbour, all do he neuer so well. Than cometh accusynge, as whan man seketh occasion to anoy his neighbour whych is lyke the craft of the dyuel, y^t way∣teth both daye and nyght to accuse vs all. Than cometh malignitie, through whyche a man anoyeth hys neyghbour priuely if he may: and yf he may not algate hys wycked wyll shall not let as for to brenne his house priuely, or enpoyson or sle hys beastes, and semblable thynges. Nowe woll I speke of the remedye ayenst thys foule synne of en∣uy. First is the loue of God principally, and louyng of hys neyghbour as hym selfe: for sothly that one ne may not be wythout that other. And truste well that in the name of thy neyghbour thou shalte vnderstande the name of thy brother, for certes all we haue one father fleshly & one mother, y^t is to saye, Adam & Eue, & also one father spirituell y^t is God of heuen. Thy neyghboure art thou bounde for to loue, & wyll him all goodnesse & therfore sayth god: loue thy neighbour as thy selfe, y^t is to saye, to saluatiō both of lyfe & soule. And moreouer thou shalte loue hym or worde & in benigne admonyshynge & cha¦stysyng, & comforte him in his noyaunces, & pray for him with al thy hert. And in dede thou shalte loue him in such wyse that thou shalt do to him in charitie, as thou woldest that it were done to thine owne person: and therfore thou ne shalt do hym no damage in wicked worde, ne harme in his bodye ne in his catel, ne in hys soule by entysyng of wic¦ked ensample. Thou shalte not desyre hys wyfe ne none of hys thynges. Vnderstande also that in the name of neyghbour is com∣prehēded hys enemy: Certes man shal loue hys enemy by the commaundement of God and sothly thy frende thou shalt loue in god. I saye thine enemy shalt thou loue for god∣des sake▪ by hys cōmaūdemēt, for if it were reason that man shulde hate his enemy, for∣soth god wolde not receyue vs to hys loue y^t ben hys enemies. Ayenst thre maner of wrō∣ges that his enemy doth to him, he shall do thre thynges, as thus: ayenst hate & rācour of hert, he shal loue hym in hys hert: Ayenst chiding & wicked wordes, he shall praye for his enemy: Ayenst wicked dedes, he shal do him bountie. For Christe sayeth: Loue your enemies, & pray for hem y^t speke you harme & for hem that chase and pursue you: and do bounte to hem y^t hate you. Lo, thus cōmaū∣deth vs our Lorde Iesu Christ to do to our enemies: For soth nature driueth vs to loue our frendes, and parfay our enemyes haue more nede of loue than our frendes, & they y^t more nede haue, certes to hem shall men do goodnesse. And certes in that dede haue we remembraunce of the loue of Iesu Christ y^t dyed for hys enemyes: And in asmuche as that loue is more greuous to perfourme, so much is the more gret the merite, & therfore the louyng of our enemye hath cōfounded y^e dyuels venym: For ryght as the dyuel is cō¦founded by humilitie, righte so is he woun∣ded to the deth by the loue of our enemy, cer¦tes thā is loue the medicyn that casteth out the venym of enuie fro mannes herte. The speces of this place shall be more largely de¦clared in her chapiters folowyng.

¶De Ira.

AFter enuye wol I discriue the synne of Ire, for sothly who so hath enuye vpon hys neyghbour, anone he woll comenlye fynde hym a mater of wrathe in word or in dede, ayenst hym to whō he hath enuye: And as wel cometh ire of pride as of enuy, for sothly he that is proud or enuyous is lyghtly wrothe. Thys synne of yre, after the discriuynge of saynte Austyn is wycked wyll to be auēged by worde or by dede. Ire after the phylosopher, is the feruent bloude of mā yquycked in hys hert, through which he wolde harme to hym that he hateth: for certes the herte of man by eschaufynge and mouyng of hys bloude, wexeth so troubled that it is out of al maner of iugement of rea¦son. But ye shal vnderstande y^e ire is in two maners, that one of hem is good, & that o∣ther is wicked. The good ire is by ielousye of goodnes, through which a mā is wrothe with wickednes, & ayenst wickednesse. And therfore saith a wise man, that ire is bet thā playe. This ire is with debonairte, and it is wroth without bitternes, not wroth ayenst the man, but wrath with the misdede of the

man: As saith the prophete Dauid: Irasci∣mini, et nolite peccare. Nowe vnderstande that wicked ire is in two maners, that is to saye, sodayn ire or hasty ire wythout auyse∣ment & consentyng of reason: The meaning and the sence of this is, that the reason of a mā ne cōsent not to that sodayne ire, & than it is venyal. Another ire is ful wycked, that cometh of felony of hert, auysed and cast be∣fore, wyth wicked wyl to do vengeaunce, & therto his reason cōsenteth: and sothly thys is deedly synne. Thys ire is so displeasaunt to God, that it troubleth hys house, & cha∣seth the holy goste out of mans soule, & wa∣steth & distroyeth that likenesse of God, that is to say the vertue of that is in mans soule and putteth in hym the lykenesse of the dy∣uel, and taketh the man fro God that is his rightful lord. This is a ful great pleasaūce to the dyuell, for it is the dyuels fournayes that is eschaufed with the fyre of hell: For certes ryght so as fyre is more myghtye to distroy erthly thinges thā any other elemēt ryght so ire is myghty to distroy al spiritu∣el thynges. Loke how that fyre of smale co∣les that ben almost deed vnder asshen, woll reuyue or quycke ayen whan they bene tou∣ched wyth brymstone, right so ire wol euer∣more quyck ayen whan it is touched by the pride that is couered in mans hert. For cer∣tes fyre ne maye not come out of nothynge, but yf it were first in the same thinge natu∣rally: as fyre is drawe out of flyntes wyth stele. And ryght so as pride is many tymes mater of ire, ryghte so is rancour nourice & keper of ire. There is a maner tree, as sayth saynt Isodore, y^t whan a man maketh fyre of the sayd tree, & couer the coles of it wyth asshen, sothly the fyre of it wol last a yere or more: And right so fareth it of rācoure whā it is ones conceyued in the hertes of some men, certes it wol last perauēture from one Ester day vntyl another Ester day or more But certes that same man is ful ferre from the mercy of god al that whyle. In this for∣sayde dyuels fourneis there forge thre shre∣wes: Pride that aye bloweth & encreaseth the fyre by chiding & wicked wordes: Than standeth enuy & holdeth hote yron in y^e fyre vpon the hert of man with a payre of longe tonges of long rācour. And thā stādeth the syn of cōtumely or strife & chest, & battereth and forgeth by vilaynous repreuinges. Cer¦tes this cursed syn anoyeth both to the man hym selfe & also hys neyghbour. For sothly almoost al the harme or damage that anye mā doth to his neighbour cōmeth of wrath for certes outragious wrath dothe all that euer the foule fende willeth or cōmaundeth hym, for he ne spareth neither our lorde Ie∣su Christe, neyther his swete mother. And in hys outragiouse angre & yre, alas alas, ful many & diuers at that time, feleth in his hert ful wickedly both of Christ and also of al his halowes: Is not this a cursed vice? yes certes. Alas it taketh fro mā his witte & hys reason, and all his debonayre lyfe spi∣rituell that shulde kepe his soule. Certes it wythdraweth also goddes dewe lordshyp, and that is mans soule, and the loue of hys neighbours. It stryueth also all day ayenst trouth, it reueth him the quyete of his hert, & subuerteth hys soule. Of tre cōmeth these stinkinge engendrures. First hate, y^t is olde wrath discord, through which a man forsa∣keth his olde frend y^t he hath loued ful long And than cometh warre and euerye maner of wrong that a mā doth to his neyghbour in body or in catell. Of this cursed syn of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 cometh also māslaughter. And vnderstand wel that homicide, that is manslaughter is in diuers wyse.

Some maner of homicide is spirituell and some is bodily. Spirituell manslaugh∣ter is in .vi. thynges. Fyrst by hate as sayth Saynte Iohan: He that hateth hys bro∣ther, is an homicide. Homicede is also by backebytynge, of whyche backebytinge say∣eth Salomon, that they haue two sweat∣des, wyth whych they slee her neyghbours For sothlye as wycked is to take from hym hys good name as hys lyfe. Homicide is also in geuing of wycked counsel by fraude as for to geue counsayle to areyse wrong∣full customes, and talages. Of whyche say∣eth Salomon: A Lyon roringe and a be••••e hongry, be lyke to the cruel lordes in wyth∣holdyng or abredging of the shepe or y^e hyre of the wages of seruauntes, or els in vsury, or in wythdrawyng of the almesse of poore folke. For whyche the wyse man sayeth. Fe∣dethe hym that almooste dyeth for honger, for sothly but if ye fede him ye slee him. And al these bene deedlye synnes. Bodylye man∣slaughter

is when thou sleest hym wyth thy tonge: An other maner is, when thou com∣maundest to slee a mā, or els yeuest coūsayle to slee a man. Manslaughter in dede is in foure maners. That one is by lawe, ryghte as a Iustyce dampneth hym that is coulpa∣ble to the death: But let the Iustice be ware that he do it ryghtfully, & that he do it not for delyte to spyll bloode, but for kepyng of rygh¦teousnes. An other homicide is done for ne∣cessitie, as when a mā sleeth an other in his defence, and that he ne maye none otherwyse escape wythout slaughter of hys aduersary, he doth synne, and he shal beare penaunce as for deedly synne. Also yf a man by case or ad∣uenture shote an arowe or caste a stone, with whych he sleeth a man, he is an homicide. Al so if a womā by negligēce ouerlieth her child in her slepynge, it is homicide & deedly synne Also when a man distourbleth conception of a chylde, and maketh a woman eyther ba∣reyne by drynkynge of venymous herbes, thorough whyche she maye not conceyue, or sletth a chylde by drynkes, or els putteth cer∣tayne materiall thynges in her secre places to slee the chylde, or els doth vnkyndly synne by whyche a man or a womā shedeth her na∣ture in maner or in a place there as a chylde maye not be conceyued. Or els yf so be that a woman hathe conceyued, and hurteth her selfe, and by that myshap the chylde is slayne yet it is homicide. What saye we of those women that murtheren her chyldren for by∣cause of eschewynge of worldly shame? Cer∣tes it is an horryble homicide. Homicide is also yf a man approche to a womā by desyre of lecherye, thorough whyche the chylde is peryshed, or els smyteth a woman wetyngly throughe whyche she leseth her chylde: All these bene homicides and horrible dedly syn∣nes. Yet come there of yre mo synnes, as well in worde as in thought, and dede: As he that arretteth vpon God, or blameth god of the thynge of whych he is hym selfe gylty or dyspyseth God and all hys halowes, as done the cursed hasardours in dyuers coun∣treyes: Thys cursed synne done they, when they fele in her herte ful wyckedly of God & of hys halowes. Also when they treate vn∣reuerentlye the sacrament of the aulter, that synne is so great that vnneth it may be relea¦sed, but that the mercy of God passeth al hys werkes it is so greate and he so benygne. Then commeth of yre an atterly anger, whē a man is sharpelye amoneshed in hys shryfte to leaue hys synne: Then woll he be angry and answere hokerlye and angerlye, or de∣fende or excuse hys synne by vnstedfastnesse of hys fleshe, or elles he dydde it for to holde companye wyth hys felowes, or elles he say¦eth the fende entyced hym, or elles he dothe it for hys youth, or elles his complexion is so coragious that he maye not forbeare, or elles it is hys destenye he sayeth vnto a certayne age, or elles he sayeth it commeth hym of gē∣tylnesse of hys aūcesters, and semblable thyn¦ges. All these maner of folke so wrappe hem in her synnes, that they ne woll not delyuer hym selfe: For sothlye no wyghte that excu¦seth hym selfe wylfullye of hys synne, maye not be delyuered of hys synne tyl that he me∣kelye beknoweth hys synne. After thys then commeth swearynge, that is expresse a∣gaynste the commaundemente of God, and thys befalleth often of angre and of yre. God sayeth: Thou shalte not take the name of thy Lorde God in vayne or in ydell. Also oure Lorde Iesu Christe sayeth by the worde of saynte Mathewe: Ne wyll ye not sweare in all maner, neyther by heauen, for it is goddes trone, ne by earth, for it is the benche of his feete, ne by Hierusalem, for it is the cytie of a greate kynge, ne by thyne heed, for thou mayste not make an heere neyther whyte ne blacke: but say by youre worde, yea yea, naye naye: and what that is more, it is of yuell. Thus sayeth Christe. For Chri∣stes sake sweare not so synfullye in dysmem∣brynge of Christe: By soule, herte, bones, and bodye, for certes it semeth that ye thynke that the cursed Iewes ne dysmembred not y∣noughe the preciyous persone of Christe, but ye dysmembre hym more. And yf so be that the lawe compell you to sweare, then ruleth you after the lawe of God in your swearyng as sayeth Ieremy the fourth chapter. Thou shalte kepe thre condicions, thou shalt swere in trouth, in dome & in ryghtwysenesse, thys is to saye, thou shalte sweare sothe. For eue∣rye lesynge is ayenst Christ, for Christ is ve∣rye trouth. And thynke well thys that eue¦rye great swearer not compelled laufully to swere, the plage shal not depart fro his house whyle he vseth suche vnlawfull swearynge.

Thou shalte swere also in dome, when thou arte constrayned by thy domes man to wyt∣nesse trouthe: Also thou shalt not sweare for enuye, neyther for fauoure, neyther for mede or rewarde, but onelye for ryghteousnesse & for declarynge of it to the honoure and wor∣shyppe of God, and to the aydinge and helpe of thyne euen christen. And therfore euerye man that taketh goddes name in ydel, or fal∣selye sweareth wyth hys mouthe, or els ta∣keth on hym the name of Christe to be called a christen man, and lyueth ayenst Christes ly¦uynge and hys teachynge, all they take god∣des name in ydell. Loke also what sayeth saynt Peter, Actuum. iiij. Capitu. Non est aliud nomē sub celo. &c. There is none other name sayeth saynt Peter vnder heauen yeue to men, in whyche they maye be saued, that is to saye, but the name of Iesu Christ. Take hede eke howe precious is the name of Iesu Christ, as sayeth saynt Paule, ad Philippen¦ses secundo. In nomine Iesu. &c. That in the name of Iesu euery knee of heauenly creatu∣res, earthlye, and of hell shulde bowe, for it is so hye and so worshypfull, that the cursed fende in hel shulde tremble to heare it named Then semeth it that men that sweare so hor∣riblye by hys blessed name, that they dyspyse it more boldely then the cursed Iewes, or els the dyuell that trembleth whē he heareth hys name.

Nowe certes syth that swearyng, but yf it be lawfullye done, is so hyelye defended: moche more is forswearynge falslye, and yet nedelesse.

What say we also of hem that delyte hem in swearynge, and holde it a genterye or a māly dede to sweare great othes? And what of hem y^t of very vsage ne cease not to sweare greate othes, all be the cause not worthe a strawe? Certes thys is horrible synne. Swe¦rynge sodeynly is also a great synne. But let vs go now to that horrible synne swearynge of adiuration and coniuration, as done these false enchaūtours or nigromācers in basyns full of water, or in a bryght swearde, in a cer∣cle, in a fyre, or in the sholderbone of a shepe? I can not saye but that they done cursedly & dampnably ayenst Christe, and all the fayth of holy churche.

What say we of hem y^t beleue on Deuina¦les, as by flyghte or by noyse of byrdes or of beestes, or by sorte, by Geomācye, by dremes, by chyrkynge of dores or crakynge of houses, by gnawynge of rattes, & suche maner wret∣chednesse▪ Certes al these thynges ben defen¦ded by god and holy church, for whyche they bē accursed tyl they come to amendemēt y^t on such fylth set her belyue. Charmes for woū∣des or maladye of men or of beestes, yf they take any effecte, it maye be perauenture that God suffreth it, for folke shuld yeue the more fayth and reuerence to hys name.

