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

Naturatus amor nature legibus orbem     Subdit, et vnanimes concitat esse feras:     Huius enim mundi Princeps amor esse videtur,     Cuius eget diues, pauper et omnis ope.     Sunt in agone pares amor et fortuna, que cecas     Plebis ad insidias vertit vterque rotas.     Est amor egra salus, vexata quies, pius error,     Bellica pax, vulnus dulce, suaue malum.     I may noght strecche up to the hevene     Min hand, ne setten al in evene     This world, which evere is in balance:     It stant noght in my sufficance     So grete thinges to compasse,     Bot I mot lete it overpasse     And treten upon othre thinges.     Forthi the Stile of my writinges     Fro this day forth I thenke change     And speke of thing is noght so strange,        10     Which every kinde hath upon honde,     And wherupon the world mot stonde,     And hath don sithen it began,     And schal whil ther is any man;     And that is love, of which I mene     To trete, as after schal be sene.     In which ther can noman him reule,     For loves lawe is out of reule,     That of tomoche or of tolite     Welnyh is every man to wyte,     20     And natheles ther is noman     In al this world so wys, that can     Of love tempre the mesure,     Bot as it falth in aventure:     For wit ne strengthe may noght helpe,     And he which elles wolde him yelpe     Is rathest throwen under fote,     Ther can no wiht therof do bote.     For yet was nevere such covine,     That couthe ordeine a medicine     30     To thing which god in lawe of kinde     Hath set, for ther may noman finde     The rihte salve of such a Sor.     It hath and schal ben everemor     That love is maister wher he wile,     Ther can no lif make other skile;     For wher as evere him lest to sette,     Ther is no myht which him may lette.     Bot what schal fallen ate laste,     The sothe can no wisdom caste,        40     Bot as it falleth upon chance;     For if ther evere was balance     Which of fortune stant governed,     I may wel lieve as I am lerned     That love hath that balance on honde,     Which wol no reson understonde.     For love is blind and may noght se,     Forthi may no certeinete     Be set upon his jugement,     Bot as the whiel aboute went         50     He yifth his graces undeserved,     And fro that man which hath him served     Fulofte he takth aweye his fees,     As he that pleieth ate Dees,     And therupon what schal befalle     He not, til that the chance falle,     Wher he schal lese or he schal winne.     And thus fulofte men beginne,     That if thei wisten what it mente,     Thei wolde change al here entente.         60     And forto proven it is so,     I am miselven on of tho,     Which to this Scole am underfonge.     For it is siththe go noght longe,     As forto speke of this matiere,     I may you telle, if ye woll hiere,     A wonder hap which me befell,     That was to me bothe hard and fell,     Touchende of love and his fortune,     The which me liketh to comune        70     And pleinly forto telle it oute.     To hem that ben lovers aboute     Fro point to point I wol declare     And wryten of my woful care,     Mi wofull day, my wofull chance,     That men mowe take remembrance     Of that thei schall hierafter rede:     For in good feith this wolde I rede,     That every man ensample take     Of wisdom which him is betake,        80     And that he wot of good aprise     To teche it forth, for such emprise     Is forto preise; and therfore I     Woll wryte and schewe al openly     How love and I togedre mette,     Wherof the world ensample fette     Mai after this, whan I am go,     Of thilke unsely jolif wo,     Whos reule stant out of the weie,     Nou glad and nou gladnesse aweie,        90     And yet it may noght be withstonde     For oght that men may understonde.     Upon the point that is befalle     Of love, in which that I am falle,     I thenke telle my matiere:     Now herkne, who that wol it hiere,     Of my fortune how that it ferde.     This enderday, as I forthferde     To walke, as I yow telle may,-     And that was in the Monthe of Maii,         100     Whan every brid hath chose his make     And thenkth his merthes forto make     Of love that he hath achieved;     Bot so was I nothing relieved,     For I was further fro my love     Than Erthe is fro the hevene above,     As forto speke of eny sped:     So wiste I me non other red,     Bot as it were a man forfare     Unto the wode I gan to fare,     110     Noght forto singe with the briddes,     For whanne I was the wode amiddes,     I fond a swote grene pleine,     And ther I gan my wo compleigne     Wisshinge and wepinge al myn one,     For other merthes made I none.     So hard me was that ilke throwe,     That ofte sithes overthrowe     To grounde I was withoute breth;     And evere I wisshide after deth,         120     Whanne I out of my peine awok,     And caste up many a pitous lok     Unto the hevene, and seide thus:     "O thou Cupide, O thou Venus,     Thou god of love and thou goddesse,     Wher is pite? wher is meknesse?     Now doth me pleinly live or dye,     For certes such a maladie     As I now have and longe have hadd,     It myhte make a wisman madd,     130     If that it scholde longe endure.     O Venus, queene of loves cure,     Thou lif, thou lust, thou mannes hele,     Behold my cause and my querele,     And yif me som part of thi grace,     So that I may finde in this place     If thou be gracious or non."     And with that word I sawh anon     The kyng of love and qweene bothe;     Bot he that kyng with yhen wrothe     140     His chiere aweiward fro me caste,     And forth he passede ate laste.     Bot natheles er he forth wente     A firy Dart me thoghte he hente     And threw it thurgh myn herte rote:     In him fond I non other bote,     For lenger list him noght to duelle.     Bot sche that is the Source and Welle     Of wel or wo, that schal betide     To hem that loven, at that tide         150     Abod, bot forto tellen hiere     Sche cast on me no goodly chiere:     Thus natheles to me sche seide,     "What art thou, Sone?" and I abreide     Riht as a man doth out of slep,     And therof tok sche riht good kep     And bad me nothing ben adrad:     Bot for al that I was noght glad,     For I ne sawh no cause why.     And eft scheo asketh, what was I:     160     I seide, "A Caitif that lith hiere:     What wolde ye, my Ladi diere?     Schal I ben hol or elles dye?"     Sche seide, "Tell thi maladie:     What is thi Sor of which thou pleignest?     Ne hyd it noght, for if thou feignest,     I can do the no medicine."     "Ma dame, I am a man of thyne,     That in thi Court have longe served,     And aske that I have deserved,        170     Some wele after my longe wo."     And sche began to loure tho,     And seide, "Ther is manye of yow     Faitours, and so may be that thow     Art riht such on, and be feintise     Seist that thou hast me do servise."     And natheles sche wiste wel,     Mi world stod on an other whiel     Withouten eny faiterie:     Bot algate of my maladie     180     Sche bad me telle and seie hir trowthe.     "Ma dame, if ye wolde have rowthe,"     Quod I, "than wolde I telle yow."     "Sey forth," quod sche, "and tell me how;     Schew me thi seknesse everydiel."     "Ma dame, that can I do wel,     Be so my lif therto wol laste."     With that hir lok on me sche caste,     And seide: "In aunter if thou live,     Mi will is ferst that thou be schrive;        190     And natheles how that it is     I wot miself, bot for al this     Unto my prest, which comth anon,     I woll thou telle it on and on,     Bothe all thi thoght and al thi werk.     O Genius myn oghne Clerk,     Com forth and hier this mannes schrifte,"     Quod Venus tho; and I uplifte     Min hefd with that, and gan beholde     The selve Prest, which as sche wolde     200     Was redy there and sette him doun     To hiere my confessioun.     This worthi Prest, this holy man     To me spekende thus began,     And seide: "Benedicite,     Mi Sone, of the felicite     Of love and ek of all the wo     Thou schalt thee schrive of bothe tuo.     What thou er this for loves sake     Hast felt, let nothing be forsake,     210     Tell pleinliche as it is befalle."     And with that word I gan doun falle     On knees, and with devocioun     And with full gret contricioun     I seide thanne: "Dominus,     Min holi fader Genius,     So as thou hast experience     Of love, for whos reverence     Thou schalt me schriven at this time,     I prai the let me noght mistime         220     Mi schrifte, for I am destourbed     In al myn herte, and so contourbed,     That I ne may my wittes gete,     So schal I moche thing foryete:     Bot if thou wolt my schrifte oppose     Fro point to point, thanne I suppose,     Ther schal nothing be left behinde.     Bot now my wittes ben so blinde,     That I ne can miselven teche."     Tho he began anon to preche,     230     And with his wordes debonaire     He seide tome softe and faire:     "Thi schrifte to oppose and hiere,     My Sone, I am assigned hiere     Be Venus the godesse above,     Whos Prest I am touchende of love.     Bot natheles for certein skile     I mot algate and nedes wile     Noght only make my spekynges     Of love, bot of othre thinges,        240     That touchen to the cause of vice.     For that belongeth to thoffice     Of Prest, whos ordre that I bere,     So that I wol nothing forbere,     That I the vices on and on     Ne schal thee schewen everychon;     Wherof thou myht take evidence     To reule with thi conscience.     Bot of conclusion final     Conclude I wol in special         250     For love, whos servant I am,     And why the cause is that I cam.     So thenke I to don bothe tuo,     Ferst that myn ordre longeth to,     The vices forto telle arewe,     Bot next above alle othre schewe     Of love I wol the propretes,     How that thei stonde be degrees     After the disposicioun     Of Venus, whos condicioun         260     I moste folwe, as I am holde.     For I with love am al withholde,     So that the lasse I am to wyte,     Thogh I ne conne bot a lyte     Of othre thinges that ben wise:     I am noght tawht in such a wise;     For it is noght my comun us     To speke of vices and vertus,     Bot al of love and of his lore,     For Venus bokes of nomore         270     Me techen nowther text ne glose.     Bot for als moche as I suppose     It sit a prest to be wel thewed,     And schame it is if he be lewed,     Of my Presthode after the forme     I wol thi schrifte so enforme,     That ate leste thou schalt hiere     The vices, and to thi matiere     Of love I schal hem so remene,     That thou schalt knowe what thei mene.        280     For what a man schal axe or sein     Touchende of schrifte, it mot be plein,     It nedeth noght to make it queinte,     For trowthe hise wordes wol noght peinte:     That I wole axe of the forthi,     My Sone, it schal be so pleinly,     That thou schalt knowe and understonde     The pointz of schrifte how that thei stonde."     Betwen the lif and deth I herde     This Prestes tale er I answerde,         290     And thanne I preide him forto seie     His will, and I it wolde obeie     After the forme of his apprise.     Tho spak he tome in such a wise,     And bad me that I scholde schrive     As touchende of my wittes fyve,     And schape that thei were amended     Of that I hadde hem misdispended.     For tho be proprely the gates,     Thurgh whiche as to the herte algates         300     Comth alle thing unto the feire,     Which may the mannes Soule empeire.     And now this matiere is broght inne,     Mi Sone, I thenke ferst beginne     To wite how that thin yhe hath stonde,     The which is, as I understonde,     The moste principal of alle,     Thurgh whom that peril mai befalle.     And forto speke in loves kinde,     Ful manye suche a man mai finde,         310     Whiche evere caste aboute here yhe,     To loke if that thei myhte aspie     Fulofte thing which hem ne toucheth,     Bot only that here herte soucheth     In hindringe of an other wiht;     And thus ful many a worthi knyht     And many a lusti lady bothe     Have be fulofte sythe wrothe.     So that an yhe is as a thief     To love, and doth ful gret meschief;     320     And also for his oghne part     Fulofte thilke firy Dart     Of love, which that evere brenneth,     Thurgh him into the herte renneth:     And thus a mannes yhe ferst     Himselve grieveth alther werst,     And many a time that he knoweth     Unto his oghne harm it groweth.     Mi Sone, herkne now forthi     A tale, to be war therby     330     Thin yhe forto kepe and warde,     So that it passe noght his warde.     Ovide telleth in his bok     Ensample touchende of mislok,     And seith hou whilom ther was on,     A worthi lord, which Acteon     Was hote, and he was cousin nyh     To him that Thebes ferst on hyh     Up sette, which king Cadme hyhte.     This Acteon, as he wel myhte,         340     Above alle othre caste his chiere,     And used it fro yer to yere,     With Houndes and with grete Hornes     Among the wodes and the thornes     To make his hunting and his chace:     Where him best thoghte in every place     To finde gamen in his weie,     Ther rod he forto hunte and pleie.     So him befell upon a tide     On his hunting as he cam ride,        350     In a Forest al one he was:     He syh upon the grene gras     The faire freisshe floures springe,     He herde among the leves singe     The Throstle with the nyhtingale:     Thus er he wiste into a Dale     He cam, wher was a litel plein,     All round aboute wel besein     With buisshes grene and Cedres hyhe;     And ther withinne he caste his yhe.        360     Amidd the plein he syh a welle,     So fair ther myhte noman telle,     In which Diana naked stod     To bathe and pleie hire in the flod     With many a Nimphe, which hire serveth.     Bot he his yhe awey ne swerveth     Fro hire, which was naked al,     And sche was wonder wroth withal,     And him, as sche which was godesse,     Forschop anon, and the liknesse         370     Sche made him taken of an Hert,     Which was tofore hise houndes stert,     That ronne besiliche aboute     With many an horn and many a route,     That maden mochel noise and cry:     And ate laste unhappely     This Hert his oghne houndes slowhe     And him for vengance al todrowhe.     Lo now, my Sone, what it is     A man to caste his yhe amis,     380     Which Acteon hath dere aboght;     Be war forthi and do it noght.     For ofte, who that hiede toke,     Betre is to winke than to loke.     And forto proven it is so,     Ovide the Poete also     A tale which to this matiere     Acordeth seith, as thou schalt hiere.     In Metamor it telleth thus,     How that a lord which Phorce
