Confessio Amantis - Tales Of The Seven Deadly Sins, 1330-1408 A.D. - Incipit Liber Octavus

Que favet ad vicium vetus hec modo regula confert,     Nec novus e contra qui docet ordo placet.     Cecus amor dudum nondum sua lumina cepit,     Quo Venus impositum devia fallit iter.     The myhti god, which unbegunne     Stant of himself and hath begunne     Alle othre thinges at his wille,     The hevene him liste to fulfille     Of alle joie, where as he     Sit inthronized in his See,     And hath hise Angles him to serve,     Suche as him liketh to preserve,     So that thei mowe noght forsueie:     Bot Lucifer he putte aweie,    10     With al the route apostazied     Of hem that ben to him allied,     Whiche out of hevene into the helle     From Angles into fendes felle;     Wher that ther is no joie of lyht,     Bot more derk than eny nyht     The peine schal ben endeles;     And yit of fyres natheles     Ther is plente, bot thei ben blake,     Wherof no syhte mai be take.        20     Thus whan the thinges ben befalle,     That Luciferes court was falle     Wher dedly Pride hem hath conveied,     Anon forthwith it was pourveied     Thurgh him which alle thinges may;     He made Adam the sexte day     In Paradis, and to his make     Him liketh Eve also to make,     And bad hem cresce and multiplie.     For of the mannes Progenie,    30     Which of the womman schal be bore,     The nombre of Angles which was lore,     Whan thei out fro the blisse felle,     He thoghte to restore, and felle     In hevene thilke holy place     Which stod tho voide upon his grace.     Bot as it is wel wiste and knowe,     Adam and Eve bot a throwe,     So as it scholde of hem betyde,     In Paradis at thilke tyde        40     Ne duelten, and the cause why,     Write in the bok of Genesi,     As who seith, alle men have herd,     Hou Raphael the fyri swerd     In honde tok and drof hem oute,     To gete here lyves fode aboute     Upon this wofull Erthe hiere.     Metodre seith to this matiere,     As he be revelacion     It hadde upon avision,        50     Hou that Adam and Eve also     Virgines comen bothe tuo     Into the world and were aschamed,     Til that nature hem hath reclamed     To love, and tauht hem thilke lore,     That ferst thei keste, and overmore     Thei don that is to kinde due,     Wherof thei hadden fair issue.     A Sone was the ferste of alle,     And Chain be name thei him calle;    60     Abel was after the secounde,     And in the geste as it is founde,     Nature so the cause ladde,     Tuo douhtres ek Dame Eve hadde,     The ferste cleped Calmana     Was, and that other Delbora.     Thus was mankinde to beginne;     Forthi that time it was no Sinne     The Soster forto take hire brother,     Whan that ther was of chois non other:     70     To Chain was Calmana betake,     And Delboram hath Abel take,     In whom was gete natheles     Of worldes folk the ferste encres.     Men sein that nede hath no lawe,     And so it was be thilke dawe     And laste into the Secounde Age,     Til that the grete water rage,     Of Noeh which was seid the flod,     The world, which thanne in Senne stod,     80     Hath dreint, outake lyves Eyhte.     Tho was mankinde of litel weyhte;     Sem, Cham, Japhet, of these thre,     That ben the Sones of Noe5,     The world of mannes nacion     Into multiplicacion     Was tho restored newe ayein     So ferforth, as the bokes sein,     That of hem thre and here issue     Ther was so large a retenue,        90     Of naciouns seventy and tuo;     In sondri place ech on of tho     The wyde world have enhabited.     Bot as nature hem hath excited,     Thei token thanne litel hiede,     The brother of the Sosterhiede     To wedde wyves, til it cam     Into the time of Habraham.     Whan the thridde Age was begunne,     The nede tho was overrunne,     100     For ther was poeple ynouh in londe:     Thanne ate ferste it cam to honde,     That Sosterhode of mariage     Was torned into cousinage,     So that after the rihte lyne     The Cousin weddeth the cousine.     For Habraham, er that he deide,     This charge upon his servant leide,     To him and in this wise spak,     That he his Sone Isaa5c     110     Do wedde for no worldes good,     Bot only to his oghne blod:     Wherof this Servant, as he bad,     Whan he was ded, his Sone hath lad     To Bathuel, wher he Rebecke     Hath wedded with the whyte necke;     For sche, he wiste wel and syh,     Was to the child cousine nyh.     And thus as Habraham hath tawht,     Whan Isaa5c was god betawht,        120     His Sone Jacob dede also,     And of Laban the dowhtres tuo,     Which was his Em, he tok to wyve,     And gat upon hem in his lyve,     Of hire ferst which hihte Lie,     Sex Sones of his Progenie,     And of Rachel tuo Sones eke:     The remenant was forto seke,     That is to sein of foure mo,     Wherof he gat on Bala tuo,     130     And of Zelpha he hadde ek tweie.     And these tuelve, as I thee seie,     Thurgh providence of god himselve     Ben seid the Patriarkes tuelve;     Of whom, as afterward befell,     The tribes tuelve of Irahel     Engendred were, and ben the same     That of Hebreus tho hadden name,     Which of Sibrede in alliance     For evere kepten thilke usance    140     Most comunly, til Crist was bore.     Bot afterward it was forbore     Amonges ous that ben baptized;     For of the lawe canonized     The Pope hath bede to the men,     That non schal wedden of his ken     Ne the seconde ne the thridde.     Bot thogh that holy cherche it bidde,     So to restreigne Mariage,     Ther ben yit upon loves Rage        150     Full manye of suche nou aday     That taken wher thei take may.     For love, which is unbesein     Of alle reson, as men sein,     Thurgh sotie and thurgh nycete,     Of his voluptuosite     He spareth no condicion     Of ken ne yit religion,     Bot as a cock among the Hennes,     Or as a Stalon in the Fennes,     160     Which goth amonges al the Stod,     Riht so can he nomore good,     Bot takth what thing comth next to honde.     Mi Sone, thou schalt understonde,     That such delit is forto blame.     Forthi if thou hast be the same     To love in eny such manere,     Tell forth therof and schrif thee hiere.     Mi fader, nay, god wot the sothe,     Mi feire is noght of such a bothe,        170     So wylde a man yit was I nevere,     That of mi ken or lief or levere     Me liste love in such a wise:     And ek I not for what emprise     I scholde assote upon a Nonne,     For thogh I hadde hir love wonne,     It myhte into no pris amonte,     So therof sette I non acompte.     Ye mai wel axe of this and that,     Bot sothli forto telle plat,        180     In al this world ther is bot on     The which myn herte hath overgon;     I am toward alle othre fre.     Full wel, mi Sone, nou I see     Thi word stant evere upon o place,     Bot yit therof thou hast a grace,     That thou thee myht so wel excuse     Of love such as som men use,     So as I spak of now tofore.     For al such time of love is lore,    190     And lich unto the bitterswete;     For thogh it thenke a man ferst swete,     He schal wel fielen ate laste     That it is sour and may noght laste.     For as a morsell envenimed,     So hath such love his lust mistimed,     And grete ensamples manyon     A man mai finde therupon.     At Rome ferst if we beginne,     Ther schal I finde hou of this sinne    200     An Emperour was forto blame,     Gayus Caligula be name,     Which of his oghne Sostres thre     Berefte the virginite:     And whanne he hadde hem so forlein,     As he the which was al vilein,     He dede hem out of londe exile.     Bot afterward withinne a while     God hath beraft him in his ire     His lif and ek his large empire:     210     And thus for likinge of a throwe     For evere his lust was overthrowe.     Of this sotie also I finde,     Amon his Soster ayein kinde,     Which hihte Thamar, he forlay;     Bot he that lust an other day     Aboghte, whan that Absolon     His oghne brother therupon,     Of that he hadde his Soster schent,     Tok of that Senne vengement    220     And slowh him with his oghne hond:     And thus thunkinde unkinde fond.     And forto se more of this thing,     The bible makth a knowleching,     Wherof thou miht take evidence     Upon the sothe experience.     Whan Lothes wif was overgon     And schape into the salte Ston,     As it is spoke into this day,     Be bothe hise dowhtres thanne he lay,        230     With childe and made hem bothe grete,     Til that nature hem wolde lete,     And so the cause aboute ladde     That ech of hem a Sone hadde,     Moab the ferste, and the seconde     Amon, of whiche, as it is founde,     Cam afterward to gret encres     Tuo nacions: and natheles,     For that the stockes were ungoode,     The branches mihten noght be goode;     240     For of the false Moabites     Forth with the strengthe of Amonites,     Of that thei weren ferst misgete,     The poeple of god was ofte upsete     In Irahel and in Judee,     As in the bible a man mai se.     Lo thus, my Sone, as I thee seie,     Thou miht thiselve be beseie     Of that thou hast of othre herd:     For evere yit it hath so ferd,    250     Of loves lust if so befalle     That it in other place falle     Than it is of the lawe set,     He which his love hath so beset     Mote afterward repente him sore.     And every man is othres lore;     Of that befell in time er this     The present time which now is     May ben enformed hou it stod,     And take that him thenketh good,     260     And leve that which is noght so.     Bot forto loke of time go,     Hou lust of love excedeth lawe,     It oghte forto be withdrawe;     For every man it scholde drede,     And nameliche in his Sibrede,     Which torneth ofte to vengance:     Wherof a tale in remembrance,     Which is a long process to hiere,     I thenke forto tellen hiere.        270     Of a Cronique in daies gon,     The which is cleped Pantheon,     In loves cause I rede thus,     Hou that the grete Antiochus,     Of whom that Antioche tok     His ferste name, as seith the bok,     Was coupled to a noble queene,     And hadde a dowhter hem betwene:     Bot such fortune cam to honde,     That deth, which no king mai withstonde,        280     Bot every lif it mote obeie,     This worthi queene tok aweie.     The king, which made mochel mone,     Tho stod, as who seith, al him one     Withoute wif, bot natheles     His doghter, which was piereles     Of beaute, duelte aboute him stille.     Bot whanne a man hath welthe at wille,     The fleissh is frele and falleth ofte,     And that this maide tendre and softe,        290     Which in hire fadres chambres duelte,     Withinne a time wiste and felte:     For likinge and concupiscence     Withoute insihte of conscience     The fader so with lustes blente,     That he caste al his hole entente     His oghne doghter forto spille.     This king hath leisir at his wille     With strengthe, and whanne he time sih,     This yonge maiden he forlih:        300     And sche was tendre and full of drede,     Sche couthe noght hir Maidenhede     Defende, and thus sche hath forlore     The flour which she hath longe bore.     It helpeth noght althogh sche wepe,     For thei that scholde hir bodi kepe     Of wommen were absent as thanne;     And thus this maiden goth to manne,     The wylde fader thus devoureth     His oghne fleissh, which non socoureth,    310     And that was cause of mochel care.     Bot after this unkinde fare     Out of the chambre goth the king,     And sche lay stille, and of this thing,     Withinne hirself such sorghe made,     Ther was no wiht that mihte hir glade,     For feere of thilke horrible vice.     With that cam inne the Norrice     Which fro childhode hire hadde kept,     And axeth if sche hadde slept,    320     And why hire chiere was unglad.     Bot sche, which hath ben overlad     Of that sche myhte noght be wreke,     For schame couthe unethes speke;     And natheles mercy sche preide     With wepende yhe and thus sche seide:     "Helas, mi Soster, waileway,     That evere I sih this ilke day!     Thing which mi bodi ferst begat     Into this world, onliche that     330     Mi worldes worschipe hath bereft."     With that sche swouneth now and eft,     And evere wissheth after deth,     So that welnyh hire lacketh breth.     That other, which hire wordes herde,     In confortinge of hire ansuerde,     To lette hire fadres fol desir     Sche wiste no recoverir:     Whan thing is do, ther is no bote,     So suffren thei that suffre mote;    340     Ther was non other which it wiste.     Thus hath this king al that him liste     Of his likinge and his plesance,     And laste in such continuance,     And such delit he tok therinne,     Him thoghte that it was no Sinne;     And sche dorste him nothing withseie.     Bot fame, which goth every weie,     To sondry regnes al aboute     The grete beaute telleth oute     350     Of such a maide of hih parage:     So that for love of mariage     The worthi Princes come and sende,     As thei the whiche al honour wende,     And knewe nothing hou it stod.     The fader, whanne he understod,     That thei his dowhter thus besoghte,     With al his wit he caste and thoghte     Hou that he myhte finde a lette;     And such a Statut thanne he sette,        360     And in this wise his lawe he taxeth,     That what man that his doghter axeth,     Bot if he couthe his question     Assoile upon suggestion     Of certein thinges that befelle,     The whiche he wolde unto him telle,     He scholde in certein lese his hed.     And thus ther weren manye ded,     Here hevedes stondende on the gate,     Till ate laste longe and late,    370     For lacke of ansuere in the wise,     The remenant that weren wise     Eschuieden to make assay.     Til it befell upon a day     Appolinus the Prince of Tyr,     Which hath to love a gret desir,     As he which in his hihe mod     Was likende of his hote blod,     A yong, a freissh, a lusti knyht,     As he lai musende on a nyht    380     Of the tidinges whiche he herde,     He thoghte assaie hou that it ferde.     He was with worthi compainie     Arraied, and with good navie     To schipe he goth, the wynd him dryveth,     And seileth, til that he arryveth:     Sauf in the port of Antioche     He londeth, and goth to aproche     The kinges Court and his presence.     Of every naturel science,        390     Which eny clerk him couthe teche,     He couthe ynowh, and in his speche     Of wordes he was eloquent;     And whanne he sih the king present,     He preith he moste his dowhter have.     The king ayein began to crave,     And tolde him the condicion,     Hou ferst unto his question     He mote ansuere and faile noght,     Or with his heved it schal be boght:    400     And he him axeth what it was.     