Nowe woll I speke of leasynges whych generally is false sygnifyaunce of worde in entent to dysceyue hys euen christen. Some lesynge is, of which there cometh none auaū∣tage to no wyght, and some leasyng turneth to the profyte or ease of o man, and to the da∣mage of an other man. An other leasynge is for to saue hys lyfe or hys catell, whych com∣meth of delyte for to lye, in which delyte they woll forge a longe tale, and paynt it wyth al circumstaunces, where al the tale of y^e groūd is false. Some leasynge cometh for he woll susteyne hys wordes: Some leasyng cometh of retchelesnesse wythout auysemēt, and sem¦blable thynges. Lette vs nowe touche the vyce of flaterye, whyche ne cometh not glad∣lye but for drede, or for couetyse. Flatterye is generally wronful praysynge. Flaterers bene the dyuels nouryces, that noryshe, hys chyldren wyth mylke of losyngerye: Forsoth Salomon sayeth that Flatery is worse then detraction, for somtyme detractiō maketh an hauteyne man be the more humble, for he dre¦deth detraction, but certes flaterye maketh a man tenhaunce hys herte and countenaunce Flaterers be y^e deuels enchaūtours, for they make a man to wene hym selfe be lyke, that he is not lyke. Those be lyke to Iudas that betraye a man to sell hym to hys enemy. Fla¦terers ben the dyuels chapleyns y^t euer singe Placebo. I reken flatery in the vyces of yre for ofte tyme yf a man be wrothe wyth ano¦ther, then woll he flater some wyghte to sus¦tayne hym in hys quarell. Speake we nowe of suche cursynge as cometh of yrous herte Malyson generally maye be sayd euery ma∣ner power of harme: Such cursing bereueth man fro the raygne of God, as sayeth saynt Poule. And oft tyme such cursyng wrongful¦ly returneth ayen to him that curseth, as byrd that turneth ayen to hys owne neste. And

ouer all thynge men ought eshewe to curse her chyldren and yeue to the deuel her engen¦drure as farre forth as in hem is: certes it is great peryll and great synne. Lette vs then speake of chydynge and reproche, whych ben full great woundes in mās herte, for they vn¦sowe the semes of frendshyp in mans herte: for certes vnneth maye a man be playnly be accorded wyth hym, that hym openly hath re¦uyled and repreued, and dyslaundred: Thys is a full gastly synne as Christe sayeth in the gospell. And take hede nowe that he that re∣preueth hys neyghboure eyther he repreueth hym by some harme of paine that he hath vp¦pon hys body as mesell, croked, harlot, or by some synne that he doth. Now yf he repreue hym by harme of payne, then turneth the re∣••••efe to Iesu Christ: For payne is sende by the ryghtwyse sonde of God, and by hys suf∣fraunce, be it meselry, meyme, or maladye: And yf he repreue him vncharitably of synne as thou holour, thou dronkelewe harlot, and so forth. Then pertayneth that to the reioy∣synge of the deuell, whyche euer hath ioye y^t men done synne. And certes chydynge maye not come but of vylaynous hert, for after the haboundaunce of the herte speaketh y^e mouth full ofte. And ye shal vnderstande, that loke by any waye when any man shall chastyse or correct another, that he beware frō chydyng or repryuynge: for truely but he beware, he maye full lyghtlye quycken the fyre of angre and of wroth, whych he shulde quenche: And perauenture sleeth him whych he myght cha¦styse wyth benignite. For as sayeth Salomō The amiable tonge is the tree of lyfe, that is to saye, of lyfe spirituell. And sothlye a disso¦lute tonge sleeth the spirites of hym that re∣preueth, and also of hym whych is repreued Lo, what sayeth saynt Augustyne: There is nothynge so lyke the dyuels chylde, as he whych ofte chydeth.

A seruaunt of God behoueth not to chyde And thoughe that chydynge be a vyllainous thynge betwyxte all maner folke, yet it is cer¦tis moost vncouenable bytwene a man and hys wyfe, for there is neuer reste. And ther∣fore sayeth Salomon: An house that is vncouered and droppynge and a chydynge wyfe, ben a lyke.

A man whych is in a droppynge house in many places, though he eschewe the drop¦pynge in one place, it droppeth on hym in an other place: So fareth it by a chydynge wyfe, yf she chyde hym in one place she woll chyde hym in another: And therfore better and greatly more plesaunt is a morsell or ly∣tell gobet of bread wyth ioye, then an house fylled full of delyces wyth chydynge & guer∣rynge, sayeth Salomon. Saynt Poule say¦eth: O ye women, beth ye subiecte to youre husbandes, as you behoueth and ought in God: And ye mē loueth your wyues, ad Co∣lossenses .iij.

Afterwarde speke we of scornyng whych is a wycked synne, and namely when he scor∣neth a man for hys good werkes: For certes suche scorners fare lyke the foule tode, that maye not endure to smell y^e swete sauoure of the vyne whē it flourysheth. These scorners bene partynge felowes wyth the dyuell, for they haue ioye whē the dyuell wynneth, and sorowe yf he leseth. They ben aduersaryes of Iesu Christ, for they hate that he loueth, that is to saye, saluation of soule.

Speake we nowe of wycked counsayle, y^e whych is a traytoure, for he dysceyueth hym that trusteth in hym: Vt Achitofel ad Salo¦monem. But nathelesse, yet is hys wycked counsayle fyrst ayenst hym selfe, for as sayeth the wyse man: euery false lyuynge hath this properte in hym selfe, that he that wol anoye another man, he anoyeth fyrst hym selfe. And men shall vnderstande, that man shall not take hys counsayle of false folke, ne of an¦grye folke, or greuous folke, ne of folke that loue specially to moche worldly folke, name∣ly in counsaylynge of soules.

Nowe cometh the synne of hem that sowe and make dyscorde amonge folke, whyche is a synne that Christ hateth vtterly, & no won∣der is: for he deyde for to make concorde. And more shame do they to Christe then dyd they that hym crucifyed: For God loueth better that frendship be amonges folke then he dyd hys owne body, which that he gaue for vnite Therfore ben they lykened to the dyuell that euer be aboute to make dyscorde. Nowe com¦meth the synne of double tōge, such as speke fayre before folke, and wyckedly behynde, or els they make semblaūt as though they spak of good entencion, or els in game and playe, and yet they speake of wycked entent.

Nowe cometh hewrayenge of counsayle,

through whych a man is dyffamed: Certes vnneth maye he restore the domage. Nowe cometh menace, that is an open folye, for he that ofte menaceth, he threateth more then he maye performe full ofte tyme. Nowe com¦meth ydell wordes, that is wythout profyte of hym that speaketh the wordes, and also of hym that herkeneth the wordes: Or els ydel wordes ben those that ben nedelesse or wyth out entent of naturall profyte. And all be it that ydell wordes be somtyme venyall synne yet shulde men doute hem, for we shall yeue rekenynge of hem before God. Now cometh ianglynge that maye not be wythout synne. And as sayeth Salomon: it is a sygne of a perte folye. And therfore a philosopher sayde when men asked hym howe that he shulde please the people, he answerde: Do many good workes and speake few vanities. After this cometh the synne of iaperies, that ben y^e deuels apes, for they make folke to laughe at her iaperye, as folke do at the gaudes of an ape: whych iapes defendeth saynt Paule. Loke howe that vertuous wordes and holy comforte hem that trauayle in the seruyce of Christ: Ryght so comforteth the villaynous wordes and knackes of iapers hem, that tra∣uayle in the seruyce of the deuell. These bene the synnes of the tonge, that come of yre and of other synnes.

The remedy ayenst Ire

THe remedy ayenst Ire, is a ver¦tue that men cal Mansuetude, that is Debonairie, and also another vertue that men clepe Pacience or sufferaunce. Debo∣nayrte wythdraweth and refrayneth the stee rynges and mouynges of mannes corage in herte, in suche maner that they ne skyppe not out by anger ne yre. Sufferaunce suffereth swetely all the anoyaunces and wronges y^e men done to man outwarde. Saynt Ierome sayeth thys of debonairte, y^t it doth no harme to no wyght, ne sayeth: ne for no harme that men do ne saye, he ne chafeth ayenst reason. Thys vertue somtyme cometh of nature: for as sayeth the philosopher, A man is a quycke thynge by nature, debonayre and tretable to goodnesse: but when debonairte is enformed of grace, then it is the more worth.

Pacience is another remedye ayenst ire, & is a vertue that suffreth swetely euery man∣nes goodnesse, & is not wroth for no harme that is done to hym. The philosopher sayeth that pacience is the vertue that suffreth debo¦nairly all the outrages of aduersite, and eue∣rye wycked worde. Thys vertue maketh a man lyke to God, and maketh hym goddes owne chylde: as sayeth Christ. Thys vertue dyscomfyteth thyne enemye. And therfore sayeth the wyse man: Yf thou wolde van∣quyshe thyne enemye learne to suffre. And thou shalte vnderstande that a man suffreth foure maner of greuaunces in outward thyn¦ges, ayenst the whyche foure he muste haue foure maner of paciences.

The fyrst greuaunce is of wycked wordes whyche suffred Iesu Christe wythout grut∣chynge full paciently, when the Iewes dys∣pysed hym full ofte. Suffre thou therfore pa¦ciently, for the wyse man sayeth: Yf thou stryue with a foole, though y^e foole be wroth or though he laugh, alwaye thou shalte haue no reste. That other greuaunce outwarde is to haue domage of thy catell: There ayenst suffred Christ full paciently, whē he was d••s∣poyled of al that he had in thys lyfe, and that was but hys clothes. The thyrde greuaunce is a man to haue harme in hys body: That suffred Christ full paciently in al his passion The fourth greuaunce is in outragious la∣boure in werkes▪ wherfore I saye, that folke that make her seruauntes to trauayle to gre∣uouslye or out of tyme, as in holy dayes, soth¦ly they do great synne. Here ayenst suffered Christ full paciently, and taught vs pacience when he bare vpon hys blessed shoulders the crosse, vpon which he shuld suffre dyspytous death. Here maye men learne to be paciēt, for certes not only Christen be paciente for loue of Iesu Christ, and for reward of blessed lyfe that is perdurable, but certes the olde pay∣nems that neuer were christened, cōmended and vsed the vertue of paciēce. A philosopher vpon a tyme that wolde haue beate his dysci¦ple for hys great trespace, for whych he was moued, & brought a rodde to beate the chylde & when this chyld sawe the rodde, he sayd to hys mayster: what thynke ye to do? I woll beate the sayd the mayster for thy correction. Forsoth sayd the childe, ye ought fyrst correct

your selfe that haue lost al your pacience for the offence of a chylde. Forsoth sayd the may∣ster all wepynge, thou sayest soth: Haue thou the rodde my dere chylde, and correcte me for myne impacience. Of pacience cometh obedi∣ence, throughe whyche a man is obediente to Christ & to al hem to which he ought be obe∣diēt in Christ. And vnderstand wel that obe∣dience is perfyte when that a man doth glad lye and hastely with good herte entierlye, all that he shulde do. Obedience generally is to perfourme the doctryne of God and of hys so ueraygnes, to whych hym ought to be obey∣saunt in all ryghteousnesse.

¶De Accidia.

AFter the synnes of Enuy and yre, nowe woll I speke of the synne of Accidie: for enuy blin¦deth the herte of a mā, and yre troubleth a man & accidie ma∣keth hym heuy, thoughtfull & pensyfe. Enuye and yre maken bytternesse in herte▪ whych bytternesse is mother of accidie & taketh fro hym the loue of al goodnesse, thē is accidie the anguyshe of trouble of herte. And saynt Augustyne sayeth: It is anoye of goodnesse and anoye of harme. Certes thys is a dampnable synne, for it doth wronge to Iesu Christ, in as moche as it benōmeth the seruyce that men ought do to Christe, as say∣eth Salomon: but accidie doth no suche dili∣gence. He doth all thynge wyth anoye & with wrawnesse, slacknesse, and excusation: wyth ydelnesse and vnlust.

For whych the boke sayeth: Acursed be he that doth the seruice of god negligently. Thē is accidie enemye to euery estate of man. For certes the state of man is in thre maners.

Eyther it is in the estate of Innocency, as was the estate of Adam before that he fyll in to synne, in whych estate he was hold to wor¦ke, as in praysynge and laudynge God. And ther estate is y^e estate of synfull mē: in which estate men bene holden to laboure in pray∣enge to God for amendement of her synnes, and that he woll graunte hem to ryse out of her synnes.

Another estate is the state of grace, in whi¦che state he is holden to workes of penitence: and certes to all these thynges is accidie con∣trary, for he loueth no busynesse at all. Nowe certes, thys foule synne accidie is also a full great enemye to the lyfelode of the body, for it ne hath no purueyaunce ayenst tēporel ne∣cessite, for it forswoleth, forslogeth, & destroy∣eth al goodes temporel by rechelesnesse. The iiij. thynge is, that accidie is lyke hem y^e bene in the payne of hel, bycause of her slouth and heuynesse: for they that be dampned bene so bounde, that they maye neyther well do ne thynke. Of accidie cometh fyrst that a man is anoyed and encombred to do any goodnesse, & maketh y^e God hath abhominacion of such accidie, as sayeth saynt Iohn. Nowe cometh slouth that wol nat suffre no hardnesse ne pe∣naunce: for sothly slouth is so teder and so de¦lycate, as sayeth Salomon, that he woll suf∣fre no hardnesse ne penaunce, and therfore he marreth all that he doth. Ayenst thys rotten synne of accidie & slouth, shulde men exercise hem selfe & vse hem to do good workes: and māly and vertuously catch corage to do, thyn kynge that our Lorde Iesu Christe quyteth euery good dede, be it neuer so lyte. Vsage of labour is a great thyng. For it maketh as say¦eth saynt Bernard, y^e labourer to haue strōge armes and harde senewes: & slouth maketh heuye, feble, and tender. Then cometh drede to begynne to worke any good workes. For certes he that enclyneth to synne, hym thyn∣keth it is so great an empryse for to vndertak the workes of goodnesse, and casteth in hys herte, that the circumstaunces of goodnesse bene so greuouse and weyghtye for to suffre, that he dare not vndertake to do workes of goodnesse, as sayeth saynt Gregorye.

Nowe cometh wanhope, that is dyspayre of the mercye of God, that cometh somtyme of to moch outragious sorow, and somtyme of to moch drede, ymaginynge that he hath do so moch synne, that it wol not auayle him tho he wolde repent hym and forsake synne: thorough whych dyspayre or drede, he aban∣doneth al hys herte to euery maner synne, as sayeth saynt Augustyne. Whych dampnable synne, yf it continue vnto hys ende, it is cal∣led synnynge in the holy goost.

Thys horrible synne is so peryllous, that he that is dyspayred there nys no felony ne no synne that he douteth for to do, as she∣wed well by Iudas. Certes aboue al synnes then is thys synne moost dyspleasaunt to Christ and moste aduersary. Sothly he that

dyspayreth hym is lyke to the cowarde cham¦pion recreaunt, that flyeth wythout nede. A∣las alas, nedeles is he recreaūt, and nedelesse dyspayreth. Certes the mercy of God is euer redy to the penitent person, & is aboue al hys werkes. Alas can not a mā bethynke hym on the gospel of saint Luke. xv. where as Christ sayeth, that as well shall there be ioye in hea¦uen vpon a synfull man that doth penitence, as vpon foure score & nynetene ryghtful mē that nede no penitence. Loke ferther in the same gospell the ioye and y^e feest of the good man that had loste hys sonne, whē hys sonne wyth repentaunce was retourned to hys fa∣ther. Can they not remembre hem also, that (as sayeth saynt Luke) capi. xxx. Howe that the thefe that was hāged besyde Iesu Christ sayd: Lorde remembre me, when thou com∣mest in to thy reygne. Forsoth sayd Christ, I saye to the: To daye shalte thou be with me in paradyse. Certes, there is none so horrible synne of man, that ne maye in hys lyfe be dys¦troyed by penitence, thorough vertue of pas∣syon and of the death of Christe. Alas what nede men then to be dyspayred, syth that hys mercy is so ready and large? Aske and haue. Then commeth sompnolence, that is slug∣gye slombrynge, whyche maketh a man he∣uy and dull in body and in soule, & this sinne cometh of slouth: And certes the time that by waye of reason man shulde not slepe, is by y^e morowe, but yf there were cause reasonable. For sothely the morowe tyde is most couena¦ble a man to saye hys prayers, & for to thāke God, and to honoure God, & to yeue almesse to the poore, that cometh fyrst in the name of Iesu Christ. Lo, what sayth Salomō? who so woll by the morowe awake to seke me, he shall fynde me. Then cometh neglygence or retchelesnesse, that recketh of nothynge. And though that ignoraunce be mother of al har∣mes, certes neglygence is the noryce. Negli∣gence ne dothe no force when he shall do a thynge, whether he do it well or euell. The remedye of these two synnes is, as sayeth the wyse man: That he that dredeth God spa∣reth not to do that he ought to do, and he that loueth god he woll do dylygēce to please god by hys werkes, and abādone hym selfe wyth al hys myght wel for to do. Thē cometh ydel¦nesse, that is the yate of all harmes. An ydell man is lyke to a place that hath no walles, y^e dyuell maye entre on euerye syde, or shote at hym that is dyscouert, by temptation on eue¦ry syde. Thys ydelnesse is the thorruke of all wycked and vylayne thoughtes, and of al or∣dure. Certes the heauen is yeue to hem that wyll laboure, and not to ydell folke. Also Da¦uid sayeth, that they ne be not in the laboure of men, ne they shall not be whypped wyth men. Certes then semeth it they shall be tur∣mented wyth the dyuels in hell, but yf they do penaunce.

Then cometh the synne that mē cal Tardi∣tas, as when a man is so latered, or tarienge or he woll tourne to god: and certes that is a great foly. He is lyke hym that falleth in the dyche, and woll not aryse. And thys vyce co∣meth of false hope, that he thynketh he shall lyue longe, but that hope fayleth full ofte.

Then cometh lachesse, that is he that whē he begynneth any good worke, anone he wol leaue and stynte it, as done they that haue a∣ny persone to gouerne, and ne take of him no more hede, anone as they fynde any contrary or any anoye. These ben the newe sheperdes that let theyr shepe wyttyngly go renue to y^e wolfe that is in the breres, or do not force of her owne gouernaunce. Of thys cometh po∣uerte and destruction bothe of spirituall and temporell thynges. Then cometh a maner coldnesse that freseth the herte of man. Then cometh vndeuotion, through whyche a man is so blont, and as sayeth saynte Bernarde, hath suche langour in hys soule, that he may neyther rede ne synge in holy church, ne here ne thynke of no deuotion, ne trauayle wyth hys handes in no good worke, that it nys to hym vnsauery and al apalled. Then wareth he slowe and slombry and sone wol be wroth and sone is enclyned to hate and enuy. Then cometh the synne of worldly sorowe, such as is called Tristitia, that sleeth a man, as say∣eth saynt Poule. For certes suche sorow wor¦keth the death of the soule and body also, for therof cometh that a man is anoyed of hys owne lyfe. wherfore suche sorowe shorteth full ofte the lyfe of man, er that hys tyme is come by waye of kynde.

