FRAGMENT B.

Whan I had smelled the savour swote,

No wille hadde I fro thens yit go,

But somdel neer it wente I tho,

To take it; but myn hond, for drede,

Ne dorste I to the rose bede, 1710

For thistels sharpe, of many maneres,

Netles, thornes, and hoked breres;

[Ful] muche they distourbled me,

For sore I dradde to harmed be.

The God of Love, with bowe bent, 1715

That al day set hadde his talent

To pursuen and to spyen me,

Was stonding by a fige-tree.

And whan he sawe how that I

Had chosen so ententifly 1720

The botoun, more unto my pay

Than any other that I say,

He took an arowe ful sharply whet,

And in his bowe whan it was set,

He streight up to his ere drough 1725

The stronge bowe, that was so tough,

And shet at me so wonder smerte,

That through myn eye unto myn herte

The takel smoot, and depe it wente.

And ther-with-al such cold me hente, 1730

That, under clothes warme and softe,

Sith that day I have chevered ofte.

Whan I was hurt thus in [that] stounde,

I fel doun plat unto the grounde.

Myn herte failed and feynted ay, 1735

And long tyme [ther] a-swone I lay.

But whan I com out of swoning,

And hadde wit, and my feling,

I was al maat, and wende ful wel

Of blood have loren a ful gret del. 1740

But certes, the arowe that in me stood

Of me ne drew no drope of blood,

For-why I found my wounde al dreye.

Than took I with myn hondis tweye

The arowe, and ful fast out it plight, 1745

And in the pulling sore I sight.

So at the last the shaft of tree

I drough out, with the fethers three.

But yet the hoked heed, y-wis,

The whiche Beautee callid is, 1750

Gan so depe in myn herte passe,

That I it mighte nought arace;

But in myn herte stille it stood,

Al bledde I not a drope of blood.

I was bothe anguissous and trouble 1755

For the peril that I saw double;

I niste what to seye or do,

Ne gete a leche my woundis to;

For neithir thurgh gras ne rote,

Ne hadde I help of hope ne bote. 1760

But to the botoun ever-mo

Myn herte drew; for al my wo,

My thought was in non other thing.

For hadde it been in my keping,

It wolde have brought my lyf agayn. 1765

For certeinly, I dar wel seyn,

The sight only, and the savour,

Alegged muche of my langour.

Than gan I for to drawe me

Toward the botoun fair to see; 1770

And Love hadde gete him, in [a] throwe,

Another arowe into his bowe,

And for to shete gan him dresse;

The arowis name was Simplesse.

And whan that Love gan nyghe me nere, 1775

He drow it up, withouten were,

And shet at me with al his might,

So that this arowe anon-right

Thourghout [myn] eigh, as it was founde,

Into myn herte hath maad a wounde. 1780

Thanne I anoon dide al my crafte

For to drawen out the shafte,

And ther-with-al I sighed eft.

But in myn herte the heed was left,

Which ay encresid my desyre, 1785

Unto the botoun drawe nere;

And ever, mo that me was wo,

The more desyr hadde I to go

Unto the roser, where that grew

The fresshe botoun so bright of hewe. 1790

Betir me were have leten be;

But it bihoved nedes me

To don right as myn herte bad.

For ever the body must be lad

Aftir the herte; in wele and wo, 1795

Of force togidre they must go.

But never this archer wolde fyne

To shete at me with alle his pyne,

And for to make me to him mete.

The thridde arowe he gan to shete, 1800

Whan best his tyme he mighte espye,

The which was named Curtesye;

Into myn herte it dide avale.

A-swone I fel, bothe deed and pale;

Long tyme I lay, and stired nought, 1805

Til I abraid out of my thought.

And faste than I avysed me

To drawen out the shafte of tree;

But ever the heed was left bihinde

For ought I couthe pulle or winde. 1810

So sore it stikid whan I was hit,

That by no craft I might it flit;

But anguissous and ful of thought,

I felte such wo, my wounde ay wrought,

That somoned me alway to go 1815

Toward the rose, that plesed me so;

But I ne durste in no manere,

Bicause the archer was so nere.

For evermore gladly, as I rede,

Brent child of fyr hath muche drede. 1820

And, certis yit, for al my peyne,

Though that I sigh yit arwis reyne,

And grounde quarels sharpe of stele,

Ne for no payne that I might fele,

Yit might I not my-silf withholde 1825

The faire roser to biholde;

For Love me yaf sich hardement

For to fulfille his comaundement.

Upon my feet I roos up than

Feble, as a forwoundid man; 1830

And forth to gon [my] might I sette,

And for the archer nolde I lette.

Toward the roser fast I drow;

But thornes sharpe mo than y-now

Ther were, and also thistels thikke, 1835

And breres, brimme for to prikke,

That I ne mighte gete grace

The rowe thornes for to passe,

To sene the roses fresshe of hewe.

I must abide, though it me rewe, 1840

The hegge aboute so thikke was,

That closid the roses in compas.

But o thing lyked me right wele;

I was so nygh, I mighte fele

Of the botoun the swote odour, 1845

And also see the fresshe colour;

And that right gretly lyked me,

That I so neer it mighte see.

Sich Ioye anoon therof hadde I,

That I forgat my malady. 1850

To sene [it] hadde I sich delyt,

Of sorwe and angre I was al quit,

And of my woundes that I had thar;

For no-thing lyken me might mar

Than dwellen by the roser ay, 1855

And thennes never to passe away.

But whan a whyle I had be thar,

The God of Love, which al to-shar

Myn herte with his arwis kene,

Caste him to yeve me woundis grene. 1860

He shet at me ful hastily

An arwe named Company,

The whiche takel is ful able

To make these ladies merciable.

Than I anoon gan chaungen hewe 1865

For grevaunce of my wounde newe,

That I agayn fel in swoning,

And sighed sore in compleyning.

Sore I compleyned that my sore

On me gan greven more and more. 1870

I had non hope of allegeaunce;

So nigh I drow to desperaunce,

I rought of dethe ne of lyf,

Whither that love wolde me dryf.

If me a martir wolde he make, 1875

I might his power nought forsake.

And whyl for anger thus I wook,

The God of Love an arowe took;

Ful sharp it was and [ful] pugnaunt,

And it was callid Fair-Semblaunt, 1880

The which in no wys wol consente,

That any lover him repente

To serve his love with herte and alle,

For any peril that may bifalle.

But though this arwe was kene grounde 1885

As any rasour that is founde,

To cutte and kerve, at the poynt,

The God of Love it hadde anoynt

With a precious oynement,

Somdel to yeve aleggement 1890

Upon the woundes that he had

Through the body in my herte maad,

To helpe hir sores, and to cure,

And that they may the bet endure.

But yit this arwe, withoute more, 1895

Made in myn herte a large sore,

That in ful gret peyne I abood.

But ay the oynement wente abrood;

Throughout my woundes large and wyde

It spredde aboute in every syde; 1900

Through whos vertu and whos might

Myn herte Ioyful was and light.

I had ben deed and al to-shent

But for the precious oynement.

The shaft I drow out of the arwe, 1905

Roking for wo right wondir narwe;

But the heed, which made me smerte,

Lefte bihinde in myn herte

With other foure, I dar wel say,

That never wol be take away; 1910

But the oynement halp me wele.

And yit sich sorwe dide I fele,

That al-day I chaunged hewe,

Of my woundes fresshe and newe,

As men might see in my visage. 1915

The arwis were so fulle of rage,

So variaunt of diversitee,

That men in everich mighte see

Bothe gret anoy and eek swetnesse,

And Ioye meynt with bittirnesse. 1920

Now were they esy, now were they wood,

In hem I felte bothe harm and good;

Now sore without aleggement,

Now softening with oynement;

It softned here, and prikked there, 1925

Thus ese and anger togider were.

The God of Love deliverly

Com lepand to me hastily,

And seide to me, in gret rape,

'Yeld thee, for thou may not escape! 1930

May no defence availe thee here;

Therfore I rede mak no daungere.

If thou wolt yelde thee hastily,

Thou shalt [the] rather have mercy.

He is a fool in sikernesse, 1935

That with daunger or stoutnesse

Rebellith ther that he shulde plese;

In such folye is litel ese.

Be meek, wher thou must nedis bowe;

To stryve ageyn is nought thy prowe. 1940

Come at ones, and have y-do,

For I wol that it be so.

Than yeld thee here debonairly.'

And I answerid ful humbly,

'Gladly, sir; at your bidding, 1945

I wol me yelde in alle thing.

To your servyse I wol me take;

For god defende that I shulde make

Ageyn your bidding resistence;

I wol not doon so gret offence; 1950

For if I dide, it were no skile.

Ye may do with me what ye wile,

Save or spille, and also sloo;

Fro you in no wyse may I go.

My lyf, my deth, is in your honde, 1955

I may not laste out of your bonde.

Pleyn at your list I yelde me,

Hoping in herte, that sumtyme ye

Comfort and ese shulle me sende;

Or ellis shortly, this is the ende, 1960

Withouten helthe I moot ay dure,

But-if ye take me to your cure.

Comfort or helthe how shuld I have,

Sith ye me hurte, but ye me save?

The helthe of lovers moot be founde 1965

Wher-as they token firste hir wounde.

And if ye list of me to make

Your prisoner, I wol it take

Of herte and wil, fully at gree.

Hoolly and pleyn I yelde me, 1970

Withoute feyning or feyntyse,

To be governed by your empryse.

Of you I here so much prys,

I wol ben hool at your devys

For to fulfille your lyking 1975

And repente for no-thing,

Hoping to have yit in som tyde

Mercy, of that [that] I abyde.'

And with that covenaunt yeld I me,

Anoon doun kneling upon my knee, 1980

Profering for to kisse his feet;

But for no-thing he wolde me lete,

And seide, 'I love thee bothe and preyse,

Sen that thyn answer doth me ese,

For thou answerid so curteisly. 1985

For now I wot wel uttirly,

That thou art gentil, by thy speche.

For though a man fer wolde seche,

He shulde not finden, in certeyn,

No sich answer of no vileyn; 1990

For sich a word ne mighte nought

Isse out of a vilayns thought.

Thou shalt not lesen of thy speche,

For [to] thy helping wol I eche,

And eek encresen that I may. 1995

But first I wol that thou obay

Fully, for thyn avauntage,

Anon to do me here homage.

And sithen kisse thou shalt my mouth,

Which to no vilayn was never couth 2000

For to aproche it, ne for to touche;

For sauf of cherlis I ne vouche

That they shulle never neigh it nere.

For curteys, and of fair manere,

Wel taught, and ful of gentilnesse 2005

He muste ben, that shal me kisse,

And also of ful high fraunchyse,

That shal atteyne to that empryse.

And first of o thing warne I thee,

That peyne and gret adversitee 2010

He mot endure, and eek travaile,

That shal me serve, withoute faile.

But ther-ageyns, thee to comforte,

And with thy servise to desporte,

Thou mayst ful glad and Ioyful be 2015

So good a maister to have as me,

And lord of so high renoun.

I bere of Love the gonfanoun,

Of Curtesye the banere;

For I am of the silf manere, 2020

Gentil, curteys, meek and free;

That who [so] ever ententif be

Me to honoure, doute, and serve,

And also that he him observe

Fro trespas and fro vilanye, 2025

And him governe in curtesye

With wil and with entencioun;

For whan he first in my prisoun

Is caught, than muste he uttirly,

Fro thennes-forth ful bisily, 2030

Caste him gentil for to be,

If he desyre helpe of me.'

Anoon withouten more delay,

Withouten daunger or affray,

I bicom his man anoon, 2035

And gave him thankes many a oon,

And kneled doun with hondis Ioynt,

And made it in my port ful queynt;

The Ioye wente to myn herte rote.

Whan I had kissed his mouth so swote, 2040

I had sich mirthe and sich lyking,

It cured me of languisshing.

He askid of me than hostages:--

I have,' he seide, 'taken fele homages

Of oon and other, where I have been 2045

Disceyved ofte, withouten wene.

These felouns, fulle of falsitee,

Have many sythes bigyled me,

And through falshede hir lust acheved,

Wherof I repente and am agreved. 2050

And I hem gete in my daungere,

Hir falshed shulie they bye ful dere.

But for I love thee, I seye thee pleyn,

I wol of thee be more certeyn;

For thee so sore I wol now binde, 2055

That thou away ne shalt not winde

For to denyen the covenaunt,

Or doon that is not avenaunt.

That thou were fals it were gret reuthe,

Sith thou semest so ful of treuthe.' 2060

'Sire, if thee list to undirstande,

I merveile thee asking this demande.

For-why or wherfore shulde ye

Ostages or borwis aske of me,

Or any other sikirnesse, 2065

Sith ye wote, in sothfastnesse,

That ye have me surprysed so,

And hool myn herte taken me fro,

That it wol do for me no-thing

But-if it be at your bidding? 2070

Myn herte is yours, and myn right nought,

As it bihoveth, in dede and thought,

Redy in alle to worche your wille,

Whether so [it] turne to good or ille.

So sore it lustith you to plese, 2075

No man therof may you disseise.

