Upon a time and as he drouh 5060 Toward the wode, he sih besyde The grete gastli Serpent glyde, Til that sche cam in his presence, And in hir kinde a reverence Sche hath him do, and forth withal A Ston mor briht than a cristall Out of hir mouth tofore his weie Sche let doun falle, and wente aweie, For that he schal noght ben adrad. Tho was this povere Bardus glad, 5070 Thonkende god, and to the Ston He goth an takth it up anon, And hath gret wonder in his wit Hou that the beste him hath aquit, Wher that the mannes Sone hath failed, For whom he hadde most travailed. Bot al he putte in goddes hond, And torneth hom, and what he fond Unto his wif he hath it schewed; And thei, that weren bothe lewed, 5080 Acorden that he scholde it selle. And he no lengere wolde duelle, Bot forth anon upon the tale The Ston he profreth to the sale; And riht as he himself it sette, The jueler anon forth fette The gold and made his paiement, Therof was no delaiement. Thus whan this Ston was boght and sold, Homward with joie manyfold 5090 This Bardus goth; and whan he cam Hom to his hous and that he nam His gold out of his Purs, withinne He fond his Ston also therinne, Wherof for joie his herte pleide, Unto his wif and thus he seide, "Lo, hier my gold, lo, hier mi Ston!" His wif hath wonder therupon, And axeth him hou that mai be. "Nou be mi trouthe I not," quod he, 5100 "Bot I dar swere upon a bok, That to my Marchant I it tok, And he it hadde whan I wente: So knowe I noght to what entente It is nou hier, bot it be grace. Forthi tomorwe in other place I wole it fonde forto selle, And if it wol noght with him duelle, Bot crepe into mi purs ayein, Than dar I saufly swere and sein, 5110 It is the vertu of the Ston." The morwe cam, and he is gon To seche aboute in other stede His Ston to selle, and he so dede, And lefte it with his chapman there. Bot whan that he cam elleswhere, In presence of his wif at hom, Out of his Purs and that he nom His gold, he fond his Ston withal: And thus it fell him overal, 5120 Where he it solde in sondri place, Such was the fortune and the grace. Bot so wel may nothing ben hidd, That it nys ate laste kidd: This fame goth aboute Rome So ferforth, that the wordes come To themperour Justinian; And he let sende for the man, And axede him hou that it was. And Bardus tolde him al the cas, 5130 Hou that the worm and ek the beste, Althogh thei maden no beheste, His travail hadden wel aquit; Bot he which hadde a mannes wit, And made his covenant be mouthe And swor therto al that he couthe To parte and yiven half his good, Hath nou foryete hou that it stod, As he which wol no trouthe holde. This Emperour al that he tolde 5140 Hath herd, and thilke unkindenesse He seide he wolde himself redresse. And thus in court of juggement This Adrian was thanne assent, And the querele in audience Declared was in the presence Of themperour and many mo; Wherof was mochel speche tho And gret wondringe among the press. Bot ate laste natheles 5150 For the partie which hath pleigned The lawe hath diemed and ordeigned Be hem that were avised wel, That he schal have the halvendel Thurghout of Adrianes good. And thus of thilke unkinde blod Stant the memoire into this day, Wherof that every wysman may Ensamplen him, and take in mynde What schame it is to ben unkinde; 5160 Ayein the which reson debateth, And every creature it hateth. Forthi, mi Sone, in thin office I rede fle that ilke vice. For riht as the Cronique seith Of Adrian, hou he his feith Foryat for worldes covoitise, Fulofte in such a maner wise Of lovers nou a man mai se Full manye that unkinde be: 5170 For wel behote and evele laste That is here lif; for ate laste, Whan that thei have here wille do, Here love is after sone ago. What seist thou, Sone, to this cas? Mi fader, I wol seie Helas, That evere such a man was bore, Which whan he hath his trouthe suore And hath of love what he wolde, That he at eny time scholde 5180 Evere after in his herte finde To falsen and to ben unkinde. Bot, fader, as touchende of me, I mai noght stonde in that degre; For I tok nevere of love why, That I ne mai wel go therby And do my profit elles where, For eny sped I finde there. I dar wel thenken al aboute, Bot I ne dar noght speke it oute; 5190 And if I dorste, I wolde pleigne, That sche for whom I soffre peine And love hir evere aliche hote, That nouther yive ne behote In rewardinge of mi servise It list hire in no maner wise. I wol noght say that sche is kinde, And forto sai sche is unkinde, That dar I noght; bot god above, Which demeth every herte of love, 5200 He wot that on myn oghne side Schal non unkindeschipe abide: If it schal with mi ladi duelle, Therof dar I nomore telle. Nou, goode fader, as it is, Tell me what thenketh you of this. Mi Sone, of that unkindeschipe, The which toward thi ladischipe Thou pleignest, for sche wol thee noght, Thou art to blamen of that thoght. 5210 For it mai be that thi desir, Thogh it brenne evere as doth the fyr, Per cas to hire honour missit, Or elles time com noght yit, Which standt upon thi destine: Forthi, mi Sone, I rede thee, Thenk wel, what evere the befalle; For noman hath his lustes alle. Bot as thou toldest me before That thou to love art noght forswore, 5220 And hast don non unkindenesse, Thou miht therof thi grace blesse: And lef noght that continuance; For ther mai be no such grevance To love, as is unkindeschipe. Wherof to kepe thi worschipe, So as these olde bokes tale, I schal thee telle a redi tale: Nou herkne and be wel war therby, For I wol telle it openly. 5230 Mynos, as telleth the Poete, The which whilom was king of Crete, A Sone hadde and Androchee He hihte: and so befell that he Unto Athenes forto lere Was send, and so he bar him there, For that he was of hih lignage, Such pride he tok in his corage, That he foryeten hath the Scoles, And in riote among the foles 5240 He dede manye thinges wronge; And useth thilke lif so longe, Til ate laste of that he wroghte He fond the meschief which he soghte, Wherof it fell that he was slain. His fader, which it herde sain, Was wroth, and al that evere he mihte, Of men of Armes he him dighte A strong pouer, and forth he wente Unto Athenys, where he brente 5250 The pleine contre al aboute: The Cites stode of him in doute, As thei that no defence hadde Ayein the pouer which he ladde. Ege
s, which was there king, His conseil tok upon this thing, For he was thanne in the Cite: So that of pes into tretee Betwen Mynos and Ege
s Thei felle, and ben acorded thus; 5260 That king Mynos fro yer to yeere Receive schal, as thou schalt here, Out of Athenys for truage Of men that were of myhti Age Persones nyne, of whiche he schal His wille don in special For vengance of his Sones deth. Non other grace ther ne geth, Bot forto take the juise; And that was don in such a wise, 5270 Which stod upon a wonder cas. For thilke time so it was, Wherof that men yit rede and singe, King Mynos hadde in his kepinge A cruel Monstre, as seith the geste: For he was half man and half beste, And Minotaurus he was hote, Which was begete in a riote Upon Pasiphe, his oghne wif, Whil he was oute upon the strif 5280 Of thilke grete Siege at Troie. Bot sche, which lost hath alle joie, Whan that sche syh this Monstre bore, Bad men ordeigne anon therfore: And fell that ilke time thus, Ther was a Clerk, on Dedalus, Which hadde ben of hire assent Of that hir world was so miswent; And he made of his oghne wit, Wherof the remembrance is yit, 5290 For Minotaure such an hous, Which was so strange and merveilous, That what man that withinne wente, Ther was so many a sondri wente, That he ne scholde noght come oute, But gon amased al aboute. And in this hous to loke and warde Was Minotaurus put in warde, That what lif that therinne cam, Or man or beste, he overcam 5300 And slow, and fedde him therupon; And in this wise many on Out of Athenys for truage Devoured weren in that rage. For every yeer thei schope hem so, Thei of Athenys, er thei go Toward that ilke wofull chance, As it was set in ordinance, Upon fortune here lot thei caste; Til that These
s ate laste, 5310 Which was the kinges Sone there, Amonges othre that ther were In thilke yeer, as it befell, The lot upon his chance fell. He was a worthi kniht withalle; And whan he sih this chance falle, He ferde as thogh he tok non hiede, Bot al that evere he mihte spiede, With him and with his felaschipe Forth into Crete he goth be Schipe; 5320 Wher that the king Mynos he soghte, And profreth all that he him oghte Upon the point of here acord. This sterne king, this cruel lord Tok every day on of the Nyne, And put him to the discipline Of Minotaure, to be devoured; Bot These
s was so favoured, That he was kept til ate laste. And in the meene while he caste 5330 What thing him were best to do: And fell that Adriagne tho, Which was the dowhter of Mynos, And hadde herd the worthi los Of These
s and of his myht, And syh he was a lusti kniht, Hire hole herte on him sche leide, And he also of love hir preide, So ferforth that thei were al on. And sche ordeigneth thanne anon 5340 In what manere he scholde him save, And schop so that sche dede him have A clue of thred, of which withinne Ferst ate dore he schal beginne With him to take that on ende, That whan he wolde ayeinward wende, He mihte go the same weie. And over this, so as I seie, Of pich sche tok him a pelote, The which he scholde into the throte 5350 Of Minotaure caste rihte: Such wepne also for him sche dighte, That he be reson mai noght faile To make an ende of his bataile; For sche him tawhte in sondri wise, Til he was knowe of thilke emprise, Hou he this beste schulde quelle. And thus, schort tale forto telle, So as this Maide him hadde tawht, These
s with this Monstre fawht, 5360 Smot of his hed, the which he nam, And be the thred, so as he cam, He goth ayein, til he were oute. Tho was gret wonder al aboute: Mynos the tribut hath relessed, And so was al the werre cessed Betwen Athene and hem of Crete. Bot now to speke of thilke suete, Whos beaute was withoute wane, This faire Maiden Adriane, 5370 Whan that sche sih These
s sound, Was nevere yit upon the ground A gladder wyht that sche was tho. These
s duelte a dai or tuo Wher that Mynos gret chiere him dede: These
