wo thee be, That hast thus told the privite, 1660 Which alle wommen most desire! I wolde that thou were afire." Bot natheles in such a plit Florent of his answere is quit: And tho began his sorwe newe, For he mot gon, or ben untrewe, To hire which his trowthe hadde. Bot he, which alle schame dradde, Goth forth in stede of his penance, And takth the fortune of his chance, 1670 As he that was with trowthe affaited. This olde wyht him hath awaited In place wher as he hire lefte: Florent his wofull heved uplefte And syh this vecke wher sche sat, Which was the lothlieste what That evere man caste on his yhe: Hire Nase bass, hire browes hyhe, Hire yhen smale and depe set, Hire chekes ben with teres wet, 1680 And rivelen as an emty skyn Hangende doun unto the chin, Hire Lippes schrunken ben for age, Ther was no grace in the visage, Hir front was nargh, hir lockes hore, Sche loketh forth as doth a More, Hire Necke is schort, hir schuldres courbe, That myhte a mannes lust destourbe, Hire body gret and nothing smal, And schortly to descrive hire al, 1690 Sche hath no lith withoute a lak; Bot lich unto the wollesak Sche proferth hire unto this knyht, And bad him, as he hath behyht, So as sche hath ben his warant, That he hire holde covenant, And be the bridel sche him seseth. Bot godd wot how that sche him pleseth Of suche wordes as sche spekth: Him thenkth welnyh his herte brekth 1700 For sorwe that he may noght fle, Bot if he wolde untrewe be. Loke, how a sek man for his hele Takth baldemoine with Canele, And with the Mirre takth the Sucre, Ryht upon such a maner lucre Stant Florent, as in this diete: He drinkth the bitre with the swete, He medleth sorwe with likynge, And liveth, as who seith, deyinge; 1710 His youthe schal be cast aweie Upon such on which as the weie Is old and lothly overal. Bot nede he mot that nede schal: He wolde algate his trowthe holde, As every knyht therto is holde, What happ so evere him is befalle: Thogh sche be the fouleste of alle, Yet to thonour of wommanhiede Him thoghte he scholde taken hiede; 1720 So that for pure gentilesse, As he hire couthe best adresce, In ragges, as sche was totore, He set hire on his hors tofore And forth he takth his weie softe; No wonder thogh he siketh ofte. Bot as an oule fleth be nyhte Out of alle othre briddes syhte, Riht so this knyht on daies brode In clos him hield, and schop his rode 1730 On nyhtes time, til the tyde That he cam there he wolde abide; And prively withoute noise He bringth this foule grete Coise To his Castell in such a wise That noman myhte hire schappe avise, Til sche into the chambre cam: Wher he his prive conseil nam Of suche men as he most troste, And tolde hem that he nedes moste 1740 This beste wedde to his wif, For elles hadde he lost his lif. The prive wommen were asent, That scholden ben of his assent: Hire ragges thei anon of drawe, And, as it was that time lawe, She hadde bath, sche hadde reste, And was arraied to the beste. Bot with no craft of combes brode Thei myhte hire hore lockes schode, 1750 And sche ne wolde noght be schore For no conseil, and thei therfore, With such atyr as tho was used, Ordeinen that it was excused, And hid so crafteliche aboute, That noman myhte sen hem oute. Bot when sche was fulliche arraied And hire atyr was al assaied, Tho was sche foulere on to se: Bot yit it may non other be, 1760 Thei were wedded in the nyht; So wo begon was nevere knyht As he was thanne of mariage. And sche began to pleie and rage, As who seith, I am wel ynowh; Bot he therof nothing ne lowh, For sche tok thanne chiere on honde And clepeth him hire housebonde, And seith, "My lord, go we to bedde, For I to that entente wedde, 1770 That thou schalt be my worldes blisse:" And profreth him with that to kisse, As sche a lusti Lady were. His body myhte wel be there, Bot as of thoght and of memoire His herte was in purgatoire. Bot yit for strengthe of matrimoine He myhte make non essoine, That he ne mot algates plie To gon to bedde of compaignie: 1780 And whan thei were abedde naked, Withoute slep he was awaked; He torneth on that other side, For that he wolde hise yhen hyde Fro lokynge on that foule wyht. The chambre was al full of lyht, The courtins were of cendal thinne, This newe bryd which lay withinne, Thogh it be noght with his acord, In armes sche beclipte hire lord, 1790 And preide, as he was torned fro, He wolde him torne ayeinward tho; "For now," sche seith, "we ben bothe on." And he lay stille as eny ston, Bot evere in on sche spak and preide, And bad him thenke on that he seide, Whan that he tok hire be the hond. He herde and understod the bond, How he was set to his penance, And as it were a man in trance 1800 He torneth him al sodeinly, And syh a lady lay him by Of eyhtetiene wynter age, Which was the faireste of visage That evere in al this world he syh: And as he wolde have take hire nyh, Sche put hire hand and be his leve Besoghte him that he wolde leve, And seith that forto wynne or lese He mot on of tuo thinges chese, 1810 Wher he wol have hire such on nyht, Or elles upon daies lyht, For he schal noght have bothe tuo. And he began to sorwe tho, In many a wise and caste his thoght, Bot for al that yit cowthe he noght Devise himself which was the beste. And sche, that wolde his hertes reste, Preith that he scholde chese algate, Til ate laste longe and late 1820 He seide: "O ye, my lyves hele, Sey what you list in my querele, I not what ansuere I schal yive: Bot evere whil that I may live, I wol that ye be my maistresse, For I can noght miselve gesse Which is the beste unto my chois. Thus grante I yow myn hole vois, Ches for ous bothen, I you preie; And what as evere that ye seie, 1830 Riht as ye wole so wol I." "Mi lord," sche seide, " grant merci, For of this word that ye now sein, That ye have mad me soverein, Mi destine is overpassed, That nevere hierafter schal be lassed Mi beaute, which that I now have, Til I be take into my grave; Bot nyht and day as I am now I schal alwey be such to yow. 1840 The kinges dowhter of Cizile I am, and fell bot siththe awhile, As I was with my fader late, That my Stepmoder for an hate, Which toward me sche hath begonne, Forschop me, til I hadde wonne The love and sovereinete Of what knyht that in his degre Alle othre passeth of good name: And, as men sein, ye ben the same, 1850 The dede proeveth it is so; Thus am I youres evermo." Tho was plesance and joye ynowh, Echon with other pleide and lowh; Thei live longe and wel thei ferde, And clerkes that this chance herde Thei writen it in evidence, To teche how that obedience Mai wel fortune a man to love And sette him in his lust above, 1860 As it befell unto this knyht. Forthi, my Sone, if thou do ryht, Thou schalt unto thi love obeie, And folwe hir will be alle weie. Min holy fader, so I wile: For ye have told me such a skile Of this ensample now tofore, That I schal evermo therfore Hierafterward myn observance To love and to his obeissance 1870 The betre kepe: and over this Of pride if ther oght elles is, Wherof that I me schryve schal, What thing it is in special, Mi fader, axeth, I you preie. Now lest, my Sone, and I schal seie: For yit ther is Surquiderie, Which stant with Pride of compaignie; Wherof that thou schalt hiere anon, To knowe if thou have gult or non 1880 Upon the forme as thou schalt hiere: Now understond wel the matiere. Surquiderie is thilke vice Of Pride, which the thridde office Hath in his Court, and wol noght knowe The trowthe til it overthrowe. Upon his fortune and his grace Comth "Hadde I wist" fulofte aplace; For he doth al his thing be gesse, And voideth alle sikernesse. 1890 Non other conseil good him siemeth Bot such as he himselve diemeth; For in such wise as he compasseth, His wit al one alle othre passeth; And is with pride so thurghsoght, That he alle othre set at noght, And weneth of himselven so, That such as he ther be nomo, So fair, so semly, ne so wis; And thus he wolde bere a pris 1900 Above alle othre, and noght forthi He seith noght ones "grant mercy" To godd, which alle grace sendeth, So that his wittes he despendeth Upon himself, as thogh ther were No godd which myhte availe there: Bot al upon his oghne witt He stant, til he falle in the pitt So ferr that he mai noght arise. And riht thus in the same wise 1910 This vice upon the cause of love So proudly set the herte above, And doth him pleinly forto wene That he to loven eny qwene Hath worthinesse and sufficance; And so withoute pourveance Fulofte he heweth up so hihe, That chippes fallen in his yhe; And ek ful ofte he weneth this, Ther as he noght beloved is, 1920 To be beloved alther best. Now, Sone, tell what so thee lest Of this that I have told thee hier. Ha, fader, be noght in a wer: I trowe ther be noman lesse, Of eny maner worthinesse, That halt him lasse worth thanne I To be beloved; and noght forthi I seie in excusinge of me, To alle men that love is fre. 1930 And certes that mai noman werne; For love is of himself so derne, It luteth in a mannes herte: Bot that ne schal me noght asterte, To wene forto be worthi To loven, bot in hir mercy. Bot, Sire, of that ye wolden mene, That I scholde otherwise wene To be beloved thanne I was, I am beknowe as in that cas. 1940 Mi goode Sone, tell me how. Now lest, and I wol telle yow, Mi goode fader, how it is. Fulofte it hath befalle or this Thurgh hope that was noght certein, Mi wenynge hath be set in vein To triste in thing that halp me noght, Bot onliche of myn oughne thoght. For as it semeth that a belle Lik to the wordes that men telle 1950 Answerth, riht so ne mor ne lesse, To yow, my fader, I confesse, Such will my wit hath overset, That what so hope me behet, Ful many a time I wene it soth, Bot finali no spied it doth. Thus may I tellen, as I can, Wenyng beguileth many a man; So hath it me, riht wel I wot: For if a man wole in a Bot 1960 Which is withoute botme rowe, He moste nedes overthrowe. Riht so wenyng hath ferd be me: For whanne I wende next have be, As I be my wenynge caste, Thanne was I furthest ate laste, And as a foll my bowe unbende, Whan al was failed that I wende. Forthi, my fader, as of this, That my wenynge hath gon amis 1970 Touchende to Surquiderie, Yif me my penance er I die. Bot if ye wolde in eny forme Of this matiere a tale enforme, Which were ayein this vice set, I scholde fare wel the bet. Mi Sone, in alle maner wise Surquiderie is to despise, Wherof I finde write thus. The proude knyht Capane