Ye have theron set sich Iustise,

That it is werreyd in many wise.

And if ye doute it nolde obeye,

Ye may therof do make a keye, 2080

And holde it with you for ostage.'

Now certis, this is noon outrage,'

Quoth Love, 'and fully I accord;

For of the body he is ful lord

That hath the herte in his tresor; 2085

Outrage it were to asken more.'

Than of his aumener he drough

A litel keye, fetys y-nough,

Which was of gold polisshed clere,

And seide to me, 'With this keye here 2090

Thyn herte to me now wol I shette;

For al my Iowellis loke and knette

I binde under this litel keye,

That no wight may carye aweye;

This keye is ful of gret poeste.' 2095

With which anoon he touchid me

Undir the syde ful softely,

That he myn herte sodeynly

Without [al] anoy had spered,

That yit right nought it hath me dered. 2100

Whan he had doon his wil al-out,

And I had put him out of dout,

Sire,' I seide, 'I have right gret wille

Your lust and plesaunce to fulfille.

Loke ye my servise take at gree, 2105

By thilke feith ye owe to me.

I seye nought for recreaundyse,

For I nought doute of your servyse.

But the servaunt traveileth in vayne,

That for to serven doth his payne 2110

Unto that lord, which in no wyse

Can him no thank for his servyse.'

Love seide, 'Dismaye thee nought,

Sin thou for sucour hast me sought,

In thank thy servise wol I take, 2115

And high of degree I wol thee make,

If wikkidnesse ne hindre thee;

But, as I hope, it shal nought be.

To worship no wight by aventure

May come, but-if he peyne endure. 2120

Abyde and suffre thy distresse;

That hurtith now, it shal be lesse;

I wot my-silf what may thee save,

What medicyne thou woldist have.

And if thy trouthe to me thou kepe, 2125

I shal unto thyn helping eke,

To cure thy woundes and make hem clene,

Wher-so they be olde or grene;

Thou shalt be holpen, at wordis fewe.

For certeynly thou shalt wel shewe 2130

Wher that thou servest with good wille,

For to complisshen and fulfille

My comaundementis, day and night,

Whiche I to lovers yeve of right.'

'Ah, sire, for goddis love,' seide I, 2135

Er ye passe hens, ententifly

Your comaundementis to me ye say,

And I shal kepe hem, if I may;

For hem to kepen is al my thought.

And if so be I wot hem nought, 2140

Than may I [sinne] unwitingly.

Wherfore I pray you enterely,

With al myn herte, me to lere,

That I trespasse in no manere.'

The god of love than chargid me 2145

Anoon, as ye shal here and see,

Word by word, by right empryse,

So as the Romance shal devyse.

The maister lesith his tyme to lere,

Whan the disciple wol not here. 2150

It is but veyn on him to swinke,

That on his lerning wol not thinke.

Who-so lust love, let him entende,

For now the Romance ginneth amende.

Now is good to here, in fay, 2155

If any be that can it say,

And poynte it as the resoun is

Set; for other-gate, y-wis,

It shal nought wel in alle thing

Be brought to good undirstonding: 2160

For a reder that poyntith ille

A good sentence may ofte spille.

The book is good at the ending,

Maad of newe and lusty thing;

For who-so wol the ending here, 2165

The crafte of love he shal now lere,

If that he wol so long abyde,

Til I this Romance may unhyde,

And undo the signifiaunce

Of this dreme into Romaunce. 2170

The sothfastnesse that now is hid,

Without coverture shal be kid,

Whan I undon have this dreming,

Wherin no word is of lesing.

'Vilany, at the biginning, 2175

I wol,' sayd Love, 'over alle thing,

Thou leve, if thou wolt [not] be

Fals, and trespasse ageynes me.

I curse and blame generally

Alle hem that loven vilany; 2180

For vilany makith vilayn,

And by his dedis a cherle is seyn.

Thise vilayns arn without pitee,

Frendshipe, love, and al bounte.

I nil receyve to my servyse 2185

Hem that ben vilayns of empryse.

'But undirstonde in thyn entent,

That this is not myn entendement,

To clepe no wight in no ages

Only gentil for his linages. 2190

But who-so [that] is vertuous,

And in his port nought outrageous,

Whan sich oon thou seest thee biforn,

Though he be not gentil born,

Thou mayst wel seyn, this is a soth, 2195

That he is gentil, bicause he doth

As longeth to a gentilman;

Of hem non other deme I can.

For certeynly, withouten drede,

A cherl is demed by his dede, 2200

Of hye or lowe, as ye may see,

Or of what kinrede that he be.

Ne say nought, for noon yvel wille,

Thing that is to holden stille;

It is no worship to misseye. 2205

Thou mayst ensample take of Keye,

That was somtyme, for misseying,

Hated bothe of olde and ying;

As fer as Gaweyn, the worthy,

Was preysed for his curtesy, 2210

Keye was hated, for he was fel,

Of word dispitous and cruel.

Wherfore be wyse and aqueyntable,

Goodly of word, and resonable

Bothe to lesse and eek to mar. 2215

And whan thou comest ther men ar,

Loke that thou have in custom ay

First to salue hem, if thou may:

And if it falle, that of hem som

Salue thee first, be not dom, 2220

But quyte him curteisly anoon

Without abiding, er they goon.

'For no-thing eek thy tunge applye

To speke wordis of ribaudye.

To vilayn speche in no degree 2225

Lat never thy lippe unbounden be.

For I nought holde him, in good feith,

Curteys, that foule wordis seith.

And alle wimmen serve and preyse,

And to thy power hir honour reyse. 2230

And if that any missayere

Dispyse wimmen, that thou mayst here,

Blame him, and bidde him holde him stille.

And set thy might and al thy wille

Wimmen and ladies for to plese, 2235

And to do thing that may hem ese,

That they ever speke good of thee,

For so thou mayst best preysed be.

'Loke fro pryde thou kepe thee wele;

For thou mayst bothe perceyve and fele, 2240

That pryde is bothe foly and sinne;

And he that pryde hath, him withinne,

Ne may his herte, in no wyse,

Meken ne souplen to servyse.

For pryde is founde, in every part, 2245

Contrarie unto Loves art.

And he that loveth trewely

Shulde him contene Iolily,

Withouten pryde in sondry wyse,

And him disgysen in queyntyse. 2250

For queynt array, withouten drede,

Is no-thing proud, who takith hede;

For fresh array, as men may see,

Withouten pryde may ofte be.

'Mayntene thy-silf aftir thy rent, 2255

Of robe and eek of garnement;

For many sythe fair clothing

A man amendith in mich thing.

And loke alwey that they be shape,

What garnement that thou shalt make, 2260

Of him that can [hem] beste do,

With al that perteyneth therto.

Poyntis and sleves be wel sittand,

Right and streight upon the hand.

Of shoon and botes, newe and faire, 2265

Loke at the leest thou have a paire;

And that they sitte so fetisly,

That these rude may uttirly

Merveyle, sith that they sitte so pleyn,

How they come on or of ageyn. 2270

Were streite gloves, with aumenere

Of silk; and alwey with good chere

Thou yeve, if thou have richesse;

And if thou have nought, spend the lesse.

Alwey be mery, if thou may, 2275

But waste not thy good alway.

Have hat of floures fresh as May,

Chapelet of roses of Whitsonday;

For sich array ne cost but lyte.

Thyn hondis wasshe, thy teeth make whyte, 2280

And let no filthe upon thee be.

Thy nailes blak if thou mayst see,

Voide it awey deliverly,

And kembe thyn heed right Iolily.

[Fard] not thy visage in no wyse, 2285

For that of love is not thempryse;

For love doth haten, as I finde,

A beaute that cometh not of kinde.

Alwey in herte I rede thee

Glad and mery for to be, 2290

And be as Ioyful as thou can;

Love hath no Ioye of sorowful man.

That yvel is ful of curtesye

That [lauhwith] in his maladye;

For ever of love the siknesse 2295

Is meynd with swete and bitternesse.

The sore of love is merveilous;

For now the lover [is] Ioyous,

Now can he pleyne, now can he grone,

Now can he singen, now maken mone. 2300

To-day he pleyneth for hevinesse,

To-morowe he pleyeth for Iolynesse.

The lyf of love is ful contrarie,

Which stoundemele can ofte varie.

But if thou canst [som] mirthis make, 2305

That men in gree wole gladly take,

Do it goodly, I comaunde thee;

For men sholde, wher-so-ever they be,

Do thing that hem [best] sitting is,

For therof cometh good loos and pris. 2310

Wher-of that thou be vertuous,

Ne be not straunge ne daungerous.

For if that thou good rider be,

Prike gladly, that men may se.

In armes also if thou conne, 2315

Pursue, til thou a name hast wonne.

And if thy voice be fair and clere,

Thou shalt maken no gret daungere

Whan to singe they goodly preye;

It is thy worship for to obeye. 2320

Also to you it longith ay

To harpe and giterne, daunce and play;

For if he can wel foote and daunce,

It may him greetly do avaunce.

Among eek, for thy lady sake, 2325

Songes and complayntes that thou make;

For that wol meve [hem] in hir herte,

Whan they reden of thy smerte.

Loke that no man for scarce thee holde,

For that may greve thee manyfolde. 2330

Resoun wol that a lover be

In his yiftes more large and free

Than cherles that been not of loving.

For who ther-of can any thing,

He shal be leef ay for to yeve, 2335

In [Loves] lore who so wolde leve;

For he that, through a sodeyn sight,

Or for a kissing, anon-right

Yaf hool his herte in wille and thought,

And to him-silf kepith right nought, 2340

Aftir [swich yift], is good resoun,

He yeve his good in abandoun.

'Now wol I shortly here reherce,

Of that [that] I have seid in verse,

Al the sentence by and by, 2345

In wordis fewe compendiously,

That thou the bet mayst on hem thinke,

Whether-so it be thou wake or winke;

For [that] the wordis litel greve

A man to kepe, whanne it is breve. 2350

'Who-so with Love wol goon or ryde

He mot be curteys, and void of pryde,

Mery and fulle of Iolite,

And of largesse alosed be.

'First I Ioyne thee, here in penaunce, 2355

That ever, withoute repentaunce,

Thou set thy thought in thy loving,

To laste withoute repenting;

And thenke upon thy mirthis swete,

That shal folowe aftir whan ye mete. 2360

'And for thou trewe to love shalt be,

I wol, and [eek] comaunde thee,

That in oo place thou sette, al hool,

Thyn herte, withouten halfen dool,

For trecherie, [in] sikernesse; 2365

For I lovede never doublenesse.

To many his herte that wol depart,

Everiche shal have but litel part.

But of him drede I me right nought,

That in oo place settith his thought. 2370

Therfore in oo place it sette,

And lat it never thennes flette.

For if thou yevest it in lening,

I holde it but a wrecchid thing:

Therfore yeve it hool and quyte, 2375

And thou shalt have the more merite.

If it be lent, than aftir soon,

The bountee and the thank is doon;

But, in love, free yeven thing

Requyrith a gret guerdoning. 2380

Yeve it in yift al quit fully,

And make thy yift debonairly;

For men that yift [wol] holde more dere

That yeven is with gladsome chere.

That yift nought to preisen is 2385

That man yeveth, maugre his.

Whan thou hast yeven thyn herte, as I

Have seid thee here [al] openly,

Than aventures shulle thee falle,

Which harde and hevy been withalle. 2390

For ofte whan thou bithenkist thee

Of thy loving, wher-so thou be,

Fro folk thou must depart in hy,

That noon perceyve thy malady,

But hyde thyn harm thou must alone, 2395

And go forth sole, and make thy mone.

Thou shalt no whyl be in oo stat,

But whylom cold and whylom hat;

Now reed as rose, now yelowe and fade.

Such sorowe, I trowe, thou never hade; 2400

Cotidien, ne [yit] quarteyne,

It is nat so ful of peyne.

For ofte tymes it shal falle

In love, among thy peynes alle,

That thou thy-self, al hoolly, 2405

Foryeten shalt so utterly,

That many tymes thou shalt be

Stille as an image of tree,

Dom as a stoon, without stering

Of foot or hond, without speking. 2410

Than, sone after al thy peyne,

To memorie shalt thou come ageyn,

As man abasshed wondre sore,

And after sighen more and more.

For wit thou wel, withouten wene, 2415

In swich astat ful oft have been

That have the yvel of love assayd,

Wher-through thou art so dismayd.

'After, a thought shal take thee so,

That thy love is to fer thee fro: 2420

Thou shalt say, "God, what may this be,

That I ne may my lady see?

Myne herte aloon is to her go,

And I abyde al sole in wo,

Departed fro myn owne thought, 2425

And with myne eyen see right nought.

'"Alas, myn eyen sende I ne may,

My careful herte to convay!

Myn hertes gyde but they be,

I praise no-thing what ever they see. 2430

Shul they abyde thanne? nay;

But goon visyte without delay

That myn herte desyreth so.

For certeynly, but-if they go,

A fool my-self I may wel holde, 2435

Whan I ne see what myn herte wolde.

Wherfore I wol gon her to seen,

Or esed shal I never been,

But I have som tokening."