s         390     Was hote, hadde dowhtres thre.     Bot upon here nativite     Such was the constellacion,     That out of mannes nacion     Fro kynde thei be so miswent,     That to the liknesse of Serpent     Thei were bore, and so that on     Of hem was cleped Stellibon,     That other soster Suriale,     The thridde, as telleth in the tale,        400     Medusa hihte, and natheles     Of comun name Gorgones     In every contre ther aboute,     As Monstres whiche that men doute,     Men clepen hem; and bot on yhe     Among hem thre in pourpartie     Thei hadde, of which thei myhte se,     Now hath it this, now hath it sche;     After that cause and nede it ladde,     Be throwes ech of hem it hadde.         410     A wonder thing yet more amis     Ther was, wherof I telle al this:     What man on hem his chiere caste     And hem behield, he was als faste     Out of a man into a Ston     Forschape, and thus ful manyon     Deceived were, of that thei wolde     Misloke, wher that thei ne scholde.     Bot Perse
s that worthi knyht,     Whom Pallas of hir grete myht        420     Halp, and tok him a Schield therto,     And ek the god Mercurie also     Lente him a swerd, he, as it fell,     Beyende Athlans the hihe hell     These Monstres soghte, and there he fond     Diverse men of thilke lond     Thurgh sihte of hem mistorned were,     Stondende as Stones hiere and there.     Bot he, which wisdom and prouesse     Hadde of the god and the godesse,        430     The Schield of Pallas gan enbrace,     With which he covereth sauf his face,     Mercuries Swerd and out he drowh,     And so he bar him that he slowh     These dredful Monstres alle thre.     Lo now, my Sone, avise the,     That thou thi sihte noght misuse:     Cast noght thin yhe upon Meduse,     That thou be torned into Ston:     For so wys man was nevere non,            440     Bot if he wel his yhe kepe     And take of fol delit no kepe,     That he with lust nys ofte nome,     Thurgh strengthe of love and overcome.     Of mislokynge how it hath ferd,     As I have told, now hast thou herd,     My goode Sone, and tak good hiede.     And overthis yet I thee rede     That thou be war of thin heringe,     Which to the Herte the tidinge     450     Of many a vanite hath broght,     To tarie with a mannes thoght.     And natheles good is to hiere     Such thing wherof a man may lere     That to vertu is acordant,     And toward al the remenant     Good is to torne his Ere fro;     For elles, bot a man do so,     Him may fulofte mysbefalle.     I rede ensample amonges alle,         460     Wherof to kepe wel an Ere     It oghte pute a man in fere.     A Serpent, which that Aspidis     Is cleped, of his kynde hath this,     That he the Ston noblest of alle,     The which that men Carbuncle calle,     Berth in his hed above on heihte.     For which whan that a man be sleyhte,     The Ston to winne and him to daunte,     With his carecte him wolde enchaunte,     470     Anon as he perceiveth that,     He leith doun his on Ere al plat     Unto the ground, and halt it faste,     And ek that other Ere als faste     He stoppeth with his tail so sore,     That he the wordes lasse or more     Of his enchantement ne hiereth;     And in this wise himself he skiereth,     So that he hath the wordes weyved     And thurgh his Ere is noght deceived.         480     An othre thing, who that recordeth,     Lich unto this ensample acordeth,     Which in the tale of Troie I finde.     Sirenes of a wonder kynde     Ben Monstres, as the bokes tellen,     And in the grete Se thei duellen:     Of body bothe and of visage     Lik unto wommen of yong age     Up fro the Navele on hih thei be,     And doun benethe, as men mai se,         490     Thei bere of fisshes the figure.     And overthis of such nature     Thei ben, that with so swete a stevene     Lik to the melodie of hevene     In wommanysshe vois thei singe,     With notes of so gret likinge,     Of such mesure, of such musike,     Wherof the Schipes thei beswike     That passen be the costes there.     For whan the Schipmen leie an Ere     500     Unto the vois, in here avys     Thei wene it be a Paradys,     Which after is to hem an helle.     For reson may noght with hem duelle,     Whan thei tho grete lustes hiere;     Thei conne noght here Schipes stiere,     So besiliche upon the note     Thei herkne, and in such wise assote,     That thei here rihte cours and weie     Foryete, and to here Ere obeie,     510     And seilen til it so befalle     That thei into the peril falle,     Where as the Schipes be todrawe,     And thei ben with the Monstres slawe.     Bot fro this peril natheles     With his wisdom king Uluxes     Ascapeth and it overpasseth;     For he tofor the hond compasseth     That noman of his compaignie     Hath pouer unto that folie        520     His Ere for no lust to caste;     For he hem stoppede alle faste,     That non of hem mai hiere hem singe.     So whan they comen forth seilinge,     Ther was such governance on honde,     That thei the Monstres have withstonde     And slain of hem a gret partie.     Thus was he sauf with his navie,     This wise king, thurgh governance.     Wherof, my Sone, in remembrance         530     Thou myht ensample taken hiere,     As I have told, and what thou hiere     Be wel war, and yif no credence,     Bot if thou se more evidence.     For if thou woldest take kepe     And wisly cowthest warde and kepe     Thin yhe and Ere, as I have spoke,     Than haddest thou the gates stoke     Fro such Sotie as comth to winne     Thin hertes wit, which is withinne,         540     Wherof that now thi love excedeth     Mesure, and many a peine bredeth.     Bot if thou cowthest sette in reule     Tho tuo, the thre were eth to reule:     Forthi as of thi wittes five     I wole as now nomore schryve,     Bot only of these ilke tuo.     Tell me therfore if it be so,     Hast thou thin yhen oght misthrowe?     Mi fader, ye, I am beknowe,            550     I have hem cast upon Meduse,     Therof I may me noght excuse:     Min herte is growen into Ston,     So that my lady therupon     Hath such a priente of love grave,     That I can noght miselve save.     What seist thou, Sone, as of thin Ere?     Mi fader, I am gultyf there;     For whanne I may my lady hiere,     Mi wit with that hath lost his Stiere:        560     I do noght as Uluxes dede,     Bot falle anon upon the stede,     Wher as I se my lady stonde;     And there, I do yow understonde,     I am topulled in my thoght,     So that of reson leveth noght,     Wherof that I me mai defende.     My goode Sone, god thamende:     For as me thenketh be thi speche     Thi wittes ben riht feer to seche.         570     As of thin Ere and of thin yhe     I woll nomore specefie,     Bot I woll axen overthis     Of othre thing how that it is.     Mi Sone, as I thee schal enforme,     Ther ben yet of an other forme     Of dedly vices sevene applied,     Wherof the herte is ofte plied     To thing which after schal him grieve.     The ferste of hem thou schalt believe             580     Is Pride, which is principal,     And hath with him in special     Ministres five ful diverse,     Of whiche, as I the schal reherse,     The ferste is seid Ypocrisie.     If thou art of his compaignie,     Tell forth, my Sone, and schrif the clene.     I wot noght, fader, what ye mene:     Bot this I wolde you beseche,     That ye me be som weie teche         590     What is to ben an ypocrite;     And thanne if I be forto wyte,     I wol beknowen, as it is.     Mi Sone, an ypocrite is this,-     A man which feigneth conscience,     As thogh it were al innocence,     Withoute, and is noght so withinne;     And doth so for he wolde winne     Of his desir the vein astat.     And whanne he comth anon therat,         600     He scheweth thanne what he was,     The corn is torned into gras,     That was a Rose is thanne a thorn,     And he that was a Lomb beforn     Is thanne a Wolf, and thus malice     Under the colour of justice     Is hid; and as the poeple telleth,     These ordres witen where he duelleth,     As he that of here conseil is,     And thilke world which thei er this        610     Forsoken, he drawth in ayein:     He clotheth richesse, as men sein,     Under the simplesce of poverte,     And doth to seme of gret decerte     Thing which is litel worth withinne:     He seith in open, fy! to Sinne,     And in secre ther is no vice     Of which that he nis a Norrice:     And evere his chiere is sobre and softe,     And where he goth he blesseth ofte,         620     Wherof the blinde world he dreccheth.     Bot yet al only he ne streccheth     His reule upon religioun,     Bot next to that condicioun     In suche as clepe hem holy cherche     It scheweth ek how he can werche     Among tho wyde furred hodes,     To geten hem the worldes goodes.     And thei hemself ben thilke same     That setten most the world in blame,        630     Bot yet in contraire of her lore     Ther is nothing thei loven more;     So that semende of liht thei werke     The dedes whiche are inward derke.     And thus this double Ypocrisie     With his devolte apparantie     A viser set upon his face,     Wherof toward this worldes grace     He semeth to be riht wel thewed,     And yit his herte is al beschrewed.        640     Bot natheles he stant believed,     And hath his pourpos ofte achieved     Of worschipe and of worldes welthe,     And takth it, as who seith, be stelthe     Thurgh coverture of his fallas.     And riht so in semblable cas     This vice hath ek his officers     Among these othre seculers     Of grete men, for of the smale     As for tacompte he set no tale,     650     Bot thei that passen the comune     With suche him liketh to comune,     And where he seith he wol socoure     The poeple, there he woll devoure;     For now aday is manyon     Which spekth of Peter and of John     And thenketh Judas in his herte.     Ther schal no worldes good asterte     His hond, and yit he yifth almesse     And fasteth ofte and hiereth Messe:        660     With mea culpa, which he seith,     Upon his brest fullofte he leith     His hond, and cast upward his yhe,     As thogh he Cristes face syhe;     So that it seemeth ate syhte,     As he al one alle othre myhte     Rescoue with his holy bede.     Bot yet his herte in other stede     Among hise bedes most devoute     Goth in the worldes cause aboute,        670     How that he myhte his warisoun     Encresce.    And in comparisoun     Ther ben lovers of such a sort,     That feignen hem an humble port,     And al is bot Ypocrisie,     Which with deceipte and flaterie     Hath many a worthi wif beguiled.     For whanne he hath his tunge affiled,     With softe speche and with lesinge,     Forth with his fals pitous lokynge,         680     He wolde make a womman wene     To gon upon the faire grene,     Whan that sche falleth in the Mir.     For if he may have his desir,     How so falle of the remenant,     He halt no word of covenant;     Bot er the time that he spede,     Ther is no sleihte at thilke nede,     Which eny loves faitour mai,     That he ne put it in assai,        690     As him belongeth forto done.     The colour of the reyni Mone     With medicine upon his face     He set, and thanne he axeth grace,     As he which hath sieknesse feigned.     Whan his visage is so desteigned,     With yhe upcast on hire he siketh,     And many a contenance he piketh,     To bringen hire in to believe     Of thing which that he wolde achieve,     700     Wherof he berth the pale hewe;     And for he wolde seme trewe,     He makth him siek, whan he is heil.     Bot whanne he berth lowest the Seil,     Thanne is he swiftest to beguile     The womman, which that ilke while     Set upon him feith or credence.     Mi Sone, if thou thi conscience     Entamed hast in such a wise,     In schrifte thou thee myht avise        710     And telle it me, if it be so.     Min holy fader, certes no.     As forto feigne such sieknesse     It nedeth noght, for this witnesse     I take of god, that my corage     Hath ben mor siek than my visage.     And ek this mai I wel avowe,     So lowe cowthe I nevere bowe     To feigne humilite withoute,     That me ne leste betre loute         720     With alle the thoghtes of myn herte;     For that thing schal me nevere asterte,     I speke as to my lady diere,     To make hire eny feigned chiere.     God wot wel there I lye noght,     Mi chiere hath be such as my thoght;     For in good feith, this lieveth wel,     Mi will was betre a thousendel     Than eny chiere that I cowthe.     Bot, Sire, if I have in my yowthe     730     Don other wise in other place,     I put me therof in your grace:     For this excusen I ne schal,     That I have elles overal     To love and to his compaignie     Be plein withoute Ypocrisie;     Bot ther is on the which I serve,     Althogh I may no thonk deserve,     To whom yet nevere into this day     I seide onlyche or ye or nay,         740     Bot if it so were in my thoght.     