Ther was an yle, which Colchos

Was cleped, and therof aros

Gret speche in every lond aboute,

That such merveile was non oute

In al the wyde world nawhere,

As tho was in that yle there. 3270

Ther was a Schiep, as it was told,

The which his flees bar al of gold,

And so the goddes hadde it set,

That it ne mihte awei be fet

Be pouer of no worldes wiht:

And yit ful many a worthi kniht

It hadde assaied, as thei dorste,

And evere it fell hem to the worste.

Bot he, that wolde it noght forsake,

Bot of his knyhthod undertake 3280

To do what thing therto belongeth,

This worthi Jason, sore alongeth

To se the strange regiouns

And knowe the condiciouns

Of othre Marches, where he wente;

And for that cause his hole entente

He sette Colchos forto seche,

And therupon he made a speche

To Peleüs his Em the king.

And he wel paid was of that thing; 3290

And schop anon for his passage,

And suche as were of his lignage,

With othre knihtes whiche he ches,

With him he tok, and Hercules,

Which full was of chivalerie,

With Jason wente in compaignie;

And that was in the Monthe of Maii,

Whan colde stormes were away.

The wynd was good, the Schip was yare,

Thei tok here leve, and forth thei fare 3300

Toward Colchos: bot on the weie

What hem befell is long to seie;

Hou Lamedon the king of Troie,

Which oghte wel have mad hem joie.

Whan thei to reste a while him preide,

Out of his lond he hem congeide;

And so fell the dissencion,

Which after was destruccion

Of that Cite, as men mai hiere:

Bot that is noght to mi matiere. 3310

Bot thus this worthi folk Gregeis

Fro that king, which was noght curteis,

And fro his lond with Sail updrawe

Thei wente hem forth, and many a sawe

Thei made and many a gret manace,

Til ate laste into that place

Which as thei soghte thei aryve,

And striken Sail, and forth as blyve

Thei sente unto the king and tolden

Who weren ther and what thei wolden. 3320

Oëtes, which was thanne king,

Whan that he herde this tyding

Of Jason, which was comen there,

And of these othre, what thei were,

He thoghte don hem gret worschipe:

For thei anon come out of Schipe,

And strawht unto the king thei wente,

And be the hond Jason he hente,

And that was ate paleis gate,

So fer the king cam on his gate 3330

Toward Jason to don him chiere;

And he, whom lacketh no manere,

Whan he the king sih in presence,

Yaf him ayein such reverence

As to a kinges stat belongeth.

And thus the king him underfongeth,

And Jason in his arm he cawhte,

And forth into the halle he strawhte,

And ther they siete and spieke of thinges,

And Jason tolde him tho tidinges, 3340

Why he was come, and faire him preide

To haste his time, and the kyng seide,

“Jason, thou art a worthi kniht,

Bot it lith in no mannes myht

To don that thou art come fore:

Ther hath be many a kniht forlore

Of that thei wolden it assaie.”

Bot Jason wolde him noght esmaie,

And seide, “Of every worldes cure

Fortune stant in aventure, 3350

Per aunter wel, per aunter wo:

Bot hou as evere that it go,

It schal be with myn hond assaied.”

The king tho hield him noght wel paied,

For he the Grekes sore dredde,

In aunter, if Jason ne spedde,

He mihte therof bere a blame;

For tho was al the worldes fame

In Grece, as forto speke of Armes.

Forthi he dredde him of his harmes, 3360

And gan to preche him and to preie;

Bot Jason wolde noght obeie,

Bot seide he wolde his porpos holde

For ought that eny man him tolde.

The king, whan he thes wordes herde,

And sih hou that this kniht ansuerde,

Yit for he wolde make him glad,

After Medea gon he bad,

Which was his dowhter, and sche cam.

And Jason, which good hiede nam, 3370

Whan he hire sih, ayein hire goth;

And sche, which was him nothing loth,

Welcomede him into that lond,

And softe tok him be the hond,

And doun thei seten bothe same.

Sche hadde herd spoke of his name

And of his grete worthinesse;

Forthi sche gan hir yhe impresse

Upon his face and his stature,

And thoghte hou nevere creature 3380

Was so wel farende as was he.

And Jason riht in such degre

Ne mihte noght withholde his lok,

Bot so good hiede on hire he tok,

That him ne thoghte under the hevene

Of beaute sawh he nevere hir evene,

With al that fell to wommanhiede.

Thus ech of other token hiede,

Thogh ther no word was of record;

Here hertes bothe of on acord 3390

Ben set to love, bot as tho

Ther mihten be no wordes mo.

The king made him gret joie and feste,

To alle his men he yaf an heste,

So as thei wolde his thonk deserve,

That thei scholde alle Jason serve,

Whil that he wolde there duelle.

And thus the dai, schortly to telle,

With manye merthes thei despente,

Til nyht was come, and tho thei wente, 3400

Echon of other tok his leve,

Whan thei no lengere myhten leve.

I not hou Jason that nyht slep,

Bot wel I wot that of the Schep,

For which he cam into that yle,

He thoghte bot a litel whyle;

Al was Medea that he thoghte,

So that in many a wise he soghte

His witt wakende er it was day,

Som time yee, som time nay, 3410

Som time thus, som time so,

As he was stered to and fro

Of love, and ek of his conqueste

As he was holde of his beheste.

And thus he ros up be the morwe

And tok himself seint John to borwe,

And seide he wolde ferst beginne

At love, and after forto winne

The flees of gold, for which he com,

And thus to him good herte he nom. 3420

Medea riht the same wise,

Til dai cam that sche moste arise,

Lay and bethoughte hire al the nyht,

Hou sche that noble worthi kniht

Be eny weie mihte wedde:

And wel sche wiste, if he ne spedde

Of thing which he hadde undertake,

Sche mihte hirself no porpos take;

For if he deide of his bataile,

Sche moste thanne algate faile 3430

To geten him, whan he were ded.

Thus sche began to sette red

And torne aboute hir wittes alle,

To loke hou that it mihte falle

That sche with him hadde a leisir

To speke and telle of hir desir.

And so it fell that same day

That Jason with that suete may

Togedre sete and hadden space

To speke, and he besoughte hir grace. 3440

And sche his tale goodli herde,

And afterward sche him ansuerde

And seide, “Jason, as thou wilt,

Thou miht be sauf, thou miht be spilt;

For wite wel that nevere man,

Bot if he couthe that I can,

Ne mihte that fortune achieve

For which thou comst: bot as I lieve,

If thou wolt holde covenant

To love, of al the remenant 3450

I schal thi lif and honour save,

That thou the flees of gold schalt have.”

He seide, “Al at youre oghne wille,

Ma dame, I schal treuly fulfille

Youre heste, whil mi lif mai laste.”

Thus longe he preide, and ate laste

Sche granteth, and behihte him this,

That whan nyht comth and it time is,

Sche wolde him sende certeinly

Such on that scholde him prively 3460

Al one into hire chambre bringe.

He thonketh hire of that tidinge,

For of that grace him is begonne

Him thenkth alle othre thinges wonne.

The dai made ende and lost his lyht,

And comen was the derke nyht,

Which al the daies yhe blente.

Jason tok leve and forth he wente,

And whan he cam out of the pres,

He tok to conseil Hercules, 3470

And tolde him hou it was betid,

And preide it scholde wel ben hid,

And that he wolde loke aboute,

Therwhiles that he schal ben oute.

Thus as he stod and hiede nam,

A Mayden fro Medea cam

And to hir chambre Jason ledde,

Wher that he fond redi to bedde

The faireste and the wiseste eke;

And sche with simple chiere and meke, 3480

Whan sche him sih, wax al aschamed.

Tho was here tale newe entamed;

For sikernesse of Mariage

Sche fette forth a riche ymage,

Which was figure of Jupiter,

And Jason swor and seide ther,

That also wiss god scholde him helpe,

That if Medea dede him helpe,

That he his pourpos myhte winne,

Thei scholde nevere parte atwinne, 3490

Bot evere whil him lasteth lif,

He wolde hire holde for his wif.

