rihte lyne The Cousin weddeth the cousine. For Habraham, er that he deide, This charge upon his servant leide, To him and in this wise spak, That he his Sone Isaa5c 110 Do wedde for no worldes good, Bot only to his oghne blod: Wherof this Servant, as he bad, Whan he was ded, his Sone hath lad To Bathuel, wher he Rebecke Hath wedded with the whyte necke; For sche, he wiste wel and syh, Was to the child cousine nyh. And thus as Habraham hath tawht, Whan Isaa5c was god betawht, 120 His Sone Jacob dede also, And of Laban the dowhtres tuo, Which was his Em, he tok to wyve, And gat upon hem in his lyve, Of hire ferst which hihte Lie, Sex Sones of his Progenie, And of Rachel tuo Sones eke: The remenant was forto seke, That is to sein of foure mo, Wherof he gat on Bala tuo, 130 And of Zelpha he hadde ek tweie. And these tuelve, as I thee seie, Thurgh providence of god himselve Ben seid the Patriarkes tuelve; Of whom, as afterward befell, The tribes tuelve of Irahel Engendred were, and ben the same That of Hebreus tho hadden name, Which of Sibrede in alliance For evere kepten thilke usance 140 Most comunly, til Crist was bore. Bot afterward it was forbore Amonges ous that ben baptized; For of the lawe canonized The Pope hath bede to the men, That non schal wedden of his ken Ne the seconde ne the thridde. Bot thogh that holy cherche it bidde, So to restreigne Mariage, Ther ben yit upon loves Rage 150 Full manye of suche nou aday That taken wher thei take may. For love, which is unbesein Of alle reson, as men sein, Thurgh sotie and thurgh nycete, Of his voluptuosite He spareth no condicion Of ken ne yit religion, Bot as a cock among the Hennes, Or as a Stalon in the Fennes, 160 Which goth amonges al the Stod, Riht so can he nomore good, Bot takth what thing comth next to honde. Mi Sone, thou schalt understonde, That such delit is forto blame. Forthi if thou hast be the same To love in eny such manere, Tell forth therof and schrif thee hiere. Mi fader, nay, god wot the sothe, Mi feire is noght of such a bothe, 170 So wylde a man yit was I nevere, That of mi ken or lief or levere Me liste love in such a wise: And ek I not for what emprise I scholde assote upon a Nonne, For thogh I hadde hir love wonne, It myhte into no pris amonte, So therof sette I non acompte. Ye mai wel axe of this and that, Bot sothli forto telle plat, 180 In al this world ther is bot on The which myn herte hath overgon; I am toward alle othre fre. Full wel, mi Sone, nou I see Thi word stant evere upon o place, Bot yit therof thou hast a grace, That thou thee myht so wel excuse Of love such as som men use, So as I spak of now tofore. For al such time of love is lore, 190 And lich unto the bitterswete; For thogh it thenke a man ferst swete, He schal wel fielen ate laste That it is sour and may noght laste. For as a morsell envenimed, So hath such love his lust mistimed, And grete ensamples manyon A man mai finde therupon. At Rome ferst if we beginne, Ther schal I finde hou of this sinne 200 An Emperour was forto blame, Gayus Caligula be name, Which of his oghne Sostres thre Berefte the virginite: And whanne he hadde hem so forlein, As he the which was al vilein, He dede hem out of londe exile. Bot afterward withinne a while God hath beraft him in his ire His lif and ek his large empire: 210 And thus for likinge of a throwe For evere his lust was overthrowe. Of this sotie also I finde, Amon his Soster ayein kinde, Which hihte Thamar, he forlay; Bot he that lust an other day Aboghte, whan that Absolon His oghne brother therupon, Of that he hadde his Soster schent, Tok of that Senne vengement 220 And slowh him with his oghne hond: And thus thunkinde unkinde fond. And forto se more of this thing, The bible makth a knowleching, Wherof thou miht take evidence Upon the sothe experience. Whan Lothes wif was overgon And schape into the salte Ston, As it is spoke into this day, Be bothe hise dowhtres thanne he lay, 230 With childe and made hem bothe grete, Til that nature hem wolde lete, And so the cause aboute ladde That ech of hem a Sone hadde, Moab the ferste, and the seconde Amon, of whiche, as it is founde, Cam afterward to gret encres Tuo nacions: and natheles, For that the stockes were ungoode, The branches mihten noght be goode; 240 For of the false Moabites Forth with the strengthe of Amonites, Of that thei weren ferst misgete, The poeple of god was ofte upsete In Irahel and in Judee, As in the bible a man mai se. Lo thus, my Sone, as I thee seie, Thou miht thiselve be beseie Of that thou hast of othre herd: For evere yit it hath so ferd, 250 Of loves lust if so befalle That it in other place falle Than it is of the lawe set, He which his love hath so beset Mote afterward repente him sore. And every man is othres lore; Of that befell in time er this The present time which now is May ben enformed hou it stod, And take that him thenketh good, 260 And leve that which is noght so. Bot forto loke of time go, Hou lust of love excedeth lawe, It oghte forto be withdrawe; For every man it scholde drede, And nameliche in his Sibrede, Which torneth ofte to vengance: Wherof a tale in remembrance, Which is a long process to hiere, I thenke forto tellen hiere. 270 Of a Cronique in daies gon, The which is cleped Pantheon, In loves cause I rede thus, Hou that the grete Antiochus, Of whom that Antioche tok His ferste name, as seith the bok, Was coupled to a noble queene, And hadde a dowhter hem betwene: Bot such fortune cam to honde, That deth, which no king mai withstonde, 280 Bot every lif it mote obeie, This worthi queene tok aweie. The king, which made mochel mone, Tho stod, as who seith, al him one Withoute wif, bot natheles His doghter, which was piereles Of beaute, duelte aboute him stille. Bot whanne a man hath welthe at wille, The fleissh is frele and falleth ofte, And that this maide tendre and softe, 290 Which in hire fadres chambres duelte, Withinne a time wiste and felte: For likinge and concupiscence Withoute insihte of conscience The fader so with lustes blente, That he caste al his hole entente His oghne doghter forto spille. This king hath leisir at his wille With strengthe, and whanne he time sih, This yonge maiden he forlih: 300 And sche was tendre and full of drede, Sche couthe noght hir Maidenhede Defende, and thus sche hath forlore The flour which she hath longe bore. It helpeth noght althogh sche wepe, For thei that scholde hir bodi kepe Of wommen were absent as thanne; And thus this maiden goth to manne, The wylde fader thus devoureth His oghne fleissh, which non socoureth, 310 And that was cause of mochel care. Bot after this unkinde fare Out of the chambre goth the king, And sche lay stille, and of this thing, Withinne hirself such sorghe made, Ther was no wiht that mihte hir glade, For feere of thilke horrible vice. With that cam inne the Norrice Which fro childhode hire hadde kept, And axeth if sche hadde slept, 320 And why hire chiere was unglad. Bot sche, which hath ben overlad Of that sche myhte noght be wreke, For schame couthe unethes speke; And natheles mercy sche preide With wepende yhe and thus sche seide: "Helas, mi Soster, waileway, That evere I sih this ilke day! Thing which mi bodi ferst begat Into this world, onliche that 330 Mi worldes worschipe hath bereft." With that sche swouneth now and eft, And evere wissheth after deth, So that welnyh hire lacketh breth. That other, which hire wordes herde, In confortinge of hire ansuerde, To lette hire fadres fol desir Sche wiste no recoverir: Whan thing is do, ther is no bote, So suffren thei that suffre mote; 340 Ther was non other which it wiste. Thus hath this king al that him liste Of his likinge and his plesance, And laste in such continuance, And such delit he tok therinne, Him thoghte that it was no Sinne; And sche dorste him nothing withseie. Bot fame, which goth every weie, To sondry regnes al aboute The grete beaute telleth oute 350 Of such a maide of hih parage: So that for love of mariage The worthi Princes come and sende, As thei the whiche al honour wende, And knewe nothing hou it stod. The fader, whanne he understod, That thei his dowhter thus besoghte, With al his wit he caste and thoghte Hou that he myhte finde a lette; And such a Statut thanne he sette, 360 And in this wise his lawe he taxeth, That what man that his doghter axeth, Bot if he couthe his question Assoile upon suggestion Of certein thinges that befelle, The whiche he wolde unto him telle, He scholde in certein lese his hed. And thus ther weren manye ded, Here hevedes stondende on the gate, Till ate laste longe and late, 370 For lacke of ansuere in the wise, The remenant that weren wise Eschuieden to make assay. Til it befell upon a day Appolinus the Prince of Tyr, Which hath to love a gret desir, As he which in his hihe mod Was likende of his hote blod, A yong, a freissh, a lusti knyht, As he lai musende on a nyht 380 Of the tidinges whiche he herde, He thoghte assaie hou that it ferde. He was with worthi compainie Arraied, and with good navie To schipe he goth, the wynd him dryveth, And seileth, til that he arryveth: Sauf in the port of Antioche He londeth, and goth to aproche The kinges Court and his presence. Of every naturel science, 390 Which eny clerk him couthe teche, He couthe ynowh, and in his speche Of wordes he was eloquent; And whanne he sih the king present, He preith he moste his dowhter have. The king ayein began to crave, And tolde him the condicion, Hou ferst unto his question He mote ansuere and faile noght, Or with his heved it schal be boght: 400 And he him axeth what it was. The king declareth him the cas With sturne lok and sturdi chiere, To him and seide in this manere: "With felonie I am upbore, I ete and have it noght forbore Mi modres fleissh, whos housebonde Mi fader forto seche I fonde, Which is the Sone ek of my wif. Hierof I am inquisitif; 410 And who that can mi tale save, Al quyt he schal my doghter have; Of his ansuere and if he faile, He schal be ded withoute faile. Forthi my Sone," quod the king, "Be wel avised of this thing, Which hath thi lif in jeupartie." Appolinus for his partie, Whan he this question hath herd, Unto the king he hath ansuerd 420 And hath rehersed on and on The pointz, and seide therupon: "The question which thou hast spoke, If thou wolt that it be unloke, It toucheth al the privete Betwen thin oghne child and thee, And stant al hol upon you tuo." The king was wonder sory tho, And thoghte, if that he seide it oute, Than were he schamed al aboute. 