The king declareth him the cas     With sturne lok and sturdi chiere,     To him and seide in this manere:     "With felonie I am upbore,     I ete and have it noght forbore     Mi modres fleissh, whos housebonde     Mi fader forto seche I fonde,     Which is the Sone ek of my wif.     Hierof I am inquisitif;     410     And who that can mi tale save,     Al quyt he schal my doghter have;     Of his ansuere and if he faile,     He schal be ded withoute faile.     Forthi my Sone," quod the king,     "Be wel avised of this thing,     Which hath thi lif in jeupartie."     Appolinus for his partie,     Whan he this question hath herd,     Unto the king he hath ansuerd     420     And hath rehersed on and on     The pointz, and seide therupon:     "The question which thou hast spoke,     If thou wolt that it be unloke,     It toucheth al the privete     Betwen thin oghne child and thee,     And stant al hol upon you tuo."     The king was wonder sory tho,     And thoghte, if that he seide it oute,     Than were he schamed al aboute.        430     With slihe wordes and with felle     He seith, "Mi Sone, I schal thee telle,     Though that thou be of litel wit,     It is no gret merveile as yit,     Thin age mai it noght suffise:     Bot loke wel thou noght despise     Thin oghne lif, for of my grace     Of thretty daies fulle a space     I grante thee, to ben avised."     And thus with leve and time assised     440     This yonge Prince forth he wente,     And understod wel what it mente,     Withinne his herte as he was lered,     That forto maken him afered     The king his time hath so deslaied.     Wherof he dradde and was esmaied,     Of treson that he deie scholde,     For he the king his sothe tolde;     And sodeinly the nyhtes tyde,     That more wolde he noght abide,        450     Al prively his barge he hente     And hom ayein to Tyr he wente:     And in his oghne wit he seide     For drede, if he the king bewreide,     He knew so wel the kinges herte,     That deth ne scholde he noght asterte,     The king him wolde so poursuie.     Bot he, that wolde his deth eschuie,     And knew al this tofor the hond,     Forsake he thoghte his oghne lond,        460     That there wolde he noght abyde;     For wel he knew that on som syde     This tirant of his felonie     Be som manere of tricherie     To grieve his bodi wol noght leve.     Forthi withoute take leve,     Als priveliche as evere he myhte,     He goth him to the See be nyhte     In Schipes that be whete laden:     Here takel redy tho thei maden    470     And hale up Seil and forth thei fare.     Bot forto tellen of the care     That thei of Tyr begonne tho,     Whan that thei wiste he was ago,     It is a Pite forto hiere.     They losten lust, they losten chiere,     Thei toke upon hem such penaunce,     Ther was no song, ther was no daunce,     Bot every merthe and melodie     To hem was thanne a maladie;        480     For unlust of that aventure     Ther was noman which tok tonsure,     In doelful clothes thei hem clothe,     The bathes and the Stwes bothe     Thei schetten in be every weie;     There was no lif which leste pleie     Ne take of eny joie kepe,     Bot for here liege lord to wepe;     And every wyht seide as he couthe,     "Helas, the lusti flour of youthe,        490     Our Prince, oure heved, our governour,     Thurgh whom we stoden in honour,     Withoute the comun assent     Thus sodeinliche is fro ous went!"     Such was the clamour of hem alle.     Bot se we now what is befalle     Upon the ferste tale plein,     And torne we therto ayein.     Antiochus the grete Sire,     Which full of rancour and of ire     500     His herte berth, so as ye herde,     Of that this Prince of Tyr ansuerde,     He hadde a feloun bacheler,     Which was his prive consailer,     And Taliart be name he hihte:     The king a strong puison him dihte     Withinne a buiste and gold therto,     In alle haste and bad him go     Strawht unto Tyr, and for no cost     Ne spare he, til he hadde lost    510     The Prince which he wolde spille.     And whan the king hath seid his wille,     This Taliart in a Galeie     With alle haste he tok his weie:     The wynd was good, he saileth blyve,     Til he tok lond upon the ryve     Of Tyr, and forth with al anon     Into the Burgh he gan to gon,     And tok his In and bod a throwe.     Bot for he wolde noght be knowe,     520     Desguised thanne he goth him oute;     He sih the wepinge al aboute,     And axeth what the cause was,     And thei him tolden al the cas,     How sodeinli the Prince is go.     And whan he sih that it was so,     And that his labour was in vein,     Anon he torneth hom ayein,     And to the king, whan he cam nyh,     He tolde of that he herde and syh,        530     Hou that the Prince of Tyr is fled,     So was he come ayein unsped.     The king was sori for a while,     Bot whan he sih that with no wyle     He myhte achieve his crualte,     He stinte his wraththe and let him be.     Bot over this now forto telle     Of aventures that befelle     Unto this Prince of whom I tolde,     He hath his rihte cours forth holde     540     Be Ston and nedle, til he cam     To Tharse, and there his lond he nam.     A Burgeis riche of gold and fee     Was thilke time in that cite,     Which cleped was Strangulio,     His wif was Dionise also:     This yonge Prince, as seith the bok,     With hem his herbergage tok;     And it befell that Cite so     Before time and thanne also,        550     Thurgh strong famyne which hem ladde     Was non that eny whete hadde.     Appolinus, whan that he herde     The meschief, hou the cite ferde,     Al freliche of his oghne yifte     His whete, among hem forto schifte,     The which be Schipe he hadde broght,     He yaf, and tok of hem riht noght.     Bot sithen ferst this world began,     Was nevere yit to such a man        560     Mor joie mad than thei him made:     For thei were alle of him so glade,     That thei for evere in remembrance     Made a figure in resemblance     Of him, and in the comun place     Thei sette him up, so that his face     Mihte every maner man beholde,     So as the cite was beholde;     It was of latoun overgilt:     Thus hath he noght his yifte spilt.     570     Upon a time with his route     This lord to pleie goth him oute,     And in his weie of Tyr he mette     A man, the which on knees him grette,     And Hellican be name he hihte,     Which preide his lord to have insihte     Upon himself, and seide him thus,     Hou that the grete Antiochus     Awaiteth if he mihte him spille.     That other thoghte and hield him stille,        580     And thonked him of his warnynge,     And bad him telle no tidinge,     Whan he to Tyr cam hom ayein,     That he in Tharse him hadde sein.     Fortune hath evere be muable     And mai no while stonde stable:     For now it hiheth, now it loweth,     Now stant upriht, now overthroweth,     Now full of blisse and now of bale,     As in the tellinge of mi tale     590     Hierafterward a man mai liere,     Which is gret routhe forto hiere.     This lord, which wolde don his beste,     Withinne himself hath litel reste,     And thoghte he wolde his place change     And seche a contre more strange.     Of Tharsiens his leve anon     He tok, and is to Schipe gon:     His cours he nam with Seil updrawe,     Where as fortune doth the lawe,        600     And scheweth, as I schal reherse,     How sche was to this lord diverse,     The which upon the See sche ferketh.     The wynd aros, the weder derketh,     It blew and made such tempeste,     Non ancher mai the schip areste,     Which hath tobroken al his gere;     The Schipmen stode in such a feere,     Was non that myhte himself bestere,     Bot evere awaite upon the lere,        610     Whan that thei scholde drenche at ones.     Ther was ynowh withinne wones     Of wepinge and of sorghe tho;     This yonge king makth mochel wo     So forto se the Schip travaile:     Bot al that myhte him noght availe;     The mast tobrak, the Seil torof,     The Schip upon the wawes drof,     Til that thei sihe a londes cooste.     Tho made avou the leste and moste,        620     Be so thei myhten come alonde;     Bot he which hath the See on honde,     Neptunus, wolde noght acorde,     Bot altobroke cable and corde,     Er thei to londe myhte aproche,     The Schip toclef upon a roche,     And al goth doun into the depe.     Bot he that alle thing mai kepe     Unto this lord was merciable,     And broghte him sauf upon a table,        630     Which to the lond him hath upbore;     The remenant was al forlore,     Wherof he made mochel mone.     Thus was this yonge lord him one,     Al naked in a povere plit:     His colour, which whilom was whyt,     Was thanne of water fade and pale,     And ek he was so sore acale     That he wiste of himself no bote,     It halp him nothing forto mote    640     To gete ayein that he hath lore.     Bot sche which hath his deth forbore,     Fortune, thogh sche wol noght yelpe,     Al sodeinly hath sent him helpe,     Whanne him thoghte alle grace aweie;     Ther cam a Fisshere in the weie,     And sih a man ther naked stonde,     And whan that he hath understonde     The cause, he hath of him gret routhe,     And onliche of his povere trouthe    650     Of suche clothes as he hadde     With gret Pite this lord he cladde.     And he him thonketh as he scholde,     And seith him that it schal be yolde,     If evere he gete his stat ayein,     And preide that he wolde him sein     If nyh were eny toun for him.     He seide, "Yee, Pentapolim,     Wher bothe king and queene duellen."     Whanne he this tale herde tellen,    660     He gladeth him and gan beseche     That he the weie him wolde teche:     And he him taghte; and forth he wente     And preide god with good entente     To sende him joie after his sorwe.     It was noght passed yit Midmorwe,     Whan thiderward his weie he nam,     Wher sone upon the Non he cam.     He eet such as he myhte gete,     And forth anon, whan he hadde ete,        670     He goth to se the toun aboute,     And cam ther as he fond a route     Of yonge lusti men withalle;     And as it scholde tho befalle,     That day was set of such assisse,     That thei scholde in the londes guise,     As he herde of the poeple seie,     Here comun game thanne pleie;     And crid was that thei scholden come     Unto the gamen alle and some        680     Of hem that ben delivere and wyhte,     To do such maistrie as thei myhte.     Thei made hem naked as thei scholde,     For so that ilke game wolde,     As it was tho custume and us,     Amonges hem was no refus:     The flour of al the toun was there     And of the court also ther were,     And that was in a large place     Riht evene afore the kinges face,    690     Which Artestrathes thanne hihte.     The pley was pleid riht in his sihte,     And who most worthi was of dede     Receive he scholde a certein mede     And in the cite bere a pris.     Appolinus, which war and wys     Of every game couthe an ende,     He thoghte assaie, hou so it wende,     And fell among hem into game:     And there he wan him such a name,    700     So as the king himself acompteth     That he alle othre men surmonteth,     And bar the pris above hem alle.     The king bad that into his halle     At Souper time he schal be broght;     And he cam thanne and lefte it noght,     Withoute compaignie al one:     Was non so semlich of persone,     Of visage and of limes bothe,     If that he hadde what to clothe.     710     At Soupertime natheles     The king amiddes al the pres     Let clepe him up among hem alle,     And bad his Mareschall of halle     To setten him in such degre     That he upon him myhte se.     The king was sone set and served,     And he, which hath his pris deserved     After the kinges oghne word,     Was mad beginne a Middel bord,    720     That bothe king and queene him sihe.     He sat and caste aboute his yhe     And sih the lordes in astat,     And with himself wax in debat     Thenkende what he hadde lore,     And such a sorwe he tok therfore,     That he sat evere stille and thoghte,     As he which of no mete roghte.     The king behield his hevynesse,     And of his grete gentillesse        730     His doghter, which was fair and good     And ate bord before him stod,     As it was thilke time usage,     He bad to gon on his message     And fonde forto make him glad.     And sche dede as hire fader bad,     And goth to him the softe pas     And axeth whenne and what he was,     And preith he scholde his thoghtes leve.     He seith, "Ma Dame, be your leve     740     Mi name is hote Appolinus,     And of mi richesse it is thus,     Upon the See I have it lore.     The contre wher as I was bore,     Wher that my lond is and mi rente,     I lefte at Tyr, whan that I wente:     The worschipe of this worldes aghte,     Unto the god ther I betaghte."     And thus togedre as thei tuo speeke,     The teres runne be his cheeke.    750     The king, which therof tok good kepe,     Hath gret Pite to sen him wepe,     And for his doghter sende ayein,     And preide hir faire and gan to sein     That sche no lengere wolde drecche,     Bot that sche wolde anon forth fecche     Hire harpe and don al that sche can     To glade with that sory man.     And sche to don hir fader heste     Hir harpe fette, and in the feste    760     Upon a Chaier which thei fette     Hirself next to this man sche sette:     With harpe bothe and ek with mouthe     To him sche dede al that sche couthe     To make him chiere, and evere he siketh,     And sche him axeth hou him liketh.     "Ma dame, certes wel," he seide,     "Bot if ye the mesure pleide     Which, if you list, I schal you liere,     It were a glad thing forto hiere."        770     "Ha, lieve sire," tho quod sche,     "Now tak the harpe and let me se     Of what mesure that ye mene."     Tho preith the king, tho preith the queene,     Forth with the lordes alle arewe,     That he som merthe wolde schewe;     He takth the Harpe and in his wise     He tempreth, and of such assise     Singende he harpeth forth withal,     That as a vois celestial    780     Hem thoghte it souneth in here Ere,     As thogh that he an Angel were.     Thei gladen of his melodie,     Bot most of alle the compainie     The kinges doghter, which it herde,     And thoghte ek hou that he ansuerde,     Whan that he was of hire opposed,     Withinne hir herte hath wel supposed     That he is of gret gentilesse.     Hise dedes ben therof witnesse    790     Forth with the wisdom of his lore;     It nedeth noght to seche more,     He myhte noght have such manere,     Of gentil blod bot if he were.     