¶Remedium contra pec∣catum Accidie.

AYenst thys horryble synne of Accidie, and the braunches of the same, ther is a vertue that is called Fortitudo or strēgth, that is an affection, throughe whiche a man dispyseth anoy∣cus thynges: This vertue is so mighty and so rygorous, that it dare withstonde mighti∣ly, and wisely kepe hym self fro perylles that ben wycked, and wrastel ayenst thassautes of the dyuel, for it enhaunceth and enforceth the soule, right as accidie abateth & maketh it fe∣ble: for thys fortitude may endure by longe suffraunce the trauayles that ben couenable. This vertue hath manye speces, the fyrste is called Magnanimite, that is to say, great co∣rage. For certes there behoueth great corage ayenst accidie, lest that it ne swalowe y^e soule by the synne of sorowe, or distroye it by wan∣hope. Certes this vertue maketh folke vnder take harde and greuous thynges by her own wyl wisely and resonably. And for as moch as the deuyll fyghteth ayenst a man more by subtylte and sleyght than by strength, ther∣fore shall a man wythstonde hym by wytte, reason, and discretion. Thā are there the ver∣tues of faythe and hope in God and in hys sayntes, to eschue and accomplisshe the good workes, in the whyche he purposeth fermely to contynue. Than cometh suretie or syker∣nesse, and that is whan a man ne douteth no traueyle in tyme commyng, of the good wor∣kes that he hathe begonne. Than cometh Magnifycence, that is to saye, whan a man dothe and parformeth great workes of good¦nesse that he hath begon, and that is thende why that men shuld do good workes. For in the accomplishyng of good workes, lyeth the great guerdon. Thā is there Constance, that is stablenesse of corage, and thys shulde be in hert by stedfast faythe, and in mouthe, in be∣••ynge, in chere, and in dede. Also there ben mo specyall remedyes ayenst accidie, in dy∣uers workes: as in cōsyderatyō of y^e paynes of hell, the ioyes of heuen, and in truste of the grace of the holy ghoost, that wyll yeue hym myght to performe his good entent.

¶De Auaricia.

AFter Accidie woll I speke of Auarice, and of couetyse. Of whych syn saynt Poule sayth the rote of al harmes is coue∣tyse, ad Timoth. vi. For soth∣ly whan the hert of man is cō¦founded in it selfe and troubled, and that the soule hath lost the confort of god, than seketh he an ydell solace of worldlye thynges. Aua∣rice, after the discryption of saynt Augustyn, is a lycorousnesse in hert to haue erthly thyn∣ges. Some other folke saye, that auaryce is for to purchace many erthely thynges, & no∣thynge to yeue to hem that haue nede.

And vnderstonde that auarice stōdeth nat onely in londe ne catel, but somtyme in sciēce and glorye, & in euerye maner of outragious thynges is Auaryce. And couetyse is thys. Couetyse is for to coueit suche thynges that thou hast nat. And auarice is to with holde & kepe suche thynges as thou haste wythout right. Sothly this auarice is a synne that is ful dāpnable, for al holy writ curseth it, & spe¦keth ayenst y^e vice, for it doth wrong to Iesu christ: for it taketh fro him the loue that men to hym owe, & tourneth it backeward ayenst al reason, and maketh that the auarycious man hath more hoope in hys catell, than in Iesu Christ, and dothe more obseruaunce in kepyng of hys treasour, than he dothe in the seruyce of Iesu Christ. And therfore saythe saynt Poule, ad Ephesios quinto: That an auarycious man is the thraldome of idola∣trye. What dyfference is there betwyxt an ydolaster and an auaricyous man? But that an ydolaster perauenture ne hathe nat but a mawmet or two, & the auaricious man hath many. For certes euery floreyn in hys co••re, is his maumet. And certes the synne of mau∣metry is the fyrste that God defended, as in the .x. commaūdements it beareth wytnesse, in Exodi Capitu. xx. Thou shalte haue no false goddes before me, ne thou shalte make to the no graue thynge. Thus is an auarici∣ous man, that loueth hys treasour before God, an idolaster. And through this cursed synne of Auyryce and Couetyse, cometh these harde lordeshyppes, through whyche they ben streyned by tyllages, customes, and ca∣riages, more than her duetye or reason is, or elles take they of her bondmen amercya∣mentes, whyche myght more resonablye be

called extortions than mercyamentes. Of whiche amerciamentes or raunsomynge of bondmen, some lordes stewardes say that it is rightful, for as moche as a churle hath no temporel thynge, that it ne is his lordes, as they saye. But certes these lordshyppes do wrong, that bereue theyr bondmen thynges that they neuer yaue hem. Augustinus de Ciuitate dei. Libro. ix. Sothe is, that the con¦ditiō of thraldom, and the fyrst cause of thral∣dome was for synne.

Thus may ye se, that thoffence deserued thraldome, but nat nature. Wherfore these lordes ne shulde not moche glorifye hem in her lordeshyps, sythe that they by natural cō∣dycion ben not lordes ouer thralles, but for that thraldome came fyrste by the deserte of synne. And more ouer there as the law sayth, that temporel goodes of bonde folke ben the goodes of her lorde: ye, that is for to vnder∣stonde, the goodes of the Emperour, to de∣fende hem in her ryght, but not to robbe hem ne reue hem. Therfore saythe Seneca: thy prudence shulde lyue benygnly with y^e thral∣les. Those that thou callest thy thralles, ben goddes people: and for humble people ben Christes frendes, they ben contubernyall w^t the lordes. Thynke also that of suche sede as chorles sprynge, of suche sede spryng lordes: as wel may the chorle be saued as the lorde. The same dethe that taketh the chorle, suche dethe taketh the lorde. Wherfore I rede do right so with the chorle as thou woldest that thy lorde dyd wyth the yf thou were in hys plyght. Euery synful man is a chorle to syn: I rede the lorde certes, that thou werke in suche wyse with thy chorles, that they rather loue the thā drede the. I wote wel that there is degree aboue degree, as reson is, and skyll is that men do her deuoyre there as it is due: But certes extorcions and dispyte of your vn¦derlynges is dampnable. And ferthermore vnderstonde wel, that these conquerours or tyrauntes make ful ofte thralles of hem that ben borne of as royal bloode as ben they that hem conquere. This name of thraldom was neuer erst knowe, tyl that Noe sayd that his sonne Canam shulde be thral to his brethern for hys synne. What saye we than of hē that pyl and do extorcions to holy church: Certes the swerde that men yeue fyrste to a knyght, whan he is newe dubbed, sygnyfyeth that he shulde defende holy churche, and not robbe and pyl it, and who so doth he is traytour to Chryst. And as saythe saynt Austyn, they ben the dyuels woulues that strangle the shepe of Iesu christ, and done worse than woulues for sothely whan the woulfe hathe full hys wombe, he stynteth to strangle shepe: But sothlye the pyllours and dystroyers of holy church goodes ne do not so, for they ne stynte neuer to pyll. Nowe as I haue sayde, sythe so is that synne was fyrste cause of thraldom than is it thus, that at the tyme that all thys world was in synne, thā was al this worlde in thraldom and in subiection, but certes syth the tyme of grace came, god ordayned y^t some folke shulde be more hye in estate and in de∣gre, and some folke more lowe, and that eche shulde be serued in hys astate. And therfore in some coūtreys there they be thralles, whā they haue turned hem to y^e faythe, they make her thralles free out of thraldome, and ther∣fore certes the lorde oweth to hys man that the man oweth to the lorde. The pope cal∣leth hym selfe seruaunte of the seruauntes of God, but for as the estate of holy churche ne might not haue ben, ne the comen profyte myght not haue be kept, ne peace ne reste in erthe, but yf god had ordayned that some mā had hier degree and some men lower. Ther∣fore was soueraynte ordayned to kepe, mayn¦tayne, and defende her vnderlynges and her subiectes in reason, as ferforth as it lyeth in her power, and not to distroye ne confounde hem. Wherfore I say, that those lordes that ben lyke wolues that deuour the possessyons or the catel of poore folkes wrongfully, with out mercy or mesure, they shal receyue be the same mesure y^t they haue mesured to poore folke, the mesure of Iesu Christ but it be a∣mended. Nowe cometh disceyte betwixt mar¦chaunt and marchaunt. And thou shalt vn∣derstonde that marchaundyse is in two ma∣ners, that one is bodily, and that other is goostly: that one is honest and leful and that other is dishonest and vnleful.

The bodily marchaundyse that is lefull & honest is thys: that there as god hath orday∣ned that a reygne or a countreye is suffysaūt to hym selfe, than it is honeste and lefull that of haboundaunce of hys countrey, men helpe an other countrey that is nedy: And therfore there muste be merchaūtes to bring

fro one countrey to that other her marchaun¦dyse.

That other marchaundyse that mē haun∣ten with fraude, and trecherye, and disceyte, with leasynges and false othes, is right cur∣sed and dampnable. Espirituel marchaun∣dyse is properly Symonye, that is ententife desyre to bye any thynge espyrituel, that is a thynge whyche apertayneth to the sayntua∣rye of God, and to cure of the soule. This de∣syre yf so be that a man do hys dilygence to perfourme it, al be it that hys desyre ne take non effecte, yet it is to him a deedlye synne, & yf he be ordred, he is irreguler. Certes sy∣monye is called of Symon Magus, that wolde haue bought for temporell catell the yefte that God had yeue by the holy goost to saynt Peter and to the Apostels: And ther∣fore vnderstonde that he that selleth and he that byethe thynges espyrituels, ben called Symonyakes, be it by catell, be it by procu∣ring or by fleshly prayer of his frendes, flesh∣ly frendes or espyrituell frendes, flesshly in two maners, as by kynred or other frendes: Sothlye yf they praye for hym that is not worthy and able, it is symonye yf he take the benefice, and yf he be worthy and able there is none. That other maner is whan man or woman prayeth for folke to auaunce hem on¦ly for wycked fleshly affection, whyche they haue vnto the persons, and that is foule sy∣monye. But certes in seruyce, for which men yeuen thinges espyrituel vnto her seruaūtes it must be vnderstonde that the seruice muste be honest, or els not, and also that it be with∣out bargeynyng, and that the person be able. For as sayth saynt Damasen: Al the synnes of the worlde at regarde of this synne, are as a thyng of naught, for it is the greatest synne that may be after the synne of Lucifer and of Antichrist: For by this synne God forleseth the churche and the soule whyche he bought wyth hys precious bloode, by hem that yeue churches to hem that bē not worthy, for they put in theues hondes that steale the soules of Iesu Christ, and distroy hys patrimony. By suche vnworthy preestes and curates haue lende men lesse reuerence of the sacramentes of holy churche, and such yeuers of churches put the chyldren of Christ out, and put in the churche the dyuels owne sonnes: they sel the soules that lambes shulde kepe to the wolfe which strangleth hem, and therfore shal they neuer haue parte of the pasture of lambes, that is the blysse of heuen. Nowe cometh ha∣sardrie wyth hys apertenauntes, as tables and rafles, of whyche cometh disceyte, false othes, chydynges, and al rauynesse, blasphe∣mynges, and renyenges of God, and hate of hys neyghbours, waste of goodes, myspen∣dynge of tyme, and somtyme manslaughter. Certes hasardours ne mowe not be without great synne. Of auarice cometh also lesynges theft, false wytnesse, and false othes: and ye shall vnderstonde that these be great synnes, and expresse ayenst the commaundementes of God, as I haue sayd. False wytnesse is in worde, and also in dede: In worde as for to byreue thy neyghboures good name by thy false wytnesse, or byreue hym his catel or his herytage, by thy false wytnessyng, whā thou for yre or for mede, or for enuye, bearest false wytnesse, or accusest him, or excusest thy selfe falsly. Ware ye questmongers and notaries: Certes for false wytnessynge was Susan in ful great sorowe & payn, and manye another mo. The syn of thefte is also expresse ayenst goddes hest, & in two maners, corporell and spirituel, the temporel theft is: As for to take thy neyghbours catel ayenst his wyl, be it by force or by sleight, be it by mette or by mesure by stealynge also of false endytementes vpō hym and in borowyng of thy neyghbours ca¦tell, in entent neuer to paye it ayen, and sem∣blable thynges. Espyrituel thefte is sacry∣lege, that is to say, hurtyng of holye thynges sacred to Christ in two maners, by reason of the holy place, as churches or churche yerdes For which euery villaynous synne that men don in suche places maye be called sacrylege, or euerye vyolence in the semblable places. Also that they withdrawe falsely the rightes that longe to holye churche and pleasynge. And generally sacrilege is to reue holy thing fro holye place, or vnholye thynge out of ho∣lye place, or holy thynge out of vnholy place.

¶Releuatio contra pecca∣tum Auaricie.

HOwe shal ye vnderstonde, that releuynge of auarice is miseri∣corde and pyte largely taken. And men might aske why that misericorde and pyte are rele∣uyng of auarice: Certes the auaricious man sheweth no pyte ne misericorde to the nede∣ful man. For he delyteth hym in the kepynge of hys treasure, and nat in the rescuynge ne releuynge of his euyn christen. And therfore speke I fyrste of mysericorde. Than is my∣sericorde (as saythe the Philosopher) A ver¦tue, by whyche the corage of man is stered, by y^e mysease of hym that is myseased. Vpon whyche mysericorde foloweth pyte, in per∣formyng and fulfilling of charitable workes of mercy, helpeth and comforteth him that is myseased. And certes these thynges moue and stere a man to mysericorde of Iesu christ that he yaue hym selfe for our offence, & suf∣fred dethe for mysericorde, and forgaue vs our original synnes, and therby released vs fro the paynes of hel, & mynished the paynes by penitens, and yeueth grace wel to do, and at laste the blysse of heuen. The speces of mysericorde ben for to lene, and also for to yeue: for to foryeue and releace, and for to haue pyte in herte and compassyō, of the mis∣chefe of his euen christen, and also to chastyse there as nede is. Another maner of remedy ayenst Auaryce, is resonable largesse: but sothlye here behoueth the consyderacyon of the grace of Iesu Christ, and of the tempo∣rell goodes, and also of the goodes perdura∣ble that Iesu Christ yafe to vs, and to haue remembraunce of the dethe whyche he shal receyue, he knoweth not whan where, ne howe: and also that he shall forgo all that he hath, saue onely that whyche he hath expen∣ded in good werkes.

But for as moche as some folke been vn∣mesurable, menne ought for to auoyde and eschue folyshe largesse, the whiche some peo∣ple cal waste.

Certes he that is foole large, yeueth not hys catel, but he leseth hys catel?

Sothlye what thynge that he yeueth for veynglorye, as to mynstrels and to folke to beare his renome in the world, he hath synne therof & none almesse: Certes he leseth foule hys good that he ne seketh wyth the yefte of hys good nothyng but synne. He is lyke to an horse that seketh rather to drynke drouy or troubled water than for to drynke water of the clere welle. To hem apperteynē the sayd cursynges, that Christ shal yeue at the day of dome, to hem that shal be dampned.

¶Sequitur de Gula.

AFter Auaryce cometh Glote∣ny, whyche is expresse ayenst the commaundement of god. Gloteny is vnntesurable ap∣petyte to eete or to drynke, or els to do ynough to the vnme¦surable appetyte and disordeyned couetyse to eate or to drynke. This synne corrupteth all thys worlde, as is well shewed in the synne of Adam and of Eue. Loke also what saythe saynt Poule of glotenye. Many (saythe he) gone, of whyche I haue often sayde to you, and nowe I say it wepynge, that ben the ene¦myes of the crosse of Chryst, of whyche the ende is dethe, and of whyche her wombe is her god and her glorye, in confusyon of hem that so deuour erthly thinges. He that is vsed to this synne of gloteny, he ne may no synne withstonde, he must be in seruage of al vices, for it is the dyuels hourde, there he hydeth and resteth hym. This synne hath many spe∣ces: The fyrste is dronkenesse that is the hor∣ryble sepulture of mans reson: and therfore whan man is dronke he hath loste his reson: And thys is deedly synne. But sothly whan that a man is not wonte to stronge drynke, and parauenture ne knoweth not y^e strength of the drynke, or hath feblesse in hys heed, or hathe trauayled, through whych he drinketh the more, al be he sodainly caught w^t drynke, it is no deedly synne, but venyal. The seconde spece of glotenye is, that the spyrite of a man wexeth al troubled, for dronkenesse byreneth him the discretion of his wytte.

The thyrde maner spece of glotonye is whan a man deuoureth his meate, and hath not ryghtful maner of eetyng. The fourth is whan through the great abundaunce of hys meete, the humours in hys body ben distem∣pred. The fyfth is foryetfulnesse by to moche drynkyng, for whych somtyme a man forget∣teth er the mornyng what he dyd on the eue∣nyng before.

In other maner ben distyncte the speces of glotenye after saynt Gregorie. The fyrste is For to eate before tyme to eate. The seconde is whā a man gyueth hym to delycate meate or drynke. The thyrde is whan men take to moche ouer measure. The fourthe is cu∣riosyte, wyth great entent to make and appa∣reyle hys meate. The fyfthe is for to eate to gredely.