s 1980 He was of such Surquiderie, That he thurgh his chivalerie Upon himself so mochel triste, That to the goddes him ne liste In no querele to beseche, Bot seide it was an ydel speche, Which caused was of pure drede, For lack of herte and for no nede. And upon such presumpcioun He hield this proude opinioun, 1990 Til ate laste upon a dai, Aboute Thebes wher he lay, Whan it of Siege was belein, This knyht, as the Croniqes sein, In alle mennes sihte there, Whan he was proudest in his gere, And thoghte how nothing myhte him dere, Ful armed with his schield and spere As he the Cite wolde assaile, Godd tok himselve the bataille 2000 Ayein his Pride, and fro the sky A firy thonder sodeinly He sende, and him to pouldre smot. And thus the Pride which was hot, Whan he most in his strengthe wende, Was brent and lost withouten ende: So that it proeveth wel therfore, The strengthe of man is sone lore, Bot if that he it wel governe. And over this a man mai lerne 2010 That ek fulofte time it grieveth, Whan that a man himself believeth, As thogh it scholde him wel beseme That he alle othre men can deme, And hath foryete his oghne vice. A tale of hem that ben so nyce, And feigne hemself to be so wise, I schal thee telle in such a wise, Wherof thou schalt ensample take That thou no such thing undertake. 2020 I finde upon Surquiderie, How that whilom of Hungarie Be olde daies was a King Wys and honeste in alle thing: And so befell upon a dai, And that was in the Monthe of Maii, As thilke time it was usance, This kyng with noble pourveance Hath for himself his Charr araied, Wher inne he wolde ride amaied 2030 Out of the Cite forto pleie, With lordes and with gret nobleie Of lusti folk that were yonge: Wher some pleide and some songe, And some gon and some ryde, And some prike here hors aside And bridlen hem now in now oute. The kyng his yhe caste aboute, Til he was ate laste war And syh comende ayein his char 2040 Two pilegrins of so gret age, That lich unto a dreie ymage Thei weren pale and fade hewed, And as a bussh which is besnewed, Here berdes weren hore and whyte; Ther was of kinde bot a lite, That thei ne semen fulli dede. Thei comen to the kyng and bede Som of his good par charite; And he with gret humilite 2050 Out of his Char to grounde lepte, And hem in bothe hise armes kepte And keste hem bothe fot and hond Before the lordes of his lond, And yaf hem of his good therto: And whanne he hath this dede do, He goth into his char ayein. Tho was Murmur, tho was desdeign, Tho was compleignte on every side, Thei seiden of here oghne Pride 2060 Eche until othre: "What is this? Oure king hath do this thing amis, So to abesse his realte That every man it myhte se, And humbled him in such a wise To hem that were of non emprise." Thus was it spoken to and fro Of hem that were with him tho Al prively behinde his bak; Bot to himselven noman spak. 2070 The kinges brother in presence Was thilke time, and gret offence He tok therof, and was the same Above alle othre which most blame Upon his liege lord hath leid, And hath unto the lordes seid, Anon as he mai time finde, Ther schal nothing be left behinde, That he wol speke unto the king. Now lest what fell upon this thing. 2080 The day was merie and fair ynowh, Echon with othre pleide and lowh, And fellen into tales newe, How that the freisshe floures grewe, And how the grene leves spronge, And how that love among the yonge Began the hertes thanne awake, And every bridd hath chose hire make: And thus the Maies day to thende Thei lede, and hom ayein thei wende. 2090 The king was noght so sone come, That whanne he hadde his chambre nome, His brother ne was redi there, And broghte a tale unto his Ere Of that he dede such a schame In hindringe of his oghne name, Whan he himself so wolde drecche, That to so vil a povere wrecche Him deigneth schewe such simplesce Ayein thastat of his noblesce: 2100 And seith he schal it nomor use, And that he mot himself excuse Toward hise lordes everychon. The king stod stille as eny ston, And to his tale an Ere he leide, And thoghte more than he seide: Bot natheles to that he herde Wel cortaisly the king answerde, And tolde it scholde be amended. And thus whan that her tale is ended, 2110 Al redy was the bord and cloth, The king unto his Souper goth Among the lordes to the halle; And whan thei hadden souped alle, Thei token leve and forth thei go. The king bethoghte himselve tho How he his brother mai chastie, That he thurgh his Surquiderie Tok upon honde to despreise Humilite, which is to preise, 2120 And therupon yaf such conseil Toward his king that was noght heil; Wherof to be the betre lered, He thenkth to maken him afered. It fell so that in thilke dawe Ther was ordeined be the lawe A trompe with a sterne breth, Which cleped was the Trompe of deth: And in the Court wher the king was A certein man this Trompe of bras 2130 Hath in kepinge, and therof serveth, That whan a lord his deth deserveth, He schal this dredful trompe blowe Tofore his gate, and make it knowe How that the jugement is yove Of deth, which schal noght be foryove. The king, whan it was nyht, anon This man asente and bad him gon To trompen at his brother gate; And he, which mot so don algate, 2140 Goth forth and doth the kynges heste. This lord, which herde of this tempeste That he tofore his gate blew, Tho wiste he be the lawe and knew That he was sikerliche ded: And as of help he wot no red, Bot sende for hise frendes alle And tolde hem how it is befalle. And thei him axe cause why; Bot he the sothe noght forthi 2150 Ne wiste, and ther was sorwe tho: For it stod thilke tyme so, This trompe was of such sentence, That therayein no resistence Thei couthe ordeine be no weie, That he ne mot algate deie, Bot if so that he may pourchace To gete his liege lordes grace. Here wittes therupon thei caste, And ben apointed ate laste. 2160 This lord a worthi ladi hadde Unto his wif, which also dradde Hire lordes deth, and children five Betwen hem two thei hadde alyve, That weren yonge and tendre of age, And of stature and of visage Riht faire and lusty on to se. Tho casten thei that he and sche Forth with here children on the morwe, As thei that were full of sorwe, 2170 Al naked bot of smok and scherte, To tendre with the kynges herte, His grace scholden go to seche And pardoun of the deth beseche. Thus passen thei that wofull nyht, And erly, whan thei sihe it lyht, Thei gon hem forth in such a wise As thou tofore hast herd devise, Al naked bot here schortes one. Thei wepte and made mochel mone, 2180 Here Her hangende aboute here Eres; With sobbinge and with sory teres This lord goth thanne an humble pas, That whilom proud and noble was; Wherof the Cite sore afflyhte, Of hem that sihen thilke syhte: And natheless al openly With such wepinge and with such cri Forth with hise children and his wif He goth to preie for his lif. 2190 Unto the court whan thei be come, And men therinne have hiede nome, Ther was no wiht, if he hem syhe, Fro water mihte kepe his yhe For sorwe which thei maden tho. The king supposeth of this wo, And feigneth as he noght ne wiste; Bot natheles at his upriste Men tolden him how that it ferde: And whan that he this wonder herde, 2200 In haste he goth into the halle, And alle at ones doun thei falle, If eny pite may be founde. The king, which seth hem go to grounde, Hath axed hem what is the fere, Why thei be so despuiled there. His brother seide: "Ha lord, mercy! I wot non other cause why, Bot only that this nyht ful late The trompe of deth was at my gate 2210 In tokne that I scholde deie; Thus be we come forto preie That ye mi worldes deth respite." "Ha fol, how thou art forto wyte," The king unto his brother seith, "That thou art of so litel feith, That only for a trompes soun Hast gon despuiled thurgh the toun, Thou and thi wif in such manere Forth with thi children that ben here, 2220 In sihte of alle men aboute, For that thou seist thou art in doute Of deth, which stant under the lawe Of man, and man it mai withdrawe, So that it mai par chance faile. Now schalt thou noght forthi mervaile That I doun fro my Charr alihte, Whanne I behield tofore my sihte In hem that were of so grete age Min oghne deth thurgh here ymage, 2230 Which god hath set be lawe of kynde, Wherof I mai no bote finde: For wel I wot, such as thei be, Riht such am I in my degree, Of fleissh and blod, and so schal deie. And thus, thogh I that lawe obeie Of which the kinges ben put under, It oghte ben wel lasse wonder Than thou, which art withoute nede For lawe of londe in such a drede, 2240 Which for tacompte is bot a jape, As thing which thou miht overscape. Forthi, mi brother, after this I rede, sithen that so is That thou canst drede a man so sore, Dred god with al thin herte more: For al schal deie and al schal passe, Als wel a Leoun as an asse, Als wel a beggere as a lord, Towardes deth in on acord 2250 Thei schullen stonde." And in this wise The king hath with hise wordes wise His brother tawht and al foryive. Forthi, mi Sone, if thou wolt live In vertu, thou most vice eschuie, And with low herte humblesce suie, So that thou be noght surquidous. Mi fader, I am amorous, Wherof I wolde you beseche That ye me som ensample teche, 2260 Which mihte in loves cause stonde. Mi Sone, thou schalt understonde, In love and othre thinges alle If that Surquiderie falle, It may to him noght wel betide Which useth thilke vice of Pride, Which torneth wisdom to wenynge And Sothfastnesse into lesynge Thurgh fol ymaginacion. And for thin enformacion, 2270 That thou this vice as I the rede Eschuie schalt, a tale I rede, Which fell whilom be daies olde, So as the clerk Ovide tolde. Ther was whilom a lordes Sone, Which of his Pride a nyce wone Hath cawht, that worthi to his liche, To sechen al the worldes riche, Ther was no womman forto love. So hihe he sette himselve above 2280 Of stature and of beaute bothe, That him thoghte alle wommen lothe: So was ther no comparisoun As toward his condicioun. This yonge lord Narcizus hihte: No strengthe of love bowe mihte His herte, which is unaffiled; Bot ate laste he was beguiled: For of the goddes pourveance It fell him on a dai par chance, 2290 That he in all his proude fare Unto the forest gan to fare, Amonges othre that ther were To hunte and to desporte him there. And whanne he cam into the place Wher that he wolde make his chace, The houndes weren in a throwe Uncoupled and the hornes blowe: The grete hert anon was founde, Which swifte feet sette upon grounde, 2300 And he with spore in horse side Him hasteth faste forto ride, Til alle men be left behinde. And as he rod, under a linde Beside a roche, as I thee telle, He syh wher sprong a lusty welle: The day was wonder hot withalle, And such a thurst was on him falle, That he moste owther deie or drinke; And doun he lihte and be the brinke 2310 He teide his Hors unto a braunche, And leide him lowe forto staunche His thurst: and as he caste his lok Into the welle and hiede tok, He sih the like of his visage, And wende ther were an ymage Of such a Nimphe as tho was faie, Wherof that love his herte assaie Began, as it was after sene, Of his sotie and made him wene 2320 It were a womman that he syh. The more he cam the welle nyh, The nerr cam sche to him ayein; So wiste he nevere what to sein; For whanne he wepte, he sih hire wepe, And whanne he cride, he tok good kepe, The same word sche cride also: And thus began the newe wo, That whilom was to him so strange; Tho made him love an hard eschange, 2330 To sette his herte and to beginne Thing which he mihte nevere winne. And evere among he gan to loute, And preith that sche to him come oute; And otherwhile he goth a ferr, And otherwhile he draweth nerr, And evere he fond hire in o place. He wepth, he crith, he axeth grace, There as he mihte gete non; So that ayein a Roche of Ston, 2340 As he that knew non other red, He smot himself til he was ded. Wherof the Nimphes of the welles, And othre that ther weren elles Unto the wodes belongende, The body, which was ded ligende, For pure pite that thei have Under the grene thei begrave. And thanne out of his sepulture Ther sprong anon par aventure 2350 Of floures such a wonder syhte, That men ensample take myhte Upon the dedes whiche he dede, As tho was sene in thilke stede; For in the wynter freysshe and faire The floures ben, which is contraire To kynde, and so was the folie Which fell of his Surquiderie. Thus he, which love hadde in desdeign, Worste of all othre was besein, 2360 And as he sette his pris most hyhe, He was lest worth in loves yhe And most bejaped in his wit: Wherof the remembrance is yit, So that thou myht ensample take, And ek alle othre for his sake. Mi fader, as touchende of me, This vice I thenke forto fle, Which of his wenynge overtroweth; And nameliche of thing which groweth 2370 In loves cause or wel or wo Yit pryded I me nevere so. Bot wolde god that grace sende, That toward me my lady wende As I towardes hire wene! Mi love scholde so be sene, Ther scholde go no pride a place. Bot I am ferr fro thilke grace, As forto speke of tyme now; So