Whanne he hath harped al his fille,     The kinges heste to fulfille,     Awey goth dissh, awey goth cuppe,     Doun goth the bord, the cloth was uppe,     Thei risen and gon out of halle.     The king his chamberlein let calle,     800     And bad that he be alle weie     A chambre for this man pourveie,     Which nyh his oghne chambre be.     "It schal be do, mi lord," quod he.     Appolinus of whom I mene     Tho tok his leve of king and queene     And of the worthi Maide also,     Which preide unto hir fader tho,     That sche myhte of that yonge man     Of tho sciences whiche he can     810     His lore have; and in this wise     The king hir granteth his aprise,     So that himself therto assente.     Thus was acorded er thei wente,     That he with al that evere he may     This yonge faire freisshe May     Of that he couthe scholde enforme;     And full assented in this forme     Thei token leve as for that nyht.     And whanne it was amorwe lyht,    820     Unto this yonge man of Tyr     Of clothes and of good atir     With gold and Selver to despende     This worthi yonge lady sende:     And thus sche made him wel at ese,     And he with al that he can plese     Hire serveth wel and faire ayein.     He tawhte hir til sche was certein     Of Harpe, of Citole and of Rote,     With many a tun and many a note        830     Upon Musique, upon mesure,     And of hire Harpe the temprure     He tawhte hire ek, as he wel couthe.     Bot as men sein that frele is youthe,     With leisir and continuance     This Mayde fell upon a chance,     That love hath mad him a querele     Ayein hire youthe freissh and frele,     That malgre wher sche wole or noght,     Sche mot with al hire hertes thoght     840     To love and to his lawe obeie;     And that sche schal ful sore abeie.     For sche wot nevere what it is,     Bot evere among sche fieleth this:     Thenkende upon this man of Tyr,     Hire herte is hot as eny fyr,     And otherwhile it is acale;     Now is sche red, nou is sche pale     Riht after the condicion     Of hire ymaginacion;     850     Bot evere among hire thoghtes alle,     Sche thoghte, what so mai befalle,     Or that sche lawhe, or that sche wepe,     Sche wolde hire goode name kepe     For feere of wommanysshe schame.     Bot what in ernest and in game,     Sche stant for love in such a plit,     That sche hath lost al appetit     Of mete, of drinke, of nyhtes reste,     As sche that not what is the beste;     860     Bot forto thenken al hir fille     Sche hield hire ofte times stille     Withinne hir chambre, and goth noght oute:     The king was of hire lif in doute,     Which wiste nothing what it mente.     Bot fell a time, as he out wente     To walke, of Princes Sones thre     Ther come and felle to his kne;     And ech of hem in sondri wise     Besoghte and profreth his servise,        870     So that he myhte his doghter have.     The king, which wolde his honour save,     Seith sche is siek, and of that speche     Tho was no time to beseche;     Bot ech of hem do make a bille     He bad, and wryte his oghne wille,     His name, his fader and his good;     And whan sche wiste hou that it stod,     And hadde here billes oversein,     Thei scholden have ansuere ayein.    880     Of this conseil thei weren glad,     And writen as the king hem bad,     And every man his oghne bok     Into the kinges hond betok,     And he it to his dowhter sende,     And preide hir forto make an ende     And wryte ayein hire oghne hond,     Riht as sche in hire herte fond.     The billes weren wel received,     Bot sche hath alle here loves weyved,        890     And thoghte tho was time and space     To put hire in hir fader grace,     And wrot ayein and thus sche saide:     "The schame which is in a Maide     With speche dar noght ben unloke,     Bot in writinge it mai be spoke;     So wryte I to you, fader, thus:     Bot if I have Appolinus,     Of al this world, what so betyde,     I wol non other man abide.     900     And certes if I of him faile,     I wot riht wel withoute faile     Ye schull for me be dowhterles."     This lettre cam, and ther was press     Tofore the king, ther as he stod;     And whan that he it understod,     He yaf hem ansuer by and by,     Bot that was do so prively,     That non of othres conseil wiste.     Thei toke her leve, and wher hem liste     910     Thei wente forth upon here weie.     The king ne wolde noght bewreie     The conseil for no maner hihe,     Bot soffreth til he time sihe:     And whan that he to chambre is come,     He hath unto his conseil nome     This man of Tyr, and let him se     The lettre and al the privete,     The which his dowhter to him sente:     And he his kne to grounde bente        920     And thonketh him and hire also,     And er thei wenten thanne atuo,     With good herte and with good corage     Of full Love and full mariage     The king and he ben hol acorded.     And after, whanne it was recorded     Unto the dowhter hou it stod,     The yifte of al this worldes good     Ne scholde have mad hir half so blythe:     And forth withal the king als swithe,        930     For he wol have hire good assent,     Hath for the queene hir moder sent.     The queene is come, and whan sche herde     Of this matiere hou that it ferde,     Sche syh debat, sche syh desese,     Bot if sche wolde hir dowhter plese,     And is therto assented full.     Which is a dede wonderfull,     For noman knew the sothe cas     Bot he himself, what man he was;     940     And natheles, so as hem thoghte,     Hise dedes to the sothe wroghte     That he was come of gentil blod:     Him lacketh noght bot worldes good,     And as therof is no despeir,     For sche schal ben hire fader heir,     And he was able to governe.     Thus wol thei noght the love werne     Of him and hire in none wise,     Bot ther acorded thei divise        950     The day and time of Mariage.     Wher love is lord of the corage,     Him thenketh longe er that he spede;     Bot ate laste unto the dede     The time is come, and in her wise     With gret offrende and sacrifise     Thei wedde and make a riche feste,     And every thing which was honeste     Withinnen house and ek withoute     It was so don, that al aboute     960     Of gret worschipe, of gret noblesse     Ther cride many a man largesse     Unto the lordes hihe and loude;     The knyhtes that ben yonge and proude,     Thei jouste ferst and after daunce.     The day is go, the nyhtes chaunce     Hath derked al the bryhte Sonne;     This lord, which hath his love wonne,     Is go to bedde with his wif,     Wher as thei ladde a lusti lif,        970     And that was after somdel sene,     For as thei pleiden hem betwene,     Thei gete a child betwen hem tuo,     To whom fell after mochel wo.     Now have I told of the spousailes.     Bot forto speke of the mervailes     Whiche afterward to hem befelle,     It is a wonder forto telle.     It fell adai thei riden oute,     The king and queene and al the route,        980     To pleien hem upon the stronde,     Wher as thei sen toward the londe     A Schip sailende of gret array.     To knowe what it mene may,     Til it be come thei abide;     Than sen thei stonde on every side,     Endlong the schipes bord to schewe,     Of Penonceals a riche rewe.     Thei axen when the ship is come:     Fro Tyr, anon ansuerde some,        990     And over this thei seiden more     The cause why thei comen fore     Was forto seche and forto finde     Appolinus, which was of kinde     Her liege lord: and he appiereth,     And of the tale which he hiereth     He was riht glad; for thei him tolde,     That for vengance, as god it wolde,     Antiochus, as men mai wite,     With thondre and lyhthnynge is forsmite;        1000     His doghter hath the same chaunce,     So be thei bothe in o balance.     "Forthi, oure liege lord, we seie     In name of al the lond, and preie,     That left al other thing to done,     It like you to come sone     And se youre oghne liege men     With othre that ben of youre ken,     That live in longinge and desir     Til ye be come ayein to Tyr."     1010     This tale after the king it hadde     Pentapolim al overspradde,     Ther was no joie forto seche;     For every man it hadde in speche     And seiden alle of on acord,     "A worthi king schal ben oure lord:     That thoghte ous ferst an hevinesse     Is schape ous now to gret gladnesse."     Thus goth the tidinge overal.     Bot nede he mot, that nede schal:    1020     Appolinus his leve tok,     To god and al the lond betok     With al the poeple long and brod,     That he no lenger there abod.     The king and queene sorwe made,     Bot yit somdiel thei weren glade     Of such thing as thei herden tho:     And thus betwen the wel and wo     To schip he goth, his wif with childe,     The which was evere meke and mylde        1030     And wolde noght departe him fro,     Such love was betwen hem tuo.     Lichorida for hire office     Was take, which was a Norrice,     To wende with this yonge wif,     To whom was schape a woful lif.     Withinne a time, as it betidde,     Whan thei were in the See amidde,     Out of the North they sihe a cloude;     The storm aros, the wyndes loude     1040     Thei blewen many a dredful blast,     The welkne was al overcast,     The derke nyht the Sonne hath under,     Ther was a gret tempeste of thunder:     The Mone and ek the Sterres bothe     In blake cloudes thei hem clothe,     Wherof here brihte lok thei hyde.     This yonge ladi wepte and cride,     To whom no confort myhte availe;     Of childe sche began travaile,    1050     Wher sche lay in a Caban clos:     Hire woful lord fro hire aros,     And that was longe er eny morwe,     So that in anguisse and in sorwe     Sche was delivered al be nyhte     And ded in every mannes syhte;     Bot natheles for al this wo     A maide child was bore tho.     Appolinus whan he this knew,     For sorwe a swoune he overthrew,    1060     That noman wiste in him no lif.     And whanne he wok, he seide, "Ha, wif,     Mi lust, mi joie, my desir,     Mi welthe and my recoverir,     Why schal I live, and thou schalt dye?     Ha, thou fortune, I thee deffie,     Nou hast thou do to me thi werste.     Ha, herte, why ne wolt thou berste,     That forth with hire I myhte passe?     Mi peines weren wel the lasse."        1070     In such wepinge and in such cry     His dede wif, which lay him by,     A thousend sithes he hire kiste;     Was nevere man that sih ne wiste     A sorwe unto his sorwe lich;     For evere among upon the lich     He fell swounende, as he that soghte     His oghne deth, which he besoghte     Unto the goddes alle above     With many a pitous word of love;     1080     Bot suche wordes as tho were     Yit herde nevere mannes Ere,     Bot only thilke whiche he seide.     The Maister Schipman cam and preide     With othre suche as be therinne,     And sein that he mai nothing winne     Ayein the deth, bot thei him rede,     He be wel war and tak hiede,     The See be weie of his nature     Receive mai no creature     1090     Withinne himself as forto holde,     The which is ded: forthi thei wolde,     As thei conseilen al aboute,     The dede body casten oute.     For betre it is, thei seiden alle,     That it of hire so befalle,     Than if thei scholden alle spille.     The king, which understod here wille     And knew here conseil that was trewe,     Began ayein his sorwe newe     1100     With pitous herte, and thus to seie:     "It is al reson that ye preie.     I am," quod he, "bot on al one,     So wolde I noght for mi persone     Ther felle such adversite.     Bot whan it mai no betre be,     Doth thanne thus upon my word,     Let make a cofre strong of bord,     That it be ferm with led and pich."     Anon was mad a cofre sich,     1110     Al redy broght unto his hond;     And whanne he sih and redy fond     This cofre mad and wel enclowed,     The dede bodi was besowed     In cloth of gold and leid therinne.     And for he wolde unto hire winne     Upon som cooste a Sepulture,     Under hire heved in aventure     Of gold he leide Sommes grete     And of jeueals a strong beyete    1120     Forth with a lettre, and seide thus:     "I, king of Tyr Appollinus,     Do alle maner men to wite,     That hiere and se this lettre write,     That helpeles withoute red     Hier lith a kinges doghter ded:     And who that happeth hir to finde,     For charite tak in his mynde,     And do so that sche be begrave     With this tresor, which he schal have."    1130     Thus whan the lettre was full spoke,     Thei haue anon the cofre stoke,     And bounden it with yren faste,     That it may with the wawes laste,     And stoppen it be such a weie,     That it schal be withinne dreie,     So that no water myhte it grieve.     And thus in hope and good believe     Of that the corps schal wel aryve,     Thei caste it over bord als blyve.        1140     The Schip forth on the wawes wente;     The prince hath changed his entente,     And seith he wol noght come at Tyr     As thanne, bot al his desir     Is ferst to seilen unto Tharse.     The wyndy Storm began to skarse,     The Sonne arist, the weder cliereth,     The Schipman which behinde stiereth,     Whan that he sih the wyndes saghte,     Towardes Tharse his cours he straghte.     1150     Bot now to mi matiere ayein,     To telle as olde bokes sein,     This dede corps of which ye knowe     With wynd and water was forthrowe     Now hier, now ther, til ate laste     At Ephesim the See upcaste     The cofre and al that was therinne.     Of gret merveile now beginne     Mai hiere who that sitteth stille;     That god wol save mai noght spille.     1160     Riht as the corps was throwe alonde,     Ther cam walkende upon the stronde     A worthi clerc, a Surgien,     And ek a gret Phisicien,     Of al that lond the wisest on,     Which hihte Maister Cerymon;     Ther were of his disciples some.     This Maister to the Cofre is come,     He peiseth ther was somwhat in,     And bad hem bere it to his In,     1170     And goth himselve forth withal.     Al that schal falle, falle schal;     Thei comen hom and tarie noght;     This Cofre is into chambre broght,     Which that thei finde faste stoke,     Bot thei with craft it have unloke.     Thei loken in, where as thei founde     A bodi ded, which was bewounde     In cloth of gold, as I seide er,     The tresor ek thei founden ther        1180     Forth with the lettre, which thei rede.     And tho thei token betre hiede;     Unsowed was the bodi sone,     And he, which knew what is to done,     This noble clerk, with alle haste     Began the veines forto taste,     And sih hire Age was of youthe,     And with the craftes whiche he couthe     He soghte and fond a signe of lif.     