These ben the fyue fyngers of the dyuels honde, by whyche he draweth solke to synne.

¶The remedy ayenst Glotony.

AYenst glotony the remedy is abstynē∣ce, as sayth Galyene: but that I holde nat meritorious, yf he do it for the heale of hys body. Saynte Augustyne woll that abstynence be done for vertue, and wyth pacience. Abstinence (sayth he) is lytel worth but yf a man haue good wyl therto, and but if he be enforced by pacience and charyte, and that men do it for goddes sake, and in hope to haue the blysse of heuen.

The felowes of abstynence be attempe∣raunce, that holdeth the meane in all thyn∣ges. Also shame that escheweth all dishone∣stye. Suffysaunce that seketh no ryche mea∣tes ne drynkes, ne dothe nat force of outragi∣••••g appareylyng of meate. Mesure also, that restreyneth by reason, the vnmesurable appe¦tyte of eatyng. Sobernesse also, that restray∣neth the outrage of drynke. Sparynge also, that restrayneth y^e delycate ease to sytte longe at meate, wherfore some folke stonden of her owne wyl whan they eete, bycause they wol eate at lasse leysar.

¶De Luxuria.

AFter Glotonye cometh Leche∣rye, for these two synnes been so nye cosyns, that oftyme they wol nat depart. God wote this synne is ful displesaunt to god, for he sayde hym selfe: do no lecherye. And therfore he putteth great paynes ayenst thys synne.

For in the olde lawe, yf a woman thrall were take in thys synne, she shulde be beate wyth staues to dethe. And yf she were a gen∣tylwoman she shulde be slayne wyth stones. And yf she were a bysshops doughter, she shulde be brent by goddes commaunde∣ment.

Moreouer by the synne of lecherye, God drowned al the world and after that he brent fyue cytees with thunder and lightnyng, and sanke hem in to hel.

Nowe lette vs speke than of the sayd styn∣king synne of lechery, that men cal auowtrye of wedded folke, that is to saye, yf that one of hem be wedded or els bothe.

Saynt Iohan saythe, that auoutrers shalbe in hell in a stacke brennynge of fyre and of brimstone for the stenche of her ordure: Cer∣tes the brekynge of this sacrament is an hor∣ryble thyng: It was made of God hym selfe in paradyse, and confermed by Iesu Christ, as wytnesseth saynt Mathewe in the gospel: A man shall leaue father and mother & take hym to hys wyfe, and they shalbe two in one flesh.

Thys sacrament betokeneth the knyttyng togyther of Chryste and holye churche. And not onely that god forbade auoutrye in dede, but also he commaunded that thou shuldest not coueyte thy neyghbours wyfe. In thys heste saythe saynt Augustyne is forboden all maner couetyse to do lecherye. Lo, what saythe saynt Mathewe in the gospell, that who so seeth a woman to couetyse of hys lust he hath done lecherye wyth her in his herte. Here may ye se that not only the dede of thys synne is forboden, but also the desyre to that synne. Thys cursed synne anoyeth greuou∣slye hem that it haunte: and fyrst to her soule, for he oblygethe it to synne and to payne of dethe, whyche is perdurable. Vnto the body anoyeth it greuously also, for it dryeth hym and wasteth, and shenteth hym, and of hys bloode he maketh sacryfyce to the fende of hel: It wasteth hys catell and his substaūce. And certes yf it be a foule thynge a man to waste hys catell on women: yet it is a fouler thynge whan that for suche ordure women dispende vpon men her catell and her sub∣staunce. This synne as sayth the Prophete, taketh from man and woman her good fame and her honour, and it is full delectable and pleasaunt to the dyuell. For therby wynneth he the more parte of thys wretched worlde. And ryght as a marchaūt delyteth him most

in that chaffare whiche he hath moste auaun¦tage and profyte of, ryght so delyteth y^e fende in this ordure.

This is that other honde of the dyuel, with fyue fyngers, to catche the people to hys vila¦nye. The fyrste is the folyshe lokynge of the folyshe woman and of the folysshe man, that sleeth ryght as the Basilycock or cokatryce sleeth folke by venym of hys syght: for the co∣uetyse of the eyen foloweth the couetyse of y^e herte. The seconde fyngre is the vilaynous touchynge in wycked maner. And therfore sayth Salomon: that who so toucheth and handleth a woman, he fareth as that man that handleth the scorpyon, whiche styngeth & sodaynly sleeth through his enuenemyng, or as who so that toucheth warme pytche blemysheth hys fyngers. The thyrde is foule wordes, whych fareth lyke fyre, which right anon brenneth the herte. The fourth fynger is the kyssynge: And truely he were a great foole that wolde kysse the mouthe of a bren∣nyng ouen or of a forneys. And more fooles ben they that kysse in vilanye, for that mouth is the mouthe of hell, and namely these olde dotardes holours, which woll kysse and flic∣ker, and besye hem selfe thoughe they maye naught do. Certes they ben lyke to houndes: For an hounde whan he cometh nigh to the rosere, or by other benches, though so be that he maye not pysse, yet woll he heue vp hys legge and make a countenaunce to pysse. And for that manye man weneth that he maye not synne for no lycorousnesse that he dothe wyth hys wyfe. Truely that oppynyon is false: God wote a man maye slee hym selfe wyth hys owne knyfe, and make hym selfe dronke of his owne tonne. Certes be it wife, be it chylde or anye worldly thynge, that he loueth before God, it is hys maumet, and be is an ydolaster. A man shulde loue his wyfe by discrecyon, paciently and attemperatlye, and than is she as though it were his suster. The fyfthe fyngre of the dyuels honde is the stynkynge dede of lecherye. Truely the fyue fyngers of glotonye the dyuell putteth in to the wombe of a man: And wyth his fyue fyn¦gers of lecherye he grypeth hym by y^e reynes for to throwe hym in to the furneys of helle, there as they shal haue the fyre and the wor∣mes that euer shal laste, and wepynge and waylynge, and sharpe hungre and thurste, grymnesse of dyuels, whyche shal al to trede hem withouten ende. Of lecherye as I sayd sourdeth and springeth dyuers speces: As fornycacyon, that is bytwene man and wo∣man which be not maryed and is deedly syn, and ayenst nature: Al that is enemye and di∣struction to nature is ayenst nature. Perfay the reason of a man telleth him wel also that it is deedly synne, for as moche as god for∣bade lecherye. And saynte Poule yeueth hem the reygne that nis dewe to no wyght but to hem that done deedly synne. An other synne of lecherye is to byreue a maydes mayden∣hede, for he that so dothe, certes he casteth a mayden out of the hyest degre that is in thys presente lyfe, and byreueth her that precious frute that the boke calleth the hundred frutes I ne can saye it none other wyse in English, but in Latyn it hight (Centesimus fruct••••••.) Certes he that so dothe is cause of many da∣mages and vilanyes, mo than anye man can reken: ryght as he is cause of many damages somtyme that beestes do in the felde, that breke the hedge or the closure, through which he distroyeth that maye not be restored: For certes no more may mayden hede be restored than an arm that is smytte fro the body ••u••y retourne ayen and were: She maye haue mercy, this wote I wel, yf that she haue wel to do penitence, but neuer shall it be that she nas corrupte. And all be it so y^t I haue spaike somwhat of auoutry, also it is good to shew the perylles that longe to auoutrye, for to es∣chewe that foule synne. Auoutrye in latyn is for to saye, approchynge of an other mannes bedde, throughe whyche those that somtyme were one flesh, abandon her bodyes to other persones. Of thys synne as saythe the wyse man folowe many harmes: Firste breakynge of faythe, and certes in faythe is the keye of christendome: and whan that faythe is broke and loste, sothly christendom stout veyneard without fruite. Thys synne is also theft, for thefte generally is to reue a wight his thyng ayenst hys wyll. Certes thys is the foulest thefte that may be, whan that a womā stea∣leth her body fro her husbonde and yeueth it to her holour to defoyle her, and stealeth her soule fro Christ, and yeueth it to the dyuell: This is a fouler thefte than for to breake a church and steale away the chalyce, for these auouterers breke the temple of god spyrituel¦lye,

and steale the vessell of grace, that is the body and the soule: For whyche Christ shall distroye hem, as sayth saynte Paule. Soth¦lye of thys thefte doubted greatlye Ioseph, whan that hys Lordes wyfe prayed hym of vylanye, whan he sayde: Lo my Ladye howe my Lorde hath take to me vnder my warde, all that he hathe in thys worlde, ne nothynge of hys thynges is out of my po∣wer, but only ye that be his wyfe: and how shulde I than do thys wyckednesse and syn so horrible ayenst God, and ayenst my lorde God it forbede. Alas, all to lytell is suche trouthe nowe founde. The thyrde harme is the fylthe, throughe whyche they breake the commaundemente of God, and defoyle the outer of matrymonye, that is Christe. For certes in so muche as the sacrament of ma∣ryage is so noble and so digne, so muche is it greater synne for to breake it: For God made maryage in Paradyse in the estate of innocencye, to multiply mankynde in the ser¦uice of God, and therfore is the breakynge therof the more greuous, of whiche breking come false heyres ofte time, that wrongful∣lye occupye folkes heritages, and therfore wol Christ put hem out of the reygne of he∣uen, that is herytage to good folke. Of thys breakyng cometh also oft time that folke vn¦ware wedde or synne wyth her owne kyn∣••ed: and namely these harlottes that haunte bordels of these foule women, that maye be ••ekened to a comune gonge, where as men pourge her ordure. what say we also of pu∣tours, that lyue by the horrible synne of pu∣trye, and constreyne women to yeue to hem a certeyne rente of her bodyly putery, yee sō∣tyme of hys owne wyfe or hys chylde, as done these baudes: Certes these bene cursed synnes. Vnderstande also that auoutrie is sette gladlye in the ten commaundementes bytwene thefte and man slaughter, for it is the greatest thrft y^t may be, for it is thefte of bodye and of soule, and it is like to homicide for it kerueth a two and breketh a two hem that fyrst were made of one fleshe. And ther∣fore by the olde lawe of God they shulde be slaine, but nathlesse by y^e law of Iesu Christ that is lawe of pytye, whan he sayde to the woman that was fonde in auoutrye, and shulde haue be slayne wyth stones after the wyll of the Iewes, as was her lawe: Go sayde Iesu Christe, and haue no more wyll to do sinne. Sothly the vengeaunce of auou¦trye is awarded to the paynes of hell, but if so be that it be distourbed by penitence. Yet bene there mo speces of thys cursed synne, as whan that one of hem is relygyouse or elles bothe, or of folke that bene entred in to ordre, as subdeaken, deaken, or Preeste, or hospitaliers. And euer the hyer that he is in ordre, the greater is the synne. The thyn∣ges that greatlye agredge her synne is the breaking of her auow of chastitie whā they receyued the order. And more ouer sothe is that holye order is chefe of all the treasorye of God and hys especial signe and maike of chastite, to shew that they ben ioyned to cha¦stitie, whych is the moost precious life that is: & these ordred folke bene speciallye titled to God and of the special meyne of God, for whyche whan they done deedly synne they bene traytoures of God and of hys people, for they lyue of the people. Preestes ben an∣gels as by dignetie of her misterye, but for∣soth saynt Paule sayth y^t Sathanas trans∣fourmeth hym in an angell of lyght. Soth∣ly the preest that haunteth deedly synne, he maye be lykened to the angell of derkenesse, transfourmed in the aungell of lyght, he se∣meth angel of lyght, but forsoth he is angel of derkenesse. Suche preestes be the sonnes of Helye, as sheweth in the boke of kynges, that they were the sonnes of Beliall, that is the dyuell. Beliall is to saye wythout iudge and so fare they, hem thynketh they be free and haue no iuge, no more than hathe a free bulle that taketh whiche cowe that hym ly∣keth in the towne. So fare they by wemen, for ryght as one free bulle is ynoughe for al a towne, ryghte so is a wycked preeste cor∣ruption ynoughe for all a paryshe, or for all a countre: These preestes, as sayth the boke ne can not ministre the mistery of presthode to the people, ne they knowe not God, they ne helde hem not apayed, as sayth the boke of sodeyne fleshe that was to hem offered, but they toke by force the flesshe that was raw. Certes, so that these shrewes ne helde hem not apayed of rosted and sodde fleshe, with which the people fedde hem in greate reuerence, but they wol haue rawe fleshe of folkes wyues and her doughters, & certes these women y^t cōsente to her harlotry done

great wronge to Christ and to holy church, al halowes, and al soules, for they byreue al these hem that shulde worshyp Christe, and holy churche, and praye for christen soules, and therfore haue such preestes and her lem mans also that consente to her lecherye, the cursing of al the court christen, til they come to amendemente. The thyrde spece of auou∣trye is somtyme betwixt a mā & his wyfe, & that is whan they take no regarde in her as¦semblynge, but only to her fleshly delyte, as sayeth saynt Ierome, & ne reken of nothing but that they ben assēbled bycause they ben maryed, al is good ynough, as they thinke: but in suche folke hath the dyuell power, as sayde the angell Raphaell to Tobye, for in her assemblyng they put Iesu Christ out of her herte, and gyue her selfe to all ordure. The fourthe spece is the assēble of hem that bene of affinitie, or els of hem, wyth which her fathers or her kynred haue dealed in the synne of lecherye: Thys synne maketh hem lyke to houndes, that take no kepe to kynred And certes parentele is in two maners, ey∣ther ghostly or fleshly: gostly as for to deale wyth hys godsyb, for ryght so as he that en¦gendreth a chyld is hys fleshly father: right so is hys God father hys father espirituell: for whyche a woman maye in no lesse synne assemble wyth her godsyb, than wyth her owne fleshly brother. The fifth spece is that abhominable synne, of whyche abhomina∣ble syn no man vnneth ought speke ne write nathlesse it is openly rehersed in holy writ. Thys cursed synne done men and women in diuers entente and in diuers maner: But though that holy writ speke of horrible syn, certes holy writte maye not be defoyled, no more thā the sūne that shyneth on the dong∣hyll. Another synne apertayneth to lecherye that cometh sleping, & this syn cometh often to hem that be maydens, & also to hem that be corrupt, & this syn mē cal Polucion, that commeth of thre maners: Somtime of lan∣guyshyng of body, for the humours bene to ranke & aboundaunt in the body of man, sō∣time of infirmite, for feblenesse of the vertue retentife, as phisike maketh mencion: Som¦time for surfet of meate & drinke, & somtime of vylanous thoughtes that ben enclosed in mannes mynd whā he goeth to slepe which maye not be without synne, for whych men muste kepe hem wyselye, or elles maye men synne full greuously.

¶Remedium contra pecca∣tum luxurie.

NOwe cometh the remedy ayenst lecherye, & y^t is ge∣nerally chastitie and con∣tinence that restrayne all disordinate menynges y^t come of fleshely talentes. And euer the greater me¦ryte shal he haue that moost restreyneth the wycked chaufynges of the ordoure of thys sin, & thys is in two maners: That is to say chastite in mariage & chastite in widowhed Now shalt y^u vnderstande y^e matrimony ••s leful assēblyng of man & woman that ••••••••••∣uen by vertue of thys sacramente, the bonde throughe whyche they maye not be depar∣ted in all her lyfe, that is to saye, while that they lyue both. Thys, as sayeth the boke, is a full greate sacramente, God made it as I haue sayd in paradyse, and wolde hym selfe be borne in mariage: and for to halowe ma∣ryage he was at a weddynge, where as he turned water in to wyne, whyche was the fyrste miracle that he wrought in earthe be∣fore hys disciples. Trew effecte of mariage clenseth fornication and replenysheth holye churche of good lynage, for that is the ende of mariage, and chaungeth deedly synne in to venyal sinne, bitwene hem that ben wed∣ded, & maketh the hertes as one of hem that bene wedded, as well as the bodyes.

Very mariage was established by god er that syn began, whan naturall law was in his ryght poynt in Paradise. And it was ordayned that o man shulde haue but a wo∣man, and o womā but o man, as saith saint Augustyne, by many reasons.

Fyrste for mariage is figured betwixt Christ and holy churche.

Another is for a man is head of a wo∣mā alway by ordinaunce it shuld be so. For yf a womā had mo men thā one, than shuld she haue mo heedes thā one, and that were a ryght horrible synne before God, and also a woman myght not please so manye folke at ones: and also there shuld neuer be rest ne quiete amonge hem, for eche of hem wolde

aske her owne ryght. And furthermore, no man shulde know hys owne engendrure, ne who shulde haue hys heritage, and the wo∣man shulde be the lesse beloued.

Now cometh how that a man shulde bere hym wyth hys wyfe, & namely in two thynges: that is to saye, in sufferaunce and reuerence, as shewed Christ whan he fyrste made womā. For he ne made her of y^e heade of Adam, for she shulde not claym to greate lordshyp, for there as the woman hathe the maystrye, she maketh to muche variaunce, there nede no mo ensamples of thys, the ex∣perience al daye, ought ynough suffice.

Also certes, God ne made not woman of the fote of Adam, for she shuld not behold to lowe, for she can not paciently suffre: but God made woman of the rybbe of Adam, for woman shulde be felowe vnto man.

Man shulde beare hym to hys wyfe in fayth▪ in trouth, and in loue (as sayth saynt Paule that a man shulde loue hys wyfe, as Christ loueth holye churche, that loued it so well that he dyed for it: so shulde a man for hys wyfe, yf it were nede.