mot I soffre, and preie yow 2380 That ye wole axe on other side If ther be eny point of Pride, Wherof it nedeth to be schrive. Mi Sone, godd it thee foryive, If thou have eny thing misdo Touchende of this, bot overmo Ther is an other yit of Pride, Which nevere cowthe hise wordes hide, That he ne wole himself avaunte; Ther mai nothing his tunge daunte, 2390 That he ne clappeth as a Belle: Wherof if thou wolt that I telle, It is behovely forto hiere, So that thou myht thi tunge stiere, Toward the world and stonde in grace, Which lacketh ofte in many place To him that can noght sitte stille, Which elles scholde have al his wille. The vice cleped Avantance With Pride hath take his aqueintance, 2400 So that his oghne pris he lasseth, When he such mesure overpasseth That he his oghne Herald is. That ferst was wel is thanne mis, That was thankworth is thanne blame, And thus the worschipe of his name Thurgh pride of his avantarie He torneth into vilenie. I rede how that this proude vice Hath thilke wynd in his office, 2410 Which thurgh the blastes that he bloweth The mannes fame he overthroweth Of vertu, which scholde elles springe Into the worldes knowlechinge; Bot he fordoth it alto sore. And riht of such a maner lore Ther ben lovers: forthi if thow Art on of hem, tell and sei how. Whan thou hast taken eny thing Of loves yifte, or Nouche or ring, 2420 Or tok upon thee for the cold Som goodly word that thee was told, Or frendly chiere or tokne or lettre, Wherof thin herte was the bettre, Or that sche sende the grietinge, Hast thou for Pride of thi likinge Mad thin avant wher as the liste? I wolde, fader, that ye wiste, Mi conscience lith noght hiere: Yit hadde I nevere such matiere, 2430 Wherof min herte myhte amende, Noght of so mochel that sche sende Be mowthe and seide, "Griet him wel:" And thus for that ther is no diel Wherof to make myn avant, It is to reson acordant That I mai nevere, bot I lye, Of love make avanterie. I wot noght what I scholde have do, If that I hadde encheson so, 2440 As ye have seid hier manyon; Bot I fond cause nevere non: Bot daunger, which welnyh me slowh, Therof I cowthe telle ynowh, And of non other Avantance: Thus nedeth me no repentance. Now axeth furthere of my lif, For hierof am I noght gultif. Mi Sone, I am wel paid withal; For wite it wel in special 2450 That love of his verrai justice Above alle othre ayein this vice At alle times most debateth, With al his herte and most it hateth. And ek in alle maner wise Avantarie is to despise, As be ensample thou myht wite, Which I finde in the bokes write. Of hem that we Lombars now calle Albinus was the ferste of alle 2460 Which bar corone of Lombardie, And was of gret chivalerie In werre ayein diverse kinges. So fell amonges othre thinges, That he that time a werre hadde With Gurmond, which the Geptes ladde, And was a myhti kyng also: Bot natheles it fell him so, Albinus slowh him in the feld, Ther halp him nowther swerd ne scheld, 2470 That he ne smot his hed of thanne, Wherof he tok awey the Panne, Of which he seide he wolde make A Cuppe for Gurmoundes sake, To kepe and drawe into memoire Of his bataille the victoire. And thus whan he the feld hath wonne, The lond anon was overronne And sesed in his oghne hond, Wher he Gurmondes dowhter fond, 2480 Which Maide Rosemounde hihte, And was in every mannes sihte A fair, a freissh, a lusti on. His herte fell to hire anon, And such a love on hire he caste, That he hire weddeth ate laste; And after that long time in reste With hire he duelte, and to the beste Thei love ech other wonder wel. Bot sche which kepth the blinde whel, 2490 Venus, whan thei be most above, In al the hoteste of here love, Hire whiel sche torneth, and thei felle In the manere as I schal telle. This king, which stod in al his welthe Of pes, of worschipe and of helthe, And felte him on no side grieved, As he that hath his world achieved, Tho thoghte he wolde a feste make; And that was for his wyves sake, 2500 That sche the lordes ate feste, That were obeissant to his heste, Mai knowe: and so forth therupon He let ordeine, and sende anon Be lettres and be messagiers, And warnede alle hise officiers That every thing be wel arraied: The grete Stiedes were assaied For joustinge and for tornement, And many a perled garnement 2510 Embroudred was ayein the dai. The lordes in here beste arrai Be comen ate time set, On jousteth wel, an other bet, And otherwhile thei torneie, And thus thei casten care aweie And token lustes upon honde. And after, thou schalt understonde, To mete into the kinges halle Thei come, as thei be beden alle: 2520 And whan thei were set and served, Thanne after, as it was deserved, To hem that worthi knyhtes were, So as thei seten hiere and there, The pris was yove and spoken oute Among the heraldz al aboute. And thus benethe and ek above Al was of armes and of love, Wherof abouten ate bordes Men hadde manye sondri wordes, 2530 That of the merthe which thei made The king himself began to glade Withinne his herte and tok a pride, And sih the Cuppe stonde aside, Which mad was of Gurmoundes hed, As ye have herd, whan he was ded, And was with gold and riche Stones Beset and bounde for the nones, And stod upon a fot on heihte Of burned gold, and with gret sleihte 2540 Of werkmanschipe it was begrave Of such werk as it scholde have, And was policed ek so clene That no signe of the Skulle is sene, Bot as it were a Gripes Ey. The king bad bere his Cuppe awey, Which stod tofore him on the bord, And fette thilke. Upon his word This Skulle is fet and wyn therinne, Wherof he bad his wif beginne: 2550 "Drink with thi fader, Dame," he seide. And sche to his biddinge obeide, And tok the Skulle, and what hire liste Sche drank, as sche which nothing wiste What Cuppe it was: and thanne al oute The kyng in audience aboute Hath told it was hire fader Skulle, So that the lordes knowe schulle Of his bataille a soth witnesse, And made avant thurgh what prouesse 2560 He hath his wyves love wonne, Which of the Skulle hath so begonne. Tho was ther mochel Pride alofte, Thei speken alle, and sche was softe, Thenkende on thilke unkynde Pride, Of that hire lord so nyh hire side Avanteth him that he hath slain And piked out hire fader brain, And of the Skulle had mad a Cuppe. Sche soffreth al til thei were uppe, 2570 And tho sche hath seknesse feigned, And goth to chambre and hath compleigned Unto a Maide which sche triste, So that non other wyht it wiste. This Mayde Glodeside is hote, To whom this lady hath behote Of ladischipe al that sche can, To vengen hire upon this man, Which dede hire drinke in such a plit Among hem alle for despit 2580 Of hire and of hire fader bothe; Wherof hire thoghtes ben so wrothe, Sche seith, that sche schal noght be glad, Til that sche se him so bestad That he nomore make avant. And thus thei felle in covenant, That thei acorden ate laste, With suche wiles as thei caste That thei wol gete of here acord Som orped knyht to sle this lord: 2590 And with this sleihte thei beginne, How thei Helmege myhten winne, Which was the kinges Boteler, A proud a lusti Bacheler, And Glodeside he loveth hote. And sche, to make him more assote, Hire love granteth, and be nyhte Thei schape how thei togedre myhte Abedde meete: and don it was This same nyht; and in this cas 2600 The qwene hirself the nyht secounde Wente in hire stede, and there hath founde A chambre derk withoute liht, And goth to bedde to this knyht. And he, to kepe his observance, To love doth his obeissance, And weneth it be Glodeside; And sche thanne after lay aside, And axeth him what he hath do, And who sche was sche tolde him tho, 2610 And seide: "Helmege, I am thi qwene, Now schal thi love wel be sene Of that thou hast thi wille wroght: Or it schal sore ben aboght, Or thou schalt worche as I thee seie. And if thou wolt be such a weie Do my plesance and holde it stille, For evere I schal ben at thi wille, Bothe I and al myn heritage." Anon the wylde loves rage, 2620 In which noman him can governe, Hath mad him that he can noght werne, Bot fell al hol to hire assent: And thus the whiel is al miswent, The which fortune hath upon honde; For how that evere it after stonde, Thei schope among hem such a wyle, The king was ded withinne a whyle. So slihly cam it noght aboute That thei ne ben descoevered oute, 2630 So that it thoghte hem for the beste To fle, for there was no reste: And thus the tresor of the king Thei trusse and mochel other thing, And with a certein felaschipe Thei fledde and wente awey be schipe, And hielde here rihte cours fro thenne, Til that thei come to Ravenne, Wher thei the Dukes helpe soghte. And he, so as thei him besoghte, 2640 A place granteth forto duelle; Bot after, whan he herde telle Of the manere how thei have do, This Duk let schape for hem so, That of a puison which thei drunke Thei hadden that thei have beswunke. And al this made avant of Pride: Good is therfore a man to hide His oghne pris, for if he speke, He mai lihtliche his thonk tobreke. 2650 In armes lith non avantance To him which thenkth his name avance And be renomed of his dede: And also who that thenkth to spede Of love, he mai him noght avaunte; For what man thilke vice haunte, His pourpos schal fulofte faile. In armes he that wol travaile Or elles loves grace atteigne, His lose tunge he mot restreigne, 2660 Which berth of his honour the keie. Forthi, my Sone, in alle weie Tak riht good hiede of this matiere. I thonke you, my fader diere, This scole is of a gentil lore; And if ther be oght elles more Of Pride, which I schal eschuie, Now axeth forth, and I wol suie What thing that ye me wole enforme. Mi Sone, yit in other forme 2670 Ther is a vice of Prides lore, Which lich an hauk whan he wol sore, Fleith upon heihte in his delices After the likynge of his vices, And wol no mannes resoun knowe, Till he doun falle and overthrowe. This vice veine gloire is hote, Wherof, my Sone, I thee behote To trete and speke in such a wise, That thou thee myht the betre avise. 2680 The proude vice of veine gloire Remembreth noght of purgatoire, Hise worldes joyes ben so grete, Him thenkth of hevene no beyete; This lives Pompe is al his pes: Yit schal he deie natheles, And therof thenkth he bot a lite, For al his lust is to delite In newe thinges, proude and veine, Als ferforth as he mai atteigne. 