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

Inuidie culpa magis est attrita dolore,     Nam sua mens nullo tempore leta manet:     Quo gaudent alii, dolet ille, nec vnus amicus     Est, cui de puro comoda velle facit.     Proximitatis honor sua corda veretur, et omnis     Est sibi leticia sic aliena dolor.     Hoc etenim vicium quam sepe repugnat amanti,     Non sibi, set reliquis, dum fauet ipsa Venus.     Est amor ex proprio motu fantasticus, et que     Gaudia fert alius, credit obesse sibi.     Now after Pride the secounde     Ther is, which many a woful stounde     Towardes othre berth aboute     Withinne himself and noght withoute;     For in his thoght he brenneth evere,     Whan that he wot an other levere     Or more vertuous than he,     Which passeth him in his degre;     Therof he takth his maladie:     That vice is cleped hot Envie.     10     Forthi, my Sone, if it be so     Thou art or hast ben on of tho,     As forto speke in loves cas,     If evere yit thin herte was     Sek of an other mannes hele?     So god avance my querele,     Mi fader, ye, a thousend sithe:     Whanne I have sen an other blithe     Of love, and hadde a goodly chiere,     Ethna, which brenneth yer be yere,         20     Was thanne noght so hot as I     Of thilke Sor which prively     Min hertes thoght withinne brenneth.     The Schip which on the wawes renneth,     And is forstormed and forblowe,     Is noght more peined for a throwe     Than I am thanne, whanne I se     An other which that passeth me     In that fortune of loves yifte.     Bot, fader, this I telle in schrifte,         30     That is nowher bot in o place;     For who that lese or finde grace     In other stede, it mai noght grieve:     Bot this ye mai riht wel believe,     Toward mi ladi that I serve,     Thogh that I wiste forto sterve,     Min herte is full of such sotie,     That I myself mai noght chastie.     Whan I the Court se of Cupide     Aproche unto my ladi side         40     Of hem that lusti ben and freisshe,-     Thogh it availe hem noght a reisshe,     Bot only that thei ben in speche,-     My sorwe is thanne noght to seche:     Bot whan thei rounen in hire Ere,     Than groweth al my moste fere,     And namly whan thei talen longe;     My sorwes thanne be so stronge     Of that I se hem wel at ese,     I can noght telle my desese.         50     Bot, Sire, as of my ladi selve,     Thogh sche have wowers ten or twelve,     For no mistrust I have of hire     Me grieveth noght, for certes, Sire,     I trowe, in al this world to seche,     Nis womman that in dede and speche     Woll betre avise hire what sche doth,     Ne betre, forto seie a soth,     Kepe hire honour ate alle tide,     And yit get hire a thank beside.        60     Bot natheles I am beknowe,     That whanne I se at eny throwe,     Or elles if I mai it hiere,     That sche make eny man good chiere,     Thogh I therof have noght to done,     Mi thought wol entermette him sone.     For thogh I be miselve strange,     Envie makth myn herte change,     That I am sorghfully bestad     Of that I se an other glad        70     With hire; bot of other alle,     Of love what so mai befalle,     Or that he faile or that he spede,     Therof take I bot litel heede.     Now have I seid, my fader, al     As of this point in special,     Als ferforthli as I have wist.     Now axeth further what you list.     Mi Sone, er I axe eny more,     I thenke somdiel for thi lore        80     Telle an ensample of this matiere     Touchende Envie, as thou schalt hiere.     Write in Civile this I finde:     Thogh it be noght the houndes kinde     To ete chaf, yit wol he werne     An Oxe which comth to the berne,     Therof to taken eny fode.     And thus, who that it understode,     It stant of love in many place:     Who that is out of loves grace     90     And mai himselven noght availe,     He wolde an other scholde faile;     And if he may put eny lette,     He doth al that he mai to lette.     Wherof I finde, as thou schalt wite,     To this pourpos a tale write.     Ther ben of suche mo than twelve,     That ben noght able as of hemselve     To gete love, and for Envie     Upon alle othre thei aspie;     100     And for hem lacketh that thei wolde,     Thei kepte that non other scholde     Touchende of love his cause spede:     Wherof a gret ensample I rede,     Which unto this matiere acordeth,     As Ovide in his bok recordeth,     How Poliphemus whilom wroghte,     Whan that he Galathee besoghte     Of love, which he mai noght lacche.     That made him forto waite and wacche     110     Be alle weies how it ferde,     Til ate laste he knew and herde     How that an other hadde leve     To love there as he mot leve,     As forto speke of eny sped:     So that he knew non other red,     Bot forto wayten upon alle,     Til he may se the chance falle     That he hire love myhte grieve,     Which he himself mai noght achieve.        120     This Galathee, seith the Poete,     Above alle othre was unmete     Of beaute, that men thanne knewe,     And hadde a lusti love and trewe,     A Bacheler in his degree,     Riht such an other as was sche,     On whom sche hath hire herte set,     So that it myhte noght be let     For yifte ne for no beheste,     That sche ne was al at his heste.             130     This yonge knyht Acis was hote,     Which hire ayeinward als so hote     Al only loveth and nomo.     Hierof was Poliphemus wo     Thurgh pure Envie, and evere aspide,     And waiteth upon every side,     Whan he togedre myhte se     This yonge Acis with Galathe.     So longe he waiteth to and fro,     Til ate laste he fond hem tuo,     140     In prive place wher thei stode     To speke and have here wordes goode.     The place wher as he hem syh,     It was under a banke nyh     The grete See, and he above     Stod and behield the lusti love     Which ech of hem to other made     With goodly chiere and wordes glade,     That al his herte hath set afyre     Of pure Envie: and as a fyre         150     Which fleth out of a myhti bowe,     Aweie he fledde for a throwe,     As he that was for love wod,     Whan that he sih how that it stod.     This Polipheme a Geant was;     And whan he sih the sothe cas,     How Galathee him hath forsake     And Acis to hire love take,     His herte mai it noght forbere     That he ne roreth lich a Bere;     160     And as it were a wilde beste,     The whom no reson mihte areste,     He ran Ethna the hell aboute,     Wher nevere yit the fyr was oute,     Fulfild of sorghe and gret desese,     That he syh Acis wel at ese.     Til ate laste he him bethoghte,     As he which al Envie soghte,     And torneth to the banke ayein,     Wher he with Galathee hath seyn         170     Acis, whom that he thoghte grieve,     Thogh he himself mai noght relieve.     This Geant with his ruide myht     Part of the banke he schof doun riht,     The which evene upon Acis fell,     So that with fallinge of this hell     This Poliphemus Acis slowh,     Wherof sche made sorwe ynowh.     And as sche fledde fro the londe,     Neptunus tok hire into honde         180     And kept hire in so sauf a place     Fro Polipheme and his manace,     That he with al his false Envie     Ne mihte atteigne hir compaignie.     This Galathee of whom I speke,     That of hirself mai noght be wreke,     Withouten eny semblant feigned     Sche hath hire loves deth compleigned,     And with hire sorwe and with hire wo     Sche hath the goddes moeved so,         190     That thei of pite and of grace     Have Acis in the same place,     Ther he lai ded, into a welle     Transformed, as the bokes telle,     With freisshe stremes and with cliere,     As he whilom with lusti chiere     Was freissh his love forto qweme.     And with this ruide Polipheme     For his Envie and for his hate     Thei were wrothe. And thus algate,         200     Mi Sone, thou myht understonde,     That if thou wolt in grace stonde     With love, thou most leve Envie:     And as thou wolt for thi partie     Toward thi love stonde fre,     So most thou soffre an other be,     What so befalle upon the chaunce:     For it is an unwys vengance,     Which to non other man is lief,     And is unto himselve grief.     210     Mi fader, this ensample is good;     Bot how so evere that it stod     With Poliphemes love as tho,     It schal noght stonde with me so,     To worchen eny felonie     In love for no such Envie.     Forthi if ther oght elles be,     Now axeth forth, in what degre     It is, and I me schal confesse     With schrifte unto youre holinesse.        220     Mi goode Sone, yit ther is     A vice revers unto this,     Which envious takth his gladnesse     Of that he seth the hevinesse     Of othre men: for his welfare     Is whanne he wot an other care:     Of that an other hath a fall,     He thenkth himself arist withal.     Such is the gladschipe of Envie     In worldes thing, and in partie         230     Fulofte times ek also     In loves cause it stant riht so.     If thou, my Sone, hast joie had,     Whan thou an other sihe unglad,     Schrif the therof. Mi fader, yis:     I am beknowe unto you this.     Of these lovers that loven streyte,     And for that point which thei coveite     Ben poursuiantz fro yeer to yere     In loves Court, whan I may hiere        240     How that thei clymbe upon the whel,     And whan thei wene al schal be wel,     Thei ben doun throwen ate laste,     Thanne am I fedd of that thei faste,     And lawhe of that I se hem loure;     And thus of that thei brewe soure     I drinke swete, and am wel esed     Of that I wot thei ben desesed.     Bot this which I you telle hiere     Is only for my lady diere;        250     That for non other that I knowe     Me reccheth noght who overthrowe,     Ne who that stonde in love upriht:     Bot be he squier, be he knyht,     Which to my ladiward poursuieth,     The more he lest of that he suieth,     The mor me thenketh that I winne,     And am the more glad withinne     Of that I wot him sorwe endure.     For evere upon such aventure         260     It is a confort, as men sein,     To him the which is wo besein     To sen an other in his peine,     So that thei bothe mai compleigne.     Wher I miself mai noght availe     To sen an other man travaile,     I am riht glad if he be let;     And thogh I fare noght the bet,     His sorwe is to myn herte a game:     Whan that I knowe it is the same        270     Which to mi ladi stant enclined,     And hath his love noght termined,     I am riht joifull in my thoght.     If such Envie grieveth oght,     As I beknowe me coupable,     Ye that be wys and resonable,     Mi fader, telleth youre avis.     Mi Sone, Envie into no pris     Of such a forme, I understonde,     Ne mihte be no resoun stonde         280     For this Envie hath such a kinde,     That he wole sette himself behinde     To hindre with an othre wyht,     And gladly lese his oghne riht     To make an other lesen his.     And forto knowe how it so is,     A tale lich to this matiere     I thenke telle, if thou wolt hiere,     To schewe proprely the vice     Of this Envie and the malice.        290     Of Jupiter this finde I write,     How whilom that he wolde wite     Upon the pleigntes whiche he herde,     Among the men how that it ferde,     As of here wrong condicion     To do justificacion:     And for that cause doun he sente     An Angel, which about wente,     That he the sothe knowe mai.     So it befell upon a dai        300     This Angel, which him scholde enforme,     Was clothed in a mannes forme,     And overtok, I understonde,     Tuo men that wenten over londe,     Thurgh whiche he thoghte to aspie     His cause, and goth in compaignie.     This Angel with hise wordes wise     Opposeth hem in sondri wise,     Now lowde wordes and now softe,     That mad hem to desputen ofte,     310     And ech of hem his reson hadde.     And thus with tales he hem ladde     With good examinacioun,     Til he knew the condicioun,     What men thei were bothe tuo;     And sih wel ate laste tho,     That on of hem was coveitous,     And his fela was envious.     And thus, whan he hath knowlechinge,     Anon he feigneth departinge,         320     And seide he mot algate wende.     Bot herkne now what fell at ende:     For thanne he made hem understonde     That he was there of goddes sonde,     And seide hem, for the kindeschipe     That thei have don him felaschipe,     He wole hem do som grace ayein,     And bad that on of hem schal sein     What thing him is lievest to crave,     And he it schal of yifte have;     330     And over that ek forth withal     He seith that other have schal     The double of that his felaw axeth;     And thus to hem his grace he taxeth.     The coveitous was wonder glad,     And to that other man he bad     And seith that he ferst axe scholde:     For he supposeth that he wolde     Make his axinge of worldes good;     For thanne he knew wel how it stod,        340     That he himself be double weyhte     Schal after take, and thus be sleyhte,     Be cause that he wolde winne,     He bad his fela ferst beginne.     This Envious, thogh it be late,     Whan that he syh he mot algate     Make his axinge ferst, he thoghte,     If he worschipe or profit soghte,     It schal be doubled to his fiere:     That wolde he chese in no manere.     350     Bot thanne he scheweth what he was     Toward Envie, and in this cas     Unto this Angel thus he seide     And for his yifte this he preide,     To make him blind of his on yhe,     So that his fela nothing syhe.     This word was noght so sone spoke,     That his on yhe anon was loke,     And his felawh forthwith also     Was blind of bothe his yhen tuo.        360     Tho was that other glad ynowh,     That on wepte, and that other lowh,     He sette his on yhe at no cost,     Wherof that other two hath lost.     Of thilke ensample which fell tho,     Men tellen now fulofte so,     The world empeireth comunly:     And yit wot non the cause why;     For it acordeth noght to kinde     Min oghne harm to seche and finde     370     Of that I schal my brother grieve;     It myhte nevere wel achieve.     What seist thou, Sone, of this folie?     Mi fader, bot I scholde lie,     Upon the point which ye have seid     Yit was myn herte nevere leid,     Bot in the wise as I you tolde.     Bot overmore, if that ye wolde     Oght elles to my schrifte seie     Touchende Envie, I wolde preie.         380     Mi Sone, that schal wel be do:     Now herkne and ley thin Ere to.     Touchende as of Envious brod     I wot noght on of alle good;     Bot natheles, suche as thei be,     Yit is ther on, and that is he     Which cleped in Detraccioun.     And to conferme his accioun,     He hath withholde Malebouche,     Whos tunge neither pyl ne crouche     390     Mai hyre, so that he pronounce     A plein good word withoute frounce     Awher behinde a mannes bak.     For thogh he preise, he fint som lak,     Which of his tale is ay the laste,     That al the pris schal overcaste:     And thogh ther be no cause why,     Yit wole he jangle noght forthi,     As he which hath the heraldie     Of hem that usen forto lye.     400     For as the Netle which up renneth     The freisshe rede Roses brenneth     And makth hem fade and pale of hewe,     Riht so this fals Envious hewe,     In every place wher he duelleth,     With false wordes whiche he telleth     He torneth preisinge into blame     And worschipe into worldes schame.     Of such lesinge as he compasseth,     Is non so good that he ne passeth     410     Betwen his teeth and is bacbited,     And thurgh his false tunge endited:     Lich to the Scharnebudes kinde,     Of whos nature this I finde,     That in the hoteste of the dai,     Whan comen is the merie Maii,     He sprat his wynge and up he fleth:     And under al aboute he seth     The faire lusti floures springe,     Bot therof hath he no likinge;     420     Bot where he seth of eny beste     The felthe, ther he makth his feste,     And therupon he wole alyhte,     Ther liketh him non other sihte.     Riht so this janglere Envious,     Thogh he a man se vertuous     And full of good condicioun,     Therof makth he no mencioun:     Bot elles, be it noght so lyte,     Wherof that he mai sette a wyte,        430     Ther renneth he with open mouth,     Behinde a man and makth it couth.     