430 With slihe wordes and with felle He seith, "Mi Sone, I schal thee telle, Though that thou be of litel wit, It is no gret merveile as yit, Thin age mai it noght suffise: Bot loke wel thou noght despise Thin oghne lif, for of my grace Of thretty daies fulle a space I grante thee, to ben avised." And thus with leve and time assised 440 This yonge Prince forth he wente, And understod wel what it mente, Withinne his herte as he was lered, That forto maken him afered The king his time hath so deslaied. Wherof he dradde and was esmaied, Of treson that he deie scholde, For he the king his sothe tolde; And sodeinly the nyhtes tyde, That more wolde he noght abide, 450 Al prively his barge he hente And hom ayein to Tyr he wente: And in his oghne wit he seide For drede, if he the king bewreide, He knew so wel the kinges herte, That deth ne scholde he noght asterte, The king him wolde so poursuie. Bot he, that wolde his deth eschuie, And knew al this tofor the hond, Forsake he thoghte his oghne lond, 460 That there wolde he noght abyde; For wel he knew that on som syde This tirant of his felonie Be som manere of tricherie To grieve his bodi wol noght leve. Forthi withoute take leve, Als priveliche as evere he myhte, He goth him to the See be nyhte In Schipes that be whete laden: Here takel redy tho thei maden 470 And hale up Seil and forth thei fare. Bot forto tellen of the care That thei of Tyr begonne tho, Whan that thei wiste he was ago, It is a Pite forto hiere. They losten lust, they losten chiere, Thei toke upon hem such penaunce, Ther was no song, ther was no daunce, Bot every merthe and melodie To hem was thanne a maladie; 480 For unlust of that aventure Ther was noman which tok tonsure, In doelful clothes thei hem clothe, The bathes and the Stwes bothe Thei schetten in be every weie; There was no lif which leste pleie Ne take of eny joie kepe, Bot for here liege lord to wepe; And every wyht seide as he couthe, "Helas, the lusti flour of youthe, 490 Our Prince, oure heved, our governour, Thurgh whom we stoden in honour, Withoute the comun assent Thus sodeinliche is fro ous went!" Such was the clamour of hem alle. Bot se we now what is befalle Upon the ferste tale plein, And torne we therto ayein. Antiochus the grete Sire, Which full of rancour and of ire 500 His herte berth, so as ye herde, Of that this Prince of Tyr ansuerde, He hadde a feloun bacheler, Which was his prive consailer, And Taliart be name he hihte: The king a strong puison him dihte Withinne a buiste and gold therto, In alle haste and bad him go Strawht unto Tyr, and for no cost Ne spare he, til he hadde lost 510 The Prince which he wolde spille. And whan the king hath seid his wille, This Taliart in a Galeie With alle haste he tok his weie: The wynd was good, he saileth blyve, Til he tok lond upon the ryve Of Tyr, and forth with al anon Into the Burgh he gan to gon, And tok his In and bod a throwe. Bot for he wolde noght be knowe, 520 Desguised thanne he goth him oute; He sih the wepinge al aboute, And axeth what the cause was, And thei him tolden al the cas, How sodeinli the Prince is go. And whan he sih that it was so, And that his labour was in vein, Anon he torneth hom ayein, And to the king, whan he cam nyh, He tolde of that he herde and syh, 530 Hou that the Prince of Tyr is fled, So was he come ayein unsped. The king was sori for a while, Bot whan he sih that with no wyle He myhte achieve his crualte, He stinte his wraththe and let him be. Bot over this now forto telle Of aventures that befelle Unto this Prince of whom I tolde, He hath his rihte cours forth holde 540 Be Ston and nedle, til he cam To Tharse, and there his lond he nam. A Burgeis riche of gold and fee Was thilke time in that cite, Which cleped was Strangulio, His wif was Dionise also: This yonge Prince, as seith the bok, With hem his herbergage tok; And it befell that Cite so Before time and thanne also, 550 Thurgh strong famyne which hem ladde Was non that eny whete hadde. Appolinus, whan that he herde The meschief, hou the cite ferde, Al freliche of his oghne yifte His whete, among hem forto schifte, The which be Schipe he hadde broght, He yaf, and tok of hem riht noght. Bot sithen ferst this world began, Was nevere yit to such a man 560 Mor joie mad than thei him made: For thei were alle of him so glade, That thei for evere in remembrance Made a figure in resemblance Of him, and in the comun place Thei sette him up, so that his face Mihte every maner man beholde, So as the cite was beholde; It was of latoun overgilt: Thus hath he noght his yifte spilt. 570 Upon a time with his route This lord to pleie goth him oute, And in his weie of Tyr he mette A man, the which on knees him grette, And Hellican be name he hihte, Which preide his lord to have insihte Upon himself, and seide him thus, Hou that the grete Antiochus Awaiteth if he mihte him spille. That other thoghte and hield him stille, 580 And thonked him of his warnynge, And bad him telle no tidinge, Whan he to Tyr cam hom ayein, That he in Tharse him hadde sein. Fortune hath evere be muable And mai no while stonde stable: For now it hiheth, now it loweth, Now stant upriht, now overthroweth, Now full of blisse and now of bale, As in the tellinge of mi tale 590 Hierafterward a man mai liere, Which is gret routhe forto hiere. This lord, which wolde don his beste, Withinne himself hath litel reste, And thoghte he wolde his place change And seche a contre more strange. Of Tharsiens his leve anon He tok, and is to Schipe gon: His cours he nam with Seil updrawe, Where as fortune doth the lawe, 600 And scheweth, as I schal reherse, How sche was to this lord diverse, The which upon the See sche ferketh. The wynd aros, the weder derketh, It blew and made such tempeste, Non ancher mai the schip areste, Which hath tobroken al his gere; The Schipmen stode in such a feere, Was non that myhte himself bestere, Bot evere awaite upon the lere, 610 Whan that thei scholde drenche at ones. Ther was ynowh withinne wones Of wepinge and of sorghe tho; This yonge king makth mochel wo So forto se the Schip travaile: Bot al that myhte him noght availe; The mast tobrak, the Seil torof, The Schip upon the wawes drof, Til that thei sihe a londes cooste. Tho made avou the leste and moste, 620 Be so thei myhten come alonde; Bot he which hath the See on honde, Neptunus, wolde noght acorde, Bot altobroke cable and corde, Er thei to londe myhte aproche, The Schip toclef upon a roche, And al goth doun into the depe. Bot he that alle thing mai kepe Unto this lord was merciable, And broghte him sauf upon a table, 630 Which to the lond him hath upbore; The remenant was al forlore, Wherof he made mochel mone. Thus was this yonge lord him one, Al naked in a povere plit: His colour, which whilom was whyt, Was thanne of water fade and pale, And ek he was so sore acale That he wiste of himself no bote, It halp him nothing forto mote 640 To gete ayein that he hath lore. Bot sche which hath his deth forbore, Fortune, thogh sche wol noght yelpe, Al sodeinly hath sent him helpe, Whanne him thoghte alle grace aweie; Ther cam a Fisshere in the weie, And sih a man ther naked stonde, And whan that he hath understonde The cause, he hath of him gret routhe, And onliche of his povere trouthe 650 Of suche clothes as he hadde With gret Pite this lord he cladde. And he him thonketh as he scholde, And seith him that it schal be yolde, If evere he gete his stat ayein, And preide that he wolde him sein If nyh were eny toun for him. He seide, "Yee, Pentapolim, Wher bothe king and queene duellen." Whanne he this tale herde tellen, 660 He gladeth him and gan beseche That he the weie him wolde teche: And he him taghte; and forth he wente And preide god with good entente To sende him joie after his sorwe. It was noght passed yit Midmorwe, Whan thiderward his weie he nam, Wher sone upon the Non he cam. He eet such as he myhte gete, And forth anon, whan he hadde ete, 670 He goth to se the toun aboute, And cam ther as he fond a route Of yonge lusti men withalle; And as it scholde tho befalle, That day was set of such assisse, That thei scholde in the londes guise, As he herde of the poeple seie, Here comun game thanne pleie; And crid was that thei scholden come Unto the gamen alle and some 680 Of hem that ben delivere and wyhte, To do such maistrie as thei myhte. Thei made hem naked as thei scholde, For so that ilke game wolde, As it was tho custume and us, Amonges hem was no refus: The flour of al the toun was there And of the court also ther were, And that was in a large place Riht evene afore the kinges face, 690 Which Artestrathes thanne hihte. The pley was pleid riht in his sihte, And who most worthi was of dede Receive he scholde a certein mede And in the cite bere a pris. Appolinus, which war and wys Of every game couthe an ende, He thoghte assaie, hou so it wende, And fell among hem into game: And there he wan him such a name, 700 So as the king himself acompteth That he alle othre men surmonteth, And bar the pris above hem alle. The king bad that into his halle At Souper time he schal be broght; And he cam thanne and lefte it noght, Withoute compaignie al one: Was non so semlich of persone, Of visage and of limes bothe, If that he hadde what to clothe. 710 At Soupertime natheles The king amiddes al the pres Let clepe him up among hem alle, And bad his Mareschall of halle To setten him in such degre That he upon him myhte se. The king was sone set and served, And he, which hath his pris deserved After the kinges oghne word, Was mad beginne a Middel bord, 720 That bothe king and queene him sihe. He sat and caste aboute his yhe And sih the lordes in astat, And with himself wax in debat Thenkende what he hadde lore, And such a sorwe he tok therfore, That he sat evere stille and thoghte, As he which of no mete roghte. The king behield his hevynesse, And of his grete gentillesse 730 His doghter, which was fair and good And ate bord before him stod, As it was thilke time usage, He bad to gon on his message And fonde forto make him glad. And sche dede as hire fader bad, And goth to him the softe pas And axeth whenne and what he was, And preith he scholde his thoghtes leve. He seith, "Ma Dame, be your leve 740 Mi name is hote Appolinus, And of mi richesse it is thus, Upon the See I have it lore. The contre wher as I was bore, Wher that my lond is and mi rente, I lefte at Tyr, whan that I wente: The worschipe of this worldes aghte, Unto the god ther I betaghte." And thus togedre as thei tuo speeke, The teres runne be his cheeke. 750 The king, which therof tok good kepe, Hath gret Pite to sen him wepe, And for his doghter sende ayein, And preide hir faire and gan to sein That sche no lengere wolde drecche, Bot that sche wolde anon forth fecche Hire harpe and don al that sche can To glade with that sory man. And sche to don hir fader heste Hir harpe fette, and in the feste 760 Upon a Chaier which thei fette Hirself next to this man sche sette: With harpe bothe and ek with mouthe To him sche dede al that sche couthe To make him chiere, and evere he siketh, And sche him axeth hou him liketh. "Ma dame, certes wel," he seide, "Bot if ye the mesure pleide Which, if you list, I schal you liere, It were a glad thing forto hiere." 