As touchende othre seie I noght     That I nam somdel forto wyte     Of that ye clepe an ypocrite.     Mi Sone, it sit wel every wiht     To kepe his word in trowthe upryht     Towardes love in alle wise.     For who that wolde him wel avise     What hath befalle in this matiere,     He scholde noght with feigned chiere     750     Deceive Love in no degre.     To love is every herte fre,     Bot in deceipte if that thou feignest     And therupon thi lust atteignest,     That thow hast wonne with thi wyle,     Thogh it thee like for a whyle,     Thou schalt it afterward repente.     And forto prove myn entente,     I finde ensample in a Croniqe     Of hem that love so beswike.         760     It fell be olde daies thus,     Whil themperour Tiberius     The Monarchie of Rome ladde,     Ther was a worthi Romein hadde     A wif, and sche Pauline hihte,     Which was to every mannes sihte     Of al the Cite the faireste,     And as men seiden, ek the beste.     It is and hath ben evere yit,     That so strong is no mannes wit,         770     Which thurgh beaute ne mai be drawe     To love, and stonde under the lawe     Of thilke bore frele kinde,     Which makth the hertes yhen blinde,     Wher no reson mai be comuned:     And in this wise stod fortuned     This tale, of which I wolde mene;     This wif, which in hire lustes grene     Was fair and freissh and tendre of age,     Sche may noght lette the corage         780     Of him that wole on hire assote.     Ther was a Duck, and he was hote     Mundus, which hadde in his baillie     To lede the chivalerie     Of Rome, and was a worthi knyht;     Bot yet he was noght of such myht     The strengthe of love to withstonde,     That he ne was so broght to honde,     That malgre wher he wole or no,     This yonge wif he loveth so,     790     That he hath put al his assay     To wynne thing which he ne may     Gete of hire graunt in no manere,     Be yifte of gold ne be preiere.     And whanne he syh that be no mede     Toward hir love he myhte spede,     Be sleyhte feigned thanne he wroghte;     And therupon he him bethoghte     How that ther was in the Cite     A temple of such auctorite,        800     To which with gret Devocioun     The noble wommen of the toun     Most comunliche a pelrinage     Gon forto preie thilke ymage     Which the godesse of childinge is,     And cleped was be name Ysis:     And in hire temple thanne were,     To reule and to ministre there     After the lawe which was tho,     Above alle othre Prestes tuo.        810     This Duck, which thoghte his love gete,     Upon a day hem tuo to mete     Hath bede, and thei come at his heste;     Wher that thei hadde a riche feste,     And after mete in prive place     This lord, which wolde his thonk pourchace,     To ech of hem yaf thanne a yifte,     And spak so that be weie of schrifte     He drowh hem unto his covine,     To helpe and schape how he Pauline         820     After his lust deceive myhte.     And thei here trowthes bothe plyhte,     That thei be nyhte hire scholden wynne     Into the temple, and he therinne     Schal have of hire al his entente:     And thus acorded forth thei wente.     Now lest thurgh which ypocrisie     Ordeigned was the tricherie,     Wherof this ladi was deceived.     These Prestes hadden wel conceived         830     That sche was of gret holinesse;     And with a contrefet simplesse,     Which hid was in a fals corage,     Feignende an hevenely message     Thei come and seide unto hir thus:     "Pauline, the god Anubus     Hath sent ous bothe Prestes hiere,     And seith he woll to thee appiere     Be nyhtes time himself alone,     For love he hath to thi persone:        840     And therupon he hath ous bede,     That we in Ysis temple a stede     Honestely for thee pourveie,     Wher thou be nyhte, as we thee seie,     Of him schalt take avisioun.     For upon thi condicioun,     The which is chaste and ful of feith,     Such pris, as he ous tolde, he leith,     That he wol stonde of thin acord;     And forto bere hierof record         850     He sende ous hider bothe tuo."     Glad was hire innocence tho     Of suche wordes as sche herde,     With humble chiere and thus answerde,     And seide that the goddes wille     Sche was al redy to fulfille,     That be hire housebondes leve     Sche wolde in Ysis temple at eve     Upon hire goddes grace abide,     To serven him the nyhtes tide.     860     The Prestes tho gon hom ayein,     And sche goth to hire sovereign,     Of goddes wille and as it was     Sche tolde him al the pleine cas,     Wherof he was deceived eke,     And bad that sche hire scholde meke     Al hol unto the goddes heste.     And thus sche, which was al honeste     To godward after hire entente,     At nyht unto the temple wente,        870     Wher that the false Prestes were;     And thei receiven hire there     With such a tokne of holinesse,     As thogh thei syhen a godesse,     And al withinne in prive place     A softe bedd of large space     Thei hadde mad and encourtined,     Wher sche was afterward engined.     Bot sche, which al honour supposeth,     The false Prestes thanne opposeth,     880     And axeth be what observance     Sche myhte most to the plesance     Of godd that nyhtes reule kepe:     And thei hire bidden forto slepe     Liggende upon the bedd alofte,     For so, thei seide, al stille and softe     God Anubus hire wolde awake.     The conseil in this wise take,     The Prestes fro this lady gon;     And sche, that wiste of guile non,     890     In the manere as it was seid     To slepe upon the bedd is leid,     In hope that sche scholde achieve     Thing which stod thanne upon bilieve,     Fulfild of alle holinesse.     Bot sche hath failed, as I gesse,     For in a closet faste by     The Duck was hid so prively     That sche him myhte noght perceive;     And he, that thoghte to deceive,         900     Hath such arrai upon him nome,     That whanne he wolde unto hir come,     It scholde semen at hire yhe     As thogh sche verrailiche syhe     God Anubus, and in such wise     This ypocrite of his queintise     Awaiteth evere til sche slepte.     And thanne out of his place he crepte     So stille that sche nothing herde,     And to the bedd stalkende he ferde,         910     And sodeinly, er sche it wiste,     Beclipt in armes he hire kiste:     Wherof in wommanysshe drede     Sche wok and nyste what to rede;     Bot he with softe wordes milde     Conforteth hire and seith, with childe     He wolde hire make in such a kynde     That al the world schal have in mynde     The worschipe of that ilke Sone;     For he schal with the goddes wone,     920     And ben himself a godd also.     With suche wordes and with mo,     The whiche he feigneth in his speche,     This lady wit was al to seche,     As sche which alle trowthe weneth:     Bot he, that alle untrowthe meneth,     With blinde tales so hire ladde,     That all his wille of hire he hadde.     And whan him thoghte it was ynowh,     Ayein the day he him withdrowh     930     So prively that sche ne wiste     Wher he becom, bot as him liste     Out of the temple he goth his weie.     And sche began to bidde and preie     Upon the bare ground knelende,     And after that made hire offrende,     And to the Prestes yiftes grete     Sche yaf, and homward be the Strete.     The Duck hire mette and seide thus:     "The myhti godd which Anubus         940     Is hote, he save the, Pauline,     For thou art of his discipline     So holy, that no mannes myht     Mai do that he hath do to nyht     Of thing which thou hast evere eschuied.     Bot I his grace have so poursuied,     That I was mad his lieutenant:     Forthi be weie of covenant     Fro this day forth I am al thin,     And if thee like to be myn,        950     That stant upon thin oghne wille."     Sche herde his tale and bar it stille,     And hom sche wente, as it befell,     Into hir chambre, and ther sche fell     Upon hire bedd to wepe and crie,     And seide: "O derke ypocrisie,     Thurgh whos dissimilacion     Of fals ymaginacion     I am thus wickedly deceived!     Bot that I have it aperceived        960     I thonke unto the goddes alle;     For thogh it ones be befalle,     It schal nevere eft whil that I live,     And thilke avou to godd I yive."     And thus wepende sche compleigneth,     Hire faire face and al desteigneth     With wofull teres of hire ije,     So that upon this agonie     Hire housebonde is inne come,     And syh how sche was overcome        970     With sorwe, and axeth what hire eileth.     And sche with that hirself beweileth     Welmore than sche dede afore,     And seide, "Helas, wifhode is lore     In me, which whilom was honeste,     I am non other than a beste,     Now I defouled am of tuo."     And as sche myhte speke tho,     Aschamed with a pitous onde     Sche tolde unto hir housebonde     980     The sothe of al the hole tale,     And in hire speche ded and pale     Sche swouneth welnyh to the laste.     And he hire in hise armes faste     Uphield, and ofte swor his oth     That he with hire is nothing wroth,     For wel he wot sche may ther noght:     Bot natheles withinne his thoght     His herte stod in sori plit,     And seide he wolde of that despit     990     Be venged, how so evere it falle,     And sende unto hise frendes alle.     And whan thei weren come in fere,     He tolde hem upon this matiere,     And axeth hem what was to done:     And thei avised were sone,     And seide it thoghte hem for the beste     To sette ferst his wif in reste,     And after pleigne to the king     Upon the matiere of this thing.         1000     Tho was this wofull wif conforted     Be alle weies and desported,     Til that sche was somdiel amended;     And thus a day or tuo despended,     The thridde day sche goth to pleigne     With many a worthi Citezeine,     And he with many a Citezein.     Whan themperour it herde sein,     And knew the falshed of the vice,     He seide he wolde do justice:        1010     And ferst he let the Prestes take,     And for thei scholde it noght forsake,     He put hem into questioun;     Bot thei of the suggestioun     Ne couthen noght a word refuse,     Bot for thei wolde hemself excuse,     The blame upon the Duck thei leide.     Bot therayein the conseil seide     That thei be noght excused so,     For he is on and thei ben tuo,        1020     And tuo han more wit then on,     So thilke excusement was non.     And over that was seid hem eke,     That whan men wolden vertu seke,     Men scholde it in the Prestes finde;     Here ordre is of so hyh a kinde,     That thei be Duistres of the weie:     Forthi, if eny man forsueie     Thurgh hem, thei be noght excusable.     And thus be lawe resonable        1030     Among the wise jugges there     The Prestes bothe dampned were,     So that the prive tricherie     Hid under fals Ipocrisie     Was thanne al openliche schewed,     That many a man hem hath beschrewed.     And whan the Prestes weren dede,     The temple of thilke horrible dede     Thei thoghten purge, and thilke ymage,     Whos cause was the pelrinage,         1040     Thei drowen out and als so faste     Fer into Tibre thei it caste,     Wher the Rivere it hath defied:     And thus the temple purified     Thei have of thilke horrible Sinne,     Which was that time do therinne.     Of this point such was the juise,     Bot of the Duck was other wise:     For he with love was bestad,     His dom was noght so harde lad;         1050     For Love put reson aweie     And can noght se the rihte weie.     And be this cause he was respited,     So that the deth him was acquited,     Bot for al that he was exiled,     For he his love hath so beguiled,     That he schal nevere come ayein:     For who that is to trowthe unplein,     He may noght failen of vengance.     And ek to take remembrance        1060     Of that Ypocrisie hath wroght     On other half, men scholde noght     To lihtly lieve al that thei hiere,     Bot thanne scholde a wisman stiere     The Schip, whan suche wyndes blowe:     For ferst thogh thei beginne lowe,     At ende thei be noght menable,     Bot al tobreken Mast and Cable,     So that the Schip with sodein blast,     Whan men lest wene, is overcast;        1070     As now fulofte a man mai se:     And of old time how it hath be     I finde a gret experience,     Wherof to take an evidence     Good is, and to be war also     Of the peril, er him be wo.     Of hem that ben so derk withinne,     At Troie also if we beginne,     Ipocrisie it hath betraied:     For whan the Greks hadde al assaied,        1080     And founde that be no bataille     Ne be no Siege it myhte availe     The toun to winne thurgh prouesse,     This vice feigned of simplesce     Thurgh sleyhte of Calcas and of Crise     It wan be such a maner wise.     An Hors of Bras thei let do forge     Of such entaile, of such a forge,     That in this world was nevere man     That such an other werk began.     1090     The crafti werkman Epius     It made, and forto telle thus,     The Greks, that thoghten to beguile     The kyng of Troie, in thilke while     With Anthenor and with Enee,     That were bothe of the Cite     And of the conseil the wiseste,     The richeste and the myhtieste,     In prive place so thei trete     With fair beheste and yiftes grete         1100     Of gold, that thei hem have engined;     Togedre and whan thei be covined,     Thei feignen forto make a pes,     And under that yit natheles     Thei schopen the destruccioun     Bothe of the kyng and of the toun.     And thus the false pees was take     Of hem of Grece and undertake,     And therupon thei founde a weie,     Wher strengthe myhte noght aweie,        1110     That sleihte scholde helpe thanne;     And of an ynche a large spanne     Be colour of the pees thei made,     And tolden how thei weren glade     Of that thei stoden in acord;     And for it schal ben of record,     Unto the kyng the Gregois seiden,     Be weie of love and this thei preiden,     As thei that wolde his thonk deserve,     A Sacrifice unto Minerve,     1120     The pes to kepe in good entente,     Thei mosten offre er that thei wente.     