Then gost thou forth without dwelling; 2440

But ofte thou faylest of thy desyre,

Er thou mayst come hir any nere,

And wastest in vayn thy passage.

Than fallest thou in a newe rage;

For want of sight thou ginnest morne, 2445

And homward pensif dost retorne.

In greet mischeef than shall thou be,

For than agayn shal come to thee

Sighes and pleyntes, with newe wo,

That no icching prikketh so. 2450

Who wot it nought, he may go lere

Of hem that byen love so dere.

'No-thing thyn herte appesen may,

That oft thou wolt goon and assay,

If thou mayst seen, by aventure, 2455

Thy lyves joy, thyn hertis cure;

So that, by grace if thou might

Atteyne of hir to have a sight,

Than shall thou doon non other dede

But with that sight thyn eyen fede. 2460

That faire fresh whan thou mayst see,

Thyn herte shal so ravisshed be,

That never thou woldest, thy thankis, lete,

Ne remove, for to see that swete.

The more thou seest in sothfastnesse, 2465

The more thou coveytest of that swetnesse;

The more thyn herte brenneth in fyr,

The more thyn herte is in desyr.

For who considreth every del,

It may be lykned wondir wel, 2470

The peyne of love, unto a fere;

For ever [the] more thou neighest nere

Thought, or who-so that it be,

For verray sothe I telle it thee,

The hatter ever shal thou brenne, 2475

As experience shal thee kenne.

Wher-so [thou] comest in any cost,

Who is next fyr, he brenneth most.

And yit forsothe, for al thyn hete,

Though thou for love swelte and swete, 2480

Ne for no-thing thou felen may,

Thou shalt not willen to passe away.

And though thou go, yet must thee nede

Thenke al-day on hir fairhede,

Whom thou bihelde with so good wille; 2485

And holde thysilf bigyled ille,

That thou ne haddest non hardement

To shewe hir ought of thyn entent.

Thyn herte ful sore thou wolt dispyse,

And eek repreve of cowardyse, 2490

That thou, so dulle in every thing,

Were dom for drede, without speking.

Thou shalt eek thenke thou didest foly,

That thou were hir so faste by,

And durst not auntre thee to say 2495

Som-thing, er thou cam away;

For thou haddist no more wonne,

To speke of hir whan thou bigonne:

But yif she wolde, for thy sake,

In armes goodly thee have take, 2500

It shulde have be more worth to thee

Than of tresour greet plentee.

'Thus shalt thou morne and eek compleyn,

And gete enchesoun to goon ageyn

Unto thy walk, or to thy place, 2505

Where thou biheld hir fleshly face.

And never, for fals suspeccioun,

Thou woldest finde occasioun

For to gon unto hir hous.

So art thou thanne desirous 2510

A sight of hir for to have,

If thou thine honour mightest save,

Or any erand mightist make

Thider, for thy loves sake;

Ful fayn thou woldist, but for drede 2515

Thou gost not, lest that men take hede.

Wherfore I rede, in thy going,

And also in thyn ageyn-coming,

Thou be wel war that men ne wit;

Feyne thee other cause than it 2520

To go that weye, or faste by;

To hele wel is no folye.

And if so be it happe thee

That thou thy love ther mayst see,

In siker wyse thou hir salewe, 2525

Wherwith thy colour wol transmewe,

And eke thy blood shal al to-quake,

Thyn hewe eek chaungen for hir sake.

But word and wit, with chere ful pale,

Shul wante for to telle thy tale. 2530

And if thou mayst so fer-forth winne,

That thou [thy] resoun durst biginne,

And woldist seyn three thingis or mo,

Thou shalt ful scarsly seyn the two.

Though thou bithenke thee never so wel, 2535

Thou shalt foryete yit somdel,

But-if thou dele with trecherye.

For fals lovers mowe al folye

Seyn, what hem lust, withouten drede,

They be so double in hir falshede; 2540

For they in herte cunne thenke a thing

And seyn another, in hir speking.

And whan thy speche is endid al,

Right thus to thee it shal bifal;

If any word than come to minde, 2545

That thou to seye hast left bihinde,

Than thou shalt brenne in greet martyr;

For thou shalt brenne as any fyr.

This is the stryf and eke the affray,

And the batail that lastith ay. 2550

This bargeyn ende may never take,

But-if that she thy pees wil make.

'And whan the night is comen, anon

A thousand angres shal come upon.

To bedde as fast thou wolt thee dight, 2555

Where thou shalt have but smal delyt;

For whan thou wenest for to slepe,

So ful of peyne shalt thou crepe,

Sterte in thy bedde aboute ful wyde,

And turne ful ofte on every syde; 2560

Now dounward groffe, and now upright,

And walowe in wo the longe night,

Thyne armis shalt thou sprede a-brede,

As man in werre were forwerreyd.

Than shal thee come a remembraunce 2565

Of hir shape and hir semblaunce,

Wherto non other may be pere.

And wite thou wel, withoute were,

That thee shal [seme], somtyme that night,

That thou hast hir, that is so bright, 2570

Naked bitwene thyn armes there,

Al sothfastnesse as though it were.

Thou shalt make castels than in Spayne,

And dreme of Ioye, al but in vayne,

And thee delyten of right nought, 2575

Whyl thou so slomrest in that thought,

That is so swete and delitable,

The which, in soth, nis but a fable,

For it ne shal no whyle laste.

Than shalt thou sighe and wepe faste, 2580

And say, "Dere god, what thing is this?

My dreme is turned al amis,

Which was ful swete and apparent,

But now I wake, it is al shent!

Now yede this mery thought away! 2585

Twenty tymes upon a day

I wolde this thought wolde come ageyn,

For it alleggith wel my peyn.

It makith me ful of Ioyful thought,

It sleeth me, that it lastith noght. 2590

A, lord! why nil ye me socoure,

The Ioye, I trowe, that I langoure?

The deth I wolde me shulde slo

Whyl I lye in hir armes two.

Myn harm is hard, withouten wene, 2595

My greet unese ful ofte I mene.

But wolde Love do so I might

Have fully Ioye of hir so bright,

My peyne were quit me richely.

Allas, to greet a thing aske I! 2600

It is but foly, and wrong wening,

To aske so outrageous a thing.

And who-so askith folily,

He moot be warned hastily;

And I ne wot what I may say, 2605

I am so fer out of the way;

For I wolde have ful gret lyking

And ful gret Ioye of lasse thing.

For wolde she, of hir gentilnesse,

Withouten more, me onis kesse, 2610

It were to me a greet guerdoun,

Relees of al my passioun.

But it is hard to come therto;

Al is but foly that I do,

So high I have myn herte set, 2615

Where I may no comfort get.

I noot wher I sey wel or nought;

But this I wot wel in my thought,

That it were bet of hir aloon,

For to stinte my wo and moon, 2620

A loke on [me] y-cast goodly,

[Than] for to have, al utterly,

Of another al hool the pley.

A! lord! wher I shal byde the day

That ever she shal my lady be? 2625

He is ful cured that may hir see.

A! god! whan shal the dawning spring?

To ly thus is an angry thing;

I have no Ioye thus here to ly

Whan that my love is not me by. 2630

A man to lyen hath gret disese,

Which may not slepe ne reste in ese.

I wolde it dawed, and were now day,

And that the night were went away;

For were it day, I wolde upryse. 2635

A! slowe sonne, shew thyn enpryse!

Speed thee to sprede thy bemis bright,

And chace the derknesse of the night,

To putte away the stoundes stronge,

Which in me lasten al to longe." 2640

'The night shalt thou contene so,

Withoute rest, in peyne and wo;

If ever thou knewe of love distresse,

Thou shalt mowe lerne in that siknesse.

And thus enduring shalt thou ly, 2645

And ryse on morwe up erly

Out of thy bedde, and harneys thee

Er ever dawning thou mayst see.

Al privily than shalt thou goon,

What [weder] it be, thy-silf aloon, 2650

For reyn, or hayl, for snow, for slete,

Thider she dwellith that is so swete,

The which may falle aslepe be,

And thenkith but litel upon thee.

Than shalt thou goon, ful foule aferd; 2655

Loke if the gate be unsperd,

And waite without in wo and peyn,

Ful yvel a-cold in winde and reyn.

Than shal thou go the dore bifore,

If thou maist fynde any score, 2660

Or hole, or reft, what ever it were;

Than shalt thou stoupe, and lay to ere,

If they within a-slepe be;

I mene, alle save thy lady free.

Whom waking if thou mayst aspye, 2665

Go put thy-silf in Iupartye,

To aske grace, and thee bimene,

That she may wite, withouten wene,

That thou [a]night no rest hast had,

So sore for hir thou were bistad. 2670

Wommen wel ought pite to take

Of hem that sorwen for hir sake.

And loke, for love of that relyke,

That thou thenke non other lyke,

For [whom] thou hast so greet annoy, 2675

Shal kisse thee er thou go away,

And hold that in ful gret deyntee.

And, for that no man shal thee see

Bifore the hous, ne in the way,

Loke thou be goon ageyn er day. 2680

Suche coming, and such going,

Such hevinesse, and such walking,

Makith lovers, withouten wene,

Under hir clothes pale and lene,

For Love leveth colour ne cleernesse; 2685

Who loveth trewe hath no fatnesse.

Thou shalt wel by thy-selfe see

That thou must nedis assayed be.

For men that shape hem other wey

Falsly her ladies to bitray, 2690

It is no wonder though they be fat;

With false othes hir loves they gat;

For oft I see suche losengeours

Fatter than abbatis or priours.

'Yet with o thing I thee charge, 2695

That is to seye, that thou be large

Unto the mayd that hir doth serve,

So best hir thank thou shalt deserve.

Yeve hir yiftes, and get hir grace,

For so thou may [hir] thank purchace, 2700

That she thee worthy holde and free,

Thy lady, and alle that may thee see.

Also hir servauntes worshipe ay,

And plese as muche as thou may;

Gret good through hem may come to thee, 2705

Bicause with hir they been prive.

They shal hir telle how they thee fand

Curteis and wys, and wel doand,

And she shal preyse [thee] wel the mare.

Loke out of londe thou be not fare; 2710

And if such cause thou have, that thee

Bihoveth to gon out of contree,

Leve hool thyn herte in hostage,

Til thou ageyn make thy passage.

Thenk long to see the swete thing 2715

That hath thyn herte in hir keping.

'Now have I told thee, in what wyse

A lover shal do me servyse.

Do it than, if thou wolt have

The mede that thou aftir crave.' 2720

Whan Love al this had boden me,

I seide him:--'Sire, how may it be

That lovers may in such manere

Endure the peyne ye have seid here?

I merveyle me wonder faste, 2725

How any man may live or laste

In such peyne, and such brenning,

In sorwe and thought, and such sighing,

Ay unrelesed wo to make,

Whether so it be they slepe or wake. 2730

In such annoy continuely,

As helpe me god, this merveile I,

How man, but he were maad of stele,

Might live a month, such peynes to fele.'

The God of Love than seide me, 2735

Freend, by the feith I owe to thee,

May no man have good, but he it by.

A man loveth more tendirly

The thing that he hath bought most dere.

For wite thou wel, withouten were, 2740

In thank that thing is taken more,

For which a man hath suffred sore.

Certis, no wo ne may atteyne

Unto the sore of loves peyne.

Non yvel therto ne may amounte, 2745

No more than a man [may] counte

The dropes that of the water be.

For drye as wel the grete see

Thou mightist, as the harmes telle

Of hem that with Love dwelle 2750

In servyse; for peyne hem sleeth,

And that ech man wolde flee the deeth,

And trowe they shulde never escape,

Nere that hope couthe hem make

Glad as man in prisoun set, 2755

And may not geten for to et

But barly-breed, and watir pure,

And lyeth in vermin and in ordure;

With alle this, yit can he live,

Good hope such comfort hath him yive, 2760

Which maketh wene that he shal be

Delivered and come to liberte;

In fortune is [his] fulle trust.

Though he lye in strawe or dust,

In hope is al his susteyning. 2765

And so for lovers, in hir wening,

Whiche Love hath shit in his prisoun;

Good-Hope is hir salvacioun.

Good-Hope, how sore that they smerte,

Yeveth hem bothe wille and herte 2770

To profre hir body to martyre;

For Hope so sore doth hem desyre

To suffre ech harm that men devyse,

For Ioye that aftir shal aryse.

Hope, in desire [to] cacche victorie; 2775

In Hope, of love is al the glorie,

For Hope is al that love may yive;

Nere Hope, ther shulde no lover live.

Blessid be Hope, which with desyre

Avaunceth lovers in such manere. 2780

Good-Hope is curteis for to plese,

To kepe lovers from al disese.

Hope kepith his lond, and wol abyde,

For any peril that may betyde;

For Hope to lovers, as most cheef, 2785

Doth hem enduren al mischeef;

Hope is her help, whan mister is.

And I shal yeve thee eek, y-wis,

Three other thingis, that greet solas

Doth to hem that be in my las. 2790

'The firste good that may be founde,

To hem that in my lace be bounde,

Is Swete-Thought, for to recorde

Thing wherwith thou canst accorde

Best in thyn herte, wher she be; 2795

Thought in absence is good to thee.