s in a prive stede Hath with this Maiden spoke and rouned, That sche to him was abandouned In al that evere that sche couthe, So that of thilke lusty youthe 5380 Al prively betwen hem tweie The ferste flour he tok aweie. For he so faire tho behihte That evere, whil he live mihte, He scholde hire take for his wif, And as his oghne hertes lif He scholde hire love and trouthe bere; And sche, which mihte noght forbere, So sore loveth him ayein, That what as evere he wolde sein 5390 With al hire herte sche believeth. And thus his pourpos he achieveth, So that assured of his trouthe With him sche wente, and that was routhe. Fedra hire yonger Soster eke, A lusti Maide, a sobre, a meke, Fulfild of alle curtesie, For Sosterhode and compainie Of love, which was hem betuene, To sen hire Soster mad a queene, 5400 Hire fader lefte and forth sche wente With him, which al his ferste entente Foryat withinne a litel throwe, So that it was al overthrowe, Whan sche best wende it scholde stonde. The Schip was blowe fro the londe, Wherin that thei seilende were; This Adriagne hath mochel fere Of that the wynd so loude bleu, As sche which of the See ne kneu, 5410 And preide forto reste a whyle. And so fell that upon an yle, Which Chyo hihte, thei ben drive, Where he to hire his leve hath yive That sche schal londe and take hire reste. Bot that was nothing for the beste: For whan sche was to londe broght, Sche, which that time thoghte noght Bot alle trouthe, and tok no kepe, Hath leid hire softe forto slepe, 5420 As sche which longe hath ben forwacched; Bot certes sche was evele macched And fer from alle loves kinde; For more than the beste unkinde These
s, which no trouthe kepte, Whil that this yonge ladi slepte, Fulfild of his unkindeschipe Hath al foryete the goodschipe Which Adriane him hadde do, And bad unto the Schipmen tho 5430 Hale up the seil and noght abyde, And forth he goth the same tyde Toward Athene, and hire alonde He lefte, which lay nyh the stronde Slepende, til that sche awok. Bot whan that sche cast up hire lok Toward the stronde and sih no wyht, Hire herte was so sore aflyht, That sche ne wiste what to thinke, Bot drouh hire to the water brinke, 5440 Wher sche behield the See at large. Sche sih no Schip, sche sih no barge Als ferforth as sche mihte kenne: "Ha lord," sche seide, "which a Senne, As al the world schal after hiere, Upon this woful womman hiere This worthi kniht hath don and wroght! I wende I hadde his love boght, And so deserved ate nede, Whan that he stod upon his drede, 5450 And ek the love he me behihte. It is gret wonder hou he mihte Towardes me nou ben unkinde, And so to lete out of his mynde Thing which he seide his oghne mouth. Bot after this whan it is couth And drawe into the worldes fame, It schal ben hindringe of his name: For wel he wot and so wot I, He yaf his trouthe bodily, 5460 That he myn honour scholde kepe." And with that word sche gan to wepe, And sorweth more than ynouh: Hire faire tresces sche todrouh, And with hirself tok such a strif, That sche betwen the deth and lif Swounende lay fulofte among. And al was this on him along, Which was to love unkinde so, Wherof the wrong schal everemo 5470 Stonde in Cronique of remembrance. And ek it asketh a vengance To ben unkinde in loves cas, So as These
s thanne was, Al thogh he were a noble kniht; For he the lawe of loves riht Forfeted hath in alle weie, That Adriagne he putte aweie, Which was a gret unkinde dede: And after this, so as I rede, 5480 Fedra, the which hir Soster is, He tok in stede of hire, and this Fel afterward to mochel teene. For thilke vice of which I meene, Unkindeschipe, where it falleth, The trouthe of mannes herte it palleth, That he can no good dede aquite: So mai he stonde of no merite Towardes god, and ek also Men clepen him the worldes fo; 5490 For he nomore than the fend Unto non other man is frend, Bot al toward himself al one. Forthi, mi Sone, in thi persone This vice above all othre fle. Mi fader, as ye techen me, I thenke don in this matiere. Bot over this nou wolde I hiere, Wherof I schal me schryve more. Mi goode Sone, and for thi lore, 5500 After the reule of coveitise I schal the proprete devise Of every vice by and by. Nou herkne and be wel war therby. In the lignage of Avarice, Mi Sone, yit ther is a vice, His rihte name it is Ravine, Which hath a route of his covine. Ravine among the maistres duelleth, And with his servantz, as men telleth, 5510 Extorcion is nou withholde: Ravine of othre mennes folde Makth his larder and paieth noght; For wher as evere it mai be soght, In his hous ther schal nothing lacke, And that fulofte abyth the packe Of povere men that duelle aboute. Thus stant the comun poeple in doute, Which can do non amendement; For whanne him faileth paiement, 5520 Ravine makth non other skile, Bot takth be strengthe what he wile. So ben ther in the same wise Lovers, as I thee schal devise, That whan noght elles mai availe, Anon with strengthe thei assaile And gete of love the sesine, Whan thei se time, be Ravine. Forthi, mi Sone, schrif thee hier, If thou hast ben a Raviner 5530 Of love. Certes, fader, no: For I mi ladi love so, That thogh I were as was Pompeie, That al the world me wolde obeie, Or elles such as Alisandre, I wolde noght do such a sklaundre; It is no good man, which so doth. In good feith, Sone, thou seist soth: For he that wole of pourveance Be such a weie his lust avance, 5540 He schal it after sore abie, Bot if these olde ensamples lie. Nou, goode fader, tell me on, So as ye cunne manyon, Touchende of love in this matiere. Nou list, mi Sone, and thou schalt hiere, So as it hath befalle er this, In loves cause hou that it is A man to take be Ravine The preie which is femeline. 5550 Ther was a real noble king, And riche of alle worldes thing, Which of his propre enheritance Athenes hadde in governance, And who so thenke therupon, His name was king Pandion. Tuo douhtres hadde he be his wif, The whiche he lovede as his lif; The ferste douhter Progne hihte, And the secounde, as sche wel mihte, 5560 Was cleped faire Philomene, To whom fell after mochel tene. The fader of his pourveance His doughter Progne wolde avance, And yaf hire unto mariage A worthi king of hih lignage, A noble kniht eke of his hond, So was he kid in every lond, Of Trace he hihte Tere
s; The clerk Ovide telleth thus. 5570 This Tere
s his wif hom ladde, A lusti lif with hire he hadde; Til it befell upon a tyde, This Progne, as sche lay him besyde, Bethoughte hir hou it mihte be That sche hir Soster myhte se, And to hir lord hir will sche seide, With goodly wordes and him preide That sche to hire mihte go: And if it liked him noght so, 5580 That thanne he wolde himselve wende, Or elles be som other sende, Which mihte hire diere Soster griete, And schape hou that thei mihten miete. Hir lord anon to that he herde Yaf his acord, and thus ansuerde: "I wole," he seide, "for thi sake The weie after thi Soster take Miself, and bringe hire, if I may." And sche with that, there as he lay, 5590 Began him in hire armes clippe, And kist him with hir softe lippe, And seide, "Sire, grant mercy." And he sone after was redy, And tok his leve forto go; In sori time dede he so. This Tere
s goth forth to Schipe With him and with his felaschipe; Be See the rihte cours he nam, Into the contre til he cam, 5600 Wher Philomene was duellinge, And of hir Soster the tidinge He tolde, and tho thei weren glade, And mochel joie of him thei made. The fader and the moder bothe To leve here douhter weren lothe, Bot if thei weren in presence; And natheles at reverence Of him, that wolde himself travaile, Thei wolden noght he scholde faile 5610 Of that he preide, and yive hire leve: And sche, that wolde noght beleve, In alle haste made hire yare Toward hir Soster forto fare, With Tere
s and forth sche wente. And he with al his hole entente, Whan sche was fro hir frendes go, Assoteth of hire love so, His yhe myhte he noght withholde, That he ne moste on hir beholde; 5620 And with the sihte he gan desire, And sette his oghne herte on fyre; And fyr, whan it to tow aprocheth, To him anon the strengthe acrocheth, Til with his hete it be devoured, The tow ne mai noght be socoured. And so that tirant raviner, Whan that sche was in his pouer, And he therto sawh time and place, As he that lost hath alle grace, 5630 Foryat he was a wedded man, And in a rage on hire he ran, Riht as a wolf which takth his preie. And sche began to crie and preie, "O fader, o mi moder diere, Nou help!" Bot thei ne mihte it hiere, And sche was of to litel myht Defense ayein so ruide a knyht To make, whanne he was so wod That he no reson understod, 5640 Bot hield hire under in such wise, That sche ne myhte noght arise, Bot lay oppressed and desesed, As if a goshauk hadde sesed A brid, which dorste noght for fere Remue: and thus this tirant there Beraft hire such thing as men sein Mai neveremor be yolde ayein, And that was the virginite: Of such Ravine it was pite. 5650 Bot whan sche to hirselven com, And of hir meschief hiede nom, And knew hou that sche was no maide, With wofull herte thus sche saide, "O thou of alle men the worste, Wher was ther evere man that dorste Do such a dede as thou hast do? That dai schal falle, I hope so, That I schal telle out al mi fille, And with mi speche I schal fulfille 5660 The wyde world in brede and lengthe. That thou hast do to me be strengthe, If I among the poeple duelle, Unto the poeple I schal it telle; And if I be withinne wall Of Stones closed, thanne I schal Unto the Stones clepe and crie, And tellen hem thi felonie; And if I to the wodes wende, Ther schal I tellen tale and ende, 5670 And crie it to the briddes oute, That thei schul hiere it al aboute. For I so loude it schal reherce, That my vois schal the hevene perce, That it schal soune in goddes Ere. Ha, false man, where is thi fere? O mor cruel than eny beste, Hou hast thou holden thi beheste Which thou unto my Soster madest? O thou, which alle love ungladest, 5680 And art ensample of alle untrewe, Nou wolde god mi Soster knewe, Of thin untrouthe, hou that it stod!" And he than as a Lyon wod With hise unhappi handes stronge Hire cauhte be the tresses longe, With whiche he bond ther bothe hire armes, That was a fieble dede of armes, And to the grounde anon hire caste, And out he clippeth also faste 5690 Hire tunge with a peire scheres. So what with blod and what with teres Out of hire yhe and of hir mouth, He made hire faire face uncouth: Sche lay swounende unto the deth, Ther was unethes eny breth; Bot yit whan he hire tunge refte, A litel part therof belefte, Bot sche with al no word mai soune, Bot chitre and as a brid jargoune. 5700 And natheles that wode hound Hir bodi hent up fro the ground, And sente hir there as be his wille Sche scholde abyde in prison stille For everemo: bot nou tak hiede What after fell of this misdede. Whanne al this meschief was befalle, This Tere