And with that word thei kisten bothe;

And for thei scholden hem unclothe,

Ther cam a Maide, and in hir wise

Sche dede hem bothe full servise,

Til that thei were in bedde naked:

I wot that nyht was wel bewaked,

Thei hadden bothe what thei wolde.

And thanne of leisir sche him tolde, 3500

And gan fro point to point enforme

Of his bataile and al the forme,

Which as he scholde finde there,

Whan he to thyle come were.

Sche seide, at entre of the pas

Hou Mars, which god of Armes was,

Hath set tuo Oxen sterne and stoute,

That caste fyr and flamme aboute

Bothe at the mouth and ate nase,

So that thei setten al on blase 3510

What thing that passeth hem betwene:

And forthermore upon the grene

Ther goth the flees of gold to kepe

A Serpent, which mai nevere slepe.

Thus who that evere scholde it winne,

The fyr to stoppe he mot beginne,

Which that the fierce bestes caste,

And daunte he mot hem ate laste,

So that he mai hem yoke and dryve;

And therupon he mot as blyve 3520

The Serpent with such strengthe assaile,

That he mai slen him be bataile;

Of which he mot the teth outdrawe,

As it belongeth to that lawe,

And thanne he mot tho Oxen yoke,

Til thei have with a plowh tobroke

A furgh of lond, in which arowe

The teth of thaddre he moste sowe,

And therof schule arise knihtes

Wel armed up at alle rihtes. 3530

Of hem is noght to taken hiede,

For ech of hem in hastihiede

Schal other slen with dethes wounde:

And thus whan thei ben leid to grounde,

Than mot he to the goddes preie,

And go so forth and take his preie.

Bot if he faile in eny wise

Of that ye hiere me devise,

Ther mai be set non other weie,

That he ne moste algates deie. 3540

“Nou have I told the peril al:

I woll you tellen forth withal,”

Quod Medea to Jason tho,

“That ye schul knowen er ye go,

Ayein the venym and the fyr

What schal ben the recoverir.

Bot, Sire, for it is nyh day,

Ariseth up, so that I may

Delivere you what thing I have,

That mai youre lif and honour save.” 3550

Thei weren bothe loth to rise,

Bot for thei weren bothe wise,

Up thei arisen ate laste:

Jason his clothes on him caste

And made him redi riht anon,

And sche hir scherte dede upon

And caste on hire a mantel clos,

Withoute more and thanne aros.

Tho tok sche forth a riche Tye

Mad al of gold and of Perrie, 3560

Out of the which sche nam a Ring,

The Ston was worth al other thing.

Sche seide, whil he wolde it were,

Ther myhte no peril him dere,

In water mai it noght be dreynt,

Wher as it comth the fyr is queynt,

It daunteth ek the cruel beste,

Ther may no qued that man areste,

Wher so he be on See or lond,

Which hath that ring upon his hond: 3570

And over that sche gan to sein,

That if a man wol ben unsein,

Withinne his hond hold clos the Ston,

And he mai invisible gon.

The Ring to Jason sche betauhte,

And so forth after sche him tauhte

What sacrifise he scholde make;

And gan out of hire cofre take

Him thoughte an hevenely figure,

Which al be charme and be conjure 3580

Was wroght, and ek it was thurgh write

With names, which he scholde wite,

As sche him tauhte tho to rede;

And bad him, as he wolde spede,

Withoute reste of eny while,

Whan he were londed in that yle,

He scholde make his sacrifise

And rede his carecte in the wise

As sche him tauhte, on knes doun bent,

Thre sithes toward orient; 3590

For so scholde he the goddes plese

And winne himselven mochel ese.

And whanne he hadde it thries rad,

To opne a buiste sche him bad,

Which sche ther tok him in present,

And was full of such oignement,

That ther was fyr ne venym non

That scholde fastnen him upon,

Whan that he were enoynt withal.

Forthi sche tauhte him hou he schal 3600

Enoignte his armes al aboute,

And for he scholde nothing doute,

Sche tok him thanne a maner glu,

The which was of so gret vertu,

That where a man it wolde caste,

It scholde binde anon so faste

That noman mihte it don aweie.

And that sche bad be alle weie

He scholde into the mouthes throwen

Of tho tweie Oxen that fyr blowen, 3610

Therof to stoppen the malice;

The glu schal serve of that office.

And over that hir oignement,

Hir Ring and hir enchantement

Ayein the Serpent scholde him were,

Til he him sle with swerd or spere:

And thanne he may saufliche ynowh

His Oxen yoke into the plowh

And the teth sowe in such a wise,

Til he the knyhtes se arise, 3620

And ech of other doun be leid

In such manere as I have seid.

Lo, thus Medea for Jason

Ordeigneth, and preith therupon

That he nothing foryete scholde,

And ek sche preith him that he wolde,

Whan he hath alle his Armes don,

To grounde knele and thonke anon

The goddes, and so forth be ese

The flees of gold he scholde sese. 3630

And whanne he hadde it sesed so,

That thanne he were sone ago

Withouten eny tariynge.

Whan this was seid, into wepinge

Sche fell, as sche that was thurgh nome

With love, and so fer overcome,

That al hir world on him sche sette.

Bot whan sche sih ther was no lette,

That he mot nedes parte hire fro,

Sche tok him in hire armes tuo, 3640

An hundred time and gan him kisse,

And seide, “O, al mi worldes blisse,

Mi trust, mi lust, mi lif, min hele,

To be thin helpe in this querele

I preie unto the goddes alle.”

And with that word sche gan doun falle

On swoune, and he hire uppe nam,

And forth with that the Maiden cam,

And thei to bedde anon hir broghte,

And thanne Jason hire besoghte, 3650

And to hire seide in this manere:

“Mi worthi lusti ladi dere,

Conforteth you, for be my trouthe

It schal noght fallen in mi slouthe

That I ne wol thurghout fulfille

Youre hestes at youre oghne wille.

And yit I hope to you bringe

Withinne a while such tidinge,

The which schal make ous bothe game.”

Bot for he wolde kepe hir name, 3660

Whan that he wiste it was nyh dai,

He seide, “A dieu, mi swete mai.”

And forth with him he nam his gere,

Which as sche hadde take him there,

And strauht unto his chambre he wente,

And goth to bedde and slep him hente,

And lay, that noman him awok,

For Hercules hiede of him tok,

Til it was undren hih and more.

And thanne he gan to sighe sore 3670

And sodeinliche abreide of slep;

And thei that token of him kep,

His chamberleins, be sone there,

And maden redi al his gere,

And he aros and to the king

He wente, and seide hou to that thing

For which he cam he wolde go.

The king therof was wonder wo,

And for he wolde him fain withdrawe,

He tolde him many a dredful sawe, 3680

Bot Jason wolde it noght recorde,

And ate laste thei acorde.

Whan that he wolde noght abide,

A Bot was redy ate tyde,

In which this worthi kniht of Grece

Ful armed up at every piece,

To his bataile which belongeth,

Tok ore on honde and sore him longeth,

Til he the water passed were.

Whan he cam to that yle there, 3690

He set him on his knes doun strauht,

And his carecte, as he was tawht,

He radde, and made his sacrifise,

And siththe enoignte him in that wise,

As Medea him hadde bede;

And thanne aros up fro that stede,

And with the glu the fyr he queynte,

And anon after he atteinte

The grete Serpent and him slowh.

Bot erst he hadde sorwe ynowh, 3700

For that Serpent made him travaile

So harde and sore of his bataile,

That nou he stod and nou he fell:

For longe time it so befell,

That with his swerd ne with his spere

He mihte noght that Serpent dere.

He was so scherded al aboute,

It hield all eggetol withoute,

He was so ruide and hard of skin,

Ther mihte nothing go therin; 3710

Venym and fyr togedre he caste,

That he Jason so sore ablaste,

That if ne were his oignement,

His Ring and his enchantement,

Which Medea tok him tofore,

He hadde with that worm be lore;

Bot of vertu which therof cam

Jason the Dragon overcam.