Whan any lover doth compleyne,

And liveth in distresse and peyne,

Than Swete-Thought shal come, as blyve,

Awey his angre for to dryve. 2800

It makith lovers have remembraunce

Of comfort, and of high plesaunce,

That Hope hath hight him for to winne.

For Thought anoon than shal biginne,

As fer, god wot, as he can finde, 2805

To make a mirrour of his minde;

For to biholde he wol not lette.

Hir person he shal afore him sette,

Hir laughing eyen, persaunt and clere,

Hir shape, hir fourme, hir goodly chere, 2810

Hir mouth that is so gracious,

So swete, and eek so saverous;

Of alle hir fetures he shal take heede,

His eyen with alle hir limes fede.

'Thus Swete-Thenking shal aswage 2815

The peyne of lovers, and hir rage.

Thy Ioye shal double, withoute gesse,

Whan thou thenkist on hir semlinesse,

Or of hir laughing, or of hir chere,

That to thee made thy lady dere. 2820

This comfort wol I that thou take;

And if the next thou wolt forsake

Which is not lesse saverous,

Thou shuldist been to daungerous.

'The secounde shal be Swete-Speche, 2825

That hath to many oon be leche,

To bringe hem out of wo and were,

And helpe many a bachilere;

And many a lady sent socoure,

That have loved par-amour, 2830

Through speking, whan they mighten here

Of hir lovers, to hem so dere.

To [hem] it voidith al hir smerte,

The which is closed in hir herte.

In herte it makith hem glad and light, 2835

Speche, whan they mowe have sight.

And therfore now it cometh to minde,

In olde dawes, as I finde,

That clerkis writen that hir knewe

Ther was a lady fresh of hewe, 2840

Which of hir love made a song

On him for to remembre among,

In which she seide, "Whan that I here

Speken of him that is so dere,

To me it voidith al [my] smerte, 2845

Y-wis, he sit so nere myn herte.

To speke of him, at eve or morwe,

It cureth me of al my sorwe.

To me is noon so high plesaunce

As of his persone daliaunce." 2850

She wist ful wel that Swete-Speking

Comfortith in ful muche thing.

Hir love she had ful wel assayed,

Of him she was ful wel apayed;

To speke of him hir Ioye was set. 2855

Therfore I rede thee that thou get

A felowe that can wel concele

And kepe thy counsel, and wel hele,

To whom go shewe hoolly thyn herte,

Bothe wele and wo, Ioye and smerte: 2860

To gete comfort to him thou go,

And privily, bitween yow two,

Ye shal speke of that goodly thing,

That hath thyn herte in hir keping;

Of hir beaute and hir semblaunce, 2865

And of hir goodly countenaunce.

Of al thy state thou shalt him sey,

And aske him counseil how thou may

Do any thing that may hir plese;

For it to thee shal do gret ese, 2870

That he may wite thou trust him so,

Bothe of thy wele and of thy wo.

And if his herte to love be set,

His companye is muche the bet,

For resoun wol, he shewe to thee 2875

Al uttirly his privite;

And what she is he loveth so,

To thee pleynly he shal undo,

Withoute drede of any shame,

Bothe telle hir renoun and hir name. 2880

Than shal he forther, ferre and nere,

And namely to thy lady dere,

In siker wyse; ye, every other

Shal helpen as his owne brother,

In trouthe withoute doublenesse, 2885

And kepen cloos in sikernesse.

For it is noble thing, in fay,

To have a man thou darst say

Thy prive counsel every del;

For that wol comfort thee right wel, 2890

And thou shall holde thee wel apayed,

Whan such a freend thou hast assayed.

'The thridde good of greet comfort

That yeveth to lovers most disport,

Comith of sight and biholding, 2895

That clepid is Swete-Loking,

The whiche may noon ese do,

Whan thou art fer thy lady fro;

Wherfore thou prese alwey to be

In place, where thou mayst hir se. 2900

For it is thing most amerous,

Most delitable and saverous,

For to aswage a mannes sorowe,

To sene his lady by the morowe.

For it is a ful noble thing 2905

Whan thyn eyen have meting

With that relyke precious,

Wherof they be so desirous.

But al day after, soth it is,

They have no drede to faren amis, 2910

They dreden neither wind ne reyn,

Ne [yit] non other maner peyn.

For whan thyn eyen were thus in blis,

Yit of hir curtesye, y-wis,

Aloon they can not have hir Ioye, 2915

But to the herte they [it] convoye;

Part of hir blis to him [they] sende,

Of al this harm to make an ende.

The eye is a good messangere,

Which can to the herte in such manere 2920

Tidyngis sende, that [he] hath seen,

To voide him of his peynes cleen.

Wherof the herte reioyseth so

That a gret party of his wo

Is voided, and put awey to flight. 2925

Right as the derknesse of the night

Is chased with clerenesse of the mone,

Right so is al his wo ful sone

Devoided clene, whan that the sight

Biholden may that fresshe wight 2930

That the herte desyreth so,

That al his derknesse is ago;

For than the herte is al at ese,

Whan they seen that [that] may hem plese.

'Now have I thee declared alout, 2935

Of that thou were in drede and dout;

For I have told thee feithfully

What thee may curen utterly,

And alle lovers that wole be

Feithful, and ful of stabilite. 2940

Good-Hope alwey kepe by thy syde,

And Swete-Thought make eek abyde,

Swete-Loking and Swete-Speche;

Of alle thyn harmes they shal be leche.

Of every thou shalt have greet plesaunce; 2945

If thou canst byde in sufferaunce,

And serve wel without feyntyse,

Thou shalt be quit of thyn empryse,

With more guerdoun, if that thou live;

But al this tyme this I thee yive.' 2950

The God of Love whan al the day

Had taught me, as ye have herd say,

And enfourmed compendiously,

He vanished awey al sodeynly,

And I alone lefte, al sole, 2955

So ful of compleynt and of dole,

For I saw no man ther me by.

My woundes me greved wondirly;

Me for to curen no-thing I knew,

Save the botoun bright of hew, 2960

Wheron was set hoolly my thought;

Of other comfort knew I nought,

But it were through the God of Love;

I knew nat elles to my bihove

That might me ese or comfort gete, 2965

But-if he wolde him entermete.

The roser was, withoute doute,

Closed with an hegge withoute,

As ye to-forn have herd me seyn;

And fast I bisied, and wolde fayn 2970

Have passed the haye, if I might

Have geten in by any slight

Unto the botoun so fair to see.

But ever I dradde blamed to be,

If men wolde have suspeccioun 2975

That I wolde of entencioun

Have stole the roses that ther were;

Therfore to entre I was in fere.

But at the last, as I bithought

Whether I sholde passe or nought, 2980

I saw come with a gladde chere

To me, a lusty bachelere,

Of good stature, and of good hight,

And Bialacoil forsothe he hight.

Sone he was to Curtesy, 2985

And he me graunted ful gladly

The passage of the outer hay,

And seide:--'Sir, how that ye may

Passe, if [it] your wille be,

The fresshe roser for to see, 2990

And ye the swete savour fele.

Your warrant may [I be] right wele;

So thou thee kepe fro folye,

Shal no man do thee vilanye.

If I may helpe you in ought, 2995

I shal not feyne, dredeth nought;

For I am bounde to your servyse,

Fully devoide of feyntyse.'

Than unto Bialacoil saide I,

'I thank you, sir, ful hertely, 3000

And your biheest [I] take at gree,

That ye so goodly prefer me;

To you it cometh of greet fraunchyse,

That ye me prefer your servyse.'

Than aftir, ful deliverly, 3005

Through the breres anoon wente I,

Wherof encombred was the hay.

I was wel plesed, the soth to say,

To see the botoun fair and swote,

So fresshe spronge out of the rote. 3010

And Bialacoil me served wel,

Whan I so nygh me mighte fele

Of the botoun the swete odour,

And so lusty hewed of colour.

But than a cherl (foule him bityde!) 3015

Bisyde the roses gan him hyde,

To kepe the roses of that roser,

Of whom the name was Daunger.

This cherl was hid there in the greves,

Covered with grasse and with leves, 3020

To spye and take whom that he fond

Unto that roser putte an hond.

He was not sole, for ther was mo;

For with him were other two

Of wikkid maners, and yvel fame. 3025

That oon was clepid, by his name,

Wikked-Tonge, god yeve him sorwe!

For neither at eve, ne at morwe,

He can of no man [no] good speke;

On many a Iust man doth he wreke. 3030

Ther was a womman eek, that hight

Shame, that, who can reken right,

Trespas was hir fadir name,

Hir moder Resoun; and thus was Shame

[On lyve] brought of these ilk two. 3035

And yit had Trespas never ado

With Resoun, ne never ley hir by,

He was so hidous and ugly,

I mene, this that Trespas hight;

But Resoun conceyveth, of a sight, 3040

Shame, of that I spak aforn.

And whan that Shame was thus born,

It was ordeyned, that Chastitee

Shulde of the roser lady be,

Which, of the botouns more and las, 3045

With sondry folk assailed was,

That she ne wiste what to do.

For Venus hir assailith so,

That night and day from hir she stal

Botouns and roses over-al. 3050

To Resoun than prayeth Chastitee,

Whom Venus flemed over the see,

That she hir doughter wolde hir lene,

To kepe the roser fresh and grene.

Anoon Resoun to Chastitee 3055

Is fully assented that it be,

And grauntid hir, at hir request,

That Shame, bicause she is honest,

Shal keper of the roser be.

And thus to kepe it ther were three, 3060

That noon shulde hardy be ne bold

(Were he yong, or were he old)

Ageyn hir wille awey to bere

Botouns ne roses, that ther were.

I had wel sped, had I not been 3065

Awayted with these three, and seen.

For Bialacoil, that was so fair,

So gracious and debonair,

Quitte him to me ful curteisly,

And, me to plese, bad that I 3070

Shuld drawe me to the botoun nere;

Prese in, to touche the rosere

Which bar the roses, he yaf me leve;

This graunt ne might but litel greve.

And for he saw it lyked me, 3075

Right nygh the botoun pullede he

A leef al grene, and yaf me that,

The which ful nygh the botoun sat;

I made [me] of that leef ful queynt.

And whan I felte I was aqueynt 3080

With Bialacoil, and so prive,

I wende al at my wille had be.

Than wex I hardy for to tel

To Bialacoil how me bifel

Of Love, that took and wounded me, 3085

And seide: 'Sir, so mote I thee,

I may no loye have in no wyse,

Upon no syde, but it ryse;

For sithe (if I shal not feyne)

In herte I have had so gret peyne, 3090

So gret annoy, and such affray,

That I ne wot what I shal say;

I drede your wrath to disserve.

Lever me were, that knyves kerve

My body shulde in pecis smalle, 3095

Than in any wyse it shulde falle

That ye wratthed shulde been with me.'

Sey boldely thy wille,' quod he,

I nil be wroth, if that I may,

For nought that thou shalt to me say.' 3100

Thanne seide I, 'Sir, not you displese

To knowen of my greet unese,

In which only love hath me brought;

For peynes greet, disese and thought,

Fro day to day he doth me drye; 3105

Supposeth not, sir, that I lye.

In me fyve woundes dide he make,

The sore of whiche shal never slake

But ye the botoun graunte me,

Which is most passaunt of beautee, 3110

My lyf, my deth, and my martyre,

And tresour that I most desyre.'

Than Bialacoil, affrayed all,

Seyde, 'Sir, it may not fall;

That ye desire, it may not ryse. 3115

What? wolde ye shende me in this wyse?

A mochel foole than I were,

If I suffrid you awey to bere

The fresh botoun, so fair of sight.

For it were neither skile ne right 3120

Of the roser ye broke the rind,

Or take the rose aforn his kind;

Ye ar not courteys to aske it.

Lat it stil on the roser sit,

And growe til it amended be, 3125

And parfitly come to beaute.

I nolde not that it pulled wer

Fro the roser that it ber,

To me it is so leef and dere.'

With that sterte out anoon Daungere, 3130

Out of the place where he was hid.

His malice in his chere was kid;

Ful greet he was, and blak of hewe,

Sturdy and hidous, who-so him knewe;

Like sharp urchouns his here was growe, 3135

His eyes rede as the fire-glow;

His nose frounced ful kirked stood,

He com criand as he were wood,

And seide, 'Bialacoil, tel me why

Thou bringest hider so boldly 3140

Him that so nygh [is] the roser?

Thou worchist in a wrong maner;

He thenkith to dishonour thee,

Thou art wel worthy to have maugree

To late him of the roser wit; 3145

Who serveth a feloun is yvel quit.

Thou woldist have doon greet bountee,

And he with shame wolde quyte thee.

Flee hennes, felowe! I rede thee go!

It wanteth litel I wol thee slo; 3150

For Bialacoil ne knew thee nought,

Whan thee to serve he sette his thought;

For thou wolt shame him, if thou might,

Bothe ageyn resoun and right.