Nowe howe that a woman shulde be subiecte to her husbande: that telleth saynte Peter, fyrst in obedience. And also as sayth the decree: A womā that is a wyfe, as long as she is a wyfe she hath none auctoritye to swere ne beare witnes without leaue of her husbande y^t is her Lorde, alwaye he shulde be so by reason. She shulde also serue hym in al honestye & be attēpperate of her array.

I woll well that they shulde set her en¦tent to please her husbādes but not be quein¦tise of her araye. S. Ierom sayeth: wiues y^t be apparelled in sylke and precious purple, ne mowe nat clothe hem in Iesu Christe. Saynt Greg. sayeth also: that no wyghte seketh precious aray, but only for vaynglo∣ry to be honoured the more of the people. It is great foly a woman to haue great araye, outwarde, and in her selfe be foule inwarde A wyfe shulde also be mesurable in lokynge in bearyng, and in laughing, and discrete in al her wordes and her dedes, and aboue all worldelye thynges she shulde loue her hus∣bande wyth al her herte, and to hym be true of her bodye: So shulde an husbande be to hys wyfe: For sythe that all the body is the husbandes, so shuld her hert be, or els there is betwixte hem two, as in that no perfyte mariage. Than shall men vnderstande that for thre thynges a man and hys wyfe flesh∣ly may assemble. The first is for thentent of engendrure of chyldren to the seruice of god for certes that is the cause finall of matri∣mony. Another cause is to yelde ech of hem to other y^e dettes of her bodyes, for neyther of hem hath power of ther owne bodyes. The thyrde is to eschew lechery and vylla∣nye. The fourthe is forsoth deedlye synne. As to the fyrste is meritorye: the seconde al∣so, for as sayeth the decre, that she hath me∣ryte of chastite that yeldeth to her husbande the dette of her body, yee thought it be ayenst her lykynge and the luste of her herte. The thyrde maner is venyall synne, and truelye scarscely may anye of these be wythout ve∣nyal synne for the corruption and for the de∣lyte. The fourth maner is for to vnderstand if they assemble only for amorous loue, and for none of the forsayde causes, but for to ac¦complyshe the brennynge delyte, they recke not howe ofte, sothlye it is deedly sinne: and y^t wyth sorowe some folke woll payne hem more to do then to her appetyte suffiseth.

The seconde maner of chastitye is for to be a clene wydowe and eschew the enbra¦synges of a man, and desyre the enbrasynge of Iesu Christe: These bene those that haue bene wyues, and haue forgote her husban∣des, and also women that haue done leche∣rye, and bene receyued by penitence. And cer¦tes yf that a wyfe coulde kepe her all chaste by licence of her husbande, so that she yeue neuer none occasion that he offende, it were to her a greate meryte. Thys maner of wo∣man that obserueth chastitie in clothynge & in countenaunce, abstinent in eatinge & drin¦kyng, in spekyng and in dede, she is the ves∣sel or the boxe of the blessed Maudelayne y^e fulfylleth holy church of good ordour. The thyrde maner of chastitie is virginitie, and it behoueth that she be holye in herte, & clene of body, than is she spouse of Iesu Christe, and she is the life of aungels: she is the pray synge of thys worlde, & she is as these mar∣tyrs in regaly: she hath in her y^t tonge maye not tell ne herte thynke. Virginitie bare our Lorde Iesu Christe, and virgyn was hym selfe.

Another remedy ayenst lechery is speci∣allye

to withdrawe suche thynges as yeue occasyon to that vylanye: as ease, eatynge, and drinkyng: For certes whan the potte bo¦ylleth stronglye, the best remedy is to wyth draw the fyre. Slepyng longe in great qui∣ete is also a great nouryce to lecherye.

Another remedy ayenst lechery is that a man or a woman eschew the company of hem by whiche he douteth to be tēpted: For all be it so that the dede is withstande, yet is there great temptation. Sothly a whyte walle, all thoughe it ne brenne not fullye by stickyng of the candell, yet is the wal blacke of the flame. Ful oft tyme I rede that no mā trust in hys owne perfection, but he be stron¦ger than Sampson, or holyer than Daniel or wyser than Salomon.

Nowe after that I haue declared you as I can, the seuyn deedly sinnes, and some of her braūches, wyth her remedies: Soth¦ly yf I coulde, I wolde tel you the ten com∣maundementes, but so hye doctrine I put to diuines. Nathlesse I hope to God they ben touched in this treatise eche of hem.

¶Sequitur secunda pars penitentie.

NOwe for asmuche as the seconde parte of penitence stont in confes∣sion of mouth, as I be gan in the fyrste chap, I saye saynte Austen sayeth.

Sinne is euery worde and euery dede and all that men coniecte agaynst the lawe of Iesu Christe, and thys is for to synne in hert, in mouth, and in dede, by the fyne wyt∣tes, which ben syght, hearyng, smellyng, ta∣styng or sauour, & felynge. Nowe it is good to vnderstande, that that agredgeth muche euery sinne. Thou shalt consider what thou art that doste the syn, whether thou be male or female, yonge or olde, gentyll or thrall, free or seruaunt, hole or sicke, wedded or sin∣gle, ordred or vnordred, wyse or fole, clerke or seculer, yf she be of thy kynrede bodilye or gostly, or no, yf any of thy kynred haue syn∣ned wyth her or no, & many mo thynges. A∣nother circumstaunce is this, whether it be done in fornicacion or in aduoutry or no, in maner of homiced or no, horrible great syn∣nes or smal, & how long thou hast cōtinued in synne. The thyrde circumstaunce is the place there thou hast done synne, wheder in other mennes houses or in thyne owne, in felde, in church or in churchyarde, in church dedecate or no. For yf the churche be halo∣wed & man or woman spyl his kinde, with∣in that place by way of sinne or wicked tēp∣tation, the churche is enterdited, & the preest that dyd such a villany, the terme of all hys life he shulde no more synge masse, and if he did, he shulde do deedly synne at euery tyme y^t he so songe masse. The fourth circūstaūce is by which mediatours or by which messē¦gers, or for enticement, or for cōsentment to beare cōpany with felowshyp. For manye a wretche for to beare cōpanye, wol go to the dyuel of heel: wherfore they that egge or cō∣sent to the sinne, ben parteners of the sinne, & of the temptation of the synner. The fyfth circumstaunce is howe many times that he hath synned, if it be in his minde, & how oft he hath fallen. For he that oft falleth in syn, he dispiceth the mercy of God and encreseth his sinne, & is vnkynde to Christ, & he we••¦eth the more feble to withstande syn, a syn¦neth the more lyghtly & the later ryseth, & is more slow to shriue him; & namely to him y^t is his cōfessour. For whiche that folke whā they fal ayen to her olde folyes, eyther they leaue theyr olde cōfessour, or els they depart her shrift in diuers partes. But sothly suche departed shrifte deserueth no mercy of God for her synnes. The sixte circumstaunce is, why that a man sinneth as by temptation: & if him selfe procure that temptation, or by the excitinge of other folke, or if he syn wyth a woman by force or by her assente, or yf the woman maugre her heede haue be a forced or none. This shall she tell, whether it were for couetise or pouertye, or yf it were by her procurement or no, and such other thinges. The seuenth circumstaunce is, in what ma¦ner he hathe do hys synne, or howe that she hathe suffred that folke haue do to her. And the same shall the man tell playnly wyth all the circumstaunces, and whether he hathe synned wyth cōmen bordel woman or none or done hys synne in holye tymes or none, in fasting time or none, or before hys shrifte or after hys later shryfte, and hath parauen¦ture broke therby his penaunce enioyned by whose helpe or whose counsayle, by soce••••e

or crafte, all muste be tolde, & all these thyn∣ges after as they be gret or smale, & grudge the conscience of man or womā. And eke the preest that is thy iuge, maye the better be a∣uysed of his iugement in yeuyng of penaūce and that is after thy contrition. For vnder∣stande wel that after tyme that a man hath defoyled hys baptyme by synne, yf he woll come to saluation there is none other waye but by penaunce, shryfte, and satisfaction, & namely by the two, yf there be a confessoure to whom he may shriue him, and the thyrde yf he haue lyfe to perfourme it. Than shall a man loke and consider, that yf he wol make a trewe & a profitable confession, there must be foure conditions.

Fyrst it must be in sorowfulnesse of hert as sayth the kynge Ezechiel to God, I wol remēbre me al the yeres of my lyfe in bitter∣nesse of my hert. This cōdition of bytternes hath fyue signes: The fyrst is that confessi∣on muste be shamefaste, not for to couer ne hide her sin for he hath offēded his lord god & defoyled his soule. And herof sayth saynte Augustyn: The herte traueyleth for shame of his sinne, & for he hath greate shamefast∣nes he is worthy to haue gret mercy of god which was the cōfession of the Publicaue, that wolde not heaue vp hys eyen to heuen for he had offended god of heuen, for which shamfastnesse he had anone y^e mercy of god. And therof sayeth saynt Augustyn: y^t suche shameful folke be next foryeuenesse & mercy.

Another signe is humilite in cōfession, of which sayth saynt Peter▪ Humbleth you vnder the might of god: y^e hande of God is strong in cōfession, for therby god foryeueth the thy sinnes, for he alone hath the power And this humilite shalbe in hert, and in out¦warde signes: For righte as he hath humi∣litie to God in his herte, ryghte so shulde he humble his bodye outwarde to the preest, y^t sytteth in goddes stede. For which in no ma¦ner, syth that Christe is souerayne, and the Preeste meane and mediatoure betwixte Christe, and the synner is laste by waye of reason. Than shulde nat the synner sytte as hye as his cōfessour but knele before him or at his fete, but yf syckenesse cause it: For he shal not take hede who sytteth there, but in whose place he sytteth. A man that hath trespassed to a Lorde & cometh to aske mer∣cye and make hys accorde, and sytteth hym downe by hym, men wolde holde hym out∣ragious and nat worthy so sone for to haue remission of hys trespace.

The thyrde signe is, howe thy shryfte shulde be full of teares yf thou maye, and yf thou maye nat wepe wyth thy bodily eyen, than wepe in thyne herte, whyche was the confession of saynte Peter. For after that he had forsake Iesu Christe, he wente out and wepte full bitterly.

The fourth signe is, that thou ne lette nat for shame to shewe thy cōfession: Such was the confession of Magdaleyn, that ne spared for no shame of hem that were at the feest, to go to oure Lorde Iesu Christe, and beknowe to hym her synnes. The fyfth signe is, that a man or a woman be obey∣saunte to receyue the penaunce that hem is enioyned. For certes Iesu Christe, for the offences of man was obedient to deth. The seconde condition of very confession is, that it be hastely done. For certes, yf a man had a deedly wounde, euer the lenger that he ta∣ryeth to heale hym selfe, the more wolde it corrupte and haste hym to hys deathe, and also the wounde wolde be the worse for to heale. And ryghte so fare the synne, that longe tyme is in a man vnshewed. Certes a man ought hastelye shewe hys synnes for manye causes, as for drede of deathe, that commeth ofte sodaynlye, and no certayne what tyme it shall be, ne in what place, and also the drenchyng of o synne draweth in a∣nother: and also the lenger that he taryeth the farther he is fro Christe. And if he abide to hys last day, scarscely may he shriue hym or remembre hym of hys synnes, or repente for the greuous maladye of hys death. And for as muche as he ne hathe in hys lyfe her∣kened Iesu Christe whan he hath spoken, he shall crye to Iesu Christe at hys last day and scarscely woll he herken hym. And vn∣derstande that thys condition muste haue foure thynges.

Thy shryfte must be prouided before & auysed, for wycked hast doth no profyte, yf a mā shriue him of hys synnes, be it of pride or enuye, and so forthe wyth the speces and circumstaunces of synne. And that he haue cōprehended in hys mynde the nombre and greatnesse of hys synnes, and howe longe

he hathe lyen in syn. And also that he hathe be contrite for hys synnes, and in stedfaste purpose (by the grace of God) neuer ayen to fal to synne. And also that he drede & coun∣terwayte hym selfe that he flye the occasion of synne, to whych he is enclined. Also thou shalt shryue the of al thy synnes to a man, & not part to o man and part to another, that is to vnderstande, in entent to depart thy cō¦fession for shame or drede, for it is but stran∣glynge of thy soule. For certes Iesu Christe is entierly al good, in hym nys none imper∣fection, and therfore eyther he foryeueth all perfeitely, or els neuer a deale. I saye nat y^t yf thou be assigned to thy penytencer for cer∣tayne synne that thou arte bounde to shewe hym all y^e remenant of thy synnes, of which thou haste bē shryuen of thy curate, but yf it lyke to the of thy humilite, thys is no parte of thy shrift. Ne I say nat there as I speke of diuision of cōfession, that yf thou haue li∣cence to shryue the to a discrete & an honeste preeste where the lyketh, & by lycence of thy curate, that thou ne mayest well shryue the to him of al thy synnes. Let no synne be vn∣tolde as farre as thou hast remembraunce. And whan thou shalt be shryuen to thy cu∣rate, tell hym all thy synnes that thou haste do syth thou wast laste shriuen. Thys is no wycked entent of diuision of shrift.

Also the very shrift asketh certayne cō∣dicions. Fyrst that thou shriue the by thy fre wyl, nat constrayned for shame of folke, sic∣kenesse, ne such other thynges. For it is rea∣son, that he that trespaceth by his free wyll that by his free wyl he confesse his trespace and that none other man tell hys synne but him selfe, ne he shal nat nay ne deny his sin, ne wrath him ayenst the preest for amonys∣shyng him to leaue hys synne. The seconde condition is, that thy shryfte be laufull, that is to say, that thou shriuest the. And also the preest that hereth thy confession be veryly in fayth of holy churche, and that a man ne be not dispeyred of the mercy of Iesu Christe, as Caym or Iudas. And also a man muste accuse him self of his owne trespace & not a¦nother, but he shall blame & wyte hym selfe and his owne malice of his synne, and none other: But nathelesse if that another man be occasion or entycer of hys syn, or the estate of a person be such by which his synne is a∣gredged, or els y^t he may not playnly shryue him but he tel the personne wyth whiche he hath synned, than may he tell, so that his en¦tent ne be not to backbyte the person, but on¦ly to declare hys confession. Thou ne shalte not also make no leasynges in thy confessiō for humilitie, parauenture to say that thou hast commised and done suche synnes as of whyche that thou ne were neuer gyltye. For saint Augustyn sayeth, yf that thou bicause of thyne humilitye makest leasynges of thy selfe, though thou were not in sinne before, yet arte thou than in synne through thy lea∣synge. Thou muste also shewe thy synne by thyne owne proper mouthe, but thou be dombe & not by no letter▪ For thou that hast done the synne, shalte haue the shame ther∣fore. Thou shalt not eke paynt thy cōfession by fayre subtell wordes, to couer the more thy synne: for than begylest thou thy selfe & nat the preest, thou muste tell it playne, be it neuer so foule ne horrible. Thou shalte also shryue the to a preest, that is discrete to coū∣sayle the, and also thou shalte nat shriue the for vaynglorye, ne for ypocrisye, ne for no cause but only for the loue and feare of Iesu Christ, and heale of thy soule. Thou shalte not also ren to the preest sodainly to tel him lightly thy sinne, as who sayth, to tel a tape or a tale, but auysedly and with good deuo∣tion: And generally shryue the ofte yf thou ofte fal ofte aryse by confession. And though thou shriue the ofter than ones of the synne which thou hast be shriuen of, it is the more merite. And as sayth saynt Augustyn, thou shalt haue the more lyghtly foryeuenes and grace of God, both of sinne and payne. And certes ones a yere at leest, it is laufull to be houseled, for surely ones a yere all thynges renouellen.

Nowe haue I tolde you of very cōfes∣sion, that is the seconde parte of penitence.

¶Explicit secunda pars penitentie: Et sequitur tertia pars.

THe thyrde part of penitence is satisfaction, & that stant moste generallye in almesse dedes & bodily payne. Now ben there thre maner of almes. Cōtritiō of hert, where a mā offreth him self to god.

An other is, to haue pytie of default of his neyghbour. And the thyrde is in gyuyng of good counsayle, goostly and bodily wheras men haue nede, and namely in sustenance of mans fode. And take kepe y^t a mā hath nede of these thynges generallye, he hath nede of fode of clothing, & of herbrow: He hath nede of charitable counsayle, visityng in prison in sickenesse, and sepulture of his body. And if thou mayst nat visite the nedeful in thy per∣sone, visite them with thy message & yeftes. These been generally the almesse & workes of charite, of hem that haue temporal riches or discretion in counsaylyng. Of these wor∣kes shalte thou here at the daye of dome. These almesses shalt thou do of thyn owne proper thynges, & hastesy & priuely if thou mayst: But nathelesse, if thou mayst nat do it priuely, thou shalte nat forbeare to do al∣messe though mē se it, so that it be nat do for thanke of the worlde, but only for thanke of Iesu christ. For as witnesseth saynt Mathu Cap. v. A cyte maye nat be hydde that is set on a mountayne, ne men lyght nat a lantern to putte it vnder abusshel but sette it vpon a candelsticke to yeue light to men in y^e house.

Right so shul your lyght, light before men that they maye se your good workes, & glo∣rify our father that is in heuen.