2690 I trowe, if that he myhte make His body newe, he wolde take A newe forme and leve his olde: For what thing that he mai beholde, The which to comun us is strange, Anon his olde guise change He wole and falle therupon, Lich unto the Camelion, Which upon every sondri hewe That he beholt he moste newe 2700 His colour, and thus unavised Fulofte time he stant desguised. Mor jolif than the brid in Maii He makth him evere freissh and gay, And doth al his array desguise, So that of him the newe guise Of lusti folk alle othre take; And ek he can carolles make, Rondeal, balade and virelai. And with al this, if that he may 2710 Of love gete him avantage, Anon he wext of his corage So overglad, that of his ende Him thenkth ther is no deth comende: For he hath thanne at alle tide Of love such a maner pride, Him thenkth his joie is endeles. Now schrif thee, Sone, in godes pes, And of thi love tell me plein If that thi gloire hath be so vein. 2720 Mi fader, as touchinge of al I may noght wel ne noght ne schal Of veine gloire excuse me, That I ne have for love be The betre adresced and arraied; And also I have ofte assaied Rondeal, balade and virelai For hire on whom myn herte lai To make, and also forto peinte Caroles with my wordes qweinte, 2730 To sette my pourpos alofte; And thus I sang hem forth fulofte In halle and ek in chambre aboute, And made merie among the route, Bot yit ne ferde I noght the bet. Thus was my gloire in vein beset Of al the joie that I made; For whanne I wolde with hire glade, And of hire love songes make, Sche saide it was noght for hir sake, 2740 And liste noght my songes hiere Ne witen what the wordes were. So forto speke of myn arrai, Yit couthe I nevere be so gay Ne so wel make a songe of love, Wherof I myhte ben above And have encheson to be glad; Bot rathere I am ofte adrad For sorwe that sche seith me nay. And natheles I wol noght say, 2750 That I nam glad on other side; For fame, that can nothing hide, Alday wol bringe unto myn Ere Of that men speken hier and there, How that my ladi berth the pris, How sche is fair, how sche is wis, How sche is wommanlich of chiere; Of al this thing whanne I mai hiere, What wonder is thogh I be fain? And ek whanne I may hiere sain 2760 Tidinges of my ladi hele, Althogh I may noght with hir dele, Yit am I wonder glad of that; For whanne I wot hire good astat, As for that time I dar wel swere, Non other sorwe mai me dere, Thus am I gladed in this wise. Bot, fader, of youre lores wise, Of whiche ye be fully tawht, Now tell me if yow thenketh awht 2770 That I therof am forto wyte. Of that ther is I thee acquite, Mi sone, he seide, and for thi goode I wolde that thou understode: For I thenke upon this matiere To telle a tale, as thou schalt hiere, How that ayein this proude vice The hihe god of his justice Is wroth and gret vengance doth. Now herkne a tale that is soth: 2780 Thogh it be noght of loves kinde, A gret ensample thou schalt finde This veine gloire forto fle, Which is so full of vanite. Ther was a king that mochel myhte, Which Nabugodonosor hihte, Of whom that I spak hier tofore. Yit in the bible his name is bore, For al the world in Orient Was hol at his comandement: 2790 As thanne of kinges to his liche Was non so myhty ne so riche; To his Empire and to his lawes, As who seith, alle in thilke dawes Were obeissant and tribut bere, As thogh he godd of Erthe were. With strengthe he putte kinges under, And wroghte of Pride many a wonder; He was so full of veine gloire, That he ne hadde no memoire 2800 That ther was eny good bot he, For pride of his prosperite; Til that the hihe king of kinges, Which seth and knoweth alle thinges, Whos yhe mai nothing asterte,- The privetes of mannes herte Thei speke and sounen in his Ere As thogh thei lowde wyndes were,- He tok vengance upon this pride. Bot for he wolde awhile abide 2810 To loke if he him wolde amende, To him a foretokne he sende, And that was in his slep be nyhte. This proude kyng a wonder syhte Hadde in his swevene, ther he lay: Him thoghte, upon a merie day As he behield the world aboute, A tree fulgrowe he syh theroute, Which stod the world amiddes evene, Whos heihte straghte up to the hevene; 2820 The leves weren faire and large, Of fruit it bar so ripe a charge, That alle men it myhte fede: He sih also the bowes spriede Above al Erthe, in whiche were The kinde of alle briddes there; And eke him thoghte he syh also The kinde of alle bestes go Under this tre aboute round And fedden hem upon the ground. 2830 As he this wonder stod and syh, Him thoghte he herde a vois on hih Criende, and seide aboven alle: "Hew doun this tree and lett it falle, The leves let defoule in haste And do the fruit destruie and waste, And let of schreden every braunche, Bot ate Rote let it staunche. Whan al his Pride is cast to grounde, The rote schal be faste bounde, 2840 And schal no mannes herte bere, Bot every lust he schal forbere Of man, and lich an Oxe his mete Of gras he schal pourchace and ete, Til that the water of the hevene Have waisshen him be times sevene, So that he be thurghknowe ariht What is the heveneliche myht, And be mad humble to the wille Of him which al mai save and spille." 2850 This king out of his swefne abreide, And he upon the morwe it seide Unto the clerkes whiche he hadde: Bot non of hem the sothe aradde, Was non his swevene cowthe undo. And it stod thilke time so, This king hadde in subjeccioun Judee, and of affeccioun Above alle othre on Daniel He loveth, for he cowthe wel 2860 Divine that non other cowthe: To him were alle thinges cowthe, As he it hadde of goddes grace. He was before the kinges face Asent, and bode that he scholde Upon the point the king of tolde The fortune of his swevene expounde, As it scholde afterward be founde. Whan Daniel this swevene herde, He stod long time er he ansuerde, 2870 And made a wonder hevy chiere. The king tok hiede of his manere, And bad him telle that he wiste, As he to whom he mochel triste, And seide he wolde noght be wroth. Bot Daniel was wonder loth, And seide: "Upon thi fomen alle, Sire king, thi swevene mote falle; And natheles touchende of this I wol the tellen how it is, 2880 And what desese is to thee schape: God wot if thou it schalt ascape. The hihe tree, which thou hast sein With lef and fruit so wel besein, The which stod in the world amiddes, So that the bestes and the briddes Governed were of him al one, Sire king, betokneth thi persone, Which stant above all erthli thinges. Thus regnen under the the kinges, 2890 And al the poeple unto thee louteth, And al the world thi pouer doubteth, So that with vein honour deceived Thou hast the reverence weyved Fro him which is thi king above, That thou for drede ne for love Wolt nothing knowen of thi godd; Which now for thee hath mad a rodd, Thi veine gloire and thi folie With grete peines to chastie. 2900 And of the vois thou herdest speke, Which bad the bowes forto breke And hewe and felle doun the tree, That word belongeth unto thee; Thi regne schal ben overthrowe, And thou despuiled for a throwe: Bot that the Rote scholde stonde, Be that thou schalt wel understonde, Ther schal abyden of thi regne A time ayein whan thou schalt regne. 2910 And ek of that thou herdest seie, To take a mannes herte aweie And sette there a bestial, So that he lich an Oxe schal Pasture, and that he be bereined Be times sefne and sore peined, Til that he knowe his goddes mihtes, Than scholde he stonde ayein uprihtes,- Al this betokneth thin astat, Which now with god is in debat: 2920 Thi mannes forme schal be lassed, Til sevene yer ben overpassed, And in the liknesse of a beste Of gras schal be thi real feste, The weder schal upon thee reine. And understond that al this peine, Which thou schalt soffre thilke tide, Is schape al only for thi pride Of veine gloire, and of the sinne Which thou hast longe stonden inne. 2930 So upon this condicioun Thi swevene hath exposicioun. Bot er this thing befalle in dede, Amende thee, this wolde I rede: Yif and departe thin almesse, Do mercy forth with rihtwisnesse, Besech and prei the hihe grace, For so thou myht thi pes pourchace With godd, and stonde in good acord." Bot Pride is loth to leve his lord, 2940 And wol noght soffre humilite With him to stonde in no degree; And whan a schip hath lost his stiere, Is non so wys that mai him stiere Ayein the wawes in a rage. This proude king in his corage Humilite hath so forlore, That for no swevene he sih tofore, Ne yit for al that Daniel Him hath conseiled everydel, 2950 He let it passe out of his mynde, Thurgh veine gloire, and as the blinde, He seth no weie, er him be wo. And fell withinne a time so, As he in Babiloine wente, The vanite of Pride him hente; His herte aros of veine gloire, So that he drowh into memoire His lordschipe and his regalie With wordes of Surquiderie. 2960 And whan that he him most avaunteth, That lord which veine gloire daunteth, Al sodeinliche, as who seith treis, Wher that he stod in his Paleis, He tok him fro the mennes sihte: Was non of hem so war that mihte Sette yhe wher that he becom. And thus was he from his kingdom Into the wilde Forest drawe, Wher that the myhti goddes lawe 2970 Thurgh his pouer dede him transforme Fro man into a bestes forme; And lich an Oxe under the fot He graseth, as he nedes mot, To geten him his lives fode. Tho thoghte him colde grases goode, That whilom eet the hote spices, Thus was he torned fro delices: The wyn which he was wont to drinke He tok thanne of the welles brinke 2980 Or of the pet or of the slowh, It thoghte him thanne good ynowh: In stede of chambres wel arraied He was thanne of a buissh wel paied, The harde ground he lay upon, For othre pilwes hath he non; The stormes and the Reines falle, The wyndes blowe upon him alle, He was tormented day and nyht, Such was the hihe goddes myht, 2990 Til sevene yer an ende toke. Upon himself tho gan he loke; In stede of mete gras and stres, In stede of handes longe cles, In stede of man a bestes lyke He syh; and thanne he gan to syke For cloth of gold and for perrie, Which him was wont to magnefie. Whan he behield his Cote of heres, He wepte and with fulwoful teres 3000 Up to the hevene he caste his chiere Wepende, and thoghte in this manere; Thogh he no wordes myhte winne, Thus seide his herte and spak withinne: "O mihti godd, that al hast wroght And al myht bringe ayein to noght, Now knowe I wel, bot al of thee, This world hath no prosperite: In thin aspect ben alle liche, The povere man and ek the riche, 3010 Withoute thee ther mai no wight, And thou above alle othre miht. O mihti lord, toward my vice Thi merci medle with justice; And I woll make a covenant, That of my lif the remenant I schal it be thi grace amende, And in thi lawe so despende That veine gloire I schal eschuie, And bowe unto thin heste and suie 3020 Humilite, and that I vowe." And so thenkende he gan doun bowe, And thogh him lacke vois and speche, He gan up with his feet areche, And wailende in his bestly stevene He made his pleignte unto the hevene. He kneleth in his wise and braieth, To seche merci and assaieth His god, which made him nothing strange, Whan that he sih his pride change. 3030 Anon as he was humble and tame, He fond toward his god the same, And in a twinklinge of a lok His mannes forme ayein he tok, And was reformed to the regne In which that he was wont to regne; So that the Pride of veine gloire Evere afterward out of memoire He let it passe. And thus is schewed What is to ben of Pride unthewed 3040 Ayein the hihe goddes lawe, To whom noman mai be felawe. Forthi, my Sone, tak good hiede So forto lede thi manhiede, That thou ne be noght lich a beste. Bot if thi lif schal ben honeste, Thou most humblesce take on honde, For thanne myht thou siker stonde: And forto speke it otherwise, A proud man can no love assise; 3050 For thogh a womman wolde him plese, His Pride can noght ben at ese. Ther mai noman to mochel blame A vice which is forto blame; Forthi men scholde nothing hide That mihte falle in blame of Pride, Which is the werste vice of alle: Wherof, so as it was befalle, The tale I thenke of a Cronique To telle, if that it mai thee like, 3060 So that thou myht humblesce suie And ek the vice of Pride eschuie, Wherof the gloire is fals and vein; Which god himself hath in desdeign, That thogh it mounte for a throwe, It schal doun falle and overthrowe. A king whilom was yong and wys, The which sette of his wit gret pris. Of depe ymaginaciouns And strange interpretaciouns, 3070 Problemes and demandes eke, His wisdom was to finde and seke; Wherof he wolde in sondri wise Opposen hem that weren wise. Bot non of hem it myhte bere Upon his word to yeve answere, Outaken on, which was a knyht; To him was every thing so liht, That also sone as he hem herde, The kinges wordes he answerde; 3080 What thing the king him axe wolde, Therof anon the trowthe he tolde. The king somdiel hadde an Envie, And thoghte he wolde his wittes plie To sette som conclusioun, Which scholde be confusioun Unto this knyht, so that the name And of wisdom the hihe fame Toward himself he wolde winne. And thus of al his wit withinne 3090 This king began to studie and muse, What strange matiere he myhte use The knyhtes