770 "Ha, lieve sire," tho quod sche, "Now tak the harpe and let me se Of what mesure that ye mene." Tho preith the king, tho preith the queene, Forth with the lordes alle arewe, That he som merthe wolde schewe; He takth the Harpe and in his wise He tempreth, and of such assise Singende he harpeth forth withal, That as a vois celestial 780 Hem thoghte it souneth in here Ere, As thogh that he an Angel were. Thei gladen of his melodie, Bot most of alle the compainie The kinges doghter, which it herde, And thoghte ek hou that he ansuerde, Whan that he was of hire opposed, Withinne hir herte hath wel supposed That he is of gret gentilesse. Hise dedes ben therof witnesse 790 Forth with the wisdom of his lore; It nedeth noght to seche more, He myhte noght have such manere, Of gentil blod bot if he were. Whanne he hath harped al his fille, The kinges heste to fulfille, Awey goth dissh, awey goth cuppe, Doun goth the bord, the cloth was uppe, Thei risen and gon out of halle. The king his chamberlein let calle, 800 And bad that he be alle weie A chambre for this man pourveie, Which nyh his oghne chambre be. "It schal be do, mi lord," quod he. Appolinus of whom I mene Tho tok his leve of king and queene And of the worthi Maide also, Which preide unto hir fader tho, That sche myhte of that yonge man Of tho sciences whiche he can 810 His lore have; and in this wise The king hir granteth his aprise, So that himself therto assente. Thus was acorded er thei wente, That he with al that evere he may This yonge faire freisshe May Of that he couthe scholde enforme; And full assented in this forme Thei token leve as for that nyht. And whanne it was amorwe lyht, 820 Unto this yonge man of Tyr Of clothes and of good atir With gold and Selver to despende This worthi yonge lady sende: And thus sche made him wel at ese, And he with al that he can plese Hire serveth wel and faire ayein. He tawhte hir til sche was certein Of Harpe, of Citole and of Rote, With many a tun and many a note 830 Upon Musique, upon mesure, And of hire Harpe the temprure He tawhte hire ek, as he wel couthe. Bot as men sein that frele is youthe, With leisir and continuance This Mayde fell upon a chance, That love hath mad him a querele Ayein hire youthe freissh and frele, That malgre wher sche wole or noght, Sche mot with al hire hertes thoght 840 To love and to his lawe obeie; And that sche schal ful sore abeie. For sche wot nevere what it is, Bot evere among sche fieleth this: Thenkende upon this man of Tyr, Hire herte is hot as eny fyr, And otherwhile it is acale; Now is sche red, nou is sche pale Riht after the condicion Of hire ymaginacion; 850 Bot evere among hire thoghtes alle, Sche thoghte, what so mai befalle, Or that sche lawhe, or that sche wepe, Sche wolde hire goode name kepe For feere of wommanysshe schame. Bot what in ernest and in game, Sche stant for love in such a plit, That sche hath lost al appetit Of mete, of drinke, of nyhtes reste, As sche that not what is the beste; 860 Bot forto thenken al hir fille Sche hield hire ofte times stille Withinne hir chambre, and goth noght oute: The king was of hire lif in doute, Which wiste nothing what it mente. Bot fell a time, as he out wente To walke, of Princes Sones thre Ther come and felle to his kne; And ech of hem in sondri wise Besoghte and profreth his servise, 870 So that he myhte his doghter have. The king, which wolde his honour save, Seith sche is siek, and of that speche Tho was no time to beseche; Bot ech of hem do make a bille He bad, and wryte his oghne wille, His name, his fader and his good; And whan sche wiste hou that it stod, And hadde here billes oversein, Thei scholden have ansuere ayein. 880 Of this conseil thei weren glad, And writen as the king hem bad, And every man his oghne bok Into the kinges hond betok, And he it to his dowhter sende, And preide hir forto make an ende And wryte ayein hire oghne hond, Riht as sche in hire herte fond. The billes weren wel received, Bot sche hath alle here loves weyved, 890 And thoghte tho was time and space To put hire in hir fader grace, And wrot ayein and thus sche saide: "The schame which is in a Maide With speche dar noght ben unloke, Bot in writinge it mai be spoke; So wryte I to you, fader, thus: Bot if I have Appolinus, Of al this world, what so betyde, I wol non other man abide. 900 And certes if I of him faile, I wot riht wel withoute faile Ye schull for me be dowhterles." This lettre cam, and ther was press Tofore the king, ther as he stod; And whan that he it understod, He yaf hem ansuer by and by, Bot that was do so prively, That non of othres conseil wiste. Thei toke her leve, and wher hem liste 910 Thei wente forth upon here weie. The king ne wolde noght bewreie The conseil for no maner hihe, Bot soffreth til he time sihe: And whan that he to chambre is come, He hath unto his conseil nome This man of Tyr, and let him se The lettre and al the privete, The which his dowhter to him sente: And he his kne to grounde bente 920 And thonketh him and hire also, And er thei wenten thanne atuo, With good herte and with good corage Of full Love and full mariage The king and he ben hol acorded. And after, whanne it was recorded Unto the dowhter hou it stod, The yifte of al this worldes good Ne scholde have mad hir half so blythe: And forth withal the king als swithe, 930 For he wol have hire good assent, Hath for the queene hir moder sent. The queene is come, and whan sche herde Of this matiere hou that it ferde, Sche syh debat, sche syh desese, Bot if sche wolde hir dowhter plese, And is therto assented full. Which is a dede wonderfull, For noman knew the sothe cas Bot he himself, what man he was; 940 And natheles, so as hem thoghte, Hise dedes to the sothe wroghte That he was come of gentil blod: Him lacketh noght bot worldes good, And as therof is no despeir, For sche schal ben hire fader heir, And he was able to governe. Thus wol thei noght the love werne Of him and hire in none wise, Bot ther acorded thei divise 950 The day and time of Mariage. Wher love is lord of the corage, Him thenketh longe er that he spede; Bot ate laste unto the dede The time is come, and in her wise With gret offrende and sacrifise Thei wedde and make a riche feste, And every thing which was honeste Withinnen house and ek withoute It was so don, that al aboute 960 Of gret worschipe, of gret noblesse Ther cride many a man largesse Unto the lordes hihe and loude; The knyhtes that ben yonge and proude, Thei jouste ferst and after daunce. The day is go, the nyhtes chaunce Hath derked al the bryhte Sonne; This lord, which hath his love wonne, Is go to bedde with his wif, Wher as thei ladde a lusti lif, 970 And that was after somdel sene, For as thei pleiden hem betwene, Thei gete a child betwen hem tuo, To whom fell after mochel wo. Now have I told of the spousailes. Bot forto speke of the mervailes Whiche afterward to hem befelle, It is a wonder forto telle. It fell adai thei riden oute, The king and queene and al the route, 980 To pleien hem upon the stronde, Wher as thei sen toward the londe A Schip sailende of gret array. To knowe what it mene may, Til it be come thei abide; Than sen thei stonde on every side, Endlong the schipes bord to schewe, Of Penonceals a riche rewe. Thei axen when the ship is come: Fro Tyr, anon ansuerde some, 990 And over this thei seiden more The cause why thei comen fore Was forto seche and forto finde Appolinus, which was of kinde Her liege lord: and he appiereth, And of the tale which he hiereth He was riht glad; for thei him tolde, That for vengance, as god it wolde, Antiochus, as men mai wite, With thondre and lyhthnynge is forsmite; 1000 His doghter hath the same chaunce, So be thei bothe in o balance. "Forthi, oure liege lord, we seie In name of al the lond, and preie, That left al other thing to done, It like you to come sone And se youre oghne liege men With othre that ben of youre ken, That live in longinge and desir Til ye be come ayein to Tyr." 1010 This tale after the king it hadde Pentapolim al overspradde, Ther was no joie forto seche; For every man it hadde in speche And seiden alle of on acord, "A worthi king schal ben oure lord: That thoghte ous ferst an hevinesse Is schape ous now to gret gladnesse." Thus goth the tidinge overal. Bot nede he mot, that nede schal: 1020 Appolinus his leve tok, To god and al the lond betok With al the poeple long and brod, That he no lenger there abod. The king and queene sorwe made, Bot yit somdiel thei weren glade Of such thing as thei herden tho: And thus betwen the wel and wo To schip he goth, his wif with childe, The which was evere meke and mylde 1030 And wolde noght departe him fro, Such love was betwen hem tuo. Lichorida for hire office Was take, which was a Norrice, To wende with this yonge wif, To whom was schape a woful lif. Withinne a time, as it betidde, Whan thei were in the See amidde, Out of the North they sihe a cloude; The storm aros, the wyndes loude 1040 Thei blewen many a dredful blast, The welkne was al overcast, The derke nyht the Sonne hath under, Ther was a gret tempeste of thunder: The Mone and ek the Sterres bothe In blake cloudes thei hem clothe, Wherof here brihte lok thei hyde. This yonge ladi wepte and cride, To whom no confort myhte availe; Of childe sche began travaile, 1050 Wher sche lay in a Caban clos: Hire woful lord fro hire aros, And that was longe er eny morwe, So that in anguisse and in sorwe Sche was delivered al be nyhte And ded in every mannes syhte; Bot natheles for al this wo A maide child was bore tho. Appolinus whan he this knew, For sorwe a swoune he overthrew, 1060 That noman wiste in him no lif. And whanne he wok, he seide, "Ha, wif, Mi lust, mi joie, my desir, Mi welthe and my recoverir, Why schal I live, and thou schalt dye? Ha, thou fortune, I thee deffie, Nou hast thou do to me thi werste. Ha, herte, why ne wolt thou berste, That forth with hire I myhte passe? Mi peines weren wel the lasse." 1070 In such wepinge and in such cry His dede wif, which lay him by, A thousend sithes he hire kiste; Was nevere man that sih ne wiste A sorwe unto his sorwe lich; For evere among upon the lich He fell swounende, as he that soghte His oghne deth, which he besoghte Unto the goddes alle above With many a pitous word of love; 1080 Bot suche wordes as tho were Yit herde nevere mannes Ere, Bot only thilke whiche he seide. The Maister Schipman cam and preide With othre suche as be therinne, And sein that he mai nothing winne Ayein the deth, bot thei him rede, He be wel war and tak hiede, The See be weie of his nature Receive mai no creature 1090 Withinne himself as forto holde, The which is ded: forthi thei wolde, As thei conseilen al aboute, The dede body casten oute. For betre it is, thei seiden alle, That it of hire so befalle, Than if thei scholden alle spille. The king, which understod here wille And knew here conseil that was trewe, Began ayein his sorwe newe 1100 With pitous herte, and thus to seie: "It is al reson that ye preie. I am," quod he, "bot on al one, So wolde I noght for mi persone Ther felle such adversite. Bot whan it mai no betre be, Doth thanne thus upon my word, Let make a cofre strong of bord, That it be ferm with led and pich." Anon was mad a cofre sich, 1110 Al redy broght unto his hond; And whanne he sih and redy fond This cofre mad and wel enclowed, The dede bodi was besowed In cloth of gold and leid therinne. And for he wolde unto hire winne Upon som cooste a Sepulture, Under hire heved in aventure Of gold he leide Sommes grete And of jeueals a strong beyete 1120 Forth with a lettre, and seide thus: "I, king of Tyr Appollinus, Do alle maner men to wite, That hiere and se this lettre write, That helpeles withoute red Hier lith a kinges doghter ded: And who that happeth hir to finde, For charite tak in his mynde, And do so that sche be begrave With this tresor, which he schal have." 1130 Thus whan the lettre was full spoke, Thei haue anon the cofre stoke, And bounden it with yren faste, That it may with the wawes laste, And stoppen it be such a weie, That it schal be withinne dreie, So that no water myhte it grieve. And thus in hope and good believe Of that the corps schal wel aryve, Thei caste it over bord als blyve. 1140 The Schip forth on the wawes wente; The prince hath changed his entente, And seith he wol noght come at Tyr As thanne, bot al his desir Is ferst to seilen unto Tharse. The wyndy Storm began to skarse, The Sonne arist, the weder cliereth, The Schipman which behinde stiereth, Whan that he sih the wyndes saghte, Towardes Tharse his cours he straghte. 1150 Bot now to mi matiere ayein, To telle as olde bokes sein, This dede corps of which ye knowe With wynd and water was forthrowe Now hier, now ther, til ate laste At Ephesim the See upcaste The cofre and al that was therinne. Of gret merveile now beginne Mai hiere who that sitteth stille; That god wol save mai noght spille. 