And he anon the teth outdrouh,

And sette his Oxen in a plouh, 3720

With which he brak a piece of lond

And sieu hem with his oghne hond.

Tho mihte he gret merveile se:

Of every toth in his degre

Sprong up a kniht with spere and schield,

Of whiche anon riht in the field

Echon slow other; and with that

Jason Medea noght foryat,

On bothe his knes he gan doun falle,

And yaf thonk to the goddes alle. 3730

The Flees he tok and goth to Bote,

The Sonne schyneth bryhte and hote,

The Flees of gold schon forth withal,

The water glistreth overal.

Medea wepte and sigheth ofte,

And stod upon a Tour alofte:

Al prively withinne hirselve,

Ther herde it nouther ten ne tuelve,

Sche preide, and seide, “O, god him spede,

The kniht which hath mi maidenhiede!” 3740

And ay sche loketh toward thyle.

Bot whan sche sih withinne a while

The Flees glistrende ayein the Sonne,

Sche saide, “Ha, lord, now al is wonne,

Mi kniht the field hath overcome:

Nou wolde god he were come;

Ha lord, that he ne were alonde!”

Bot I dar take this on honde,

If that sche hadde wynges tuo,

Sche wolde have flowe unto him tho 3750

Strawht ther he was into the Bot.

The dai was clier, the Sonne hot,

The Gregeis weren in gret doute,

The whyle that here lord was oute:

Thei wisten noght what scholde tyde,

Bot waiten evere upon the tyde,

To se what ende scholde falle.

Ther stoden ek the nobles alle

Forth with the comun of the toun;

And as thei loken up and doun, 3760

Thei weren war withinne a throwe,

Wher cam the bot, which thei wel knowe,

And sihe hou Jason broghte his preie.

And tho thei gonnen alle seie,

And criden alle with o stevene,

“Ha, wher was evere under the hevene

So noble a knyht as Jason is?”

And welnyh alle seiden this,

That Jason was a faie kniht,

For it was nevere of mannes miht 3770

The Flees of gold so forto winne;

And thus to talen thei beginne.

With that the king com forth anon,

And sih the Flees, hou that it schon;

And whan Jason cam to the lond,

The king himselve tok his hond

And kist him, and gret joie him made.

The Gregeis weren wonder glade,

And of that thing riht merie hem thoghte,

And forth with hem the Flees thei broghte, 3780

And ech on other gan to leyhe;

Bot wel was him that mihte neyhe,

To se therof the proprete.

And thus thei passen the cite

And gon unto the Paleis straght.

Medea, which foryat him naght,

Was redy there, and seide anon,

“Welcome, O worthi kniht Jason.”

Sche wolde have kist him wonder fayn,

Bot schame tornede hire agayn; 3790

It was noght the manere as tho,

Forthi sche dorste noght do so.

Sche tok hire leve, and Jason wente

Into his chambre, and sche him sente

Hire Maide to sen hou he ferde;

The which whan that sche sih and herde,

Hou that he hadde faren oute

And that it stod wel al aboute,

Sche tolde hire ladi what sche wiste,

And sche for joie hire Maide kiste. 3800

The bathes weren thanne araied,

With herbes tempred and assaied,

And Jason was unarmed sone

And dede as it befell to done:

Into his bath he wente anon

And wyssh him clene as eny bon;

He tok a sopp, and oute he cam,

And on his beste aray he nam,

And kempde his hed, whan he was clad,

And goth him forth al merie and glad 3810

Riht strawht into the kinges halle.

The king cam with his knihtes alle

And maden him glad welcominge;

And he hem tolde the tidinge

Of this and that, hou it befell,

Whan that he wan the schepes fell.

Medea, whan sche was asent,

Com sone to that parlement,

And whan sche mihte Jason se,

Was non so glad of alle as sche. 3820

Ther was no joie forto seche,

Of him mad every man a speche,

Som man seide on, som man seide other;

Bot thogh he were goddes brother

And mihte make fyr and thonder,

Ther mihte be nomore wonder

Than was of him in that cite.

Echon tauhte other, “This is he,

Which hath in his pouer withinne

That al the world ne mihte winne: 3830

Lo, hier the beste of alle goode.”

Thus saiden thei that there stode,

And ek that walkede up and doun,

Bothe of the Court and of the toun.

The time of Souper cam anon,

Thei wisshen and therto thei gon,

Medea was with Jason set:

Tho was ther many a deynte fet

And set tofore hem on the bord,

Bot non so likinge as the word 3840

Which was ther spoke among hem tuo,

So as thei dorste speke tho.

Bot thogh thei hadden litel space,

Yit thei acorden in that place

Hou Jason scholde come at nyht,

Whan every torche and every liht

Were oute, and thanne of other thinges

Thei spieke aloud for supposinges

Of hem that stoden there aboute:

For love is everemore in doute, 3850

If that it be wisly governed

Of hem that ben of love lerned.

Whan al was don, that dissh and cuppe

And cloth and bord and al was uppe,

Thei waken whil hem lest to wake,

And after that thei leve take

And gon to bedde forto reste.

And whan him thoghte for the beste,

That every man was faste aslepe,

Jason, that wolde his time kepe, 3860

Goth forth stalkende al prively

Unto the chambre, and redely

Ther was a Maide, which him kepte.

Medea wok and nothing slepte,

Bot natheles sche was abedde,

And he with alle haste him spedde

And made him naked and al warm.

Anon he tok hire in his arm:

What nede is forto speke of ese?

Hem list ech other forto plese, 3870

So that thei hadden joie ynow:

And tho thei setten whanne and how

That sche with him awey schal stele.

With wordes suche and othre fele

Whan al was treted to an ende,

Jason tok leve and gan forth wende

Unto his oughne chambre in pes;

Ther wiste it non bot Hercules.

He slepte and ros whan it was time,

And whanne it fell towardes prime, 3880

He tok to him suche as he triste

In secre, that non other wiste,

And told hem of his conseil there,

And seide that his wille were

That thei to Schipe hadde alle thinge

So priveliche in thevenynge,

That noman mihte here dede aspie

Bot tho that were of compaignie:

For he woll go withoute leve,

And lengere woll he noght beleve; 3890

Bot he ne wolde at thilke throwe

The king or queene scholde it knowe.

Thei saide, “Al this schal wel be do:”

And Jason truste wel therto.

Medea in the mene while,

Which thoghte hir fader to beguile,

The Tresor which hir fader hadde

With hire al priveli sche ladde,

And with Jason at time set

Awey sche stal and fond no let, 3900

And straght sche goth hire unto schipe

Of Grece with that felaschipe,

And thei anon drowe up the Seil.

And al that nyht this was conseil,

Bot erly, whan the Sonne schon,

Men syhe hou that thei were agon,

And come unto the king and tolde:

And he the sothe knowe wolde,

And axeth where his dowhter was.

Ther was no word bot Out, Allas! 3910

Sche was ago. The moder wepte,

The fader as a wod man lepte,

And gan the time forto warie,

And swor his oth he wol noght tarie,

That with Caliphe and with galeie

The same cours, the same weie,

Which Jason tok, he wolde take,

If that he mihte him overtake.

To this thei seiden alle yee:

Anon thei weren ate See, 3920

And alle, as who seith, at a word

Thei gon withinne schipes bord,

The Sail goth up, and forth thei strauhte.

Bot non espleit therof thei cauhte,

And so thei tornen hom ayein,

For al that labour was in vein.

Jason to Grece with his preie

Goth thurgh the See the rihte weie:

Whan he ther com and men it tolde,

Thei maden joie yonge and olde. 3930

Eson, whan that he wiste of this,

Hou that his Sone comen is,

And hath achieved that he soughte

And hom with him Medea broughte,

In al the wyde world was non

So glad a man as he was on.