s, that foule him falle, Unto his contre hom he tyh; And whan he com his paleis nyh, 5710 His wif al redi there him kepte. Whan he hir sih, anon he wepte, And that he dede for deceite, For sche began to axe him streite, "Wher is mi Soster?" And he seide That sche was ded; and Progne abreide, As sche that was a wofull wif, And stod betuen hire deth and lif, Of that sche herde such tidinge: Bot for sche sih hire lord wepinge, 5720 She wende noght bot alle trouthe, And hadde wel the more routhe. The Perles weren tho forsake To hire, and blake clothes take; As sche that was gentil and kinde, In worschipe of hir Sostres mynde Sche made a riche enterement, For sche fond non amendement To syghen or to sobbe more: So was ther guile under the gore. 5730 Nou leve we this king and queene, And torne ayein to Philomene, As I began to tellen erst. Whan sche cam into prison ferst, It thoghte a kinges douhter strange To maken so soudein a change Fro welthe unto so grete a wo; And sche began to thenke tho, Thogh sche be mouthe nothing preide, Withinne hir herte thus sche seide: 5740 "O thou, almyhty Jupiter, That hihe sist and lokest fer, Thou soffrest many a wrong doinge, And yit it is noght thi willinge. To thee ther mai nothing ben hid, Thou wost hou it is me betid: I wolde I hadde noght be bore, For thanne I hadde noght forlore Mi speche and mi virginite. Bot, goode lord, al is in thee, 5750 Whan thou therof wolt do vengance And schape mi deliverance." And evere among this ladi wepte, And thoghte that sche nevere kepte To ben a worldes womman more, And that sche wissheth everemore. Bot ofte unto hir Soster diere Hire herte spekth in this manere, And seide, "Ha, Soster, if ye knewe Of myn astat, ye wolde rewe, 5760 I trowe, and my deliverance Ye wolde schape, and do vengance On him that is so fals a man: And natheles, so as I can, I wol you sende som tokninge, Wherof ye schul have knowlechinge Of thing I wot, that schal you lothe, The which you toucheth and me bothe." And tho withinne a whyle als tyt Sche waf a cloth of Selk al whyt 5770 With lettres and ymagerie, In which was al the felonie, Which Tere
s to hire hath do; And lappede it togedre tho And sette hir signet therupon And sende it unto Progne anon. The messager which forth it bar, What it amonteth is noght war; And natheles to Progne he goth And prively takth hire the cloth, 5780 And wente ayein riht as he cam, The court of him non hiede nam. Whan Progne of Philomene herde, Sche wolde knowe hou that it ferde, And opneth that the man hath broght, And wot therby what hath be wroght And what meschief ther is befalle. In swoune tho sche gan doun falle, And efte aros and gan to stonde, And eft sche takth the cloth on honde, 5790 Behield the lettres and thymages; Bot ate laste, "Of suche oultrages," Sche seith, "wepinge is noght the bote:" And swerth, if that sche live mote, It schal be venged otherwise. And with that sche gan hire avise Hou ferst sche mihte unto hire winne Hir Soster, that noman withinne, Bot only thei that were suore, It scholde knowe, and schop therfore 5800 That Tere
s nothing it wiste; And yit riht as hirselven liste, Hir Soster was delivered sone Out of prison, and be the mone To Progne sche was broght be nyhte. Whan ech of other hadde a sihte, In chambre, ther thei were al one, Thei maden many a pitous mone; Bot Progne most of sorwe made, Which sihe hir Soster pale and fade 5810 And specheles and deshonoured, Of that sche hadde be defloured; And ek upon hir lord sche thoghte, Of that he so untreuly wroghte And hadde his espousaile broke. Sche makth a vou it schal be wroke, And with that word sche kneleth doun Wepinge in gret devocioun: Unto Cupide and to Venus Sche preide, and seide thanne thus: 5820 "O ye, to whom nothing asterte Of love mai, for every herte Ye knowe, as ye that ben above The god and the goddesse of love; Ye witen wel that evere yit With al mi will and al my wit, Sith ferst ye schopen me to wedde, That I lay with mi lord abedde, I have be trewe in mi degre, And evere thoghte forto be, 5830 And nevere love in other place, Bot al only the king of Trace, Which is mi lord and I his wif. Bot nou allas this wofull strif! That I him thus ayeinward finde The most untrewe and most unkinde That evere in ladi armes lay. And wel I wot that he ne may Amende his wrong, it is so gret; For he to lytel of me let, 5840 Whan he myn oughne Soster tok, And me that am his wif forsok." Lo, thus to Venus and Cupide Sche preide, and furthermor sche cride Unto Appollo the hiheste, And seide, "O myghti god of reste, Thou do vengance of this debat. Mi Soster and al hire astat Thou wost, and hou sche hath forlore Hir maidenhod, and I therfore 5850 In al the world schal bere a blame Of that mi Soster hath a schame, That Tere
s to hire I sente: And wel thou wost that myn entente Was al for worschipe and for goode. O lord, that yifst the lives fode To every wyht, I prei thee hiere Thes wofull Sostres that ben hiere, And let ous noght to the ben lothe; We ben thin oghne wommen bothe." 5860 Thus pleigneth Progne and axeth wreche, And thogh hire Soster lacke speche, To him that alle thinges wot Hire sorwe is noght the lasse hot: Bot he that thanne had herd hem tuo, Him oughte have sorwed everemo For sorwe which was hem betuene. With signes pleigneth Philomene, And Progne seith, "It schal be wreke, That al the world therof schal speke." 5870 And Progne tho seknesse feigneth, Wherof unto hir lord sche pleigneth, And preith sche moste hire chambres kepe, And as hir liketh wake and slepe. And he hire granteth to be so; And thus togedre ben thei tuo, That wolde him bot a litel good. Nou herk hierafter hou it stod Of wofull auntres that befelle: Thes Sostres, that ben bothe felle,- 5880 And that was noght on hem along, Bot onliche on the grete wrong Which Tere
s hem hadde do,- Thei schopen forto venge hem tho. This Tere
s be Progne his wif A Sone hath, which as his lif He loveth, and Ithis he hihte: His moder wiste wel sche mihte Do Tere
s no more grief Than sle this child, which was so lief. 5890 Thus sche, that was, as who seith, mad Of wo, which hath hir overlad, Withoute insihte of moderhede Foryat pite and loste drede, And in hir chambre prively This child withouten noise or cry Sche slou, and hieu him al to pieces: And after with diverse spieces The fleissh, whan it was so toheewe, Sche takth, and makth therof a sewe, 5900 With which the fader at his mete Was served, til he hadde him ete; That he ne wiste hou that it stod, Bot thus his oughne fleissh and blod Himself devoureth ayein kinde, As he that was tofore unkinde. And thanne, er that he were arise, For that he scholde ben agrise, To schewen him the child was ded, This Philomene tok the hed 5910 Betwen tuo disshes, and al wrothe Tho comen forth the Sostres bothe, And setten it upon the bord. And Progne tho began the word, And seide, "O werste of alle wicke, Of conscience whom no pricke Mai stere, lo, what thou hast do! Lo, hier ben nou we Sostres tuo; O Raviner, lo hier thi preie, With whom so falsliche on the weie 5920 Thou hast thi tirannye wroght. Lo, nou it is somdel aboght, And bet it schal, for of thi dede The world schal evere singe and rede In remembrance of thi defame: For thou to love hast do such schame, That it schal nevere be foryete." With that he sterte up fro the mete, And schof the bord unto the flor, And cauhte a swerd anon and suor 5930 That thei scholde of his handes dye. And thei unto the goddes crie Begunne with so loude a stevene, That thei were herd unto the hevene; And in a twinclinge of an yhe The goddes, that the meschief syhe, Here formes changen alle thre. Echon of hem in his degre Was torned into briddes kinde; Diverseliche, as men mai finde, 5940 After thastat that thei were inne, Here formes were set atwinne. And as it telleth in the tale, The ferst into a nyhtingale Was schape, and that was Philomene, Which in the wynter is noght sene, For thanne ben the leves falle And naked ben the buisshes alle. For after that sche was a brid, Hir will was evere to ben hid, 5950 And forto duelle in prive place, That noman scholde sen hir face For schame, which mai noght be lassed, Of thing that was tofore passed, Whan that sche loste hir maidenhiede: For evere upon hir wommanhiede, Thogh that the goddes wolde hire change, Sche thenkth, and is the more strange, And halt hir clos the wyntres day. Bot whan the wynter goth away, 5960 And that Nature the goddesse Wole of hir oughne fre largesse With herbes and with floures bothe The feldes and the medwes clothe, And ek the wodes and the greves Ben heled al with grene leves, So that a brid hire hyde mai, Betwen Averil and March and Maii, Sche that the wynter hield hir clos, For pure schame and noght aros, 5970 Whan that sche seth the bowes thikke, And that ther is no bare sticke, Bot al is hid with leves grene, To wode comth this Philomene And makth hir ferste yeres flyht; Wher as sche singeth day and nyht, And in hir song al openly Sche makth hir pleignte and seith, "O why, O why ne were I yit a maide?" For so these olde wise saide, 5980 Which understoden what sche mente, Hire notes ben of such entente. And ek thei seide hou in hir song Sche makth gret joie and merthe among, And seith, "Ha, nou I am a brid, Ha, nou mi face mai ben hid: Thogh I have lost mi Maidenhede, Schal noman se my chekes rede." Thus medleth sche with joie wo And with hir sorwe merthe also, 5990 So that of loves maladie Sche makth diverse melodie, And seith love is a wofull blisse, A wisdom which can noman wisse, A lusti fievere, a wounde softe: This note sche reherceth ofte To hem whiche understonde hir tale. Nou have I of this nyhtingale, Which erst was cleped Philomene, Told al that evere I wolde mene, 6000 Bothe of hir forme and of hir note, Wherof men mai the storie note. And of hir Soster Progne I finde, Hou sche was torned out of kinde Into a Swalwe swift of winge, Which ek in wynter lith swounynge, Ther as sche mai nothing be sene: Bot whan the world is woxe grene And comen is the Somertide, Than fleth sche forth and ginth to chide, 6010 And chitreth out in hir langage What falshod is in mariage, And telleth in a maner speche Of Tere