wittes to confounde; And ate laste he hath it founde, And for the knyht anon he sente, That he schal telle what he mente. Upon thre pointz stod the matiere Of questions, as thou schalt hiere. The ferste point of alle thre Was this: "What thing in his degre 3100 Of al this world hath nede lest, And yet men helpe it althermest?" The secounde is: "What most is worth, And of costage is lest put forth?" The thridde is: "Which is of most cost, And lest is worth and goth to lost?" The king thes thre demandes axeth, And to the knyht this lawe he taxeth, That he schal gon and come ayein The thridde weke, and telle him plein 3110 To every point, what it amonteth. And if so be that he misconteth, To make in his answere a faile, Ther schal non other thing availe, The king seith, bot he schal be ded And lese hise goodes and his hed. The knyht was sori of this thing And wolde excuse him to the king, Bot he ne wolde him noght forbere, And thus the knyht of his ansuere 3120 Goth hom to take avisement: Bot after his entendement The more he caste his wit aboute, The more he stant therof in doute. Tho wiste he wel the kinges herte, That he the deth ne scholde asterte, And such a sorwe hath to him take, That gladschipe he hath al forsake. He thoghte ferst upon his lif, And after that upon his wif, 3130 Upon his children ek also, Of whiche he hadde dowhtres tuo; The yongest of hem hadde of age Fourtiene yer, and of visage Sche was riht fair, and of stature Lich to an hevenely figure, And of manere and goodli speche, Thogh men wolde alle Londes seche, Thei scholden noght have founde hir like. Sche sih hire fader sorwe and sike, 3140 And wiste noght the cause why; So cam sche to him prively, And that was where he made his mone Withinne a Gardin al him one; Upon hire knes sche gan doun falle With humble herte and to him calle, And seide: "O goode fader diere, Why make ye thus hevy chiere, And I wot nothing how it is? And wel ye knowen, fader, this, 3150 What aventure that you felle Ye myhte it saufly to me telle, For I have ofte herd you seid, That ye such trust have on me leid, That to my soster ne my brother, In al this world ne to non other, Ye dorste telle a privite So wel, my fader, as to me. Forthi, my fader, I you preie, Ne casteth noght that herte aweie, 3160 For I am sche that wolde kepe Youre honour." And with that to wepe Hire yhe mai noght be forbore, Sche wissheth forto ben unbore, Er that hire fader so mistriste To tellen hire of that he wiste: And evere among merci sche cride, That he ne scholde his conseil hide From hire that so wolde him good And was so nyh his fleissh and blod. 3170 So that with wepinge ate laste His chiere upon his child he caste, And sorwfulli to that sche preide He tolde his tale and thus he seide: "The sorwe, dowhter, which I make Is noght al only for my sake, Bot for thee bothe and for you alle: For such a chance is me befalle, That I schal er this thridde day Lese al that evere I lese may, 3180 Mi lif and al my good therto: Therfore it is I sorwe so." "What is the cause, helas!" quod sche, "Mi fader, that ye scholden be Ded and destruid in such a wise?" And he began the pointz devise, Whiche as the king told him be mowthe, And seid hir pleinly that he cowthe Ansuere unto no point of this. And sche, that hiereth how it is, 3190 Hire conseil yaf and seide tho: "Mi fader, sithen it is so, That ye can se non other weie, Bot that ye moste nedes deie, I wolde preie of you a thing: Let me go with you to the king, And ye schull make him understonde How ye, my wittes forto fonde, Have leid your ansuere upon me; And telleth him, in such degre 3200 Upon my word ye wole abide To lif or deth, what so betide. For yit par chaunce I may pourchace With som good word the kinges grace, Your lif and ek your good to save; For ofte schal a womman have Thing which a man mai noght areche." The fader herde his dowhter speche, And thoghte ther was resoun inne, And sih his oghne lif to winne 3210 He cowthe don himself no cure; So betre him thoghte in aventure To put his lif and al his good, Than in the maner as it stod His lif in certein forto lese. And thus thenkende he gan to chese To do the conseil of this Maide, And tok the pourpos which sche saide. The dai was come and forth thei gon, Unto the Court thei come anon, 3220 Wher as the king in juggement Was set and hath this knyht assent. Arraied in hire beste wise This Maiden with hire wordes wise Hire fader ladde be the hond Into the place, wher he fond The king with othre whiche he wolde, And to the king knelende he tolde As he enformed was tofore, And preith the king that he therfore 3230 His dowhtres wordes wolde take, And seith that he wol undertake Upon hire wordes forto stonde. Tho was ther gret merveile on honde, That he, which was so wys a knyht, His lif upon so yong a wyht Besette wolde in jeupartie, And manye it hielden for folie: Bot ate laste natheles The king comandeth ben in pes, 3240 And to this Maide he caste his chiere, And seide he wolde hire tale hiere, He bad hire speke, and sche began: "Mi liege lord, so as I can," Quod sche, "the pointz of whiche I herde, Thei schul of reson ben ansuerde. The ferste I understonde is this, What thing of al the world it is, Which men most helpe and hath lest nede. Mi liege lord, this wolde I rede: 3250 The Erthe it is, which everemo With mannes labour is bego; Als wel in wynter as in Maii The mannes hond doth what he mai To helpe it forth and make it riche, And forthi men it delve and dyche And eren it with strengthe of plowh, Wher it hath of himself ynowh, So that his nede is ate leste. For every man and bridd and beste, 3260 And flour and gras and rote and rinde, And every thing be weie of kynde Schal sterve, and Erthe it schal become; As it was out of Erthe nome, It schal to therthe torne ayein: And thus I mai be resoun sein That Erthe is the most nedeles, And most men helpe it natheles. So that, my lord, touchende of this I have ansuerd hou that it is. 3270 That other point I understod, Which most is worth and most is good, And costeth lest a man to kepe: Mi lord, if ye woll take kepe, I seie it is Humilite, Thurgh which the hihe trinite As for decerte of pure love Unto Marie from above, Of that he knew hire humble entente, His oghne Sone adoun he sente, 3280 Above alle othre and hire he ches For that vertu which bodeth pes: So that I may be resoun calle Humilite most worth of alle. And lest it costeth to maintiene, In al the world as it is sene; For who that hath humblesce on honde, He bringth no werres into londe, For he desireth for the beste To setten every man in reste. 3290 Thus with your hihe reverence Me thenketh that this evidence As to this point is sufficant. And touchende of the remenant, Which is the thridde of youre axinges, What leste is worth of alle thinges, And costeth most, I telle it, Pride; Which mai noght in the hevene abide, For Lucifer with hem that felle Bar Pride with him into helle. 3300 Ther was Pride of to gret a cost, Whan he for Pride hath hevene lost; And after that in Paradis Adam for Pride loste his pris: In Midelerthe and ek also Pride is the cause of alle wo, That al the world ne may suffise To stanche of Pride the reprise: Pride is the heved of alle Sinne, Which wasteth al and mai noght winne; 3310 Pride is of every mis the pricke, Pride is the werste of alle wicke, And costneth most and lest is worth In place where he hath his forth. Thus have I seid that I wol seie Of myn answere, and to you preie, Mi liege lord, of youre office That ye such grace and such justice Ordeigne for mi fader hiere, That after this, whan men it hiere, 3320 The world therof mai speke good." The king, which reson understod And hath al herd how sche hath said, Was inly glad and so wel paid That al his wraththe is overgo: And he began to loke tho Upon this Maiden in the face, In which he fond so mochel grace, That al his pris on hire he leide, In audience and thus he seide: 3330 "Mi faire Maide, wel thee be! Of thin ansuere and ek of thee Me liketh wel, and as thou wilt, Foryive be thi fader gilt. And if thou were of such lignage, That thou to me were of parage, And that thi fader were a Pier, As he is now a Bachilier, So seker as I have a lif, Thou scholdest thanne be my wif. 3340 Bot this I seie natheles, That I wol schape thin encress; What worldes good that thou wolt crave, Axe of my yifte and thou schalt have." And sche the king with wordes wise Knelende thonketh in this wise: "Mi liege lord, god mot you quite! Mi fader hier hath bot a lite Of warison, and that he wende Hadde al be lost; bot now amende 3350 He mai wel thurgh your noble grace." With that the king riht in his place Anon forth in that freisshe hete An Erldom, which thanne of eschete Was late falle into his hond, Unto this knyht with rente and lond Hath yove and with his chartre sesed; And thus was all the noise appesed. This Maiden, which sat on hire knes Tofore the king, hise charitees 3360 Comendeth, and seide overmore: "Mi liege lord, riht now tofore Ye seide, as it is of record, That if my fader were a lord And Pier unto these othre grete, Ye wolden for noght elles lete, That I ne scholde be your wif; And this wot every worthi lif, A kinges word it mot ben holde. Forthi, my lord, if that ye wolde 3370 So gret a charite fulfille, God wot it were wel my wille: For he which was a Bacheler, Mi fader, is now mad a Pier; So whenne as evere that I cam, An Erles dowhter now I am." This yonge king, which peised al, Hire beaute and hir wit withal, As he that was with love hent, Anon therto yaf his assent. 3380 He myhte noght the maide asterte, That sche nis ladi of his herte; So that he tok hire to his wif, To holde whyl that he hath lif: And thus the king toward his knyht Acordeth him, as it is riht. And over this good is to wite, In the Cronique as it is write, This noble king of whom I tolde Of Spaine be tho daies olde 3390 The kingdom hadde in governance, And as the bok makth remembrance, Alphonse was his propre name: The knyht also, if I schal name, Danz Petro hihte, and as men telle, His dowhter wyse Peronelle Was cleped, which was full of grace: And that was sene in thilke place, Wher sche hir fader out of teene Hath broght and mad hirself a qweene, 3400 Of that sche hath so wel desclosed The pointz wherof sche was opposed. Lo now, my Sone, as thou myht hiere, Of al this thing to my matiere Bot on I take, and that is Pride, To whom no grace mai betide: In hevene he fell out of his stede, And Paradis him was forbede, The goode men in Erthe him hate, So that to helle he mot algate, 3410 Where every vertu schal be weyved And every vice be received. Bot Humblesce is al otherwise, Which most is worth, and no reprise It takth ayein, bot softe and faire, If eny thing stond in contraire, With humble speche it is redresced: Thus was this yonge Maiden blessed, The which I spak of now tofore, Hire fader lif sche gat therfore, 3420 And wan with al the kinges love. Forthi, my Sone, if thou wolt love, It sit thee wel to leve Pride And take Humblesce upon thi side; The more of grace thou schalt gete. Mi fader, I woll noght foryete Of this that ye have told me hiere, And if that eny such manere Of humble port mai love appaie, Hierafterward I thenke assaie: 3430 Bot now forth over I beseche That ye more of my schrifte seche. Mi goode Sone, it schal be do: Now herkne and ley an Ere to; For as touchende of Prides fare, Als ferforth as I can declare In cause of vice, in cause of love, That hast thou pleinly herd above, So that ther is nomor to seie Touchende of that; bot other weie 3440 Touchende Envie I thenke telle, Which hath the propre kinde of helle, Withoute cause to misdo Toward himself and othre also, Hierafterward as understonde Thou schalt the spieces, as thei stonde.