The kyng conseiled in this cas     Be Anthenor and Eneas     Therto hath yoven his assent:     So was the pleine trowthe blent     Thurgh contrefet Ipocrisie     Of that thei scholden sacrifie.     The Greks under the holinesse     Anon with alle besinesse     1130     Here Hors of Bras let faire dihte,     Which was to sen a wonder sihte;     For it was trapped of himselve,     And hadde of smale whieles twelve,     Upon the whiche men ynowe     With craft toward the toun it drowe,     And goth glistrende ayein the Sunne.     Tho was ther joie ynowh begunne,     For Troie in gret devocioun     Cam also with processioun         1140     Ayein this noble Sacrifise     With gret honour, and in this wise     Unto the gates thei it broghte.     Bot of here entre whan thei soghte,     The gates weren al to smale;     And therupon was many a tale,     Bot for the worschipe of Minerve,     To whom thei comen forto serve,     Thei of the toun, whiche understode     That al this thing was do for goode,        1150     For pes, wherof that thei ben glade,     The gates that Neptunus made     A thousend wynter ther tofore,     Thei have anon tobroke and tore;     The stronge walles doun thei bete,     So that in to the large strete     This Hors with gret solempnite     Was broght withinne the Cite,     And offred with gret reverence,     Which was to Troie an evidence     1160     Of love and pes for everemo.     The Gregois token leve tho     With al the hole felaschipe,     And forth thei wenten into Schipe     And crossen seil and made hem yare,     Anon as thogh thei wolden fare:     Bot whan the blake wynter nyht     Withoute Mone or Sterre lyht     Bederked hath the water Stronde,     Al prively thei gon to londe         1170     Ful armed out of the navie.     Synon, which mad was here aspie     Withinne Troie, as was conspired,     Whan time was a tokne hath fired;     And thei with that here weie holden,     And comen in riht as thei wolden,     Ther as the gate was tobroke.     The pourpos was full take and spoke:     Er eny man may take kepe,     Whil that the Cite was aslepe,        1180     Thei slowen al that was withinne,     And token what thei myhten wynne     Of such good as was sufficant,     And brenden up the remenant.     And thus cam out the tricherie,     Which under fals Ypocrisie     Was hid, and thei that wende pees     Tho myhten finde no reles     Of thilke swerd which al devoureth.     Fulofte and thus the swete soureth,         1190     Whan it is knowe to the tast:     He spilleth many a word in wast     That schal with such a poeple trete;     For whan he weneth most beyete,     Thanne is he schape most to lese.     And riht so if a womman chese     Upon the wordes that sche hiereth     Som man, whan he most trewe appiereth,     Thanne is he forthest fro the trowthe:     Bot yit fulofte, and that is rowthe,        1200     Thei speden that ben most untrewe     And loven every day a newe,     Wherof the lief is after loth     And love hath cause to be wroth.     Bot what man that his lust desireth     Of love, and therupon conspireth     With wordes feigned to deceive,     He schal noght faile to receive     His peine, as it is ofte sene.     Forthi, my Sone, as I thee mene,         1210     It sit the wel to taken hiede     That thou eschuie of thi manhiede     Ipocrisie and his semblant,     That thou ne be noght deceivant,     To make a womman to believe     Thing which is noght in thi bilieve:     For in such feint Ipocrisie     Of love is al the tricherie,     Thurgh which love is deceived ofte;     For feigned semblant is so softe,        1220     Unethes love may be war.     Forthi, my Sone, as I wel dar,     I charge thee to fle that vice,     That many a womman hath mad nice;     Bot lok thou dele noght withal.     Iwiss, fader, nomor I schal.     Now, Sone, kep that thou hast swore:     For this that thou hast herd before     Is seid the ferste point of Pride:     And next upon that other side,        1230     To schryve and speken overthis     Touchende of Pride, yit ther is     The point seconde, I thee behote,     Which Inobedience is hote.     This vice of Inobedience     Ayein the reule of conscience     Al that is humble he desalloweth,     That he toward his god ne boweth     After the lawes of his heste.     Noght as a man bot as a beste,        1240     Which goth upon his lustes wilde,     So goth this proude vice unmylde,     That he desdeigneth alle lawe:     He not what is to be felawe,     And serve may he noght for pride;     So is he badde on every side,     And is that selve of whom men speke,     Which wol noght bowe er that he breke.     I not if love him myhte plie,     For elles forto justefie     1250     His herte, I not what mihte availe.     Forthi, my Sone, of such entaile     If that thin herte be disposed,     Tell out and let it noght be glosed:     For if that thou unbuxom be     To love, I not in what degree     Thou schalt thi goode world achieve.     Mi fader, ye schul wel believe,     The yonge whelp which is affaited     Hath noght his Maister betre awaited,     1260     To couche, whan he seith "Go lowe,"     That I, anon as I may knowe     Mi ladi will, ne bowe more.     Bot other while I grucche sore     Of some thinges that sche doth,     Wherof that I woll telle soth:     For of tuo pointz I am bethoght,     That, thogh I wolde, I myhte noght     Obeie unto my ladi heste;     Bot I dar make this beheste,     1270     Save only of that ilke tuo     I am unbuxom of no mo.     Whan ben tho tuo? tell on, quod he.     Mi fader, this is on, that sche     Comandeth me my mowth to close,     And that I scholde hir noght oppose     In love, of which I ofte preche,     Bot plenerliche of such a speche     Forbere, and soffren hire in pes.     Bot that ne myhte I natheles         1280     For al this world obeie ywiss;     For whanne I am ther as sche is,     Though sche my tales noght alowe,     Ayein hir will yit mot I bowe,     To seche if that I myhte have grace:     Bot that thing may I noght enbrace     For ought that I can speke or do;     And yit fulofte I speke so,     That sche is wroth and seith, "Be stille."     If I that heste schal fulfille     1290     And therto ben obedient,     Thanne is my cause fully schent,     For specheles may noman spede.     So wot I noght what is to rede;     Bot certes I may noght obeie,     That I ne mot algate seie     Somwhat of that I wolde mene;     For evere it is aliche grene,     The grete love which I have,     Wherof I can noght bothe save        1300     My speche and this obedience:     And thus fulofte my silence     I breke, and is the ferste point     Wherof that I am out of point     In this, and yit it is no pride.     Now thanne upon that other side     To telle my desobeissance,     Ful sore it stant to my grevance     And may noght sinke into my wit;     For ofte time sche me bit         1310     To leven hire and chese a newe,     And seith, if I the sothe knewe     How ferr I stonde from hir grace,     I scholde love in other place.     Bot therof woll I desobeie;     For also wel sche myhte seie,     "Go tak the Mone ther it sit,"     As bringe that into my wit:     For ther was nevere rooted tre,     That stod so faste in his degre,         1320     That I ne stonde more faste     Upon hire love, and mai noght caste     Min herte awey, althogh I wolde.     For god wot, thogh I nevere scholde     Sen hir with yhe after this day,     Yit stant it so that I ne may     Hir love out of my brest remue.     This is a wonder retenue,     That malgre wher sche wole or non     Min herte is everemore in on,         1330     So that I can non other chese,     Bot whether that I winne or lese,     I moste hire loven til I deie;     And thus I breke as be that weie     Hire hestes and hir comandinges,     Bot trewliche in non othre thinges.     Forthi, my fader, what is more     Touchende to this ilke lore     I you beseche, after the forme     That ye pleinly me wolde enforme,        1340     So that I may myn herte reule     In loves cause after the reule.     Toward this vice of which we trete     Ther ben yit tweie of thilke estrete,     Here name is Murmur and Compleignte:     Ther can noman here chiere peinte,     To sette a glad semblant therinne,     For thogh fortune make hem wynne,     Yit grucchen thei, and if thei lese,     Ther is no weie forto chese,     1350     Wherof thei myhten stonde appesed.     So ben thei comunly desesed;     Ther may no welthe ne poverte     Attempren hem to the decerte     Of buxomnesse be no wise:     For ofte time thei despise     The goode fortune as the badde,     As thei no mannes reson hadde,     Thurgh pride, wherof thei be blinde.     And ryht of such a maner kinde     1360     Ther be lovers, that thogh thei have     Of love al that thei wolde crave,     Yit wol thei grucche be som weie,     That thei wol noght to love obeie     Upon the trowthe, as thei do scholde;     And if hem lacketh that thei wolde,     Anon thei falle in such a peine,     That evere unbuxomly thei pleigne     Upon fortune, and curse and crie,     That thei wol noght here hertes plie     1370     To soffre til it betre falle.     Forthi if thou amonges alle     Hast used this condicioun,     Mi Sone, in thi Confessioun     Now tell me pleinly what thou art.     Mi fader, I beknowe a part,     So as ye tolden hier above     Of Murmur and Compleignte of love,     That for I se no sped comende,     Ayein fortune compleignende     1380     I am, as who seith, everemo:     And ek fulofte tyme also,     Whan so is that I se and hiere     Or hevy word or hevy chiere     Of my lady, I grucche anon;     Bot wordes dar I speke non,     Wherof sche myhte be desplesed,     Bot in myn herte I am desesed:     With many a Murmur, god it wot,     Thus drinke I in myn oghne swot,         1390     And thogh I make no semblant,     Min herte is al desobeissant;     And in this wise I me confesse     Of that ye clepe unbuxomnesse.     Now telleth what youre conseil is.     Mi Sone, and I thee rede this,     What so befalle of other weie,     That thou to loves heste obeie     Als ferr as thou it myht suffise:     For ofte sithe in such a wise        1400     Obedience in love availeth,     Wher al a mannes strengthe faileth;     Wherof, if that the list to wite     In a Cronique as it is write,     A gret ensample thou myht fynde,     Which now is come to my mynde.     Ther was whilom be daies olde     A worthi knyht, and as men tolde     He was Nevoeu to themperour     And of his Court a Courteour:        1410     Wifles he was, Florent he hihte,     He was a man that mochel myhte,     Of armes he was desirous,     Chivalerous and amorous,     And for the fame of worldes speche,     Strange aventures forto seche,     He rod the Marches al aboute.     And fell a time, as he was oute,     Fortune, which may every thred     Tobreke and knette of mannes sped,     1420     Schop, as this knyht rod in a pas,     That he be strengthe take was,     And to a Castell thei him ladde,     Wher that he fewe frendes hadde:     For so it fell that ilke stounde     That he hath with a dedly wounde     Feihtende his oghne hondes slain     Branchus, which to the Capitain     Was Sone and Heir, wherof ben wrothe     The fader and the moder bothe.     1430     That knyht Branchus was of his hond     The worthieste of al his lond,     And fain thei wolden do vengance     Upon Florent, bot remembrance     That thei toke of his worthinesse     Of knyhthod and of gentilesse,     And how he stod of cousinage     To themperour, made hem assuage,     And dorsten noght slen him for fere:     In gret desputeisoun thei were     1440     Among hemself, what was the beste.     Ther was a lady, the slyheste     Of alle that men knewe tho,     So old sche myhte unethes go,     And was grantdame unto the dede:     And sche with that began to rede,     And seide how sche wol bringe him inne,     That sche schal him to dethe winne     Al only of his oghne grant,     Thurgh strengthe of verray covenant        1450     Withoute blame of eny wiht.     Anon sche sende for this kniht,     And of hire Sone sche alleide     The deth, and thus to him sche seide:     "Florent, how so thou be to wyte     Of Branchus deth, men schal respite     As now to take vengement,     Be so thou stonde in juggement     Upon certein condicioun,     That thou unto a questioun        1460     Which I schal axe schalt ansuere;     And over this thou schalt ek swere,     That if thou of the sothe faile,     Ther schal non other thing availe,     That thou ne schalt thi deth receive.     And for men schal thee noght deceive,     That thou therof myht ben avised,     Thou schalt have day and tyme assised     And leve saufly forto wende,     Be so that at thi daies ende         1470     Thou come ayein with thin avys.     This knyht, which worthi was and wys,     This lady preith that he may wite,     And have it under Seales write,     What questioun it scholde be     For which he schal in that degree     Stonde of his lif in jeupartie.     With that sche feigneth compaignie,     And seith: "Florent, on love it hongeth     Al that to myn axinge longeth:     1480     What alle wommen most desire     This wole I axe, and in thempire     Wher as thou hast most knowlechinge     Tak conseil upon this axinge."     Florent this thing hath undertake,     The day was set, the time take,     Under his seal he wrot his oth,     In such a wise and forth he goth     Hom to his Emes court ayein;     To whom his aventure plein        1490     He tolde, of that him is befalle.     And upon that thei weren alle     The wiseste of the lond asent,     Bot natheles of on assent     Thei myhte noght acorde plat,     On seide this, an othre that.     