Bot al the vertu which he can,     That wole he hide of every man,     And openly the vice telle,     As he which of the Scole of helle     Is tawht, and fostred with Envie     Of houshold and of compaignie,     Wher that he hath his propre office     To sette on every man a vice.        440     How so his mouth be comely,     His word sit evermore awry     And seith the worste that he may.     And in this wise now a day     In loves Court a man mai hiere     Fulofte pleigne of this matiere,     That many envious tale is stered,     Wher that it mai noght ben ansuered;     Bot yit fulofte it is believed,     And many a worthi love is grieved     450     Thurgh bacbitinge of fals Envie.     If thou have mad such janglerie     In loves Court, mi Sone, er this,     Schrif thee therof. Mi fader, yis:     Bot wite ye how? noght openly,     Bot otherwhile prively,     Whan I my diere ladi mete,     And thenke how that I am noght mete     Unto hire hihe worthinesse,     And ek I se the besinesse         460     Of al this yonge lusty route,     Whiche alday pressen hire aboute,     And ech of hem his time awaiteth,     And ech of hem his tale affaiteth,     Al to deceive an innocent,     Which woll noght ben of here assent;     And for men sein unknowe unkest,     Hire thombe sche holt in hire fest     So clos withinne hire oghne hond,     That there winneth noman lond;     470     Sche lieveth noght al that sche hiereth,     And thus fulofte hirself sche skiereth     And is al war of "hadde I wist":-     Bot for al that myn herte arist,     Whanne I thes comun lovers se,     That woll noght holden hem to thre,     Bot welnyh loven overal,     Min herte is Envious withal,     And evere I am adrad of guile,     In aunter if with eny wyle        480     Thei mihte hire innocence enchaunte.     Forthi my wordes ofte I haunte     Behynden hem, so as I dar,     Wherof my ladi may be war:     I sai what evere comth to mowthe,     And worse I wolde, if that I cowthe;     For whanne I come unto hir speche,     Al that I may enquere and seche     Of such deceipte, I telle it al,     And ay the werste in special.        490     So fayn I wolde that sche wiste     How litel thei ben forto triste,     And what thei wolde and what thei mente,     So as thei be of double entente:     Thus toward hem that wicke mene     My wicked word was evere grene.     And natheles, the soth to telle,     In certain if it so befelle     That althertrewest man ybore,     To chese among a thousend score,        500     Which were alfulli forto triste,     Mi ladi lovede, and I it wiste,     Yit rathere thanne he scholde spede,     I wolde swiche tales sprede     To my ladi, if that I myhte,     That I scholde al his love unrihte,     And therto wolde I do mi peine.     For certes thogh I scholde feigne,     And telle that was nevere thoght,     For al this world I myhte noght         510     To soffre an othre fully winne,     Ther as I am yit to beginne.     For be thei goode, or be thei badde,     I wolde non my ladi hadde;     And that me makth fulofte aspie     And usen wordes of Envie,     Al forto make hem bere a blame.     And that is bot of thilke same,     The whiche unto my ladi drawe,     For evere on hem I rounge and gknawe     520     And hindre hem al that evere I mai;     And that is, sothly forto say,     Bot only to my lady selve:     I telle it noght to ten ne tuelve,     Therof I wol me wel avise,     To speke or jangle in eny wise     That toucheth to my ladi name,     The which in ernest and in game     I wolde save into my deth;     For me were levere lacke breth     530     Than speken of hire name amis.     Now have ye herd touchende of this,     Mi fader, in confessioun:     And therfor of Detraccioun     In love, of that I have mispoke,     Tel how ye wole it schal be wroke.     I am al redy forto bere     Mi peine, and also to forbere     What thing that ye wol noght allowe;     For who is bounden, he mot bowe.        540     So wol I bowe unto youre heste,     For I dar make this beheste,     That I to yow have nothing hid,     Bot told riht as it is betid;     And otherwise of no mispeche,     Mi conscience forto seche,     I can noght of Envie finde,     That I mispoke have oght behinde     Wherof love owhte be mispaid.     Now have ye herd and I have said;     550     What wol ye, fader, that I do?     Mi Sone, do nomore so,     Bot evere kep thi tunge stille,     Thou miht the more have of thi wille.     For as thou saist thiselven here,     Thi ladi is of such manere,     So wys, so war in alle thinge,     It nedeth of no bakbitinge     That thou thi ladi mis enforme:     For whan sche knoweth al the forme,        560     How that thiself art envious,     Thou schalt noght be so gracious     As thou peraunter scholdest elles.     Ther wol noman drinke of tho welles     Whiche as he wot is puyson inne;     And ofte swich as men beginne     Towardes othre, swich thei finde,     That set hem ofte fer behinde,     Whan that thei wene be before.     Mi goode Sone, and thou therfore        570     Bewar and lef thi wicke speche,     Wherof hath fallen ofte wreche     To many a man befor this time.     For who so wole his handes lime,     Thei mosten be the more unclene;     For many a mote schal be sene,     That wolde noght cleve elles there;     And that schold every wys man fere:     For who so wol an other blame,     He secheth ofte his oghne schame,     580     Which elles myhte be riht stille.     Forthi if that it be thi wille     To stonde upon amendement,     A tale of gret entendement     I thenke telle for thi sake,     Wherof thou miht ensample take.     A worthi kniht in Cristes lawe     Of grete Rome, as is the sawe,     The Sceptre hadde forto rihte;     Tiberie Constantin he hihte,         590     Whos wif was cleped Ytalie:     Bot thei togedre of progenie     No children hadde bot a Maide;     And sche the god so wel apaide,     That al the wide worldes fame     Spak worschipe of hire goode name.     Constance, as the Cronique seith,     Sche hihte, and was so ful of feith,     That the greteste of Barbarie,     Of hem whiche usen marchandie,     600     Sche hath converted, as thei come     To hire upon a time in Rome,     To schewen such thing as thei broghte;     Whiche worthili of hem sche boghte,     And over that in such a wise     Sche hath hem with hire wordes wise     Of Cristes feith so full enformed,     That thei therto ben all conformed,     So that baptesme thei receiven     And alle here false goddes weyven.         610     Whan thei ben of the feith certein,     Thei gon to Barbarie ayein,     And ther the Souldan for hem sente     And axeth hem to what entente     Thei have here ferste feith forsake.     And thei, whiche hadden undertake     The rihte feith to kepe and holde,     The matiere of here tale tolde     With al the hole circumstance.     And whan the Souldan of Constance     620     Upon the point that thei ansuerde     The beaute and the grace herde,     As he which thanne was to wedde,     In alle haste his cause spedde     To sende for the mariage.     And furthermor with good corage     He seith, be so he mai hire have,     That Crist, which cam this world to save,     He woll believe: and this recorded,     Thei ben on either side acorded,        630     And therupon to make an ende     The Souldan hise hostages sende     To Rome, of Princes Sones tuelve:     Wherof the fader in himselve     Was glad, and with the Pope avised     Tuo Cardinals he hath assissed     With othre lordes many mo,     That with his doghter scholden go,     To se the Souldan be converted.     Bot that which nevere was wel herted,         640     Envie, tho began travaile     In destourbance of this spousaile     So prively that non was war.     The Moder which this Souldan bar     Was thanne alyve, and thoghte this     Unto hirself: "If it so is     Mi Sone him wedde in this manere,     Than have I lost my joies hiere,     For myn astat schal so be lassed."     Thenkende thus sche hath compassed         650     Be sleihte how that sche may beguile     Hire Sone; and fell withinne a while,     Betwen hem two whan that thei were,     Sche feigneth wordes in his Ere,     And in this wise gan to seie:     "Mi Sone, I am be double weie     With al myn herte glad and blithe,     For that miself have ofte sithe     Desired thou wolt, as men seith,     Receive and take a newe feith,     660     Which schal be forthringe of thi lif:     And ek so worschipful a wif,     The doughter of an Emperour,     To wedde it schal be gret honour.     Forthi, mi Sone, I you beseche     That I such grace mihte areche,     Whan that my doughter come schal,     That I mai thanne in special,     So as me thenkth it is honeste,     Be thilke which the ferste feste        670     Schal make unto hire welcominge."     The Souldan granteth hire axinge,     And sche therof was glad ynowh:     For under that anon sche drowh     With false wordes that sche spak     Covine of deth behinde his bak.     And therupon hire ordinance     She made so, that whan Constance     Was come forth with the Romeins,     Of clerkes and of Citezeins,                 680     A riche feste sche hem made:     And most whan that thei weren glade,     With fals covine which sche hadde     Hire clos Envie tho sche spradde,     And alle tho that hadden be     Or in apert or in prive     Of conseil to the mariage,     Sche slowh hem in a sodein rage     Endlong the bord as thei be set,     So that it myhte noght be let;     690     Hire oghne Sone was noght quit,     Bot deide upon the same plit.     Bot what the hihe god wol spare     It mai for no peril misfare:     This worthi Maiden which was there     Stod thanne, as who seith, ded for feere,     To se the feste how that it stod,     Which al was torned into blod:     The Dissh forthwith the Coppe and al     Bebled thei weren overal;         700     Sche sih hem deie on every side;     No wonder thogh sche wepte and cride     Makende many a wofull mone.     Whan al was slain bot sche al one,     This olde fend, this Sarazine,     Let take anon this Constantine     With al the good sche thider broghte,     And hath ordeined, as sche thoghte,     A nakid Schip withoute stiere,     In which the good and hire in fiere,     710     Vitailed full for yeres fyve,     Wher that the wynd it wolde dryve,     Sche putte upon the wawes wilde.     Bot he which alle thing mai schilde,     Thre yer, til that sche cam to londe,     Hire Schip to stiere hath take in honde,     And in Northumberlond aryveth;     And happeth thanne that sche dryveth     Under a Castel with the flod,     Which upon Humber banke stod         720     And was the kynges oghne also,     The which Allee was cleped tho,     A Saxon and a worthi knyht,     Bot he believed noght ariht.     Of this Castell was Chastellein     Elda the kinges Chamberlein,     A knyhtly man after his lawe;     And whan he sih upon the wawe     The Schip drivende al one so,     He bad anon men scholden go     730     To se what it betokne mai.     This was upon a Somer dai,     The Schip was loked and sche founde;     Elda withinne a litel stounde     It wiste, and with his wif anon     Toward this yonge ladi gon,     Wher that thei founden gret richesse;     Bot sche hire wolde noght confesse,     Whan thei hire axen what sche was.     And natheles upon the cas         740     Out of the Schip with gret worschipe     Thei toke hire into felaschipe,     As thei that weren of hir glade:     Bot sche no maner joie made,     Bot sorweth sore of that sche fond     No cristendom in thilke lond;     Bot elles sche hath al hire wille,     And thus with hem sche duelleth stille.     Dame Hermyngheld, which was the wif     Of Elda, lich hire oghne lif         750     Constance loveth; and fell so,     Spekende alday betwen hem two,     Thurgh grace of goddes pourveance     This maiden tawhte the creance     Unto this wif so parfitly,     Upon a dai that faste by     In presence of hire housebonde,     Wher thei go walkende on the Stronde,     A blind man, which cam there lad,     Unto this wif criende he bad,        760     With bothe hise hondes up and preide     To hire, and in this wise he seide:     "O Hermyngeld, which Cristes feith,     Enformed as Constance seith,     Received hast, yif me my sihte."     Upon his word hire herte afflihte     Thenkende what was best to done,     Bot natheles sche herde his bone     And seide, "In trust of Cristes lawe,     Which don was on the crois and slawe,         770     Thou bysne man, behold and se."     With that to god upon his kne     Thonkende he tok his sihte anon,     Wherof thei merveile everychon,     Bot Elda wondreth most of alle:     This open thing which is befalle     Concludeth him be such a weie,     That he the feith mot nede obeie.     Now lest what fell upon this thing.     This Elda forth unto the king        780     A morwe tok his weie and rod,     And Hermyngeld at home abod     Forth with Constance wel at ese.     Elda, which thoghte his king to plese,     As he that thanne unwedded was,     Of Constance al the pleine cas     Als goodliche as he cowthe tolde.     The king was glad and seide he wolde     Come thider upon such a wise     That he him mihte of hire avise,        790     The time apointed forth withal.     This Elda triste in special     Upon a knyht, whom fro childhode     He hadde updrawe into manhode:     To him he tolde al that he thoghte,     Wherof that after him forthoghte;     And natheles at thilke tide     Unto his wif he bad him ride     To make redi alle thing     Ayein the cominge of the king,     800     And seith that he himself tofore     Thenkth forto come, and bad therfore     That he him kepe, and told him whanne.     This knyht rod forth his weie thanne;     And soth was that of time passed     He hadde in al his wit compassed     How he Constance myhte winne;     Bot he sih tho no sped therinne,     Wherof his lust began tabate,     And that was love is thanne hate;     810     Of hire honour he hadde Envie,     So that upon his tricherie     A lesinge in his herte he caste.     Til he cam home he hieth faste,     And doth his ladi tunderstonde     The Message of hire housebonde:     And therupon the longe dai     Thei setten thinges in arrai,     That al was as it scholde be     Of every thing in his degree;        820     And whan it cam into the nyht,     This wif hire hath to bedde dyht,     Wher that this Maiden with hire lay.     This false knyht upon delay     Hath taried til thei were aslepe,     As he that wolde his time kepe     His dedly werkes to fulfille;     And to the bed he stalketh stille,     Wher that he wiste was the wif,     And in his hond a rasour knif        830     He bar, with which hire throte he cutte,     And prively the knif he putte     Under that other beddes side,     Wher that Constance lai beside.     Elda cam hom the same nyht,     And stille with a prive lyht,     As he that wolde noght awake     His wif, he hath his weie take     Into the chambre, and ther liggende     He fond his dede wif bledende,     840     Wher that Constance faste by     Was falle aslepe; and sodeinly     He cride alowd, and sche awok,     And forth withal sche caste a lok     And sih this ladi blede there,     Wherof swoundende ded for fere     Sche was, and stille as eny Ston     She lay, and Elda therupon     Into the Castell clepeth oute,     And up sterte every man aboute,         850     Into the chambre and forth thei wente.     Bot he, which alle untrouthe mente,     This false knyht, among hem alle     Upon this thing which is befalle     Seith that Constance hath don this dede;     And to the bed with that he yede     After the falshed of his speche,     And made him there forto seche,     And fond the knif, wher he it leide,     And thanne he cride and thanne he seide,         860     "Lo, seth the knif al blody hiere!     What nedeth more in this matiere     To axe?" And thus hire innocence     He sclaundreth there in audience     With false wordes whiche he feigneth.     Bot yit for al that evere he pleigneth,     Elda no full credence tok:     And happeth that ther lay a bok,     Upon the which, whan he it sih,     This knyht hath swore and seid on hih,        870     That alle men it mihte wite,     "Now be this bok, which hier is write,     Constance is gultif, wel I wot."     