s the Spousebreche. Sche wol noght in the wodes duelle, For sche wolde openliche telle; And ek for that sche was a spouse, Among the folk sche comth to house, To do thes wyves understonde The falshod of hire housebonde, 6020 That thei of hem be war also, For ther ben manye untrewe of tho. Thus ben the Sostres briddes bothe, And ben toward the men so lothe, That thei ne wole of pure schame Unto no mannes hand be tame; For evere it duelleth in here mynde Of that thei founde a man unkinde, And that was false Tere
s. If such on be amonges ous 6030 I not, bot his condicion Men sein in every region Withinne toune and ek withoute Nou regneth comunliche aboute. And natheles in remembrance I wol declare what vengance The goddes hadden him ordeined, Of that the Sostres hadden pleigned: For anon after he was changed And from his oghne kinde stranged, 6040 A lappewincke mad he was, And thus he hoppeth on the gras, And on his hed ther stant upriht A creste in tokne he was a kniht; And yit unto this dai men seith, A lappewincke hath lore his feith And is the brid falseste of alle. Bewar, mi Sone, er thee so falle; For if thou be of such covine, To gete of love be Ravine 6050 Thi lust, it mai thee falle thus, As it befell of Tere
s. Mi fader, goddes forebode! Me were levere be fortrode With wilde hors and be todrawe, Er I ayein love and his lawe Dede eny thing or loude or stille, Which were noght mi ladi wille. Men sein that every love hath drede; So folweth it that I hire drede, 6060 For I hire love, and who so dredeth, To plese his love and serve him nedeth. Thus mai ye knowen be this skile That no Ravine don I wile Ayein hir will be such a weie; Bot while I live, I wol obeie Abidinge on hire courtesie, If eny merci wolde hir plie. Forthi, mi fader, as of this I wot noght I have don amis: 6070 Bot furthermore I you beseche, Som other point that ye me teche, And axeth forth, if ther be auht, That I mai be the betre tauht. Whan Covoitise in povere astat Stant with himself upon debat Thurgh lacke of his misgovernance, That he unto his sustienance Ne can non other weie finde To gete him good, thanne as the blinde, 6080 Which seth noght what schal after falle, That ilke vice which men calle Of Robberie, he takth on honde; Wherof be water and be londe Of thing which othre men beswinke He get him cloth and mete and drinke. Him reccheth noght what he beginne, Thurgh thefte so that he mai winne: Forthi to maken his pourchas He lith awaitende on the pas, 6090 And what thing that he seth ther passe, He takth his part, or more or lasse, If it be worthi to be take. He can the packes wel ransake, So prively berth non aboute His gold, that he ne fint it oute, Or other juel, what it be; He takth it as his proprete. In wodes and in feldes eke Thus Robberie goth to seke, 6100 Wher as he mai his pourpos finde. And riht so in the same kinde, My goode Sone, as thou miht hiere, To speke of love in the matiere And make a verrai resemblance, Riht as a thief makth his chevance And robbeth mennes good aboute In wode and field, wher he goth oute, So be ther of these lovers some, In wylde stedes wher thei come 6110 And finden there a womman able, And therto place covenable, Withoute leve, er that thei fare, Thei take a part of that chaffare: Yee, though sche were a Scheperdesse, Yit wol the lord of wantounesse Assaie, althogh sche be unmete, For other mennes good is swete. Bot therof wot nothing the wif At hom, which loveth as hir lif 6120 Hir lord, and sitt alday wisshinge After hir lordes hom comynge: Bot whan that he comth hom at eve, Anon he makth his wif beleve, For sche noght elles scholde knowe: He telth hire hou his hunte hath blowe, And hou his houndes have wel runne, And hou ther schon a merye Sunne, And hou his haukes flowen wel; Bot he wol telle her nevere a diel 6130 Hou he to love untrewe was, Of that he robbede in the pas, And tok his lust under the schawe Ayein love and ayein his lawe. Which thing, mi Sone, I thee forbede, For it is an ungoodly dede. For who that takth be Robberie His love, he mai noght justefie His cause, and so fulofte sithe For ones that he hath be blithe 6140 He schal ben after sory thries. Ensample of suche Robberies I finde write, as thou schalt hiere, Acordende unto this matiere. I rede hou whilom was a Maide, The faireste, as Ovide saide, Which was in hire time tho; And sche was of the chambre also Of Pallas, which is the goddesse And wif to Marte, of whom prouesse 6150 Is yove to these worthi knihtes. For he is of so grete mihtes, That he governeth the bataille; Withouten him may noght availe The stronge hond, bot he it helpe; Ther mai no knyht of armes yelpe, Bot he feihte under his banere. Bot nou to speke of mi matiere, This faire, freisshe, lusti mai, Al one as sche wente on a dai 6160 Upon the stronde forto pleie, Ther cam Neptunus in the weie, Which hath the See in governance; And in his herte such plesance He tok, whan he this Maide sih, That al his herte aros on hih, For he so sodeinliche unwar Behield the beaute that sche bar. And caste anon withinne his herte That sche him schal no weie asterte, 6170 Bot if he take in avantage Fro thilke maide som pilage, Noght of the broches ne the Ringes, Bot of some othre smale thinges He thoghte parte, er that sche wente; And hire in bothe hise armes hente, And putte his hond toward the cofre, Wher forto robbe he made a profre, That lusti tresor forto stele, Which passeth othre goodes fele 6180 And cleped is the maidenhede, Which is the flour of wommanhede. This Maiden, which Cornix be name Was hote, dredende alle schame, Sih that sche mihte noght debate, And wel sche wiste he wolde algate Fulfille his lust of Robberie, Anon began to wepe and crie, And seide, "O Pallas, noble queene, Scheu nou thi myht and let be sene, 6190 To kepe and save myn honour: Help, that I lese noght mi flour, Which nou under thi keie is loke." That word was noght so sone spoke, Whan Pallas schop recoverir After the will and the desir Of hire, which a Maiden was, And sodeinliche upon this cas Out of hire wommanisshe kinde Into a briddes like I finde 6200 Sche was transformed forth withal, So that Neptunus nothing stal Of such thing as he wolde have stole. With fetheres blake as eny cole Out of hise armes in a throwe Sche flih before his yhe a Crowe; Which was to hire a more delit, To kepe hire maidenhede whit Under the wede of fethers blake, In Perles whyte than forsake 6210 That no lif mai restore ayein. Bot thus Neptune his herte in vein Hath upon Robberie sett; The bridd is flowe and he was let, The faire Maide him hath ascaped, Wherof for evere he was bejaped And scorned of that he hath lore. Mi Sone, be thou war therfore That thou no maidenhode stele, Wherof men sen deseses fele 6220 Aldai befalle in sondri wise; So as I schal thee yit devise An other tale therupon, Which fell be olde daies gon. King Lichaon upon his wif A dowhter hadde, a goodly lif, A clene Maide of worthi fame, Calistona whos rihte name Was cleped, and of many a lord Sche was besoght, bot hire acord 6230 To love myhte noman winne, As sche which hath no lust therinne; Bot swor withinne hir herte and saide That sche wolde evere ben a Maide. Wherof to kepe hireself in pes, With suche as Amadriades Were cleped, wodemaydes, tho, And with the Nimphes ek also Upon the spring of freisshe welles Sche schop to duelle and nagher elles. 6240 And thus cam this Calistona Into the wode of Tegea, Wher sche virginite behihte Unto Diane, and therto plihte Her trouthe upon the bowes grene, To kepe hir maidenhode clene. Which afterward upon a day Was priveliche stole away; For Jupiter thurgh his queintise From hire it tok in such a wise, 6250 That sodeinliche forth withal Hire wombe aros and sche toswal, So that it mihte noght ben hidd. And therupon it is betidd, Diane, which it herde telle, In prive place unto a welle With Nimphes al a compainie Was come, and in a ragerie Sche seide that sche bathe wolde, And bad that every maide scholde 6260 With hire al naked bathe also. And tho began the prive wo, Calistona wax red for schame; Bot thei that knewe noght the game, To whom no such thing was befalle, Anon thei made hem naked alle, As thei that nothing wolden hyde: Bot sche withdrouh hire evere asyde, And natheles into the flod, Wher that Diane hirselve stod, 6270 Sche thoghte come unaperceived. Bot therof sche was al deceived; For whan sche cam a litel nyh, And that Diane hire wombe syh, Sche seide, "Awey, thou foule beste, For thin astat is noght honeste This chaste water forto touche; For thou hast take such a touche, Which nevere mai ben hol ayein." And thus goth sche which was forlein 6280 With schame, and fro the Nimphes fledde, Til whanne that nature hire spedde, That of a Sone, which Archas Was named, sche delivered was. And tho Juno, which was the wif Of Jupiter, wroth and hastif, In pourpos forto do vengance Cam forth upon this ilke chance, And to Calistona sche spak, And sette upon hir many a lak, 6290 And seide, "Ha, nou thou art atake, That thou thi werk myht noght forsake. Ha, thou ungoodlich ypocrite, Hou thou art gretly forto wyte! Bot nou thou schalt ful sore abie That ilke stelthe and micherie, Which thou hast bothe take and do; Wherof thi fader Lichao Schal noght be glad, whan he it wot, Of that his dowhter was so hot, 6300 That sche hath broke hire chaste avou. Bot I thee schal chastise nou; Thi grete beaute schal be torned, Thurgh which that thou hast be mistorned, Thi large frount, thin yhen greie, I schal hem change in other weie, And al the feture of thi face In such a wise I schal deface, That every man thee schal forbere." With that the liknesse of a bere 6310 Sche tok and was forschape anon. Withinne a time and therupon Befell that with a bowe on honde, To hunte and gamen forto fonde, Into that wode goth to pleie Hir Sone Archas, and in his weie It hapneth that this bere cam. And whan that sche good hiede nam, Wher that he stod under the bowh, Sche kneu him wel and to him drouh; 6320 For thogh sche hadde hire forme lore, The