Togedre ben these lovers tho,

Til that thei hadden sones tuo,

Wherof thei weren bothe glade,

And olde Eson gret joie made 3940

To sen thencress of his lignage;

For he was of so gret an Age,

That men awaiten every day,

Whan that he scholde gon away.

Jason, which sih his fader old,

Upon Medea made him bold,

Of art magique, which sche couthe,

And preith hire that his fader youthe

Sche wolde make ayeinward newe:

And sche, that was toward him trewe, 3950

Behihte him that sche wolde it do,

Whan that sche time sawh therto.

Bot what sche dede in that matiere

It is a wonder thing to hiere,

Bot yit for the novellerie

I thenke tellen a partie.

Thus it befell upon a nyht,

Whan ther was noght bot sterreliht,

Sche was vanyssht riht as hir liste,

That no wyht bot hirself it wiste, 3960

And that was ate mydnyht tyde.

The world was stille on every side;

With open hed and fot al bare,

Hir her tosprad sche gan to fare,

Upon hir clothes gert sche was,

Al specheles and on the gras

Sche glod forth as an Addre doth:

Non otherwise sche ne goth,

Til sche cam to the freisshe flod,

And there a while sche withstod. 3970

Thries sche torned hire aboute,

And thries ek sche gan doun loute

And in the flod sche wette hir her,

And thries on the water ther

Sche gaspeth with a drecchinge onde,

And tho sche tok hir speche on honde.

Ferst sche began to clepe and calle

Upward unto the sterres alle,

To Wynd, to Air, to See, to lond

Sche preide, and ek hield up hir hond 3980

To Echates, and gan to crie,

Which is goddesse of Sorcerie.

Sche seide, “Helpeth at this nede,

And as ye maden me to spede,

Whan Jason cam the Flees to seche,

So help me nou, I you beseche.”

With that sche loketh and was war,

Doun fro the Sky ther cam a char,

The which Dragouns aboute drowe:

And tho sche gan hir hed doun bowe, 3990

And up sche styh, and faire and wel

Sche drof forth bothe char and whel

Above in thair among the Skyes.

The lond of Crete and tho parties

Sche soughte, and faste gan hire hye,

And there upon the hulles hyhe

Of Othrin and Olimpe also,

And ek of othre hulles mo,

Sche fond and gadreth herbes suote,

Sche pulleth up som be the rote, 4000

And manye with a knyf sche scherth,

And alle into hir char sche berth.

Thus whan sche hath the hulles sought,

The flodes ther foryat sche nought,

Eridian and Amphrisos,

Peneie and ek Spercheïdos,

To hem sche wente and ther sche nom

Bothe of the water and the fom,

The sond and ek the smale stones,

Whiche as sche ches out for the nones, 4010

And of the rede See a part,

That was behovelich to hire art,

Sche tok, and after that aboute

Sche soughte sondri sedes oute

In feldes and in many greves,

And ek a part sche tok of leves:

Bot thing which mihte hire most availe

Sche fond in Crete and in Thessaile.

In daies and in nyhtes Nyne,

With gret travaile and with gret pyne, 4020

Sche was pourveid of every piece,

And torneth homward into Grece.

Before the gates of Eson

Hir char sche let awai to gon,

And tok out ferst that was therinne;

For tho sche thoghte to beginne

Such thing as semeth impossible,

And made hirselven invisible,

As sche that was with Air enclosed

And mihte of noman be desclosed. 4030

Sche tok up turves of the lond

Withoute helpe of mannes hond,

Al heled with the grene gras,

Of which an Alter mad ther was

Unto Echates the goddesse

Of art magique and the maistresse,

And eft an other to Juvente,

As sche which dede hir hole entente.

Tho tok sche fieldwode and verveyne,

Of herbes ben noght betre tueine, 4040

Of which anon withoute let

These alters ben aboute set:

Tuo sondri puttes faste by

Sche made, and with that hastely

A wether which was blak sche slouh,

And out therof the blod sche drouh

And dede into the pettes tuo;

Warm melk sche putte also therto

With hony meynd: and in such wise

Sche gan to make hir sacrifice, 4050

And cride and preide forth withal

To Pluto the god infernal,

And to the queene Proserpine.

And so sche soghte out al the line

Of hem that longen to that craft,

Behinde was no name laft,

And preide hem alle, as sche wel couthe,

To grante Eson his ferste youthe.

This olde Eson broght forth was tho,

Awei sche bad alle othre go 4060

Upon peril that mihte falle;

And with that word thei wenten alle,

And leften there hem tuo al one.

And tho sche gan to gaspe and gone,

And made signes manyon,

And seide hir wordes therupon;

So that with spellinge of hir charmes

Sche tok Eson in bothe hire armes,

And made him forto slepe faste,

And him upon hire herbes caste. 4070

The blake wether tho sche tok,

And hiewh the fleissh, as doth a cok;

On either alter part sche leide,

And with the charmes that sche seide

A fyr doun fro the Sky alyhte

And made it forto brenne lyhte.

Bot whan Medea sawh it brenne,

Anon sche gan to sterte and renne

The fyri aulters al aboute:

Ther was no beste which goth oute 4080

More wylde than sche semeth ther:

Aboute hir schuldres hyng hir her,

As thogh sche were oute of hir mynde

And torned in an other kynde.

Tho lay ther certein wode cleft,

Of which the pieces nou and eft

Sche made hem in the pettes wete,

And put hem in the fyri hete,

And tok the brond with al the blase,

And thries sche began to rase 4090

Aboute Eson, ther as he slepte;

And eft with water, which sche kepte,

Sche made a cercle aboute him thries,

And eft with fyr of sulphre twyes:

Ful many an other thing sche dede,

Which is noght writen in this stede.

Bot tho sche ran so up and doun,

Sche made many a wonder soun,

Somtime lich unto the cock,

Somtime unto the Laverock, 4100

Somtime kacleth as a Hen,

Somtime spekth as don the men:

And riht so as hir jargoun strangeth,

In sondri wise hir forme changeth,

Sche semeth faie and no womman;

For with the craftes that sche can

Sche was, as who seith, a goddesse,

And what hir liste, more or lesse,

Sche dede, in bokes as we finde,

That passeth over manneskinde. 4110

Bot who that wole of wondres hiere,

What thing sche wroghte in this matiere,

To make an ende of that sche gan,

Such merveile herde nevere man.

Apointed in the newe Mone,

Whan it was time forto done,

Sche sette a caldron on the fyr,

In which was al the hole atir,

Wheron the medicine stod,

Of jus, of water and of blod, 4120

And let it buile in such a plit,

Til that sche sawh the spume whyt;

And tho sche caste in rynde and rote,

And sed and flour that was for bote,

With many an herbe and many a ston,

Wherof sche hath ther many on:

And ek Cimpheius the Serpent

To hire hath alle his scales lent,

Chelidre hire yaf his addres skin,

And sche to builen caste hem in; 4130

A part ek of the horned Oule,

The which men hiere on nyhtes houle;

And of a Raven, which was told

Of nyne hundred wynter old,

Sche tok the hed with al the bile;

And as the medicine it wile,

Sche tok therafter the bouele

Of the Seewolf, and for the hele

Of Eson, with a thousand mo

Of thinges that sche hadde tho, 4140

In that Caldroun togedre as blyve

Sche putte, and tok thanne of Olyve

A drie branche hem with to stere,

The which anon gan floure and bere

And waxe al freissh and grene ayein.

Whan sche this vertu hadde sein,

Sche let the leste drope of alle

Upon the bare flor doun falle;

Anon ther sprong up flour and gras,

Where as the drope falle was, 4150

And wox anon al medwe grene,

So that it mihte wel be sene.