With that the hond of hevene him smot     In tokne of that he was forswore,     That he hath bothe hise yhen lore,     Out of his hed the same stounde     Thei sterte, and so thei weren founde.     A vois was herd, whan that they felle,     Which seide, "O dampned man to helle,         880     Lo, thus hath god the sclaundre wroke     That thou ayein Constance hast spoke:     Beknow the sothe er that thou dye."     And he told out his felonie,     And starf forth with his tale anon.     Into the ground, wher alle gon,     This dede lady was begrave:     Elda, which thoghte his honour save,     Al that he mai restreigneth sorwe.     For the seconde day a morwe     890     The king cam, as thei were acorded;     And whan it was to him recorded     What god hath wroght upon this chaunce,     He tok it into remembrance     And thoghte more than he seide.     For al his hole herte he leide     Upon Constance, and seide he scholde     For love of hire, if that sche wolde,     Baptesme take and Cristes feith     Believe, and over that he seith         900     He wol hire wedde, and upon this     Asseured ech til other is.     And forto make schorte tales,     Ther cam a Bisschop out of Wales     Fro Bangor, and Lucie he hihte,     Which thurgh the grace of god almihte     The king with many an other mo     Hath cristned, and betwen hem tuo     He hath fulfild the mariage.     Bot for no lust ne for no rage             910     Sche tolde hem nevere what sche was;     And natheles upon the cas     The king was glad, how so it stod,     For wel he wiste and understod     Sche was a noble creature.     The hihe makere of nature     Hire hath visited in a throwe,     That it was openliche knowe     Sche was with childe be the king,     Wherof above al other thing     920     He thonketh god and was riht glad.     And fell that time he was bestad     Upon a werre and moste ride;     And whil he scholde there abide,     He lefte at hom to kepe his wif     Suche as he knew of holi lif,     Elda forth with the Bisschop eke;     And he with pouer goth to seke     Ayein the Scottes forto fonde     The werre which he tok on honde.        930     The time set of kinde is come,     This lady hath hire chambre nome,     And of a Sone bore full,     Wherof that sche was joiefull,     Sche was delivered sauf and sone.     The bisshop, as it was to done,     Yaf him baptesme and Moris calleth;     And therupon, as it befalleth,     With lettres writen of record     Thei sende unto here liege lord,        940     That kepers weren of the qweene:     And he that scholde go betwene,     The Messager, to Knaresburgh,     Which toun he scholde passe thurgh,     Ridende cam the ferste day.     The kinges Moder there lay,     Whos rihte name was Domilde,     Which after al the cause spilde:     For he, which thonk deserve wolde,     Unto this ladi goth and tolde        950     Of his Message al how it ferde.     And sche with feigned joie it herde     And yaf him yiftes largely,     Bot in the nyht al prively     Sche tok the lettres whiche he hadde,     Fro point to point and overradde,     As sche that was thurghout untrewe,     And let do wryten othre newe     In stede of hem, and thus thei spieke:     "Oure liege lord, we thee beseke        960     That thou with ous ne be noght wroth,     Though we such thing as is thee loth     Upon oure trowthe certefie.     Thi wif, which is of faierie,     Of such a child delivered is     Fro kinde which stant al amis:     Bot for it scholde noght be seie,     We have it kept out of the weie     For drede of pure worldes schame,     A povere child and in the name     970     Of thilke which is so misbore     We toke, and therto we be swore,     That non bot only thou and we     Schal knowen of this privete:     Moris it hatte, and thus men wene     That it was boren of the qweene     And of thin oghne bodi gete.     Bot this thing mai noght be foryete,     That thou ne sende ous word anon     What is thi wille therupon."         980     This lettre, as thou hast herd devise,     Was contrefet in such a wise     That noman scholde it aperceive:     And sche, which thoghte to deceive,     It leith wher sche that other tok.     This Messager, whan he awok,     And wiste nothing how it was,     Aros and rod the grete pas     And tok this lettre to the king.     And whan he sih this wonder thing,         990     He makth the Messager no chiere,     Bot natheles in wys manere     He wrote ayein, and yaf hem charge     That thei ne soffre noght at large     His wif to go, bot kepe hire stille,     Til thei have herd mor of his wille.     This Messager was yifteles,     Bot with this lettre natheles,     Or be him lief or be him loth,     In alle haste ayein he goth     1000     Be Knaresburgh, and as he wente,     Unto the Moder his entente     Of that he fond toward the king     He tolde; and sche upon this thing     Seith that he scholde abide al nyht     And made him feste and chiere ariht,     Feignende as thogh sche cowthe him thonk.     Bot he with strong wyn which he dronk     Forth with the travail of the day     Was drunke, aslepe and while he lay,     1010     Sche hath hise lettres overseie     And formed in an other weie.     Ther was a newe lettre write,     Which seith: "I do you forto wite,     That thurgh the conseil of you tuo     I stonde in point to ben undo,     As he which is a king deposed.     For every man it hath supposed,     How that my wif Constance is faie;     And if that I, thei sein, delaie        1020     To put hire out of compaignie,     The worschipe of my Regalie     Is lore; and over this thei telle,     Hire child schal noght among hem duelle,     To cleymen eny heritage.     So can I se non avantage,     Bot al is lost, if sche abide:     Forthi to loke on every side     Toward the meschief as it is,     I charge you and bidde this,         1030     That ye the same Schip vitaile,     In which that sche tok arivaile,     Therinne and putteth bothe tuo,     Hireself forthwith hire child also,     And so forth broght unto the depe     Betaketh hire the See to kepe.     Of foure daies time I sette,     That ye this thing no longer lette,     So that your lif be noght forsfet."     And thus this lettre contrefet     1040     The Messager, which was unwar,     Upon the kingeshalve bar,     And where he scholde it hath betake.     Bot whan that thei have hiede take,     And rad that writen is withinne,     So gret a sorwe thei beginne,     As thei here oghne Moder sihen     Brent in a fyr before here yhen:     Ther was wepinge and ther was wo,     Bot finaly the thing is do.     1050     Upon the See thei have hire broght,     Bot sche the cause wiste noght,     And thus upon the flod thei wone,     This ladi with hire yonge Sone:     And thanne hire handes to the hevene     Sche strawhte, and with a milde stevene     Knelende upon hire bare kne     Sche seide, "O hihe mageste,     Which sest the point of every trowthe,     Tak of thi wofull womman rowthe                 1060     And of this child that I schal kepe."     And with that word sche gan to wepe,     Swounende as ded, and ther sche lay;     Bot he which alle thinges may     Conforteth hire, and ate laste     Sche loketh and hire yhen caste     Upon hire child and seide this:     "Of me no maner charge it is     What sorwe I soffre, bot of thee     Me thenkth it is a gret pite,        1070     For if I sterve thou schalt deie:     So mot I nedes be that weie     For Moderhed and for tendresse     With al myn hole besinesse     Ordeigne me for thilke office,     As sche which schal be thi Norrice."     Thus was sche strengthed forto stonde;     And tho sche tok hire child in honde     And yaf it sowke, and evere among     Sche wepte, and otherwhile song         1080     To rocke with hire child aslepe:     And thus hire oghne child to kepe     Sche hath under the goddes cure.     And so fell upon aventure,     Whan thilke yer hath mad his ende,     Hire Schip, so as it moste wende     Thurgh strengthe of wynd which god hath yive,     Estward was into Spaigne drive     Riht faste under a Castell wall,     Wher that an hethen Amirall     1090     Was lord, and he a Stieward hadde,     Oon Thelo
s, which al was badde,     A fals knyht and a renegat.     He goth to loke in what astat     The Schip was come, and there he fond     Forth with a child upon hire hond     This lady, wher sche was al one.     He tok good hiede of the persone,     And sih sche was a worthi wiht,     And thoghte he wolde upon the nyht         1100     Demene hire at his oghne wille,     And let hire be therinne stille,     That mo men sih sche noght that dai.     At goddes wille and thus sche lai,     Unknowe what hire schal betide;     And fell so that be nyhtes tide     This knyht withoute felaschipe     Hath take a bot and cam to Schipe,     And thoghte of hire his lust to take,     And swor, if sche him daunger make,        1110     That certeinly sche scholde deie.     Sche sih ther was non other weie,     And seide he scholde hire wel conforte,     That he ferst loke out ate porte,     That noman were nyh the stede,     Which myhte knowe what thei dede,     And thanne he mai do what he wolde.     He was riht glad that sche so tolde,     And to the porte anon he ferde:     Sche preide god, and he hire herde,        1120     And sodeinliche he was out throwe     And dreynt, and tho began to blowe     A wynd menable fro the lond,     And thus the myhti goddes hond     Hire hath conveied and defended.     And whan thre yer be full despended,     Hire Schip was drive upon a dai,     Wher that a gret Navye lay     Of Schipes, al the world at ones:     And as god wolde for the nones,         1130     Hire Schip goth in among hem alle,     And stinte noght, er it be falle     And hath the vessell undergete,     Which Maister was of al the Flete,     Bot there it resteth and abod.     This grete Schip on Anker rod;     The Lord cam forth, and whan he sih     That other ligge abord so nyh,     He wondreth what it myhte be,     And bad men to gon in and se.        1140     This ladi tho was crope aside,     As sche that wolde hireselven hide,     For sche ne wiste what thei were:     Thei soghte aboute and founde hir there     And broghten up hire child and hire;     And therupon this lord to spire     Began, fro whenne that sche cam,     And what sche was. Quod sche, "I am     A womman wofully bestad.     I hadde a lord, and thus he bad,        1150     That I forth with my litel Sone     Upon the wawes scholden wone,     Bot why the cause was, I not:     Bot he which alle thinges wot     Yit hath, I thonke him, of his miht     Mi child and me so kept upriht,     That we be save bothe tuo."     This lord hire axeth overmo     How sche believeth, and sche seith,     "I lieve and triste in Cristes feith,         1160     Which deide upon the Rode tree."     "What is thi name?" tho quod he.     "Mi name is Couste," sche him seide:     Bot forthermor for noght he preide     Of hire astat to knowe plein,     Sche wolde him nothing elles sein     Bot of hir name, which sche feigneth;     Alle othre thinges sche restreigneth,     That a word more sche ne tolde.     This lord thanne axeth if sche wolde     1170     With him abide in compaignie,     And seide he cam fro Barbarie     To Romeward, and hom he wente.     Tho sche supposeth what it mente,     And seith sche wolde with him wende     And duelle unto hire lyves ende,     Be so it be to his plesance.     And thus upon here aqueintance     He tolde hire pleinly as it stod,     Of Rome how that the gentil blod        1180     In Barbarie was betraied,     And therupon he hath assaied     Be werre, and taken such vengance,     That non of al thilke alliance,     Be whom the tresoun was compassed,     Is from the swerd alyve passed;     Bot of Constance hou it was,     That cowthe he knowe be no cas,     Wher sche becam, so as he seide.     Hire Ere unto his word sche leide,         1190     Bot forther made sche no chiere.     And natheles in this matiere     It happeth thilke time so:     This Lord, with whom sche scholde go,     Of Rome was the Senatour,     And of hir fader themperour     His brother doughter hath to wyve,     Which hath hir fader ek alyve,     And was Salustes cleped tho;     This wif Heleine hihte also,         1200     To whom Constance was Cousine.     Thus to the sike a medicine     Hath god ordeined of his grace,     That forthwith in the same place     This Senatour his trowthe plihte,     For evere, whil he live mihte,     To kepe in worschipe and in welthe,     Be so that god wol yive hire helthe,     This ladi, which fortune him sende.     And thus be Schipe forth sailende     1210     Hire and hir child to Rome he broghte,     And to his wif tho he besoghte     To take hire into compaignie:     And sche, which cowthe of courtesie     Al that a good wif scholde konne,     Was inly glad that sche hath wonne     The felaschip of so good on.     Til tuelve yeres were agon,     This Emperoures dowhter Custe     Forth with the dowhter of Saluste     1220     Was kept, bot noman redily     Knew what sche was, and noght forthi     Thei thoghten wel sche hadde be     In hire astat of hih degre,     And every lif hire loveth wel.     Now herke how thilke unstable whel,     Which evere torneth, wente aboute.     The king Allee, whil he was oute,     As thou tofore hast herd this cas,     Deceived thurgh his Moder was:     1230     Bot whan that he cam hom ayein,     He axeth of his Chamberlein     And of the Bisschop ek also,     Wher thei the qweene hadden do.     And thei answerde, there he bad,     And have him thilke lettre rad,     Which he hem sende for warant,     And tolde him pleinli as it stant,     And sein, it thoghte hem gret pite     To se so worthi on as sche,     1240     With such a child as ther was bore,     So sodeinly to be forlore.     He axeth hem what child that were;     And thei him seiden, that naghere,     In al the world thogh men it soghte,     Was nevere womman that forth broghte     A fairer child than it was on.     And thanne he axede hem anon,     Whi thei ne hadden write so:     Thei tolden, so thei hadden do.         1250     He seide, "Nay." Thei seiden, "Yis."     The lettre schewed rad it is,     Which thei forsoken everidel.     Tho was it understonde wel     That ther is tresoun in the thing:     The Messager tofore the king     Was broght and sodeinliche opposed;     And he, which nothing hath supposed     Bot alle wel, began to seie     That he nagher upon the weie         1260     Abod, bot only in a stede;     And cause why that he so dede     Was, as he wente to and fro,     At Knaresburgh be nyhtes tuo     The kinges Moder made him duelle.     And whan the king it herde telle,     Withinne his herte he wiste als faste     The treson which his Moder caste;     And thoghte he wolde noght abide,     Bot forth riht in the same tide         1270     He tok his hors and rod anon.     With him ther riden manion,     To Knaresburgh and forth thei wente,     And lich the fyr which tunder hente,     In such a rage, as seith the bok,     His Moder sodeinliche he tok     And seide unto hir in this wise:     "O beste of helle, in what juise     Hast thou deserved forto deie,     That hast so falsly put aweie        1280     With tresoun of thi bacbitinge     The treweste at my knowlechinge     Of wyves and the most honeste?     Bot I wol make this beheste,     I schal be venged er I go."     And let a fyr do make tho,     And bad men forto caste hire inne:     Bot ferst sche tolde out al the sinne,     And dede hem alle forto wite     How sche the lettres hadde write,     1290     Fro point to point as it was wroght.     And tho sche was to dethe broght     And brent tofore hire Sones yhe:     Wherof these othre, whiche it sihe     And herden how the cause stod,     Sein that the juggement is good,     Of that hir Sone hire hath so served;     For sche it hadde wel deserved     Thurgh tresoun of hire false tunge,     Which thurgh the lond was after sunge,        1300     Constance and every wiht compleigneth.     Bot he, whom alle wo distreigneth,     This sorghfull king, was so bestad,     That he schal nevermor be glad,     He seith, eftsone forto wedde,     Til that he wiste how that sche spedde,     Which hadde ben his ferste wif:     And thus his yonge unlusti lif     He dryveth forth so as he mai.     