1160 Riht as the corps was throwe alonde, Ther cam walkende upon the stronde A worthi clerc, a Surgien, And ek a gret Phisicien, Of al that lond the wisest on, Which hihte Maister Cerymon; Ther were of his disciples some. This Maister to the Cofre is come, He peiseth ther was somwhat in, And bad hem bere it to his In, 1170 And goth himselve forth withal. Al that schal falle, falle schal; Thei comen hom and tarie noght; This Cofre is into chambre broght, Which that thei finde faste stoke, Bot thei with craft it have unloke. Thei loken in, where as thei founde A bodi ded, which was bewounde In cloth of gold, as I seide er, The tresor ek thei founden ther 1180 Forth with the lettre, which thei rede. And tho thei token betre hiede; Unsowed was the bodi sone, And he, which knew what is to done, This noble clerk, with alle haste Began the veines forto taste, And sih hire Age was of youthe, And with the craftes whiche he couthe He soghte and fond a signe of lif. With that this worthi kinges wif 1190 Honestely thei token oute, And maden fyres al aboute; Thei leide hire on a couche softe, And with a scheete warmed ofte Hire colde brest began to hete, Hire herte also to flacke and bete. This Maister hath hire every joignt With certein oile and balsme enoignt, And putte a liquour in hire mouth, Which is to fewe clerkes couth, 1200 So that sche coevereth ate laste; And ferst hire yhen up sche caste, And whan sche more of strengthe cawhte, Hire Armes bothe forth sche strawhte, Hield up hire hond and pitously Sche spak and seide, "Ha, wher am I? Where is my lord, what world is this?" As sche that wot noght hou it is. Bot Cerymon the worthi leche Ansuerde anon upon hire speche 1210 And seith, "Ma dame, yee ben hiere, Where yee be sauf, as yee schal hiere Hierafterward; forthi as nou Mi conseil is, conforteth you: For trusteth wel withoute faile, Ther is nothing which schal you faile, That oghte of reson to be do." Thus passen thei a day or tuo; Thei speke of noght as for an ende, Til sche began somdiel amende, 1220 And wiste hireselven what sche mente. Tho forto knowe hire hol entente, This Maister axeth al the cas, Hou sche cam there and what sche was. "Hou I cam hiere wot I noght," Quod sche, "bot wel I am bethoght Of othre thinges al aboute": Fro point to point and tolde him oute Als ferforthli as sche it wiste. And he hire tolde hou in a kiste 1230 The See hire threw upon the lond, And what tresor with hire he fond, Which was al redy at hire wille, As he that schop him to fulfille With al his myht what thing he scholde. Sche thonketh him that he so wolde, And al hire herte sche discloseth, And seith him wel that sche supposeth Hire lord be dreint, hir child also; So sih sche noght bot alle wo. 1240 Wherof as to the world nomore Ne wol sche torne, and preith therfore That in som temple of the Cite, To kepe and holde hir chastete, Sche mihte among the wommen duelle. Whan he this tale hir herde telle, He was riht glad, and made hire knowen That he a dowhter of his owen Hath, which he wol unto hir yive To serve, whil thei bothe live, 1250 In stede of that which sche hath lost; Al only at his oghne cost Sche schal be rendred forth with hire. She seith, "Grant mercy, lieve sire, God quite it you, ther I ne may." And thus thei drive forth the day, Til time com that sche was hol; And tho thei take her conseil hol, To schape upon good ordinance And make a worthi pourveance 1260 Ayein the day whan thei be veiled. And thus, whan that thei be conseiled, In blake clothes thei hem clothe, This lady and the dowhter bothe, And yolde hem to religion. The feste and the profession After the reule of that degre Was mad with gret solempnete, Where as Diane is seintefied; Thus stant this lady justefied 1270 In ordre wher sche thenkth to duelle. Bot now ayeinward forto telle In what plit that hire lord stod inne: He seileth, til that he may winne The havene of Tharse, as I seide er; And whanne he was aryved ther, And it was thurgh the Cite knowe, Men myhte se withinne a throwe, As who seith, al the toun at ones, That come ayein him for the nones, 1280 To yiven him the reverence, So glad thei were of his presence: And thogh he were in his corage Desesed, yit with glad visage He made hem chiere, and to his In, Wher he whilom sojourned in, He goth him straght and was resceived. And whan the presse of poeple is weived, He takth his hoste unto him tho, And seith, "Mi frend Strangulio, 1290 Lo, thus and thus it is befalle, And thou thiself art on of alle, Forth with thi wif, whiche I most triste. Forthi, if it you bothe liste, My doghter Thaise be youre leve I thenke schal with you beleve As for a time; and thus I preie, That sche be kept be alle weie, And whan sche hath of age more, That sche be set to bokes lore. 1300 And this avou to god I make, That I schal nevere for hir sake Mi berd for no likinge schave, Til it befalle that I have In covenable time of age Beset hire unto mariage." Thus thei acorde, and al is wel, And forto resten him somdel, As for a while he ther sojorneth, And thanne he takth his leve and torneth 1310 To Schipe, and goth him hom to Tyr, Wher every man with gret desir Awaiteth upon his comynge. Bot whan the Schip com in seilinge, And thei perceiven it is he, Was nevere yit in no cite Such joie mad as thei tho made; His herte also began to glade Of that he sih the poeple glad. Lo, thus fortune his hap hath lad; 1320 In sondri wise he was travailed, Bot hou so evere he be assailed, His latere ende schal be good. And forto speke hou that it stod Of Thaise his doghter, wher sche duelleth, In Tharse, as the Cronique telleth, Sche was wel kept, sche was wel loked, Sche was wel tawht, sche was wel boked, So wel sche spedde hir in hire youthe That sche of every wisdom couthe, 1330 That forto seche in every lond So wys an other noman fond, Ne so wel tawht at mannes yhe. Bot wo worthe evere fals envie! For it befell that time so, A dowhter hath Strangulio, The which was cleped Philotenne: Bot fame, which wole evere renne, Cam al day to hir moder Ere, And seith, wher evere hir doghter were 1340 With Thayse set in eny place, The comun vois, the comun grace Was al upon that other Maide, And of hir doghter noman saide. Who wroth but Dionise thanne? Hire thoghte a thousend yer til whanne Sche myhte ben of Thaise wreke Of that sche herde folk so speke. And fell that ilke same tyde, That ded was trewe Lychoride, 1350 Which hadde be servant to Thaise, So that sche was the worse at aise, For sche hath thanne no servise Bot only thurgh this Dionise, Which was hire dedlich Anemie Thurgh pure treson and envie. Sche, that of alle sorwe can, Tho spak unto hire bondeman, Which cleped was Theophilus, And made him swere in conseil thus, 1360 That he such time as sche him sette Schal come Thaise forto fette, And lede hire oute of alle sihte, Wher as noman hire helpe myhte, Upon the Stronde nyh the See, And there he schal this maiden sle. This cherles herte is in a traunce, As he which drad him of vengance Whan time comth an other day; Bot yit dorste he noght seie nay, 1370 Bot swor and seide he schal fulfille Hire hestes at hire oghne wille. The treson and the time is schape, So fell it that this cherles knape Hath lad this maiden ther he wolde Upon the Stronde, and what sche scholde Sche was adrad; and he out breide A rusti swerd and to hir seide, "Thou schalt be ded." "Helas!" quod sche, "Why schal I so?" "Lo thus," quod he, 1380 "Mi ladi Dionise hath bede, Thou schalt be moerdred in this stede." This Maiden tho for feere schryhte, And for the love of god almyhte Sche preith that for a litel stounde Sche myhte knele upon the grounde, Toward the hevene forto crave, Hire wofull Soule if sche mai save: And with this noise and with this cry, Out of a barge faste by, 1390 Which hidd was ther on Scomerfare, Men sterten out and weren ware Of this feloun,and he to go, And sche began to crie tho, "Ha, mercy, help for goddes sake! Into the barge thei hire take, As thieves scholde, and forth thei wente. Upon the See the wynd hem hente, And malgre wher thei wolde or non, Tofor the weder forth thei gon, 1400 Ther halp no Seil, ther halp non Ore, Forstormed and forblowen sore In gret peril so forth thei dryve, Til ate laste thei aryve At Mitelene the Cite. In havene sauf and whan thei be, The Maister Schipman made him boun, And goth him out into the toun, And profreth Thaise forto selle. On Leonin it herde telle, 1410 Which Maister of the bordel was, And bad him gon a redy pas To fetten hire, and forth he wente, And Thaise out of his barge he hente, And to this bordeller hir solde. And he, that be hire body wolde Take avantage, let do crye, That what man wolde his lecherie Attempte upon hire maidenhede, Lei doun the gold and he schal spede. 1420 And thus whan he hath crid it oute In syhte of al the poeple aboute, He ladde hire to the bordel tho. No wonder is thogh sche be wo: Clos in a chambre be hireselve, Ech after other ten or tuelve Of yonge men to hire in wente; Bot such a grace god hire sente, That for the sorwe which sche made Was non of hem which pouer hade 1430 To don hire eny vileinie. This Leonin let evere aspie, And waiteth after gret beyete; Bot al for noght, sche was forlete, That mo men wolde ther noght come. Whan he therof hath hiede nome, And knew that sche was yit a maide, Unto his oghne man he saide, That he with strengthe ayein hire leve Tho scholde hir maidenhod bereve. 1440 This man goth in, bot so it ferde, Whan he hire wofull pleintes herde And he therof hath take kepe, Him liste betre forto wepe Than don oght elles to the game. And thus sche kepte hirself fro schame, And kneleth doun to therthe and preide Unto this man, and thus sche seide: "If so be that thi maister wolde That I his gold encresce scholde, 1450 It mai noght falle be this weie: Bot soffre me to go mi weie Out of this hous wher I am inne, And I schal make him forto winne In som place elles of the toun, Be so it be religioun, Wher that honeste wommen duelle. And thus thou myht thi maister telle, That whanne I have a chambre there, Let him do crie ay wyde where, 1460 What lord that hath his doghter diere, And is in will that sche schal liere Of such a Scole that is trewe, I schal hire teche of thinges newe, Which as non other womman can In al this lond." And tho this man Hire tale hath herd, he goth ayein, And tolde unto his maister plein That sche hath seid; and therupon, Whan than he sih beyete non 1470 At the bordel be cause of hire, He bad his man to gon and spire A place wher sche myhte abyde, That he mai winne upon som side Be that sche can: bot ate leste Thus was sche sauf fro this tempeste. He hath hire fro the bordel take, Bot that was noght for goddes sake, Bot for the lucre, as sche him tolde. Now comen tho that comen wolde 1480 Of wommen in her lusty youthe, To hiere and se what thing sche couthe: Sche can the wisdom of a clerk, Sche can of every lusti werk Which to a gentil womman longeth, And some of hem sche underfongeth To the Citole and to the Harpe, And whom it liketh forto carpe Proverbes and demandes slyhe, An other such thei nevere syhe, 1490 Which that science so wel tawhte: Wherof sche grete yiftes cawhte, That sche to Leonin hath wonne; And thus hire name is so begonne Of sondri thinges that sche techeth, That al the lond unto hir secheth Of yonge wommen forto liere. Nou lete we this maiden hiere, And speke of Dionise ayein And of Theophile the vilein, 1500 Of whiche I spak of nou tofore. Whan Thaise scholde have be forlore, This false cherl to his lady Whan he cam hom, al prively He seith, "Ma Dame, slain I have This maide Thaise, and is begrave In prive place, as ye me biede. Forthi, ma dame, taketh hiede And kep conseil, hou so it stonde." This fend, which this hath understonde, 1510 Was glad, and weneth it be soth: Now herkne, hierafter hou sche doth. Sche wepth, sche sorweth, sche compleigneth, And of sieknesse which sche feigneth Sche seith that Taise sodeinly Be nyhte is ded, "as sche and I Togedre lyhen nyh my lord." Sche was a womman of record, And al is lieved that sche seith; And forto yive a more feith, 1520 Hire housebonde and ek sche bothe In blake clothes thei hem clothe, And made a gret enterrement; And for the poeple schal be blent, Of Thaise as for the remembrance, After the real olde usance A tumbe of latoun noble and riche With an ymage unto hir liche Liggende above therupon Thei made and sette it up anon. 1530 Hire Epitaffe of good assisse Was write aboute, and in this wise It spak: "O yee that this beholde, Lo, hier lith sche, the which was holde The faireste and the flour of alle, Whos name Thai5sis men calle. The king of Tyr Appolinus Hire fader was: now lith sche thus. Fourtiene yer sche was of Age, Whan deth hir tok to his viage." 