With that this worthi kinges wif     1190     Honestely thei token oute,     And maden fyres al aboute;     Thei leide hire on a couche softe,     And with a scheete warmed ofte     Hire colde brest began to hete,     Hire herte also to flacke and bete.     This Maister hath hire every joignt     With certein oile and balsme enoignt,     And putte a liquour in hire mouth,     Which is to fewe clerkes couth,        1200     So that sche coevereth ate laste;     And ferst hire yhen up sche caste,     And whan sche more of strengthe cawhte,     Hire Armes bothe forth sche strawhte,     Hield up hire hond and pitously     Sche spak and seide, "Ha, wher am I?     Where is my lord, what world is this?"     As sche that wot noght hou it is.     Bot Cerymon the worthi leche     Ansuerde anon upon hire speche    1210     And seith, "Ma dame, yee ben hiere,     Where yee be sauf, as yee schal hiere     Hierafterward; forthi as nou     Mi conseil is, conforteth you:     For trusteth wel withoute faile,     Ther is nothing which schal you faile,     That oghte of reson to be do."     Thus passen thei a day or tuo;     Thei speke of noght as for an ende,     Til sche began somdiel amende,    1220     And wiste hireselven what sche mente.     Tho forto knowe hire hol entente,     This Maister axeth al the cas,     Hou sche cam there and what sche was.     "Hou I cam hiere wot I noght,"     Quod sche, "bot wel I am bethoght     Of othre thinges al aboute":     Fro point to point and tolde him oute     Als ferforthli as sche it wiste.     And he hire tolde hou in a kiste     1230     The See hire threw upon the lond,     And what tresor with hire he fond,     Which was al redy at hire wille,     As he that schop him to fulfille     With al his myht what thing he scholde.     Sche thonketh him that he so wolde,     And al hire herte sche discloseth,     And seith him wel that sche supposeth     Hire lord be dreint, hir child also;     So sih sche noght bot alle wo.    1240     Wherof as to the world nomore     Ne wol sche torne, and preith therfore     That in som temple of the Cite,     To kepe and holde hir chastete,     Sche mihte among the wommen duelle.     Whan he this tale hir herde telle,     He was riht glad, and made hire knowen     That he a dowhter of his owen     Hath, which he wol unto hir yive     To serve, whil thei bothe live,        1250     In stede of that which sche hath lost;     Al only at his oghne cost     Sche schal be rendred forth with hire.     She seith, "Grant mercy, lieve sire,     God quite it you, ther I ne may."     And thus thei drive forth the day,     Til time com that sche was hol;     And tho thei take her conseil hol,     To schape upon good ordinance     And make a worthi pourveance        1260     Ayein the day whan thei be veiled.     And thus, whan that thei be conseiled,     In blake clothes thei hem clothe,     This lady and the dowhter bothe,     And yolde hem to religion.     The feste and the profession     After the reule of that degre     Was mad with gret solempnete,     Where as Diane is seintefied;     Thus stant this lady justefied    1270     In ordre wher sche thenkth to duelle.     Bot now ayeinward forto telle     In what plit that hire lord stod inne:     He seileth, til that he may winne     The havene of Tharse, as I seide er;     And whanne he was aryved ther,     And it was thurgh the Cite knowe,     Men myhte se withinne a throwe,     As who seith, al the toun at ones,     That come ayein him for the nones,        1280     To yiven him the reverence,     So glad thei were of his presence:     And thogh he were in his corage     Desesed, yit with glad visage     He made hem chiere, and to his In,     Wher he whilom sojourned in,     He goth him straght and was resceived.     And whan the presse of poeple is weived,     He takth his hoste unto him tho,     And seith, "Mi frend Strangulio,     1290     Lo, thus and thus it is befalle,     And thou thiself art on of alle,     Forth with thi wif, whiche I most triste.     Forthi, if it you bothe liste,     My doghter Thaise be youre leve     I thenke schal with you beleve     As for a time; and thus I preie,     That sche be kept be alle weie,     And whan sche hath of age more,     That sche be set to bokes lore.        1300     And this avou to god I make,     That I schal nevere for hir sake     Mi berd for no likinge schave,     Til it befalle that I have     In covenable time of age     Beset hire unto mariage."     Thus thei acorde, and al is wel,     And forto resten him somdel,     As for a while he ther sojorneth,     And thanne he takth his leve and torneth        1310     To Schipe, and goth him hom to Tyr,     Wher every man with gret desir     Awaiteth upon his comynge.     Bot whan the Schip com in seilinge,     And thei perceiven it is he,     Was nevere yit in no cite     Such joie mad as thei tho made;     His herte also began to glade     Of that he sih the poeple glad.     Lo, thus fortune his hap hath lad;    1320     In sondri wise he was travailed,     Bot hou so evere he be assailed,     His latere ende schal be good.     And forto speke hou that it stod     Of Thaise his doghter, wher sche duelleth,     In Tharse, as the Cronique telleth,     Sche was wel kept, sche was wel loked,     Sche was wel tawht, sche was wel boked,     So wel sche spedde hir in hire youthe     That sche of every wisdom couthe,    1330     That forto seche in every lond     So wys an other noman fond,     Ne so wel tawht at mannes yhe.     Bot wo worthe evere fals envie!     For it befell that time so,     A dowhter hath Strangulio,     The which was cleped Philotenne:     Bot fame, which wole evere renne,     Cam al day to hir moder Ere,     And seith, wher evere hir doghter were     1340     With Thayse set in eny place,     The comun vois, the comun grace     Was al upon that other Maide,     And of hir doghter noman saide.     Who wroth but Dionise thanne?     Hire thoghte a thousend yer til whanne     Sche myhte ben of Thaise wreke     Of that sche herde folk so speke.     And fell that ilke same tyde,     That ded was trewe Lychoride,     1350     Which hadde be servant to Thaise,     So that sche was the worse at aise,     For sche hath thanne no servise     Bot only thurgh this Dionise,     Which was hire dedlich Anemie     Thurgh pure treson and envie.     Sche, that of alle sorwe can,     Tho spak unto hire bondeman,     Which cleped was Theophilus,     And made him swere in conseil thus,     1360     That he such time as sche him sette     Schal come Thaise forto fette,     And lede hire oute of alle sihte,     Wher as noman hire helpe myhte,     Upon the Stronde nyh the See,     And there he schal this maiden sle.     This cherles herte is in a traunce,     As he which drad him of vengance     Whan time comth an other day;     Bot yit dorste he noght seie nay,    1370     Bot swor and seide he schal fulfille     Hire hestes at hire oghne wille.     The treson and the time is schape,     So fell it that this cherles knape     Hath lad this maiden ther he wolde     Upon the Stronde, and what sche scholde     Sche was adrad; and he out breide     A rusti swerd and to hir seide,     "Thou schalt be ded." "Helas!" quod sche,     "Why schal I so?" "Lo thus," quod he,        1380     "Mi ladi Dionise hath bede,     Thou schalt be moerdred in this stede."     This Maiden tho for feere schryhte,     And for the love of god almyhte     Sche preith that for a litel stounde     Sche myhte knele upon the grounde,     Toward the hevene forto crave,     Hire wofull Soule if sche mai save:     And with this noise and with this cry,     Out of a barge faste by,    1390     Which hidd was ther on Scomerfare,     Men sterten out and weren ware     Of this feloun,and he to go,     And sche began to crie tho,     "Ha, mercy, help for goddes sake!     Into the barge thei hire take,     As thieves scholde, and forth thei wente.     Upon the See the wynd hem hente,     And malgre wher thei wolde or non,     Tofor the weder forth thei gon,        1400     Ther halp no Seil, ther halp non Ore,     Forstormed and forblowen sore     In gret peril so forth thei dryve,     Til ate laste thei aryve     At Mitelene the Cite.     In havene sauf and whan thei be,     The Maister Schipman made him boun,     And goth him out into the toun,     And profreth Thaise forto selle.     On Leonin it herde telle,        1410     Which Maister of the bordel was,     And bad him gon a redy pas     To fetten hire, and forth he wente,     And Thaise out of his barge he hente,     And to this bordeller hir solde.     And he, that be hire body wolde     Take avantage, let do crye,     That what man wolde his lecherie     Attempte upon hire maidenhede,     Lei doun the gold and he schal spede.        1420     And thus whan he hath crid it oute     In syhte of al the poeple aboute,     He ladde hire to the bordel tho.     No wonder is thogh sche be wo:     Clos in a chambre be hireselve,     Ech after other ten or tuelve     Of yonge men to hire in wente;     Bot such a grace god hire sente,     That for the sorwe which sche made     Was non of hem which pouer hade    1430     To don hire eny vileinie.     This Leonin let evere aspie,     And waiteth after gret beyete;     Bot al for noght, sche was forlete,     That mo men wolde ther noght come.     Whan he therof hath hiede nome,     And knew that sche was yit a maide,     Unto his oghne man he saide,     That he with strengthe ayein hire leve     Tho scholde hir maidenhod bereve.    1440     This man goth in, bot so it ferde,     Whan he hire wofull pleintes herde     And he therof hath take kepe,     Him liste betre forto wepe     Than don oght elles to the game.     And thus sche kepte hirself fro schame,     And kneleth doun to therthe and preide     Unto this man, and thus sche seide:     "If so be that thi maister wolde     That I his gold encresce scholde,    1450     It mai noght falle be this weie:     Bot soffre me to go mi weie     Out of this hous wher I am inne,     And I schal make him forto winne     In som place elles of the toun,     Be so it be religioun,     Wher that honeste wommen duelle.     And thus thou myht thi maister telle,     That whanne I have a chambre there,     Let him do crie ay wyde where,    1460     What lord that hath his doghter diere,     And is in will that sche schal liere     Of such a Scole that is trewe,     I schal hire teche of thinges newe,     Which as non other womman can     In al this lond." And tho this man     Hire tale hath herd, he goth ayein,     And tolde unto his maister plein     That sche hath seid; and therupon,     Whan than he sih beyete non    1470     At the bordel be cause of hire,     He bad his man to gon and spire     A place wher sche myhte abyde,     That he mai winne upon som side     Be that sche can: bot ate leste     Thus was sche sauf fro this tempeste.     He hath hire fro the bordel take,     Bot that was noght for goddes sake,     Bot for the lucre, as sche him tolde.     Now comen tho that comen wolde    1480     Of wommen in her lusty youthe,     To hiere and se what thing sche couthe:     Sche can the wisdom of a clerk,     Sche can of every lusti werk     Which to a gentil womman longeth,     And some of hem sche underfongeth     To the Citole and to the Harpe,     And whom it liketh forto carpe     Proverbes and demandes slyhe,     An other such thei nevere syhe,        1490     Which that science so wel tawhte:     Wherof sche grete yiftes cawhte,     That sche to Leonin hath wonne;     And thus hire name is so begonne     Of sondri thinges that sche techeth,     That al the lond unto hir secheth     Of yonge wommen forto liere.     Nou lete we this maiden hiere,     And speke of Dionise ayein     And of Theophile the vilein,        1500     Of whiche I spak of nou tofore.     Whan Thaise scholde have be forlore,     This false cherl to his lady     Whan he cam hom, al prively     He seith, "Ma Dame, slain I have     This maide Thaise, and is begrave     In prive place, as ye me biede.     Forthi, ma dame, taketh hiede     And kep conseil, hou so it stonde."     This fend, which this hath understonde,    1510     Was glad, and weneth it be soth:     Now herkne, hierafter hou sche doth.     Sche wepth, sche sorweth, sche compleigneth,     And of sieknesse which sche feigneth     Sche seith that Taise sodeinly     Be nyhte is ded, "as sche and I     Togedre lyhen nyh my lord."     Sche was a womman of record,     And al is lieved that sche seith;     And forto yive a more feith,        1520     Hire housebonde and ek sche bothe     In blake clothes thei hem clothe,     And made a gret enterrement;     And for the poeple schal be blent,     Of Thaise as for the remembrance,     After the real olde usance     A tumbe of latoun noble and riche     With an ymage unto hir liche     Liggende above therupon     Thei made and sette it up anon.        1530     Hire Epitaffe of good assisse     Was write aboute, and in this wise     It spak: "O yee that this beholde,     Lo, hier lith sche, the which was holde     The faireste and the flour of alle,     Whos name Thai5sis men calle.     The king of Tyr Appolinus     Hire fader was: now lith sche thus.     Fourtiene yer sche was of Age,     Whan deth hir tok to his viage."     1540     Thus was this false treson hidd,     Which afterward was wyde kidd,     As be the tale a man schal hiere.     Bot forto clare mi matiere,     To Tyr I thenke torne ayein,     And telle as the Croniqes sein.     Whan that the king was comen hom,     And hath left in the salte fom     His wif, which he mai noght foryete,     For he som confort wolde gete,    1550     He let somoune a parlement,     To which the lordes were asent;     And of the time he hath ben oute,     He seth the thinges al aboute,     And told hem ek hou he hath fare,     Whil he was out of londe fare;     And preide hem alle to abyde,     For he wolde at the same tyde     Do schape for his wyves mynde,     As he that wol noght ben unkinde.    1560     Solempne was that ilke office,     And riche was the sacrifice,     The feste reali was holde:     And therto was he wel beholde;     For such a wif as he hadde on     In thilke daies was ther non.     Whan this was do, thanne he him thoghte     Upon his doghter, and besoghte     Suche of his lordes as he wolde,     That thei with him to Tharse scholde,        1570     To fette his doghter Taise there:     And thei anon al redy were,     To schip they gon and forth thei wente,     Til thei the havene of Tharse hente.     They londe and faile of that thei seche     Be coverture and sleyhte of speche:     This false man Strangulio,     And Dionise his wif also,     That he the betre trowe myhte,     Thei ladden him to have a sihte        1580     Wher that hir tombe was arraied.     