love was noght lost therfore Which kinde hath set under his lawe. Whan sche under the wodesschawe Hire child behield, sche was so glad, That sche with bothe hire armes sprad, As thogh sche were in wommanhiede, Toward him cam, and tok non hiede Of that he bar a bowe bent. And he with that an Arwe hath hent 6330 And gan to teise it in his bowe, As he that can non other knowe, Bot that it was a beste wylde. Bot Jupiter, which wolde schylde The Moder and the Sone also, Ordeineth for hem bothe so, That thei for evere were save. Bot thus, mi Sone, thou myht have Ensample, hou that it is to fle To robbe the virginite 6340 Of a yong innocent aweie: And overthis be other weie, In olde bokes as I rede, Such Robberie is forto drede, And nameliche of thilke good Which every womman that is good Desireth forto kepe and holde, As whilom was be daies olde. For if thou se mi tale wel Of that was tho, thou miht somdiel 6350 Of old ensample taken hiede, Hou that the flour of maidenhiede Was thilke time holde in pris. And so it was, and so it is, And so it schal for evere stonde: And for thou schalt it understonde, Nou herkne a tale next suiende, Hou maidenhod is to commende. Of Rome among the gestes olde I finde hou that Valerie tolde 6360 That what man tho was Emperour Of Rome, he scholde don honour To the virgine, and in the weie, Wher he hire mette, he scholde obeie In worschipe of virginite, Which tho was of gret dignite. Noght onliche of the wommen tho, Bot of the chaste men also It was commended overal: And forto speke in special 6370 Touchende of men, ensample I finde, Phyryns, which was of mannes kinde Above alle othre the faireste Of Rome and ek the comelieste, That wel was hire which him mihte Beholde and have of him a sihte. Thus was he tempted ofte sore; Bot for he wolde be nomore Among the wommen so coveited, The beaute of his face streited 6380 He hath, and threste out bothe hise yhen, That alle wommen whiche him syhen Thanne afterward, of him ne roghte: And thus his maidehiede he boghte. So mai I prove wel forthi, Above alle othre under the Sky, Who that the vertus wolde peise, Virginite is forto preise, Which, as thapocalips recordeth, To Crist in hevene best acordeth. 6390 So mai it schewe wel therfore, As I have told it hier tofore, In hevene and ek in Erthe also It is accept to bothe tuo. And if I schal more over this Declare what this vertu is, I finde write upon this thing Of Valentinian the king And Emperour be thilke daies, A worthi knyht at alle assaies, 6400 Hou he withoute Mariage Was of an hundred wynter Age, And hadde ben a worthi kniht Bothe of his lawe and of his myht. Bot whan men wolde his dedes peise And his knyhthode of Armes preise, Of that he dede with his hondes, Whan he the kinges and the londes To his subjeccion put under, Of al that pris hath he no wonder, 6410 For he it sette of non acompte, And seide al that may noght amonte Ayeins o point which he hath nome, That he his fleissh hath overcome: He was a virgine, as he seide; On that bataille his pris he leide. Lo nou, my Sone, avise thee. Yee, fader, al this wel mai be, Bot if alle othre dede so, The world of men were sone go: 6420 And in the lawe a man mai finde, Hou god to man be weie of kinde Hath set the world to multeplie; And who that wol him justefie, It is ynouh to do the lawe. And natheles youre goode sawe Is good to kepe, who so may, I wol noght therayein seie nay. Mi Sone, take it as I seie; If maidenhod be take aweie 6430 Withoute lawes ordinance, It mai noght failen of vengance. And if thou wolt the sothe wite, Behold a tale which is write, Hou that the King Agamenon, Whan he the Cite of Lesbon Hath wonne, a Maiden ther he fond, Which was the faireste of the Lond In thilke time that men wiste. He tok of hire what him liste 6440 Of thing which was most precious, Wherof that sche was dangerous. This faire Maiden cleped is Criseide, douhter of Crisis, Which was that time in special Of thilke temple principal, Wher Phebus hadde his sacrifice, So was it wel the more vice. Agamenon was thanne in weie To Troieward, and tok aweie 6450 This Maiden, which he with him ladde, So grete a lust in hire he hadde. Bot Phebus, which hath gret desdeign Of that his Maiden was forlein, Anon as he to Troie cam, Vengance upon this dede he nam And sende a comun pestilence. Thei soghten thanne here evidence And maden calculacion, To knowe in what condicion 6460 This deth cam in so sodeinly; And ate laste redyly The cause and ek the man thei founde: And forth withal the same stounde Agamenon opposed was, Which hath beknowen al the cas Of the folie which he wroghte. And therupon mercy thei soghte Toward the god in sondri wise With preiere and with sacrifise, 6470 The Maide and hom ayein thei sende, And yive hire good ynouh to spende For evere whil sche scholde live: And thus the Senne was foryive And al the pestilence cessed. Lo, what it is to ben encressed Of love which is evele wonne. It were betre noght begonne Than take a thing withoute leve, Which thou most after nedes leve, 6480 And yit have malgre forth withal. Forthi to robben overal In loves cause if thou beginne, I not what ese thou schalt winne. Mi Sone, be wel war of this, For thus of Robberie it is. Mi fader, youre ensamplerie In loves cause of Robberie I have it riht wel understonde. Bot overthis, hou so it stonde, 6490 Yit wolde I wite of youre aprise What thing is more of Covoitise. With Covoitise yit I finde A Servant of the same kinde, Which Stelthe is hote, and Mecherie With him is evere in compainie. Of whom if I schal telle soth, He stalketh as a Pocok doth, And takth his preie so covert, That noman wot it in apert. 6500 For whan he wot the lord from home, Than wol he stalke aboute and rome; And what thing he fint in his weie, Whan that he seth the men aweie, He stelth it and goth forth withal, That therof noman knowe schal. And ek fulofte he goth a nyht Withoute Mone or sterreliht, And with his craft the dore unpiketh, And takth therinne what him liketh: 6510 And if the dore be so schet, That he be of his entre let, He wole in ate wyndou crepe, And whil the lord is faste aslepe, He stelth what thing as him best list, And goth his weie er it be wist. Fulofte also be lyhte of day Yit wole he stele and make assay; Under the cote his hond he put, Til he the mannes Purs have cut, 6520 And rifleth that he fint therinne. And thus he auntreth him to winne, And berth an horn and noght ne bloweth, For noman of his conseil knoweth; What he mai gete of his Michinge, It is al bile under the winge. And as an hound that goth to folde And hath ther taken what he wolde, His mouth upon the gras he wypeth, And so with feigned chiere him slypeth, 6530 That what as evere of schep he strangle, Ther is noman therof schal jangle, As forto knowen who it dede; Riht so doth Stelthe in every stede, Where as him list his preie take. He can so wel his cause make And so wel feigne and so wel glose, That ther ne schal noman suppose, Bot that he were an innocent, And thus a mannes yhe he blent: 6540 So that this craft I mai remene Withouten help of eny mene. Ther be lovers of that degre, Which al here lust in privete, As who seith, geten al be Stelthe, And ofte atteignen to gret welthe As for the time that it lasteth. For love awaiteth evere and casteth Hou he mai stele and cacche his preie, Whan he therto mai finde a weie: 6550 For be it nyht or be it day, He takth his part, whan that he may, And if he mai nomore do, Yit wol he stele a cuss or tuo. Mi Sone, what seist thou therto? Tell if thou dedest evere so. Mi fader, hou? Mi Sone, thus,- If thou hast stolen eny cuss Or other thing which therto longeth, For noman suche thieves hongeth: 6560 Tell on forthi and sei the trouthe. Mi fader, nay, and that is routhe, For be mi will I am a thief; Bot sche that is to me most lief, Yit dorste I nevere in privete Noght ones take hire be the kne, To stele of hire or this or that, And if I dorste, I wot wel what: And natheles, bot if I lie, Be Stelthe ne be Robberie 6570 Of love, which fell in mi thoght, To hire dede I nevere noght. Bot as men sein, wher herte is failed, Ther schal no castell ben assailed; Bot thogh I hadde hertes ten, And were als strong as alle men, If I be noght myn oghne man And dar noght usen that I can, I mai miselve noght recovere. Thogh I be nevere man so povere, 6580 I bere an herte and hire it is, So that me faileth wit in this, Hou that I scholde of myn acord The servant lede ayein the lord: For if mi fot wolde awher go, Or that min hand wolde elles do, Whan that myn herte is therayein, The remenant is al in vein. And thus me lacketh alle wele, And yit ne dar I nothing stele 6590 Of thing which longeth unto love: And ek it is so hyh above, I mai noght wel therto areche, Bot if so be at time of speche, Ful selde if thanne I stele may A word or tuo and go my way. Betwen hire hih astat and me Comparison ther mai non be, So that I fiele and wel I wot, Al is to hevy and to hot 6600 To sette on hond withoute leve: And thus I mot algate leve To stele that I mai noght take, And in this wise I mot forsake To ben a thief ayein mi wille Of thing which I mai noght fulfille. For that Serpent which nevere slepte The flees of gold so wel ne kepte In Colchos, as the tale is told, That mi ladi a thousendfold 6610 Nys betre yemed and bewaked, Wher sche be clothed or be naked. To kepe hir bodi nyht and day, Sche hath a wardein redi ay, Which is so wonderful a wyht, That him ne mai no mannes myht With swerd ne with no wepne daunte, Ne with no sleihte of charme enchaunte, Wherof he mihte be mad tame, And Danger is his rihte name; 6620 Which under lock and under keie, That noman mai it stele aweie, Hath al the Tresor underfonge That unto love mai belonge. The leste lokinge of hire yhe Mai noght be stole, if he it syhe; And who so gruccheth for so lyte, He wolde sone sette a wyte On him that wolde stele more. And that me grieveth wonder sore, 6630 For this proverbe is evere newe, That stronge lokes maken trewe Of hem that wolden stele and pyke: For so wel can ther noman slyke Be him ne be non other mene, To whom Danger wol yive or lene Of that tresor he hath to kepe. So thogh I wolde stalke and crepe, And wayte on eve and ek on morwe, Of Danger schal I nothing borwe, 6640 And stele I wot wel may I noght: And thus I am riht wel bethoght, Whil Danger stant in his office, Of Stelthe, which ye clepe a vice, I schal be gultif neveremo. Therfore I wolde he were ago So fer that I nevere of him herde, Hou so that afterward it ferde: For thanne I mihte yit per cas Of love make som pourchas 6650 Be Stelthe or be som other weie, That nou fro me stant fer aweie. Bot, fader, as ye tolde above, Hou Stelthe goth a nyht for love, I mai noght wel that point forsake, That ofte times I ne wake On nyhtes, whan that othre slepe; Bot hou, I prei you taketh kepe. Whan I am loged in such wise That I be nyhte mai arise, 6660 At som wyndowe and loken oute And se the housinge al aboute, So that I mai the chambre knowe In which mi ladi, as I trowe, Lyth in hir bed and slepeth softe, Thanne is myn herte a thief fulofte: For there I stonde to beholde The longe nyhtes that ben colde, And thenke on hire that lyth there. And thanne I wisshe that I were 6670 Als wys as was Nectanabus Or elles as was Prothe