1540 Thus was this false treson hidd, Which afterward was wyde kidd, As be the tale a man schal hiere. Bot forto clare mi matiere, To Tyr I thenke torne ayein, And telle as the Croniqes sein. Whan that the king was comen hom, And hath left in the salte fom His wif, which he mai noght foryete, For he som confort wolde gete, 1550 He let somoune a parlement, To which the lordes were asent; And of the time he hath ben oute, He seth the thinges al aboute, And told hem ek hou he hath fare, Whil he was out of londe fare; And preide hem alle to abyde, For he wolde at the same tyde Do schape for his wyves mynde, As he that wol noght ben unkinde. 1560 Solempne was that ilke office, And riche was the sacrifice, The feste reali was holde: And therto was he wel beholde; For such a wif as he hadde on In thilke daies was ther non. Whan this was do, thanne he him thoghte Upon his doghter, and besoghte Suche of his lordes as he wolde, That thei with him to Tharse scholde, 1570 To fette his doghter Taise there: And thei anon al redy were, To schip they gon and forth thei wente, Til thei the havene of Tharse hente. They londe and faile of that thei seche Be coverture and sleyhte of speche: This false man Strangulio, And Dionise his wif also, That he the betre trowe myhte, Thei ladden him to have a sihte 1580 Wher that hir tombe was arraied. The lasse yit he was mispaied, And natheles, so as he dorste, He curseth and seith al the worste Unto fortune, as to the blinde, Which can no seker weie finde; For sche him neweth evere among, And medleth sorwe with his song. Bot sithe it mai no betre be, He thonketh god and forth goth he 1590 Seilende toward Tyr ayein. Bot sodeinly the wynd and reyn Begonne upon the See debate, So that he soffre mot algate The lawe which Neptune ordeigneth; Wherof fulofte time he pleigneth, And hield him wel the more esmaied Of that he hath tofore assaied. So that for pure sorwe and care, Of that he seth his world so fare, 1600 The reste he lefte of his Caban, That for the conseil of noman Ayein therinne he nolde come, Bot hath benethe his place nome, Wher he wepende al one lay, Ther as he sih no lyht of day. And thus tofor the wynd thei dryve, Til longe and late thei aryve With gret distresce, as it was sene, Upon this toun of Mitelene, 1610 Which was a noble cite tho. And hapneth thilke time so, The lordes bothe and the comune The hihe festes of Neptune Upon the stronde at the rivage, As it was custumme and usage, Sollempneliche thei besihe. Whan thei this strange vessel syhe Come in, and hath his Seil avaled, The toun therof hath spoke and taled. 1620 The lord which of the cite was, Whos name is Athenagoras, Was there, and seide he wolde se What Schip it is, and who thei be That ben therinne: and after sone, Whan that he sih it was to done, His barge was for him arraied, And he goth forth and hath assaied. He fond the Schip of gret Array, Bot what thing it amonte may, 1630 He seth thei maden hevy chiere, Bot wel him thenkth be the manere That thei be worthi men of blod, And axeth of hem hou it stod; And thei him tellen al the cas, Hou that here lord fordrive was, And what a sorwe that he made, Of which ther mai noman him glade. He preith that he here lord mai se, Bot thei him tolde it mai noght be, 1640 For he lith in so derk a place, That ther may no wiht sen his face: Bot for al that, thogh hem be loth, He fond the ladre and doun he goth, And to him spak, bot non ansuere Ayein of him ne mihte he bere For oght that he can don or sein; And thus he goth him up ayein. Tho was ther spoke in many wise Amonges hem that weren wise, 1650 Now this, now that, bot ate laste The wisdom of the toun this caste, That yonge Taise were asent. For if ther be amendement To glade with this woful king, Sche can so moche of every thing, That sche schal gladen him anon. A Messager for hire is gon, And sche cam with hire Harpe on honde, And seide hem that sche wolde fonde 1660 Be alle weies that sche can, To glade with this sory man. Bot what he was sche wiste noght, Bot al the Schip hire hath besoght That sche hire wit on him despende, In aunter if he myhte amende, And sein it schal be wel aquit. Whan sche hath understonden it, Sche goth hir doun, ther as he lay, Wher that sche harpeth many a lay 1670 And lich an Angel sang withal; Bot he nomore than the wal Tok hiede of eny thing he herde. And whan sche sih that he so ferde, Sche falleth with him into wordes, And telleth him of sondri bordes, And axeth him demandes strange, Wherof sche made his herte change, And to hire speche his Ere he leide And hath merveile of that sche seide. 1680 For in proverbe and in probleme Sche spak, and bad he scholde deme In many soubtil question: Bot he for no suggestioun Which toward him sche couthe stere, He wolde noght o word ansuere, Bot as a madd man ate laste His heved wepende awey he caste, And half in wraththe he bad hire go. Bot yit sche wolde noght do so, 1690 And in the derke forth sche goth, Til sche him toucheth, and he wroth, And after hire with his hond He smot: and thus whan sche him fond Desesed, courtaisly sche saide, "Avoi, mi lord, I am a Maide; And if ye wiste what I am, And out of what lignage I cam, Ye wolde noght be so salvage." With that he sobreth his corage 1700 And put awey his hevy chiere. Bot of hem tuo a man mai liere What is to be so sibb of blod: Non wiste of other hou it stod, And yit the fader ate laste His herte upon this maide caste, That he hire loveth kindely, And yit he wiste nevere why. Bot al was knowe er that thei wente; For god, which wot here hol entente, 1710 Here hertes bothe anon descloseth. This king unto this maide opposeth, And axeth ferst what was hire name, And wher sche lerned al this game, And of what ken that sche was come. And sche, that hath hise wordes nome, Ansuerth and seith, "My name is Thaise, That was som time wel at aise: In Tharse I was forthdrawe and fed, Ther lerned I, til I was sped, 1720 Of that I can. Mi fader eke I not wher that I scholde him seke; He was a king, men tolde me: Mi Moder dreint was in the See." Fro point to point al sche him tolde, That sche hath longe in herte holde, And nevere dorste make hir mone Bot only to this lord al one, To whom hire herte can noght hele, Torne it to wo, torne it to wele, 1730 Torne it to good, torne it to harm. And he tho toke hire in his arm, Bot such a joie as he tho made Was nevere sen; thus be thei glade, That sory hadden be toforn. Fro this day forth fortune hath sworn To sette him upward on the whiel; So goth the world, now wo, now wel: This king hath founde newe grace, So that out of his derke place 1740 He goth him up into the liht, And with him cam that swete wiht, His doghter Thaise, and forth anon Thei bothe into the Caban gon Which was ordeigned for the king, And ther he dede of al his thing, And was arraied realy. And out he cam al openly, Wher Athenagoras he fond, The which was lord of al the lond: 1750 He preith the king to come and se His castell bothe and his cite, And thus thei gon forth alle in fiere, This king, this lord, this maiden diere. This lord tho made hem riche feste With every thing which was honeste, To plese with this worthi king, Ther lacketh him no maner thing: Bot yit for al his noble array Wifles he was into that day, 1760 As he that yit was of yong Age; So fell ther into his corage The lusti wo, the glade peine Of love, which noman restreigne Yit nevere myhte as nou tofore. This lord thenkth al his world forlore, Bot if the king wol don him grace; He waiteth time, he waiteth place, Him thoghte his herte wol tobreke, Til he mai to this maide speke 1770 And to hir fader ek also For mariage: and it fell so, That al was do riht as he thoghte, His pourpos to an ende he broghte, Sche weddeth him as for hire lord; Thus be thei alle of on acord. Whan al was do riht as thei wolde, The king unto his Sone tolde Of Tharse thilke traiterie, And seide hou in his compaignie 1780 His doghter and himselven eke Schull go vengance forto seke. The Schipes were redy sone, And whan thei sihe it was to done, Withoute lette of eny wente With Seil updrawe forth thei wente Towardes Tharse upon the tyde. Bot he that wot what schal betide, The hihe god, which wolde him kepe, Whan that this king was faste aslepe, 1790 Be nyhtes time he hath him bede To seile into an other stede: To Ephesim he bad him drawe, And as it was that time lawe, He schal do there his sacrifise; And ek he bad in alle wise That in the temple amonges alle His fortune, as it is befalle, Touchende his doghter and his wif He schal beknowe upon his lif. 1800 The king of this Avisioun Hath gret ymaginacioun, What thing it signefie may; And natheles, whan it was day, He bad caste Ancher and abod; And whil that he on Ancher rod, The wynd, which was tofore strange, Upon the point began to change, And torneth thider as it scholde. Tho knew he wel that god it wolde, 1810 And bad the Maister make him yare, Tofor the wynd for he wol fare To Ephesim, and so he dede. And whanne he cam unto the stede Where as he scholde londe, he londeth With al the haste he may, and fondeth To schapen him be such a wise, That he may be the morwe arise And don after the mandement Of him which hath him thider sent. 1820 And in the wise that he thoghte, Upon the morwe so he wroghte; His doghter and his Sone he nom, And forth unto the temple he com With a gret route in compaignie, Hise yiftes forto sacrifie. The citezeins tho herden seie Of such a king that cam to preie Unto Diane the godesse, And left al other besinesse, 1830 Thei comen thider forto se The king and the solempnete. With worthi knyhtes environed The king himself hath abandoned Into the temple in good entente. The dore is up, and he in wente, Wher as with gret devocioun Of holi contemplacioun Withinne his herte he made his schrifte; And after that a riche yifte 1840 He offreth with gret reverence, And there in open Audience Of hem that stoden thanne aboute, He tolde hem and declareth oute His hap, such as him is befalle, Ther was nothing foryete of alle. His wif, as it was goddes grace, Which was professed in the place, As sche that was Abbesse there, Unto his tale hath leid hire Ere: 1850 Sche knew the vois and the visage, For pure joie as in a rage Sche strawhte unto him al at ones, And fell aswoune upon the stones, Wherof the temple flor was paved. Sche was anon with water laved, Til sche cam to hirself ayein, And thanne sche began to sein: "Ha, blessed be the hihe sonde, That I mai se myn housebonde, 1860 That whilom he and I were on!" The king with that knew hire anon, And tok hire in his Arm and kiste; And al the toun thus sone it wiste. Tho was ther joie manyfold, For every man this tale hath told As for miracle, and were glade, Bot nevere man such joie made As doth the king, which hath his wif. And whan men