Explicit Liber Primus



Incipit Liber Secundus

Inuidie culpa magis est attrita dolore, Nam sua mens nullo tempore leta manet: Quo gaudent alii, dolet ille, nec vnus amicus Est, cui de puro comoda velle facit. Proximitatis honor sua corda veretur, et omnis Est sibi leticia sic aliena dolor. Hoc etenim vicium quam sepe repugnat amanti, Non sibi, set reliquis, dum fauet ipsa Venus. Est amor ex proprio motu fantasticus, et que Gaudia fert alius, credit obesse sibi.

Now after Pride the secounde Ther is, which many a woful stounde Towardes othre berth aboute Withinne himself and noght withoute; For in his thoght he brenneth evere, Whan that he wot an other levere Or more vertuous than he, Which passeth him in his degre; Therof he takth his maladie: That vice is cleped hot Envie. 10 Forthi, my Sone, if it be so Thou art or hast ben on of tho, As forto speke in loves cas, If evere yit thin herte was Sek of an other mannes hele? So god avance my querele, Mi fader, ye, a thousend sithe: Whanne I have sen an other blithe Of love, and hadde a goodly chiere, Ethna, which brenneth yer be yere, 20 Was thanne noght so hot as I Of thilke Sor which prively Min hertes thoght withinne brenneth. The Schip which on the wawes renneth, And is forstormed and forblowe, Is noght more peined for a throwe Than I am thanne, whanne I se An other which that passeth me In that fortune of loves yifte. Bot, fader, this I telle in schrifte, 30 That is nowher bot in o place; For who that lese or finde grace In other stede, it mai noght grieve: Bot this ye mai riht wel believe, Toward mi ladi that I serve, Thogh that I wiste forto sterve, Min herte is full of such sotie, That I myself mai noght chastie. Whan I the Court se of Cupide Aproche unto my ladi side 40 Of hem that lusti ben and freisshe,- Thogh it availe hem noght a reisshe, Bot only that thei ben in speche,- My sorwe is thanne noght to seche: Bot whan thei rounen in hire Ere, Than groweth al my moste fere, And namly whan thei talen longe; My sorwes thanne be so stronge Of that I se hem wel at ese, I can noght telle my desese. 50 Bot, Sire, as of my ladi selve, Thogh sche have wowers ten or twelve, For no mistrust I have of hire Me grieveth noght, for certes, Sire, I trowe, in al this world to seche, Nis womman that in dede and speche Woll betre avise hire what sche doth, Ne betre, forto seie a soth, Kepe hire honour ate alle tide, And yit get hire a thank beside. 60 Bot natheles I am beknowe, That whanne I se at eny throwe, Or elles if I mai it hiere, That sche make eny man good chiere, Thogh I therof have noght to done, Mi thought wol entermette him sone. For thogh I be miselve strange, Envie makth myn herte change, That I am sorghfully bestad Of that I se an other glad 70 With hire; bot of other alle, Of love what so mai befalle, Or that he faile or that he spede, Therof take I bot litel heede. Now have I seid, my fader, al As of this point in special, Als ferforthli as I have wist. Now axeth further what you list. Mi Sone, er I axe eny more, I thenke somdiel for thi lore 80 Telle an ensample of this matiere Touchende Envie, as thou schalt hiere. Write in Civile this I finde: Thogh it be noght the houndes kinde To ete chaf, yit wol he werne An Oxe which comth to the berne, Therof to taken eny fode. And thus, who that it understode, It stant of love in many place: Who that is out of loves grace 90 And mai himselven noght availe, He wolde an other scholde faile; And if he may put eny lette, He doth al that he mai to lette. Wherof I finde, as thou schalt wite, To this pourpos a tale write. Ther ben of suche mo than twelve, That ben noght able as of hemselve To gete love, and for Envie Upon alle othre thei aspie; 100 And for hem lacketh that thei wolde, Thei kepte that non other scholde Touchende of love his cause spede: Wherof a gret ensample I rede, Which unto this matiere acordeth, As Ovide in his bok recordeth, How Poliphemus whilom wroghte, Whan that he Galathee besoghte Of love, which he mai noght lacche. That made him forto waite and wacche 110 Be alle weies how it ferde, Til ate laste he knew and herde How that an other hadde leve To love there as he mot leve, As forto speke of eny sped: So that he knew non other red, Bot forto wayten upon alle, Til he may se the chance falle That he hire love myhte grieve, Which he himself mai noght achieve. 120 This Galathee, seith the Poete, Above alle othre was unmete Of beaute, that men thanne knewe, And hadde a lusti love and trewe, A Bacheler in his degree, Riht such an other as was sche, On whom sche hath hire herte set, So that it myhte noght be let For yifte ne for no beheste, That sche ne was al at his heste. 130 This yonge knyht Acis was hote, Which hire ayeinward als so hote Al only loveth and nomo. Hierof was Poliphemus wo Thurgh pure Envie, and evere aspide, And waiteth upon every side, Whan he togedre myhte se This yonge Acis with Galathe. So longe he waiteth to and fro, Til ate laste he fond hem tuo, 140 In prive place wher thei stode To speke and have here wordes goode. The place wher as he hem syh, It was under a banke nyh The grete See, and he above Stod and behield the lusti love Which ech of hem to other made With goodly chiere and wordes glade, That al his herte hath set afyre Of pure Envie: and as a fyre 150 Which fleth out of a myhti bowe, Aweie he fledde for a throwe, As he that was for love wod, Whan that he sih how that it stod. This Polipheme a Geant was; And whan he sih the sothe cas, How Galathee him hath forsake And Acis to hire love take, His herte mai it noght forbere That he ne roreth lich a Bere; 160 And as it were a wilde beste, The whom no reson mihte areste, He ran Ethna the hell aboute, Wher nevere yit the fyr was oute, Fulfild of sorghe and gret desese, That he syh Acis wel at ese. Til ate laste he him bethoghte, As he which al Envie soghte, And torneth to the banke ayein, Wher he with Galathee hath seyn 170 Acis, whom that he thoghte grieve, Thogh he himself mai noght relieve. This Geant with his ruide myht Part of the banke he schof doun riht, The which evene upon Acis fell, So that with fallinge of this hell This Poliphemus Acis slowh, Wherof sche made sorwe ynowh. And as sche fledde fro the londe, Neptunus tok hire into honde 180 And kept hire in so sauf a place Fro Polipheme and his manace, That he with al his false Envie Ne mihte atteigne hir compaignie. This Galathee of whom I speke, That of hirself mai noght be wreke, Withouten eny semblant feigned Sche hath hire loves deth compleigned, And with hire sorwe and with hire wo Sche hath the goddes moeved so, 190 That thei of pite and of grace Have Acis in the same place, Ther he lai ded, into a welle Transformed, as the bokes telle, With freisshe stremes and with cliere, As he whilom with lusti chiere Was freissh his love forto qweme. And with this ruide Polipheme For his Envie and for his hate Thei were wrothe. And thus algate, 200 Mi Sone, thou myht understonde, That if thou wolt in grace stonde With love, thou most leve Envie: And as thou wolt for thi partie Toward thi love stonde fre, So most thou soffre an other be, What so befalle upon the chaunce: For it is an unwys vengance, Which to non other man is lief, And is unto himselve grief. 210 Mi fader, this ensample is good; Bot how so evere that it stod With Poliphemes love as tho, It schal noght stonde with me so, To worchen eny felonie In love for no such Envie. Forthi if ther oght elles be, Now axeth forth, in what degre It is, and I me schal confesse With schrifte unto youre holinesse. 220 Mi goode Sone, yit ther is A vice revers unto this, Which envious takth his gladnesse Of that he seth the hevinesse Of othre men: for his welfare Is whanne he wot an other care: Of that an other hath a fall, He thenkth himself arist withal. Such is the gladschipe of Envie In worldes thing, and in partie 230 Fulofte times ek also In loves cause it stant riht so. If thou, my Sone, hast joie had, Whan thou an other sihe unglad, Schrif the therof. Mi fader, yis: I am beknowe unto you this. Of these lovers that loven streyte, And for that point which thei coveite Ben poursuiantz fro yeer to yere In loves Court, whan I may hiere 240 How that thei clymbe upon the whel, And whan thei wene al schal be wel, Thei ben doun throwen ate laste, Thanne am I fedd of that thei faste, And lawhe of that I se hem loure; And thus of that thei brewe soure I drinke swete, and am wel esed Of that I wot thei ben desesed. Bot this which I you telle hiere Is only for my lady diere; 250 That for non other that I knowe Me reccheth noght who overthrowe, Ne who that stonde in love upriht: Bot be he squier, be he knyht, Which to my ladiward poursuieth, The more he lest of that he suieth, The mor me thenketh that I winne, And am the more glad withinne Of that I wot him sorwe endure. For evere upon such aventure 260 It is a confort, as men sein, To him the which is wo besein To sen an other in his peine, So that thei bothe mai compleigne. Wher I miself mai noght availe To sen an other man travaile, I am riht glad if he be let; And thogh I fare noght the bet, His sorwe is to myn herte a game: Whan that I knowe it is the same 270 Which to mi ladi stant enclined, And hath his love noght termined, I am riht joifull in my thoght. If such Envie grieveth oght, As I beknowe me coupable, Ye that be wys and resonable, Mi fader, telleth youre avis. Mi Sone, Envie into no pris Of such a forme, I understonde, Ne mihte be no resoun stonde 280 For this Envie hath such a kinde, That he wole sette himself behinde To hindre with an othre wyht, And gladly lese his oghne riht To make an other lesen his. And forto knowe how it so is, A tale lich to this matiere I thenke telle, if thou wolt hiere, To schewe proprely the vice Of this Envie and the malice. 290 Of Jupiter this finde I write, How whilom that he wolde wite Upon the pleigntes whiche he herde, Among the men how that it ferde, As of here wrong condicion To do justificacion: And for that cause doun he sente An Angel, which about wente, That he the sothe knowe mai. So it befell upon a dai 300 This Angel, which him scholde enforme, Was clothed in a mannes forme, And overtok, I understonde, Tuo men that wenten over londe, Thurgh whiche he thoghte to aspie His cause, and goth in compaignie. This Angel with hise wordes wise Opposeth hem in sondri wise, Now lowde wordes and now softe, That mad hem to desputen ofte, 310 And ech of hem his reson hadde. And thus with tales he hem ladde With good examinacioun, Til he knew the condicioun, What men thei were bothe tuo; And sih wel ate laste tho, That on of hem was coveitous, And his fela was envious. And thus, whan he hath knowlechinge, Anon he feigneth departinge, 320 And seide he mot algate wende. Bot herkne now what fell at ende: For thanne he made hem understonde That he was there of goddes sonde, And seide hem, for the kindeschipe That thei have don him felaschipe, He wole hem do som grace ayein, And bad that on of hem schal sein What thing him is lievest to crave, And he it schal of yifte have; 330 And over that ek forth withal He seith that other have schal The double of that his felaw axeth; And thus to hem his grace he taxeth. The coveitous was wonder glad, And to that other man he bad And seith that he ferst axe scholde: For he supposeth that he wolde Make his axinge of worldes good; For thanne he knew wel how it stod, 340 That he himself be double weyhte Schal after take, and thus be sleyhte, Be cause that he wolde winne, He bad his fela ferst beginne. This Envious, thogh it be late, Whan that he syh he mot algate Make his axinge ferst, he thoghte, If he worschipe or profit soghte, It schal be doubled to his fiere: That wolde he chese in no manere. 