Til it befell upon a dai,         1310     Whan he hise werres hadde achieved,     And thoghte he wolde be relieved     Of Soule hele upon the feith     Which he hath take, thanne he seith     That he to Rome in pelrinage     Wol go, wher Pope was Pelage,     To take his absolucioun.     And upon this condicioun     He made Edwyn his lieutenant,     Which heir to him was apparant,         1320     That he the lond in his absence     Schal reule: and thus be providence     Of alle thinges wel begon     He tok his leve and forth is gon.     Elda, which tho was with him there,     Er thei fulliche at Rome were,     Was sent tofore to pourveie;     And he his guide upon the weie,     In help to ben his herbergour,     Hath axed who was Senatour,     1330     That he his name myhte kenne.     Of Capadoce, he seide, Arcenne     He hihte, and was a worthi kniht.     To him goth Elda tho forth riht     And tolde him of his lord tidinge,     And preide that for his comynge     He wolde assigne him herbergage;     And he so dede of good corage.     Whan al is do that was to done,     The king himself cam after sone.        1340     This Senatour, whan that he com,     To Couste and to his wif at hom     Hath told how such a king Allee     Of gret array to the Citee     Was come, and Couste upon his tale     With herte clos and colour pale     Aswoune fell, and he merveileth     So sodeinly what thing hire eyleth,     And cawhte hire up, and whan sche wok,     Sche syketh with a pitous lok        1350     And feigneth seknesse of the See;     Bot it was for the king Allee,     For joie which fell in hire thoght     That god him hath to toune broght.     This king hath spoke with the Pope     And told al that he cowthe agrope,     What grieveth in his conscience;     And thanne he thoghte in reverence     Of his astat, er that he wente,     To make a feste, and thus he sente         1360     Unto the Senatour to come     Upon the morwe and othre some,     To sitte with him at the mete.     This tale hath Couste noght foryete,     Bot to Moris hire Sone tolde     That he upon the morwe scholde     In al that evere he cowthe and mihte     Be present in the kinges sihte,     So that the king him ofte sihe.     Moris tofore the kinges yhe     1370     Upon the morwe, wher he sat,     Fulofte stod, and upon that     The king his chiere upon him caste,     And in his face him thoghte als faste     He sih his oghne wif Constance;     For nature as in resemblance     Of face hem liketh so to clothe,     That thei were of a suite bothe.     The king was moeved in his thoght     Of that he seth, and knoweth it noght;        1380     This child he loveth kindely,     And yit he wot no cause why.     Bot wel he sih and understod     That he toward Arcenne stod,     And axeth him anon riht there,     If that this child his Sone were.     He seide, "Yee, so I him calle,     And wolde it were so befalle,     Bot it is al in other wise."     And tho began he to devise        1390     How he the childes Moder fond     Upon the See from every lond     Withinne a Schip was stiereles,     And how this ladi helpeles     Forth with hir child he hath forthdrawe.     The king hath understonde his sawe,     The childes name and axeth tho,     And what the Moder hihte also     That he him wolde telle he preide.     "Moris this child is hote," he seide,         1400     "His Moder hatte Couste, and this     I not what maner name it is."     But Allee wiste wel ynowh,     Wherof somdiel smylende he lowh;     For Couste in Saxoun is to sein     Constance upon the word Romein.     Bot who that cowthe specefie     What tho fell in his fantasie,     And how his wit aboute renneth     Upon the love in which he brenneth,        1410     It were a wonder forto hiere:     For he was nouther ther ne hiere,     Bot clene out of himself aweie,     That he not what to thenke or seie,     So fain he wolde it were sche.     Wherof his hertes privete     Began the werre of yee and nay,     The which in such balance lay,     That contenance for a throwe     He loste, til he mihte knowe         1420     The sothe: bot in his memoire     The man which lith in purgatoire     Desireth noght the hevene more,     That he ne longeth al so sore     To wite what him schal betide.     And whan the bordes were aside     And every man was rise aboute,     The king hath weyved al the route,     And with the Senatour al one     He spak and preide him of a bone,     1430     To se this Couste, wher sche duelleth     At hom with him, so as he telleth.     The Senatour was wel appaied,     This thing no lengere is delaied,     To se this Couste goth the king;     And sche was warned of the thing,     And with Heleine forth sche cam     Ayein the king, and he tho nam     Good hiede, and whan he sih his wif,     Anon with al his hertes lif     1440     He cawhte hire in his arm and kiste.     Was nevere wiht that sih ne wiste     A man that more joie made,     Wherof thei weren alle glade     Whiche herde tellen of this chance.     This king tho with his wif Constance,     Which hadde a gret part of his wille,     In Rome for a time stille     Abod and made him wel at ese:     Bot so yit cowthe he nevere plese     1450     His wif, that sche him wolde sein     Of hire astat the trowthe plein,     Of what contre that sche was bore,     Ne what sche was, and yit therfore     With al his wit he hath don sieke.     Thus as they lihe abedde and spieke,     Sche preide him and conseileth bothe,     That for the worschipe of hem bothe,     So as hire thoghte it were honeste,     He wolde an honourable feste         1460     Make, er he wente, in the Cite,     Wher themperour himself schal be:     He graunteth al that sche him preide.     Bot as men in that time seide,     This Emperour fro thilke day     That ferst his dowhter wente away     He was thanne after nevere glad;     Bot what that eny man him bad     Of grace for his dowhter sake,     That grace wolde he noght forsake;         1470     And thus ful gret almesse he dede,     Wherof sche hadde many a bede.     This Emperour out of the toun     Withinne a ten mile enviroun,     Where as it thoghte him for the beste,     Hath sondry places forto reste;     And as fortune wolde tho,     He was duellende at on of tho.     The king Allee forth with thassent     Of Couste his wif hath thider sent         1480     Moris his Sone, as he was taght,     To themperour and he goth straght,     And in his fader half besoghte,     As he which his lordschipe soghte,     That of his hihe worthinesse     He wolde do so gret meknesse,     His oghne toun to come and se,     And yive a time in the cite,     So that his fader mihte him gete     That he wolde ones with him ete.        1490     This lord hath granted his requeste;     And whan the dai was of the feste,     In worschipe of here Emperour     The king and ek the Senatour     Forth with here wyves bothe tuo,     With many a lord and lady mo,     On horse riden him ayein;     Til it befell, upon a plein     Thei sihen wher he was comende.     With that Constance anon preiende     1500     Spak to hir lord that he abyde,     So that sche mai tofore ryde,     To ben upon his bienvenue     The ferste which schal him salue;     And thus after hire lordes graunt     Upon a Mule whyt amblaunt     Forth with a fewe rod this qweene.     Thei wondren what sche wolde mene,     And riden after softe pas;     Bot whan this ladi come was     1510     To themperour, in his presence     Sche seide alowd in audience,     "Mi lord, mi fader, wel you be!     And of this time that I se     Youre honour and your goode hele,     Which is the helpe of my querele,     I thonke unto the goddes myht."     For joie his herte was affliht     Of that sche tolde in remembrance;     And whanne he wiste it was Constance,         1520     Was nevere fader half so blithe.     Wepende he keste hire ofte sithe,     So was his herte al overcome;     For thogh his Moder were come     Fro deth to lyve out of the grave,     He mihte nomor wonder have     Than he hath whan that he hire sih.     With that hire oghne lord cam nyh     And is to themperour obeied;     Bot whan the fortune is bewreied,     1530     How that Constance is come aboute,     So hard an herte was non oute,     That he for pite tho ne wepte.     Arcennus, which hire fond and kepte,     Was thanne glad of that is falle,     So that with joie among hem alle     Thei riden in at Rome gate.     This Emperour thoghte al to late,     Til that the Pope were come,     And of the lordes sende some         1540     To preie him that he wolde haste:     And he cam forth in alle haste,     And whan that he the tale herde,     How wonderly this chance ferde,     He thonketh god of his miracle,     To whos miht mai be non obstacle:     The king a noble feste hem made,     And thus thei weren alle glade.     A parlement, er that thei wente,     Thei setten unto this entente,     1550     To puten Rome in full espeir     That Moris was apparant heir     And scholde abide with hem stille,     For such was al the londes wille.     Whan every thing was fulli spoke,     Of sorwe and queint was al the smoke,     Tho tok his leve Allee the king,     And with full many a riche thing,     Which themperour him hadde yive,     He goth a glad lif forto live;     1560     For he Constance hath in his hond,     Which was the confort of his lond.     For whan that he cam hom ayein,     Ther is no tunge it mihte sein     What joie was that ilke stounde     Of that he hath his qweene founde,     Which ferst was sent of goddes sonde,     Whan sche was drive upon the Stronde,     Be whom the misbelieve of Sinne     Was left, and Cristes feith cam inne     1570     To hem that whilom were blinde.     Bot he which hindreth every kinde     And for no gold mai be forboght,     The deth comende er he be soght,     Tok with this king such aqueintance,     That he with al his retenance     Ne mihte noght defende his lif;     And thus he parteth from his wif,     Which thanne made sorwe ynowh.     And therupon hire herte drowh                1580     To leven Engelond for evere     And go wher that sche hadde levere,     To Rome, whenne that sche cam:     And thus of al the lond sche nam     Hir leve, and goth to Rome ayein.     And after that the bokes sein,     She was noght there bot a throwe,     Whan deth of kinde hath overthrowe     Hir worthi fader, which men seide     That he betwen hire armes deide.        1590     And afterward the yer suiende     The god hath mad of hire an ende,     And fro this worldes faierie     Hath take hire into compaignie.     Moris hir Sone was corouned,     Which so ferforth was abandouned     To Cristes feith, that men him calle     Moris the cristeneste of alle.     And thus the wel meninge of love     Was ate laste set above;     1600     And so as thou hast herd tofore,     The false tunges weren lore,     Whiche upon love wolden lie.     Forthi touchende of this Envie     Which longeth unto bacbitinge,     Be war thou make no lesinge     In hindringe of an other wiht:     And if thou wolt be tawht ariht     What meschief bakbitinge doth     Be other weie, a tale soth        1610     Now miht thou hiere next suiende,     Which to this vice is acordende.     In a Cronique, as thou schalt wite,     A gret ensample I finde write,     Which I schal telle upon this thing.     Philippe of Macedoyne kyng     Two Sones hadde be his wif,     Whos fame is yit in Grece rif:     Demetrius the ferste brother     Was hote, and Perse
s that other.         1620     Demetrius men seiden tho     The betre knyht was of the tuo,     To whom the lond was entendant,     As he which heir was apparant     To regne after his fader dai:     Bot that thing which no water mai     Quenche in this world, bot evere brenneth,     Into his brother herte it renneth,     The proude Envie of that he sih     His brother scholde clymbe on hih,         1630     And he to him mot thanne obeie:     That may he soffre be no weie.     With strengthe dorst he nothing fonde,     So tok he lesinge upon honde,     Whan he sih time and spak therto.     For it befell that time so,     His fader grete werres hadde     With Rome, whiche he streite ladde     Thurgh mihty hond of his manhode,     As he which hath ynowh knihthode,     1640     And ofte hem hadde sore grieved.     Bot er the werre were achieved,     As he was upon ordinance     At hom in Grece, it fell per chance,     Demetrius, which ofte aboute     Ridende was, stod that time oute,     So that this Perse in his absence,     Which bar the tunge of pestilence,     With false wordes whiche he feigneth     Upon his oghne brother pleigneth        1650     In privete behinde his bak,     And to his fader thus he spak:     "Mi diere fader, I am holde     Be weie of kinde, as resoun wolde,     That I fro yow schal nothing hide,     Which mihte torne in eny side     Of youre astat into grevance:     Forthi myn hertes obeissance     Towardes you I thenke kepe;     For it is good ye take kepe     1660     Upon a thing which is me told.     Mi brother hath ous alle sold     To hem of Rome, and you also;     For thanne they behote him so,     That he with hem schal regne in pes.     Thus hath he cast for his encress     That youre astat schal go to noght;     And this to proeve schal be broght     So ferforth, that I undertake     It schal noght wel mow be forsake."        1670     The king upon this tale ansuerde     And seide, if this thing which he herde     Be soth and mai be broght to prove,     "It schal noght be to his behove,     Which so hath schapen ous the werste,     For he himself schal be the ferste     That schal be ded, if that I mai."     Thus afterward upon a dai,     Whan that Demetrius was come,     Anon his fader hath him nome,        1680     And bad unto his brother Perse     That he his tale schal reherse     Of thilke tresoun which he tolde.     And he, which al untrowthe wolde,     Conseileth that so hih a nede     Be treted wher as it mai spede,     In comun place of juggement.     The king therto yaf his assent,     Demetrius was put in hold,     Wherof that Perse
s was bold.             1690     Thus stod the trowthe under the charge,     And the falshede goth at large,     Which thurgh beheste hath overcome     The greteste of the lordes some,     That privelich of his acord     Thei stonde as witnesse of record:     The jugge was mad favorable:     Thus was the lawe deceivable     So ferforth that the trowthe fond     Rescousse non, and thus the lond        1700     Forth with the king deceived were.     The gulteles was dampned there     And deide upon accusement:     Bot such a fals conspirement,     Thogh it be prive for a throwe,     Godd wolde noght it were unknowe;     And that was afterward wel proved     In him which hath the deth controved.     Of that his brother was so slain     This Perse
s was wonder fain,     1710     As he that tho was apparant,     Upon the Regne and expectant;     Wherof he wax so proud and vein,     That he his fader in desdeign     Hath take and set of non acompte,     As he which thoghte him to surmonte;     That wher he was ferst debonaire,     He was tho rebell and contraire,     And noght as heir bot as a king     He tok upon him alle thing        1720     Of malice and of tirannie     In contempt of the Regalie,     Livende his fader, and so wroghte,     That whan the fader him bethoghte     And sih to whether side it drowh,     Anon he wiste well ynowh     How Perse after his false tunge     Hath so thenvious belle runge,     That he hath slain his oghne brother.     Wherof as thanne he knew non other,        1730     Bot sodeinly the jugge he nom,     Which corrupt sat upon the dom,     In such a wise and hath him pressed,     That he the sothe him hath confessed     Of al that hath be spoke and do.     Mor sori than the king was tho     Was nevere man upon this Molde,     And thoghte in certain that he wolde     Vengance take upon this wrong.     Bot thother parti was so strong,        1740     That for the lawe of no statut     Ther mai no riht ben execut;     And upon this division     The lond was torned up so doun:     Wherof his herte is so distraght,     That he for pure sorwe hath caght     The maladie of which nature     Is queint in every creature.     And whan this king was passed thus,     This false tunged Perse