herde hou that hir lif 1870 Was saved, and be whom it was, Thei wondren alle of such a cas: Thurgh al the Lond aros the speche Of Maister Cerymon the leche And of the cure which he dede. The king himself tho hath him bede, And ek this queene forth with him, That he the toun of Ephesim Wol leve and go wher as thei be, For nevere man of his degre 1880 Hath do to hem so mochel good; And he his profit understod, And granteth with hem forto wende. And thus thei maden there an ende, And token leve and gon to Schipe With al the hole felaschipe. This king, which nou hath his desir, Seith he wol holde his cours to Tyr. Thei hadden wynd at wille tho, With topseilcole and forth they go, 1890 And striken nevere, til thei come To Tyr, where as thei havene nome, And londen hem with mochel blisse. Tho was ther many a mowth to kisse, Echon welcometh other hom, Bot whan the queen to londe com, And Thaise hir doghter be hir side, The joie which was thilke tyde Ther mai no mannes tunge telle: Thei seiden alle, "Hier comth the welle 1900 Of alle wommannysshe grace." The king hath take his real place, The queene is into chambre go: Ther was gret feste arraied tho; Whan time was, thei gon to mete, Alle olde sorwes ben foryete, And gladen hem with joies newe: The descoloured pale hewe Is now become a rody cheke, Ther was no merthe forto seke, 1910 Bot every man hath that he wolde. The king, as he wel couthe and scholde, Makth to his poeple riht good chiere; And after sone, as thou schalt hiere, A parlement he hath sommoned, Wher he his doghter hath coroned Forth with the lord of Mitelene, That on is king, that other queene: And thus the fadres ordinance This lond hath set in governance, 1920 And seide thanne he wolde wende To Tharse, forto make an ende Of that his doghter was betraied. Therof were alle men wel paied, And seide hou it was forto done: The Schipes weren redi sone, And strong pouer with him he tok; Up to the Sky he caste his lok, And syh the wynd was covenable. Thei hale up Ancher with the cable, 1930 The Seil on hih, the Stiere in honde, And seilen, til thei come alonde At Tharse nyh to the cite; And whan thei wisten it was he, The toun hath don him reverence. He telleth hem the violence, Which the tretour Strangulio And Dionise him hadde do Touchende his dowhter, as yee herde; And whan thei wiste hou that it ferde, 1940 As he which pes and love soghte, Unto the toun this he besoghte, To don him riht in juggement. Anon thei were bothe asent With strengthe of men, and comen sone, And as hem thoghte it was to done, Atteint thei were be the lawe And diemed forto honge and drawe, And brent and with the wynd toblowe, That al the world it myhte knowe: 1950 And upon this condicion The dom in execucion Was put anon withoute faile. And every man hath gret mervaile, Which herde tellen of this chance, And thonketh goddes pourveance, Which doth mercy forth with justice. Slain is the moerdrer and moerdrice Thurgh verray trowthe of rihtwisnesse, And thurgh mercy sauf is simplesse 1960 Of hire whom mercy preserveth; Thus hath he wel that wel deserveth. Whan al this thing is don and ended, This king, which loved was and frended, A lettre hath, which cam to him Be Schipe fro Pentapolim, Be which the lond hath to him write, That he wolde understonde and wite Hou in good mynde and in good pes Ded is the king Artestrates, 1970 Wherof thei alle of on acord Him preiden, as here liege lord, That he the lettre wel conceive And come his regne to receive, Which god hath yove him and fortune; And thus besoghte the commune Forth with the grete lordes alle. This king sih how it was befalle, Fro Tharse and in prosperite He tok his leve of that Cite 1980 And goth him into Schipe ayein: The wynd was good, the See was plein, Hem nedeth noght a Riff to slake, Til thei Pentapolim have take. The lond, which herde of that tidinge, Was wonder glad of his cominge; He resteth him a day or tuo And tok his conseil to him tho, And sette a time of Parlement, Wher al the lond of on assent 1990 Forth with his wif hath him corouned, Wher alle goode him was fuisouned. Lo, what it is to be wel grounded: For he hath ferst his love founded Honesteliche as forto wedde, Honesteliche his love he spedde And hadde children with his wif, And as him liste he ladde his lif; And in ensample his lif was write, That alle lovers myhten wite 2000 How ate laste it schal be sene Of love what thei wolden mene. For se now on that other side, Antiochus with al his Pride, Which sette his love unkindely, His ende he hadde al sodeinly, Set ayein kinde upon vengance, And for his lust hath his penance. Lo thus, mi Sone, myht thou liere What is to love in good manere, 2010 And what to love in other wise: The mede arist of the servise; Fortune, thogh sche be noght stable, Yit at som time is favorable To hem that ben of love trewe. Bot certes it is forto rewe To se love ayein kinde falle, For that makth sore a man to falle, As thou myht of tofore rede. Forthi, my Sone, I wolde rede 2020 To lete al other love aweie, Bot if it be thurgh such a weie As love and reson wolde acorde. For elles, if that thou descorde, And take lust as doth a beste, Thi love mai noght ben honeste; For be no skile that I finde Such lust is noght of loves kinde. Mi fader, hou so that it stonde, Youre tale is herd and understonde, 2030 As thing which worthi is to hiere, Of gret ensample and gret matiere, Wherof, my fader, god you quyte. Bot in this point miself aquite I mai riht wel, that nevere yit I was assoted in my wit, Bot only in that worthi place Wher alle lust and alle grace Is set, if that danger ne were. Bot that is al my moste fere: 2040 I not what ye fortune acompte, Bot what thing danger mai amonte I wot wel, for I have assaied; For whan myn herte is best arraied And I have al my wit thurghsoght Of love to beseche hire oght, For al that evere I skile may, I am concluded with a nay: That o sillable hath overthrowe A thousend wordes on a rowe 2050 Of suche as I best speke can; Thus am I bot a lewed man. Bot, fader, for ye ben a clerk Of love, and this matiere is derk, And I can evere leng the lasse, Bot yit I mai noght let it passe, Youre hole conseil I beseche, That ye me be som weie teche What is my beste, as for an ende. Mi Sone, unto the trouthe wende 2060 Now wol I for the love of thee, And lete alle othre truffles be. The more that the nede is hyh, The more it nedeth to be slyh To him which hath the nede on honde. I have wel herd and understonde, Mi Sone, al that thou hast me seid, And ek of that thou hast me preid, Nou at this time that I schal As for conclusioun final 2070 Conseile upon thi nede sette: So thenke I finaly to knette This cause, where it is tobroke, And make an ende of that is spoke. For I behihte thee that yifte Ferst whan thou come under my schrifte, That thogh I toward Venus were, Yit spak I suche wordes there, That for the Presthod which I have, Min ordre and min astat to save, 2080 I seide I wolde of myn office To vertu more than to vice Encline, and teche thee mi lore. Forthi to speken overmore Of love, which thee mai availe, Tak love where it mai noght faile: For as of this which thou art inne, Be that thou seist it is a Sinne, And Sinne mai no pris deserve, Withoute pris and who schal serve, 2090 I not what profit myhte availe. Thus folweth it, if thou travaile, Wher thou no profit hast ne pris, Thou art toward thiself unwis: And sett thou myhtest lust atteigne, Of every lust thende is a peine, And every peine is good to fle; So it is wonder thing to se, Why such a thing schal be desired. The more that a Stock is fyred, 2100 The rathere into Aisshe it torneth; The fot which in the weie sporneth Fulofte his heved hath overthrowe; Thus love is blind and can noght knowe Wher that he goth, til he be falle: Forthi, bot if it so befalle With good conseil that he be lad, Him oghte forto ben adrad. For conseil passeth alle thing To him which thenkth to ben a king; 2110 And every man for his partie A kingdom hath to justefie, That is to sein his oghne dom. If he misreule that kingdom, He lest himself, and that is more Than if he loste Schip and Ore And al the worldes good withal: For what man that in special Hath noght himself, he hath noght elles, Nomor the perles than the schelles; 2120 Al is to him of o value: Thogh he hadde at his retenue The wyde world ryht as he wolde, Whan he his herte hath noght withholde Toward himself, al is in vein. And thus, my Sone, I wolde sein, As I seide er, that thou aryse, Er that thou falle in such a wise That thou ne myht thiself rekevere; For love, which that blind was evere, 2130 Makth alle his servantz blinde also. My Sone, and if thou have be so, Yit is it time to withdrawe, And set thin herte under that lawe, The which of reson is governed And noght of will. And to be lerned, Ensamples thou hast many on Of now and ek of time gon, That every lust is bot a while; And who that wole himself beguile, 2140 He may the rathere be deceived. Mi Sone, now thou hast conceived Somwhat of that I wolde mene; Hierafterward it schal be sene If that thou lieve upon mi lore; For I can do to thee nomore Bot teche thee the rihte weie: Now ches if thou wolt live or deie. Mi fader, so as I have herd Your tale, bot it were ansuerd, 2150 I were mochel forto blame. Mi wo to you is bot a game, That fielen noght of that I fiele; The fielinge of a mannes Hiele Mai noght be likned to the Herte: I mai noght, thogh I wolde, asterte, And ye be fre from al the peine Of love, wherof I me pleigne. It is riht esi to comaunde; The hert which fre goth on the launde 2160 Not of an Oxe what him eileth; It falleth ofte a man merveileth Of that he seth an other fare, Bot if he knewe himself the fare, And felt it as it is in soth, He scholde don riht as he doth, Or elles werse in his degre: For wel I wot, and so do ye, That love hath evere yit ben used, So mot I nedes ben excused. 2170 Bot, fader, if ye wolde thus Unto Cupide and to Venus Be frendlich toward mi querele, So that myn herte were in hele Of love which is in mi briest, I wot wel thanne a betre Prest Was nevere mad to my behove. Bot al the whiles that I hove In noncertein betwen the tuo, And not if I to wel or wo 2180 Schal torne, that is al my drede, So that I not what is to rede. Bot for final conclusion I thenke a Supplicacion With pleine wordes and expresse Wryte unto Venus the goddesse, The which I preie you to bere And bringe ayein a good ansuere. Tho was betwen mi Prest and me Debat and gret perplexete: 2190 Mi resoun understod him wel, And knew it was sothe everydel That he hath seid, bot noght forthi Mi will hath nothing set therby. For techinge of so wis a port Is unto love of no desport; Yit myhte nevere man beholde Reson, wher love was withholde, Thei be noght of o governance. And thus we fellen in distance, 2200 Mi Prest and I, bot I spak faire, And thurgh mi wordes debonaire Thanne ate laste we acorden, So that he seith he wol recorden To speke and stonde upon mi syde To Venus bothe and to Cupide; And bad me wryte what I wolde, And seith me trewly that he scholde Mi lettre bere unto the queene. And I sat doun upon the grene 2210 Fulfilt of loves fantasie, And with the teres of myn ije In stede of enke I gan to wryte The wordes whiche I wolde endite Unto Cupide and to Venus, And in mi lettre I seide thus. The wofull peine of loves maladie, Ayein the which mai no phisique availe, Min herte hath so bewhaped with sotie, That wher so that I reste or I travaile, 2220 I finde it evere redy to assaile Mi resoun, which that can him noght defende: Thus seche I help, wherof I mihte amende. Ferst to Nature if that I me compleigne, Ther finde I hou that every creature Som time ayer hath love in his demeine, So that the litel wrenne in his mesure Hath yit of kinde a love under his cure; And I bot on desire, of which I misse: And thus, bot I, hath every kinde his blisse. 