The lasse yit he was mispaied,     And natheles, so as he dorste,     He curseth and seith al the worste     Unto fortune, as to the blinde,     Which can no seker weie finde;     For sche him neweth evere among,     And medleth sorwe with his song.     Bot sithe it mai no betre be,     He thonketh god and forth goth he    1590     Seilende toward Tyr ayein.     Bot sodeinly the wynd and reyn     Begonne upon the See debate,     So that he soffre mot algate     The lawe which Neptune ordeigneth;     Wherof fulofte time he pleigneth,     And hield him wel the more esmaied     Of that he hath tofore assaied.     So that for pure sorwe and care,     Of that he seth his world so fare,        1600     The reste he lefte of his Caban,     That for the conseil of noman     Ayein therinne he nolde come,     Bot hath benethe his place nome,     Wher he wepende al one lay,     Ther as he sih no lyht of day.     And thus tofor the wynd thei dryve,     Til longe and late thei aryve     With gret distresce, as it was sene,     Upon this toun of Mitelene,    1610     Which was a noble cite tho.     And hapneth thilke time so,     The lordes bothe and the comune     The hihe festes of Neptune     Upon the stronde at the rivage,     As it was custumme and usage,     Sollempneliche thei besihe.     Whan thei this strange vessel syhe     Come in, and hath his Seil avaled,     The toun therof hath spoke and taled.        1620     The lord which of the cite was,     Whos name is Athenagoras,     Was there, and seide he wolde se     What Schip it is, and who thei be     That ben therinne: and after sone,     Whan that he sih it was to done,     His barge was for him arraied,     And he goth forth and hath assaied.     He fond the Schip of gret Array,     Bot what thing it amonte may,     1630     He seth thei maden hevy chiere,     Bot wel him thenkth be the manere     That thei be worthi men of blod,     And axeth of hem hou it stod;     And thei him tellen al the cas,     Hou that here lord fordrive was,     And what a sorwe that he made,     Of which ther mai noman him glade.     He preith that he here lord mai se,     Bot thei him tolde it mai noght be,     1640     For he lith in so derk a place,     That ther may no wiht sen his face:     Bot for al that, thogh hem be loth,     He fond the ladre and doun he goth,     And to him spak, bot non ansuere     Ayein of him ne mihte he bere     For oght that he can don or sein;     And thus he goth him up ayein.     Tho was ther spoke in many wise     Amonges hem that weren wise,        1650     Now this, now that, bot ate laste     The wisdom of the toun this caste,     That yonge Taise were asent.     For if ther be amendement     To glade with this woful king,     Sche can so moche of every thing,     That sche schal gladen him anon.     A Messager for hire is gon,     And sche cam with hire Harpe on honde,     And seide hem that sche wolde fonde     1660     Be alle weies that sche can,     To glade with this sory man.     Bot what he was sche wiste noght,     Bot al the Schip hire hath besoght     That sche hire wit on him despende,     In aunter if he myhte amende,     And sein it schal be wel aquit.     Whan sche hath understonden it,     Sche goth hir doun, ther as he lay,     Wher that sche harpeth many a lay    1670     And lich an Angel sang withal;     Bot he nomore than the wal     Tok hiede of eny thing he herde.     And whan sche sih that he so ferde,     Sche falleth with him into wordes,     And telleth him of sondri bordes,     And axeth him demandes strange,     Wherof sche made his herte change,     And to hire speche his Ere he leide     And hath merveile of that sche seide.        1680     For in proverbe and in probleme     Sche spak, and bad he scholde deme     In many soubtil question:     Bot he for no suggestioun     Which toward him sche couthe stere,     He wolde noght o word ansuere,     Bot as a madd man ate laste     His heved wepende awey he caste,     And half in wraththe he bad hire go.     Bot yit sche wolde noght do so,        1690     And in the derke forth sche goth,     Til sche him toucheth, and he wroth,     And after hire with his hond     He smot: and thus whan sche him fond     Desesed, courtaisly sche saide,     "Avoi, mi lord, I am a Maide;     And if ye wiste what I am,     And out of what lignage I cam,     Ye wolde noght be so salvage."     With that he sobreth his corage        1700     And put awey his hevy chiere.     Bot of hem tuo a man mai liere     What is to be so sibb of blod:     Non wiste of other hou it stod,     And yit the fader ate laste     His herte upon this maide caste,     That he hire loveth kindely,     And yit he wiste nevere why.     Bot al was knowe er that thei wente;     For god, which wot here hol entente,    1710     Here hertes bothe anon descloseth.     This king unto this maide opposeth,     And axeth ferst what was hire name,     And wher sche lerned al this game,     And of what ken that sche was come.     And sche, that hath hise wordes nome,     Ansuerth and seith, "My name is Thaise,     That was som time wel at aise:     In Tharse I was forthdrawe and fed,     Ther lerned I, til I was sped,    1720     Of that I can. Mi fader eke     I not wher that I scholde him seke;     He was a king, men tolde me:     Mi Moder dreint was in the See."     Fro point to point al sche him tolde,     That sche hath longe in herte holde,     And nevere dorste make hir mone     Bot only to this lord al one,     To whom hire herte can noght hele,     Torne it to wo, torne it to wele,     1730     Torne it to good, torne it to harm.     And he tho toke hire in his arm,     Bot such a joie as he tho made     Was nevere sen; thus be thei glade,     That sory hadden be toforn.     Fro this day forth fortune hath sworn     To sette him upward on the whiel;     So goth the world, now wo, now wel:     This king hath founde newe grace,     So that out of his derke place    1740     He goth him up into the liht,     And with him cam that swete wiht,     His doghter Thaise, and forth anon     Thei bothe into the Caban gon     Which was ordeigned for the king,     And ther he dede of al his thing,     And was arraied realy.     And out he cam al openly,     Wher Athenagoras he fond,     The which was lord of al the lond:        1750     He preith the king to come and se     His castell bothe and his cite,     And thus thei gon forth alle in fiere,     This king, this lord, this maiden diere.     This lord tho made hem riche feste     With every thing which was honeste,     To plese with this worthi king,     Ther lacketh him no maner thing:     Bot yit for al his noble array     Wifles he was into that day,        1760     As he that yit was of yong Age;     So fell ther into his corage     The lusti wo, the glade peine     Of love, which noman restreigne     Yit nevere myhte as nou tofore.     This lord thenkth al his world forlore,     Bot if the king wol don him grace;     He waiteth time, he waiteth place,     Him thoghte his herte wol tobreke,     Til he mai to this maide speke    1770     And to hir fader ek also     For mariage: and it fell so,     That al was do riht as he thoghte,     His pourpos to an ende he broghte,     Sche weddeth him as for hire lord;     Thus be thei alle of on acord.     Whan al was do riht as thei wolde,     The king unto his Sone tolde     Of Tharse thilke traiterie,     And seide hou in his compaignie        1780     His doghter and himselven eke     Schull go vengance forto seke.     The Schipes were redy sone,     And whan thei sihe it was to done,     Withoute lette of eny wente     With Seil updrawe forth thei wente     Towardes Tharse upon the tyde.     Bot he that wot what schal betide,     The hihe god, which wolde him kepe,     Whan that this king was faste aslepe,        1790     Be nyhtes time he hath him bede     To seile into an other stede:     To Ephesim he bad him drawe,     And as it was that time lawe,     He schal do there his sacrifise;     And ek he bad in alle wise     That in the temple amonges alle     His fortune, as it is befalle,     Touchende his doghter and his wif     He schal beknowe upon his lif.    1800     The king of this Avisioun     Hath gret ymaginacioun,     What thing it signefie may;     And natheles, whan it was day,     He bad caste Ancher and abod;     And whil that he on Ancher rod,     The wynd, which was tofore strange,     Upon the point began to change,     And torneth thider as it scholde.     Tho knew he wel that god it wolde,        1810     And bad the Maister make him yare,     Tofor the wynd for he wol fare     To Ephesim, and so he dede.     And whanne he cam unto the stede     Where as he scholde londe, he londeth     With al the haste he may, and fondeth     To schapen him be such a wise,     That he may be the morwe arise     And don after the mandement     Of him which hath him thider sent.        1820     And in the wise that he thoghte,     Upon the morwe so he wroghte;     His doghter and his Sone he nom,     And forth unto the temple he com     With a gret route in compaignie,     Hise yiftes forto sacrifie.     The citezeins tho herden seie     Of such a king that cam to preie     Unto Diane the godesse,     And left al other besinesse,        1830     Thei comen thider forto se     The king and the solempnete.     With worthi knyhtes environed     The king himself hath abandoned     Into the temple in good entente.     The dore is up, and he in wente,     Wher as with gret devocioun     Of holi contemplacioun     Withinne his herte he made his schrifte;     And after that a riche yifte        1840     He offreth with gret reverence,     And there in open Audience     Of hem that stoden thanne aboute,     He tolde hem and declareth oute     His hap, such as him is befalle,     Ther was nothing foryete of alle.     His wif, as it was goddes grace,     Which was professed in the place,     As sche that was Abbesse there,     Unto his tale hath leid hire Ere:    1850     Sche knew the vois and the visage,     For pure joie as in a rage     Sche strawhte unto him al at ones,     And fell aswoune upon the stones,     Wherof the temple flor was paved.     Sche was anon with water laved,     Til sche cam to hirself ayein,     And thanne sche began to sein:     "Ha, blessed be the hihe sonde,     That I mai se myn housebonde,     1860     That whilom he and I were on!"     The king with that knew hire anon,     And tok hire in his Arm and kiste;     And al the toun thus sone it wiste.     Tho was ther joie manyfold,     For every man this tale hath told     As for miracle, and were glade,     Bot nevere man such joie made     As doth the king, which hath his wif.     And whan men herde hou that hir lif     1870     Was saved, and be whom it was,     Thei wondren alle of such a cas:     Thurgh al the Lond aros the speche     Of Maister Cerymon the leche     And of the cure which he dede.     The king himself tho hath him bede,     And ek this queene forth with him,     That he the toun of Ephesim     Wol leve and go wher as thei be,     For nevere man of his degre    1880     Hath do to hem so mochel good;     And he his profit understod,     And granteth with hem forto wende.     And thus thei maden there an ende,     And token leve and gon to Schipe     With al the hole felaschipe.     This king, which nou hath his desir,     Seith he wol holde his cours to Tyr.     Thei hadden wynd at wille tho,     With topseilcole and forth they go,     1890     And striken nevere, til thei come     To Tyr, where as thei havene nome,     And londen hem with mochel blisse.     Tho was ther many a mowth to kisse,     Echon welcometh other hom,     Bot whan the queen to londe com,     And Thaise hir doghter be hir side,     The joie which was thilke tyde     Ther mai no mannes tunge telle:     Thei seiden alle, "Hier comth the welle    1900     Of alle wommannysshe grace."     The king hath take his real place,     The queene is into chambre go:     Ther was gret feste arraied tho;     Whan time was, thei gon to mete,     Alle olde sorwes ben foryete,     And gladen hem with joies newe:     The descoloured pale hewe     Is now become a rody cheke,     Ther was no merthe forto seke,    1910     Bot every man hath that he wolde.     The king, as he wel couthe and scholde,     Makth to his poeple riht good chiere;     And after sone, as thou schalt hiere,     A parlement he hath sommoned,     Wher he his doghter hath coroned     Forth with the lord of Mitelene,     That on is king, that other queene:     And thus the fadres ordinance     This lond hath set in governance,    1920     And seide thanne he wolde wende     To Tharse, forto make an ende     Of that his doghter was betraied.     Therof were alle men wel paied,     And seide hou it was forto done:     The Schipes weren redi sone,     And strong pouer with him he tok;     Up to the Sky he caste his lok,     And syh the wynd was covenable.     Thei hale up Ancher with the cable,     1930     The Seil on hih, the Stiere in honde,     And seilen, til thei come alonde     At Tharse nyh to the cite;     And whan thei wisten it was he,     The toun hath don him reverence.     He telleth hem the violence,     Which the tretour Strangulio     And Dionise him hadde do     Touchende his dowhter, as yee herde;     And whan thei wiste hou that it ferde,     1940     As he which pes and love soghte,     Unto the toun this he besoghte,     To don him riht in juggement.     Anon thei were bothe asent     With strengthe of men, and comen sone,     And as hem thoghte it was to done,     Atteint thei were be the lawe     And diemed forto honge and drawe,     And brent and with the wynd toblowe,     That al the world it myhte knowe:    1950     And upon this condicion     The dom in execucion     Was put anon withoute faile.     And every man hath gret mervaile,     Which herde tellen of this chance,     And thonketh goddes pourveance,     Which doth mercy forth with justice.     Slain is the moerdrer and moerdrice     Thurgh verray trowthe of rihtwisnesse,     And thurgh mercy sauf is simplesse        1960     Of hire whom mercy preserveth;     Thus hath he wel that wel deserveth.     Whan al this thing is don and ended,     This king, which loved was and frended,     A lettre hath, which cam to him     Be Schipe fro Pentapolim,     Be which the lond hath to him write,     That he wolde understonde and wite     Hou in good mynde and in good pes     Ded is the king Artestrates,        1970     Wherof thei alle of on acord     Him preiden, as here liege lord,     That he the lettre wel conceive     And come his regne to receive,     Which god hath yove him and fortune;     And thus besoghte the commune     Forth with the grete lordes alle.     This king sih how it was befalle,     Fro Tharse and in prosperite     He tok his leve of that Cite        1980     And goth him into Schipe ayein:     The wynd was good, the See was plein,     Hem nedeth noght a Riff to slake,     Til thei Pentapolim have take.     