s        1750     The regiment hath underfonge.     Bot ther mai nothing stonde longe     Which is noght upon trowthe grounded;     For god, which alle thing hath bounded     And sih the falshod of his guile,     Hath set him bot a litel while,     That he schal regne upon depos;     For sodeinliche as he aros     So sodeinliche doun he fell.     In thilke time it so befell,         1760     This newe king of newe Pride     With strengthe schop him forto ride,     And seide he wolde Rome waste,     Wherof he made a besi haste,     And hath assembled him an host     In al that evere he mihte most:     What man that mihte wepne bere     Of alle he wolde non forbere;     So that it mihte noght be nombred,     The folk which after was encombred         1770     Thurgh him, that god wolde overthrowe.     Anon it was at Rome knowe,     The pompe which that Perse ladde;     And the Romeins that time hadde     A Consul, which was cleped thus     Be name, Paul Emilius,     A noble, a worthi kniht withalle;     And he, which chief was of hem alle,     This werre on honde hath undertake.     And whanne he scholde his leve take        1780     Of a yong dowhter which was his,     Sche wepte, and he what cause it is     Hire axeth, and sche him ansuerde     That Perse is ded; and he it herde,     And wondreth what sche meene wolde:     And sche upon childhode him tolde     That Perse hir litel hound is ded.     With that he pulleth up his hed     And made riht a glad visage,     And seide how that was a presage        1790     Touchende unto that other Perse,     Of that fortune him scholde adverse,     He seith, for such a prenostik     Most of an hound was to him lik:     For as it is an houndes kinde     To berke upon a man behinde,     Riht so behinde his brother bak     With false wordes whiche he spak     He hath do slain, and that is rowthe.     "Bot he which hateth alle untrowthe,     1800     The hihe god, it schal redresse;     For so my dowhter prophetesse     Forth with hir litel houndes deth     Betokneth." And thus forth he geth     Conforted of this evidence,     With the Romeins in his defence     Ayein the Greks that ben comende.     This Perse
s, as noght seende     This meschief which that him abod,     With al his multitude rod,        1810     And prided him upon the thing,     Of that he was become a king,     And how he hadde his regne gete;     Bot he hath al the riht foryete     Which longeth unto governance.     Wherof thurgh goddes ordinance     It fell, upon the wynter tide     That with his host he scholde ride     Over Danubie thilke flod,     Which al befrose thanne stod         1820     So harde, that he wende wel     To passe: bot the blinde whiel,     Which torneth ofte er men be war,     Thilke ys which that the horsmen bar     Tobrak, so that a gret partie     Was dreint; of the chivalerie     The rerewarde it tok aweie,     Cam non of hem to londe dreie.     Paulus the worthi kniht Romein     Be his aspie it herde sein,     1830     And hasteth him al that he may,     So that upon that other day     He cam wher he this host beheld,     And that was in a large feld,     Wher the Baneres ben desplaied.     He hath anon hise men arraied,     And whan that he was embatailled,     He goth and hath the feld assailed,     And slowh and tok al that he fond;     Wherof the Macedoyne lond,                1840     Which thurgh king Alisandre honoured     Long time stod, was tho devoured.     To Perse and al that infortune     Thei wyte, so that the comune     Of al the lond his heir exile;     And he despeired for the while     Desguised in a povere wede     To Rome goth, and ther for nede     The craft which thilke time was,     To worche in latoun and in bras,        1850     He lerneth for his sustienance.     Such was the Sones pourveance,     And of his fader it is seid,     In strong prisoun that he was leid     In Albe, wher that he was ded     For hunger and defalte of bred.     The hound was tokne and prophecie     That lich an hound he scholde die,     Which lich was of condicioun,     Whan he with his detraccioun         1860     Bark on his brother so behinde.     Lo, what profit a man mai finde,     Which hindre wole an other wiht.     Forthi with al thin hole miht,     Mi Sone, eschuie thilke vice.     Mi fader, elles were I nyce:     For ye therof so wel have spoke,     That it is in myn herte loke     And evere schal: bot of Envie,     If ther be more in his baillie     1870     Towardes love, sai me what.     Mi Sone, as guile under the hat     With sleyhtes of a tregetour     Is hidd, Envie of such colour     Hath yit the ferthe deceivant,     The which is cleped Falssemblant,     Wherof the matiere and the forme     Now herkne and I thee schal enforme.     Of Falssemblant if I schal telle,     Above alle othre it is the welle        1880     Out of the which deceipte floweth.     Ther is noman so wys that knoweth     Of thilke flod which is the tyde,     Ne how he scholde himselven guide     To take sauf passage there.     And yit the wynd to mannes Ere     Is softe, and as it semeth oute     It makth clier weder al aboute;     Bot thogh it seme, it is noght so.     For Falssemblant hath everemo        1890     Of his conseil in compaignie     The derke untrewe Ypocrisie,     Whos word descordeth to his thoght:     Forthi thei ben togedre broght     Of o covine, of on houshold,     As it schal after this be told.     Of Falssemblant it nedeth noght     To telle of olde ensamples oght;     For al dai in experience     A man mai se thilke evidence         1900     Of faire wordes whiche he hiereth;     Bot yit the barge Envie stiereth     And halt it evere fro the londe,     Wher Falssemblant with Ore on honde     It roweth, and wol noght arive,     Bot let it on the wawes dryve     In gret tempeste and gret debat,     Wherof that love and his astat     Empeireth. And therfore I rede,     Mi Sone, that thou fle and drede        1910     This vice, and what that othre sein,     Let thi Semblant be trewe and plein.     For Falssemblant is thilke vice,     Which nevere was withoute office:     Wher that Envie thenkth to guile,     He schal be for that ilke while     Of prive conseil Messagier.     For whan his semblant is most clier,     Thanne is he most derk in his thoght,     Thogh men him se, thei knowe him noght;     1920     Bot as it scheweth in the glas     Thing which therinne nevere was,     So scheweth it in his visage     That nevere was in his corage:     Thus doth he al his thing with sleyhte.     Now ley thi conscience in weyhte,     Mi goode Sone, and schrif the hier,     If thou were evere Custummer     To Falssemblant in eny wise.     For ought I can me yit avise,        1930     Mi goode fader, certes no.     If I for love have oght do so,     Now asketh, I wol praie yow:     For elles I wot nevere how     Of Falssemblant that I have gilt.     Mi Sone, and sithen that thou wilt     That I schal axe, gabbe noght,     Bot tell if evere was thi thoght     With Falssemblant and coverture     To wite of eny creature        1940     How that he was with love lad;     So were he sori, were he glad,     Whan that thou wistest how it were,     Al that he rounede in thin Ere     Thou toldest forth in other place,     To setten him fro loves grace     Of what womman that thee beste liste,     Ther as noman his conseil wiste     Bot thou, be whom he was deceived     Of love, and from his pourpos weyved;         1950     And thoghtest that his destourbance     Thin oghne cause scholde avance,     As who saith, "I am so celee,     Ther mai no mannes privete     Be heled half so wel as myn."     Art thou, mi Sone, of such engin?     Tell on. Mi goode fader, nay     As for the more part I say;     Bot of somdiel I am beknowe,     That I mai stonde in thilke rowe        1960     Amonges hem that Saundres use.     I wol me noght therof excuse,     That I with such colour ne steyne,     Whan I my beste Semblant feigne     To my felawh, til that I wot     Al his conseil bothe cold and hot:     For be that cause I make him chiere,     Til I his love knowe and hiere;     And if so be myn herte soucheth     That oght unto my ladi toucheth         1970     Of love that he wol me telle,     Anon I renne unto the welle     And caste water in the fyr,     So that his carte amidd the Myr,     Be that I have his conseil knowe,     Fulofte sithe I overthrowe,     Whan that he weneth best to stonde.     Bot this I do you understonde,     If that a man love elles where,     So that my ladi be noght there,         1980     And he me telle, I wole it hide,     Ther schal no word ascape aside,     For with deceipte of no semblant     To him breke I no covenant;     Me liketh noght in other place     To lette noman of his grace,     Ne forto ben inquisitif     To knowe an other mannes lif:     Wher that he love or love noght,     That toucheth nothing to my thoght,        1990     Bot al it passeth thurgh myn Ere     Riht as a thing that nevere were,     And is foryete and leid beside.     Bot if it touche on eny side     Mi ladi, as I have er spoken,     Myn Eres ben noght thanne loken;     For certes, whanne that betitt,     My will, myn herte and al my witt     Ben fully set to herkne and spire     What eny man wol speke of hire.         2000     Thus have I feigned compaignie     Fulofte, for I wolde aspie     What thing it is that eny man     Telle of mi worthi lady can:     And for tuo causes I do this,     The ferste cause wherof is,-     If that I myhte ofherkne and seke     That eny man of hire mispeke,     I wolde excuse hire so fully,     That whan sche wist in inderly,         2010     Min hope scholde be the more     To have hir thank for everemore.     That other cause, I you assure,     Is, why that I be coverture     Have feigned semblant ofte time     To hem that passen alday byme     And ben lovers als wel as I,     For this I weene trewely,     That ther is of hem alle non,     That thei ne loven everich on                2020     Mi ladi: for sothliche I lieve     And durste setten it in prieve,     Is non so wys that scholde asterte,     Bot he were lustles in his herte,     Forwhy and he my ladi sihe,     Hir visage and hir goodlych yhe,     Bot he hire lovede, er he wente.     And for that such is myn entente,     That is the cause of myn aspie,     Why that I feigne compaignie         2030     And make felawe overal;     For gladly wolde I knowen al     And holde me covert alway,     That I fulofte ye or nay     Ne liste ansuere in eny wise,     Bot feigne semblant as the wise     And herkne tales, til I knowe     Mi ladi lovers al arowe.     And whanne I hiere how thei have wroght,     I fare as thogh I herde it noght        2040     And as I no word understode;     Bot that is nothing for here goode:     For lieveth wel, the sothe is this,     That whanne I knowe al how it is,     I wol bot forthren hem a lite,     Bot al the worste I can endite     I telle it to my ladi plat     In forthringe of myn oghne astat,     And hindre hem al that evere I may.     Bot for al that yit dar I say,     2050     I finde unto miself no bote,     Althogh myn herte nedes mote     Thurgh strengthe of love al that I hiere     Discovere unto my ladi diere:     For in good feith I have no miht     To hele fro that swete wiht,     If that it touche hire eny thing.     Bot this wot wel the hevene king,     That sithen ferst this world began,     Unto non other strange man        2060     Ne feigned I semblant ne chiere,     To wite or axe of his matiere,     Thogh that he lovede ten or tuelve,     Whanne it was noght my ladi selve:     Bot if he wolde axe eny red     Al onlich of his oghne hed,     How he with other love ferde,     His tales with myn Ere I herde,     Bot to myn herte cam it noght     Ne sank no deppere in my thoght,        2070     Bot hield conseil, as I was bede,     And tolde it nevere in other stede,     Bot let it passen as it com.     Now, fader, say what is thi dom,     And hou thou wolt that I be peined     For such Semblant as I have feigned.     Mi Sone, if reson be wel peised,     Ther mai no vertu ben unpreised     Ne vice non be set in pris.     Forthi, my Sone, if thou be wys,        2080     Do no viser upon thi face,     Which as wol noght thin herte embrace:     For if thou do, withinne a throwe     To othre men it schal be knowe,     So miht thou lihtli falle in blame     And lese a gret part of thi name.     And natheles in this degree     Fulofte time thou myht se     Of suche men that now aday     This vice setten in a say:        2090     I speke it for no mannes blame,     Bot forto warne thee the same.     Mi Sone, as I mai hiere talke     In every place where I walke,     I not if it be so or non,     Bot it is manye daies gon     That I ferst herde telle this,     How Falssemblant hath ben and is     Most comunly fro yer to yere     With hem that duelle among ous here,     2100     Of suche as we Lombardes calle.     For thei ben the slyeste of alle,     So as men sein in toune aboute,     To feigne and schewe thing withoute     Which is revers to that withinne:     Wherof that thei fulofte winne,     Whan thei be reson scholden lese;     Thei ben the laste and yit thei chese,     And we the ferste, and yit behinde     We gon, there as we scholden finde         2110     The profit of oure oghne lond:     Thus gon thei fre withoute bond     To don her profit al at large,     And othre men bere al the charge.     Of Lombardz unto this covine,     Whiche alle londes conne engine,     Mai Falssemblant in special     Be likned, for thei overal,     Wher as they thenken forto duelle,     Among hemself, so as thei telle,        2120     Ferst ben enformed forto lere     A craft which cleped is Fa crere:     For if Fa crere come aboute,     Thanne afterward hem stant no doute     To voide with a soubtil hond     The beste goodes of the lond     And bringe chaf and take corn.     Where as Fa crere goth toforn,     In all his weie he fynt no lette;     That Dore can non huissher schette         2130     In which him list to take entre:     And thus the conseil most secre     Of every thing Fa crere knoweth,     Which into strange place he bloweth,     Where as he wot it mai most grieve.     And thus Fa crere makth believe,     So that fulofte he hath deceived,     Er that he mai ben aperceived.     Thus is this vice forto drede;     For who these olde bokes rede        2140     Of suche ensamples as were ar,     Him oghte be the more war     Of alle tho that feigne chiere,     Wherof thou schalt a tale hiere.     Of Falssemblant which is believed     Ful many a worthi wiht is grieved,     And was long time er we wer bore.     To thee, my Sone, I wol therfore     A tale telle of Falssemblant,     Which falseth many a covenant,     2150     And many a fraude of fals conseil     Ther ben hangende upon his Seil:     And that aboghten gulteles     Bothe Deianire and Hercules,     The whiche in gret desese felle     Thurgh Falssemblant, as I schal telle.     Whan Hercules withinne a throwe     Al only hath his herte throwe     Upon this faire Deianire,     It fell him on a dai desire,         2160     Upon a Rivere as he stod,     That passe he wolde over the flod     Withoute bot, and with him lede     His love, bot he was in drede     For tendresce of that swete wiht,     For he knew noght the forde ariht.     Ther was a Geant thanne nyh,     Which Nessus hihte, and whanne he sih     This Hercules and Deianyre,     Withinne his herte he gan conspire,        2170     As he which thurgh his tricherie     Hath Hercules in gret envie,     Which he bar in his herte loke,     And thanne he thoghte it schal be wroke.     Bot he ne dorste natheles     Ayein this worthi Hercules     Falle in debat as forto feihte;     Bot feigneth Semblant al be sleihte     Of frendschipe and of alle goode,     And comth where as thei bothe stode,     2180     And makth hem al the chiere he can,     And seith that as here oghne man     He is al redy forto do     What thing he mai; and it fell so     That thei upon his Semblant triste,     And axen him if that he wiste     What thing hem were best to done,     So that thei mihten sauf and sone     The water passe, he and sche.     And whan Nessus the privete     2190     Knew of here herte what it mente,     As he that was of double entente,     He made hem riht a glad visage;     And whanne he herde of the passage     Of him and hire, he thoghte guile,     And feigneth Semblant for a while     To don hem plesance and servise,     Bot he thoghte al an other wise.     