s, That couthen bothe of nigromaunce In what liknesse, in what semblaunce, Riht as hem liste, hemself transforme: For if I were of such a forme, I seie thanne I wolde fle Into the chambre forto se If eny grace wolde falle, So that I mihte under the palle 6680 Som thing of love pyke and stele. And thus I thenke thoghtes fele, And thogh therof nothing be soth, Yit ese as for a time it doth: Bot ate laste whanne I finde That I am falle into my mynde, And se that I have stonde longe And have no profit underfonge, Than stalke I to mi bedd withinne. And this is al that evere I winne 6690 Of love, whanne I walke on nyht: Mi will is good, bot of mi myht Me lacketh bothe and of mi grace; For what so that mi thoght embrace, Yit have I noght the betre ferd. Mi fader, lo, nou have ye herd What I be Stelthe of love have do, And hou mi will hath be therto: If I be worthi to penance I put it on your ordinance. 6700 Mi Sone, of Stelthe I the behiete, Thogh it be for a time swete, At ende it doth bot litel good, As be ensample hou that it stod Whilom, I mai thee telle nou. I preie you, fader, sei me hou. Mi Sone, of him which goth be daie Be weie of Stelthe to assaie, In loves cause and takth his preie, Ovide seide as I schal seie, 6710 And in his Methamor he tolde A tale, which is good to holde. The Poete upon this matiere Of Stelthe wrot in this manere. Venus, which hath this lawe in honde Of thing which mai noght be withstonde, As sche which the tresor to warde Of love hath withinne hir warde, Phebum to love hath so constreigned, That he withoute reste is peined 6720 With al his herte to coveite A Maiden, which was warded streyte Withinne chambre and kept so clos, That selden was whan sche desclos Goth with hir moder forto pleie. Leuchotoe, so as men seie, This Maiden hihte, and Orchamus Hir fader was; and befell thus. This doughter, that was kept so deere, And hadde be fro yer to yeere 6730 Under hir moder discipline A clene Maide and a Virgine, Upon the whos nativite Of comelihiede and of beaute Nature hath set al that sche may, That lich unto the fresshe Maii, Which othre monthes of the yeer Surmonteth, so withoute pier Was of this Maiden the feture. Wherof Phebus out of mesure 6740 Hire loveth, and on every syde Awaiteth, if so mai betyde, That he thurgh eny sleihte myhte Hire lusti maidenhod unrihte, The which were al his worldes welthe. And thus lurkende upon his stelthe In his await so longe he lai, Til it befell upon a dai, That he thurghout hir chambre wall Cam in al sodeinliche, and stall 6750 That thing which was to him so lief. Bot wo the while, he was a thief! For Venus, which was enemie Of thilke loves micherie, Discovereth al the pleine cas To Clymene, which thanne was Toward Phebus his concubine. And sche to lette the covine Of thilke love, dedli wroth To pleigne upon this Maide goth, 6760 And tolde hire fader hou it stod; Wherof for sorwe welnyh wod Unto hire moder thus he saide: "Lo, what it is to kepe a Maide! To Phebus dar I nothing speke, Bot upon hire I schal be wreke, So that these Maidens after this Mow take ensample, what it is To soffre her maidenhed be stole, Wherof that sche the deth schal thole." 6770 And bad with that do make a pet, Wherinne he hath his douhter set, As he that wol no pite have, So that sche was al quik begrave And deide anon in his presence. Bot Phebus, for the reverence Of that sche hadde be his love, Hath wroght thurgh his pouer above, That sche sprong up out of the molde Into a flour was named golde, 6780 Which stant governed of the Sonne. And thus whan love is evele wonne, Fulofte it comth to repentaile. Mi fader, that is no mervaile, Whan that the conseil is bewreid. Bot ofte time love hath pleid And stole many a prive game, Which nevere yit cam into blame, Whan that the thinges weren hidde. Bot in youre tale, as it betidde, 6790 Venus discoverede al the cas, And ek also brod dai it was, Whan Phebus such a Stelthe wroghte, Wherof the Maide in blame he broghte, That afterward sche was so lore. Bot for ye seiden nou tofore Hou stelthe of love goth be nyhte, And doth hise thinges out of syhte, Therof me liste also to hiere A tale lich to the matiere, 6800 Wherof I myhte ensample take. Mi goode Sone, and for thi sake, So as it fell be daies olde, And so as the Poete it tolde, Upon the nyhtes micherie Nou herkne a tale of Poesie. The myhtieste of alle men Whan Hercules with Eolen, Which was the love of his corage, Togedre upon a Pelrinage 6810 Towardes Rome scholden go, It fell hem be the weie so, That thei upon a dai a Cave Withinne a roche founden have, Which was real and glorious And of Entaile curious, Be name and Thophis it was hote. The Sonne schon tho wonder hote, As it was in the Somer tyde; This Hercules, which be his syde 6820 Hath Eolen his love there, Whan thei at thilke cave were, He seide it thoghte him for the beste That sche hire for the hete reste Al thilke day and thilke nyht; And sche, that was a lusti wyht, It liketh hire al that he seide: And thus thei duelle there and pleide The longe dai. And so befell, This Cave was under the hell 6830 Of Tymolus, which was begrowe With vines, and at thilke throwe Faunus with Saba the goddesse, Be whom the large wildernesse In thilke time stod governed, Weere in a place, as I am lerned, Nyh by, which Bachus wode hihte. This Faunus tok a gret insihte Of Eolen, that was so nyh; For whan that he hire beaute syh, 6840 Out of his wit he was assoted, And in his herte it hath so noted, That he forsok the Nimphes alle, And seide he wolde, hou so it falle, Assaie an other forto winne; So that his hertes thoght withinne He sette and caste hou that he myhte Of love pyke awey be nyhte That he be daie in other wise To stele mihte noght suffise: 6850 And therupon his time he waiteth. Nou tak good hiede hou love afaiteth Him which withal is overcome. Faire Eolen, whan sche was come With Hercules into the Cave, Sche seide him that sche wolde have Hise clothes of and hires bothe, That ech of hem scholde other clothe. And al was do riht as sche bad, He hath hire in hise clothes clad 6860 And caste on hire his gulion, Which of the Skyn of a Leoun Was mad, as he upon the weie It slouh, and overthis to pleie Sche tok his grete Mace also And knet it at hir gerdil tho. So was sche lich the man arraied, And Hercules thanne hath assaied To clothen him in hire array: And thus thei jape forth the dai, 6870 Til that her Souper redy were. And whan thei hadden souped there, Thei schopen hem to gon to reste; And as it thoghte hem for the beste, Thei bede, as for that ilke nyht, Tuo sondri beddes to be dyht, For thei togedre ligge nolde, Be cause that thei offre wolde Upon the morwe here sacrifice. The servantz deden here office 6880 And sondri beddes made anon, Wherin that thei to reste gon Ech be himself in sondri place. Faire Eole hath set the Mace Beside hire beddes hed above, And with the clothes of hire love Sche helede al hire bed aboute; And he, which hadde of nothing doute, Hire wympel wond aboute his cheke, Hire kertell and hire mantel eke 6890 Abrod upon his bed he spredde. And thus thei slepen bothe abedde; And what of travail, what of wyn, The servantz lich to drunke Swyn Begunne forto route faste. This Faunus, which his Stelthe caste, Was thanne come to the Cave, And fond thei weren alle save Withoute noise, and in he wente. The derke nyht his sihte blente, 6900 And yit it happeth him to go Where Eolen abedde tho Was leid al one for to slepe; Bot for he wolde take kepe Whos bed it was, he made assai, And of the Leoun, where it lay, The Cote he fond, and ek he fieleth The Mace, and thanne his herte kieleth, That there dorste he noght abyde, Bot stalketh upon every side 6910 And soghte aboute with his hond, That other bedd til that he fond, Wher lai bewympled a visage. Tho was he glad in his corage, For he hir kertell fond also And ek hir mantell bothe tuo Bespred upon the bed alofte. He made him naked thanne, and softe Into the bedd unwar he crepte, Wher Hercules that time slepte, 6920 And wende wel it were sche; And thus in stede of Eole Anon he profreth him to love. But he, which felte a man above, This Hercules, him threw to grounde So sore, that thei have him founde Liggende there upon the morwe; And tho was noght a litel sorwe, That Faunus of himselve made, Bot elles thei were alle glade 6930 And lowhen him to scorne aboute: Saba with Nimphis al a route Cam doun to loke hou that he ferde, And whan that thei the sothe herde, He was bejaped overal. Mi Sone, be thou war withal To seche suche mecheries, Bot if thou have the betre aspies, In aunter if the so betyde As Faunus dede thilke tyde, 6940 Wherof thou miht be schamed so. Min holi fader, certes no. Bot if I hadde riht good leve, Such mecherie I thenke leve: Mi feinte herte wol noght serve; For malgre wolde I noght deserve In thilke place wher I love. Bot for ye tolden hier above Of Covoitise and his pilage, If ther be more of that lignage, 6950 Which toucheth to mi schrifte, I preie That ye therof me wolde seie, So that I mai the vice eschuie. Mi Sone, if I be order suie The vices, as thei stonde arowe, Of Covoitise thou schalt knowe Ther is yit on, which is the laste; In whom ther mai no vertu laste, For he with god himself debateth, Wherof that al the hevene him hateth. 