Medea thanne knew and wiste

Hir medicine is forto triste,

And goth to Eson ther he lay,

And tok a swerd was of assay,

With which a wounde upon his side

Sche made, that therout mai slyde

The blod withinne, which was old

And sek and trouble and fieble and cold. 4160

And tho sche tok unto his us

Of herbes al the beste jus,

And poured it into his wounde;

That made his veynes fulle and sounde:

And tho sche made his wounde clos,

And tok his hond, and up he ros;

And tho sche yaf him drinke a drauhte,

Of which his youthe ayein he cauhte,

His hed, his herte and his visage

Lich unto twenty wynter Age; 4170

Hise hore heres were away,

And lich unto the freisshe Maii,

Whan passed ben the colde shoures,

Riht so recovereth he his floures.

Lo, what mihte eny man devise,

A womman schewe in eny wise

Mor hertly love in every stede,

Than Medea to Jason dede?

Ferst sche made him the flees to winne,

And after that fro kiththe and kinne 4180

With gret tresor with him sche stal,

And to his fader forth withal

His Elde hath torned into youthe,

Which thing non other womman couthe:

Bot hou it was to hire aquit,

The remembrance duelleth yit.

King Peleüs his Em was ded,

Jason bar corone on his hed,

Medea hath fulfild his wille:

Bot whanne he scholde of riht fulfille 4190

The trouthe, which to hire afore

He hadde in thyle of Colchos swore,

Tho was Medea most deceived.

For he an other hath received,

Which dowhter was to king Creon,

Creusa sche hihte, and thus Jason,

As he that was to love untrewe,

Medea lefte and tok a newe.

Bot that was after sone aboght:

Medea with hire art hath wroght 4200

Of cloth of gold a mantel riche,

Which semeth worth a kingesriche,

And that was unto Creusa sent

In name of yifte and of present,

For Sosterhode hem was betuene;

And whan that yonge freisshe queene

That mantel lappeth hire aboute,

Anon therof the fyr sprong oute

And brente hir bothe fleissh and bon.

Tho cam Medea to Jason 4210

With bothe his Sones on hire hond,

And seide, “O thou of every lond

The moste untrewe creature,

Lo, this schal be thi forfeture.”

With that sche bothe his Sones slouh

Before his yhe, and he outdrouh

His swerd and wold have slayn hir tho,

Bot farewel, sche was ago

Unto Pallas the Court above,

Wher as sche pleigneth upon love, 4220

As sche that was with that goddesse,

And he was left in gret destresse.

Thus miht thou se what sorwe it doth

To swere an oth which is noght soth,

In loves cause namely.

Mi Sone, be wel war forthi,

And kep that thou be noght forswore:

For this, which I have told tofore,

Ovide telleth everydel.

Mi fader, I may lieve it wel, 4230

For I have herde it ofte seie

Hou Jason tok the flees aweie

Fro Colchos, bot yit herde I noght

Be whom it was ferst thider broght.

And for it were good to hiere,

If that you liste at mi preiere

To telle, I wolde you beseche.

Mi Sone, who that wole it seche,

In bokes he mai finde it write;

And natheles, if thou wolt wite, 4240

In the manere as thou hast preid

I schal the telle hou it is seid.

The fame of thilke schepes fell,

Which in Colchos, as it befell,

Was al of gold, schal nevere deie;

Wherof I thenke for to seie

Hou it cam ferst into that yle.

Ther was a king in thilke whyle

Towardes Grece, and Athemas

The Cronique of his name was; 4250

And hadde a wif, which Philen hihte,

Be whom, so as fortune it dihte,

He hadde of children yonge tuo.

Frixus the ferste was of tho,

A knave child, riht fair withalle;

A dowhter ek, the which men calle

Hellen, he hadde be this wif.

Bot for ther mai no mannes lif

Endure upon this Erthe hiere,

This worthi queene, as thou miht hiere, 4260

Er that the children were of age,

Tok of hire ende the passage,

With gret worschipe and was begrave.

What thing it liketh god to have

It is gret reson to ben his;

Forthi this king, so as it is,

With gret suffrance it underfongeth:

And afterward, as him belongeth,

Whan it was time forto wedde,

A newe wif he tok to bedde, 4270

Which Yno hihte and was a Mayde,

And ek the dowhter, as men saide,

Of Cadme, which a king also

Was holde in thilke daies tho.

Whan Yno was the kinges make,

Sche caste hou that sche mihte make

These children to here fader lothe,

And schope a wyle ayein hem bothe,

Which to the king was al unknowe.

A yeer or tuo sche let do sowe 4280

The lond with sode whete aboute,

Wherof no corn mai springen oute;

And thus be sleyhte and be covine

Aros the derthe and the famine

Thurghout the lond in such a wise,

So that the king a sacrifise

Upon the point of this destresse

To Ceres, which is the goddesse

Of corn, hath schape him forto yive,

To loke if it mai be foryive, 4290

The meschief which was in his lond.

Bot sche, which knew tofor the hond

The circumstance of al this thing,

Ayein the cominge of the king

Into the temple, hath schape so,

Of hire acord that alle tho

Whiche of the temple prestes were

Have seid and full declared there

Unto the king, bot if so be

That he delivere the contre 4300

Of Frixus and of Hellen bothe,

With whom the goddes ben so wrothe,

That whil tho children ben therinne,

Such tilthe schal noman beginne,

Wherof to gete him eny corn.

Thus was it seid, thus was it sworn

Of all the Prestes that ther are;

And sche which causeth al this fare

Seid ek therto what that sche wolde,

And every man thanne after tolde 4310

So as the queene hem hadde preid.

The king, which hath his Ere leid,

And lieveth al that evere he herde,

Unto here tale thus ansuerde,

And seith that levere him is to chese

Hise children bothe forto lese,

Than him and al the remenant

Of hem whiche are aportenant

Unto the lond which he schal kepe:

And bad his wif to take kepe 4320

In what manere is best to done,

That thei delivered weren sone

Out of this world. And sche anon

Tuo men ordeigneth forto gon;

Bot ferst sche made hem forto swere

That thei the children scholden bere

Unto the See, that non it knowe,

And hem therinne bothe throwe.

The children to the See ben lad,

Wher in the wise as Yno bad 4330

These men be redy forto do.

Bot the goddesse which Juno

Is hote, appiereth in the stede,

And hath unto the men forbede

That thei the children noght ne sle;

Bot bad hem loke into the See

And taken hiede of that thei sihen.

Ther swam a Schep tofore here yhen,

Whos flees of burned gold was al;

And this goddesse forth withal 4340

Comandeth that withoute lette

Thei scholde anon these children sette

Above upon this Schepes bak;

And al was do, riht as sche spak,

Wherof the men gon hom ayein.

And fell so, as the bokes sein,

Hellen the yonge Mayden tho,

Which of the See was wo bego,

For pure drede hire herte hath lore,

That fro the Schep, which hath hire bore, 4350

As sche that was swounende feint,

Sche fell, and hath hirselve dreint;

With Frixus and this Schep forth swam,

Til he to thyle of Colchos cam,

Where Juno the goddesse he fond,

Which tok the Schep unto the lond,

And sette it there in such a wise

As thou tofore hast herd devise,

Wherof cam after al the wo,

Why Jason was forswore so 4360

Unto Medee, as it is spoke.

Mi fader, who that hath tobroke

His trouthe, as ye have told above,

He is noght worthi forto love

Ne be beloved, as me semeth:

Bot every newe love quemeth

To him which newefongel is.

And natheles nou after this,

If that you list to taken hiede

Upon mi Schrifte to procede, 4370

In loves cause ayein the vice

Of covoitise and Avarice

What ther is more I wolde wite.

Mi Sone, this I finde write,

Ther is yit on of thilke brood,

Which only for the worldes good,

To make a Tresor of Moneie,

Put alle conscience aweie:

Wherof in thi confession

The name and the condicion 4380

I schal hierafterward declare,

Which makth on riche, an other bare.

Upon the bench sittende on hih

With Avarice Usure I sih,

Full clothed of his oghne suite,

Which after gold makth chace and suite

With his brocours, that renne aboute

Lich unto racches in a route.