The lond, which herde of that tidinge,     Was wonder glad of his cominge;     He resteth him a day or tuo     And tok his conseil to him tho,     And sette a time of Parlement,     Wher al the lond of on assent     1990     Forth with his wif hath him corouned,     Wher alle goode him was fuisouned.     Lo, what it is to be wel grounded:     For he hath ferst his love founded     Honesteliche as forto wedde,     Honesteliche his love he spedde     And hadde children with his wif,     And as him liste he ladde his lif;     And in ensample his lif was write,     That alle lovers myhten wite        2000     How ate laste it schal be sene     Of love what thei wolden mene.     For se now on that other side,     Antiochus with al his Pride,     Which sette his love unkindely,     His ende he hadde al sodeinly,     Set ayein kinde upon vengance,     And for his lust hath his penance.     Lo thus, mi Sone, myht thou liere     What is to love in good manere,        2010     And what to love in other wise:     The mede arist of the servise;     Fortune, thogh sche be noght stable,     Yit at som time is favorable     To hem that ben of love trewe.     Bot certes it is forto rewe     To se love ayein kinde falle,     For that makth sore a man to falle,     As thou myht of tofore rede.     Forthi, my Sone, I wolde rede     2020     To lete al other love aweie,     Bot if it be thurgh such a weie     As love and reson wolde acorde.     For elles, if that thou descorde,     And take lust as doth a beste,     Thi love mai noght ben honeste;     For be no skile that I finde     Such lust is noght of loves kinde.     Mi fader, hou so that it stonde,     Youre tale is herd and understonde,     2030     As thing which worthi is to hiere,     Of gret ensample and gret matiere,     Wherof, my fader, god you quyte.     Bot in this point miself aquite     I mai riht wel, that nevere yit     I was assoted in my wit,     Bot only in that worthi place     Wher alle lust and alle grace     Is set, if that danger ne were.     Bot that is al my moste fere:     2040     I not what ye fortune acompte,     Bot what thing danger mai amonte     I wot wel, for I have assaied;     For whan myn herte is best arraied     And I have al my wit thurghsoght     Of love to beseche hire oght,     For al that evere I skile may,     I am concluded with a nay:     That o sillable hath overthrowe     A thousend wordes on a rowe    2050     Of suche as I best speke can;     Thus am I bot a lewed man.     Bot, fader, for ye ben a clerk     Of love, and this matiere is derk,     And I can evere leng the lasse,     Bot yit I mai noght let it passe,     Youre hole conseil I beseche,     That ye me be som weie teche     What is my beste, as for an ende.     Mi Sone, unto the trouthe wende        2060     Now wol I for the love of thee,     And lete alle othre truffles be.     The more that the nede is hyh,     The more it nedeth to be slyh     To him which hath the nede on honde.     I have wel herd and understonde,     Mi Sone, al that thou hast me seid,     And ek of that thou hast me preid,     Nou at this time that I schal     As for conclusioun final    2070     Conseile upon thi nede sette:     So thenke I finaly to knette     This cause, where it is tobroke,     And make an ende of that is spoke.     For I behihte thee that yifte     Ferst whan thou come under my schrifte,     That thogh I toward Venus were,     Yit spak I suche wordes there,     That for the Presthod which I have,     Min ordre and min astat to save,     2080     I seide I wolde of myn office     To vertu more than to vice     Encline, and teche thee mi lore.     Forthi to speken overmore     Of love, which thee mai availe,     Tak love where it mai noght faile:     For as of this which thou art inne,     Be that thou seist it is a Sinne,     And Sinne mai no pris deserve,     Withoute pris and who schal serve,        2090     I not what profit myhte availe.     Thus folweth it, if thou travaile,     Wher thou no profit hast ne pris,     Thou art toward thiself unwis:     And sett thou myhtest lust atteigne,     Of every lust thende is a peine,     And every peine is good to fle;     So it is wonder thing to se,     Why such a thing schal be desired.     The more that a Stock is fyred,        2100     The rathere into Aisshe it torneth;     The fot which in the weie sporneth     Fulofte his heved hath overthrowe;     Thus love is blind and can noght knowe     Wher that he goth, til he be falle:     Forthi, bot if it so befalle     With good conseil that he be lad,     Him oghte forto ben adrad.     For conseil passeth alle thing     To him which thenkth to ben a king;     2110     And every man for his partie     A kingdom hath to justefie,     That is to sein his oghne dom.     If he misreule that kingdom,     He lest himself, and that is more     Than if he loste Schip and Ore     And al the worldes good withal:     For what man that in special     Hath noght himself, he hath noght elles,     Nomor the perles than the schelles;     2120     Al is to him of o value:     Thogh he hadde at his retenue     The wyde world ryht as he wolde,     Whan he his herte hath noght withholde     Toward himself, al is in vein.     And thus, my Sone, I wolde sein,     As I seide er, that thou aryse,     Er that thou falle in such a wise     That thou ne myht thiself rekevere;     For love, which that blind was evere,        2130     Makth alle his servantz blinde also.     My Sone, and if thou have be so,     Yit is it time to withdrawe,     And set thin herte under that lawe,     The which of reson is governed     And noght of will. And to be lerned,     Ensamples thou hast many on     Of now and ek of time gon,     That every lust is bot a while;     And who that wole himself beguile,        2140     He may the rathere be deceived.     Mi Sone, now thou hast conceived     Somwhat of that I wolde mene;     Hierafterward it schal be sene     If that thou lieve upon mi lore;     For I can do to thee nomore     Bot teche thee the rihte weie:     Now ches if thou wolt live or deie.     Mi fader, so as I have herd     Your tale, bot it were ansuerd,        2150     I were mochel forto blame.     Mi wo to you is bot a game,     That fielen noght of that I fiele;     The fielinge of a mannes Hiele     Mai noght be likned to the Herte:     I mai noght, thogh I wolde, asterte,     And ye be fre from al the peine     Of love, wherof I me pleigne.     It is riht esi to comaunde;     The hert which fre goth on the launde        2160     Not of an Oxe what him eileth;     It falleth ofte a man merveileth     Of that he seth an other fare,     Bot if he knewe himself the fare,     And felt it as it is in soth,     He scholde don riht as he doth,     Or elles werse in his degre:     For wel I wot, and so do ye,     That love hath evere yit ben used,     So mot I nedes ben excused.    2170     Bot, fader, if ye wolde thus     Unto Cupide and to Venus     Be frendlich toward mi querele,     So that myn herte were in hele     Of love which is in mi briest,     I wot wel thanne a betre Prest     Was nevere mad to my behove.     Bot al the whiles that I hove     In noncertein betwen the tuo,     And not if I to wel or wo        2180     Schal torne, that is al my drede,     So that I not what is to rede.     Bot for final conclusion     I thenke a Supplicacion     With pleine wordes and expresse     Wryte unto Venus the goddesse,     The which I preie you to bere     And bringe ayein a good ansuere.     Tho was betwen mi Prest and me     Debat and gret perplexete:     2190     Mi resoun understod him wel,     And knew it was sothe everydel     That he hath seid, bot noght forthi     Mi will hath nothing set therby.     For techinge of so wis a port     Is unto love of no desport;     Yit myhte nevere man beholde     Reson, wher love was withholde,     Thei be noght of o governance.     And thus we fellen in distance,        2200     Mi Prest and I, bot I spak faire,     And thurgh mi wordes debonaire     Thanne ate laste we acorden,     So that he seith he wol recorden     To speke and stonde upon mi syde     To Venus bothe and to Cupide;     And bad me wryte what I wolde,     And seith me trewly that he scholde     Mi lettre bere unto the queene.     And I sat doun upon the grene        2210     Fulfilt of loves fantasie,     And with the teres of myn ije     In stede of enke I gan to wryte     The wordes whiche I wolde endite     Unto Cupide and to Venus,     And in mi lettre I seide thus.     The wofull peine of loves maladie,     Ayein the which mai no phisique availe,     Min herte hath so bewhaped with sotie,     That wher so that I reste or I travaile,        2220     I finde it evere redy to assaile     Mi resoun, which that can him noght defende:     Thus seche I help, wherof I mihte amende.     Ferst to Nature if that I me compleigne,     Ther finde I hou that every creature     Som time ayer hath love in his demeine,     So that the litel wrenne in his mesure     Hath yit of kinde a love under his cure;     And I bot on desire, of which I misse:     And thus, bot I, hath every kinde his blisse.    2230     The resoun of my wit it overpasseth,     Of that Nature techeth me the weie     To love, and yit no certein sche compasseth     Hou I schal spede, and thus betwen the tweie     I stonde, and not if I schal live or deie.     For thogh reson ayein my will debate,     I mai noght fle, that I ne love algate.     Upon miself is thilke tale come,     Hou whilom Pan, which is the god of kinde,     With love wrastlede and was overcome:        2240     For evere I wrastle and evere I am behinde,     That I no strengthe in al min herte finde,     Wherof that I mai stonden eny throwe;     So fer mi wit with love is overthrowe.     Whom nedeth help, he mot his helpe crave,     Or helpeles he schal his nede spille:     Pleinly thurghsoght my wittes alle I have,     Bot non of hem can helpe after mi wille;     And als so wel I mihte sitte stille,     As preie unto mi lady eny helpe:     2250     Thus wot I noght wherof miself to helpe.     Unto the grete Jove and if I bidde,     To do me grace of thilke swete tunne,     Which under keie in his celier amidde     Lith couched, that fortune is overrunne,     Bot of the bitter cuppe I have begunne,     I not hou ofte, and thus finde I no game;     For evere I axe and evere it is the same.     I se the world stonde evere upon eschange,     Nou wyndes loude, and nou the weder softe;    2260     I mai sen ek the grete mone change,     And thing which nou is lowe is eft alofte;     The dredfull werres into pes fulofte     Thei torne; and evere is Danger in o place,     Which wol noght change his will to do me grace.     Bot upon this the grete clerc Ovide,     Of love whan he makth his remembrance,     He seith ther is the blinde god Cupide,     The which hath love under his governance,     And in his hond with many a fyri lance     2270     He woundeth ofte, ther he wol noght hele;     And that somdiel is cause of mi querele.     Ovide ek seith that love to parforne     Stant in the hond of Venus the goddesse,     Bot whan sche takth hir conseil with Satorne,     Ther is no grace, and in that time, I gesse,     Began mi love, of which myn hevynesse     Is now and evere schal, bot if I spede:     So wot I noght miself what is to rede.     Forthi to you, Cupide and Venus bothe,     2280     With al myn hertes obeissance I preie,     If ye were ate ferste time wrothe,     Whan I began to love, as I you seie,     Nou stynt, and do thilke infortune aweie,     So that Danger, which stant of retenue     With my ladi, his place mai remue.     O thou Cupide, god of loves lawe,     That with thi Dart brennende hast set afyre     Min herte, do that wounde be withdrawe,     Or yif me Salve such as I desire:    2290     For Service in thi Court withouten hyre     To me, which evere yit have kept thin heste,     Mai nevere be to loves lawe honeste.     O thou, gentile Venus, loves queene,     Withoute gult thou dost on me thi wreche;     Thou wost my peine is evere aliche grene     For love, and yit I mai it noght areche:     This wold I for my laste word beseche,     That thou mi love aquite as I deserve,     Or elles do me pleinly forto sterve.    2300     Whanne I this Supplicacioun     With good deliberacioun,     In such a wise as ye nou wite,     Hadde after min entente write     Unto Cupide and to Venus,     This Prest which hihte Genius     It tok on honde to presente,     On my message and forth he wente     To Venus, forto wite hire wille.     And I bod in the place stille,    2310     And was there bot a litel while,     Noght full the montance of a Mile,     Whan I behield and sodeinly     I sih wher Venus stod me by.     So as I myhte, under a tre     To grounde I fell upon mi kne,     And preide hire forto do me grace:     Sche caste hire chiere upon mi face,     And as it were halvinge a game     Sche axeth me what is mi name.    2320     "Ma dame," I seide, "John Gower."     "Now John," quod sche, "in my pouer     Thou most as of thi love stonde;     For I thi bille have understonde,     In which to Cupide and to me     Somdiel thou hast compleigned thee,     And somdiel to Nature also.     Bot that schal stonde among you tuo,     For therof have I noght to done;     For Nature is under the Mone        2330     Maistresse of every lives kinde,     Bot if so be that sche mai finde     Som holy man that wol withdrawe     His kindly lust ayein hir lawe;     Bot sielde whanne it falleth so,     For fewe men ther ben of tho,     Bot of these othre ynowe be,     Whiche of here oghne nycete     Ayein Nature and hire office     Deliten hem in sondri vice,    2340     Wherof that sche fulofte hath pleigned,     And ek my Court it hath desdeigned     And evere schal; for it receiveth     Non such that kinde so deceiveth.     For al onliche of gentil love     Mi court stant alle courtz above     And takth noght into retenue     Bot thing which is to kinde due,     For elles it schal be refused.     Wherof I holde thee excused,        2350     For it is manye daies gon,     That thou amonges hem were on     Which of my court hast ben withholde;     So that the more I am beholde     Of thi desese to commune,     And to remue that fortune,     Which manye daies hath the grieved.     Bot if my conseil mai be lieved,     Thou schalt ben esed er thou go     Of thilke unsely jolif wo,     2360     Wherof thou seist thin herte is fyred:     Bot as of that thou hast desired     After the sentence of thi bille,     Thou most therof don at my wille,     And I therof me wole avise.     