I wol no more in thee affye, 3155

That comest so slyghly for tespye;

For it preveth wonder wel,

Thy slight and tresoun every del.'

I durst no more ther make abode,

For the cherl, he was so wode; 3160

So gan he threten and manace,

And thurgh the haye he did me chace.

For feer of him I tremblid and quook,

So cherlishly his heed he shook;

And seide, if eft he might me take, 3165

I shulde not from his hondis scape.

Than Bialacoil is fled and mate,

And I al sole, disconsolate,

Was left aloon in peyne and thought;

For shame, to deth I was nygh brought. 3170

Than thought I on myn high foly,

How that my body, utterly,

Was yeve to peyne and to martyre;

And therto hadde I so gret yre,

That I ne durst the hayes passe; 3175

There was non hope, there was no grace.

I trowe never man wiste of peyne,

But he were laced in Loves cheyne;

Ne no man [wot], and sooth it is,

But-if he love, what anger is. 3180

Love holdith his heest to me right wele,

Whan peyne he seide I shulde fele.

Non herte may thenke, ne tunge seyne,

A quarter of my wo and peyne.

I might not with the anger laste; 3185

Myn herte in poynt was for to braste,

Whan I thought on the rose, that so

Was through Daunger cast me froo.

A long whyl stood I in that state,

Til that me saugh so mad and mate 3190

The lady of the highe ward,

Which from hir tour lokid thiderward.

Resoun men clepe that lady,

Which from hir tour deliverly

Come doun to me withouten more. 3195

But she was neither yong, ne hore,

Ne high ne low, ne fat ne lene,

But best, as it were in a mene.

Hir eyen two were cleer and light

As any candel that brenneth bright; 3200

And on hir heed she hadde a crown.

Hir semede wel an high persoun;

For rounde enviroun, hir crownet

Was ful of riche stonis fret.

Hir goodly semblaunt, by devys, 3205

I trowe were maad in paradys;

Nature had never such a grace,

To forge a werk of such compace.

For certeyn, but the letter lye,

God him-silf, that is so high, 3210

Made hir aftir his image,

And yaf hir sith sich avauntage,

That she hath might and seignorye

To kepe men from al folye;

Who-so wole trowe hir lore, 3215

Ne may offenden nevermore.

And whyl I stood thus derk and pale,

Resoun bigan to me hir tale;

She seide: 'Al hayl, my swete frend!

Foly and childhood wol thee shend, 3220

Which thee have put in greet affray;

Thou hast bought dere the tyme of May,

That made thyn herte mery to be.

In yvel tyme thou wentist to see

The gardin, wherof Ydilnesse 3225

Bar the keye, and was maistresse

Whan thou yedest in the daunce

With hir, and haddest aqueyntaunce:

Hir aqueyntaunce is perilous,

First softe, and aftir[ward] noyous; 3230

She hath [thee] trasshed, withoute ween;

The God of Love had thee not seen,

Ne hadde Ydilnesse thee conveyed

In the verger where Mirthe him pleyed.

If Foly have supprised thee, 3235

Do so that it recovered be;

And be wel war to take no more

Counsel, that greveth aftir sore;

He is wys that wol himsilf chastyse.

And though a young man in any wyse 3240

Trespace among, and do foly,

Lat him not tarye, but hastily

Lat him amende what so be mis.

And eek I counseile thee, y-wis,

The God of Love hoolly foryet, 3245

That hath thee in sich peyne set,

And thee in herte tormented so.

I can nat seen how thou mayst go

Other weyes to garisoun;

For Daunger, that is so feloun, 3250

Felly purposith thee to werrey,

Which is ful cruel, the soth to sey.

'And yit of Daunger cometh no blame,

In reward of my doughter Shame,

Which hath the roses in hir warde, 3255

As she that may be no musarde.

And Wikked-Tunge is with these two,

That suffrith no man thider go;

For er a thing be do, he shal,

Where that he cometh, over-al, 3260

In fourty places, if it be sought,

Seye thing that never was doon ne wrought;

So moche tresoun is in his male,

Of falsnesse for to [feyne] a tale.

Thou delest with angry folk, y-wis; 3265

Wherfor to thee [it] bettir is

From these folk awey to fare,

For they wol make thee live in care.

This is the yvel that Love they calle,

Wherin ther is but foly alle, 3270

For love is foly everydel;

Who loveth, in no wyse may do wel,

Ne sette his thought on no good werk.

His scole he lesith, if he be clerk;

Of other craft eek if he be, 3275

He shal not thryve therin; for he

In love shal have more passioun

Than monke, hermyte, or chanoun.

The peyne is hard, out of mesure,

The Ioye may eek no whyl endure; 3280

And in the possessioun

Is muche tribulacioun;

The Ioye it is so short-lasting,

And but in happe is the geting;

For I see ther many in travaille, 3285

That atte laste foule fayle.

I was no-thing thy counseler,

Whan thou were maad the homager

Of God of Love to hastily;

Ther was no wisdom, but foly. 3290

Thyn herte was Ioly, but not sage,

Whan thou were brought in sich a rage,

To yelde thee so redily,

And to Love, of his gret maistry.

'I rede thee Love awey to dryve, 3295

That makith thee recche not of thy lyve.

The foly more fro day to day

Shal growe, but thou it putte away.

Take with thy teeth the bridel faste,

To daunte thyn herte; and eek thee caste, 3300

If that thou mayst, to gete defence

For to redresse thy first offence.

Who-so his herte alwey wol leve,

Shal finde among that shal him greve'

Whan I hir herd thus me chastyse, 3305

I answerd in ful angry wyse.

I prayed hir cessen of hir speche,

Outher to chastyse me or teche,

To bidde me my thought refreyne,

Which Love hath caught in his demeyne:-- 3310

What? wene ye Love wol consent,

That me assailith with bowe bent,

To draw myn herte out of his honde,

Which is so quikly in his bonde?

That ye counsayle, may never be; 3315

For whan he first arested me,

He took myn herte so hool him til,

That it is no-thing at my wil;

He [taughte] it so him for to obey,

That he it sparred with a key. 3320

I pray yow lat me be al stille.

For ye may wel, if that ye wille,

Your wordis waste in idilnesse;

For utterly, withouten gesse,

Al that ye seyn is but in veyne. 3325

Me were lever dye in the peyne,

Than Love to me-ward shulde arette

Falsheed, or tresoun on me sette.

I wol me gete prys or blame,

And love trewe, to save my name; 3330

Who me chastysith, I him hate.'

With that word Resoun wente hir gate,

Whan she saugh for no sermoning

She might me fro my foly bring.

Than dismayed, I lefte al sool, 3335

Forwery, forwandred as a fool,

For I ne knew no chevisaunce.

Than fel into my remembraunce,

How Love bade me to purveye

A felowe, to whom I mighte seye 3340

My counsel and my privete,

For that shulde muche availe me.

With that bithought I me, that I

Hadde a felowe faste by,

Trewe and siker, curteys, and hend, 3345

And he was called by name a Freend;

A trewer felowe was no-wher noon.

In haste to him I wente anoon,

And to him al my wo I tolde,

Fro him right nought I wold withholde. 3350

I tolde him al withoute were,

And made my compleynt on Daungere,

How for to see he was hidous,

And to-me-ward contrarious;

The whiche through his cruelte 3355

Was in poynt to have meygned me;

With Bialacoil whan he me sey

Within the gardyn walke and pley,

Fro me he made him for to go,

And I bilefte aloon in wo; 3360

I durst no lenger with him speke,

For Daunger seide he wolde be wreke,

Whan that he sawe how I wente

The fresshe botoun for to hente,

If I were hardy to come neer 3365

Bitwene the hay and the roser.

This Freend, whan he wiste of my thought,

He discomforted me right nought,

But seide, 'Felowe, be not so mad,

Ne so abaysshed nor bistad. 3370

My-silf I knowe ful wel Daungere,

And how he is feers of his chere,

At prime temps, Love to manace;

Ful ofte I have ben in his caas.

A feloun first though that he be, 3375

Aftir thou shalt him souple see.

Of long passed I knew him wele;

Ungoodly first though men him fele,

He wol meek aftir, in his bering,

Been, for service and obeysshing. 3380

I shal thee telle what thou shalt do.--

Mekely I rede thou go him to,

Of herte pray him specialy

Of thy trespace to have mercy,

And hote him wel, [him] here to plese, 3385

That thou shalt nevermore him displese.

Who can best serve of flatery,

Shal plese Daunger most uttirly.'

My Freend hath seid to me so wel,

That he me esid hath somdel, 3390

And eek allegged of my torment;

For through him had I hardement

Agayn to Daunger for to go,

To preve if I might meke him so.

To Daunger cam I, al ashamed, 3395

The which aforn me hadde blamed,

Desyring for to pese my wo;

But over hegge durst I not go,

For he forbad me the passage.

I fond him cruel in his rage, 3400

And in his hond a gret burdoun.

To him I knelid lowe adoun,

Ful meke of port, and simple of chere,

And seide, 'Sir, I am comen here

Only to aske of you mercy. 3405

That greveth me, [sir], ful gretly

That ever my lyf I wratthed you,

But for to amende I am come now,

With al my might, bothe loude and stille,

To doon right at your owne wille; 3410

For Love made me for to do

That I have trespassed hidirto;

Fro whom I ne may withdrawe myn herte;

Yit shal I never, for Ioy ne smerte,

What so bifalle, good or ille, 3415

Offende more ageyn your wille.

Lever I have endure disese

Than do that shulde you displese.

'I you require and pray, that ye

Of me have mercy and pitee, 3420

To stinte your yre that greveth so,

That I wol swere for evermo

To be redressid at your lyking,

If I trespasse in any thing;

Save that I pray thee graunte me 3425

A thing that may nat warned be,

That I may love, al only;

Non other thing of you aske I.

I shal doon elles wel, y-wis,

If of your grace ye graunte me this. 3430

And ye [ne] may not letten me,

For wel wot ye that love is free,

And I shal loven, [sith] that I wil,

Who-ever lyke it wel or il;

And yit ne wold I, for al Fraunce, 3435

Do thing to do you displesaunce.'

Than Daunger fil in his entent

For to foryeve his maltalent;

But al his wratthe yit at laste

He hath relesed, I preyde so faste: 3440

Shortly he seide, 'Thy request

Is not to mochel dishonest;

Ne I wol not werne it thee,

For yit no-thing engreveth me.

For though thou love thus evermore, 3445

To me is neither softe ne sore.

Love wher thee list; what recchith me,

So [thou] fer fro my roses be?

Trust not on me, for noon assay,

In any tyme to passe the hay.' 3450

Thus hath he graunted my prayere.

Than wente I forth, withouten were,

Unto my Freend, and tolde him al,

Which was right Ioyful of my tale.

He seide, 'Now goth wel thyn affaire, 3455

He shal to thee be debonaire.

Though he aforn was dispitous,

He shal heeraftir be gracious.

If he were touchid on som good veyne,

He shuld yit rewen on thy peyne. 3460

Suffire, I rede, and no boost make,

Til thou at good mes mayst him take.

By suffraunce, and [by] wordis softe,

A man may overcomen ofte

Him that aforn he hadde in drede, 3465

In bookis sothly as I rede.'

Thus hath my Freend with gret comfort

Avaunced me with high disport,

Which wolde me good as mich as I.

And thanne anoon ful sodeynly 3470

I took my leve, and streight I went

Unto the hay; for gret talent

I had to seen the fresh botoun,

Wherin lay my salvacioun;

And Daunger took kepe, if that I 3475

Kepe him covenaunt trewly.

So sore I dradde his manasing,

I durst not breke[n] his bidding;

For, lest that I were of him shent,

I brak not his comaundement, 3480

For to purchase his good wil.

It was [hard] for to come ther-til,

His mercy was to fer bihinde;

I wepte, for I ne might it finde.

I compleyned and sighed sore, 3485

And languisshed evermore,

For I durst not over go

Unto the rose I loved so.

Thurghout my deming outerly,

[Than] had he knowlege certeinly, 3490

[That] Love me ladde in sich a wyse,

That in me ther was no feyntyse,

Falsheed, ne no trecherye.

And yit he, ful of vilanye,

Of disdeyne, and cruelte, 3495

On me ne wolde have pite,

His cruel wil for to refreyne,

Though I wepe alwey, and compleyne.

And while I was in this torment,

Were come of grace, by god sent, 3500

Fraunchyse, and with hir Pite

Fulfild the botoun of bountee.

They go to Daunger anon-right

To forther me with al hir might,

And helpe in worde and in dede, 3505

For wel they saugh that it was nede.

First, of hir grace, dame Fraunchyse

Hath taken [word] of this empryse:

She seide, 'Daunger, gret wrong ye do

To worche this man so muche wo, 3510

Or pynen him so angerly;

It is to you gret vilany.

I can not see why, ne how,

That he hath trespassed ageyn you,

Save that he loveth; wherfore ye shulde 3515

The more in cherete of him holde.

The force of love makith him do this;

Who wolde him blame he dide amis?

He leseth more than ye may do;

His peyne is hard, ye may see, lo! 3520

And Love in no wyse wolde consente

That [he] have power to repente;

For though that quik ye wolde him sloo,

Fro Love his herte may not go.