After the disposicioun     Of naturel complexioun     To som womman it is plesance,     That to an other is grevance;        1500     Bot such a thing in special,     Which to hem alle in general     Is most plesant, and most desired     Above alle othre and most conspired,     Such o thing conne thei noght finde     Be Constellacion ne kinde:     And thus Florent withoute cure     Mot stonde upon his aventure,     And is al schape unto the lere,     As in defalte of his answere.        1510     This knyht hath levere forto dye     Than breke his trowthe and forto lye     In place ther as he was swore,     And schapth him gon ayein therfore.     Whan time cam he tok his leve,     That lengere wolde he noght beleve,     And preith his Em he be noght wroth,     For that is a point of his oth,     He seith, that noman schal him wreke,     Thogh afterward men hiere speke         1520     That he par aventure deie.     And thus he wente forth his weie     Alone as knyht aventurous,     And in his thoght was curious     To wite what was best to do:     And as he rod al one so,     And cam nyh ther he wolde be,     In a forest under a tre     He syh wher sat a creature,     A lothly wommannysch figure,     1530     That forto speke of fleisch and bon     So foul yit syh he nevere non.     This knyht behield hir redely,     And as he wolde have passed by,     Sche cleped him and bad abide;     And he his horse heved aside     Tho torneth, and to hire he rod,     And there he hoveth and abod,     To wite what sche wolde mene.     And sche began him to bemene,         1540     And seide: "Florent be thi name,     Thou hast on honde such a game,     That bot thou be the betre avised,     Thi deth is schapen and devised,     That al the world ne mai the save,     Bot if that thou my conseil have."     Florent, whan he this tale herde,     Unto this olde wyht answerde     And of hir conseil he hir preide.     And sche ayein to him thus seide:     1550     "Florent, if I for the so schape,     That thou thurgh me thi deth ascape     And take worschipe of thi dede,     What schal I have to my mede?"     "What thing," quod he, "that thou wolt axe."     "I bidde nevere a betre taxe,"     Quod sche, "bot ferst, er thou be sped,     Thou schalt me leve such a wedd,     That I wol have thi trowthe in honde     That thou schalt be myn housebonde."     1560     "Nay," seith Florent, "that may noght be."     "Ryd thanne forth thi wey," quod sche,     "And if thou go withoute red,     Thou schalt be sekerliche ded."     Florent behihte hire good ynowh     Of lond, of rente, of park, of plowh,     Bot al that compteth sche at noght.     Tho fell this knyht in mochel thoght,     Now goth he forth, now comth ayein,     He wot noght what is best to sein,     1570     And thoghte, as he rod to and fro,     That chese he mot on of the tuo,     Or forto take hire to his wif     Or elles forto lese his lif.     And thanne he caste his avantage,     That sche was of so gret an age,     That sche mai live bot a while,     And thoghte put hire in an Ile,     Wher that noman hire scholde knowe,     Til sche with deth were overthrowe.        1580     And thus this yonge lusti knyht     Unto this olde lothly wiht     Tho seide: "If that non other chance     Mai make my deliverance,     Bot only thilke same speche     Which, as thou seist, thou schalt me teche,     Have hier myn hond, I schal thee wedde."     And thus his trowthe he leith to wedde.     With that sche frounceth up the browe:     "This covenant I wol allowe,"        1590     Sche seith: "if eny other thing     Bot that thou hast of my techyng     Fro deth thi body mai respite,     I woll thee of thi trowthe acquite,     And elles be non other weie.     Now herkne me what I schal seie.     Whan thou art come into the place,     Wher now thei maken gret manace     And upon thi comynge abyde,     Thei wole anon the same tide         1600     Oppose thee of thin answere.     I wot thou wolt nothing forbere     Of that thou wenest be thi beste,     And if thou myht so finde reste,     Wel is, for thanne is ther nomore.     And elles this schal be my lore,     That thou schalt seie, upon this Molde     That alle wommen lievest wolde     Be soverein of mannes love:     For what womman is so above,     1610     Sche hath, as who seith, al hire wille;     And elles may sche noght fulfille     What thing hir were lievest have.     With this answere thou schalt save     Thiself, and other wise noght.     And whan thou hast thin ende wroght,     Com hier ayein, thou schalt me finde,     And let nothing out of thi minde."     He goth him forth with hevy chiere,     As he that not in what manere        1620     He mai this worldes joie atteigne:     For if he deie, he hath a peine,     And if he live, he mot him binde     To such on which of alle kinde     Of wommen is thunsemlieste:     Thus wot he noght what is the beste:     Bot be him lief or be him loth,     Unto the Castell forth he goth     His full answere forto yive,     Or forto deie or forto live.         1630     Forth with his conseil cam the lord,     The thinges stoden of record,     He sende up for the lady sone,     And forth sche cam, that olde Mone.     In presence of the remenant     The strengthe of al the covenant     Tho was reherced openly,     And to Florent sche bad forthi     That he schal tellen his avis,     As he that woot what is the pris.     1640     Florent seith al that evere he couthe,     Bot such word cam ther non to mowthe,     That he for yifte or for beheste     Mihte eny wise his deth areste.     And thus he tarieth longe and late,     Til that this lady bad algate     That he schal for the dom final     Yive his answere in special     Of that sche hadde him ferst opposed:     And thanne he hath trewly supposed         1650     That he him may of nothing yelpe,     Bot if so be tho wordes helpe,     Whiche as the womman hath him tawht;     Wherof he hath an hope cawht     That he schal ben excused so,     And tolde out plein his wille tho.     And whan that this Matrone herde     The manere how this knyht ansuerde,     Sche seide: "Ha treson, wo thee be,     That hast thus told the privite,         1660     Which alle wommen most desire!     I wolde that thou were afire."     Bot natheles in such a plit     Florent of his answere is quit:     And tho began his sorwe newe,     For he mot gon, or ben untrewe,     To hire which his trowthe hadde.     Bot he, which alle schame dradde,     Goth forth in stede of his penance,     And takth the fortune of his chance,        1670     As he that was with trowthe affaited.     This olde wyht him hath awaited     In place wher as he hire lefte:     Florent his wofull heved uplefte     And syh this vecke wher sche sat,     Which was the lothlieste what     That evere man caste on his yhe:     Hire Nase bass, hire browes hyhe,     Hire yhen smale and depe set,     Hire chekes ben with teres wet,     1680     And rivelen as an emty skyn     Hangende doun unto the chin,     Hire Lippes schrunken ben for age,     Ther was no grace in the visage,     Hir front was nargh, hir lockes hore,     Sche loketh forth as doth a More,     Hire Necke is schort, hir schuldres courbe,     That myhte a mannes lust destourbe,     Hire body gret and nothing smal,     And schortly to descrive hire al,        1690     Sche hath no lith withoute a lak;     Bot lich unto the wollesak     Sche proferth hire unto this knyht,     And bad him, as he hath behyht,     So as sche hath ben his warant,     That he hire holde covenant,     And be the bridel sche him seseth.     Bot godd wot how that sche him pleseth     Of suche wordes as sche spekth:     Him thenkth welnyh his herte brekth        1700     For sorwe that he may noght fle,     Bot if he wolde untrewe be.     Loke, how a sek man for his hele     Takth baldemoine with Canele,     And with the Mirre takth the Sucre,     Ryht upon such a maner lucre     Stant Florent, as in this diete:     He drinkth the bitre with the swete,     He medleth sorwe with likynge,     And liveth, as who seith, deyinge;         1710     His youthe schal be cast aweie     Upon such on which as the weie     Is old and lothly overal.     Bot nede he mot that nede schal:     He wolde algate his trowthe holde,     As every knyht therto is holde,     What happ so evere him is befalle:     Thogh sche be the fouleste of alle,     Yet to thonour of wommanhiede     Him thoghte he scholde taken hiede;        1720     So that for pure gentilesse,     As he hire couthe best adresce,     In ragges, as sche was totore,     He set hire on his hors tofore     And forth he takth his weie softe;     No wonder thogh he siketh ofte.     Bot as an oule fleth be nyhte     Out of alle othre briddes syhte,     Riht so this knyht on daies brode     In clos him hield, and schop his rode         1730     On nyhtes time, til the tyde     That he cam there he wolde abide;     And prively withoute noise     He bringth this foule grete Coise     To his Castell in such a wise     That noman myhte hire schappe avise,     Til sche into the chambre cam:     Wher he his prive conseil nam     Of suche men as he most troste,     And tolde hem that he nedes moste     1740     This beste wedde to his wif,     For elles hadde he lost his lif.     The prive wommen were asent,     That scholden ben of his assent:     Hire ragges thei anon of drawe,     And, as it was that time lawe,     She hadde bath, sche hadde reste,     And was arraied to the beste.     Bot with no craft of combes brode     Thei myhte hire hore lockes schode,         1750     And sche ne wolde noght be schore     For no conseil, and thei therfore,     With such atyr as tho was used,     Ordeinen that it was excused,     And hid so crafteliche aboute,     That noman myhte sen hem oute.     Bot when sche was fulliche arraied     And hire atyr was al assaied,     Tho was sche foulere on to se:     Bot yit it may non other be,     1760     Thei were wedded in the nyht;     So wo begon was nevere knyht     As he was thanne of mariage.     And sche began to pleie and rage,     As who seith, I am wel ynowh;     Bot he therof nothing ne lowh,     For sche tok thanne chiere on honde     And clepeth him hire housebonde,     And seith, "My lord, go we to bedde,     For I to that entente wedde,    1770     That thou schalt be my worldes blisse:"     And profreth him with that to kisse,     As sche a lusti Lady were.     His body myhte wel be there,     Bot as of thoght and of memoire     His herte was in purgatoire.     Bot yit for strengthe of matrimoine     He myhte make non essoine,     That he ne mot algates plie     To gon to bedde of compaignie:    1780     And whan thei were abedde naked,     Withoute slep he was awaked;     He torneth on that other side,     For that he wolde hise yhen hyde     Fro lokynge on that foule wyht.     The chambre was al full of lyht,     The courtins were of cendal thinne,     This newe bryd which lay withinne,     Thogh it be noght with his acord,     In armes sche beclipte hire lord,     1790     And preide, as he was torned fro,     He wolde him torne ayeinward tho;     "For now," sche seith, "we ben bothe on."     And he lay stille as eny ston,     Bot evere in on sche spak and preide,     And bad him thenke on that he seide,     Whan that he tok hire be the hond.     He herde and understod the bond,     How he was set to his penance,     And as it were a man in trance    1800     He torneth him al sodeinly,     And syh a lady lay him by     Of eyhtetiene wynter age,     Which was the faireste of visage     That evere in al this world he syh:     And as he wolde have take hire nyh,     Sche put hire hand and be his leve     Besoghte him that he wolde leve,     And seith that forto wynne or lese     He mot on of tuo thinges chese,    1810     Wher he wol have hire such on nyht,     Or elles upon daies lyht,     For he schal noght have bothe tuo.     And he began to sorwe tho,     In many a wise and caste his thoght,     Bot for al that yit cowthe he noght     Devise himself which was the beste.     And sche, that wolde his hertes reste,     Preith that he scholde chese algate,     Til ate laste longe and late        1820     He seide: "O ye, my lyves hele,     Sey what you list in my querele,     I not what ansuere I schal yive:     Bot evere whil that I may live,     I wol that ye be my maistresse,     For I can noght miselve gesse     Which is the beste unto my chois.     Thus grante I yow myn hole vois,     Ches for ous bothen, I you preie;     And what as evere that ye seie,    1830     Riht as ye wole so wol I."     "Mi lord," sche seide, " grant merci,     For of this word that ye now sein,     That ye have mad me soverein,     Mi destine is overpassed,     That nevere hierafter schal be lassed     Mi beaute, which that I now have,     Til I be take into my grave;     Bot nyht and day as I am now     I schal alwey be such to yow.     1840     The kinges dowhter of Cizile     I am, and fell bot siththe awhile,     As I was with my fader late,     That my Stepmoder for an hate,     Which toward me sche hath begonne,     Forschop me, til I hadde wonne     The love and sovereinete     Of what knyht that in his degre     Alle othre passeth of good name:     And, as men sein, ye ben the same,    1850     The dede proeveth it is so;     Thus am I youres evermo."     Tho was plesance and joye ynowh,     Echon with other pleide and lowh;     Thei live longe and wel thei ferde,     And clerkes that this chance herde     Thei writen it in evidence,     To teche how that obedience     Mai wel fortune a man to love     And sette him in his lust above,        1860     As it befell unto this knyht.     Forthi, my Sone, if thou do ryht,     Thou schalt unto thi love obeie,     And folwe hir will be alle weie.     Min holy fader, so I wile:     For ye have told me such a skile     Of this ensample now tofore,     That I schal evermo therfore     Hierafterward myn observance     To love and to his obeissance     1870     The betre kepe: and over this     Of pride if ther oght elles is,     Wherof that I me schryve schal,     What thing it is in special,     Mi fader, axeth, I you preie.     