For be thou hol, it schal suffise:     Mi medicine is noght to sieke     For thee and for suche olde sieke,     Noght al per chance as ye it wolden,     Bot so as ye be reson scholden,        2370     Acordant unto loves kinde.     For in the plit which I thee finde,     So as mi court it hath awarded,     Thou schalt be duely rewarded;     And if thou woldest more crave,     It is no riht that thou it have."     Venus, which stant withoute lawe     In noncertein, bot as men drawe     Of Rageman upon the chance,     Sche leith no peis in the balance,        2380     Bot as hir lyketh forto weie;     The trewe man fulofte aweie     Sche put, which hath hir grace bede,     And set an untrewe in his stede.     Lo, thus blindly the world sche diemeth     In loves cause, as tome siemeth:     I not what othre men wol sein,     Bot I algate am so besein,     And stonde as on amonges alle     Which am out of hir grace falle:     2390     It nedeth take no witnesse,     For sche which seid is the goddesse,     To whether part of love it wende,     Hath sett me for a final ende     The point wherto that I schal holde.     For whan sche hath me wel beholde,     Halvynge of scorn, sche seide thus:     "Thou wost wel that I am Venus,     Which al only my lustes seche;     And wel I wot, thogh thou beseche    2400     Mi love, lustes ben ther none,     Whiche I mai take in thi persone;     For loves lust and lockes hore     In chambre acorden neveremore,     And thogh thou feigne a yong corage,     It scheweth wel be the visage     That olde grisel is no fole:     There ben fulmanye yeres stole     With thee and with suche othre mo,     That outward feignen youthe so     2410     And ben withinne of pore assay.     Min herte wolde and I ne may     Is noght beloved nou adayes;     Er thou make eny suche assaies     To love, and faile upon the fet,     Betre is to make a beau retret;     For thogh thou myhtest love atteigne,     Yit were it bot an ydel peine,     Whan that thou art noght sufficant     To holde love his covenant.    2420     Forthi tak hom thin herte ayein,     That thou travaile noght in vein,     Wherof my Court may be deceived.     I wot and have it wel conceived,     Hou that thi will is good ynowh;     Bot mor behoveth to the plowh,     Wherof the lacketh, as I trowe:     So sitte it wel that thou beknowe     Thi fieble astat, er thou beginne     Thing wher thou miht non ende winne.    2430     What bargain scholde a man assaie,     Whan that him lacketh forto paie?     Mi Sone, if thou be wel bethoght,     This toucheth thee; foryet it noght:     The thing is torned into was;     That which was whilom grene gras,     Is welked hey at time now.     Forthi mi conseil is that thou     Remembre wel hou thou art old."     Whan Venus hath hir tale told,    2440     And I bethoght was al aboute,     Tho wiste I wel withoute doute,     That ther was no recoverir;     And as a man the blase of fyr     With water quencheth, so ferd I;     A cold me cawhte sodeinly,     For sorwe that myn herte made     Mi dedly face pale and fade     Becam, and swoune I fell to grounde.     And as I lay the same stounde,    2450     Ne fully quik ne fully ded,     Me thoghte I sih tofor myn hed     Cupide with his bowe bent,     And lich unto a Parlement,     Which were ordeigned for the nones,     With him cam al the world at ones     Of gentil folk that whilom were     Lovers, I sih hem alle there     Forth with Cupide in sondri routes.     Min yhe and as I caste aboutes,        2460     To knowe among hem who was who,     I sih wher lusty Youthe tho,     As he which was a Capitein,     Tofore alle othre upon the plein     Stod with his route wel begon,     Here hevedes kempt, and therupon     Garlandes noght of o colour,     Some of the lef, some of the flour,     And some of grete Perles were;     The newe guise of Beawme there,        2470     With sondri thinges wel devised,     I sih, wherof thei ben queintised.     It was al lust that thei with ferde,     Ther was no song that I ne herde,     Which unto love was touchende;     Of Pan and al that was likende     As in Pipinge of melodie     Was herd in thilke compaignie     So lowde, that on every side     It thoghte as al the hevene cride    2480     In such acord and such a soun     Of bombard and of clarion     With Cornemuse and Schallemele,     That it was half a mannes hele     So glad a noise forto hiere.     And as me thoghte, in this manere     Al freissh I syh hem springe and dance,     And do to love her entendance     After the lust of youthes heste.     Ther was ynowh of joie and feste,    2490     For evere among thei laghe and pleie,     And putten care out of the weie,     That he with hem ne sat ne stod.     And overthis I understod,     So as myn Ere it myhte areche,     The moste matiere of her speche     Was al of knyhthod and of Armes,     And what it is to ligge in armes     With love, whanne it is achieved.     Ther was Tristram, which was believed        2500     With bele Ysolde, and Lancelot     Stod with Gunnore, and Galahot     With his ladi, and as me thoghte,     I syh wher Jason with him broghte     His love, which that Creusa hihte,     And Hercules, which mochel myhte,     Was ther berende his grete Mace,     And most of alle in thilke place     He peyneth him to make chiere     With Eolen, which was him diere.     2510     These
s, thogh he were untrewe     To love, as alle wommen knewe,     Yit was he there natheles     With Phedra, whom to love he ches:     Of Grece ek ther was Thelamon,     Which fro the king Lamenedon     At Troie his doghter refte aweie,     Eseonen, as for his preie,     Which take was whan Jason cam     Fro Colchos, and the Cite nam     2520     In vengance of the ferste hate;     That made hem after to debate,     Whan Priamus the newe toun     Hath mad. And in avisioun     Me thoghte that I sih also     Ector forth with his brethren tuo;     Himself stod with Pantaselee,     And next to him I myhte se,     Wher Paris stod with faire Eleine,     Which was his joie sovereine;     2530     And Troilus stod with Criseide,     Bot evere among, althogh he pleide,     Be semblant he was hevy chiered,     For Diomede, as him was liered,     Cleymeth to ben his parconner.     And thus full many a bacheler,     A thousend mo than I can sein,     With Yowthe I sih ther wel besein     Forth with here loves glade and blithe.     And some I sih whiche ofte sithe     2540     Compleignen hem in other wise;     Among the whiche I syh Narcise     And Piramus, that sory were.     The worthy Grek also was there,     Achilles, which for love deide:     Agamenon ek, as men seide,     And Menelay the king also     I syh, with many an other mo,     Which hadden be fortuned sore     In loves cause. And overmore        2550     Of wommen in the same cas,     With hem I sih wher Dido was,     Forsake which was with Enee;     And Phillis ek I myhte see,     Whom Demephon deceived hadde;     And Adriagne hir sorwe ladde,     For These
s hir Soster tok     And hire unkindely forsok.     I sih ther ek among the press     Compleignende upon Hercules     2560     His ferste love Deyanire,     Which sette him afterward afyre:     Medea was there ek and pleigneth     Upon Jason, for that he feigneth,     Withoute cause and tok a newe;     Sche seide, "Fy on alle untrewe!"     I sih there ek Deijdamie,     Which hadde lost the compaignie     Of Achilles, whan Diomede     To Troie him fette upon the nede.    2570     Among these othre upon the grene     I syh also the wofull queene     Cleopatras, which in a Cave     With Serpentz hath hirself begrave     Alquik, and so sche was totore,     For sorwe of that sche hadde lore     Antonye, which hir love hath be:     And forth with hire I sih Tisbee,     Which on the scharpe swerdes point     For love deide in sory point;     2580     And as myn Ere it myhte knowe,     Sche seide, "Wo worthe alle slowe!"     The pleignte of Progne and Philomene     Ther herde I what it wolde mene,     How Tere
s of his untrouthe     Undede hem bothe, and that was routhe;     And next to hem I sih Canace,     Which for Machaire hir fader grace     Hath lost, and deide in wofull plit.     And as I sih in my spirit,     2590     Me thoghte amonges othre thus     The doghter of king Priamus,     Polixena, whom Pirrus slowh,     Was there and made sorwe ynowh,     As sche which deide gulteles     For love, and yit was loveles.     And forto take the desport,     I sih there some of other port,     And that was Circes and Calipse,     That cowthen do the Mone eclipse,    2600     Of men and change the liknesses,     Of Artmagique Sorceresses;     Thei hielde in honde manyon,     To love wher thei wolde or non.     Bot above alle that ther were     Of wommen I sih foure there,     Whos name I herde most comended:     Be hem the Court stod al amended;     For wher thei comen in presence,     Men deden hem the reverence,        2610     As thogh they hadden be goddesses,     Of al this world or Emperesses.     And as me thoghte, an Ere I leide,     And herde hou that these othre seide,     "Lo, these ben the foure wyves,     Whos feith was proeved in her lyves:     For in essample of alle goode     With Mariage so thei stode,     That fame, which no gret thing hydeth,     Yit in Cronique of hem abydeth."     2620     Penolope that on was hote,     Whom many a knyht hath loved hote,     Whil that hire lord Ulixes lay     Full many a yer and many a day     Upon the grete Siege of Troie:     Bot sche, which hath no worldes joie     Bot only of hire housebonde,     Whil that hir lord was out of londe,     So wel hath kept hir wommanhiede,     That al the world therof tok hiede,     2630     And nameliche of hem in Grece.     That other womman was Lucrece,     Wif to the Romain Collatin;     And sche constreigned of Tarquin     To thing which was ayein hir wille,     Sche wolde noght hirselven stille,     Bot deide only for drede of schame     In keping of hire goode name,     As sche which was on of the beste.     The thridde wif was hote Alceste,    2640     Which whanne Ametus scholde dye     Upon his grete maladye,     Sche preide unto the goddes so,     That sche receyveth al the wo     And deide hirself to yive him lif:     Lo, if this were a noble wif.     The ferthe wif which I ther sih,     I herde of hem that were nyh     Hou sche was cleped Alcione,     Which to Seyix hir lord al one    2650     And to nomo hire body kepte;     And whan sche sih him dreynt, sche lepte     Into the wawes where he swam,     And there a Sefoul sche becam,     And with hire wenges him bespradde     For love which to him sche hadde.     Lo, these foure were tho     Whiche I sih, as me thoghte tho,     Among the grete compaignie     Which Love hadde forto guye:        2660     Bot Youthe, which in special     Of Loves Court was Mareschal,     So besy was upon his lay,     That he non hiede where I lay     Hath take. And thanne, as I behield,     Me thoghte I sih upon the field,     Where Elde cam a softe pas     Toward Venus, ther as sche was.     With him gret compaignie he ladde,     Bot noght so manye as Youthe hadde:     2670     The moste part were of gret Age,     And that was sene in the visage,     And noght forthi, so as thei myhte,     Thei made hem yongly to the sihte:     Bot yit herde I no pipe there     To make noise in mannes Ere,     Bot the Musette I myhte knowe,     For olde men which souneth lowe,     With Harpe and Lute and with Citole.     The hovedance and the Carole,     2680     In such a wise as love hath bede,     A softe pas thei dance and trede;     And with the wommen otherwhile     With sobre chier among thei smyle,     For laghtre was ther non on hyh.     And natheles full wel I syh     That thei the more queinte it made     For love, in whom thei weren glade.     And there me thoghte I myhte se     The king David with Bersabee,     2690     And Salomon was noght withoute;     Passende an hundred on a route     Of wyves and of Concubines,     Juesses bothe and Sarazines,     To him I sih alle entendant:     I not if he was sufficant,     Bot natheles for al his wit     He was attached with that writ     Which love with his hond enseleth,     Fro whom non erthly man appeleth.    2700     And overthis, as for a wonder,     With his leon which he put under,     With Dalida Sampson I knew,     Whos love his strengthe al overthrew.     I syh there Aristotle also,     Whom that the queene of Grece so     Hath bridled, that in thilke time     Sche made him such a Silogime,     That he foryat al his logique;     Ther was non art of his Practique,        2710     Thurgh which it mihte ben excluded     That he ne was fully concluded     To love, and dede his obeissance.     And ek Virgile of aqueintance     I sih, wher he the Maiden preide,     Which was the doghter, as men seide,     Of themperour whilom of Rome;     Sortes and Plato with him come,     So dede Ovide the Poete.     I thoghte thanne how love is swete,     2720     Which hath so wise men reclamed,     And was miself the lasse aschamed,     Or forto lese or forto winne     In the meschief that I was inne:     And thus I lay in hope of grace.     And whan thei comen to the place     Wher Venus stod and I was falle,     These olde men with o vois alle     To Venus preiden for my sake.     And sche, that myhte noght forsake        2730     So gret a clamour as was there,     Let Pite come into hire Ere;     And forth withal unto Cupide     Sche preith that he upon his side     Me wolde thurgh his grace sende     Som confort, that I myhte amende,     Upon the cas which is befalle.     And thus for me thei preiden alle     Of hem that weren olde aboute,     And ek some of the yonge route,        2740     Of gentilesse and pure trouthe     I herde hem telle it was gret routhe,     That I withouten help so ferde.     And thus me thoghte I lay and herde.     Cupido, which may hurte and hele     In loves cause, as for myn hele     Upon the point which him was preid     Cam with Venus, wher I was leid     Swounende upon the grene gras.     And, as me thoghte , anon ther was        2750     On every side so gret presse,     That every lif began to presse,     I wot noght wel hou many score,     Suche as I spak of now tofore,     Lovers, that comen to beholde,     Bot most of hem that weren olde:     Thei stoden there at thilke tyde,     To se what ende schal betyde     Upon the cure of my sotie.     Tho myhte I hiere gret partie     2760     Spekende, and ech his oghne avis     Hath told, on that, an other this:     Bot among alle this I herde,     Thei weren wo that I so ferde,     And seiden that for no riote     An old man scholde noght assote;     For as thei tolden redely,     Ther is in him no cause why,     Bot if he wolde himself benyce;     So were he wel the more nyce.     2770     And thus desputen some of tho,     And some seiden nothing so,     Bot that the wylde loves rage     In mannes lif forberth non Age;     Whil ther is oyle forto fyre,     The lampe is lyhtly set afyre,     And is fulhard er it be queynt,     Bot only if it be som seint,     Which god preserveth of his grace.     