The works of our ancient, learned, & excellent English poet, Jeffrey Chaucer as they have lately been compar'd with the best manuscripts, and several things added, never before in print : to which is adjoyn'd The story of the siege of Thebes, by John Lidgate ... : together with The life of Chaucer, shewing his countrey, parentage, education, marriage, children, revenues, service, reward, friends, books, death : also a table, wherein the old and obscure words in Chaucer are explained, and such words ... that either are, by nature or derivation, Arabick, Greek, Latine, Italian, French, Dutch, or Saxon, mark'd with particular notes for the better understanding of their original.

¶The Legende of Lucrece of Rome.

NOw mote I saine thexiling of kings Of Rome, for her horrible doings Of the last king Tarquinius, As saith Ovid, and Titus Liuivs, But for that cause tell I nat this storie, But for to praysen, and drawen in memorie The very wife, the very Lucresse, That for her wifehood, and her stedfastnesse, Nat only that the painems her commend, But that cleped is in our Legend The great Austyn, that hath compassioun Of this Lucrece that starfe in Rome toun, And in what wise I woll but shortly treat, And of this thing I touch but the great. When Ardea besieged was about With Romanes, y^t full sterne were & stout, Full long lay the siege, and little wroughten, So y^t they were halfe idle, as hem thoughten, And in his play Tarquinius the yong, Gan for to yape, for he was light of tong, And said, that it was an idle life, No man did there no more than his wife, And let vs speke of wives that is best, Praise every man his owne as him lest, And with our speech let vs ease our hert. A knight (that hight Collatin) vp stert, And sayd thus, nay sir it is no nede To trowen on the word, but on the dede: I have a wife (qd. he) that as I trow Is holden good of all that ever her know, Go we to Rome to night, and we shull see. Tarquinius answerde, that liketh mee. To Rome they be comen, & fast hem dight To Colatins house, and downe they light, Tarquinius, and eke this Colatine, The husbond knew the efters well and fine, And full prively into the house they gone. Nor at the gate porter was there none, And at the chamber dore they abide: This noble wife sate by her beds side Discheueled, for no mallice she ne thought, And soft wooll sayth Liuie that she wrought, To kepe her from slouth and idlenesse, And bad her servaunts done her businesse, And asketh hem, what tidings heren ye? How sayth men of the siege, how shall it be? God would the wals were fallen adoun, Mine husbond is too long out of this toun, For which drede doth me sore to smert, Right as a sword it stingeth to mine hert, When I thinke on this or of that place, God save my lord, I pray him for his grace: And therwithall so tenderly she gan weepe, And of her werke she tooke no more keepe, But meekely she let her eyen fall, And thilke semblant sate her well withall, And eke her teares full of heavinesse, Embesessed her wifely chastnesse, Her countenaunce is to her hert digne, For they acordeden in deed and signe,