Now lest, my Sone, and I schal seie:     For yit ther is Surquiderie,     Which stant with Pride of compaignie;     Wherof that thou schalt hiere anon,     To knowe if thou have gult or non    1880     Upon the forme as thou schalt hiere:     Now understond wel the matiere.     Surquiderie is thilke vice     Of Pride, which the thridde office     Hath in his Court, and wol noght knowe     The trowthe til it overthrowe.     Upon his fortune and his grace     Comth "Hadde I wist" fulofte aplace;     For he doth al his thing be gesse,     And voideth alle sikernesse.        1890     Non other conseil good him siemeth     Bot such as he himselve diemeth;     For in such wise as he compasseth,     His wit al one alle othre passeth;     And is with pride so thurghsoght,     That he alle othre set at noght,     And weneth of himselven so,     That such as he ther be nomo,     So fair, so semly, ne so wis;     And thus he wolde bere a pris     1900     Above alle othre, and noght forthi     He seith noght ones "grant mercy"     To godd, which alle grace sendeth,     So that his wittes he despendeth     Upon himself, as thogh ther were     No godd which myhte availe there:     Bot al upon his oghne witt     He stant, til he falle in the pitt     So ferr that he mai noght arise.     And riht thus in the same wise    1910     This vice upon the cause of love     So proudly set the herte above,     And doth him pleinly forto wene     That he to loven eny qwene     Hath worthinesse and sufficance;     And so withoute pourveance     Fulofte he heweth up so hihe,     That chippes fallen in his yhe;     And ek ful ofte he weneth this,     Ther as he noght beloved is,    1920     To be beloved alther best.     Now, Sone, tell what so thee lest     Of this that I have told thee hier.     Ha, fader, be noght in a wer:     I trowe ther be noman lesse,     Of eny maner worthinesse,     That halt him lasse worth thanne I     To be beloved; and noght forthi     I seie in excusinge of me,     To alle men that love is fre.     1930     And certes that mai noman werne;     For love is of himself so derne,     It luteth in a mannes herte:     Bot that ne schal me noght asterte,     To wene forto be worthi     To loven, bot in hir mercy.     Bot, Sire, of that ye wolden mene,     That I scholde otherwise wene     To be beloved thanne I was,     I am beknowe as in that cas.        1940     Mi goode Sone, tell me how.     Now lest, and I wol telle yow,     Mi goode fader, how it is.     Fulofte it hath befalle or this     Thurgh hope that was noght certein,     Mi wenynge hath be set in vein     To triste in thing that halp me noght,     Bot onliche of myn oughne thoght.     For as it semeth that a belle     Lik to the wordes that men telle     1950     Answerth, riht so ne mor ne lesse,     To yow, my fader, I confesse,     Such will my wit hath overset,     That what so hope me behet,     Ful many a time I wene it soth,     Bot finali no spied it doth.     Thus may I tellen, as I can,     Wenyng beguileth many a man;     So hath it me, riht wel I wot:     For if a man wole in a Bot     1960     Which is withoute botme rowe,     He moste nedes overthrowe.     Riht so wenyng hath ferd be me:     For whanne I wende next have be,     As I be my wenynge caste,     Thanne was I furthest ate laste,     And as a foll my bowe unbende,     Whan al was failed that I wende.     Forthi, my fader, as of this,     That my wenynge hath gon amis     1970     Touchende to Surquiderie,     Yif me my penance er I die.     Bot if ye wolde in eny forme     Of this matiere a tale enforme,     Which were ayein this vice set,     I scholde fare wel the bet.     Mi Sone, in alle maner wise     Surquiderie is to despise,     Wherof I finde write thus.     The proude knyht Capane
s     1980     He was of such Surquiderie,     That he thurgh his chivalerie     Upon himself so mochel triste,     That to the goddes him ne liste     In no querele to beseche,     Bot seide it was an ydel speche,     Which caused was of pure drede,     For lack of herte and for no nede.     And upon such presumpcioun     He hield this proude opinioun,     1990     Til ate laste upon a dai,     Aboute Thebes wher he lay,     Whan it of Siege was belein,     This knyht, as the Croniqes sein,     In alle mennes sihte there,     Whan he was proudest in his gere,     And thoghte how nothing myhte him dere,     Ful armed with his schield and spere     As he the Cite wolde assaile,     Godd tok himselve the bataille    2000     Ayein his Pride, and fro the sky     A firy thonder sodeinly     He sende, and him to pouldre smot.     And thus the Pride which was hot,     Whan he most in his strengthe wende,     Was brent and lost withouten ende:     So that it proeveth wel therfore,     The strengthe of man is sone lore,     Bot if that he it wel governe.     And over this a man mai lerne     2010     That ek fulofte time it grieveth,     Whan that a man himself believeth,     As thogh it scholde him wel beseme     That he alle othre men can deme,     And hath foryete his oghne vice.     A tale of hem that ben so nyce,     And feigne hemself to be so wise,     I schal thee telle in such a wise,     Wherof thou schalt ensample take     That thou no such thing undertake.        2020     I finde upon Surquiderie,     How that whilom of Hungarie     Be olde daies was a King     Wys and honeste in alle thing:     And so befell upon a dai,     And that was in the Monthe of Maii,     As thilke time it was usance,     This kyng with noble pourveance     Hath for himself his Charr araied,     Wher inne he wolde ride amaied    2030     Out of the Cite forto pleie,     With lordes and with gret nobleie     Of lusti folk that were yonge:     Wher some pleide and some songe,     And some gon and some ryde,     And some prike here hors aside     And bridlen hem now in now oute.     The kyng his yhe caste aboute,     Til he was ate laste war     And syh comende ayein his char    2040     Two pilegrins of so gret age,     That lich unto a dreie ymage     Thei weren pale and fade hewed,     And as a bussh which is besnewed,     Here berdes weren hore and whyte;     Ther was of kinde bot a lite,     That thei ne semen fulli dede.     Thei comen to the kyng and bede     Som of his good par charite;     And he with gret humilite        2050     Out of his Char to grounde lepte,     And hem in bothe hise armes kepte     And keste hem bothe fot and hond     Before the lordes of his lond,     And yaf hem of his good therto:     And whanne he hath this dede do,     He goth into his char ayein.     Tho was Murmur, tho was desdeign,     Tho was compleignte on every side,     Thei seiden of here oghne Pride        2060     Eche until othre: "What is this?     Oure king hath do this thing amis,     So to abesse his realte     That every man it myhte se,     And humbled him in such a wise     To hem that were of non emprise."     Thus was it spoken to and fro     Of hem that were with him tho     Al prively behinde his bak;     Bot to himselven noman spak.        2070     The kinges brother in presence     Was thilke time, and gret offence     He tok therof, and was the same     Above alle othre which most blame     Upon his liege lord hath leid,     And hath unto the lordes seid,     Anon as he mai time finde,     Ther schal nothing be left behinde,     That he wol speke unto the king.     Now lest what fell upon this thing.     2080     The day was merie and fair ynowh,     Echon with othre pleide and lowh,     And fellen into tales newe,     How that the freisshe floures grewe,     And how the grene leves spronge,     And how that love among the yonge     Began the hertes thanne awake,     And every bridd hath chose hire make:     And thus the Maies day to thende     Thei lede, and hom ayein thei wende.    2090     The king was noght so sone come,     That whanne he hadde his chambre nome,     His brother ne was redi there,     And broghte a tale unto his Ere     Of that he dede such a schame     In hindringe of his oghne name,     Whan he himself so wolde drecche,     That to so vil a povere wrecche     Him deigneth schewe such simplesce     Ayein thastat of his noblesce:    2100     And seith he schal it nomor use,     And that he mot himself excuse     Toward hise lordes everychon.     The king stod stille as eny ston,     And to his tale an Ere he leide,     And thoghte more than he seide:     Bot natheles to that he herde     Wel cortaisly the king answerde,     And tolde it scholde be amended.     And thus whan that her tale is ended,    2110     Al redy was the bord and cloth,     The king unto his Souper goth     Among the lordes to the halle;     And whan thei hadden souped alle,     Thei token leve and forth thei go.     The king bethoghte himselve tho     How he his brother mai chastie,     That he thurgh his Surquiderie     Tok upon honde to despreise     Humilite, which is to preise,        2120     And therupon yaf such conseil     Toward his king that was noght heil;     Wherof to be the betre lered,     He thenkth to maken him afered.     It fell so that in thilke dawe     Ther was ordeined be the lawe     A trompe with a sterne breth,     Which cleped was the Trompe of deth:     And in the Court wher the king was     A certein man this Trompe of bras    2130     Hath in kepinge, and therof serveth,     That whan a lord his deth deserveth,     He schal this dredful trompe blowe     Tofore his gate, and make it knowe     How that the jugement is yove     Of deth, which schal noght be foryove.     The king, whan it was nyht, anon     This man asente and bad him gon     To trompen at his brother gate;     And he, which mot so don algate,        2140     Goth forth and doth the kynges heste.     This lord, which herde of this tempeste     That he tofore his gate blew,     Tho wiste he be the lawe and knew     That he was sikerliche ded:     And as of help he wot no red,     Bot sende for hise frendes alle     And tolde hem how it is befalle.     And thei him axe cause why;     Bot he the sothe noght forthi     2150     Ne wiste, and ther was sorwe tho:     For it stod thilke tyme so,     This trompe was of such sentence,     That therayein no resistence     Thei couthe ordeine be no weie,     That he ne mot algate deie,     Bot if so that he may pourchace     To gete his liege lordes grace.     Here wittes therupon thei caste,     And ben apointed ate laste.    2160     This lord a worthi ladi hadde     Unto his wif, which also dradde     Hire lordes deth, and children five     Betwen hem two thei hadde alyve,     That weren yonge and tendre of age,     And of stature and of visage     Riht faire and lusty on to se.     Tho casten thei that he and sche     Forth with here children on the morwe,     As thei that were full of sorwe,        2170     Al naked bot of smok and scherte,     To tendre with the kynges herte,     His grace scholden go to seche     And pardoun of the deth beseche.     Thus passen thei that wofull nyht,     And erly, whan thei sihe it lyht,     Thei gon hem forth in such a wise     As thou tofore hast herd devise,     Al naked bot here schortes one.     Thei wepte and made mochel mone,        2180     Here Her hangende aboute here Eres;     With sobbinge and with sory teres     This lord goth thanne an humble pas,     That whilom proud and noble was;     Wherof the Cite sore afflyhte,     Of hem that sihen thilke syhte:     And natheless al openly     With such wepinge and with such cri     Forth with hise children and his wif     He goth to preie for his lif.     2190     Unto the court whan thei be come,     And men therinne have hiede nome,     Ther was no wiht, if he hem syhe,     Fro water mihte kepe his yhe     For sorwe which thei maden tho.     The king supposeth of this wo,     And feigneth as he noght ne wiste;     Bot natheles at his upriste     Men tolden him how that it ferde:     And whan that he this wonder herde,        2200     In haste he goth into the halle,     And alle at ones doun thei falle,     If eny pite may be founde.     The king, which seth hem go to grounde,     Hath axed hem what is the fere,     Why thei be so despuiled there.     His brother seide: "Ha lord, mercy!     I wot non other cause why,     Bot only that this nyht ful late     The trompe of deth was at my gate    2210     In tokne that I scholde deie;     Thus be we come forto preie     That ye mi worldes deth respite."     "Ha fol, how thou art forto wyte,"     The king unto his brother seith,     "That thou art of so litel feith,     That only for a trompes soun     Hast gon despuiled thurgh the toun,     Thou and thi wif in such manere     Forth with thi children that ben here,        2220     In sihte of alle men aboute,     For that thou seist thou art in doute     Of deth, which stant under the lawe     Of man, and man it mai withdrawe,     So that it mai par chance faile.     Now schalt thou noght forthi mervaile     That I doun fro my Charr alihte,     Whanne I behield tofore my sihte     In hem that were of so grete age     Min oghne deth thurgh here ymage,     2230     Which god hath set be lawe of kynde,     Wherof I mai no bote finde:     For wel I wot, such as thei be,     Riht such am I in my degree,     Of fleissh and blod, and so schal deie.     And thus, thogh I that lawe obeie     Of which the kinges ben put under,     It oghte ben wel lasse wonder     Than thou, which art withoute nede     For lawe of londe in such a drede,    2240     Which for tacompte is bot a jape,     As thing which thou miht overscape.     Forthi, mi brother, after this     I rede, sithen that so is     That thou canst drede a man so sore,     Dred god with al thin herte more:     For al schal deie and al schal passe,     Als wel a Leoun as an asse,     Als wel a beggere as a lord,     Towardes deth in on acord        2250     Thei schullen stonde." And in this wise     The king hath with hise wordes wise     His brother tawht and al foryive.     