Now, swete sir, is it your ese 3525

Him for to angre or disese?

Allas, what may it you avaunce

To doon to him so greet grevaunce?

What worship is it agayn him take,

Or on your man a werre make, 3530

Sith he so lowly every wyse

Is redy, as ye lust devyse?

If Love hath caught him in his lace,

You for tobeye in every caas,

And been your suget at your wille, 3535

Shulde ye therfore willen him ille?

Ye shulde him spare more, al-out,

Than him that is bothe proud and stout.

Curtesye wol that ye socour

Hem that ben meke undir your cure. 3540

His herte is hard, that wole not meke,

Whan men of mekenesse him biseke.'

'That is certeyn,' seide Pite;

We see ofte that humilitee

Bothe ire, and also felonye 3545

Venquissheth, and also melancolye;

To stonde forth in such duresse,

This crueltee and wikkednesse.

Wherfore I pray you, sir Daungere,

For to mayntene no lenger here 3550

Such cruel werre agayn your man,

As hoolly youres as ever he can;

Nor that ye worchen no more wo

On this caytif that languisshith so,

Which wol no more to you trespasse, 3555

But put him hoolly in your grace.

His offense ne was but lyte;

The God of Love it was to wyte,

That he your thral so gretly is,

And if ye harm him, ye doon amis; 3560

For he hath had ful hard penaunce,

Sith that ye refte him thaqueyntaunce

Of Bialacoil, his moste Ioye,

Which alle his peynes might acoye.

He was biforn anoyed sore, 3565

But than ye doubled him wel more;

For he of blis hath ben ful bare,

Sith Bialacoil was fro him fare.

Love hath to him do greet distresse,

He hath no nede of more duresse. 3570

Voideth from him your ire, I rede;

Ye may not winnen in this dede.

Makith Bialacoil repeire ageyn,

And haveth pite upon his peyn;

For Fraunchise wol, and I, Pite, 3575

That merciful to him ye be;

And sith that she and I accorde,

Have upon him misericorde;

For I you pray, and eek moneste,

Nought to refusen our requeste; 3580

For he is hard and fel of thought,

That for us two wol do right nought.'

Daunger ne might no more endure,

He meked him unto mesure.

'I wol in no wyse,' seith Daungere, 3585

Denye that ye have asked here;

It were to greet uncurtesye.

I wol ye have the companye

Of Bialacoil, as ye devyse;

I wol him letten in no wyse.' 3590

To Bialacoil than wente in hy

Fraunchyse, and seide ful curteisly:--

Ye have to longe be deignous

Unto this lover, and daungerous,

Fro him to withdrawe your presence, 3595

Which hath do to him grete offence,

That ye not wolde upon him see;

Wherfore a sorowful man is he.

Shape ye to paye him, and to plese,

Of my love if ye wol have ese. 3600

Fulfil his wil, sith that ye knowe

Daunger is daunted and brought lowe

Thurgh help of me and of Pite;

You [thar] no more afered be.'

'I shal do right as ye wil,' 3605

Saith Bialacoil, 'for it is skil,

Sith Daunger wol that it so be.'

Than Fraunchise hath him sent to me.

Bialacoil at the biginning

Salued me in his coming. 3610

No straungenes was in him seen,

No more than he ne had wrathed been.

As faire semblaunt than shewed he me,

And goodly, as aforn did he;

And by the honde, withouten doute, 3615

Within the haye, right al aboute

He ladde me, with right good chere,

Al environ the vergere,

That Daunger had me chased fro.

Now have I leve over-al to go; 3620

Now am I raised, at my devys,

Fro helle unto paradys.

Thus Bialacoil, of gentilnesse,

With alle his peyne and besinesse,

Hath shewed me, only of grace, 3625

The estres of the swote place.

I saw the rose, whan I was nigh,

Was gretter woxen, and more high,

Fresh, rody, and fair of hewe,

Of colour ever yliche newe. 3630

And whan I had it longe seen,

I saugh that through the leves grene

The rose spredde to spanishing;

To sene it was a goodly thing.

But it ne was so spred on brede, 3635

That men within might knowe the sede;

For it covert was and [en]close

Bothe with the leves and with the rose.

The stalk was even and grene upright,

It was theron a goodly sight; 3640

And wel the better, withouten wene,

For the seed was not [y]-sene.

Ful faire it spradde, [god it] blesse!

For suche another, as I gesse,

Aforn ne was, ne more vermayle. 3645

I was abawed for merveyle,

For ever, the fairer that it was,

The more I am bounden in Loves laas.

Longe I abood there, soth to saye,

Til Bialacoil I gan to praye, 3650

Whan that I saw him in no wyse

To me warnen his servyse,

That he me wolde graunte a thing,

Which to remembre is wel sitting;

This is to sayne, that of his grace 3655

He wolde me yeve leyser and space

To me that was so desirous

To have a kissing precious

Of the goodly freshe rose,

That swetely smelleth in my nose; 3660

For if it you displesed nought,

I wolde gladly, as I have sought,

Have a cos therof freely

Of your yeft; for certainly

I wol non have but by your leve, 3665

So loth me were you for to greve.'

He sayde, 'Frend, so god me spede,

Of Chastite I have suche drede,

Thou shuldest not warned be for me,

But I dar not, for Chastite. 3670

Agayn hir dar I not misdo,

For alwey biddeth she me so

To yeve no lover leve to kisse;

For who therto may winnen, y-wis,

He of the surplus of the pray 3675

May live in hope to get som day.

For who so kissing may attayne,

Of loves peyne hath, soth to sayne,

The beste and most avenaunt,

And ernest of the remenaunt.' 3680

Of his answere I syghed sore;

I durst assaye him tho no more,

I had such drede to greve him ay.

A man shulde not to muche assaye

To chafe his frend out of mesure, 3685

Nor put his lyf in aventure;

For no man at the firste stroke

Ne may nat felle doun an oke;

Nor of the reisins have the wyne,

Til grapes rype and wel afyne 3690

Be sore empressid, I you ensure,

And drawen out of the pressure.

But I, forpeyned wonder stronge,

[Thought] that I abood right longe

Aftir the kis, in peyne and wo, 3695

Sith I to kis desyred so:

Til that, [rewing] on my distresse,

Ther [to me] Venus the goddesse,

Which ay werreyeth Chastite,

Came of hir grace, to socoure me, 3700

Whos might is knowe fer and wyde,

For she is modir of Cupyde,

The God of Love, blinde as stoon,

That helpith lovers many oon.

This lady brought in hir right hond 3705

Of brenning fyr a blasing brond;

Wherof the flawme and hote fyr

Hath many a lady in desyr

Of love brought, and sore het,

And in hir servise hir hertes set. 3710

This lady was of good entayle,

Right wondirful of apparayle;

By hir atyre so bright and shene,

Men might perceyve wel, and seen,

She was not of religioun. 3715

Nor I nil make mencioun

Nor of [hir] robe, nor of tresour,

Of broche, [nor] of hir riche attour;

Ne of hir girdil aboute hir syde,

For that I nil not long abyde. 3720

But knowith wel, that certeynly

She was arayed richely.

Devoyd of pryde certeyn she was;

To Bialacoil she wente a pas,

And to him shortly, in a clause, 3725

She seide: 'Sir, what is the cause

Ye been of port so daungerous

Unto this lover, and deynous,

To graunte him no-thing but a kis?

To werne it him ye doon amis; 3730

Sith wel ye wote, how that he

Is Loves servaunt, as ye may see,

And hath beaute, wher-through [he] is

Worthy of love to have the blis.

How he is semely, biholde and see, 3735

How he is fair, how he is free,

How he is swote and debonair,

Of age yong, lusty, and fair.

Ther is no lady so hauteyne,

Duchesse, countesse, ne chasteleyne, 3740

That I nolde holde hir ungoodly

For to refuse him outerly.

His breeth is also good and swete,

And eke his lippis rody, and mete

Only to pleyen, and to kisse. 3745

Graunte him a kis, of gentilnesse!

His teeth arn also whyte and clene;

Me thinkith wrong, withouten wene,

If ye now werne him, trustith me,

To graunte that a kis have he; 3750

The lasse [to] helpe him that ye haste,

The more tyme shul ye waste.'

Whan the flawme of the verry brond,

That Venus brought in hir right hond,

Had Bialacoil with hete smete, 3755

Anoon he bad, withouten lette,

Graunte to me the rose kisse.

Than of my peyne I gan to lisse,

And to the rose anoon wente I,

And kissid it ful feithfully. 3760

Thar no man aske if I was blythe,

Whan the savour soft and lythe

Strook to myn herte withoute more,

And me alegged of my sore,

So was I ful of Ioye and blisse. 3765

It is fair sich a flour to kisse,

It was so swote and saverous.

I might not be so anguisshous,

That I mote glad and Ioly be,

Whan that I remembre me. 3770

Yit ever among, sothly to seyn,

I suffre noye and moche peyn.

The see may never be so stil,

That with a litel winde it [nil]

Overwhelme and turne also, 3775

As it were wood, in wawis go.

Aftir the calm the trouble sone

Mot folowe, and chaunge as the mone.

Right so farith Love, that selde in oon

Holdith his anker; for right anoon 3780

Whan they in ese wene best to live,

They been with tempest al fordrive.

Who serveth Love, can telle of wo;

The stoundemele Ioye mot overgo.

Now he hurteth, and now he cureth, 3785

For selde in oo poynt Love endureth.

Now is it right me to procede,

How Shame gan medle and take hede,

Thurgh whom felle angres I have had;

And how the stronge wal was maad, 3790

And the castell of brede and lengthe,

That God of Love wan with his strengthe.

Al this in romance wil I sette,

And for no-thing ne wil I lette,

So that it lyking to hir be, 3795

That is the flour of beaute;

For she may best my labour quyte,

That I for hir love shal endyte.

Wikkid-Tunge, that the covyne

Of every lover can devyne 3800

Worst, and addith more somdel,

(For Wikkid-Tunge seith never wel),

To me-ward bar he right gret hate,

Espying me erly and late,

Til he hath seen the grete chere 3805

Of Bialacoil and me y-fere.

He mighte not his tunge withstonde

Worse to reporte than he fonde,

He was so ful of cursed rage;

It sat him wel of his linage, 3810

For him an Irish womman bar.

His tunge was fyled sharp, and squar,

Poignaunt and right kerving,

And wonder bitter in speking.

For whan that he me gan espye, 3815

He swoor, afferming sikirly,

Bitwene Bialacoil and me

Was yvel aquayntaunce and privee.

He spak therof so folily,

That he awakid Ielousy; 3820

Which, al afrayed in his rysing,

Whan that he herde [him] Iangling,

He ran anoon, as he were wood,

To Bialacoil ther that he stood;

Which hadde lever in this caas 3825

Have been at Reynes or Amyas;

For foot-hoot, in his felonye

To him thus seide Ielousye:--

Why hast thou been so necligent,

To kepen, whan I was absent, 3830

This verger here left in thy ward?

To me thou haddist no reward,

To truste (to thy confusioun)

Him thus, to whom suspeccioun

I have right greet, for it is nede; 3835

It is wel shewed by the dede.

Greet faute in thee now have I founde;

By god, anoon thou shalt be bounde,

And faste loken in a tour,

Withoute refuyt or socour. 3840

For Shame to long hath be thee fro;

Over sone she was agoo.

Whan thou hast lost bothe drede and fere,

It semed wel she was not here.

She was [not] bisy, in no wyse, 3845

To kepe thee and [to] chastyse,

And for to helpen Chastitee

To kepe the roser, as thinkith me.

For than this boy-knave so boldely

Ne sholde not have be hardy, 3850

[Ne] in this verger had such game,

Which now me turneth to gret shame.'

Bialacoil nist what to sey;

Ful fayn he wolde have fled awey,

For fere han hid, nere that he 3855

Al sodeynly took him with me.

And whan I saugh he hadde so,

This Ielousye, take us two,

I was astoned, and knew no rede,

But fledde awey for verrey drede. 3860

Than Shame cam forth ful simply;

She wende have trespaced ful gretly;

Humble of hir port, and made it simple,

Wering a vayle in stede of wimple,

As nonnis doon in hir abbey. 3865

Bicause hir herte was in affray,

She gan to speke, within a throwe,

To Ielousye, right wonder lowe.

First of his grace she bisought,

And seide:--'Sire, ne leveth nought 3870

Wikkid-Tunge, that fals espye,

Which is so glad to feyne and lye.

He hath you maad, thurgh flatering,

On Bialacoil a fals lesing.

His falsnesse is not now anew, 3875

It is to long that he him knew.

This is not the firste day;

For Wikkid-Tunge hath custom ay

Yongé folkis to bewreye,

And false lesinges on hem leye. 3880

'Yit nevertheles I see among,

That the loigne it is so longe

Of Bialacoil, hertis to lure,

In Loves servise for to endure,

Drawing suche folk him to, 3885

That he had no-thing with to do;

But in sothnesse I trowe nought,

That Bialacoil hadde ever in thought

To do trespace or vilanye;

But, for his modir Curtesye 3890

Hath taught him ever [for] to be

Good of aqueyntaunce and privee;

For he loveth non hevinesse,

But mirthe and pley, and al gladnesse;

He hateth alle [trecherous], 3895

Soleyn folk and envious;

For [wel] ye witen how that he

Wol ever glad and Ioyful be

Honestly with folk to pley.