Such lucre is non above grounde,

Which is noght of tho racches founde; 4390

For wher thei se beyete sterte,

That schal hem in no wise asterte,

Bot thei it dryve into the net

Of lucre, which Usure hath set.

Usure with the riche duelleth,

To al that evere he beith and selleth

He hath ordeined of his sleyhte

Mesure double and double weyhte:

Outward he selleth be the lasse,

And with the more he makth his tasse, 4400

Wherof his hous is full withinne.

He reccheth noght, be so he winne,

Though that ther lese ten or tuelve:

His love is al toward himselve

And to non other, bot he se

That he mai winne suche thre;

For wher he schal oght yive or lene,

He wol ayeinward take a bene,

Ther he hath lent the smale pese.

And riht so ther ben manye of these 4410

Lovers, that thogh thei love a lyte,

That scarsly wolde it weie a myte,

Yit wolde thei have a pound again,

As doth Usure in his bargain.

Bot certes such usure unliche,

It falleth more unto the riche,

Als wel of love as of beyete,

Than unto hem that be noght grete,

And, as who seith, ben simple and povere;

For sielden is whan thei recovere, 4420

Bot if it be thurgh gret decerte.

And natheles men se poverte

With porsuite and continuance

Fulofte make a gret chevance

And take of love his avantage,

Forth with the help of his brocage,

That maken seme wher is noght.

And thus fulofte is love boght

For litel what, and mochel take,

With false weyhtes that thei make. 4430

Nou, Sone, of that I seide above

Thou wost what Usure is of love:

Tell me forthi what so thou wilt,

If thou therof hast eny gilt.

Mi fader, nay, for ought I hiere.

For of tho pointz ye tolden hiere

I wol you be mi trouthe assure,

Mi weyhte of love and mi mesure

Hath be mor large and mor certein

Than evere I tok of love ayein: 4440

For so yit couthe I nevere of sleyhte,

To take ayein be double weyhte

Of love mor than I have yive.

For als so wiss mot I be schrive

And have remission of Sinne,

As so yit couthe I nevere winne,

Ne yit so mochel, soth to sein,

That evere I mihte have half ayein

Of so full love as I have lent:

And if myn happ were so wel went, 4450

That for the hole I mihte have half,

Me thenkth I were a goddeshalf.

For where Usure wole have double,

Mi conscience is noght so trouble,

I biede nevere as to my del

Bot of the hole an halvendel;

That is non excess, as me thenketh.

Bot natheles it me forthenketh;

For wel I wot that wol noght be,

For every day the betre I se 4460

That hou so evere I yive or lene

Mi love in place ther I mene,

For oght that evere I axe or crave,

I can nothing ayeinward have.

Bot yit for that I wol noght lete,

What so befalle of mi beyete,

That I ne schal hire yive and lene

Mi love and al mi thoght so clene,

That toward me schal noght beleve.

And if sche of hire goode leve 4470

Rewarde wol me noght again,

I wot the laste of my bargain

Schal stonde upon so gret a lost,

That I mai neveremor the cost

Recovere in this world til I die.

So that touchende of this partie

I mai me wel excuse and schal;

And forto speke forth withal,

If eny brocour for me wente,

That point cam nevere in myn entente: 4480

So that the more me merveilleth,

What thing it is mi ladi eilleth,

That al myn herte and al my time

Sche hath, and doth no betre bime.

I have herd seid that thoght is fre,

And natheles in privete

To you, mi fader, that ben hiere

Min hole schrifte forto hiere,

I dar min herte wel desclose.

Touchende usure, as I suppose, 4490

Which as ye telle in love is used,

Mi ladi mai noght ben excused;

That for o lokinge of hire yë

Min hole herte til I dye

With al that evere I may and can

Sche hath me wonne to hire man:

Wherof, me thenkth, good reson wolde

That sche somdel rewarde scholde,

And yive a part, ther sche hath al.

I not what falle hierafter schal, 4500

Bot into nou yit dar I sein,

Hire liste nevere yive ayein

A goodli word in such a wise,

Wherof min hope mihte arise,

Mi grete love to compense.

I not hou sche hire conscience

Excuse wole of this usure;

Be large weyhte and gret mesure

Sche hath mi love, and I have noght

Of that which I have diere boght, 4510

And with myn herte I have it paid;

Bot al that is asyde laid,

And I go loveles aboute.

Hire oghte stonde if ful gret doute,

Til sche redresce such a sinne,

That sche wole al mi love winne

And yifth me noght to live by:

Noght als so moche as “grant mercy”

Hir list to seie, of which I mihte

Som of mi grete peine allyhte. 4520

Bot of this point, lo, thus I fare

As he that paith for his chaffare,

And beith it diere, and yit hath non,

So mot he nedes povere gon:

Thus beie I diere and have no love,

That I ne mai noght come above

To winne of love non encress.

Bot I me wole natheles

Touchende usure of love aquite;

And if mi ladi be to wyte, 4530

I preie to god such grace hir sende

That sche be time it mot amende.

Mi Sone, of that thou hast ansuerd

Touchende Usure I have al herd,

Hou thou of love hast wonne smale:

Bot that thou tellest in thi tale

And thi ladi therof accusest,

Me thenkth tho wordes thou misusest.

For be thin oghne knowlechinge

Thou seist hou sche for o lokinge 4540

Thin hole herte fro the tok:

Sche mai be such, that hire o lok

Is worth thin herte manyfold;

So hast thou wel thin herte sold,

Whan thou hast that is more worth.

And ek of that thou tellest forth,

Hou that hire weyhte of love unevene

Is unto thin, under the hevene

Stod nevere in evene that balance

Which stant in loves governance. 4550

Such is the statut of his lawe,

That thogh thi love more drawe

And peise in the balance more,

Thou miht noght axe ayein therfore

Of duete, bot al of grace.

For love is lord in every place,

Ther mai no lawe him justefie

Be reddour ne be compaignie,

That he ne wole after his wille

Whom that him liketh spede or spille. 4560

To love a man mai wel beginne,

Bot whether he schal lese or winne,

That wot noman til ate laste:

Forthi coveite noght to faste,

Mi Sone, bot abyd thin ende,

Per cas al mai to goode wende.

Bot that thou hast me told and said,

Of o thing I am riht wel paid,

That thou be sleyhte ne be guile

Of no brocour hast otherwhile 4570

Engined love, for such dede

Is sore venged, as I rede.

Brocours of love that deceiven,

No wonder is thogh thei receiven

After the wrong that thei decerven;

For whom as evere that thei serven

And do plesance for a whyle,

Yit ate laste here oghne guile

Upon here oghne hed descendeth,

Which god of his vengance sendeth, 4580

As be ensample of time go

A man mai finde it hath be so.

It fell somtime, as it was sene,

The hihe goddesse and the queene

Juno tho hadde in compainie

A Maiden full of tricherie;

For sche was evere in on acord

With Jupiter, that was hire lord,

To gete him othre loves newe,

Thurgh such brocage and was untrewe 4590

Al otherwise than him nedeth.

Bot sche, which of no schame dredeth,

With queinte wordes and with slyhe

Blente in such wise hir lady yhe,

As sche to whom that Juno triste,

So that therof sche nothing wiste.

Bot so prive mai be nothing,

That it ne comth to knowleching;

Thing don upon the derke nyht

Is after knowe on daies liht: 4600

So it befell, that ate laste

Al that this slyhe maiden caste

Was overcast and overthrowe.

For as the sothe mot be knowe,

To Juno was don understonde

In what manere hir housebonde

With fals brocage hath take usure

Of love mor than his mesure,

Whan he tok othre than his wif,

Wherof this mayden was gultif, 4610

Which hadde ben of his assent.

And thus was al the game schent;

She soffreth him, as sche mot nede,

Bot the brocour of his misdede,

Sche which hir conseil yaf therto,

On hire is the vengance do:

For Juno with hire wordes hote,

This Maiden, which Eccho was hote,

Reproveth and seith in this wise:

“O traiteresse, of which servise 4620

Hast thou thin oghne ladi served!