Forthi, mi Sone, if thou wolt live     In vertu, thou most vice eschuie,     And with low herte humblesce suie,     So that thou be noght surquidous.     Mi fader, I am amorous,     Wherof I wolde you beseche     That ye me som ensample teche,     2260     Which mihte in loves cause stonde.     Mi Sone, thou schalt understonde,     In love and othre thinges alle     If that Surquiderie falle,     It may to him noght wel betide     Which useth thilke vice of Pride,     Which torneth wisdom to wenynge     And Sothfastnesse into lesynge     Thurgh fol ymaginacion.     And for thin enformacion,    2270     That thou this vice as I the rede     Eschuie schalt, a tale I rede,     Which fell whilom be daies olde,     So as the clerk Ovide tolde.     Ther was whilom a lordes Sone,     Which of his Pride a nyce wone     Hath cawht, that worthi to his liche,     To sechen al the worldes riche,     Ther was no womman forto love.     So hihe he sette himselve above        2280     Of stature and of beaute bothe,     That him thoghte alle wommen lothe:     So was ther no comparisoun     As toward his condicioun.     This yonge lord Narcizus hihte:     No strengthe of love bowe mihte     His herte, which is unaffiled;     Bot ate laste he was beguiled:     For of the goddes pourveance     It fell him on a dai par chance,        2290     That he in all his proude fare     Unto the forest gan to fare,     Amonges othre that ther were     To hunte and to desporte him there.     And whanne he cam into the place     Wher that he wolde make his chace,     The houndes weren in a throwe     Uncoupled and the hornes blowe:     The grete hert anon was founde,     Which swifte feet sette upon grounde,    2300     And he with spore in horse side     Him hasteth faste forto ride,     Til alle men be left behinde.     And as he rod, under a linde     Beside a roche, as I thee telle,     He syh wher sprong a lusty welle:     The day was wonder hot withalle,     And such a thurst was on him falle,     That he moste owther deie or drinke;     And doun he lihte and be the brinke     2310     He teide his Hors unto a braunche,     And leide him lowe forto staunche     His thurst: and as he caste his lok     Into the welle and hiede tok,     He sih the like of his visage,     And wende ther were an ymage     Of such a Nimphe as tho was faie,     Wherof that love his herte assaie     Began, as it was after sene,     Of his sotie and made him wene    2320     It were a womman that he syh.     The more he cam the welle nyh,     The nerr cam sche to him ayein;     So wiste he nevere what to sein;     For whanne he wepte, he sih hire wepe,     And whanne he cride, he tok good kepe,     The same word sche cride also:     And thus began the newe wo,     That whilom was to him so strange;     Tho made him love an hard eschange,        2330     To sette his herte and to beginne     Thing which he mihte nevere winne.     And evere among he gan to loute,     And preith that sche to him come oute;     And otherwhile he goth a ferr,     And otherwhile he draweth nerr,     And evere he fond hire in o place.     He wepth, he crith, he axeth grace,     There as he mihte gete non;     So that ayein a Roche of Ston,     2340     As he that knew non other red,     He smot himself til he was ded.     Wherof the Nimphes of the welles,     And othre that ther weren elles     Unto the wodes belongende,     The body, which was ded ligende,     For pure pite that thei have     Under the grene thei begrave.     And thanne out of his sepulture     Ther sprong anon par aventure     2350     Of floures such a wonder syhte,     That men ensample take myhte     Upon the dedes whiche he dede,     As tho was sene in thilke stede;     For in the wynter freysshe and faire     The floures ben, which is contraire     To kynde, and so was the folie     Which fell of his Surquiderie.     Thus he, which love hadde in desdeign,     Worste of all othre was besein,    2360     And as he sette his pris most hyhe,     He was lest worth in loves yhe     And most bejaped in his wit:     Wherof the remembrance is yit,     So that thou myht ensample take,     And ek alle othre for his sake.     Mi fader, as touchende of me,     This vice I thenke forto fle,     Which of his wenynge overtroweth;     And nameliche of thing which groweth    2370     In loves cause or wel or wo     Yit pryded I me nevere so.     Bot wolde god that grace sende,     That toward me my lady wende     As I towardes hire wene!     Mi love scholde so be sene,     Ther scholde go no pride a place.     Bot I am ferr fro thilke grace,     As forto speke of tyme now;     So mot I soffre, and preie yow    2380     That ye wole axe on other side     If ther be eny point of Pride,     Wherof it nedeth to be schrive.     Mi Sone, godd it thee foryive,     If thou have eny thing misdo     Touchende of this, bot overmo     Ther is an other yit of Pride,     Which nevere cowthe hise wordes hide,     That he ne wole himself avaunte;     Ther mai nothing his tunge daunte,    2390     That he ne clappeth as a Belle:     Wherof if thou wolt that I telle,     It is behovely forto hiere,     So that thou myht thi tunge stiere,     Toward the world and stonde in grace,     Which lacketh ofte in many place     To him that can noght sitte stille,     Which elles scholde have al his wille.     The vice cleped Avantance     With Pride hath take his aqueintance,    2400     So that his oghne pris he lasseth,     When he such mesure overpasseth     That he his oghne Herald is.     That ferst was wel is thanne mis,     That was thankworth is thanne blame,     And thus the worschipe of his name     Thurgh pride of his avantarie     He torneth into vilenie.     I rede how that this proude vice     Hath thilke wynd in his office,    2410     Which thurgh the blastes that he bloweth     The mannes fame he overthroweth     Of vertu, which scholde elles springe     Into the worldes knowlechinge;     Bot he fordoth it alto sore.     And riht of such a maner lore     Ther ben lovers: forthi if thow     Art on of hem, tell and sei how.     Whan thou hast taken eny thing     Of loves yifte, or Nouche or ring,    2420     Or tok upon thee for the cold     Som goodly word that thee was told,     Or frendly chiere or tokne or lettre,     Wherof thin herte was the bettre,     Or that sche sende the grietinge,     Hast thou for Pride of thi likinge     Mad thin avant wher as the liste?     I wolde, fader, that ye wiste,     Mi conscience lith noght hiere:     Yit hadde I nevere such matiere,        2430     Wherof min herte myhte amende,     Noght of so mochel that sche sende     Be mowthe and seide, "Griet him wel:"     And thus for that ther is no diel     Wherof to make myn avant,     It is to reson acordant     That I mai nevere, bot I lye,     Of love make avanterie.     I wot noght what I scholde have do,     If that I hadde encheson so,    2440     As ye have seid hier manyon;     Bot I fond cause nevere non:     Bot daunger, which welnyh me slowh,     Therof I cowthe telle ynowh,     And of non other Avantance:     Thus nedeth me no repentance.     Now axeth furthere of my lif,     For hierof am I noght gultif.     Mi Sone, I am wel paid withal;     For wite it wel in special     2450     That love of his verrai justice     Above alle othre ayein this vice     At alle times most debateth,     With al his herte and most it hateth.     And ek in alle maner wise     Avantarie is to despise,     As be ensample thou myht wite,     Which I finde in the bokes write.     Of hem that we Lombars now calle     Albinus was the ferste of alle    2460     Which bar corone of Lombardie,     And was of gret chivalerie     In werre ayein diverse kinges.     So fell amonges othre thinges,     That he that time a werre hadde     With Gurmond, which the Geptes ladde,     And was a myhti kyng also:     Bot natheles it fell him so,     Albinus slowh him in the feld,     Ther halp him nowther swerd ne scheld,        2470     That he ne smot his hed of thanne,     Wherof he tok awey the Panne,     Of which he seide he wolde make     A Cuppe for Gurmoundes sake,     To kepe and drawe into memoire     Of his bataille the victoire.     And thus whan he the feld hath wonne,     The lond anon was overronne     And sesed in his oghne hond,     Wher he Gurmondes dowhter fond,    2480     Which Maide Rosemounde hihte,     And was in every mannes sihte     A fair, a freissh, a lusti on.     His herte fell to hire anon,     And such a love on hire he caste,     That he hire weddeth ate laste;     And after that long time in reste     With hire he duelte, and to the beste     Thei love ech other wonder wel.     Bot sche which kepth the blinde whel,    2490     Venus, whan thei be most above,     In al the hoteste of here love,     Hire whiel sche torneth, and thei felle     In the manere as I schal telle.     This king, which stod in al his welthe     Of pes, of worschipe and of helthe,     And felte him on no side grieved,     As he that hath his world achieved,     Tho thoghte he wolde a feste make;     And that was for his wyves sake,        2500     That sche the lordes ate feste,     That were obeissant to his heste,     Mai knowe: and so forth therupon     He let ordeine, and sende anon     Be lettres and be messagiers,     And warnede alle hise officiers     That every thing be wel arraied:     The grete Stiedes were assaied     For joustinge and for tornement,     And many a perled garnement    2510     Embroudred was ayein the dai.     The lordes in here beste arrai     Be comen ate time set,     On jousteth wel, an other bet,     And otherwhile thei torneie,     And thus thei casten care aweie     And token lustes upon honde.     And after, thou schalt understonde,     To mete into the kinges halle     Thei come, as thei be beden alle:    2520     And whan thei were set and served,     Thanne after, as it was deserved,     To hem that worthi knyhtes were,     So as thei seten hiere and there,     The pris was yove and spoken oute     Among the heraldz al aboute.     And thus benethe and ek above     Al was of armes and of love,     Wherof abouten ate bordes     Men hadde manye sondri wordes,     2530     That of the merthe which thei made     The king himself began to glade     Withinne his herte and tok a pride,     And sih the Cuppe stonde aside,     Which mad was of Gurmoundes hed,     As ye have herd, whan he was ded,     And was with gold and riche Stones     Beset and bounde for the nones,     And stod upon a fot on heihte     Of burned gold, and with gret sleihte        2540     Of werkmanschipe it was begrave     Of such werk as it scholde have,     And was policed ek so clene     That no signe of the Skulle is sene,     Bot as it were a Gripes Ey.     The king bad bere his Cuppe awey,     Which stod tofore him on the bord,     And fette thilke. Upon his word     This Skulle is fet and wyn therinne,     Wherof he bad his wif beginne:    2550     "Drink with thi fader, Dame," he seide.     And sche to his biddinge obeide,     And tok the Skulle, and what hire liste     Sche drank, as sche which nothing wiste     What Cuppe it was: and thanne al oute     The kyng in audience aboute     Hath told it was hire fader Skulle,     So that the lordes knowe schulle     Of his bataille a soth witnesse,     And made avant thurgh what prouesse     2560     He hath his wyves love wonne,     Which of the Skulle hath so begonne.     Tho was ther mochel Pride alofte,     Thei speken alle, and sche was softe,     Thenkende on thilke unkynde Pride,     Of that hire lord so nyh hire side     Avanteth him that he hath slain     And piked out hire fader brain,     And of the Skulle had mad a Cuppe.     Sche soffreth al til thei were uppe,     2570     And tho sche hath seknesse feigned,     And goth to chambre and hath compleigned     Unto a Maide which sche triste,     So that non other wyht it wiste.     This Mayde Glodeside is hote,     To whom this lady hath behote     Of ladischipe al that sche can,     To vengen hire upon this man,     Which dede hire drinke in such a plit     Among hem alle for despit        2580     Of hire and of hire fader bothe;     Wherof hire thoghtes ben so wrothe,     Sche seith, that sche schal noght be glad,     Til that sche se him so bestad     That he nomore make avant.     And thus thei felle in covenant,     That thei acorden ate laste,     With suche wiles as thei caste     That thei wol gete of here acord     Som orped knyht to sle this lord:    2590     And with this sleihte thei beginne,     How thei Helmege myhten winne,     Which was the kinges Boteler,     A proud a lusti Bacheler,     And Glodeside he loveth hote.     And sche, to make him more assote,     Hire love granteth, and be nyhte     Thei schape how thei togedre myhte     Abedde meete: and don it was     This same nyht; and in this cas        2600     The qwene hirself the nyht secounde     Wente in hire stede, and there hath founde     A chambre derk withoute liht,     And goth to bedde to this knyht.     And he, to kepe his observance,     To love doth his obeissance,     And weneth it be Glodeside;     And sche thanne after lay aside,     And axeth him what he hath do,     And who sche was sche tolde him tho,     2610     And seide: "Helmege, I am thi qwene,     Now schal thi love wel be sene     Of that thou hast thi wille wroght:     Or it schal sore ben aboght,     Or thou schalt worche as I thee seie.     And if thou wolt be such a weie     Do my plesance and holde it stille,     For evere I schal ben at thi wille,     Bothe I and al myn heritage."     Anon the wylde loves rage,        2620     In which noman him can governe,     Hath mad him that he can noght werne,     Bot fell al hol to hire assent:     And thus the whiel is al miswent,     The which fortune hath upon honde;     For how that evere it after stonde,     Thei schope among hem such a wyle,     The king was ded withinne a whyle.     