I have be negligent, in good fey, 3900

To chastise him; therfore now I

Of herte crye you here mercy,

That I have been so recheles

To tamen him, withouten lees.

Of my foly I me repente; 3905

Now wol I hool sette myn entente

To kepe, bothe [loude] and stille,

Bialacoil to do your wille.'

'Shame, Shame,' seyde Ielousy,

'To be bitrasshed gret drede have I. 3910

Lecherye hath clombe so hye,

That almost blered is myn ye;

No wonder is, if that drede have I.

Over-al regnith Lechery,

Whos might [yit] growith night and day. 3915

Bothe in cloistre and in abbey

Chastite is werreyed over-al.

Therfore I wol with siker wal

Close bothe roses and roser.

I have to longe in this maner 3920

Left hem unclosid wilfully;

Wherfore I am right inwardly

Sorowful and repente me.

But now they shal no lenger be

Unclosid; and yit I drede sore, 3925

I shal repente ferthermore,

For the game goth al amis.

Counsel I [mot take] newe, y-wis.

I have to longe tristed thee,

But now it shal no lenger be; 3930

For he may best, in every cost,

Disceyve, that men tristen most.

I see wel that I am nygh shent,

But-if I sette my ful entent

Remedye to purveye. 3935

Therfore close I shal the weye

Fro hem that wol the rose espye,

And come to wayte me vilanye,

For, in good feith and in trouthe,

I wol not lette, for no slouthe, 3940

To live the more in sikirnesse,

[To] make anoon a forteresse,

[To enclose] the roses of good savour.

In middis shal I make a tour

To putte Bialacoil in prisoun, 3945

For ever I drede me of tresoun.

I trowe I shal him kepe so,

That he shal have no might to go

Aboute to make companye

To hem that thenke of vilanye; 3950

Ne to no such as hath ben here

Aforn, and founde in him good chere,

Which han assailed him to shende,

And with hir trowandyse to blende.

A fool is eyth [for] to bigyle; 3955

But may I lyve a litel while,

He shal forthenke his fair semblaunt.'

And with that word cam Drede avaunt,

Which was abasshed, and in gret fere,

Whan he wiste Ielousye was there. 3960

He was for drede in such affray,

That not a word durste he say,

But quaking stood ful stille aloon,

Til Ielousye his wey was goon,

Save Shame, that him not forsook; 3965

Bothe Drede and she ful sore quook;

[Til] that at laste Drede abreyde,

And to his cosin Shame seyde:

Shame,' he seide, 'in sothfastnesse,

To me it is gret hevinesse, 3970

That the noyse so fer is go,

And the sclaundre of us two.

But sith that it is [so] bifalle,

We may it not ageyn [do] calle,

Whan onis sprongen is a fame. 3975

For many a yeer withouten blame

We han been, and many a day;

For many an April and many a May

We han [y]-passed, not [a]shamed,

Til Ielousye hath us blamed 3980

Of mistrust and suspecioun

Causeles, withouten enchesoun.

Go we to Daunger hastily,

And late us shewe him openly,

That he hath not aright [y]-wrought, 3985

Whan that he sette nought his thought

To kepe better the purpryse;

In his doing he is not wyse.

He hath to us [y]-do gret wrong,

That hath suffred now so long 3990

Bialacoil to have his wille,

Alle his lustes to fulfille.

He must amende it utterly,

Or ellis shal he vilaynsly

Exyled be out of this londe; 3995

For he the werre may not withstonde

Of Ielousye, nor the greef,

Sith Bialacoil is at mischeef.'

To Daunger, Shame and Drede anoon

The righte wey ben [bothe a]-goon. 4000

The cherl they founden hem aforn

Ligging undir an hawethorn.

Undir his heed no pilowe was,

But in the stede a trusse of gras.

He slombred, and a nappe he took, 4005

Til Shame pitously him shook,

And greet manace on him gan make.

Why slepist thou whan thou shulde wake?'

Quod Shame; 'thou dost us vilanye!

Who tristith thee, he doth folye, 4010

To kepe roses or botouns,

Whan they ben faire in hir sesouns.

Thou art woxe to familiere

Where thou shulde be straunge of chere,

Stout of thy port, redy to greve. 4015

Thou dost gret foly for to leve

Bialacoil here-in, to calle

The yonder man to shenden us alle.

Though that thou slepe, we may here

Of Ielousie gret noyse here. 4020

Art thou now late? ryse up [in hy],

And stoppe sone and deliverly

Alle the gappis of the hay;

Do no favour, I thee pray.

It fallith no-thing to thy name 4025

Make fair semblaunt, where thou maist blame.

'If Bialacoil be swete and free,

Dogged and fel thou shuldist be;

Froward and outrageous, y-wis;

A cherl chaungeth that curteis is. 4030

This have I herd ofte in seying,

That man [ne] may, for no daunting,

Make a sperhauke of a bosarde.

Alle men wole holde thee for musarde,

That debonair have founden thee, 4035

It sit thee nought curteis to be;

To do men plesaunce or servyse,

In thee it is recreaundyse.

Let thy werkis, fer and nere,

Be lyke thy name, which is Daungere.' 4040

Than, al abawid in shewing,

Anoon spak Dreed, right thus seying,

And seide, 'Daunger, I drede me

That thou ne wolt [not] bisy be

To kepe that thou hast to kepe; 4045

Whan thou shuldist wake, thou art aslepe.

Thou shalt be greved certeynly,

If thee aspye Ielousy,

Or if he finde thee in blame.

He hath to-day assailed Shame, 4050

And chased awey, with gret manace,

Bialacoil out of this place,

And swereth shortly that he shal

Enclose him in a sturdy wal;

And al is for thy wikkednesse, 4055

For that thee faileth straungenesse.

Thyn herte, I trowe, be failed al;

Thou shalt repente in special,

If Ielousye the sothe knewe;

Thou shalt forthenke, and sore rewe.' 4060

With that the cherl his clubbe gan shake,

Frouning his eyen gan to make,

And hidous chere; as man in rage,

For ire he brente in his visage.

Whan that he herde him blamed so, 4065

He seide, 'Out of my wit I go;

To be discomfit I have gret wrong.

Certis, I have now lived to long,

Sith I may not this closer kepe;

Al quik I wolde be dolven depe, 4070

If any man shal more repeire

Into this garden, for foule or faire.

Myn herte for ire goth a-fere,

That I lete any entre here.

I have do foly, now I see, 4075

But now it shal amended bee.

Who settith foot here any more,

Truly, he shal repente it sore;

For no man mo into this place

Of me to entre shal have grace. 4080

Lever I hadde, with swerdis tweyne,

Thurgh-out myn herte, in every veyne

Perced to be, with many a wounde,

Than slouthe shulde in me be founde.

From hennesforth, by night or day, 4085

I shal defende it, if I may,

Withouten any excepcioun

Of ech maner condicioun;

And if I any man it graunte,

Holdeth me for recreaunte.' 4090

Than Daunger on his feet gan stonde,

And hente a burdoun in his honde.

Wroth in his ire, ne lefte he nought,

But thurgh the verger he hath sought.

If he might finde hole or trace, 4095

Wher-thurgh that men mot forth-by pace,

Or any gappe, he dide it close,

That no man mighte touche a rose

Of the roser al aboute;

He shitteth every man withoute. 4100

Thus day by day Daunger is wers,

More wondirful and more divers,

And feller eek than ever he was;

For him ful oft I singe 'allas!'

For I ne may nought, thurgh his ire, 4105

Recover that I most desire.

Myn herte, allas, wol brest a-two,

For Bialacoil I wratthed so.

For certeynly, in every membre

I quake, whan I me remembre 4110

Of the botoun, which [that] I wolde

Fulle ofte a day seen and biholde.

And whan I thenke upon the kisse,

And how muche Ioye and blisse

I hadde thurgh the savour swete, 4115

For wante of it I grone and grete.

Me thenkith I fele yit in my nose

The swete savour of the rose.

And now I woot that I mot go

So fer the fresshe floures fro, 4120

To me ful welcome were the deeth;

Absens therof, allas, me sleeth!

For whylom with this rose, allas,

I touched nose, mouth, and face;

But now the deeth I must abyde. 4125

But Love consente, another tyde,

That onis I touche may and kisse,

I trowe my peyne shal never lisse.

Theron is al my coveityse,

Which brent myn herte in many wyse. 4130

Now shal repaire agayn sighinge,

Long wacche on nightis, and no slepinge;

Thought in wisshing, torment, and wo,

With many a turning to and fro,

That half my peyne I can not telle. 4135

For I am fallen into helle

From paradys and welthe, the more

My turment greveth; more and more

Anoyeth now the bittirnesse,

That I toforn have felt swetnesse. 4140

And Wikkid-Tunge, thurgh his falshede,

Causeth al my wo and drede.

On me he leyeth a pitous charge,

Bicause his tunge was to large.

Now it is tyme, shortly that I 4145

Telle you som-thing of Ielousy,

That was in gret suspecioun.

Aboute him lefte he no masoun,

That stoon coude leye, ne querrour;

He hired hem to make a tour. 4150

And first, the roses for to kepe,

Aboute hem made he a diche depe,

Right wondir large, and also brood;

Upon the whiche also stood

Of squared stoon a sturdy wal, 4155

Which on a cragge was founded al,

And right gret thikkenesse eek it bar.

Abouten, it was founded squar,

An hundred fadome on every syde,

It was al liche longe and wyde. 4160

Lest any tyme it were assayled,

Ful wel aboute it was batayled;

And rounde enviroun eek were set

Ful many a riche and fair touret.

At every corner of this wal 4165

Was set a tour ful principal;

And everich hadde, withoute fable,

A porte-colys defensable

To kepe of enemies, and to greve,

That there hir force wolde preve. 4170

And eek amidde this purpryse

Was maad a tour of gret maistryse;

A fairer saugh no man with sight,

Large and wyde, and of gret might.

They [ne] dredde noon assaut 4175

Of ginne, gunne, nor skaffaut.

[For] the temprure of the mortere

Was maad of licour wonder dere;

Of quikke lyme persant and egre,

The which was tempred with vinegre. 4180

The stoon was hard [as] ademant,

Wherof they made the foundement.

The tour was rounde, maad in compas;

In al this world no richer was,

Ne better ordeigned therwithal. 4185

Aboute the tour was maad a wal,

So that, bitwixt that and the tour,

Rosers were set of swete savour,

With many roses that they bere.

And eek within the castel were 4190

Springoldes, gunnes, bows, archers;

And eek above, atte corners,

Men seyn over the walle stonde

Grete engynes, [whiche] were nigh honde;

And in the kernels, here and there, 4195

Of arblasters gret plentee were.

Noon armure might hir stroke withstonde,

It were foly to prece to honde.

Without the diche were listes made,

With walles batayled large and brade, 4200

For men and hors shulde not atteyne

To neigh the diche over the pleyne.

Thus Ielousye hath enviroun

Set aboute his garnisoun

With walles rounde, and diche depe, 4205

Only the roser for to kepe.

And Daunger [eek], erly and late

The keyes kepte of the utter gate,

The which openeth toward the eest.

And he hadde with him atte leest 4210

Thritty servauntes, echon by name.

That other gate kepte Shame,

Which openede, as it was couth,

Toward the parte of the south.

Sergeauntes assigned were hir to 4215

Ful many, hir wille for to do.

Than Drede hadde in hir baillye

The keping of the conestablerye,

Toward the north, I undirstonde,

That opened upon the left honde, 4220

The which for no-thing may be sure,

But-if she do [hir] bisy cure

Erly on morowe and also late,

Strongly to shette and barre the gate.

Of every thing that she may see 4225

Drede is aferd, wher-so she be;

For with a puff of litel winde

Drede is astonied in hir minde.

Therfore, for stelinge of the rose,

I rede hir nought the yate unclose. 4230

A foulis flight wol make hir flee,

And eek a shadowe, if she it see.

Thanne Wikked-Tunge, ful of envye,

With soudiours of Normandye,

As he that causeth al the bate, 4235

Was keper of the fourthe gate,

And also to the tother three

He went ful ofte, for to see.

Whan his lot was to wake a-night,

His instrumentis wolde he dight, 4240

For to blowe and make soun,

Ofter than he hath enchesoun;

And walken oft upon the wal,

Corners and wikettis over-al

Ful narwe serchen and espye; 4245

Though he nought fond, yit wolde he lye.