This Nessus with hise wordes slyhe     Yaf such conseil tofore here yhe        2200     Which semeth outward profitable     And was withinne deceivable.     He bad hem of the Stremes depe     That thei be war and take kepe,     So as thei knowe noght the pas;     Bot forto helpe in such a cas,     He seith himself that for here ese     He wolde, if that it mihte hem plese,     The passage of the water take,     And for this ladi undertake             2210     To bere unto that other stronde     And sauf to sette hire up alonde,     And Hercules may thanne also     The weie knowe how he schal go:     And herto thei acorden alle.     Bot what as after schal befalle,     Wel payd was Hercules of this,     And this Geant also glad is,     And tok this ladi up alofte     And set hire on his schuldre softe,        2220     And in the flod began to wade,     As he which no grucchinge made,     And bar hire over sauf and sound.     Bot whanne he stod on dreie ground     And Hercules was fer behinde,     He sette his trowthe al out of mynde,     Who so therof be lief or loth,     With Deianyre and forth he goth,     As he that thoghte to dissevere     The compaignie of hem for evere.        2230     Whan Hercules therof tok hiede,     Als faste as evere he mihte him spiede     He hyeth after in a throwe;     And hapneth that he hadde a bowe,     The which in alle haste he bende,     As he that wolde an Arwe sende,     Which he tofore hadde envenimed.     He hath so wel his schote timed,     That he him thurgh the bodi smette,     And thus the false wiht he lette.     2240     Bot lest now such a felonie:     Whan Nessus wiste he scholde die,     He tok to Deianyre his scherte,     Which with the blod was of his herte     Thurghout desteigned overal,     And tolde how sche it kepe schal     Al prively to this entente,     That if hire lord his herte wente     To love in eny other place,     The scherte, he seith, hath such a grace,        2250     That if sche mai so mochel make     That he the scherte upon him take,     He schal alle othre lete in vein     And torne unto hire love ayein.     Who was tho glad bot Deianyre?     Hire thoghte hire herte was afyre     Til it was in hire cofre loke,     So that no word therof was spoke.     The daies gon, the yeres passe,     The hertes waxen lasse and lasse        2260     Of hem that ben to love untrewe:     This Hercules with herte newe     His love hath set on Eolen,     And therof spieken alle men.     This Eolen, this faire maide,     Was, as men thilke time saide,     The kinges dowhter of Eurice;     And sche made Hercules so nyce     Upon hir Love and so assote,     That he him clotheth in hire cote,         2270     And sche in his was clothed ofte;     And thus fieblesce is set alofte,     And strengthe was put under fote,     Ther can noman therof do bote.     Whan Deianyre hath herd this speche,     Ther was no sorwe forto seche:     Of other helpe wot sche non,     Bot goth unto hire cofre anon;     With wepende yhe and woful herte     Sche tok out thilke unhappi scherte,     2280     As sche that wende wel to do,     And broghte hire werk aboute so     That Hercules this scherte on dede,     To such entente as she was bede     Of Nessus, so as I seide er.     Bot therof was sche noght the ner,     As no fortune may be weyved;     With Falssemblant sche was deceived,     That whan sche wende best have wonne,     Sche lost al that sche hath begonne.     2290     For thilke scherte unto the bon     His body sette afyre anon,     And cleveth so, it mai noght twinne,     For the venym that was therinne.     And he thanne as a wilde man     Unto the hihe wode he ran,     And as the Clerk Ovide telleth,     The grete tres to grounde he felleth     With strengthe al of his oghne myght,     And made an huge fyr upriht,         2300     And lepte himself therinne at ones     And brende him bothe fleissh and bones.     Which thing cam al thurgh Falssemblant,     That false Nessus the Geant     Made unto him and to his wif;     Wherof that he hath lost his lif,     And sche sori for everemo.     Forthi, my Sone, er thee be wo,     I rede, be wel war therfore;     For whan so gret a man was lore,        2310     It oghte yive a gret conceipte     To warne alle othre of such deceipte.     Grant mercy, fader, I am war     So fer that I nomore dar     Of Falssemblant take aqueintance;     Bot rathere I wol do penance     That I have feigned chiere er this.     Now axeth forth, what so ther is     Of that belongeth to my schrifte.     Mi Sone, yit ther is the fifte     2320     Which is conceived of Envie,     And cleped is Supplantarie,     Thurgh whos compassement and guile     Ful many a man hath lost his while     In love als wel as otherwise,     Hierafter as I schal devise.     The vice of Supplantacioun     With many a fals collacioun,     Which he conspireth al unknowe,     Full ofte time hath overthrowe     2330     The worschipe of an other man.     So wel no lif awayte can     Ayein his sleyhte forto caste,     That he his pourpos ate laste     Ne hath, er that it be withset.     Bot most of alle his herte is set     In court upon these grete Offices     Of dignitees and benefices:     Thus goth he with his sleyhte aboute     To hindre and schowve an other oute        2340     And stonden with his slyh compas     In stede there an other was;     And so to sette himselven inne,     He reccheth noght, be so he winne,     Of that an other man schal lese,     And thus fulofte chalk for chese     He changeth with ful litel cost,     Wherof an other hath the lost     And he the profit schal receive.     For his fortune is to deceive        2350     And forto change upon the whel     His wo with othre mennes wel:     Of that an other man avaleth,     His oghne astat thus up he haleth,     And takth the bridd to his beyete,     Wher othre men the buisshes bete.     Mi Sone, and in the same wise     Ther ben lovers of such emprise,     That schapen hem to be relieved     Where it is wrong to ben achieved:         2360     For it is other mannes riht,     Which he hath taken dai and niht     To kepe for his oghne Stor     Toward himself for everemor,     And is his propre be the lawe,     Which thing that axeth no felawe,     If love holde his covenant.     Bot thei that worchen be supplaunt,     Yit wolden thei a man supplaunte,     And take a part of thilke plaunte     2370     Which he hath for himselve set:     And so fulofte is al unknet,     That som man weneth be riht fast.     For Supplant with his slyhe cast     Fulofte happneth forto mowe     Thing which an other man hath sowe,     And makth comun of proprete     With sleihte and with soubtilite,     As men mai se fro yer to yere.     Thus cleymeth he the bot to stiere,        2380     Of which an other maister is.     Forthi, my Sone, if thou er this     Hast ben of such professioun,     Discovere thi confessioun:     Hast thou supplanted eny man?     For oght that I you telle can,     Min holi fader, as of the dede     I am withouten eny drede     Al gulteles; bot of my thoght     Mi conscience excuse I noght.        2390     For were it wrong or were it riht,     Me lakketh nothing bote myht,     That I ne wolde longe er this     Of other mannes love ywiss     Be weie of Supplantacioun     Have mad apropriacioun     And holde that I nevere boghte,     Thogh it an other man forthoghte.     And al this speke I bot of on,     For whom I lete alle othre gon;         2400     Bot hire I mai noght overpasse,     That I ne mot alwey compasse,     Me roghte noght be what queintise,     So that I mihte in eny wise     Fro suche that mi ladi serve     Hire herte make forto swerve     Withouten eny part of love.     For be the goddes alle above     I wolde it mihte so befalle,     That I al one scholde hem alle     2410     Supplante, and welde hire at mi wille.     And that thing mai I noght fulfille,     Bot if I scholde strengthe make;     And that I dar noght undertake,     Thogh I were as was Alisaundre,     For therof mihte arise sklaundre;     And certes that schal I do nevere,     For in good feith yit hadde I levere     In my simplesce forto die,     Than worche such Supplantarie.     2420     Of otherwise I wol noght seie     That if I founde a seker weie,     I wolde as for conclusioun     Worche after Supplantacioun,     So hihe a love forto winne.     Now, fader, if that this be Sinne,     I am al redy to redresce     The gilt of which I me confesse.     Mi goode Sone, as of Supplant     Thee thar noght drede tant ne quant,     2430     As for nothing that I have herd,     Bot only that thou hast misferd     Thenkende, and that me liketh noght,     For godd beholt a mannes thoght.     And if thou understode in soth     In loves cause what it doth,     A man to ben a Supplantour,     Thou woldest for thin oghne honour     Be double weie take kepe:     Ferst for thin oghne astat to kepe,        2440     To be thiself so wel bethoght     That thou supplanted were noght,     And ek for worschipe of thi name     Towardes othre do the same,     And soffren every man have his.     Bot natheles it was and is,     That in a wayt at alle assaies     Supplant of love in oure daies     The lief fulofte for the levere     Forsakth, and so it hath don evere.        2450     Ensample I finde therupon,     At Troie how that Agamenon     Supplantede the worthi knyht     Achilles of that swete wiht,     Which named was Brexei5da;     And also of Crisei5da,     Whom Troilus to love ches,     Supplanted hath Diomedes.     Of Geta and Amphitrion,     That whilom weren bothe as on        2460     Of frendschipe and of compaignie,     I rede how that Supplantarie     In love, as it betidde tho,     Beguiled hath on of hem tuo.     For this Geta that I of meene,     To whom the lusti faire Almeene     Assured was be weie of love,     Whan he best wende have ben above     And sikerest of that he hadde,     Cupido so the cause ladde,        2470     That whil he was out of the weie,     Amphitrion hire love aweie     Hath take, and in this forme he wroghte.     Be nyhte unto the chambre he soghte,     Wher that sche lay, and with a wyle     He contrefeteth for the whyle     The vois of Gete in such a wise,     That made hire of hire bedd arise,     Wenende that it were he,     And let him in, and whan thei be        2480     Togedre abedde in armes faste,     This Geta cam thanne ate laste     Unto the Dore and seide, "Undo."     And sche ansuerde and bad him go,     And seide how that abedde al warm     Hir lief lay naked in hir arm;     Sche wende that it were soth.     Lo, what Supplant of love doth:     This Geta forth bejaped wente,     And yit ne wiste he what it mente;         2490     Amphitrion him hath supplanted     With sleyhte of love and hire enchaunted:     And thus put every man out other,     The Schip of love hath lost his Rother,     So that he can no reson stiere.     And forto speke of this matiere     Touchende love and his Supplant,     A tale which is acordant     Unto thin Ere I thenke enforme.     Now herkne, for this is the forme.         2500     Of thilke Cite chief of alle     Which men the noble Rome calle,     Er it was set to Cristes feith,     Ther was, as the Cronique seith,     An Emperour, the which it ladde     In pes, that he no werres hadde:     Ther was nothing desobeissant     Which was to Rome appourtenant,     Bot al was torned into reste.     To some it thoghte for the beste,     2510     To some it thoghte nothing so,     And that was only unto tho     Whos herte stod upon knyhthode:     Bot most of alle of his manhode     The worthi Sone of themperour,     Which wolde ben a werreiour,     As he that was chivalerous     Of worldes fame and desirous,     Began his fadre to beseche     That he the werres mihte seche,         2520     In strange Marches forto ride.     His fader seide he scholde abide,     And wolde granten him no leve:     Bot he, which wolde noght beleve,     A kniht of his to whom he triste,     So that his fader nothing wiste,     He tok and tolde him his corage,     That he pourposeth a viage.     If that fortune with him stonde,     He seide how that he wolde fonde        2530     The grete See to passe unknowe,     And there abyde for a throwe     Upon the werres to travaile.     And to this point withoute faile     This kniht, whan he hath herd his lord,     Is swore, and stant of his acord,     As thei that bothe yonge were;     So that in prive conseil there     Thei ben assented forto wende.     And therupon to make an ende,        2540     Tresor ynowh with hem thei token,     And whan the time is best thei loken,     That sodeinliche in a Galeie     Fro Romelond thei wente here weie     And londe upon that other side.     The world fell so that ilke tide,     Which evere hise happes hath diverse,     The grete Soldan thanne of Perse     Ayein the Caliphe of Egipte     A werre, which that him beclipte,     2550     Hath in a Marche costeiant.     And he, which was a poursuiant     Worschipe of armes to atteigne,     This Romein, let anon ordeigne,     That he was redi everydel:     And whan he was arraied wel     Of every thing which him belongeth,     Straght unto Kaire his weie he fongeth,     Wher he the Soldan thanne fond,     And axeth that withinne his lond        2560     He mihte him for the werre serve,     As he which wolde his thonk deserve.     The Soldan was riht glad with al,     And wel the more in special     Whan that he wiste he was Romein;     Bot what was elles in certein,     That mihte he wite be no weie.     And thus the kniht of whom I seie     Toward the Soldan is beleft,     And in the Marches now and eft,         2570     Wher that the dedli werres were,     He wroghte such knihthode there,     That every man spak of him good.     And thilke time so it stod,     This mihti Soldan be his wif     A Dowhter hath, that in this lif     Men seiden ther was non so fair.     Sche scholde ben hir fader hair,     And was of yeres ripe ynowh:     Hire beaute many an herte drowh         2580     To bowe unto that ilke lawe     Fro which no lif mai be withdrawe,     And that is love, whos nature     Set lif and deth in aventure     Of hem that knyhthode undertake.     This lusti peine hath overtake     The herte of this Romein so sore,     That to knihthode more and more     Prouesce avanceth his corage.     Lich to the Leoun in his rage,     2590     Fro whom that alle bestes fle,     Such was the knyht in his degre:     Wher he was armed in the feld,     Ther dorste non abide his scheld;     Gret pris upon the werre he hadde.     Bot sche which al the chance ladde,     Fortune, schop the Marches so,     That be thassent of bothe tuo,     The Soldan and the Caliphe eke,     Bataille upon a dai thei seke,     2600     Which was in such a wise set     That lengere scholde it noght be let.     Thei made hem stronge on every side,     And whan it drowh toward the tide     That the bataille scholde be,     The Soldan in gret privete     A goldring of his dowhter tok,     And made hire swere upon a bok     And ek upon the goddes alle,     That if fortune so befalle        2610     In the bataille that he deie,     That sche schal thilke man obeie     And take him to hire housebonde,     Which thilke same Ring to honde     Hire scholde bringe after his deth.     This hath sche swore, and forth he geth     With al the pouer of his lond     Unto the Marche, where he fond     His enemy full embatailled.     The Soldan hath the feld assailed:         2620     Thei that ben hardy sone assemblen,     Wherof the dredfull hertes tremblen:     That on sleth, and that other sterveth,     Bot above all his pris deserveth     This knihtly Romein; where he rod,     His dedly swerd noman abod,     Ayein the which was no defence;     Egipte fledde in his presence,     And thei of Perse upon the chace     Poursuien: bot I not what grace         2630     Befell, an Arwe out of a bowe     Al sodeinly that ilke throwe     The Soldan smot, and ther he lay:     The chace is left for thilke day,     And he was bore into a tente.     The Soldan sih how that it wente,     And that he scholde algate die;     And to this knyht of Romanie,     As unto him whom he most triste,     His Dowhter Ring, that non it wiste,     2640     He tok, and tolde him al the cas,     Upon hire oth what tokne it was     Of that sche scholde ben his wif.     