2230 The resoun of my wit it overpasseth, Of that Nature techeth me the weie To love, and yit no certein sche compasseth Hou I schal spede, and thus betwen the tweie I stonde, and not if I schal live or deie. For thogh reson ayein my will debate, I mai noght fle, that I ne love algate. Upon miself is thilke tale come, Hou whilom Pan, which is the god of kinde, With love wrastlede and was overcome: 2240 For evere I wrastle and evere I am behinde, That I no strengthe in al min herte finde, Wherof that I mai stonden eny throwe; So fer mi wit with love is overthrowe. Whom nedeth help, he mot his helpe crave, Or helpeles he schal his nede spille: Pleinly thurghsoght my wittes alle I have, Bot non of hem can helpe after mi wille; And als so wel I mihte sitte stille, As preie unto mi lady eny helpe: 2250 Thus wot I noght wherof miself to helpe. Unto the grete Jove and if I bidde, To do me grace of thilke swete tunne, Which under keie in his celier amidde Lith couched, that fortune is overrunne, Bot of the bitter cuppe I have begunne, I not hou ofte, and thus finde I no game; For evere I axe and evere it is the same. I se the world stonde evere upon eschange, Nou wyndes loude, and nou the weder softe; 2260 I mai sen ek the grete mone change, And thing which nou is lowe is eft alofte; The dredfull werres into pes fulofte Thei torne; and evere is Danger in o place, Which wol noght change his will to do me grace. Bot upon this the grete clerc Ovide, Of love whan he makth his remembrance, He seith ther is the blinde god Cupide, The which hath love under his governance, And in his hond with many a fyri lance 2270 He woundeth ofte, ther he wol noght hele; And that somdiel is cause of mi querele. Ovide ek seith that love to parforne Stant in the hond of Venus the goddesse, Bot whan sche takth hir conseil with Satorne, Ther is no grace, and in that time, I gesse, Began mi love, of which myn hevynesse Is now and evere schal, bot if I spede: So wot I noght miself what is to rede. Forthi to you, Cupide and Venus bothe, 2280 With al myn hertes obeissance I preie, If ye were ate ferste time wrothe, Whan I began to love, as I you seie, Nou stynt, and do thilke infortune aweie, So that Danger, which stant of retenue With my ladi, his place mai remue. O thou Cupide, god of loves lawe, That with thi Dart brennende hast set afyre Min herte, do that wounde be withdrawe, Or yif me Salve such as I desire: 2290 For Service in thi Court withouten hyre To me, which evere yit have kept thin heste, Mai nevere be to loves lawe honeste. O thou, gentile Venus, loves queene, Withoute gult thou dost on me thi wreche; Thou wost my peine is evere aliche grene For love, and yit I mai it noght areche: This wold I for my laste word beseche, That thou mi love aquite as I deserve, Or elles do me pleinly forto sterve. 2300 Whanne I this Supplicacioun With good deliberacioun, In such a wise as ye nou wite, Hadde after min entente write Unto Cupide and to Venus, This Prest which hihte Genius It tok on honde to presente, On my message and forth he wente To Venus, forto wite hire wille. And I bod in the place stille, 2310 And was there bot a litel while, Noght full the montance of a Mile, Whan I behield and sodeinly I sih wher Venus stod me by. So as I myhte, under a tre To grounde I fell upon mi kne, And preide hire forto do me grace: Sche caste hire chiere upon mi face, And as it were halvinge a game Sche axeth me what is mi name. 2320 "Ma dame," I seide, "John Gower." "Now John," quod sche, "in my pouer Thou most as of thi love stonde; For I thi bille have understonde, In which to Cupide and to me Somdiel thou hast compleigned thee, And somdiel to Nature also. Bot that schal stonde among you tuo, For therof have I noght to done; For Nature is under the Mone 2330 Maistresse of every lives kinde, Bot if so be that sche mai finde Som holy man that wol withdrawe His kindly lust ayein hir lawe; Bot sielde whanne it falleth so, For fewe men ther ben of tho, Bot of these othre ynowe be, Whiche of here oghne nycete Ayein Nature and hire office Deliten hem in sondri vice, 2340 Wherof that sche fulofte hath pleigned, And ek my Court it hath desdeigned And evere schal; for it receiveth Non such that kinde so deceiveth. For al onliche of gentil love Mi court stant alle courtz above And takth noght into retenue Bot thing which is to kinde due, For elles it schal be refused. Wherof I holde thee excused, 2350 For it is manye daies gon, That thou amonges hem were on Which of my court hast ben withholde; So that the more I am beholde Of thi desese to commune, And to remue that fortune, Which manye daies hath the grieved. Bot if my conseil mai be lieved, Thou schalt ben esed er thou go Of thilke unsely jolif wo, 2360 Wherof thou seist thin herte is fyred: Bot as of that thou hast desired After the sentence of thi bille, Thou most therof don at my wille, And I therof me wole avise. For be thou hol, it schal suffise: Mi medicine is noght to sieke For thee and for suche olde sieke, Noght al per chance as ye it wolden, Bot so as ye be reson scholden, 2370 Acordant unto loves kinde. For in the plit which I thee finde, So as mi court it hath awarded, Thou schalt be duely rewarded; And if thou woldest more crave, It is no riht that thou it have." Venus, which stant withoute lawe In noncertein, bot as men drawe Of Rageman upon the chance, Sche leith no peis in the balance, 2380 Bot as hir lyketh forto weie; The trewe man fulofte aweie Sche put, which hath hir grace bede, And set an untrewe in his stede. Lo, thus blindly the world sche diemeth In loves cause, as tome siemeth: I not what othre men wol sein, Bot I algate am so besein, And stonde as on amonges alle Which am out of hir grace falle: 2390 It nedeth take no witnesse, For sche which seid is the goddesse, To whether part of love it wende, Hath sett me for a final ende The point wherto that I schal holde. For whan sche hath me wel beholde, Halvynge of scorn, sche seide thus: "Thou wost wel that I am Venus, Which al only my lustes seche; And wel I wot, thogh thou beseche 2400 Mi love, lustes ben ther none, Whiche I mai take in thi persone; For loves lust and lockes hore In chambre acorden neveremore, And thogh thou feigne a yong corage, It scheweth wel be the visage That olde grisel is no fole: There ben fulmanye yeres stole With thee and with suche othre mo, That outward feignen youthe so 2410 And ben withinne of pore assay. Min herte wolde and I ne may Is noght beloved nou adayes; Er thou make eny suche assaies To love, and faile upon the fet, Betre is to make a beau retret; For thogh thou myhtest love atteigne, Yit were it bot an ydel peine, Whan that thou art noght sufficant To holde love his covenant. 2420 Forthi tak hom thin herte ayein, That thou travaile noght in vein, Wherof my Court may be deceived. I wot and have it wel conceived, Hou that thi will is good ynowh; Bot mor behoveth to the plowh, Wherof the lacketh, as I trowe: So sitte it wel that thou beknowe Thi fieble astat, er thou beginne Thing wher thou miht non ende winne. 2430 What bargain scholde a man assaie, Whan that him lacketh forto paie? Mi Sone, if thou be wel bethoght, This toucheth thee; foryet it noght: The thing is torned into was; That which was whilom grene gras, Is welked hey at time now. Forthi mi conseil is that thou Remembre wel hou thou art old." Whan Venus hath hir tale told, 2440 And I bethoght was al aboute, Tho wiste I wel withoute doute, That ther was no recoverir; And as a man the blase of fyr With water quencheth, so ferd I; A cold me cawhte sodeinly, For sorwe that myn herte made Mi dedly face pale and fade Becam, and swoune I fell to grounde. And as I lay the same stounde, 2450 Ne fully quik ne fully ded, Me thoghte I sih tofor myn hed Cupide with his bowe bent, And lich unto a Parlement, Which were ordeigned for the nones, With him cam al the world at ones Of gentil folk that whilom were Lovers, I sih hem alle there Forth with Cupide in sondri routes. Min yhe and as I caste aboutes, 2460 To knowe among hem who was who, I sih wher lusty Youthe tho, As he which was a Capitein, Tofore alle othre upon the plein Stod with his route wel begon, Here hevedes kempt, and therupon Garlandes noght of o colour, Some of the lef, some of the flour, And some of grete Perles were; The newe guise of Beawme there, 2470 With sondri thinges wel devised, I sih, wherof thei ben queintised. It was al lust that thei with ferde, Ther was no song that I ne herde, Which unto love was touchende; Of Pan and al that was likende As in Pipinge of melodie Was herd in thilke compaignie So lowde, that on every side It thoghte as al the hevene cride 2480 In such acord and such a soun Of bombard and of clarion With Cornemuse and Schallemele, That it was half a mannes hele So glad a noise forto hiere. And as me thoghte, in this manere Al freissh I syh hem springe and dance, And do to love her entendance After the lust of youthes heste. Ther was ynowh of joie and feste, 2490 For evere among thei laghe and pleie, And putten care out of the weie, That he with hem ne sat ne stod. And overthis I understod, So as myn Ere it myhte areche, The moste matiere of her speche Was al of knyhthod and of Armes, And what it is to ligge in armes With love, whanne it is achieved. Ther was Tristram, which was believed 2500 With bele Ysolde, and Lancelot Stod with Gunnore, and Galahot With his ladi, and as me thoghte, I syh wher Jason with him broghte His love, which that Creusa hihte, And Hercules, which mochel myhte, Was ther berende his grete Mace, And most of alle in thilke place He peyneth him to make chiere With Eolen, which was him diere. 2510 These
s, thogh he were untrewe To love, as alle wommen knewe, Yit was he there natheles With Phedra, whom to love he ches: Of Grece ek ther was Thelamon, Which fro the king Lamenedon At Troie his doghter refte aweie, Eseonen, as for his preie, Which take was whan Jason cam Fro Colchos, and the Cite nam 2520 In vengance of the ferste hate; That made hem after to debate, Whan Priamus the newe toun Hath mad. And in avisioun Me thoghte that I sih also Ector forth with his brethren tuo; Himself stod with Pantaselee, And next to him I myhte se, Wher Paris stod with faire Eleine, Which was his joie sovereine; 2530 And Troilus stod with Criseide, Bot evere among, althogh he pleide, Be semblant he was hevy chiered, For Diomede, as him was liered, Cleymeth to ben his parconner. And thus full many a bacheler, A thousend mo than I can sein, With Yowthe I sih ther wel besein Forth with here loves glade and blithe. And some I sih whiche ofte sithe 2540 Compleignen hem in other wise; Among the whiche I syh Narcise And Piramus, that sory were. The worthy Grek also was there, Achilles, which for love deide: Agamenon ek, as men seide, And Menelay the king also I syh, with many an other mo, Which hadden be fortuned sore In loves cause. And overmore 2550 Of wommen in the same cas, With hem I sih wher Dido was, Forsake which was with Enee; And Phillis ek I myhte see, Whom Demephon deceived hadde; And Adriagne hir sorwe ladde, For These