Now as to speake of bodely payne, it stont in prayers, wakyng, fastyng, vertuous tea∣chyng of orisons. And ye shal vnderstonde, that orisons or prayers is to saye a pitious wyll of herte, that setteth it in God, and ex∣presseth by worde outwarde to remeue har∣mes, and to haue thynges spiritual and du∣rable, and somtyme temporall thynges. Of which orisons, certes in the oryson of the pa¦ter noster: hath Iesu Chryst enclosed moost thynges. Certes it is priuileged of thre thin¦ges in his dignitie, for whyche it is more digne than anye other prayer, for that Iesu Chryst hym selfe made it, and it is short, for it shuld be lerned y^t more lyghtly, & to holde it the more easye in hert, and helpe hym selfe the ofter with that orison: And for a manne shulde be the lesse werye to saye it, & not ex∣cuse hym to lerne it, it is so shorte and easye: and for it comprehendeth in it selfe all good prayers. The exposition of this holy prayer that is so excellent and digne, I refere to the masters of theology, saue thus moche woll I saye, that whan thou prayest, that God shoulde foryeue the thyne offences, as thou foryeuest them that haue offended the. Be well ware that thou be not oute of charitye. This holy orison aminisheth also venial syn and therfore it appertayneth specyallye to penitence.

This prayer must be truly sayd and in par∣fyte fayth, and that men praye to God ordi∣natly, discretly, and deuoutly, and alwaye a man shall put his wyll to be subiecte to the wyll of God. This oryson muste also be sayd with great humblenesse and full pure & honestlye, and not to the auoyaunce of anye man or woman: It muste also be continued with the workes of charitie. It auayleth al¦so ayenst the vices of the soule: For as saith saynct Ierome: By fastyng ben saued the vi¦ces of the flesshe, and by prayer the vyces of the soule.

After this thou shalt vnderstond, that bo¦dily prayer stont in waking. For Iesu christ sayth: wake ye and praye, that ye ne entre in to wycked temptation. Ye shul vnderstonde also, that fastyng stont in thre thynges: In forberyng of bodily mete and drinke, in for∣bering of wordly iolitie, and in forberynge of deedly syn: this is to say: that a man shall kepe hym fro deedly syn with all his myght

And thou shalt vnderstond also, that god ordayned fastynge, and to fastynge pertay∣neth four thynges. Largenesse to pore folke gladnesse of hert spiritual: not to be angrye ne anoyed, ne grutche for he fasteth and also resonable hour to eat by measure, that is to saye, a man shall not eate in vntyme, ne syt the lenger at the table, for he fasteth.

Than shalt thou vnderstonde, that bodi∣ly payne stont in disciplyne or teachynge by worde or wrytynge, or by example. Also in wearynge of heer or stamyn or of harbergi∣ons on her naked flesshe for Chrystes sake, and that suche maner penaunces, ne make nat thyne hert bytter or angrye, ne anoyed of thy selfe, for better is to cast awaye thyne heere, than to cast away the swetnesse of Ie¦su Chryst. And therfore sayth saynct Poule: Clothe you, as they that ben chosen of God in hert of misericorde, debonartie, suffraūce and suche maner of clothyng, of which Ie∣su Chryste is more pleased, than with hee∣res or habergions.

Than is disciplyne also, in knockynge of thy brest, in scourgyng with roddes, in kne∣lyng, in tribulation, in suffrynge pacientlye wronges that ben do to the, & also in paciēt suffrynge of sycknesse, or lesyng of worldlye goodes or cattel, or wyfe, chylde, or other frendes.

Than shalt thou vnderstande which thin¦ges distourbe penaunce, and that is in foure maners, drede, shame, hope, and wanhope, that is desperation: And for to speake fyrste of drede for whiche he weneth that he maye suffre no penaunce. There ayenst is remedy for to thynke that bodilye penaunce is but shorte and lytle, at regarde of the payne of hell that is so cruell and so longe, that it la∣steth without ende.

Nowe ayenst the shame that a man hath to shryue hym, and namely these ypocrytes that wold be hold so perfyte, that they haue no nede to shryue hem. Ayenste that shame shulde a man thynke that by way of reason, that he that hath not be ashamed to do foul thynges: certes hym ought not be ashamed for to do fayre thynges, and that is cōfessy∣ons. A man shuld also thinke that god seeth and knoweth all his thoughtes and all hys werkes: To hym may nothyng be hyd ne co¦uered. Men shoulde also remembre hem of the shame that is to com at the day of dome to hem that ben not penitent and shryuen in this present lyfe. For all the creatures in erth and in hell shall se apertly, all that they hydde in this present worlde. Nowe for to speake of the hope of hem that bene so negli∣gent and slow to shryue them: that stondeth in two maners. That one is, that he hopeth for to lyue longe, and for to purchace moche rychesse for his delyte, and thā he wol shriue hym: And as he sayeth, hym semeth than tymely ynough to come to shryft.

An other is of surquidrie that he hath in christes mercy. Ayenst the fyrst vyce he shal thynke that our lyfe is in no sykerneke, and also that all the rychesses in this world ben in aduenture, and passe as a shadowe on the wall: And as sayth saynct Gregorye, that it appertayneth to the great ryghteousnesse of god, that neuer shal the payne stynte of hem that neuer wold withdrawe hem fro synne her thankes, but euer continued in synne: for that perpetuall wyll to do synne, shall they haue perpetuall payne. wanhope is in two maners. The fyrst wanhope is in the mercy of god. That other is that they thynke that they ne myght not longe perseuer in good∣nesse. The fyrste wanhope commeth of that he demeth that he hath synned so greatlye & so oft and so longe lyen in synne, that he shal not be saued. Certes agaynst that cursed wā¦hope shuld he thynke that the passion of Ie∣su Chryste is more stronge for to vnbynde, than synne is stronge for to bynde. Ayenste the seconde wanhope he shal thynke that as often as he falleth he maye ryse agayne by penitence: and though he neuer so long hath lyen in synne, the mercy of Chryst is alway redy to receyue hym to mercye. Ayenste the wanhope that he deemeth, he shoulde not longe perseuer in goodnesse, he shall thynke, that the feblenesse of the deuyl may nothyng do but yf men woll suffre hym, and also he shall haue strēgth of the helpe of Iesu christ and of all holye churche, and the protection of angels yf hym lyst.

Than shal men vnderstande what is the fruyte of penaunce, and after the wordes of Iesu Chryst, it is endlesse blesse of heauen. There ioye hath neuer ende, no contrariety of wo ne greuaunce: ther al harmes ben pas¦sed of this presēt lyfe, there as is y^e sykernes fro the payne of hell, there as is the blysfull company that reioyse hem euermo, eueriche of others ioye: ther as the body of man, that somtyme was foule and dark, is more clere than the sunne: there as the body that som∣tyme was sycke, freyle, and feble, and mor∣tall, is immortall, and so stronge and hol••, that there ne maye nothyng appeyre it: ther as is neyther hungre, thurst ne colde, but eue¦ry soule replenysshed with the syght of the perfyte knowynge of God. This blysfull reygne may men purchace by pouertie espi∣rituel, and the glory by lownesse, the plentie of ioye by hungre and thurst, and the rest by trauayle, and the lyf by deth and mortifica∣tion of syn: to whiche lyfe he vs bryng that bought vs with his pecious bloude. AMEN.

¶Here endeth the persons tale.

¶Here begynneth the Plow∣mans Prologue.

THe Ploweman plucked vp his plowe. whan mydsommer mone was comen in And sayd his b••estes shuld rate ynowe And lyge in the grasse vp to the chynne They ben feble both oxe and cowe Of hem nys left but bone and skynne He shoke of snare and cultre of drowe And honge his harneys on a py••••e.

¶He toke his tabarde and his staffe eke And on his heed he set his hat And sayde he wolde saynt Thomas seke On pylgremage he goth forth platte In scrippe he bare both breed and lekes He was forswonke and all forswatte Men might haue sene through both his che¦kes And euery wang toth and where it sat

¶Our hoste behelde wele all about And sawe this man was sunne ybrent He knewe well by his senged shoute And by his clothes that were to rent He was a man wont to walke about He nas nat alway in cloystre ypent He coulde not religiouslyche loute And therfore was he fully shent.

¶Our host him axed, what man art thou? Syr (quod he) I am an hyne For I am wont to go to the plowe And erne my meate yer that I dyne To swete and swynke I make auowe My wyfe and chyldren therwith to fynde And serue God and I wyst howe But we leude men bene full blynde.

¶For clerkes saye we shullen be fayne For her lyuelod swet and swynke And they ryght nought vs gyue agayne Neyther to eate ne yet to drinke The mowe by lawe, as they sayne Vs curse and dampne to hell brynke Thus they putten vs to payne with candles queynt and belles clynke.

¶They make vs thralles at her lust And sayne we mowe nat els be saued They haue the corne and we the dust who speaketh ther agayn they say he raued ¶what man {quod} our host, canst thou preache Come nere and tell vs some holy thynge ¶Syr quod he, I herde ons teache A prest in pulpyt a good preachynge

¶Saye on quod our host, I the beseche. Syr I am redy at your byddyng I praye you that noman me reproche whyle that I am my tale tellynge.

❀Thus endeth the prologue, and here foloweth the fyrst parte of the tale.

[illustration]

A Sterne stryfe is ste∣red newe In many stedes in a stounde Of sōdry sedes that bene sewe It semeth that som ben vnsounde For some be great growen vngrounde Some ben soule, symple and small whether of hem is falser sounde The falser foule mote hym befall

¶That one syde is that I of tell Popes, cardynals and prelates Parsons, monkes, and freers fell Priours, abbottes of great estates Of heuyn and hell they kepe the yates And Peters successours they ben all This is demed by olde dates But falshed foule mought it befall

¶The other syde ben poore and pale And people put out of prease And seme caytyffes sore & cale And euer in one without encrease I clepeth iollers and loudlese who toteth on hem they bene vntall They ben arayed all for the peace But falsshed foule mote it befall.

¶Many a countrey haue I sought To knowe the falser of these two But euer my trauayle was for nought All so ferre as I haue go But as I wandred in a wro In a wodde besyde a wall Two foules sawe I sytte tho The falser foul mote hym befall.

¶That one dyd plede on the Popes syde A gryffon of a grymme stature A Pellycane withouten pryde To these lollers layde his lure He mused his matter in measure To counsayle Chryst euer gan he call The gryffon shewed as sharpe as fyre But falshed foule mote it befall.

¶The Pellycan began to preache Both of mercy and of mekenesse And sayd that Chryst so gan vs teache And meke and mercyable gan blesse The Euangely beareth wytnesse A lambe he lykeneth Christ ouer all In tokenynge that he mekest was Sith pryde was out of heuen fall.

¶And so shulde euery Christned be Preestes, Peters successours Beth lowlyche and of lowe degree. And vsen none erthly honours

Neyther crowne, ne curious couetours Ne pylloure, ne other proude pall Ne nought to cofren vp great treasours For falshed foule mote it befall

¶Preests shulde for no cattel plede. But chasten hem in charite Ne to no bateyle shulde men lede For inhaunsyng of her owne degree Nat wylne syttynges in hye see Ne souerayntie in house ne hall All worldly worshippe defye and flee For who so wylleth highnes foule shall fall

¶Alas who may suche sayntes call That wylneth welde erthlye honour As lowe as Lucifere suche shall fall In baleful blacknesse ybuylden her boure That eggeth the people to errour And maketh them to hem thrall To Chryst I holde suche one traytour As lowe as Lucifer suche one shall fall.

¶That wylleth to be kynges peeres And hygher than the Emperour Some that were but poore freers Nowe wollen waxe a warryour God is nat her gouernour. That holdeth noman his permagall whyle couetyse is her counsaylour All suche falshed mote nede fall.

¶That hye on horse wylleth ryde In glytterande golde of great araye I paynted and portred all in pryde No cōmen knyght maye go so gaye Chaunge of clothyng euery daye with golden gyrdles great and small As boystous as is bere at baye All suche falshed mote nede fall.

¶with pryde punyshed the poore And some they sustayne with sale Of holy churche maketh an hore And fylleth her wombe with wyne and ale with money fylleth many a male And chaffren churches when they fall And telleth the people a leude tale Suche false faytours foule them befall.

¶with chaunge of many maner meates with songe and solace syttynge longe And fylleth her wombe, and fast fretes And from the meate to the gonge And after meat with harpe and songe And eche man mote hem lordes call And hote spyces euer amonge Suche false faytours foule hem fall

¶And myters mo than one or two I perled as the quenes heed A staffe of golde, and pyrrey lo As heuy as it were made of lead with cloth of golde both newe and redde with glytterande golde as grene as gall By dome wyll dampne men to deed All suche faytours foule hem fall.

¶And Chrystes people proudly curse with brode bokes, and braying bell To putte pennyes in her purse They woll sell both heuen and hel And in her sentence and thou wylt dwell They wyllen gesse in her gaye hall And though the soth thou of hem tell In great cursynge shalt thou fall.

¶That is blessed, that they blesse And cursed that they curse woll And thus the people they oppresse And haue theyr lordshyppes at full And many be marchauntes of woll And to purse penyes woll come thrall The poore people they all to pull Suche false faytours foule hem fall

¶Lordes mote to hem loute Obeysaunt to her brode blessyng They ryden with her royall route On a courser, as it were a kynge with saddle of golde glyttryng with curyous harneys quayntly crallyt Styroppes gaye of golde mastlyng All suche falshed foule befall it.

¶Chrystes minysters clepen they bene And rulen all in robberye But Antichrist they seruen clene Attyred all in tyrannye wytnesse of Iohns prophecye That Antichriste is her admirall Tyffelers attyred in trecherye All suche faytours foule hem fall. ¶who sayth that some of hem may synne

He shalbe done to be deed Some of hem woll gladly wynne All ayenst that whiche god forbed All holyest they clepen her heed That of her rule is regall Alas that euer they eten breed For all suche falshed woll foule fall

¶Her heed loueth all honour And to be worshypped in worde and dede Kynges mote to hem knele and coure To the Apostles, that chryst forbede To Popes hestes suche taketh more hede Than to kepe Chrystes cōmaundement Of gold and syluer mote ben her wede They holdeth hym hole omnipotent

¶He ordayneth by his ordynaunce To parysh preestes a powere To another a greater auaunce A greater poynt to his mystere But for he is hyghest in erth here To hym reserueth he many a poynt But to Chryst that hath no pere Reserueth he neyther opyn ne ioynt

¶So semeth he aboue all And Chryst abouen hym nothyng whan he sytteth in his stall Dampneth and saueth as hym thynke Suche pryde tofore god doth stynke An Angell bad Iohn to hym nat knele But only to god do his bowynge Such wyllers of worship must nede euyll fele.

¶They ne clepen Chryst, but s••tūs deus And clepen her heed Sanctissimus They that suche a sect sewys I trowe they taken hem amysse In erth here they haue her blysse Her hye master is Belyal Chrystes people from hem wysse For all suche false wyll foule tall.

¶They mowe both bynde and lose And all is for her holy lyfe To saue or dampne they mowe those Betwene hem now is great stryfe Many a man is kylled with a knyfe To wete which of hem haue lordshyp shall For suche Chryst suffred woundes fyue For all suche falshed wyll foule fall.

¶Chryst sayd: Qui gladio percutit with swerde shall dye He bad his preestes peace and gryth And bade hem not drede for to dye And bad them be both symple and slye And carke not for no cattall And trusteth on god that sytteth on hye For all false shull foule fall.

¶These wollen make men to swere Ayenst Chrystes cōmaundement And Chrystes membres all to tere On roode, as he wer newe yrent Suche lawes they make by cōmen assent Echeon it choweth as a ball Thus the poore be fully shent But euer falshed foule it befall.

¶They vsen no symonye But sellen churches and prioryes Ne they vsen no enuye But cursen all hem contraryes And hyreth men by dayes and yeres with strength to holde hem in her stall And culleth all her aduersaryes Therfore falshed foule thou fall

¶with purse they purchase personage with purse they paynen hem to plede And men of warre they woll wage To brynge her enemyes to the dede And lordes lyues they woll lede And moche take, and gyue but small But he it so get, from it shall shede And make suche false ryght foule fal

¶They halowe nothyng but for hyre Churche, font, ne vestement And make orders in euery shyre But preestes paye for the parchement Of ryatours they taken rent Therwith they smere the shyppes skall For many churches ben ofte suspent All suche falshed yet foule it fall.