Whan this was seid, the hertes lif     Of this Soldan departeth sone;     And therupon, as was to done,     The dede body wel and faire     Thei carie til thei come at Kaire,     Wher he was worthily begrave.     The lordes, whiche as wolden save             2650     The Regne which was desolat,     To bringe it into good astat     A parlement thei sette anon.     Now herkne what fell therupon:     This yonge lord, this worthi kniht     Of Rome, upon the same niht     That thei amorwe trete scholde,     Unto his Bacheler he tolde     His conseil, and the Ring with al     He scheweth, thurgh which that he schal,         2660     He seith, the kinges Dowhter wedde,     For so the Ring was leid to wedde,     He tolde, into hir fader hond,     That with what man that sche it fond     Sche scholde him take to hire lord.     And this, he seith, stant of record,     Bot noman wot who hath this Ring.     This Bacheler upon this thing     His Ere and his entente leide,     And thoghte more thanne he seide,     2670     And feigneth with a fals visage     That he was glad, bot his corage     Was al set in an other wise.     These olde Philosophres wise     Thei writen upon thilke while,     That he mai best a man beguile     In whom the man hath most credence;     And this befell in evidence     Toward this yonge lord of Rome.     His Bacheler, which hadde tome,         2680     Whan that his lord be nihte slepte,     This Ring, the which his maister kepte,     Out of his Pours awey he dede,     And putte an other in the stede.     Amorwe, whan the Court is set,     The yonge ladi was forth fet,     To whom the lordes don homage,     And after that of Mariage     Thei trete and axen of hir wille.     Bot sche, which thoghte to fulfille        2690     Hire fader heste in this matiere,     Seide openly, that men mai hiere,     The charge which hire fader bad.     Tho was this Lord of Rome glad     And drowh toward his Pours anon,     Bot al for noght, it was agon:     His Bacheler it hath forthdrawe,     And axeth ther upon the lawe     That sche him holde covenant.     The tokne was so sufficant        2700     That it ne mihte be forsake,     And natheles his lord hath take     Querelle ayein his oghne man;     Bot for nothing that evere he can     He mihte as thanne noght ben herd,     So that his cleym is unansuerd,     And he hath of his pourpos failed.     This Bacheler was tho consailed     And wedded, and of thilke Empire     He was coroned Lord and Sire,        2710     And al the lond him hath received;     Wherof his lord, which was deceived,     A seknesse er the thridde morwe     Conceived hath of dedly sorwe:     And as he lay upon his deth,     Therwhile him lasteth speche and breth,     He sende for the worthieste     Of al the lond and ek the beste,     And tolde hem al the sothe tho,     That he was Sone and Heir also     2720     Of themperour of grete Rome,     And how that thei togedre come,     This kniht and he; riht as it was,     He tolde hem al the pleine cas,     And for that he his conseil tolde,     That other hath al that he wolde,     And he hath failed of his mede:     As for the good he takth non hiede,     He seith, bot only of the love,     Of which he wende have ben above.     2730     And therupon be lettre write     He doth his fader forto wite     Of al this matiere as it stod;     And thanne with an hertly mod     Unto the lordes he besoghte     To telle his ladi how he boghte     Hire love, of which an other gladeth;     And with that word his hewe fadeth,     And seide, "A dieu, my ladi swete."     The lif hath lost his kindly hete,         2740     And he lay ded as eny ston;     Wherof was sory manyon,     Bot non of alle so as sche.     This false knyht in his degree     Arested was and put in hold:     For openly whan it was told     Of the tresoun which is befalle,     Thurghout the lond thei seiden alle,     If it be soth that men suppose,     His oghne untrowthe him schal depose.         2750     And forto seche an evidence,     With honour and gret reverence,     Wherof they mihten knowe an ende,     To themperour anon thei sende     The lettre which his Sone wrot.     And whan that he the sothe wot,     To telle his sorwe is endeles,     Bot yit in haste natheles     Upon the tale which he herde     His Stieward into Perse ferde        2760     With many a worthi Romein eke,     His liege tretour forto seke;     And whan thei thider come were,     This kniht him hath confessed there     How falsly that he hath him bore,     Wherof his worthi lord was lore.     Tho seiden some he scholde deie,     Bot yit thei founden such a weie     That he schal noght be ded in Perse;     And thus the skiles ben diverse.        2770     Be cause that he was coroned,     And that the lond was abandoned     To him, althogh it were unriht,     Ther is no peine for him diht;     Bot to this point and to this ende     Thei granten wel that he schal wende     With the Romeins to Rome ayein.     And thus acorded ful and plein,     The qwike body with the dede     With leve take forth thei lede,         2780     Wher that Supplant hath his juise.     Wherof that thou thee miht avise     Upon this enformacioun     Touchende of Supplantacioun,     That thou, my Sone, do noght so:     And forto take hiede also     What Supplant doth in other halve,     Ther is noman can finde a salve     Pleinly to helen such a Sor;     It hath and schal ben everemor,         2790     Whan Pride is with Envie joint,     He soffreth noman in good point,     Wher that he mai his honour lette.     And therupon if I schal sette     Ensample, in holy cherche I finde     How that Supplant is noght behinde;     God wot if that it now be so:     For in Cronique of time ago     I finde a tale concordable     Of Supplant, which that is no fable,     2800     In the manere as I schal telle,     So as whilom the thinges felle.     At Rome, as it hath ofte falle,     The vicair general of alle     Of hem that lieven Cristes feith     His laste day, which non withseith,     Hath schet as to the worldes ije,     Whos name if I schal specefie,     He hihte Pope Nicolas.     And thus whan that he passed was,     2810     The Cardinals, that wolden save     The forme of lawe, in the conclave     Gon forto chese a newe Pope,     And after that thei cowthe agrope     Hath ech of hem seid his entente:     Til ate laste thei assente     Upon an holy clerk reclus,     Which full was of gostli vertus;     His pacience and his simplesse     Hath set him into hih noblesse.         2820     Thus was he Pope canonized,     With gret honour and intronized,     And upon chance as it is falle,     His name Celestin men calle;     Which notefied was be bulle     To holi cherche and to the fulle     In alle londes magnified.     Bot every worschipe is envied,     And that was thilke time sene:     For whan this Pope of whom I meene         2830     Was chose, and othre set beside,     A Cardinal was thilke tide     Which the papat longe hath desired     And therupon gretli conspired;     Bot whan he sih fortune is failed,     For which long time he hath travailed,     That ilke fyr which Ethna brenneth     Thurghout his wofull herte renneth,     Which is resembled to Envie,     Wherof Supplant and tricherie        2840     Engendred is; and natheles     He feigneth love, he feigneth pes,     Outward he doth the reverence,     Bot al withinne his conscience     Thurgh fals ymaginacioun     He thoghte Supplantacioun.     And therupon a wonder wyle     He wroghte: for at thilke whyle     It fell so that of his lignage     He hadde a clergoun of yong age,        2850     Whom he hath in his chambre affaited.     This Cardinal his time hath waited,     And with his wordes slyhe and queinte,     The whiche he cowthe wysly peinte,     He schop this clerk of which I telle     Toward the Pope forto duelle,     So that withinne his chambre anyht     He lai, and was a prive wyht     Toward the Pope on nyhtes tide.     Mai noman fle that schal betide.        2860     This Cardinal, which thoghte guile,     Upon a day whan he hath while     This yonge clerc unto him tok,     And made him swere upon a bok,     And told him what his wille was.     And forth withal a Trompe of bras     He hath him take, and bad him this:     "Thou schalt," he seide, "whan time is     Awaite, and take riht good kepe,     Whan that the Pope is fast aslepe     2870     And that non other man by nyh;     And thanne that thou be so slyh     Thurghout the Trompe into his Ere,     Fro hevene as thogh a vois it were,     To soune of such prolacioun     That he his meditacioun     Therof mai take and understonde,     As thogh it were of goddes sonde.     And in this wise thou schalt seie,     That he do thilke astat aweie        2880     Of Pope, in which he stant honoured,     So schal his Soule be socoured     Of thilke worschipe ate laste     In hevene which schal evere laste."     This clerc, whan he hath herd the forme     How he the Pope scholde enforme,     Tok of the Cardinal his leve,     And goth him hom, til it was Eve,     And prively the trompe he hedde,     Til that the Pope was abedde.        2890     And at the Midnyht, whan he knewh     The Pope slepte, thanne he blewh     Withinne his trompe thurgh the wal,     And tolde in what manere he schal     His Papacie leve, and take     His ferste astat: and thus awake     This holi Pope he made thries,     Wherof diverse fantasies     Upon his grete holinesse     Withinne his herte he gan impresse.        2900     The Pope ful of innocence     Conceiveth in his conscience     That it is goddes wille he cesse;     Bot in what wise he may relesse     His hihe astat, that wot he noght.     And thus withinne himself bethoght,     He bar it stille in his memoire,     Til he cam to the Consistoire;     And there in presence of hem alle     He axeth, if it so befalle        2910     That eny Pope cesse wolde,     How that the lawe it soffre scholde.     Thei seten alle stille and herde,     Was non which to the point ansuerde,     For to what pourpos that it mente     Ther was noman knew his entente,     Bot only he which schop the guile.     This Cardinal the same while     Al openly with wordes pleine     Seith, if the Pope wolde ordeigne     2920     That ther be such a lawe wroght,     Than mihte he cesse, and elles noght.     And as he seide, don it was;     The Pope anon upon the cas     Of his Papal Autorite     Hath mad and yove the decre:     And whan that lawe was confermed     In due forme and al affermed,     This innocent, which was deceived,     His Papacie anon hath weyved,        2930     Renounced and resigned eke.     That other was nothing to seke,     Bot undernethe such a jape     He hath so for himselve schape,     That how as evere it him beseme,     The Mitre with the Diademe     He hath thurgh Supplantacion:     And in his confirmacion     Upon the fortune of his grace     His name is cleped Boneface.         2940     Under the viser of Envie,     Lo, thus was hid the tricherie,     Which hath beguiled manyon.     Bot such conseil ther mai be non,     With treson whan it is conspired,     That it nys lich the Sparke fyred     Up in the Rof, which for a throwe     Lith hidd, til whan the wyndes blowe     It blaseth out on every side.     This Bonefas, which can noght hyde         2950     The tricherie of his Supplant,     Hath openly mad his avant     How he the Papacie hath wonne.     Bot thing which is with wrong begonne     Mai nevere stonde wel at ende;     Wher Pride schal the bowe bende,     He schet fulofte out of the weie:     And thus the Pope of whom I seie,     Whan that he stod on hih the whiel,     He can noght soffre himself be wel.        2960     Envie, which is loveles,     And Pride, which is laweles,     With such tempeste made him erre,     That charite goth out of herre:     So that upon misgovernance     Ayein Lowyz the king of France     He tok querelle of his oultrage,     And seide he scholde don hommage     Unto the cherche bodily.     Bot he, that wiste nothing why     2970     He scholde do so gret servise     After the world in such a wise,     Withstod the wrong of that demande;     For noght the Pope mai comande     The king wol noght the Pope obeie.     This Pope tho be alle weie     That he mai worche of violence     Hath sent the bulle of his sentence     With cursinge and with enterdit.     The king upon this wrongful plyt,     2980     To kepe his regne fro servage,     Conseiled was of his Barnage     That miht with miht schal be withstonde.     Thus was the cause take on honde,     And seiden that the Papacie     Thei wolde honoure and magnefie     In al that evere is spirital;     Bot thilke Pride temporal     Of Boneface in his persone,     Ayein that ilke wrong al one         2990     Thei wolde stonden in debat:     And thus the man and noght the stat     The Frensche schopen be her miht     To grieve. And fell ther was a kniht,     Sire Guilliam de Langharet,     Which was upon this cause set;     And therupon he tok a route     Of men of Armes and rod oute,     So longe and in a wayt he lay,     That he aspide upon a day         3000     The Pope was at Avinoun,     And scholde ryde out of the toun     Unto Pontsorge, the which is     A Castell in Provence of his.     Upon the weie and as he rod,     This kniht, which hoved and abod     Embuisshed upon horse bak,     Al sodeinliche upon him brak     And hath him be the bridel sesed,     And seide: "O thou, which hast desesed        3010     The Court of France be thi wrong,     Now schalt thou singe an other song:     Thin enterdit and thi sentence     Ayein thin oghne conscience     Hierafter thou schalt fiele and grope.     We pleigne noght ayein the Pope,     For thilke name is honourable,     Bot thou, which hast be deceivable     And tricherous in al thi werk,     Thou Bonefas, thou proude clerk,        3020     Misledere of the Papacie,     Thi false bodi schal abye     And soffre that it hath deserved."     Lo, thus the Supplantour was served;     For thei him ladden into France     And setten him to his penance     Withinne a tour in harde bondes,     Wher he for hunger bothe hise hondes     Eet of and deide, god wot how:     Of whom the wrytinge is yit now         3030     Registred, as a man mai hiere,     Which spekth and seith in this manere:     Thin entre lich the fox was slyh,     Thi regne also with pride on hih     Was lich the Leon in his rage;     Bot ate laste of thi passage     Thi deth was to the houndes like.     Such is the lettre of his Cronique     Proclamed in the Court of Rome,     Wherof the wise ensample nome.     3040     And yit, als ferforth as I dar,     I rede alle othre men be war,     And that thei loke wel algate     That non his oghne astat translate     Of holi cherche in no degree     Be fraude ne soubtilite:     For thilke honour which Aaron tok     Schal non receive, as seith the bok,     Bot he be cleped as he was.     What I schal thenken in this cas        3050     Of that I hiere now aday,     I not: bot he which can and may,     Be reson bothe and be nature     The help of every mannes cure,     He kepe Simon fro the folde.     For Joachim thilke Abbot tolde     How suche daies scholden falle,     That comunliche in places alle     The Chapmen of such mercerie     With fraude and with Supplantarie     3060     So manye scholden beie and selle,     That he ne may for schame telle     So foul a Senne in mannes Ere.     Bot god forbiede that it were     In oure daies that he seith:     For if the Clerc beware his feith     In chapmanhod at such a feire,     The remenant mot nede empeire     Of al that to the world belongeth;     For whan that holi cherche wrongeth,     3070     I not what other thing schal rihte.     And natheles at mannes sihte     Envie forto be preferred     Hath conscience so differred,     That noman loketh to the vice     Which is the Moder of malice,     And that is thilke false Envie,     Which causeth many a tricherie;     For wher he may an other se     That is mor gracious than he,        3080     It schal noght stonden in his miht     Bot if he hindre such a wiht:     And that is welnyh overal,     This vice is now so general.     