s hir Soster tok And hire unkindely forsok. I sih ther ek among the press Compleignende upon Hercules 2560 His ferste love Deyanire, Which sette him afterward afyre: Medea was there ek and pleigneth Upon Jason, for that he feigneth, Withoute cause and tok a newe; Sche seide, "Fy on alle untrewe!" I sih there ek Deijdamie, Which hadde lost the compaignie Of Achilles, whan Diomede To Troie him fette upon the nede. 2570 Among these othre upon the grene I syh also the wofull queene Cleopatras, which in a Cave With Serpentz hath hirself begrave Alquik, and so sche was totore, For sorwe of that sche hadde lore Antonye, which hir love hath be: And forth with hire I sih Tisbee, Which on the scharpe swerdes point For love deide in sory point; 2580 And as myn Ere it myhte knowe, Sche seide, "Wo worthe alle slowe!" The pleignte of Progne and Philomene Ther herde I what it wolde mene, How Tere
s of his untrouthe Undede hem bothe, and that was routhe; And next to hem I sih Canace, Which for Machaire hir fader grace Hath lost, and deide in wofull plit. And as I sih in my spirit, 2590 Me thoghte amonges othre thus The doghter of king Priamus, Polixena, whom Pirrus slowh, Was there and made sorwe ynowh, As sche which deide gulteles For love, and yit was loveles. And forto take the desport, I sih there some of other port, And that was Circes and Calipse, That cowthen do the Mone eclipse, 2600 Of men and change the liknesses, Of Artmagique Sorceresses; Thei hielde in honde manyon, To love wher thei wolde or non. Bot above alle that ther were Of wommen I sih foure there, Whos name I herde most comended: Be hem the Court stod al amended; For wher thei comen in presence, Men deden hem the reverence, 2610 As thogh they hadden be goddesses, Of al this world or Emperesses. And as me thoghte, an Ere I leide, And herde hou that these othre seide, "Lo, these ben the foure wyves, Whos feith was proeved in her lyves: For in essample of alle goode With Mariage so thei stode, That fame, which no gret thing hydeth, Yit in Cronique of hem abydeth." 2620 Penolope that on was hote, Whom many a knyht hath loved hote, Whil that hire lord Ulixes lay Full many a yer and many a day Upon the grete Siege of Troie: Bot sche, which hath no worldes joie Bot only of hire housebonde, Whil that hir lord was out of londe, So wel hath kept hir wommanhiede, That al the world therof tok hiede, 2630 And nameliche of hem in Grece. That other womman was Lucrece, Wif to the Romain Collatin; And sche constreigned of Tarquin To thing which was ayein hir wille, Sche wolde noght hirselven stille, Bot deide only for drede of schame In keping of hire goode name, As sche which was on of the beste. The thridde wif was hote Alceste, 2640 Which whanne Ametus scholde dye Upon his grete maladye, Sche preide unto the goddes so, That sche receyveth al the wo And deide hirself to yive him lif: Lo, if this were a noble wif. The ferthe wif which I ther sih, I herde of hem that were nyh Hou sche was cleped Alcione, Which to Seyix hir lord al one 2650 And to nomo hire body kepte; And whan sche sih him dreynt, sche lepte Into the wawes where he swam, And there a Sefoul sche becam, And with hire wenges him bespradde For love which to him sche hadde. Lo, these foure were tho Whiche I sih, as me thoghte tho, Among the grete compaignie Which Love hadde forto guye: 2660 Bot Youthe, which in special Of Loves Court was Mareschal, So besy was upon his lay, That he non hiede where I lay Hath take. And thanne, as I behield, Me thoghte I sih upon the field, Where Elde cam a softe pas Toward Venus, ther as sche was. With him gret compaignie he ladde, Bot noght so manye as Youthe hadde: 2670 The moste part were of gret Age, And that was sene in the visage, And noght forthi, so as thei myhte, Thei made hem yongly to the sihte: Bot yit herde I no pipe there To make noise in mannes Ere, Bot the Musette I myhte knowe, For olde men which souneth lowe, With Harpe and Lute and with Citole. The hovedance and the Carole, 2680 In such a wise as love hath bede, A softe pas thei dance and trede; And with the wommen otherwhile With sobre chier among thei smyle, For laghtre was ther non on hyh. And natheles full wel I syh That thei the more queinte it made For love, in whom thei weren glade. And there me thoghte I myhte se The king David with Bersabee, 2690 And Salomon was noght withoute; Passende an hundred on a route Of wyves and of Concubines, Juesses bothe and Sarazines, To him I sih alle entendant: I not if he was sufficant, Bot natheles for al his wit He was attached with that writ Which love with his hond enseleth, Fro whom non erthly man appeleth. 2700 And overthis, as for a wonder, With his leon which he put under, With Dalida Sampson I knew, Whos love his strengthe al overthrew. I syh there Aristotle also, Whom that the queene of Grece so Hath bridled, that in thilke time Sche made him such a Silogime, That he foryat al his logique; Ther was non art of his Practique, 2710 Thurgh which it mihte ben excluded That he ne was fully concluded To love, and dede his obeissance. And ek Virgile of aqueintance I sih, wher he the Maiden preide, Which was the doghter, as men seide, Of themperour whilom of Rome; Sortes and Plato with him come, So dede Ovide the Poete. I thoghte thanne how love is swete, 2720 Which hath so wise men reclamed, And was miself the lasse aschamed, Or forto lese or forto winne In the meschief that I was inne: And thus I lay in hope of grace. And whan thei comen to the place Wher Venus stod and I was falle, These olde men with o vois alle To Venus preiden for my sake. And sche, that myhte noght forsake 2730 So gret a clamour as was there, Let Pite come into hire Ere; And forth withal unto Cupide Sche preith that he upon his side Me wolde thurgh his grace sende Som confort, that I myhte amende, Upon the cas which is befalle. And thus for me thei preiden alle Of hem that weren olde aboute, And ek some of the yonge route, 2740 Of gentilesse and pure trouthe I herde hem telle it was gret routhe, That I withouten help so ferde. And thus me thoghte I lay and herde. Cupido, which may hurte and hele In loves cause, as for myn hele Upon the point which him was preid Cam with Venus, wher I was leid Swounende upon the grene gras. And, as me thoghte , anon ther was 2750 On every side so gret presse, That every lif began to presse, I wot noght wel hou many score, Suche as I spak of now tofore, Lovers, that comen to beholde, Bot most of hem that weren olde: Thei stoden there at thilke tyde, To se what ende schal betyde Upon the cure of my sotie. Tho myhte I hiere gret partie 2760 Spekende, and ech his oghne avis Hath told, on that, an other this: Bot among alle this I herde, Thei weren wo that I so ferde, And seiden that for no riote An old man scholde noght assote; For as thei tolden redely, Ther is in him no cause why, Bot if he wolde himself benyce; So were he wel the more nyce. 2770 And thus desputen some of tho, And some seiden nothing so, Bot that the wylde loves rage In mannes lif forberth non Age; Whil ther is oyle forto fyre, The lampe is lyhtly set afyre, And is fulhard er it be queynt, Bot only if it be som seint, Which god preserveth of his grace. And thus me thoghte, in sondri place 2780 Of hem that walken up and doun Ther was diverse opinioun: And for a while so it laste, Til that Cupide to the laste, Forth with his moder full avised, Hath determined and devised Unto what point he wol descende. And al this time I was liggende Upon the ground tofore his yhen, And thei that my desese syhen 2790 Supposen noght I scholde live; Bot he, which wolde thanne yive His grace, so as it mai be, This blinde god which mai noght se, Hath groped til that he me fond; And as he pitte forth his hond Upon my body, wher I lay, Me thoghte a fyri Lancegay, Which whilom thurgh myn herte he caste, He pulleth oute, and also faste 2800 As this was do, Cupide nam His weie, I not where he becam, And so dede al the remenant Which unto him was entendant, Of hem that in Avision I hadde a revelacion, So as I tolde now tofore. Bot Venus wente noght therfore, Ne Genius, whiche thilke time Abiden bothe faste byme. 2810 And sche which mai the hertes bynde In loves cause and ek unbinde, Er I out of mi trance aros, Venus, which hield a boiste clos, And wolde noght I scholde deie, Tok out mor cold than eny keie An oignement, and in such point Sche hath my wounded herte enoignt, My temples and my Reins also. And forth withal sche tok me tho 2820 A wonder Mirour forto holde, In which sche bad me to beholde And taken hiede of that I syhe; Wherinne anon myn hertes yhe I caste, and sih my colour fade, Myn yhen dymme and al unglade, Mi chiekes thinne, and al my face With Elde I myhte se deface, So riveled and so wo besein, That ther was nothing full ne plein, 2830 I syh also myn heres hore. Mi will was tho to se nomore Outwith, for ther was no plesance; And thanne into my remembrance I drowh myn olde daies passed, And as reson it hath compassed, I made a liknesse of miselve Unto the sondri Monthes twelve, Wherof the yeer in his astat Is mad, and stant upon debat, 2840 That lich til other non acordeth. For who the times wel recordeth, And thanne at Marche if he beginne, Whan that the lusti yeer comth inne, Til Augst be passed and Septembre, The myhty youthe he may remembre In which the yeer hath his deduit Of gras, of lef, of flour, of fruit, Of corn and of the wyny grape. And afterward the time is schape 2850 To frost, to Snow, to Wind, to Rein, Til eft that Mars be come ayein: The Wynter wol no Somer knowe, The grene lef is overthrowe, The clothed erthe is thanne bare, Despuiled is the Somerfare, That erst was hete is thanne chele. And thus thenkende thoghtes fele, I was out of mi swoune affraied, Wherof I sih my wittes straied, 2860 And gan to clepe hem hom ayein. And whan Resoun it herde sein That loves rage was aweie, He cam to me the rihte weie, And hath remued the sotie Of thilke unwise fantasie, Wherof that I was wont to pleigne, So that of thilke fyri peine I was mad sobre and hol ynowh. Venus behield me than and lowh, 2870 And axeth, as it were in game, What love was. And I for schame Ne wiste what I scholde ansuere; And natheles I gan to swere That be my trouthe I knew him noght; So ferr it was out of mi thoght, Riht as it hadde nevere be. "Mi goode Sone," tho quod sche, "Now at this time I lieve it wel, So goth the fortune of my whiel; 2880 Forthi mi conseil is thou leve." "Ma dame," I seide, "be your leve, Ye witen wel, and so wot I, That I am unbehovely Your Court fro this day forth to serve: And for I may no thonk deserve, And also for I am refused, I preie you to ben excused. And natheles as for the laste, Whil that my wittes with me laste, 2890 Touchende mi confession I axe an absolucion Of Genius, er that I go." The Prest anon was redy tho, And seide, "Sone, as of thi schrifte Thou hast ful pardoun and foryifte; Foryet it thou, and so wol I." "Min holi fader, grant mercy," Quod I to him, and to the queene I fell on knes upon the grene, 2900 And tok my leve forto wende. Bot sche, that wolde make an ende, As therto which I was most able, A Peire of Bedes blak as Sable Sche tok and heng my necke aboute; Upon the gaudes al withoute Was write of gold, Por reposer. "Lo," thus sche seide, "John Gower, Now thou art ate laste cast, This have I for thin ese cast, 2910 That thou nomore of love sieche. Bot my will is that thou besieche And preie hierafter for the pes, And that thou make a plein reles To love, which takth litel hiede Of olde men upon the nede, Whan that the lustes ben aweie: Forthi to thee nys bot o weie, In which let reson be thi guide; For he may sone himself misguide, 2920 That seth noght the peril tofore. Mi Sone, be wel war therfore, And kep the sentence of my lore And tarie thou mi Court nomore, Bot go ther vertu moral duelleth, Wher ben thi bokes, as men telleth, Whiche of long time thou hast write. For this I do thee wel to wite, If thou thin hele wolt