And with that word her husbond Collatin, Or she of him was ware, came stertling in, And said, drede thee nat, for I am here, And she anone vp rose, with blisfull chere, And kissed him, as of wives is the wonne. Tarquinius, this proud kings sonne Conceived hath her beautie and her chere, Her yellow haire, her bountie, & her manere, Her hew, her words, y^• she hath complained, And by no craft her beautie was nat fained, And caught to this lady such desire, That in his hert he brent as any fire, So woodly, that his wit was all forgotten, For well thought he she should nat be gotten, And aye the more he was in dispaire, The more coveiteth, and thought her faire, His blind lust was all his coveiring. On morrow, when the bird began to sing, Vnto the siege he commeth full prively, And by himselfe he walketh soberly, The image of her recording alway new, Thus lay her hair, & thus fresh was her hew, Thus sate, thus span, this was her chere, Thus fair she was, and this was her manere: All this conceit his heart hath new itake, And as the see, with tempest all to shake, That after when the storme is all ago, Yet woll the water quappe a day or two, Right so, though that her forme were absent, The pleasaunce of her forme was present, But nathelesse, nat pleasaunce, but delite, Or an vnrightfull talent with dispite, For maugre her, she shall my lemman be: * Hap helpeth hardy man alway (qd. he) What end that I make, it shall be so, And girt him with his sword, and gan to go, And he forthright, till to Rome he come, And all alone his way that he hath nome, Vnto the house of Colatin full right, Doun was y^• sunne, & day hath lost his light, And in he come, vnto a privie halke, And in the night full theefely gan he stalke, When every wight was to his rest brought, Ne no wight had of treason such a thought, Whether by window, or by other gin, With swerd ydraw, shortly he commeth in There as she lay, this noble wife Lucresse, And as she woke, her bedde she felt presse: What beast is that (qd. she) that wayeth thus? I am the kings sonne Tarquinius (Qd. he) but and thou crie, or any noise make, Or if thou any creature awake, By thilke God, that formed man of live, This swerd through thine hert shall I rive, And therwithall vnto her throte he stert, And set the swerd all sharpe on her hert: No word she spake she hath no might therto, What shall she saine, her wit is all ago, Right as when a wolfe findeth a lamb alone, To whom shall she complaine or make mone: What, shall she fight with an hardy knight, Well wote men a woman hath no might: What, shall she crie, or how shall she astert? That hath her by y^e throte, with swerd at hert, She asketh grace, and said all that she can. No wolt thou nat (qd. this cruell man) As wisely Iupiter my soule save, I shall in thy stable slea thy knave, And lay him in thy bed, and loud crie, That I thee find in such avoutrie, And thus thou shalt be dead, and also lese Thy name, for thou shalt nat chese. This Romans wives loveden so her name At thilke time, and dreden so the shame, That w^t for fere of slander, & drede of death She lost both at ones wit and breath, And in a swough she lay, and woxe so dead, Men mighten smite off her arme or head, She feleth nothing, neither foule ne faire. Tarquinius, that art a kings heire, And shouldest as by linage and by right Done as a lord, and a very knight, Why hast thou done dispite to chivalrie? Why hast thou done thy lady villanie? Alas, of thee this was a villanous dede, But now to the purpose, in the story I rede, When he was gon, & this mischaunce is fall, This lady sent after her friendes all, Father, mother, and husbond, all ifere, And discheveled with her haire clere, In habite such as women vsed tho Vnto the burying of her friends go, She sate in hall, with a sorowfull sight, Her friends asken what her aylen might, And who was dead, and she sate aye weeping, A word for shame ne may she forth out bring, Ne vpon hem she durst nat behold, But at the last of Tarquiny she hem told This rufull case, and all this thing horrible, The wo to tell were impossible That she and all her friends make at ones, All had folkes herts ben of stones, It might have maked hem vpon her rew, Her hert was so wifely and so trew, She said, that for her gilt ne for her blame Her husbond should nat have y^e foule name, That would she nat suffren by no way: And they answerde all vnto her fay, That they foryave it her, for it was right, It was no gilt, it lay nat in her might, And saiden her ensamples many one, But all for naught, for thus she said anone: Be as be may (qd. she) of forgiving, I will nat have no forgift for nothing, But prively she cought forth a knife, And therwithall she raft her selfe her life, And as she fell adowne she cast her looke, And of her clothes yet heed she tooke, For in her falling yet she had a care, Least that her feet or such things lay bare, So well she loved cleannesse, and eke trouth, Of her had all the towne of Rome routh, And Brutus hath by her chast blood swore, That Tarquin should ybanished be therfore, And all his kinne, and let the people call, And openly the tale he told hem all, And openly let carry her on a bere Through all y^• town, that men may see & here The horrible deed of her oppressioun, Ne never was there king in Rome toun Sens thilke day, and she was holden there A saint, and ever her day yhallowed dere,

As in her law: and thus endeth Lucresse The noble wife, Titus beareth witnesse: I tell it, for she was of love so trew, Ne in her will she chaunged for no new, And in her stable hert, sadde and kind, That in these women men may all day find There as they cast her hert, there it dwelleth, For well I wote, that Christ himselfe telleth, That in Israel, as wide as is the lond, That so great faith in all the lond he ne fond, As in a woman, and this is no lie, And as for men, looke ye such tyrannie They doen all day, assay hem who so list, * The truest is full brothell for to trist.