Envie thilke unhapp indrowh,     Whan Joab be deceipte slowh     Abner, for drede he scholde be     With king David such as was he.     And thurgh Envie also it fell     Of thilke false Achitofell,     3090     For his conseil was noght achieved,     Bot that he sih Cusy believed     With Absolon and him forsake,     He heng himself upon a stake.     Senec witnesseth openly     How that Envie proprely     Is of the Court the comun wenche,     And halt taverne forto schenche     That drink which makth the herte brenne,     And doth the wit aboute renne,     3100     Be every weie to compasse     How that he mihte alle othre passe,     As he which thurgh unkindeschipe     Envieth every felaschipe;     So that thou miht wel knowe and se,     Ther is no vice such as he,     Ferst toward godd abhominable,     And to mankinde unprofitable:     And that be wordes bot a fewe     I schal be reson prove and schewe.         3110     Envie if that I schal descrive,     He is noght schaply forto wyve     In Erthe among the wommen hiere;     For ther is in him no matiere     Wherof he mihte do plesance.     Ferst for his hevy continance     Of that he semeth evere unglad,     He is noght able to ben had;     And ek he brenneth so withinne,     That kinde mai no profit winne,         3120     Wherof he scholde his love plese:     For thilke blod which scholde have ese     To regne among the moiste veines,     Is drye of thilke unkendeli peines     Thurgh whiche Envie is fyred ay.     And thus be reson prove I may     That toward love Envie is noght;     And otherwise if it be soght,     Upon what side as evere it falle,     It is the werste vice of alle,     3130     Which of himself hath most malice.     For understond that every vice     Som cause hath, wherof it groweth,     Bot of Envie noman knoweth     Fro whenne he cam bot out of helle.     For thus the wise clerkes telle,     That no spirit bot of malice     Be weie of kinde upon a vice     Is tempted, and be such a weie     Envie hath kinde put aweie        3140     And of malice hath his steringe,     Wherof he makth his bakbitinge,     And is himself therof desesed.     So mai ther be no kinde plesed;     For ay the mor that he envieth,     The more ayein himself he plieth.     Thus stant Envie in good espeir     To ben himself the develes heir,     As he which is his nexte liche     And forthest fro the heveneriche,     3150     For there mai he nevere wone.     Forthi, my goode diere Sone,     If thou wolt finde a siker weie     To love, put Envie aweie.     Min holy fader, reson wolde     That I this vice eschuie scholde:     Bot yit to strengthe mi corage,     If that ye wolde in avantage     Therof sette a recoverir,     It were tome a gret desir,        3160     That I this vice mihte flee.     Nou understond, my Sone, and se,     Ther is phisique for the seke,     And vertus for the vices eke.     Who that the vices wolde eschuie,     He mot be resoun thanne suie     The vertus; for be thilke weie     He mai the vices don aweie,     For thei togedre mai noght duelle:     For as the water of a welle     3170     Of fyr abateth the malice,     Riht so vertu fordoth the vice.     Ayein Envie is Charite,     Which is the Moder of Pite,     That makth a mannes herte tendre,     That it mai no malice engendre     In him that is enclin therto.     For his corage is tempred so,     That thogh he mihte himself relieve,     Yit wolde he noght an other grieve,        3180     Bot rather forto do plesance     He berth himselven the grevance,     So fain he wolde an other ese.     Wherof, mi Sone, for thin ese     Now herkne a tale which I rede,     And understond it wel, I rede.     Among the bokes of latin     I finde write of Constantin     The worthi Emperour of Rome,     Suche infortunes to him come,        3190     Whan he was in his lusti age,     The lepre cawhte in his visage     And so forth overal aboute,     That he ne mihte ryden oute:     So lefte he bothe Schield and spere,     As he that mihte him noght bestere,     And hield him in his chambre clos.     Thurgh al the world the fame aros,     The grete clerkes ben asent     And come at his comandement     3200     To trete upon this lordes hele.     So longe thei togedre dele,     That thei upon this medicine     Apointen hem, and determine     That in the maner as it stod     Thei wolde him bathe in childes blod     Withinne sevene wynter age:     For, as thei sein, that scholde assuage     The lepre and al the violence,     Which that thei knewe of Accidence         3210     And noght be weie of kinde is falle.     And therto thei acorden alle     As for final conclusioun,     And tolden here opinioun     To themperour: and he anon     His conseil tok, and therupon     With lettres and with seales oute     Thei sende in every lond aboute     The yonge children forto seche,     Whos blod, thei seiden, schal be leche        3220     For themperoures maladie.     Ther was ynowh to wepe and crie     Among the Modres, whan thei herde     Hou wofully this cause ferde,     Bot natheles thei moten bowe;     And thus wommen ther come ynowhe     With children soukende on the Tete.     Tho was ther manye teres lete,     Bot were hem lieve or were hem lothe,     The wommen and the children bothe     3230     Into the Paleis forth be broght     With many a sory hertes thoght     Of hem whiche of here bodi bore     The children hadde, and so forlore     Withinne a while scholden se.     The Modres wepe in here degre,     And manye of hem aswoune falle,     The yonge babes criden alle:     This noyse aros, the lord it herde,     And loked out, and how it ferde         3240     He sih, and as who seith abreide     Out of his slep, and thus he seide:     "O thou divine pourveance,     Which every man in the balance     Of kinde hast formed to be liche,     The povere is bore as is the riche     And deieth in the same wise,     Upon the fol, upon the wise     Siknesse and hele entrecomune;     Mai non eschuie that fortune                 3250     Which kinde hath in hire lawe set;     Hire strengthe and beaute ben beset     To every man aliche fre,     That sche preferreth no degre     As in the disposicioun     Of bodili complexioun:     And ek of Soule resonable     The povere child is bore als able     To vertu as the kinges Sone;     For every man his oghne wone         3260     After the lust of his assay     The vice or vertu chese may.     Thus stonden alle men franchised,     Bot in astat thei ben divised;     To some worschipe and richesse,     To some poverte and distresse,     On lordeth and an other serveth;     Bot yit as every man deserveth     The world yifth noght his yiftes hiere.     Bot certes he hath gret matiere         3270     To ben of good condicioun,     Which hath in his subjeccioun     The men that ben of his semblance."     And ek he tok a remembrance     How he that made lawe of kinde     Wolde every man to lawe binde,     And bad a man, such as he wolde     Toward himself, riht such he scholde     Toward an other don also.     And thus this worthi lord as tho        3280     Sette in balance his oghne astat     And with himself stod in debat,     And thoghte hou that it was noght good     To se so mochel mannes blod     Be spilt for cause of him alone.     He sih also the grete mone,     Of that the Modres were unglade,     And of the wo the children made,     Wherof that al his herte tendreth,     And such pite withinne engendreth,         3290     That him was levere forto chese     His oghne bodi forto lese,     Than se so gret a moerdre wroght     Upon the blod which gulteth noght.     Thus for the pite which he tok     Alle othre leches he forsok,     And put him out of aventure     Al only into goddes cure;     And seith, "Who that woll maister be,     He mot be servant to pite."     3300     So ferforth he was overcome     With charite, that he hath nome     His conseil and hise officers,     And bad unto hise tresorers     That thei his tresour al aboute     Departe among the povere route     Of wommen and of children bothe,     Wherof thei mihte hem fede and clothe     And saufli tornen hom ayein     Withoute lost of eny grein.     3310     Thurgh charite thus he despendeth     His good, wherof that he amendeth     The povere poeple, and contrevaileth     The harm, that he hem so travaileth:     And thus the woful nyhtes sorwe     To joie is torned on the morwe;     Al was thonkinge, al was blessinge,     Which erst was wepinge and cursinge;     Thes wommen gon hom glade ynowh,     Echon for joie on other lowh,        3320     And preiden for this lordes hele,     Which hath relessed the querele,     And hath his oghne will forsake     In charite for goddes sake.     Bot now hierafter thou schalt hiere     What god hath wroght in this matiere,     As he which doth al equite.     To him that wroghte charite     He was ayeinward charitous,     And to pite he was pitous:        3330     For it was nevere knowe yit     That charite goth unaquit.     The nyht, whan he was leid to slepe,     The hihe god, which wolde him kepe,     Seint Peter and seint Poul him sende,     Be whom he wolde his lepre amende.     Thei tuo to him slepende appiere     Fro god, and seide in this manere:     "O Constantin, for thou hast served     Pite, thou hast pite deserved:     3340     Forthi thou schalt such pite have     That god thurgh pite woll thee save.     So schalt thou double hele finde,     Ferst for thi bodiliche kinde,     And for thi wofull Soule also,     Thou schalt ben hol of bothe tuo.     And for thou schalt thee noght despeire,     Thi lepre schal nomore empeire     Til thou wolt sende therupon     Unto the Mont of Celion,     3350     Wher that Silvestre and his clergie     Togedre duelle in compaignie     For drede of thee, which many day     Hast ben a fo to Cristes lay,     And hast destruid to mochel schame     The prechours of his holy name.     Bot now thou hast somdiel appesed     Thi god, and with good dede plesed,     That thou thi pite hast bewared     Upon the blod which thou hast spared.         3360     Forthi to thi salvacion     Thou schalt have enformacioun,     Such as Silvestre schal the teche:     The nedeth of non other leche."     This Emperour, which al this herde,     "Grant merci lordes," he ansuerde,     "I wol do so as ye me seie.     Bot of o thing I wolde preie:     What schal I telle unto Silvestre     Or of youre name or of youre estre?"     3370     And thei him tolden what thei hihte,     And forth withal out of his sihte     Thei passen up into the hevene.     And he awok out of his swevene,     And clepeth, and men come anon:     He tolde his drem, and therupon     In such a wise as he hem telleth     The Mont wher that Silvestre duelleth     Thei have in alle haste soght,     And founde he was and with hem broght         3380     To themperour, which to him tolde     His swevene and elles what he wolde.     And whan Silvestre hath herd the king,     He was riht joiful of this thing,     And him began with al his wit     To techen upon holi writ     Ferst how mankinde was forlore,     And how the hihe god therfore     His Sone sende from above,     Which bore was for mannes love,         3390     And after of his oghne chois     He tok his deth upon the crois;     And how in grave he was beloke,     And how that he hath helle broke,     And tok hem out that were him lieve;     And forto make ous full believe     That he was verrai goddes Sone,     Ayein the kinde of mannes wone     Fro dethe he ros the thridde day,     And whanne he wolde, as he wel may,        3400     He styh up to his fader evene     With fleissh and blod into the hevene;     And riht so in the same forme     In fleissh and blod he schal reforme,     Whan time comth, the qwike and dede     At thilke woful dai of drede,     Where every man schal take his dom,     Als wel the Maister as the grom.     The mihti kinges retenue     That dai may stonde of no value         3410     With worldes strengthe to defende;     For every man mot thanne entende     To stonde upon his oghne dedes     And leve alle othre mennes nedes.     That dai mai no consail availe,     The pledour and the plee schal faile,     The sentence of that ilke day     Mai non appell sette in delay;     Ther mai no gold the Jugge plie,     That he ne schal the sothe trie         3420     And setten every man upriht,     Als wel the plowman as the kniht:     The lewed man, the grete clerk     Schal stonde upon his oghne werk,     And such as he is founde tho,     Such schal he be for everemo.     Ther mai no peine be relessed,     Ther mai no joie ben encressed,     Bot endeles, as thei have do,     He schal receive on of the tuo.         3430     And thus Silvestre with his sawe     The ground of al the newe lawe     With gret devocion he precheth,     Fro point to point and pleinly techeth     Unto this hethen Emperour;     And seith, the hihe creatour     Hath underfonge his charite,     Of that he wroghte such pite,     Whan he the children hadde on honde.     Thus whan this lord hath understonde     3440     Of al this thing how that it ferde,     Unto Silvestre he thanne ansuerde,     With al his hole herte and seith     That he is redi to the feith.     And so the vessel which for blod     Was mad, Silvestre, ther it stod,     With clene water of the welle     In alle haste he let do felle,     And sette Constantin therinne     Al naked up unto the chinne.         3450     And in the while it was begunne,     A liht, as thogh it were a Sunne,     Fro hevene into the place com     Wher that he tok his cristendom;     And evere among the holi tales     Lich as thei weren fisshes skales     Ther fellen from him now and eft,     Til that ther was nothing beleft     Of al his grete maladie.     For he that wolde him purefie,     3460     The hihe god hath mad him clene,     So that ther lefte nothing sene;     He hath him clensed bothe tuo,     The bodi and the Soule also.     Tho knew this Emperour in dede     That Cristes feith was forto drede,     And sende anon hise lettres oute     And let do crien al aboute,     Up peine of deth that noman weyve     That he baptesme ne receive:         3470     After his Moder qweene Heleine     He sende, and so betwen hem tweine     Thei treten, that the Cite all     Was cristned, and sche forth withall.     This Emperour, which hele hath founde,     Withinne Rome anon let founde     Tuo cherches, which he dede make     For Peter and for Poules sake,     Of whom he hadde avisioun;     And yaf therto possessioun        3480     Of lordschipe and of worldes good.     Bot how so that his will was good     Toward the Pope and his Franchise,     Yit hath it proved other wise,     To se the worchinge of the dede:     For in Cronique this I rede;     Anon as he hath mad the yifte,     A vois was herd on hih the lifte,     Of which al Rome was adrad,     And seith: "To day is venym schad     3490     In holi cherche of temporal,     Which medleth with the spirital."     And hou it stant of that degree     Yit mai a man the sothe se:     God mai amende it, whan he wile,     I can ther to non other skile.     Bot forto go ther I began,     How charite mai helpe a man     To bothe worldes, I have seid:     And if thou have an Ere leid,        3500     Mi Sone, thou miht understonde,     If charite be take on honde,     Ther folweth after mochel grace.     Forthi, if that thou wolt pourchace     How that thou miht Envie flee,     Aqueinte thee with charite,     Which is the vertu sovereine.     Mi fader, I schal do my peine:     For this ensample which ye tolde     With al myn herte I have withholde,        3510     So that I schal for everemore     Eschuie Envie wel the more:     And that I have er this misdo,     Yif me my penance er I go.     And over that to mi matiere     Of schrifte, why we sitten hiere     In privete betwen ous tweie,     Now axeth what ther is, I preie.     Mi goode Sone, and for thi lore     I woll thee telle what is more,         3520     So that thou schalt the vices knowe:     For whan thei be to thee full knowe,     Thou miht hem wel the betre eschuie.     And for this cause I thenke suie     The forme bothe and the matiere,     As now suiende thou schalt hiere     Which vice stant next after this:     And whan thou wost how that it is,     As thou schalt hiere me devise,     Thow miht thiself the betre avise.        3530     Explicit Liber Secundus