350 Bot thanne he scheweth what he was Toward Envie, and in this cas Unto this Angel thus he seide And for his yifte this he preide, To make him blind of his on yhe, So that his fela nothing syhe. This word was noght so sone spoke, That his on yhe anon was loke, And his felawh forthwith also Was blind of bothe his yhen tuo. 360 Tho was that other glad ynowh, That on wepte, and that other lowh, He sette his on yhe at no cost, Wherof that other two hath lost. Of thilke ensample which fell tho, Men tellen now fulofte so, The world empeireth comunly: And yit wot non the cause why; For it acordeth noght to kinde Min oghne harm to seche and finde 370 Of that I schal my brother grieve; It myhte nevere wel achieve. What seist thou, Sone, of this folie? Mi fader, bot I scholde lie, Upon the point which ye have seid Yit was myn herte nevere leid, Bot in the wise as I you tolde. Bot overmore, if that ye wolde Oght elles to my schrifte seie Touchende Envie, I wolde preie. 380 Mi Sone, that schal wel be do: Now herkne and ley thin Ere to. Touchende as of Envious brod I wot noght on of alle good; Bot natheles, suche as thei be, Yit is ther on, and that is he Which cleped in Detraccioun. And to conferme his accioun, He hath withholde Malebouche, Whos tunge neither pyl ne crouche 390 Mai hyre, so that he pronounce A plein good word withoute frounce Awher behinde a mannes bak. For thogh he preise, he fint som lak, Which of his tale is ay the laste, That al the pris schal overcaste: And thogh ther be no cause why, Yit wole he jangle noght forthi, As he which hath the heraldie Of hem that usen forto lye. 400 For as the Netle which up renneth The freisshe rede Roses brenneth And makth hem fade and pale of hewe, Riht so this fals Envious hewe, In every place wher he duelleth, With false wordes whiche he telleth He torneth preisinge into blame And worschipe into worldes schame. Of such lesinge as he compasseth, Is non so good that he ne passeth 410 Betwen his teeth and is bacbited, And thurgh his false tunge endited: Lich to the Scharnebudes kinde, Of whos nature this I finde, That in the hoteste of the dai, Whan comen is the merie Maii, He sprat his wynge and up he fleth: And under al aboute he seth The faire lusti floures springe, Bot therof hath he no likinge; 420 Bot where he seth of eny beste The felthe, ther he makth his feste, And therupon he wole alyhte, Ther liketh him non other sihte. Riht so this janglere Envious, Thogh he a man se vertuous And full of good condicioun, Therof makth he no mencioun: Bot elles, be it noght so lyte, Wherof that he mai sette a wyte, 430 Ther renneth he with open mouth, Behinde a man and makth it couth. Bot al the vertu which he can, That wole he hide of every man, And openly the vice telle, As he which of the Scole of helle Is tawht, and fostred with Envie Of houshold and of compaignie, Wher that he hath his propre office To sette on every man a vice. 440 How so his mouth be comely, His word sit evermore awry And seith the worste that he may. And in this wise now a day In loves Court a man mai hiere Fulofte pleigne of this matiere, That many envious tale is stered, Wher that it mai noght ben ansuered; Bot yit fulofte it is believed, And many a worthi love is grieved 450 Thurgh bacbitinge of fals Envie. If thou have mad such janglerie In loves Court, mi Sone, er this, Schrif thee therof. Mi fader, yis: Bot wite ye how? noght openly, Bot otherwhile prively, Whan I my diere ladi mete, And thenke how that I am noght mete Unto hire hihe worthinesse, And ek I se the besinesse 460 Of al this yonge lusty route, Whiche alday pressen hire aboute, And ech of hem his time awaiteth, And ech of hem his tale affaiteth, Al to deceive an innocent, Which woll noght ben of here assent; And for men sein unknowe unkest, Hire thombe sche holt in hire fest So clos withinne hire oghne hond, That there winneth noman lond; 470 Sche lieveth noght al that sche hiereth, And thus fulofte hirself sche skiereth And is al war of "hadde I wist":- Bot for al that myn herte arist, Whanne I thes comun lovers se, That woll noght holden hem to thre, Bot welnyh loven overal, Min herte is Envious withal, And evere I am adrad of guile, In aunter if with eny wyle 480 Thei mihte hire innocence enchaunte. Forthi my wordes ofte I haunte Behynden hem, so as I dar, Wherof my ladi may be war: I sai what evere comth to mowthe, And worse I wolde, if that I cowthe; For whanne I come unto hir speche, Al that I may enquere and seche Of such deceipte, I telle it al, And ay the werste in special. 490 So fayn I wolde that sche wiste How litel thei ben forto triste, And what thei wolde and what thei mente, So as thei be of double entente: Thus toward hem that wicke mene My wicked word was evere grene. And natheles, the soth to telle, In certain if it so befelle That althertrewest man ybore, To chese among a thousend score, 500 Which were alfulli forto triste, Mi ladi lovede, and I it wiste, Yit rathere thanne he scholde spede, I wolde swiche tales sprede To my ladi, if that I myhte, That I scholde al his love unrihte, And therto wolde I do mi peine. For certes thogh I scholde feigne, And telle that was nevere thoght, For al this world I myhte noght 510 To soffre an othre fully winne, Ther as I am yit to beginne. For be thei goode, or be thei badde, I wolde non my ladi hadde; And that me makth fulofte aspie And usen wordes of Envie, Al forto make hem bere a blame. And that is bot of thilke same, The whiche unto my ladi drawe, For evere on hem I rounge and gknawe 520 And hindre hem al that evere I mai; And that is, sothly forto say, Bot only to my lady selve: I telle it noght to ten ne tuelve, Therof I wol me wel avise, To speke or jangle in eny wise That toucheth to my ladi name, The which in ernest and in game I wolde save into my deth; For me were levere lacke breth 530 Than speken of hire name amis. Now have ye herd touchende of this, Mi fader, in confessioun: And therfor of Detraccioun In love, of that I have mispoke, Tel how ye wole it schal be wroke. I am al redy forto bere Mi peine, and also to forbere What thing that ye wol noght allowe; For who is bounden, he mot bowe. 540 So wol I bowe unto youre heste, For I dar make this beheste, That I to yow have nothing hid, Bot told riht as it is betid; And otherwise of no mispeche, Mi conscience forto seche, I can noght of Envie finde, That I mispoke have oght behinde Wherof love owhte be mispaid. Now have ye herd and I have said; 550 What wol ye, fader, that I do? Mi Sone, do nomore so, Bot evere kep thi tunge stille, Thou miht the more have of thi wille. For as thou saist thiselven here, Thi ladi is of such manere, So wys, so war in alle thinge, It nedeth of no bakbitinge That thou thi ladi mis enforme: For whan sche knoweth al the forme, 560 How that thiself art envious, Thou schalt noght be so gracious As thou peraunter scholdest elles. Ther wol noman drinke of tho welles Whiche as he wot is puyson inne; And ofte swich as men beginne Towardes othre, swich thei finde, That set hem ofte fer behinde, Whan that thei wene be before. Mi goode Sone, and thou therfore 570 Bewar and lef thi wicke speche, Wherof hath fallen ofte wreche To many a man befor this time. For who so wole his handes lime, Thei mosten be the more unclene; For many a mote schal be sene, That wolde noght cleve elles there; And that schold every wys man fere: For who so wol an other blame, He secheth ofte his oghne schame, 580 Which elles myhte be riht stille. Forthi if that it be thi wille To stonde upon amendement, A tale of gret entendement I thenke telle for thi sake, Wherof thou miht ensample take. A worthi kniht in Cristes lawe Of grete Rome, as is the sawe, The Sceptre hadde forto rihte; Tiberie Constantin he hihte, 590 Whos wif was cleped Ytalie: Bot thei togedre of progenie No children hadde bot a Maide; And sche the god so wel apaide, That al the wide worldes fame Spak worschipe of hire goode name. Constance, as the Cronique seith, Sche hihte, and was so ful of feith, That the greteste of Barbarie, Of hem whiche usen marchandie, 600 Sche hath converted, as thei come To hire upon a time in Rome, To schewen such thing as thei broghte; Whiche worthili of hem sche boghte, And over that in such a wise Sche hath hem with hire wordes wise Of Cristes feith so full enformed, That thei therto ben all conformed, So that baptesme thei receiven And alle here false goddes weyven. 610 Whan thei ben of the feith certein, Thei gon to Barbarie ayein, And ther the Souldan for hem sente And axeth hem to what entente Thei have here ferste feith forsake. And thei, whiche hadden undertake The rihte feith to kepe and holde, The matiere of here tale tolde With al the hole circumstance. And whan the Souldan of Constance 620 Upon the point that thei ansuerde The beaute and the grace herde, As he which thanne was to wedde, In alle haste his cause spedde To sende for the mariage. And furthermor with good corage He seith, be so he mai hire have, That Crist, which cam this world to save, He woll believe: and this recorded, Thei ben on either side acorded, 630 And therupon to make an ende The Souldan hise hostages sende To Rome, of Princes Sones tuelve: Wherof the fader in himselve Was glad, and with the Pope avised Tuo Cardinals he hath assissed With othre lordes many mo, That with his doghter scholden go, To se the Souldan be converted. Bot that which nevere was wel herted, 640 Envie, tho began travaile In destourbance of this spousaile So prively that non was war. The Moder which this Souldan bar Was thanne alyve, and thoghte this Unto hirself: "If it so is Mi Sone him wedde in this manere, Than have I lost my joies hiere, For myn astat schal so be lassed." Thenkende thus sche hath compassed 650 Be sleihte how that sche may beguile Hire Sone; and fell withinne a while, Betwen hem two whan that thei were, Sche feigneth wordes in his Ere, And in this wise gan to seie: "Mi Sone, I am be double weie With al myn herte glad and blithe, For that miself have ofte sithe Desired thou wolt, as men seith, Receive and take a newe feith, 660 Which schal be forthringe of thi lif: And ek so worschipful a wif, The doughter of an Emperour, To wedde it schal be gret honour. Forthi, mi Sone, I you beseche That I such grace mihte areche, Whan that my doughter come schal, That I mai thanne in special, So as me thenkth it is honeste, Be thilke which the ferste feste 670 Schal make unto hire welcominge." The Souldan granteth hire axinge, And sche therof was glad ynowh: For under that anon sche drowh With false wordes that sche spak Covine of deth behinde his bak. And therupon hire ordinance She made so, that whan Constance Was come forth with the Romeins, Of clerkes and of Citezeins, 680 A riche feste sche hem made: And most