And thus me thoghte, in sondri place    2780     Of hem that walken up and doun     Ther was diverse opinioun:     And for a while so it laste,     Til that Cupide to the laste,     Forth with his moder full avised,     Hath determined and devised     Unto what point he wol descende.     And al this time I was liggende     Upon the ground tofore his yhen,     And thei that my desese syhen     2790     Supposen noght I scholde live;     Bot he, which wolde thanne yive     His grace, so as it mai be,     This blinde god which mai noght se,     Hath groped til that he me fond;     And as he pitte forth his hond     Upon my body, wher I lay,     Me thoghte a fyri Lancegay,     Which whilom thurgh myn herte he caste,     He pulleth oute, and also faste        2800     As this was do, Cupide nam     His weie, I not where he becam,     And so dede al the remenant     Which unto him was entendant,     Of hem that in Avision     I hadde a revelacion,     So as I tolde now tofore.     Bot Venus wente noght therfore,     Ne Genius, whiche thilke time     Abiden bothe faste byme.    2810     And sche which mai the hertes bynde     In loves cause and ek unbinde,     Er I out of mi trance aros,     Venus, which hield a boiste clos,     And wolde noght I scholde deie,     Tok out mor cold than eny keie     An oignement, and in such point     Sche hath my wounded herte enoignt,     My temples and my Reins also.     And forth withal sche tok me tho     2820     A wonder Mirour forto holde,     In which sche bad me to beholde     And taken hiede of that I syhe;     Wherinne anon myn hertes yhe     I caste, and sih my colour fade,     Myn yhen dymme and al unglade,     Mi chiekes thinne, and al my face     With Elde I myhte se deface,     So riveled and so wo besein,     That ther was nothing full ne plein,    2830     I syh also myn heres hore.     Mi will was tho to se nomore     Outwith, for ther was no plesance;     And thanne into my remembrance     I drowh myn olde daies passed,     And as reson it hath compassed,     I made a liknesse of miselve     Unto the sondri Monthes twelve,     Wherof the yeer in his astat     Is mad, and stant upon debat,     2840     That lich til other non acordeth.     For who the times wel recordeth,     And thanne at Marche if he beginne,     Whan that the lusti yeer comth inne,     Til Augst be passed and Septembre,     The myhty youthe he may remembre     In which the yeer hath his deduit     Of gras, of lef, of flour, of fruit,     Of corn and of the wyny grape.     And afterward the time is schape     2850     To frost, to Snow, to Wind, to Rein,     Til eft that Mars be come ayein:     The Wynter wol no Somer knowe,     The grene lef is overthrowe,     The clothed erthe is thanne bare,     Despuiled is the Somerfare,     That erst was hete is thanne chele.     And thus thenkende thoghtes fele,     I was out of mi swoune affraied,     Wherof I sih my wittes straied,        2860     And gan to clepe hem hom ayein.     And whan Resoun it herde sein     That loves rage was aweie,     He cam to me the rihte weie,     And hath remued the sotie     Of thilke unwise fantasie,     Wherof that I was wont to pleigne,     So that of thilke fyri peine     I was mad sobre and hol ynowh.     Venus behield me than and lowh,        2870     And axeth, as it were in game,     What love was. And I for schame     Ne wiste what I scholde ansuere;     And natheles I gan to swere     That be my trouthe I knew him noght;     So ferr it was out of mi thoght,     Riht as it hadde nevere be.     "Mi goode Sone," tho quod sche,     "Now at this time I lieve it wel,     So goth the fortune of my whiel;     2880     Forthi mi conseil is thou leve."     "Ma dame," I seide, "be your leve,     Ye witen wel, and so wot I,     That I am unbehovely     Your Court fro this day forth to serve:     And for I may no thonk deserve,     And also for I am refused,     I preie you to ben excused.     And natheles as for the laste,     Whil that my wittes with me laste,        2890     Touchende mi confession     I axe an absolucion     Of Genius, er that I go."     The Prest anon was redy tho,     And seide, "Sone, as of thi schrifte     Thou hast ful pardoun and foryifte;     Foryet it thou, and so wol I."     "Min holi fader, grant mercy,"     Quod I to him, and to the queene     I fell on knes upon the grene,    2900     And tok my leve forto wende.     Bot sche, that wolde make an ende,     As therto which I was most able,     A Peire of Bedes blak as Sable     Sche tok and heng my necke aboute;     Upon the gaudes al withoute     Was write of gold, Por reposer.     "Lo," thus sche seide, "John Gower,     Now thou art ate laste cast,     This have I for thin ese cast,    2910     That thou nomore of love sieche.     Bot my will is that thou besieche     And preie hierafter for the pes,     And that thou make a plein reles     To love, which takth litel hiede     Of olde men upon the nede,     Whan that the lustes ben aweie:     Forthi to thee nys bot o weie,     In which let reson be thi guide;     For he may sone himself misguide,    2920     That seth noght the peril tofore.     Mi Sone, be wel war therfore,     And kep the sentence of my lore     And tarie thou mi Court nomore,     Bot go ther vertu moral duelleth,     Wher ben thi bokes, as men telleth,     Whiche of long time thou hast write.     For this I do thee wel to wite,     If thou thin hele wolt pourchace,     Thou miht noght make suite and chace,    2930     Wher that the game is nought pernable;     It were a thing unresonable,     A man to be so overseie.     Forthi tak hiede of that I seie;     For in the lawe of my comune     We be noght schape to comune,     Thiself and I, nevere after this.     Now have y seid al that ther is     Of love as for thi final ende:     Adieu, for y mot fro the wende."     2940     And with that word al sodeinly,     Enclosid in a sterred sky,     Venus, which is the qweene of love,     Was take in to hire place above,     More wiste y nought wher sche becam.     And thus my leve of hire y nam,     And forth with al the same tide     Hire prest, which wolde nought abide,     Or be me lief or be me loth,     Out of my sighte forth he goth,        2950     And y was left with outen helpe.     So wiste I nought wher of to yelpe,     Bot only that y hadde lore     My time, and was sori ther fore.     And thus bewhapid in my thought,     Whan al was turnyd in to nought,     I stod amasid for a while,     And in my self y gan to smyle     Thenkende uppon the bedis blake,     And how they weren me betake,     2960     For that y schulde bidde and preie.     And whanne y sigh non othre weie     Bot only that y was refusid,     Unto the lif which y hadde usid     I thoughte nevere torne ayein:     And in this wise, soth to seyn,     Homward a softe pas y wente,     Wher that with al myn hol entente     Uppon the point that y am schryve     I thenke bidde whil y live.    2970     He which withinne daies sevene     This large world forth with the hevene     Of his eternal providence     Hath mad, and thilke intelligence     In mannys soule resonable     Hath schape to be perdurable,     Wherof the man of his feture     Above alle erthli creature     Aftir the soule is immortal,     To thilke lord in special,     2980     As he which is of alle thinges     The creatour, and of the kynges     Hath the fortunes uppon honde,     His grace and mercy forto fonde     Uppon my bare knes y preie,     That he this lond in siker weie     Wol sette uppon good governance.     For if men takyn remembrance     What is to live in unite,     Ther ys no staat in his degree    2990     That noughte to desire pes,     With outen which, it is no les,     To seche and loke in to the laste,     Ther may no worldes joye laste.     Ferst forto loke the Clergie,     Hem oughte wel to justefie     Thing which belongith to here cure,     As forto praie and to procure     Oure pes toward the hevene above,     And ek to sette reste and love     3000     Among ous on this erthe hiere.     For if they wroughte in this manere     Aftir the reule of charite,     I hope that men schuldyn se     This lond amende. And ovyr this,     To seche and loke how that it is     Touchende of the chevalerie,     Which forto loke, in som partie     Is worthi forto be comendid,     And in som part to ben amendid,        3010     That of here large retenue     The lond is ful of maintenue,     Which causith that the comune right     In fewe contrees stant upright.     Extorcioun, contekt, ravine     Withholde ben of that covyne,     Aldai men hierin gret compleignte     Of the desease, of the constreignte,     Wher of the poeple is sore oppressid:     God graunte it mote be redressid.    3020     For of knyghthode thordre wolde     That thei defende and kepe scholde     The comun right and the fraunchise     Of holy cherche in alle wise,     So that no wikke man it dere,     And ther fore servith scheld and spere:     Bot for it goth now other weie,     Oure grace goth the more aweie.     And forto lokyn ovyrmore,     Wher of the poeple pleigneth sore,        3030     Toward the lawis of oure lond,     Men sein that trouthe hath broke his bond     And with brocage is goon aweie,     So that no man can se the weie     Wher forto fynde rightwisnesse.     And if men sechin sikernesse     Uppon the lucre of marchandie,     Compassement and tricherie     Of singuler profit to wynne,     Men seyn, is cause of mochil synne,     3040     And namely of divisioun,     Which many a noble worthi toun     Fro welthe and fro prosperite     Hath brought to gret adversite.     So were it good to ben al on,     For mechil grace ther uppon     Unto the Citees schulde falle,     Which myghte availle to ous alle,     If these astatz amendid were,     So that the vertus stodyn there        3050     And that the vices were aweie:     Me thenkth y dorste thanne seie,     This londis grace schulde arise.     Bot yit to loke in othre wise,     Ther is a stat, as ye schul hiere,     Above alle othre on erthe hiere,     Which hath the lond in his balance:     To him belongith the leiance     Of Clerk, of knyght, of man of lawe;     Undir his hond al is forth drawe     3060     The marchant and the laborer;     So stant it al in his power     Or forto spille or forto save.     Bot though that he such power have,     And that his myghtes ben so large,     He hath hem nought withouten charge,     To which that every kyng ys swore:     So were it good that he ther fore     First un to rightwisnesse entende,     Wherof that he hym self amende    3070     Toward his god and leve vice,     Which is the chief of his office;     And aftir al the remenant     He schal uppon his covenant     Governe and lede in such a wise,     So that ther be no tirandise,     Wherof that he his poeple grieve,     Or ellis may he nought achieve     That longith to his regalie.     For if a kyng wol justifie     3080     His lond and hem that beth withynne,     First at hym self he mot begynne,     To kepe and reule his owne astat,     That in hym self be no debat     Toward his god: for othre wise     Ther may non erthly kyng suffise     Of his kyngdom the folk to lede,     Bot he the kyng of hevene drede.     For what kyng sett hym uppon pride     And takth his lust on every side     3090     And wil nought go the righte weie,     Though god his grace caste aweie     No wondir is, for ate laste     He schal wel wite it mai nought laste,     The pompe which he secheth here.     Bot what kyng that with humble chere     Aftir the lawe of god eschuieth     The vices, and the vertus suieth,     His grace schal be suffisant     To governe al the remenant     3100     Which longith to his duite;     So that in his prosperite     The poeple schal nought ben oppressid,     Wherof his name schal be blessid,     For evere and be memorial.     And now to speke as in final,     Touchende that y undirtok     In englesch forto make a book     Which stant betwene ernest and game,     I have it maad as thilke same     3110     Which axe forto ben excusid,     And that my bok be nought refusid     Of lered men, whan thei it se,     For lak of curiosite:     For thilke scole of eloquence     Belongith nought to my science,     Uppon the forme of rethoriqe     My wordis forto peinte and pike,     As Tullius som tyme wrot.     Bot this y knowe and this y wot,     3120     That y have do my trewe peyne     With rude wordis and with pleyne,     In al that evere y couthe and myghte,     This bok to write as y behighte,     So as siknesse it soffre wolde;     And also for my daies olde,     That y am feble and impotent,     I wot nought how the world ys went.     So preye y to my lordis alle     Now in myn age, how so befalle,        3130     That y mot stonden in here grace:     For though me lacke to purchace     Here worthi thonk as by decerte,     Yit the symplesse of my poverte     Desireth forto do plesance     To hem undir whos governance     I hope siker to abide.     But now uppon my laste tide     That y this book have maad and write,     My muse doth me forto wite,    3140     And seith it schal be for my beste     Fro this day forth to take reste,     That y nomore of love make,     Which many an herte hath overtake,     And ovyrturnyd as the blynde     Fro reson in to lawe of kynde;     Wher as the wisdom goth aweie     And can nought se the ryhte weie     How to governe his oghne estat,     Bot everydai stant in debat    3150     Withinne him self, and can nought leve.     And thus forthy my final leve     I take now for evere more,     Withoute makynge any more,     Of love and of his dedly hele,     Which no phisicien can hele.     For his nature is so divers,     That it hath evere som travers     Or of to moche or of to lite,     That pleinly mai noman delite,    3160     Bot if him faile or that or this.     Bot thilke love which that is     Withinne a mannes herte affermed,     And stant of charite confermed,     Such love is goodly forto have,     Such love mai the bodi save,     Such love mai the soule amende,     The hyhe god such love ous sende     Forthwith the remenant of grace;     So that above in thilke place     3170     Wher resteth love and alle pes,     Oure joie mai ben endeles.     Explicit iste liber, qui transeat, obsecro liber,     Vt sine liuore vigeat lectoris in ore.     Qui sedet in scannis celi det vt ista lohannis     Perpetuis annis stet pagina grata Britannis,     Derbeie Comiti, recolunt quem laude periti,     Vade liber purus, sub eo requiesce futurus.     [End of CONFESSIO AMANTIS]