6960 The hihe god, which alle goode Pourveied hath for mannes fode Of clothes and of mete and drinke, Bad Adam that he scholde swinke To geten him his sustienance: And ek he sette an ordinance Upon the lawe of Moi5ses, That though a man be haveles, Yit schal he noght be thefte stele. Bot nou adaies ther ben fele, 6970 That wol no labour undertake, Bot what thei mai be Stelthe take Thei holde it sikerliche wonne. And thus the lawe is overronne, Which god hath set, and namely With hem that so untrewely The goodes robbe of holi cherche. The thefte which thei thanne werche Be name is cleped Sacrilegge, Ayein the whom I thenke alegge. 6980 Of his condicion to telle, Which rifleth bothe bok and belle, So forth with al the remenant To goddes hous appourtenant, Wher that he scholde bidde his bede, He doth his thefte in holi stede, And takth what thing he fint therinne: For whan he seth that he mai winne, He wondeth for no cursednesse, That he ne brekth the holinesse 6990 And doth to god no reverence; For he hath lost his conscience, That though the Prest therfore curse, He seith he fareth noght the wurse. And forto speke it otherwise, What man that lasseth the franchise And takth of holi cherche his preie, I not what bedes he schal preie. Whan he fro god, which hath yive al, The Pourpartie in special, 7000 Which unto Crist himself is due, Benymth, he mai noght wel eschue The peine comende afterward; For he hath mad his foreward With Sacrilegge forto duelle, Which hath his heritage in helle. And if we rede of tholde lawe, I finde write, in thilke dawe Of Princes hou ther weren thre Coupable sore in this degre. 7010 That on of hem was cleped thus, The proude king Antiochus; That other Nabuzardan hihte, Which of his crualte behyhte The temple to destruie and waste, And so he dede in alle haste; The thridde, which was after schamed, Was Nabugodonosor named, And he Jerusalem putte under, Of Sacrilegge and many a wonder 7020 There in the holi temple he wroghte, Which Baltazar his heir aboghte, Whan Mane, Techel, Phares write Was on the wal, as thou miht wite, So as the bible it hath declared. Bot for al that it is noght spared Yit nou aday, that men ne pile, And maken argument and skile To Sacrilegge as it belongeth, For what man that ther after longeth, 7030 He takth non hiede what he doth. And riht so, forto telle soth, In loves cause if I schal trete, Ther ben of suche smale and grete: If thei no leisir fynden elles, Thei wol noght wonden for the belles, Ne thogh thei sen the Prest at masse; That wol thei leten overpasse. If that thei finde here love there, Thei stonde and tellen in hire Ere, 7040 And axe of god non other grace, Whyl thei ben in that holi place; Bot er thei gon som avantage Ther wol thei have, and som pilage Of goodli word or of beheste, Or elles thei take ate leste Out of hir hand or ring or glove, So nyh the weder thei wol love, As who seith sche schal noght foryete, Nou I this tokne of hire have gete: 7050 Thus halwe thei the hihe feste. Such thefte mai no cherche areste, For al is leveful that hem liketh, To whom that elles it misliketh. And ek riht in the selve kinde In grete Cites men mai finde This lusti folk, that make it gay, And waite upon the haliday: In cherches and in Menstres eke Thei gon the wommen forto seke, 7060 And wher that such on goth aboute, Tofore the faireste of the route, Wher as thei sitten alle arewe, Ther wol he most his bodi schewe, His croket kembd and theron set A Nouche with a chapelet, Or elles on of grene leves, Which late com out of the greves, Al for he scholde seme freissh. And thus he loketh on the fleissh, 7070 Riht as an hauk which hath a sihte Upon the foul, ther he schal lihte; And as he were of faierie, He scheweth him tofore here yhe In holi place wher thei sitte, Al forto make here hertes flitte. His yhe nawher wole abyde, Bot loke and prie on every syde On hire and hire, as him best lyketh: And otherwhile among he syketh; 7080 Thenkth on of hem, "That was for me," And so ther thenken tuo or thre, And yit he loveth non of alle, Bot wher as evere his chance falle. And natheles to seie a soth, The cause why that he so doth Is forto stele an herte or tuo, Out of the cherche er that he go: And as I seide it hier above, Al is that Sacrilege of love; 7090 For wel mai be he stelth away That he nevere after yelde may. Tell me forthi, my Sone, anon, Hast thou do Sacrilege, or non, As I have said in this manere? Mi fader, as of this matiere I wole you tellen redely What I have do; bot trewely I mai excuse min entente, That nevere I yit to cherche wente 7100 In such manere as ye me schryve, For no womman that is on lyve. The cause why I have it laft Mai be for I unto that craft Am nothing able so to stele, Thogh ther be wommen noght so fele. Bot yit wol I noght seie this, Whan I am ther mi ladi is, In whom lith holly mi querele, And sche to cherche or to chapele 7110 Wol go to matins or to messe,- That time I waite wel and gesse, To cherche I come and there I stonde, And thogh I take a bok on honde, Mi contienance is on the bok, Bot toward hire is al my lok; And if so falle that I preie Unto mi god, and somwhat seie Of Paternoster or of Crede, Al is for that I wolde spede, 7120 So that mi bede in holi cherche Ther mihte som miracle werche Mi ladi herte forto chaunge, Which evere hath be to me so strange. So that al mi devocion And al mi contemplacion With al min herte and mi corage Is only set on hire ymage; And evere I waite upon the tyde. If sche loke eny thing asyde, 7130 That I me mai of hire avise, Anon I am with covoitise So smite, that me were lief To ben in holi cherche a thief; Bot noght to stele a vestement, For that is nothing mi talent, Bot I wold stele, if that I mihte, A glad word or a goodly syhte; And evere mi service I profre, And namly whan sche wol gon offre, 7140 For thanne I lede hire, if I may, For somwhat wolde I stele away. Whan I beclippe hire on the wast, Yit ate leste I stele a tast, And otherwhile "grant mercy" Sche seith, and so winne I therby A lusti touch, a good word eke, Bot al the remenant to seke Is fro mi pourpos wonder ferr. So mai I seie, as I seide er, 7150 In holy cherche if that I wowe, My conscience it wolde allowe, Be so that up amendement I mihte gete assignement Wher forto spede in other place: Such Sacrilege I holde a grace. And thus, mi fader, soth to seie, In cherche riht as in the weie, If I mihte oght of love take, Such hansell have I noght forsake. 7160 Bot finali I me confesse, Ther is in me non holinesse, Whil I hire se in eny stede; And yit, for oght that evere I dede, No Sacrilege of hire I tok, Bot if it were of word or lok, Or elles if that I hir fredde, Whan I toward offringe hir ledde, Take therof what I take may, For elles bere I noght away: 7170 For thogh I wolde oght elles have, Alle othre thinges ben so save And kept with such a privilege, That I mai do no Sacrilege. God wot mi wille natheles, Thogh I mot nedes kepe pes And malgre myn so let it passe, Mi will therto is noght the lasse, If I mihte other wise aweie. Forthi, mi fader, I you preie, 7180 Tell what you thenketh therupon, If I therof have gult or non. Thi will, mi Sone, is forto blame, The remenant is bot a game, That I have herd the telle as yit. Bot tak this lore into thi wit, That alle thing hath time and stede, The cherche serveth for the bede, The chambre is of an other speche. Bot if thou wistest of the wreche, 7190 Hou Sacrilege it hath aboght, Thou woldest betre ben bethoght; And for thou schalt the more amende, A tale I wole on the despende. To alle men, as who seith, knowe It is, and in the world thurgh blowe, Hou that of Troie Lamedon To Hercules and to Jasoun, Whan toward Colchos out of Grece Be See sailende upon a piece 7200 Of lond of Troie reste preide,- Bot he hem wrathfulli congeide: And for thei founde him so vilein, Whan thei come into Grece ayein, With pouer that thei gete myhte Towardes Troie thei hem dyhte, And ther thei token such vengance, Wherof stant yit the remembrance; For thei destruide king and al, And leften bot the brente wal. 7210 The Grecs of Troiens many slowe And prisoners thei toke ynowe, Among the whiche ther was on, The kinges doughter Lamedon, Esiona, that faire thing, Which unto Thelamon the king Be Hercules and be thassent Of al the hole parlement Was at his wille yove and granted. And thus hath Grece Troie danted, 7220 And hom thei torne in such manere: Bot after this nou schalt thou hiere The cause why this tale I telle, Upon the chances that befelle. King Lamedon, which deide thus, He hadde a Sone, on Priamus, Which was noght thilke time at hom: Bot whan he herde of this, he com, And fond hou the Cite was falle, Which he began anon to walle 7230 And made ther a cite newe, That thei whiche othre londes knewe Tho seiden, that of lym and Ston In al the world so fair was non. And on that o side of the toun The king let maken Ylioun, That hihe Tour, that stronge place, Which was adrad of no manace Of quarel nor of non engin; And thogh men wolde make a Myn, 7240 No mannes craft it mihte aproche, For it was sett upon a roche. The walles of the toun aboute, Hem stod of al the world no doute, And after the proporcion Sex gates weren of the toun Of such a forme, of such entaile, That hem to se was gret mervaile: The diches weren brode and depe, A fewe men it mihte kepe 7250 From al the world, as semeth tho, Bot if the goddes weren fo. Gret presse unto that cite drouh, So that ther was of poeple ynouh, Of Burgeis that therinne duellen; Ther mai no mannes tunge tellen Hou that cite was riche of good. Whan al was mad and al wel stod, King Priamus tho him bethoghte What thei of Grece whilom wroghte, 7260 And what was of her swerd devoured, And hou his Soster deshonoured With Thelamon awey was lad: And so thenkende he wax unglad, And sette anon a parlement, To which the lordes were assent. In many a wise ther was spoke, Hou that thei mihten ben awroke, Bot ate laste natheles Thei seiden alle, "Acord and pes." 7270 To setten either part in reste It thoghte hem thanne for the beste With resonable amendement; And thus was Anthenor forth sent To axe Esionam ayein And witen what thei wolden sein. So passeth he the See be barge To Grece forto seie his charge, The which he seide redely Unto the lordes by and by: 7280 Bot where he spak in Grece aboute, He herde noght bot wordes stoute, And nameliche of Thelamon; The maiden wolde he noght forgon, He seide, for no maner thing, And bad him gon hom to his king, For there gat he non amende For oght he couthe do or sende. This Anthenor ayein goth hom Unto his king, and whan he com, 7290 He tolde in Grece of that he herde, And hou that Thelamon ansuerde, And hou thei were at here above, That thei wol nouther pes ne love, Bot every man schal don his beste. Bot for men sein that nyht hath reste, The king bethoghte him al that nyht, And erli, whan the dai was lyht, He tok conseil of this matiere; And thei acorde in this manere, 7300 That he withouten eny lette A certein time scholde sette Of Parlement to ben avised: And in the wise it was devised, Of parlement he sette a day, And that was in the Monthe of Maii. This Priamus hadde in his yhte A wif, and Hecuba sche hyhte, Be whom that time ek hadde he Of Sones fyve, and douhtres thre 7310 Besiden hem, and thritty mo, And weren knyhtes alle tho, Bot noght upon his wif begete, Bot elles where he myhte hem gete Of wommen whiche he hadde knowe; Such was the world at thilke throwe: So that he was of children riche, As therof was noman his liche. Of Parlement the dai was come, Ther ben the lordes alle and some; 7320 Tho was pronounced and pourposed, And al the cause hem was desclosed, Hou Anthenor in Grece ferde. Thei seten alle stille and herde, And tho spak every man aboute: Ther was alegged many a doute, And many a proud word spoke also; Bot for the moste part as tho Thei wisten noght what was the beste, Or forto werre or forto reste. 