whan that thei weren glade, With fals covine which sche hadde Hire clos Envie tho sche spradde, And alle tho that hadden be Or in apert or in prive Of conseil to the mariage, Sche slowh hem in a sodein rage Endlong the bord as thei be set, So that it myhte noght be let; 690 Hire oghne Sone was noght quit, Bot deide upon the same plit. Bot what the hihe god wol spare It mai for no peril misfare: This worthi Maiden which was there Stod thanne, as who seith, ded for feere, To se the feste how that it stod, Which al was torned into blod: The Dissh forthwith the Coppe and al Bebled thei weren overal; 700 Sche sih hem deie on every side; No wonder thogh sche wepte and cride Makende many a wofull mone. Whan al was slain bot sche al one, This olde fend, this Sarazine, Let take anon this Constantine With al the good sche thider broghte, And hath ordeined, as sche thoghte, A nakid Schip withoute stiere, In which the good and hire in fiere, 710 Vitailed full for yeres fyve, Wher that the wynd it wolde dryve, Sche putte upon the wawes wilde. Bot he which alle thing mai schilde, Thre yer, til that sche cam to londe, Hire Schip to stiere hath take in honde, And in Northumberlond aryveth; And happeth thanne that sche dryveth Under a Castel with the flod, Which upon Humber banke stod 720 And was the kynges oghne also, The which Allee was cleped tho, A Saxon and a worthi knyht, Bot he believed noght ariht. Of this Castell was Chastellein Elda the kinges Chamberlein, A knyhtly man after his lawe; And whan he sih upon the wawe The Schip drivende al one so, He bad anon men scholden go 730 To se what it betokne mai. This was upon a Somer dai, The Schip was loked and sche founde; Elda withinne a litel stounde It wiste, and with his wif anon Toward this yonge ladi gon, Wher that thei founden gret richesse; Bot sche hire wolde noght confesse, Whan thei hire axen what sche was. And natheles upon the cas 740 Out of the Schip with gret worschipe Thei toke hire into felaschipe, As thei that weren of hir glade: Bot sche no maner joie made, Bot sorweth sore of that sche fond No cristendom in thilke lond; Bot elles sche hath al hire wille, And thus with hem sche duelleth stille. Dame Hermyngheld, which was the wif Of Elda, lich hire oghne lif 750 Constance loveth; and fell so, Spekende alday betwen hem two, Thurgh grace of goddes pourveance This maiden tawhte the creance Unto this wif so parfitly, Upon a dai that faste by In presence of hire housebonde, Wher thei go walkende on the Stronde, A blind man, which cam there lad, Unto this wif criende he bad, 760 With bothe hise hondes up and preide To hire, and in this wise he seide: "O Hermyngeld, which Cristes feith, Enformed as Constance seith, Received hast, yif me my sihte." Upon his word hire herte afflihte Thenkende what was best to done, Bot natheles sche herde his bone And seide, "In trust of Cristes lawe, Which don was on the crois and slawe, 770 Thou bysne man, behold and se." With that to god upon his kne Thonkende he tok his sihte anon, Wherof thei merveile everychon, Bot Elda wondreth most of alle: This open thing which is befalle Concludeth him be such a weie, That he the feith mot nede obeie. Now lest what fell upon this thing. This Elda forth unto the king 780 A morwe tok his weie and rod, And Hermyngeld at home abod Forth with Constance wel at ese. Elda, which thoghte his king to plese, As he that thanne unwedded was, Of Constance al the pleine cas Als goodliche as he cowthe tolde. The king was glad and seide he wolde Come thider upon such a wise That he him mihte of hire avise, 790 The time apointed forth withal. This Elda triste in special Upon a knyht, whom fro childhode He hadde updrawe into manhode: To him he tolde al that he thoghte, Wherof that after him forthoghte; And natheles at thilke tide Unto his wif he bad him ride To make redi alle thing Ayein the cominge of the king, 800 And seith that he himself tofore Thenkth forto come, and bad therfore That he him kepe, and told him whanne. This knyht rod forth his weie thanne; And soth was that of time passed He hadde in al his wit compassed How he Constance myhte winne; Bot he sih tho no sped therinne, Wherof his lust began tabate, And that was love is thanne hate; 810 Of hire honour he hadde Envie, So that upon his tricherie A lesinge in his herte he caste. Til he cam home he hieth faste, And doth his ladi tunderstonde The Message of hire housebonde: And therupon the longe dai Thei setten thinges in arrai, That al was as it scholde be Of every thing in his degree; 820 And whan it cam into the nyht, This wif hire hath to bedde dyht, Wher that this Maiden with hire lay. This false knyht upon delay Hath taried til thei were aslepe, As he that wolde his time kepe His dedly werkes to fulfille; And to the bed he stalketh stille, Wher that he wiste was the wif, And in his hond a rasour knif 830 He bar, with which hire throte he cutte, And prively the knif he putte Under that other beddes side, Wher that Constance lai beside. Elda cam hom the same nyht, And stille with a prive lyht, As he that wolde noght awake His wif, he hath his weie take Into the chambre, and ther liggende He fond his dede wif bledende, 840 Wher that Constance faste by Was falle aslepe; and sodeinly He cride alowd, and sche awok, And forth withal sche caste a lok And sih this ladi blede there, Wherof swoundende ded for fere Sche was, and stille as eny Ston She lay, and Elda therupon Into the Castell clepeth oute, And up sterte every man aboute, 850 Into the chambre and forth thei wente. Bot he, which alle untrouthe mente, This false knyht, among hem alle Upon this thing which is befalle Seith that Constance hath don this dede; And to the bed with that he yede After the falshed of his speche, And made him there forto seche, And fond the knif, wher he it leide, And thanne he cride and thanne he seide, 860 "Lo, seth the knif al blody hiere! What nedeth more in this matiere To axe?" And thus hire innocence He sclaundreth there in audience With false wordes whiche he feigneth. Bot yit for al that evere he pleigneth, Elda no full credence tok: And happeth that ther lay a bok, Upon the which, whan he it sih, This knyht hath swore and seid on hih, 870 That alle men it mihte wite, "Now be this bok, which hier is write, Constance is gultif, wel I wot." With that the hond of hevene him smot In tokne of that he was forswore, That he hath bothe hise yhen lore, Out of his hed the same stounde Thei sterte, and so thei weren founde. A vois was herd, whan that they felle, Which seide, "O dampned man to helle, 880 Lo, thus hath god the sclaundre wroke That thou ayein Constance hast spoke: Beknow the sothe er that thou dye." And he told out his felonie, And starf forth with his tale anon. Into the ground, wher alle gon, This dede lady was begrave: Elda, which thoghte his honour save, Al that he mai restreigneth sorwe. For the seconde day a morwe 890 The king cam, as thei were acorded; And whan it was to him recorded What god hath wroght upon this chaunce, He tok it into remembrance And thoghte more than he seide. For al his hole herte he leide Upon Constance, and seide he scholde For love of hire, if that sche wolde, Baptesme take and Cristes feith Believe, and over that he seith 900 He wol hire wedde, and upon this Asseured ech til other is. And forto make schorte tales, Ther cam a Bisschop out of Wales Fro Bangor, and Lucie he hihte, Which thurgh the grace of god almihte The king with many an other mo Hath cristned, and betwen hem tuo He hath fulfild the mariage. Bot for no lust ne for no rage 910 Sche tolde hem nevere what sche was; And natheles upon the cas The king was glad, how so it stod, For wel he wiste and understod Sche was a noble creature. The hihe makere of nature Hire hath visited in a throwe, That it was openliche knowe Sche was with childe be the king, Wherof above al other thing 920 He thonketh god and was riht glad. And fell that time he was bestad Upon a werre and moste ride; And whil he scholde there abide, He lefte at hom to kepe his wif Suche as he knew of holi lif, Elda forth with the Bisschop eke; And he with pouer goth to seke Ayein the Scottes forto fonde The werre which he tok on honde. 930 The time set of kinde is come, This lady hath hire chambre nome, And of a Sone bore full, Wherof that sche was joiefull, Sche was delivered sauf and sone. The bisshop, as it was to done, Yaf him baptesme and Moris calleth; And therupon, as it befalleth, With lettres writen of record Thei sende unto here liege lord, 940 That kepers weren of the qweene: And he that scholde go betwene, The Messager, to Knaresburgh, Which toun he scholde passe thurgh, Ridende cam the ferste day. The kinges Moder there lay, Whos rihte name was Domilde, Which after al the cause spilde: For he, which thonk deserve wolde, Unto this ladi goth and tolde 950 Of his Message al how it ferde. And sche with feigned joie it herde And yaf him yiftes largely, Bot in the nyht al prively Sche tok the lettres whiche he hadde, Fro point to point and overradde, As sche that was thurghout untrewe, And let do wryten othre newe In stede of hem, and thus thei spieke: "Oure liege lord, we thee beseke 960 That thou with ous ne be noght wroth, Though we such thing as is thee loth Upon oure trowthe certefie. Thi wif, which is of faierie, Of such a child delivered is Fro kinde which stant al amis: Bot for it scholde noght be seie, We have it kept out of the weie For drede of pure worldes schame, A povere child and in the name 970 Of thilke which is so misbore We toke, and therto we be swore, That non bot only thou and we Schal knowen of this privete: Moris it hatte, and thus men wene That it was boren of the qweene And of thin oghne bodi gete. Bot this thing mai noght be foryete, That thou ne sende ous word anon What is thi wille therupon." 980 This lettre, as thou hast herd devise, Was contrefet in such a wise That noman scholde it aperceive: And sche, which thoghte to deceive, It leith wher sche that other tok. This Messager, whan he awok, And wiste nothing how it was, Aros and rod the grete pas And tok this lettre to the king. And whan he sih this wonder thing, 990 He makth the Messager no chiere, Bot natheles in wys manere He wrote ayein, and yaf hem charge That thei ne soffre noght at large His wif to go, bot kepe hire stille, Til thei have herd mor of his wille. This Messager was yifteles, Bot with this lettre natheles, Or be him lief or be him loth, In alle haste ayein he goth 1000 Be Knaresburgh, and as he wente, Unto the Moder his entente Of that he fond toward the king He tolde; and sche upon this thing Seith that he scholde abide al nyht And made him feste and chiere ariht, Feignende as thogh sche cowthe him thonk. Bot he with strong wyn which he dronk Forth with the travail of the day Was drunke, aslepe and while he lay, 1010 Sche hath hise lettres overseie And formed in an other weie. Ther was a newe lettre write, Which seith: "I do you forto wite, That thurgh the conseil of you tuo I stonde in point to ben undo, As he which is a king deposed. For every man it hath supposed, How that my wif Constance is faie; And if that I, thei sein, delaie 1020 To put hire out of compaignie, The worschipe of my Regalie Is lore; and over