Discordaunt ever fro armonye,

And distoned from melodye,

Controve he wolde, and foule fayle,

With hornpypes of Cornewayle. 4250

In floytes made he discordaunce,

And in his musik, with mischaunce,

He wolde seyn, with notes newe,

That he [ne] fond no womman trewe,

Ne that he saugh never, in his lyf, 4255

Unto hir husbonde a trewe wyf;

Ne noon so ful of honestee,

That she nil laughe and mery be

Whan that she hereth, or may espye,

A man speken of lecherye. 4260

Everich of hem hath somme vyce;

Oon is dishonest, another is nyce;

If oon be ful of vilanye,

Another hath a likerous ye;

If oon be ful of wantonesse, 4265

Another is a chideresse.

Thus Wikked-Tunge (god yeve him shame!)

Can putte hem everichone in blame

Withoute desert and causeles;

He lyeth, though they been giltles. 4270

I have pite to seen the sorwe,

That waketh bothe eve and morwe,

To innocents doth such grevaunce;

I pray god yeve him evel chaunce,

That he ever so bisy is 4275

Of any womman to seyn amis!

Eek Ielousye god confounde,

That hath [y]-maad a tour so rounde,

And made aboute a garisoun

To sette Bialacoil in prisoun; 4280

The which is shet there in the tour,

Ful longe to holde there soiour,

There for to liven in penaunce.

And for to do him more grevaunce,

[Ther] hath ordeyned Ielousye 4285

An olde vekke, for to espye

The maner of his governaunce;

The whiche devel, in hir enfaunce,

Had lerned [muche] of Loves art,

And of his pleyes took hir part; 4290

She was [expert] in his servyse.

She knew ech wrenche and every gyse

Of love, and every [loveres] wyle,

It was [the] harder hir to gyle.

Of Bialacoil she took ay hede, 4295

That ever he liveth in wo and drede.

He kepte him coy and eek privee,

Lest in him she hadde see

Any foly countenaunce,

For she knew al the olde daunce. 4300

And aftir this, whan Ielousye

Had Bialacoil in his baillye,

And shette him up that was so free,

For seure of him he wolde be,

He trusteth sore in his castel; 4305

The stronge werk him lyketh wel.

He dradde nat that no glotouns

Shulde stele his roses or botouns.

The roses weren assured alle,

Defenced with the stronge walle. 4310

Now Ielousye ful wel may be

Of drede devoid, in libertee,

Whether that he slepe or wake;

For of his roses may noon be take.

But I, allas, now morne shal; 4315

Bicause I was without the wal,

Ful moche dole and mone I made.

Who hadde wist what wo I hadde,

I trowe he wolde have had pitee.

Love to deere had sold to me 4320

The good that of his love hadde I.

I [wende a bought] it al queyntly;

But now, thurgh doubling of my peyn,

I see he wolde it selle ageyn,

And me a newe bargeyn lere, 4325

The which al-out the more is dere,

For the solace that I have lorn,

Than I hadde it never aforn.

Certayn I am ful lyk, indeed,

To him that cast in erthe his seed; 4330

And hath Ioie of the newe spring,

Whan it greneth in the ginning,

And is also fair and fresh of flour,

Lusty to seen, swote of odour;

But er he it in sheves shere, 4335

May falle a weder that shal it dere,

And maken it to fade and falle,

The stalk, the greyn, and floures alle;

That to the tilier is fordone

The hope that he hadde to sone. 4340

I drede, certeyn, that so fare I;

For hope and travaile sikerly

Ben me biraft al with a storm;

The floure nil seden of my corn.

For Love hath so avaunced me, 4345

Whan I bigan my privitee

To Bialacoil al for to telle,

Whom I ne fond froward ne felle,

But took a-gree al hool my play.

But Love is of so hard assay, 4350

That al at onis he reved me,

Whan I wend best aboven have be.

It is of Love, as of Fortune,

That chaungeth ofte, and nil contune;

Which whylom wol on folke smyle, 4355

And gloumbe on hem another whyle;

Now freend, now foo, [thou] shalt hir fele,

For [in] a twinkling tourneth hir wheel.

She can wrythe hir heed awey,

This is the concours of hir pley; 4360

She can areyse that doth morne,

And whirle adown, and overturne

Who sittith hieghst, [al] as hir list;

A fool is he that wol hir trist.

For it [am] I that am com doun 4365

Thurgh change and revolucioun!

Sith Bialacoil mot fro me twinne,

Shet in the prisoun yond withinne,

His absence at myn herte I fele;

For al my Ioye and al myn hele 4370

Was in him and in the rose,

That but yon [wal], which him doth close,

Open, that I may him see,

Love nil not that I cured be

Of the peynes that I endure, 4375

Nor of my cruel aventure.

A, Bialacoil, myn owne dere!

Though thou be now a prisonere,

Kepe atte leste thyn herte to me,

And suffre not that it daunted be; 4380

Ne lat not Ielousye, in his rage,

Putten thyn herte in no servage.

Although he chastice thee withoute,

And make thy body unto him loute,

Have herte as hard as dyamaunt, 4385

Stedefast, and nought pliaunt;

In prisoun though thy body be,

At large kepe thyn herte free.

A trewe herte wol not plye

For no manace that it may drye. 4390

If Ielousye doth thee payne,

Quyte him his whyle thus agayne,

To venge thee, atte leest in thought,

If other way thou mayest nought;

And in this wyse sotilly 4395

Worche, and winne the maistry.

But yit I am in gret affray

Lest thou do not as I say;

I drede thou canst me greet maugree,

That thou emprisoned art for me; 4400

But that [is] not for my trespas,

For thurgh me never discovered was

Yit thing that oughte be secree.

Wel more anoy [ther] is in me,

Than is in thee, of this mischaunce; 4405

For I endure more hard penaunce

Than any [man] can seyn or thinke,

That for the sorwe almost I sinke.

Whan I remembre me of my wo,

Ful nygh out of my wit I go. 4410

Inward myn herte I fele blede,

For comfortles the deeth I drede.

Ow I not wel to have distresse,

Whan false, thurgh hir wikkednesse,

And traitours, that arn envyous, 4415

To noyen me be so coragious?

A, Bialacoil! ful wel I see,

That they hem shape to disceyve thee,

To make thee buxom to hir lawe,

And with hir corde thee to drawe 4420

Wher-so hem lust, right at hir wil;

I drede they have thee brought thertil.

Withoute comfort, thought me sleeth;

This game wol bringe me to my deeth.

For if your gode wille I lese, 4425

I mote be deed; I may not chese.

And if that thou foryete me,

Myn herte shal never in lyking be;

Nor elles-where finde solace,

If I be put out of your grace, 4430

As it shal never been, I hope;

Than shulde I fallen in wanhope.

[_Here, at_ l. 4070 _of the_ French text, _ends the work of_ G. de Lorris;

_and begins the work of_ Jean de Meun.]

Allas, in wanhope?--nay, pardee!

For I wol never dispeired be.

If Hope me faile, than am I 4435

Ungracious and unworthy;

In Hope I wol comforted be,

For Love, whan he bitaught hir me,

Seide, that Hope, wher-so I go,

Shulde ay be relees to my wo. 4440

But what and she my balis bete,

And be to me curteis and swete?

She is in no-thing ful certeyn.

Lovers she put in ful gret peyn,

And makith hem with wo to dele. 4445

Hir fair biheest disceyveth fele,

For she wol bihote, sikirly,

And failen aftir outrely.

A! that is a ful noyous thing!

For many a lover, in loving, 4450

Hangeth upon hir, and trusteth fast,

Whiche lese hir travel at the last.

Of thing to comen she woot right nought;

Therfore, if it be wysly sought,

Hir counseille, foly is to take. 4455

For many tymes, whan she wol make

A ful good silogisme, I drede

That aftirward ther shal in dede

Folwe an evel conclusioun;

This put me in confusioun. 4460

For many tymes I have it seen,

That many have bigyled been,

For trust that they have set in Hope,

Which fel hem aftirward a-slope.

But natheles yit, gladly she wolde, 4465

That he, that wol him with hir holde,

Hadde alle tymes [his] purpos clere,

Withoute deceyte, or any were.

That she desireth sikirly;

Whan I hir blamed, I did foly. 4470

But what avayleth hir good wille,

Whan she ne may staunche my stounde ille?

That helpith litel, that she may do,

Outake biheest unto my wo.

And heeste certeyn, in no wyse, 4475

Withoute yift, is not to pryse.

Whan heest and deed a-sundir varie,

They doon [me have] a gret contrarie.

Thus am I possed up and doun

With dool, thought, and confusioun; 4480

Of my disese ther is no noumbre.

Daunger and Shame me encumbre,

Drede also, and Ielousye,

And Wikked-Tunge, ful of envye,

Of whiche the sharpe and cruel ire 4485

Ful oft me put in gret martire.

They han my Ioye fully let,

Sith Bialacoil they have bishet

Fro me in prisoun wikkidly,

Whom I love so entierly, 4490

That it wol my bane be,

But I the soner may him see.

And yit moreover, wurst of alle,

Ther is set to kepe, foule hir bifalle!

A rimpled vekke, fer ronne in age, 4495

Frowning and yelowe in hir visage,

Which in awayte lyth day and night,

That noon of hem may have a sight.

Now moot my sorwe enforced be;

Ful soth it is, that Love yaf me 4500

Three wonder yiftes of his grace,

Which I have lorn now in this place,

Sith they ne may, withoute drede

Helpen but litel, who taketh hede.

For here availeth no Swete-Thought, 4505

And Swete-Speche helpith right nought.

The thridde was called Swete-Loking,

That now is lorn, without lesing.

[The] yiftes were fair, but not forthy

They helpe me but simply, 4510

But Bialacoil [may] loosed be,

To gon at large and to be free.

For him my lyf lyth al in dout,

But-if he come the rather out.

Allas! I trowe it wol not been! 4515

For how shuld I evermore him seen?

He may not out, and that is wrong,

Bicause the tour is so strong.

How shulde he out? by whos prowesse,

Out of so strong a forteresse? 4520

By me, certeyn, it nil be do;

God woot, I have no wit therto!

But wel I woot I was in rage,

Whan I to Love dide homage.

Who was in cause, in sothfastnesse, 4525

But hir-silf, dame Idelnesse,

Which me conveyed, thurgh fair prayere,

To entre into that fair vergere?

She was to blame me to leve,

The which now doth me sore greve. 4530

A foolis word is nought to trowe,

Ne worth an appel for to lowe;

Men shulde him snibbe bittirly,

At pryme temps of his foly.

I was a fool, and she me leved, 4535

Thurgh whom I am right nought releved.

She accomplisshed al my wil,

That now me greveth wondir il.

Resoun me seide what shulde falle.

A fool my-silf I may wel calle, 4540

That love asyde I had not leyde,

And trowed that dame Resoun seyde.

Resoun had bothe skile and right.

Whan she me blamed, with al hir might,

To medle of love, that hath me shent; 4545

But certeyn now I wol repent.

'And shulde I repent? Nay, parde!

A fals traitour than shulde I be.

The develles engins wolde me take,

If I my [lorde] wolde forsake, 4550

Or Bialacoil falsly bitraye.

Shulde I at mischeef hate him? nay,

Sith he now, for his curtesye,

Is in prisoun of Ielousye.

Curtesye certeyn dide he me, 4555

So muche, it may not yolden be,

Whan he the hay passen me lete,

To kisse the rose, faire and swete;

Shulde I therfore cunne him maugree?

Nay, certeynly, it shal not be; 4560

For Love shal never, [if god wil],

Here of me, thurgh word or wil,

Offence or complaynt, more or lesse,

Neither of Hope nor Idilnesse;

For certis, it were wrong that I 4565

Hated hem for hir curtesye.

Ther is not ellis, but suffre and thinke,

And waken whan I shulde winke;

Abyde in hope, til Love, thurgh chaunce,

Sende me socour or allegeaunce, 4570

Expectant ay til I may mete

To geten mercy of that swete.

'Whylom I thinke how Love to me

Seyde he wolde taken atte gree

My servise, if unpacience 4575

Caused me to doon offence.

He seyde, "In thank I shal it take,

And high maister eek thee make,

If wikkednesse ne reve it thee;

But sone, I trowe, that shal not be." 4580

These were his wordis by and by;

It semed he loved me trewly.

Now is ther not but serve him wele,

If that I thinke his thank to fele.

My good, myn harm, lyth hool in me; 4585

In Love may no defaute be;

For trewe Love ne failid never man.

Sothly, the faute mot nedis than

(As God forbede!) be founde in me,

And how it cometh, I can not see. 4590

Now lat it goon as it may go;

Whether Love wol socoure me or slo,

He may do hool on me his wil.

I am so sore bounde him til,

From his servyse I may not fleen; 4595

For lyf and deth, withouten wene,

Is in his hand; I may not chese;

He may me do bothe winne and lese.

And sith so sore he doth me greve,

Yit, if my lust he wolde acheve 4600

To Bialacoil goodly to be,

I yeve no force what felle on me.

For though I dye, as I mot nede,

I praye Love, of his goodlihede,

To Bialacoil do gentilnesse, 4605

For whom I live in such distresse,

That I mote deyen for penaunce.

But first, withoute repentaunce,

I wol me confesse in good entent,

And make in haste my testament, 4610

As lovers doon that felen smerte:--

To Bialacoil leve I myn herte

Al hool, withoute departing,

Or doublenesse of repenting.'