Thou hast gret peine wel deserved,

That thou canst maken it so queinte,

Thi slyhe wordes forto peinte

Towardes me, that am thi queene,

Wherof thou madest me to wene

That myn housbonde trewe were,

Whan that he loveth elleswhere,

Al be it so him nedeth noght.

Bot upon thee it schal be boght, 4630

Which art prive to tho doinges,

And me fulofte of thi lesinges

Deceived hast: nou is the day

That I thi while aquite may;

And for thou hast to me conceled

That my lord hath with othre deled,

I schal thee sette in such a kende,

That evere unto the worldes ende

Al that thou hierest thou schalt telle,

And clappe it out as doth a belle.” 4640

And with that word sche was forschape,

Ther may no vois hire mouth ascape,

What man that in the wodes crieth,

Withoute faile Eccho replieth,

And what word that him list to sein,

The same word sche seith ayein.

Thus sche, which whilom hadde leve

To duelle in chambre, mot beleve

In wodes and on helles bothe,

For such brocage as wyves lothe, 4650

Which doth here lordes hertes change

And love in other place strange.

Forthi, if evere it so befalle,

That thou, mi Sone, amonges alle

Be wedded man, hold that thou hast,

For thanne al other love is wast.

O wif schal wel to thee suffise,

And thanne, if thou for covoitise

Of love woldest axe more,

Thou scholdest don ayein the lore 4660

Of alle hem that trewe be.

Mi fader, as in this degre

My conscience is noght accused;

For I no such brocage have used,

Wherof that lust of love is wonne.

Forthi spek forth, as ye begonne,

Of Avarice upon mi schrifte.

Mi Sone, I schal the branches schifte

Be ordre so as thei ben set,

On whom no good is wel beset. 4670

Blinde Avarice of his lignage

For conseil and for cousinage,

To be withholde ayein largesse,

Hath on, whos name is seid Skarsnesse,

The which is kepere of his hous,

And is so thurghout averous,

That he no good let out of honde;

Thogh god himself it wolde fonde,

Of yifte scholde he nothing have;

And if a man it wolde crave, 4680

He moste thanne faile nede,

Wher god himselve mai noght spede.

And thus Skarsnesse in every place

Be reson mai no thonk porchace,

And natheles in his degree

Above all othre most prive

With Avarice stant he this.

For he governeth that ther is

In ech astat of his office

After the reule of thilke vice; 4690

He takth, he kepth, he halt, he bint,

That lihtere is to fle the flint

Than gete of him in hard or neisshe

Only the value of a reysshe

Of good in helpinge of an other,

Noght thogh it were his oghne brother.

For in the cas of yifte and lone

Stant every man for him al one,

Him thenkth of his unkindeschipe

That him nedeth no felaschipe: 4700

Be so the bagge and he acorden,

Him reccheth noght what men recorden

Of him, or it be evel or good.

For al his trust is on his good,

So that al one he falleth ofte,

Whan he best weneth stonde alofte,

Als wel in love as other wise;

For love is evere of som reprise

To him that wole his love holde.

Forthi, mi Sone, as thou art holde, 4710

Touchende of this tell me thi schrifte:

Hast thou be scars or large of yifte

Unto thi love, whom thou servest?

For after that thou wel deservest

Of yifte, thou miht be the bet;

For that good holde I wel beset,

For why thou miht the betre fare;

Thanne is no wisdom forto spare.

For thus men sein, in every nede

He was wys that ferst made mede; 4720

For where as mede mai noght spede,

I not what helpeth other dede:

Fulofte he faileth of his game

That wol with ydel hand reclame

His hauk, as many a nyce doth.

Forthi, mi Sone, tell me soth

And sei the trouthe, if thou hast be

Unto thy love or skars or fre.

Mi fader, it hath stonde thus,

That if the tresor of Cresus 4730

And al the gold Octovien,

Forth with the richesse Yndien

Of Perles and of riche stones,

Were al togedre myn at ones,

I sette it at nomore acompte

Than wolde a bare straw amonte,

To yive it hire al in a day,

Be so that to that suete may

I myhte like or more or lesse.

And thus be cause of my scarsnesse 4740

Ye mai wel understonde and lieve

That I schal noght the worse achieve

The pourpos which is in my thoght.

Bot yit I yaf hir nevere noght,

Ne therto dorste a profre make;

For wel I wot sche wol noght take,

And yive wol sche noght also,

Sche is eschu of bothe tuo.

And this I trowe be the skile

Towardes me, for sche ne wile 4750

That I have eny cause of hope,

Noght also mochel as a drope.

Bot toward othre, as I mai se,

Sche takth and yifth in such degre,

That as be weie of frendlihiede

Sche can so kepe hir wommanhiede,

That every man spekth of hir wel.

Bot sche wole take of me no del,

And yit sche wot wel that I wolde

Yive and do bothe what I scholde 4760

To plesen hire in al my myht:

Be reson this wot every wyht,

For that mai be no weie asterte,

Ther sche is maister of the herte,

Sche mot be maister of the good.

For god wot wel that al my mod

And al min herte and al mi thoght

And al mi good, whil I have oght,

Als freliche as god hath it yive,

It schal ben hires, while I live, 4770

Riht as hir list hirself commande.

So that it nedeth no demande,

To axe of me if I be scars

To love, for as to tho pars

I wole ansuere and seie no.

Mi Sone, that is riht wel do.

For often times of scarsnesse

It hath be sen, that for the lesse

Is lost the more, as thou schalt hiere

A tale lich to this matiere. 4780

Skarsnesse and love acorden nevere,

For every thing is wel the levere,

Whan that a man hath boght it diere:

And forto speke in this matiere,

For sparinge of a litel cost

Fulofte time a man hath lost

The large cote for the hod.

What man that scars is of his good

And wol noght yive, he schal noght take:

With yifte a man mai undertake 4790

The hihe god to plese and queme,

With yifte a man the world mai deme;

For every creature bore,

If thou him yive, is glad therfore,

And every gladschipe, as I finde,

Is confort unto loves kinde

And causeth ofte a man to spede.

So was he wys that ferst yaf mede,

For mede kepeth love in house;

Bot wher the men ben coveitouse 4800

And sparen forto yive a part,

Thei knowe noght Cupides art:

For his fortune and his aprise

Desdeigneth alle coveitise

And hateth alle nygardie.

And forto loke of this partie,

A soth ensample, hou it is so,

I finde write of Babio;

Which hadde a love at his menage,

Ther was non fairere of hire age, 4810

And hihte Viola be name;

Which full of youthe and ful of game

Was of hirself, and large and fre,

Bot such an other chinche as he

Men wisten noght in al the lond,

And hadde affaited to his hond

His servant, the which Spodius

Was hote. And in this wise thus

The worldes good of sufficance

Was had, bot likinge and plesance, 4820

Of that belongeth to richesse

Of love, stod in gret destresse;

So that this yonge lusty wyht

Of thing which fell to loves riht

Was evele served overal,

That sche was wo bego withal,

Til that Cupide and Venus eke

A medicine for the seke

Ordeigne wolden in this cas.

So as fortune thanne was, 4830

Of love upon the destine

It fell, riht as it scholde be,

A freissh, a fre, a frendly man

That noght of Avarice can,

Which Croceus be name hihte,

Toward this swete caste his sihte,

And ther sche was cam in presence.

Sche sih him large of his despence,

And amorous and glad of chiere,

So that hir liketh wel to hiere 4840

The goodly wordes whiche he seide;

And therupon of love he preide,

Of love was al that he mente,

To love and for sche scholde assente,

He yaf hire yiftes evere among.

Bot for men sein that mede is strong,

It was wel seene at thilke tyde;

For as it scholde of ryht betyde,

This Viola largesce hath take

And the nygard sche hath forsake: 4850

Of Babio sche wol no more,

For he was grucchende everemore,

Ther was with him non other fare

Bot forto prinche and forto spare,

Of worldes muk to gete encress.