Some lyueth nat in lecherye But haunten wenches, widdowes & wyues And punysheth the poore for putrye Them selfe it vseth all theyr lyues And but a man to them shryues To heuen come neuer he shall He shalbe cursed as be caytyues

To hell they sayne that he shall fall

¶There was more mercy in Maximyen And in Nero, that neuer was good Than is nowe in some of them whan he hath on his furred hoode They folowe Christ that shedde his blode To heuen, as buckette in to the wall Suche wreches ben worse than wode And all suche faytours foule hem fall

¶They gyue her almesse to the ryche To maynteynours, and to men of lawe For to lordes they woll be lyche An harlottes sonne nat worthe an hawe Sothfastnesse suche han slawe They kembe her crokettes with christall And drede of god they haue downe drawe All suche faytours foule hem fall

¶They maken parsons for the penny And canons of her cardynals Vnnethes amongest hem all any That he ne hath glosed the gospell fals For Christ made neuer no cathedrals Ne wyth hym was no cardynall wyth a Redde hatte as vsyn mynstrals But falshed foule mote it befall

¶Theyr tythyng, and her offryng both They clemeth it by possessyon Therof nyll they none forgo But robben men as raunsome The tythyng of Turpe lucrum with these maisters is meynall Tythyng of bribry, and larson wyll make falshed full foule to fall

¶They taken to ferme her sompnours To harme the people what they may To pardoners, and false faytours Sell her seales I dare well say And all to holden great array To multiply hem more metall They drede full lytell domes day whan all suche shall foule fall

¶Suche harlottes shull men dysclaunder For they shullen make her gree And ben as proude as Alexaunder And sayne to the poore, wo be ye By yere eche preeste shall paye hys fee To encrease hys lemmans call Suche heerdes shull well yuell the And all suche false shull foule fall

¶And yf a man be falsely famed And wolde make purgacioun Than woll the offycers be agramed And assigne hym fro towne to towne So nede he must paye raunsome Though he be clene, as is christall And than haue an absolutioun But all suche false shull foule fall

¶Though he be gyltie of the dede And that he maye money pay All the whyle his purse woll blede He maye vse it fro day to day These byshoppes offycers gone full gay And thys game they vsen ouer all The poore to pyll is all theyr pray All suche false shull foule fall

¶Alas, god ordayned neuer suche lawe Ne no suche crafte of couetyse He forbade it by hys sawe Suche gouernours mowen of god agryse For all his rules is ryghtwyse These newe poyntes ben pure papall And goddes lawe they dispyce And all suche faytours shul foule fall

¶They sayne that Peter had the key Of heuyn and hell, to haue and holde I trowe Peter toke no money For no synnes that he solde Suche successours ben to bolde In wynnyng all theyr wytte they wrall Her conscience is waxen colde And all suche faytours foule hem fall

¶Peter was neuer so great a fole To leaue hys key with suche a lorell Or to take suche cursed suche a tole He was aduysed nothyng well I trowe they haue the key of hell Theyr maister is of that place marshall For there they dressen hem to dwell And with false Lucifere there to fall

¶They ben as proude as Lucifarre As angry, and as enuyous From good faythe they ben full farre

In couetyse they ben curyous To catche catell as couytous As hoūde, that for hungre woll yall Vngoodly, and vngratious And nedely suche falshed shal foule fall

¶The pope and he were Peters heyre Me thynke he erreth in this case whan choyse of byshoppes is in dispeyre To chosen hem in dyuers place A lorde shall write to hym for grace For hys clerke anone pray he shall So shall he spede hys purchase And all suche false foule hem fall

¶Though he can no more good A lordes prayer shalbe spedde Though he be wylde of wyll or wood Nat vnderstandyng what men han redde A leude boster, and that god forbede As good a byshoppe is my horse ball Suche a Pope is foule be stedde And at last woll foule fall

¶He maketh byshoppes for erthly thanke And nothyng for Christes sake Suche that ben full fatte and ranke To soule heale none hede they take Al is well done what euer they make For they shal answere at one fors all For worldes thanke, suche worch and wake And all suche false shall foule fall

¶Suche that canne nat her Crede wyth prayer shull be made prelates Nother canne the gospell rede Suche shull nowe welde hye estates The hye goodes frendshyp hem makes They toteth on her somme totall Suche bere the keyes of hell yates And all suche false shall foule fall

¶They forsake for Christes loue Traueyle, hungre, thurst, and colde For they ben ordred euer all aboue Out of youthe tyl they ben olde By the dore they go, nat in to the folde To helpe theyr shepe they nought trauall Hyred men all suche I holde And all suche false foule hem fall

¶For Chryst her kyng they woll forsake And knowe hym nought for hys pouerte For Christes loue they woll wake And drynke pyement ale aparte Of god they seme nothyng a ferde As lusty lyueth, as dyd Lamuall And dryuen her shepe in to deserte All suche faytours shull foule fall

¶Christ hath .xij. Apostels here Nowe say they, there may be but one That may nat erre in no manere who leueth nat this ben lost echone Peter erred, so dyde nat Iohn why is he cleped the principall? Christ cleped hym Peter, but him self y^e stone All false faytours foule hem fall

¶why cursen they the croysery Christes christen creatures For bytwene hem is nowe enuy To be enhaunsed in honours And christen lyuers with her labours Fyr they leuyn on no man mortall But do to dethe with dishonours And all suche false foule hem fall

¶what knoweth a tyllour at the plowe The popes name, and what he hate Hys crede suffyseth to hym ynowe And knoweth a cardynall by hys hatte Rough is the poore vnrightly latte That knoweth Christ hys god royall Suche maters be nat worth a gnatte But suche false faytours foule hem fall

¶A kyng shall knele and kysse hys showe Chryst suffred a synfull to kysse his fete Me thynketh he holdeth hym hye ynowe So Lucifer dyd, that hye sette Suche one me thynketh hym selfe foryete Eyther to the trouth he was nat call Chryst that suffred woundes wete Shall make suche falshed foule fall

¶They layeth out her large nettes For to take syluer and golde Fyllen coffers, and sackes fettes There as they soules catche sholde Her seruauntes be to them vnholde But they can doublyn theyr rentall To bygge hem castels, and bygge hem holde And all suche false foule hem fall.

¶Here endeth the fyrst parte of thys tale, and herafter foloweth the seconde parte

TO accorde with this worde fal No more English can I fynde Shewe another nowe I shall For I haue moche to saye be∣hynde Howe preestes han the people pynde As curteys Christ hath me kende And putte thys matter in my mynde To make thys maner men amende

¶Shortly to shende hem, and shewe nowe Howe wrongfully they worche and walke O hye god, nothyng they tell, ne howe But in goddes worde, telleth many a balke In hernes holde hem and in halke And prechyn of tythes and offrende And vntruely of the gospell talke For hys mercy god it amende

¶What is Antichrist to saye But euyn Christes aduersary Suche hathe nowe ben many a day To Christes byddyng full contrary That from the trouthe clene varry Out of the waye they ben wende And Christes people vntruely cary God for hys pytie it amende

¶That lyuen contrary to Christes lyfe In hye pride agaynst mekenesse Agaynst sufferaunce they vsen stryfe And angre ayenst sobrenesse Agaynst wysedome wylfulnesse To Christes tales lytell tende Agaynst measure outragyousnesse But whan god woll it maye amende

¶Lordly lyfe ayenst lowlynesse And demyn all without mercy And couetyse ayenst largesse Agaynst trewth trechery And agaynst almesse enuy Agaynst Christ they comprehende For chastyte they maynteyne lechery God for hys grace thys amende

¶Ayenst penaunce they vse delyghtes Ayenst suffraunce stronge defence Ayenst god they vsen yuel rightes Agaynste pytie punishementes Open yuell ayenst contynence Her wycked wynnyng worse dispende Sobrenesse they sette in to dispence But god for hys goodnesse it amende

¶Why cleymen they holy hys powere And wranglen ayenst all hys hestes Hys lyuyng folowen they nothyng here But lyuen worse than wytlesse beestes Of fyshe and fleshe they louen feestes As lordes they ben brode ykende Of goddes poore they haten gestes God for hys mercy thys amende

¶With Dyuers suche shall haue her dome That sayne that they be Christes frendes And do nothyng as they shulde done All suche ben falser than ben fendes On the people they ley suche bendes As god is in erthe they han offende Surour for suche Christ nowe sende vs And for hys mercy thys amende

¶A token of Antichrist they be Hys careckes ben nowe wyde yknowe Receyued to preche shall no man be wythout token of hym I trowe Eche christen preest, to prechyn owe From god aboue they ben sende. Goddes worde, to all folke for to showe Synfull man for to amende

¶Christ sente the poore for to preche The royall ryche he dyd nat so Nowe dare no poore the people teche For Antichrist is ouer all her foe Amonge the people he mote go He hath bydden, all suche suspende Some hath he hente, and thynketh yet mo But all thys god may well amende

¶All tho that han the worlde forsake And lyuen loly, as god badde In to her prison shullen be take Betyn and bounden, and forthe ladde Herof I rede no man be dradde Christ sayd, hys shulde be shende Eche man ought herof be gladde For god full well it woll amende

¶They take on hem royall powere And saye they haue swerdes two One curse to hell, one flee men here For at hys takyng Christ had no mo Yet Peter had one of tho But Christ, to Peter smyte gan defende And in to the sheth badde putte it tho And all suche myscheues god amende

¶Christ badde Peter kepe his shepe And with his swerde forbade hym smyte Swerde is no tole with shepe to kepe But to sheperdes that shepe woll byte Me thynketh suche sheperdes ben to wyte Ayen her shepe with swerde that contende They driue her shepe with great dispyte But all thys god may well amende

¶So successours to Peter be they nought Whom Christ made chefe pastoure Aswerde no sheperde vsen ought But he wold slee, as a bochoure For who so were Peters successour Shulde bere hys shepe tyll hys backe bende And shadowe hem from euery shoure And all thys god maye wel amende

¶Successours to Peter ben these In that that Peter Christ forsoke That had leuer the loue of god lese Than a sheperde had to lese his hoke He culleth the shepe as dothe the coke Of hem taken the woll vntrende And falsely glose the gospell boke God for his mercy them amende

¶After Christ had take Peter the kay Chryst sayd, he muste dye for man That Peter to Christ gan withsay Christ badde hym go behynde Sathan Suche coūsaylours many of these men han For worldes wele, god to offende Peters successours they ben for than But all suche god may well amende

¶For Sathan is to say no more But he that contrary to Christ is In thys they lerne Peters lore They sewen hym whan he dyd mysse They folowe Peter forsothe in thys In al that Christ wolde Peter reprehende But nat in that that longeth to heuyn blysse God for hys mercy hem amende

¶Some of the Apostels they sewen in case Of ought that I can vnderstonde Hym that betrayed Christ, Iudas That bare the purse in euery londe And al that he myght sette on honde He hydde and stale, and myspende His rule these traytours han in honde Almighty God hem amende

¶And at last hys lorde gan tray Cursedly through hys false couetyse So wolde these, trayen hym for money And they wysten in what wyse They be seker of the selfe ensyse From all sothnesse they ben frende And couetyse chaungen with queyneyse Almighty God all suche amende

¶Were Christ on erthe here efte sone These wolde dampne hym to dye All hys hestes they han fordone And sayne his sawes ben heresy And ayenst his commaundementes they crye And dampne all hys to be brende For it lyketh nat hem suche losengery God almighty hem amende

¶These han moremyght in Englande hert Than hath the kynge and all hys lawe They han purchased hem suche powere To taken hem whom lyste nat knawe And say that heresy is her sawe And so to prysone woll hem sende It was nat so by elder dawe God for hys mercy it amende

¶The kynges lawe wol no man deme Angerlyche withouten answere But yf any man these mysqueme He shalbe bayghted as a bere And yet wel worse they woll hym tere And in prysone woll hem pende In gyues, and in other gere Whan God woll, it maye mende

¶The kyng taxeth nat hys men But by assente of the commynalte But these eche yere woll raunsom hem Maysterfully, more than doth he Her seales by yere better be

Than is the kynges in extende Her offycers han gretter fee But thys mischefe god amende

¶For who so woll proue a testament That is natt all worthe tenne pounde He shall paye for the parchement The thyrde parte of the money all rounde Thus the people is raunsounde They saye suche parte to hem shulde apende There as they grypen it gothe to grounde God for hys mercy it amende

¶A symple fornycatioun Twenty shyllynges he shall paye And than haue an absolution And all the yere vsen it forthe he maye Thus they letten hem go a stray They recke nat though the soule be brende These kepyn yuell Peters key And all suche sheperdes God amende

¶Wonder is, that the parlyament And all the lordes of thys londe Here to taken so lytell entent To helpe the people out of her honde For they ben harder in theyr bonde Worse beate, and bytter brende Than to the kyng is vnderstande God hym helpe thys to amende

¶What bysshoppes, what relygions Han in thys lande as moche laye fee Lorshyppes, and possessyons More than the lordes, it semeth me That maketh hem lese charyte They mowe nat to God attende In erthe they haue so hyghe degree God for hys mercy it amende

¶The Emperour yaf the pope somtyme So hyghe lordshyp hym aboute That at laste the sely kyme The proude Pope putte hym out So of thys realme is in doute But lordes be ware and them defende For nowe these folke be wonder stoute The kynge and lordes nowe thys amende.

¶Thus endeth the seconde parte of this tale, and her after folo∣weth the thyrde.

MOyses lawe forbode it tho That preestes shulde no lordshyppes welde Christes Gospel byddeth also That they shulde no lord¦shyppe helde Ne Christes Apostels were neuer so bolde No suche lordeshyppes to them enbrace But smeren her shepe and kepe her folde God amende hem for hys grace

¶For they ne ben but countrefete Men may knowe hem by her fruite Her gretnesse maketh hem god foryete And take hys mekenesse in dispyte And they were poore and had but lyte They nolde nat demen after the face But noryshe her shepe, and hem nat byte God amende hem for hys grace

¶Gyfon.

¶What canst thou preche ayenst chanons That men clepen seculere?

Pely.

They ben curates of many towns On erthe they haue great powere They han great prebendes and dere Some two or thre, and some mo A personage to ben a playeng fere And yet they serue the kynge also

¶And lette to ferme all that fare To whom that woll most gyue therfore Some woll spende, and some woll spa•• And some woll laye it vp in store A cure of soule they care nat fore So they mowe money take whether her soules be wonne or lore Her profytes they woll nat forsake

¶They haue a gederyng procuratour That can the poore people enplede And robben hem as a rauynour And to hys lorde the money lede And catche of quicke and eke of dede And riche•• hym and hys lorde eke And to robbe the poore can gyue good rede Of olde and yonge, of hole and syke

¶Therwith they purchase hem lay fee In londe, there hem lyketh best And buylde also brode as a cyte

Bothe in the Est, and eke in the west To purchase thus they ben ful prest But on the poore they woll nought spende Ne no good gyue to goddes gest Ne sende hym some that all hath sende

¶By her seruyce suche woll lyue And trusse that other in to treasour Though all her paryshe dye vnshriue They woll nat gyue a rose floure Her lyfe shulde be as a myrrour Bothe to lered and to leude also And teche the people her lele labour Suche myster men ben all mysgo.

¶Some of hem ben harde nygges And some of hem ben proude and gay Some spende her good vpon gygges And fynden hem of great aray Alas, what thynke these men to say That thus dispenden goddis good At the dredefull domes daye Suche wretches shulbe worse than wood

¶Some her churces neuer ne sye Ne neuer o peny thyder ne sende Though the poore parishens for hungre dye O peny on hem wyl they nat spende Haue they receyuynge of the rente They recke neuer of the remenant Alas the deuyll hath clene hem blent Suche one is Sathanas soiournant

¶And vsen horedome and harlotry Couetyse, pomp••, and pride Slouthe, wrathe, and eke enuy And sewen synne by euery syde Alas, where thynke suche tabyde Howe woll they accomptes yelde From hye God they mowe hem nat hyde Suche wyllers wytte is nat worth a nelde

¶They ben so roted in richesse That Christes pouert is foryet Serued wyth so many messe Hem thynketh that Manna is no mete All is good that they mowe gete They wene to lyue euermore But whan god at dome is sette Suche treasour is a feble store

¶Vnneth mote they matyns saye For countyng and for court holdynge And yet he iangleth as a iaye And vnderstont hym selfe nothynge He woll serue bothe erle and kynge For hys fyndyng and hys fee And hyde hys tythynge and hys offrynge This is a feble charite

¶Other they ben proude, or coueytous Or they ben harde, or hungry Or they ben lyberall or lecherous Or els medlers wyth marchandry Or maynteyners of men wyth maistry Or stewardes, countours, or pledours And serue God in hypocrisy Such preestes ben Christes false traytours

¶They ben false, they ben vengeable And begylen men in Christes name They ben vnstedfast and vnstable To tray her lorde, hem thynketh no shame To serue God they ben full lame Goddes theues, and falsly stele And falsely goddes worde defame In wynnyng is her worldes wele

¶Antichryst these seruen all I pray the who may say nay? Wyth Antichryst suche shull fall They folowen hym in dede and fay They seruyn hym in ryche array To serue Chryst suche falsely fayne Why, at the dredeful domes day Shull they not folowe hym to payne?

¶That knowen hem selfe that they done yll Ayenst Christes commaundement And amende hem neuer ne wyll But serue Sathan by one assent Who sayth sothe he shalbe shent Or speketh ayenst her false lyuyng who so well lyueth shalbe brent For suche ben gretter than the kyng

¶Pope, Byshoppes, and Cardynals Chanons, Persons, and Vycaire In goddes seruyce I trowe ben false That sacramentes sellen here And ben as proude as Lucifere Eche man loke whether that I lye Who so speketh ayenst her powere It shall be holden heresy

¶Loke howe many orders take Onely of Christe, for hys seruyce That the worldes goodes forsake who so taketh orders, or other wyse I trowe that they shall sore agryse For all the glose that they conne All sewen not thys assyse In yuell tyme they thus begonne

¶Loke howe many amonge hem all Holden not thys hye waye wyth Antichrist they shullen fall For they wolden God betraye God amende hem that best maye For many men they maken shende They weten well the sothe I saye But the dyuell hath foule hem blende

¶Some on her churches dwell Apparaylled poorely, proude of porte The seuen sacramentes they done sell In cattel catchynge is her comforte Of eche matter they wollen mell And done hem wronge is her dysporte To afray the people they ben fell And holde hem lower then doth the lorde

¶For the tythynge of a ducke Or of an apple, or an aye They make men sweare vpon a boke Thus they foulen Christes say Suche bearen yuell heauen kay They mowen assoyle, they mowe shryue wyth mennes wyues strongly play wyth true tyllers sturte and stryue

¶At the wrestlynge, and at the wake And chefe chauntours at the nale Markette beaters, and medlynge make Hoppen and houten wyth heue and hale At fayre freshe, and at wyne stale Dyne and drynke, and make debate The seuen sacramentes set at sayle Howe kepe suche the kayes of heuen gate?