7330 Bot he that was withoute fere, Hector, among the lordes there His tale tolde in such a wise, And seide, "Lordes, ye ben wise, Ye knowen this als wel as I, Above all othre most worthi Stant nou in Grece the manhode Of worthinesse and of knihthode; For who so wole it wel agrope, To hem belongeth al Europe, 7340 Which is the thridde parti evene Of al the world under the hevene; And we be bot of folk a fewe. So were it reson forto schewe The peril, er we falle thrinne: Betre is to leve, than beginne Thing which as mai noght ben achieved; He is noght wys that fint him grieved, And doth so that his grief be more; For who that loketh al tofore 7350 And wol noght se what is behinde, He mai fulofte hise harmes finde: Wicke is to stryve and have the worse. We have encheson forto corse, This wot I wel, and forto hate The Greks; bot er that we debate With hem that ben of such a myht, It is ful good that every wiht Be of himself riht wel bethoght. Bot as for me this seie I noght; 7360 For while that mi lif wol stonde, If that ye taken werre on honde, Falle it to beste or to the werste, I schal miselven be the ferste To grieven hem, what evere I may. I wol noght ones seie nay To thing which that youre conseil demeth, For unto me wel more it quemeth The werre certes than the pes; Bot this I seie natheles, 7370 As me belongeth forto seie. Nou schape ye the beste weie." Whan Hector hath seid his avis, Next after him tho spak Paris, Which was his brother, and alleide What him best thoghte, and thus he seide: "Strong thing it is to soffre wrong, And suffre schame is more strong, Bot we have suffred bothe tuo; And for al that yit have we do 7380 What so we mihte to reforme The pes, whan we in such a forme Sente Anthenor, as ye wel knowe. And thei here grete wordes blowe Upon her wrongful dedes eke; And who that wole himself noght meke To pes, and list no reson take, Men sein reson him wol forsake: For in the multitude of men Is noght the strengthe, for with ten 7390 It hath be sen in trew querele Ayein an hundred false dele, And had the betre of goddes grace. This hath befalle in many place; And if it like unto you alle, I wolde assaie, hou so it falle, Oure enemis if I mai grieve; For I have cawht a gret believe Upon a point I wol declare. This ender day, as I gan fare 7400 To hunte unto the grete hert, Which was tofore myn houndes stert, And every man went on his syde Him to poursuie, and I to ryde Began the chace, and soth to seie, Withinne a while out of mi weie I rod, and nyste where I was. And slep me cauhte, and on the gras Beside a welle I lay me doun To slepe, and in a visioun 7410 To me the god Mercurie cam; Goddesses thre with him he nam, Minerve, Venus and Juno, And in his hond an Appel tho He hield of gold with lettres write: And this he dede me to wite, Hou that thei putt hem upon me, That to the faireste of hem thre Of gold that Appel scholde I yive. With ech of hem tho was I schrive, 7420 And echon faire me behihte; Bot Venus seide, if that sche mihte That Appel of mi yifte gete, Sche wolde it neveremor foryete, And seide hou that in Grece lond Sche wolde bringe unto myn hond Of al this Erthe the faireste; So that me thoghte it for the beste, To hire and yaf that Appel tho. Thus hope I wel, if that I go, 7430 That sche for me wol so ordeine, That thei matiere forto pleigne Schul have, er that I come ayein. Nou have ye herd that I wol sein: Sey ye what stant in youre avis." And every man tho seide his, And sundri causes thei recorde, Bot ate laste thei acorde That Paris schal to Grece wende, And thus the parlement tok ende. 7440 Cassandra, whan sche herde of this, The which to Paris Soster is, Anon sche gan to wepe and weile, And seide, "Allas, what mai ous eile? Fortune with hire blinde whiel Ne wol noght lete ous stonde wel: For this I dar wel undertake, That if Paris his weie take, As it is seid that he schal do, We ben for evere thanne undo." 7450 This, which Cassandre thanne hihte, In al the world as it berth sihte, In bokes as men finde write, Is that Sibille of whom ye wite, That alle men yit clepen sage. Whan that sche wiste of this viage, Hou Paris schal to Grece fare, No womman mihte worse fare Ne sorwe more than sche dede; And riht so in the same stede 7460 Ferde Helenus, which was hir brother, Of prophecie and such an other: And al was holde bot a jape, So that the pourpos which was schape, Or were hem lief or were hem loth, Was holde, and into Grece goth This Paris with his retenance. And as it fell upon his chance, Of Grece he londeth in an yle, And him was told the same whyle 7470 Of folk which he began to freyne, Tho was in thyle queene Heleyne, And ek of contres there aboute Of ladis many a lusti route, With mochel worthi poeple also. And why thei comen theder tho, The cause stod in such a wise,- For worschipe and for sacrifise That thei to Venus wolden make, As thei tofore hadde undertake, 7480 Some of good will, some of beheste, For thanne was hire hihe feste Withinne a temple which was there. Whan Paris wiste what thei were, Anon he schop his ordinance To gon and don his obeissance To Venus on hire holi day, And dede upon his beste aray. With gret richesse he him behongeth, As it to such a lord belongeth, 7490 He was noght armed natheles, Bot as it were in lond of pes, And thus he goth forth out of Schipe And takth with him his felaschipe: In such manere as I you seie Unto the temple he hield his weie. Tydinge, which goth overal To grete and smale, forth withal Com to the queenes Ere and tolde Hou Paris com, and that he wolde 7500 Do sacrifise to Venus: And whan sche herde telle thus, Sche thoghte, hou that it evere be, That sche wole him abyde and se. Forth comth Paris with glad visage Into the temple on pelrinage, Wher unto Venus the goddesse He yifth and offreth gret richesse, And preith hir that he preie wolde. And thanne aside he gan beholde, 7510 And sih wher that this ladi stod; And he forth in his freisshe mod Goth ther sche was and made her chiere, As he wel couthe in his manere, That of his wordes such plesance Sche tok, that al hire aqueintance, Als ferforth as the herte lay, He stal er that he wente away. So goth he forth and tok his leve, And thoghte, anon as it was eve, 7520 He wolde don his Sacrilegge, That many a man it scholde abegge. Whan he to Schipe ayein was come, To him he hath his conseil nome, And al devised the matiere In such a wise as thou schalt hiere. Withinne nyht al prively His men he warneth by and by, That thei be redy armed sone For certein thing which was to done: 7530 And thei anon ben redi alle, And ech on other gan to calle, And went hem out upon the stronde And tok a pourpos ther alonde Of what thing that thei wolden do, Toward the temple and forth thei go. So fell it, of devocion Heleine in contemplacion With many an other worthi wiht Was in the temple and wok al nyht, 7540 To bidde and preie unto thymage Of Venus, as was thanne usage; So that Paris riht as him liste Into the temple, er thei it wiste, Com with his men al sodeinly, And alle at ones sette ascry In hem whiche in the temple were, For tho was mochel poeple there; Bot of defense was no bote, So soffren thei that soffre mote. 7550 Paris unto the queene wente, And hire in bothe hise armes hente With him and with his felaschipe, And forth thei bere hire unto Schipe. Up goth the Seil and forth thei wente, And such a wynd fortune hem sente, Til thei the havene of Troie cauhte; Where out of Schipe anon thei strauhte And gon hem forth toward the toun, The which cam with processioun 7560 Ayein Paris to sen his preie. And every man began to seie To Paris and his felaschipe Al that thei couthen of worschipe; Was non so litel man in Troie, That he ne made merthe and joie Of that Paris hath wonne Heleine. Bot al that merthe is sorwe and peine To Helenus and to Cassaundre; For thei it token schame and sklaundre 7570 And lost of al the comun grace, That Paris out of holi place Be Stelthe hath take a mannes wif, Wherof that he schal lese his lif And many a worthi man therto, And al the Cite be fordo, Which nevere schal be mad ayein. And so it fell, riht as thei sein, The Sacrilege which he wroghte Was cause why the Gregois soughte 7580 Unto the toun and it beleie, And wolden nevere parte aweie, Til what be sleihte and what be strengthe Thei hadde it wonne in brede and lengthe, And brent and slayn that was withinne. Now se, mi Sone, which a sinne Is Sacrilege in holy stede: Be war therfore and bidd thi bede, And do nothing in holy cherche, Bot that thou miht be reson werche. 7590 And ek tak hiede of Achilles, Whan he unto his love ches Polixena, that was also In holi temple of Appollo, Which was the cause why he dyde And al his lust was leyd asyde. And Troilus upon Criseide Also his ferste love leide In holi place, and hou it ferde, As who seith, al the world it herde; 7600 Forsake he