So goth the wrecche loveles,

Bejaped for his Skarcete,

And he that large was and fre

And sette his herte to despende,

This Croceus, the bowe bende, 4860

Which Venus tok him forto holde,

And schotte als ofte as evere he wolde.

Lo, thus departeth love his lawe,

That what man wol noght be felawe

To yive and spende, as I thee telle,

He is noght worthi forto duelle

In loves court to be relieved.

Forthi, my Sone, if I be lieved,

Thou schalt be large of thi despence.

Mi fader, in mi conscience 4870

If ther be eny thing amis,

I wol amende it after this,

Toward mi love namely.

Mi Sone, wel and redely

Thou seist, so that wel paid withal

I am, and forthere if I schal

Unto thi schrifte specefie

Of Avarices progenie

What vice suieth after this,

Thou schalt have wonder hou it is, 4880

Among the folk in eny regne

That such a vice myhte regne,

Which is comun at alle assaies,

As men mai finde nou adaies.

The vice lik unto the fend,

Which nevere yit was mannes frend,

And cleped is Unkindeschipe,

Of covine and of felaschipe

With Avarice he is withholde.

Him thenkth he scholde noght ben holde 4890

Unto the moder which him bar;

Of him mai nevere man be war,

He wol noght knowe the merite,

For that he wolde it noght aquite;

Which in this world is mochel used,

And fewe ben therof excused.

To telle of him is endeles,

Bot this I seie natheles,

Wher as this vice comth to londe,

Ther takth noman his thonk on honde; 4900

Thogh he with alle his myhtes serve,

He schal of him no thonk deserve.

He takth what eny man wol yive,

Bot whil he hath o day to live,

He wol nothing rewarde ayein;

He gruccheth forto yive o grein,

Wher he hath take a berne full.

That makth a kinde herte dull,

To sette his trust in such frendschipe,

Ther as he fint no kindeschipe; 4910

And forto speke wordes pleine,

Thus hiere I many a man compleigne,

That nou on daies thou schalt finde

At nede fewe frendes kinde;

What thou hast don for hem tofore,

It is foryete, as it were lore.

The bokes speken of this vice,

And telle hou god of his justice,

Be weie of kinde and ek nature

And every lifissh creature, 4920

The lawe also, who that it kan,

Thei dampnen an unkinde man.

It is al on to seie unkinde

As thing which don is ayein kinde,

For it with kinde nevere stod

A man to yelden evel for good.

For who that wolde taken hede,

A beste is glad of a good dede,

And loveth thilke creature

After the lawe of his nature 4930

Which doth him ese. And forto se

Of this matiere Auctorite,

Fulofte time it hath befalle;

Wherof a tale amonges alle,

Which is of olde ensamplerie,

I thenke forto specefie.

To speke of an unkinde man,

I finde hou whilom Adrian,

Of Rome which a gret lord was,

Upon a day as he per cas 4940

To wode in his huntinge wente,

It hapneth at a soudein wente,

After his chace as he poursuieth,

Thurgh happ, the which noman eschuieth,

He fell unwar into a pet,

Wher that it mihte noght be let.

The pet was dep and he fell lowe,

That of his men non myhte knowe

Wher he becam, for non was nyh,

Which of his fall the meschief syh. 4950

And thus al one ther he lay

Clepende and criende al the day

For socour and deliverance,

Til ayein Eve it fell per chance,

A while er it began to nyhte,

A povere man, which Bardus hihte,

Cam forth walkende with his asse,

And hadde gadred him a tasse

Of grene stickes and of dreie

To selle, who that wolde hem beie, 4960

As he which hadde no liflode,

Bot whanne he myhte such a lode

To toune with his Asse carie.

And as it fell him forto tarie

That ilke time nyh the pet,

And hath the trusse faste knet,

He herde a vois, which cride dimme,

And he his Ere to the brimme

Hath leid, and herde it was a man,

Which seide, “Ha, help hier Adrian, 4970

And I wol yiven half mi good.”

The povere man this understod,

As he that wolde gladly winne,

And to this lord which was withinne

He spak and seide, “If I thee save,

What sikernesse schal I have

Of covenant, that afterward

Thou wolt me yive such reward

As thou behihtest nou tofore?”

That other hath his othes swore 4980

Be hevene and be the goddes alle,

If that it myhte so befalle

That he out of the pet him broghte,

Of all the goodes whiche he oghte

He schal have evene halvendel.

This Bardus seide he wolde wel;

And with this word his Asse anon

He let untrusse, and therupon

Doun goth the corde into the pet,

To which he hath at ende knet 4990

A staf, wherby, he seide, he wolde

That Adrian him scholde holde.

Bot it was tho per chance falle,

Into that pet was also falle

An Ape, which at thilke throwe,

Whan that the corde cam doun lowe,

Al sodeinli therto he skipte

And it in bothe hise armes clipte.

And Bardus with his Asse anon

Him hath updrawe, and he is gon. 5000

But whan he sih it was an Ape,

He wende al hadde ben a jape

Of faierie, and sore him dradde:

And Adrian eftsone gradde

For help, and cride and preide faste,

And he eftsone his corde caste;

Bot whan it cam unto the grounde,

A gret Serpent it hath bewounde,

The which Bardus anon up drouh.

And thanne him thoghte wel ynouh, 5010

It was fantosme, bot yit he herde

The vois, and he therto ansuerde,

“What wiht art thou in goddes name?”

“I am,” quod Adrian, “the same,

Whos good thou schalt have evene half.”

Quod Bardus, “Thanne a goddes half

The thridde time assaie I schal”:

And caste his corde forth withal

Into the pet, and whan it cam

To him, this lord of Rome it nam, 5020

And therupon him hath adresced,

And with his hand fulofte blessed,

And thanne he bad to Bardus hale.

And he, which understod his tale,

Betwen him and his Asse al softe

Hath drawe and set him up alofte

Withouten harm al esely.

He seith noght ones “grant merci,”

Bot strauhte him forth to the cite,

And let this povere Bardus be. 5030

And natheles this simple man

His covenant, so as he can,

Hath axed; and that other seide,

If so be that he him umbreide

Of oght that hath be speke or do,

It schal ben venged on him so,

That him were betre to be ded.

And he can tho non other red,

But on his asse ayein he caste

His trusse, and hieth homward faste: 5040

And whan that he cam hom to bedde,

He tolde his wif hou that he spedde.

Bot finaly to speke oght more

Unto this lord he dradde him sore,

So that a word ne dorste he sein:

And thus upon the morwe ayein,

In the manere as I recorde,

Forth with his Asse and with his corde

To gadre wode, as he dede er,

He goth; and whan that he cam ner 5050

Unto the place where he wolde,

He hath his Ape anon beholde,

Which hadde gadred al aboute

Of stickes hiere and there a route,

And leide hem redy to his hond,

Wherof he made his trosse and bond;

Fro dai to dai and in this wise

This Ape profreth his servise,

So that he hadde of wode ynouh.

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.

Egeüs, 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 Egeüs

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 Theseüs 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 Theseüs 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 Theseüs 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,

Theseüs 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 Theseüs sound,

Was nevere yit upon the ground

A gladder wyht that sche was tho.

Theseüs duelte a dai or tuo

Wher that Mynos gret chiere him dede:

Theseüs 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

Theseüs, 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 Theseüs 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 Tereüs;

The clerk Ovide telleth thus. 5570

This Tereüs 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 Tereüs 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 Tereüs 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 Tereüs, 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 Tereüs 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 Tereüs 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 Tereüs 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 Tereüs hem hadde do,—

Thei schopen forto venge hem tho.

This Tereüs be Progne his wif

A Sone hath, which as his lif

He loveth, and Ithis he hihte:

His moder wiste wel sche mihte

Do Tereüs 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 Tereüs 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 Tereüs.

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 Tereüs.

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 Protheus,

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.