¶Mennes wyues they wollen holde And though that they ben ryght sory To speake they shull not be so bolde For sompnynge to the consystory And make hem saye mouth I lye Though they it sawe wyth her eye Hys lemman holden openly No man so hardy to axe why

¶He woll haue tythynge and offrynge Maugre who so euer it gruche And twyse on the daye he woll synge Goddes prestes nere none suche He mote on huntyng wyth dogge and byche And blowen hys horne, and cryen hey And sorcery vsen as a wytche Suche kepen yuell Peters key

¶Yet they mote haue some stocke or stone Gayly paynted, and proudly dyght To maken men lyuen vpon And saye that it is full of myght Aboute suche, men sette vp great lyght Other suche stockes shull stande therby As darke as it were mydnyght For it maye make no mastry

¶That it leude people se mowe Thou Mary, thou worchest wōder thynges Aboute that, that men offren to nowe Hongen broches, ouches, and rynges The preest purchaseth the offrynges But he nyll offre to none ymage wo is the soule that he for synges That precheth for suche a pylgrimage

¶To men and women that ben poore That ben Christes owne lykenesse Men shullen offre at her dore That suffren honger and dystresse And to suche ymages offre lesse That mowe not fele thurst ne colde The poore in sprete gan Christe blesse Therfore offreth to feble and olde

¶Buckelers brode, and sweardes longe Baudryke, wyth baselardes kene Suche toles about her necke they honge wyth Antichrist suche preestes bene Vpon her dedes it is well sene whome they seruen, whome they honoren Antichristes they bene clene And goddes goodes fasly deuouren

¶Of scarlet and grene gay gownes That mote be shape for the newe To clyppen & kyssen counten in townes The damoseles that to the daunce sewe Cutted clothes to sewe her hewe

wyth longe pykes on her shone Our goddes gospell is not trewe Eyther they seruen the dyuell or none

¶Nowe ben prestes pokes so wyde That men must enlarge the vestement The holy gospell they done hyde For they contraryen in rayment Suche preestes of Lucifer ben sent Lyke conquetours they ben arayde The proude pendauntes at her ars ypent Falsely the truthe they han betrayde

¶Shryfte syluer suche wollen aske is And woll men crepe to the crouche None of the sacramentes saue askes wythout mede shall no man touche On her byshoppe theyr warant vouche That is lawe of the decre wyth mede and money thus they mouche And thus they sayne is charite

¶In the myddes of her masse They nyll haue no man but for hyre And full shortly let forth passe Suche shull men fynde in eche shyre That personages for profyte desyre To lyue in lykynge and in lustes I dare not sayne, Sans ose ieo dyre That suche ben Antichristes preestes

¶Or they yes the byshoppes why Or they mote ben in hys seruyce And holden forth her harlotry Suche prelates ben of feble empryse Of Goddes grame suche men agryse For suche matters that taken mede Howe they excuse hem, and in what wyse Me thynketh they ought greatly drede

¶They sayne that it to no man longeth To reproue them though they erre But falsely goddes goodesse they fongeth And therwyth maynteyne wo and werre Her dedes shulde be as bryght as sterre Her lyuynge, leude mannes lyght They saye the pope maye not erre Nede muste that passe mannes myght

¶Though a prest lye w^t his leman al nyght And tellen hys felowe, and he hym He goth to masse anone ryght And sayeth he syngeth out of synne Hys byrde abydeth hym at hys ynne And dyghteth hys dyner the meane whyle He syngeth hys masse for he wolde wynne And so he weneth God begyle

¶Hem thynketh longe tyll they be mette And that they vsen forth all the yere Amonge the folke when he is sette He holdeth no man halfe hys pere Of the byshoppe he hath powere To soyle men, or els they ben lore Hys absolution maye make them skere And wo is the soule that he syngeth fore

¶The Gryffon began for to threte And sayd, of monkes canst thou ought The Pellycan sayd, they ben full grete And in thys world moch wo hath wrought Saynt benet, that her order brought Ne made hem neuer on suche manere I trowe it came neuer in hys thought That they shulde vse so great power

¶That a man shulde a monke lorde cal Ne serue on knees, as a kynge He is as proude as prynce in pall In meate, and drynke, and all thynge Some wearen myter and rynge wyth double worsted well ydyght wyth royall meate and ryche drynke And rydeth on a courser as a knyght

¶Wyth hauke and wyth houndes eke wyth broches or ouches on hys hode Some saye no masse in all a weke Of deynties is her moste foode wyth lordshyppes and wyth bondmen Thys is a royall religion Saynt Benet made neuer none of hem To haue lordshyppe of man ne towne

¶Nowe they ben queynte and curious wyth fyne clothe cladde and serued clene Proude angry, and enuyous Malyce is moche that they meane In catchynge crafty and couetous Lordly lyuen in great lykynge Thys lyuynge is not religious Accordynge to Benette in hys lyuynge

¶They ben clerkes, her courtes they ouer se

Her poore tenaunce fully they slyte The hyre that a man amerced be The gladlyer they woll it wryte Thys is farre from Christes pouerte For all wyth couetyse they endyte On the poore they haue no pyte Ne neuer hem cheryshe but euer hem byte

¶And cōmenly suche ben comen Of poore people, and of hem begete That thys perfection han ynomen Her fathers ryden not but on her fete And trauaylen sore for that they ete In pouert lyueth yonge and olde Her fathers suffreth drought and wete Many hongry meles, thurst, and colde

¶And all thys the monkes han forsake For Christes loue and saynt Benette To pryde and ease haue hem take Thys religion is yuell besette Had they ben out of religioun They must haue honged at the plowe Threshynge & dykynge fro towne to towne wyth sory mete, and not halfe ynowe

¶Therfore they han thys all forsake And taken to ryches, pryde, and ease Full fewe for God woll monkes hem make Lytell is suche order for to prayse Saynt Benet ordayned it not so But badde hem be cherelyche In churlyche maner lyue and go Boystous in earth, and not lor••lych

¶They dysclaunder saynt Benette Therfore they haue hys holy curse Saynt Benet wyth hem neuer mette But yf they thought to robbe hys purse I can no more herof tell But they ben lyke tho before And clene serue the dyuell of hell And ben hys treasoure and hys store

¶And all suche other counterfaytours Chanons, Canons, and suche dysgysed Ben goddes enemyes and traytours Hys true religion han foule dyspysed Of Freres I haue tolde before In a makynge of a Crede And yet I coulde tell worse and more But men wolde weryen it to rede

¶As goddes goodnesse no man tell myght wryte ne speake, ne thynke in thought So her falshed, and her vnryght May no man tell that euer god wrought The Gryffon sayd, thou canst no good Thou came neuer of no gentyll kynde Other I trowe thou waxest wood Or els thou hast loste thy mynde

¶Shulde holy churche haue no heed? who shulde be her gouernayle who shulde her rule, who shulde her reed who shulde her forthren, who shulde auayle Eche man shall lyue by hys trauayle who best doth, shall haue moste mede wyth strength yf men the churche assayle wyth strength men must defende her nede

¶And the pope were purely poore Nedy, and nothynge ne hadde He shulde be dryuen from dore to dore The wycked of hym nolde not be dradde Of suche an heed men wolde be sadde And synfully lyuen as hem lust wyth strength, amendes suche be made wyth wepen wolues from shepe be wust

¶Yf the pope and prelates wolde So begge, and bydde, bowe and borowe Holy churche shulde stande full colde Her seruauntes sytte and soupe sorowe And they were noughty foule and horowe To worshyppe god men wolde wlate Bothe on euen and on morowe Suche harlotry men wolde hate

¶Therfore men of holy churche Shulde ben honest in all thynge worshypfully goddes workes werche So semeth it to serue Christ her kynge In honest and in clene clothynge wyth vessels of golde and clothes ryche To God honestly to make offrynge To hys lordshypppe none is lyche

¶The Pellican caste an houge crye And sayd alas, why sayest thou so Christ is our heed that sytteth on hye Heddes ne ought we haue no mo we ben hys membres both also And father he taught vs to cal hym als Maysters to be called defended he tho

All other maysters ben wycked and fals

¶That taketh maystry in hys name Goostly, and for earthly good Kynges and lordes shulde lordshyp hane And rule the people wyth mylde mode Christ for vs that shedde hys blode Badde hys preestes no maystershyp haue Ne carke nat for cloth ne fode From euery myschefe he wyll hem saue

¶Her ryche clothynge shalbe ryghtwysnesse Her treasoure, trewe lyfe shalbe Charite shalbe her rychesse Her lordshyppe shalbe vnite Hope in God, her honeste Her vessell clene conscience Poore in spirite, and humilite Shalbe holy churches defence

¶What sayd the Gryffon may the greue That other folkes faren wele what haste thou to done wyth her lyue Thy falsheed eche man may fele For thou canst no catell gete But lyuest in londe as a lorell wyth glosynge gettest thou thy mete So fareth the deuell that wonneth in hell

¶He wolde that eche mā there shulde dwell For he lyueth in clene enuye So wyth the tales that thou doest tell Thou woldest other people dystry wyth your glose, and your heresy For ye can lyue no better lyfe But clene in hypocrisy And bryngest the in wo and stryfe

¶And therwyth haue not to done For ye ne haue here no cure Ye serue the dyuell, neyther God ne man And he shall paye you your hyre For ye woll fare well at feestes And warme clothed for the colde Therfore ye glose goddes hestes And begyle the people yonge and olde

¶And all the seuen sacramentes Ye speake ayenst, as ye were slye Ayenst tythynges, offringes, w^t your entētes And on our lordes body falsly lye And all thys ye done to lyue in case As who sayeth, there ben none suche And sayne the pope is not worth a pease To make the people ayen hym gruche

¶And thys cōmeth in by fendes To brynge the christen in dystaunce For they wolde that no man were frendes Leaue thy chattrynge wyth myschaunce Yf thou lyue well, what wylt thou more Let other men lyue as hem lyst Spende in good, or kepe in store Other mennes conscience neuer thou nyst

¶Ye han no cure to answere fore what meddell ye, that han not to done Let men lyue as they han done yore For thou shalte answere for no man The Pellican sayd, Syr, nay I dispysed not the pope Ne no sacramente, soth to say But speake in charite and good hope

¶But I dyspyse her hye pryde Her rychesse, that shulde be poore in spirite Her wyckednesse is knowe so wyde They serue god in false habyte And turnen mekenesse in to pryde And lowlynesse in to hye degre And goddes wordes turne and hyde And that am I moued by charite

¶To lette men to lyue so wyth all my connynge and al my myght And to warne men of her wo And to tell hem trouth and ryght The sacramentes be soule hele Yf they ben vsed in good vse Ayenst that speake I neuer a dele For then were I nothynge wyse

¶But they that vsen hem in mysse manere Or sette hem vp to any sale I trowe they shall abye hem dere Thys is my reason, thys is my tale who so taketh hem vnryghtfullyche Ayenst the ten cōmaundementes Or by glose wreched lyche Selleth any of the sacramentes

¶I trowe they do the deuell homage In that they weten they do wronge And therto I dare well wage

They seruen Satan for al her songe To tythen and offren is holsome lyfe So it be done in dewe manere A man to houselyn and to shryue weddynge, and all the other in fere

¶So it be nother solde ne bought Ne take ne gyue for couetyse And it be so taken it is nought who selleth hem so, maye sore agryse On our Lordes body I do not lye I saye soth thorowe trewe rede Hys fleshe and blode through hys mystrye Is there, in the forme of brede

¶Howe it is there, it nedeth not stryue whether it be subgette or accydent But as Christ was, when he was on lyue So is he there verament Yf pope or cardynall lyue good lyue As Christ commaunded in hys gospell Ayenst that woll I not stryue But me thynketh they lyue not well

¶For yf the pope lyued as god bede Pryde and hyghnesse he shulde dyspyse Rychesse, couetyse, and crowne on hede Mekenesse and pouerte he shulde vse The Gryffon sayd he shulde abye Thou shalbe brent in balefull fyre And all thy secte I shall dystrye Ye shalbe hanged by the swyre

¶Ye shullen be hanged and to drawe who gyueth you leaue for to preache Or speake agaynst goddes lawe And the people thus falsely teache Thou shalt be cursed wyth boke and bell And dysseuered from holy churche And clene ydampned into hell Otherwyse but ye woll worche

¶The Pellycan sayd that I ne drede Your cursynge is of lytell value Of god I hope to haue my mede For it is falshede that ye shewe For ye ben out of charite And wylneth vengeaunce, as dyd Nero To suffren I woll redy be I drede not that thou canst do

¶Christ badde ones suffre for hys loue And so he taught all hys seruauntes And but thou amende for hys sake aboue I drede not all thy mayntenaunce For yf I drede the worldes hate Me thynketh I were lytell to prayse I drede nothynge your hye estate Ne I drede not your dysease

¶Wolde ye turne and leaue your pryde Your hye porte, and your rychesse Your cursynge shulde not go so wyde God brynge you into ryghtwysnesse For I drede not your tyranny For nothynge that ye can done To suffre I am all redy Syker I recke neuer howe soone

¶The Gryffon grynned as he were wode And loked louely as an owle And swore by cockes herte bloode He wolde hym tere euery doule Holy churche thou dysclaundrest foule For thy reasons I woll the all to race And make thy fleshe to rote and moule Losell, thou shalte haue harde grace

¶The Gryffon flewe forth on hys waye The Pellycane dyd sytte and wepe And to hym selfe he gan saye God wolde that any of Christes shepe Had herde, and yeake kepe Eche a worde that here sayd was And wolde it wrytte and well it kepe God wolde it were all for hys grace

Plowman.

¶I answerde, and sayd I wolde Yf for my trauayle any man wolde pay

Pelycā.

He sayd yes, these y^t god han solde For they han store of money

Plowmā.

I sayd, tell me and thou may why tellest thou mennes trespace?

Pelycan.

He said, to amēde hem in good fay Yf God woll gyue me any grace

¶For Christ hym selfe is lykened to me That for hys people dyed on rode As fare I, ryght so fareth he He fedeth hys byrdes wyth hys blode But these done yuell ayenst gode And ben hys fone vnder frendes face I tolde hem howe her lyuynge stode God amende hem for hys grace

Plowmā.

what ayleth y^e Gryffon, tell why That he holdeth on that other syde For they two ben lykely And wyth kyndes robben wyde

Pellicā.

The foule betokeneth pryde As Lucifer, that hygh flewe was And syth he dyd hym in euell hyde For he agylted goddes grace

¶As byrde flyeth vp in the ayre And lyueth by byrdes that ben meke So these be flowe vp into dyspayre And shenden sely soules eke The soules that ben in synnes seke He culleth hem, knele therfore alas For brybry goddes forbode breke God amende it for hys grace

¶The hynder parte is a lyoun A robber and a rauynere That robbeth the people in earth a downe And in erth holdeth none hys pere So fareth thys foule both ferre and nere And wyth tēporel strength they people chase As a lyon proude in earth here God amende hem for hys grace

Pellican.

¶He slewe forth wyth hys wynges twayne All droupynge, dased, and dull But soone the Gryffon came agayne Of hys foules the earth was full The Pellican he had cast to pull So great a nombre neuer sene there was what maner of foules tellen I woll Yf God woll gyue me of hys grace

¶Wyth the Gryffon comen foules fele Rauyns, rokes, crowes, and pye Grayfoules, agadred wele Igurde aboue they wolde hye Gledes and bosardes weren hem by whyte molles and puttockes token her place And lapwynges, that well cōneth lye Thys felowshyp han for gerde her grace

¶Longe the Pellican was out But at laste he cometh agayne And brought wyth hym the Phenix stoute The Gryffon wolde haue flowe ful faynt Hys foules that flewen as thycke as rayne The Phenix tho began hem chace To flye from hym it was in vayne For he dyd vengeaunce and no grace

¶He slewe hem downe wythout mercy There astarte neyther free ne thrall On hym they cast a rufull crye when the Gryffon downe was fall He bete hem not, but slewe hem all whyther he hem droue no man may trace Vnder the erthe me thought they yall Alas they had a feble grace

¶The Pellican then axed ryght For my wrytynge yf I haue blame who woll for me fyght of flyght? who shall shelde me from shame He that had a mayde to dame And the lambe that slayne was Shall shelde me from gostly blame For erthely harme is goddes grace

¶Therfore I praye euery man Of my wrytynge haue me excused Thys wrytynge wryteth the Pellican That thus these people hath dyspysed For I am freshe fully aduysed I nyll not maynteyne hys manace For the deuell is often dysguysed To brynge a man to yuell grace

¶Wyteth the Pellican and not me For herof I nyl not auowe In hye ne in lowe, ne in no degre But as a fable take it ye mowe To holy churche I wyll me bowe Eche man to amende hym Christ sende space And for my wrytynge me alowe He that is almyghty for hys grace

FINIS.

¶Thus endeth the boke of Caunter∣bury tales. And here after folo∣weth the Romaunt of the Rose.

Notes

• * 1.1

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• * 1.2

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