So slihly cam it noght aboute     That thei ne ben descoevered oute,    2630     So that it thoghte hem for the beste     To fle, for there was no reste:     And thus the tresor of the king     Thei trusse and mochel other thing,     And with a certein felaschipe     Thei fledde and wente awey be schipe,     And hielde here rihte cours fro thenne,     Til that thei come to Ravenne,     Wher thei the Dukes helpe soghte.     And he, so as thei him besoghte,        2640     A place granteth forto duelle;     Bot after, whan he herde telle     Of the manere how thei have do,     This Duk let schape for hem so,     That of a puison which thei drunke     Thei hadden that thei have beswunke.     And al this made avant of Pride:     Good is therfore a man to hide     His oghne pris, for if he speke,     He mai lihtliche his thonk tobreke.     2650     In armes lith non avantance     To him which thenkth his name avance     And be renomed of his dede:     And also who that thenkth to spede     Of love, he mai him noght avaunte;     For what man thilke vice haunte,     His pourpos schal fulofte faile.     In armes he that wol travaile     Or elles loves grace atteigne,     His lose tunge he mot restreigne,     2660     Which berth of his honour the keie.     Forthi, my Sone, in alle weie     Tak riht good hiede of this matiere.     I thonke you, my fader diere,     This scole is of a gentil lore;     And if ther be oght elles more     Of Pride, which I schal eschuie,     Now axeth forth, and I wol suie     What thing that ye me wole enforme.     Mi Sone, yit in other forme    2670     Ther is a vice of Prides lore,     Which lich an hauk whan he wol sore,     Fleith upon heihte in his delices     After the likynge of his vices,     And wol no mannes resoun knowe,     Till he doun falle and overthrowe.     This vice veine gloire is hote,     Wherof, my Sone, I thee behote     To trete and speke in such a wise,     That thou thee myht the betre avise.    2680     The proude vice of veine gloire     Remembreth noght of purgatoire,     Hise worldes joyes ben so grete,     Him thenkth of hevene no beyete;     This lives Pompe is al his pes:     Yit schal he deie natheles,     And therof thenkth he bot a lite,     For al his lust is to delite     In newe thinges, proude and veine,     Als ferforth as he mai atteigne.     2690     I trowe, if that he myhte make     His body newe, he wolde take     A newe forme and leve his olde:     For what thing that he mai beholde,     The which to comun us is strange,     Anon his olde guise change     He wole and falle therupon,     Lich unto the Camelion,     Which upon every sondri hewe     That he beholt he moste newe        2700     His colour, and thus unavised     Fulofte time he stant desguised.     Mor jolif than the brid in Maii     He makth him evere freissh and gay,     And doth al his array desguise,     So that of him the newe guise     Of lusti folk alle othre take;     And ek he can carolles make,     Rondeal, balade and virelai.     And with al this, if that he may     2710     Of love gete him avantage,     Anon he wext of his corage     So overglad, that of his ende     Him thenkth ther is no deth comende:     For he hath thanne at alle tide     Of love such a maner pride,     Him thenkth his joie is endeles.     Now schrif thee, Sone, in godes pes,     And of thi love tell me plein     If that thi gloire hath be so vein.     2720     Mi fader, as touchinge of al     I may noght wel ne noght ne schal     Of veine gloire excuse me,     That I ne have for love be     The betre adresced and arraied;     And also I have ofte assaied     Rondeal, balade and virelai     For hire on whom myn herte lai     To make, and also forto peinte     Caroles with my wordes qweinte,    2730     To sette my pourpos alofte;     And thus I sang hem forth fulofte     In halle and ek in chambre aboute,     And made merie among the route,     Bot yit ne ferde I noght the bet.     Thus was my gloire in vein beset     Of al the joie that I made;     For whanne I wolde with hire glade,     And of hire love songes make,     Sche saide it was noght for hir sake,    2740     And liste noght my songes hiere     Ne witen what the wordes were.     So forto speke of myn arrai,     Yit couthe I nevere be so gay     Ne so wel make a songe of love,     Wherof I myhte ben above     And have encheson to be glad;     Bot rathere I am ofte adrad     For sorwe that sche seith me nay.     And natheles I wol noght say,        2750     That I nam glad on other side;     For fame, that can nothing hide,     Alday wol bringe unto myn Ere     Of that men speken hier and there,     How that my ladi berth the pris,     How sche is fair, how sche is wis,     How sche is wommanlich of chiere;     Of al this thing whanne I mai hiere,     What wonder is thogh I be fain?     And ek whanne I may hiere sain    2760     Tidinges of my ladi hele,     Althogh I may noght with hir dele,     Yit am I wonder glad of that;     For whanne I wot hire good astat,     As for that time I dar wel swere,     Non other sorwe mai me dere,     Thus am I gladed in this wise.     Bot, fader, of youre lores wise,     Of whiche ye be fully tawht,     Now tell me if yow thenketh awht     2770     That I therof am forto wyte.     Of that ther is I thee acquite,     Mi sone, he seide, and for thi goode     I wolde that thou understode:     For I thenke upon this matiere     To telle a tale, as thou schalt hiere,     How that ayein this proude vice     The hihe god of his justice     Is wroth and gret vengance doth.     Now herkne a tale that is soth:        2780     Thogh it be noght of loves kinde,     A gret ensample thou schalt finde     This veine gloire forto fle,     Which is so full of vanite.     Ther was a king that mochel myhte,     Which Nabugodonosor hihte,     Of whom that I spak hier tofore.     Yit in the bible his name is bore,     For al the world in Orient     Was hol at his comandement:    2790     As thanne of kinges to his liche     Was non so myhty ne so riche;     To his Empire and to his lawes,     As who seith, alle in thilke dawes     Were obeissant and tribut bere,     As thogh he godd of Erthe were.     With strengthe he putte kinges under,     And wroghte of Pride many a wonder;     He was so full of veine gloire,     That he ne hadde no memoire    2800     That ther was eny good bot he,     For pride of his prosperite;     Til that the hihe king of kinges,     Which seth and knoweth alle thinges,     Whos yhe mai nothing asterte,-     The privetes of mannes herte     Thei speke and sounen in his Ere     As thogh thei lowde wyndes were,-     He tok vengance upon this pride.     Bot for he wolde awhile abide     2810     To loke if he him wolde amende,     To him a foretokne he sende,     And that was in his slep be nyhte.     This proude kyng a wonder syhte     Hadde in his swevene, ther he lay:     Him thoghte, upon a merie day     As he behield the world aboute,     A tree fulgrowe he syh theroute,     Which stod the world amiddes evene,     Whos heihte straghte up to the hevene;     2820     The leves weren faire and large,     Of fruit it bar so ripe a charge,     That alle men it myhte fede:     He sih also the bowes spriede     Above al Erthe, in whiche were     The kinde of alle briddes there;     And eke him thoghte he syh also     The kinde of alle bestes go     Under this tre aboute round     And fedden hem upon the ground.        2830     As he this wonder stod and syh,     Him thoghte he herde a vois on hih     Criende, and seide aboven alle:     "Hew doun this tree and lett it falle,     The leves let defoule in haste     And do the fruit destruie and waste,     And let of schreden every braunche,     Bot ate Rote let it staunche.     Whan al his Pride is cast to grounde,     The rote schal be faste bounde,    2840     And schal no mannes herte bere,     Bot every lust he schal forbere     Of man, and lich an Oxe his mete     Of gras he schal pourchace and ete,     Til that the water of the hevene     Have waisshen him be times sevene,     So that he be thurghknowe ariht     What is the heveneliche myht,     And be mad humble to the wille     Of him which al mai save and spille."        2850     This king out of his swefne abreide,     And he upon the morwe it seide     Unto the clerkes whiche he hadde:     Bot non of hem the sothe aradde,     Was non his swevene cowthe undo.     And it stod thilke time so,     This king hadde in subjeccioun     Judee, and of affeccioun     Above alle othre on Daniel     He loveth, for he cowthe wel        2860     Divine that non other cowthe:     To him were alle thinges cowthe,     As he it hadde of goddes grace.     He was before the kinges face     Asent, and bode that he scholde     Upon the point the king of tolde     The fortune of his swevene expounde,     As it scholde afterward be founde.     Whan Daniel this swevene herde,     He stod long time er he ansuerde,     2870     And made a wonder hevy chiere.     The king tok hiede of his manere,     And bad him telle that he wiste,     As he to whom he mochel triste,     And seide he wolde noght be wroth.     Bot Daniel was wonder loth,     And seide: "Upon thi fomen alle,     Sire king, thi swevene mote falle;     And natheles touchende of this     I wol the tellen how it is,     2880     And what desese is to thee schape:     God wot if thou it schalt ascape.     The hihe tree, which thou hast sein     With lef and fruit so wel besein,     The which stod in the world amiddes,     So that the bestes and the briddes     Governed were of him al one,     Sire king, betokneth thi persone,     Which stant above all erthli thinges.     Thus regnen under the the kinges,     2890     And al the poeple unto thee louteth,     And al the world thi pouer doubteth,     So that with vein honour deceived     Thou hast the reverence weyved     Fro him which is thi king above,     That thou for drede ne for love     Wolt nothing knowen of thi godd;     Which now for thee hath mad a rodd,     Thi veine gloire and thi folie     With grete peines to chastie.     2900     And of the vois thou herdest speke,     Which bad the bowes forto breke     And hewe and felle doun the tree,     That word belongeth unto thee;     Thi regne schal ben overthrowe,     And thou despuiled for a throwe:     Bot that the Rote scholde stonde,     Be that thou schalt wel understonde,     Ther schal abyden of thi regne     A time ayein whan thou schalt regne.    2910     And ek of that thou herdest seie,     To take a mannes herte aweie     And sette there a bestial,     So that he lich an Oxe schal     Pasture, and that he be bereined     Be times sefne and sore peined,     Til that he knowe his goddes mihtes,     Than scholde he stonde ayein uprihtes,-     Al this betokneth thin astat,     Which now with god is in debat:        2920     Thi mannes forme schal be lassed,     Til sevene yer ben overpassed,     And in the liknesse of a beste     Of gras schal be thi real feste,     The weder schal upon thee reine.     And understond that al this peine,     Which thou schalt soffre thilke tide,     Is schape al only for thi pride     Of veine gloire, and of the sinne     Which thou hast longe stonden inne.     2930     So upon this condicioun     Thi swevene hath exposicioun.     Bot er this thing befalle in dede,     Amende thee, this wolde I rede:     Yif and departe thin almesse,     Do mercy forth with rihtwisnesse,     Besech and prei the hihe grace,     For so thou myht thi pes pourchace     With godd, and stonde in good acord."     Bot Pride is loth to leve his lord,        2940     And wol noght soffre humilite     With him to stonde in no degree;     And whan a schip hath lost his stiere,     Is non so wys that mai him stiere     Ayein the wawes in a rage.     This proude king in his corage     Humilite hath so forlore,     That for no swevene he sih tofore,     Ne yit for al that Daniel     Him hath conseiled everydel,    2950     He let it passe out of his mynde,     Thurgh veine gloire, and as the blinde,     He seth no weie, er him be wo.     And fell withinne a time so,     As he in Babiloine wente,     The vanite of Pride him hente;     His herte aros of veine gloire,     So that he drowh into memoire     His lordschipe and his regalie     With wordes of Surquiderie.    2960     And whan that he him most avaunteth,     That lord which veine gloire daunteth,     Al sodeinliche, as who seith treis,     Wher that he stod in his Paleis,     He tok him fro the mennes sihte:     Was non of hem so war that mihte     Sette yhe wher that he becom.     And thus was he from his kingdom     Into the wilde Forest drawe,     Wher that the myhti goddes lawe        2970     Thurgh his pouer dede him transforme     Fro man into a bestes forme;     And lich an Oxe under the fot     He graseth, as he nedes mot,     To geten him his lives fode.     Tho thoghte him colde grases goode,     That whilom eet the hote spices,     Thus was he torned fro delices:     The wyn which he was wont to drinke     He tok thanne of the welles brinke        2980     Or of the pet or of the slowh,     It thoghte him thanne good ynowh:     In stede of chambres wel arraied     He was thanne of a buissh wel paied,     The harde ground he lay upon,     For othre pilwes hath he non;     The stormes and the Reines falle,     The wyndes blowe upon him alle,     He was tormented day and nyht,     Such was the hihe goddes myht,     2990     Til sevene yer an ende toke.     Upon himself tho gan he loke;     In stede of mete gras and stres,     In stede of handes longe cles,     In stede of man a bestes lyke     He syh; and thanne he gan to syke     For cloth of gold and for perrie,     Which him was wont to magnefie.     Whan he behield his Cote of heres,     He wepte and with fulwoful teres     3000     Up to the hevene he caste his chiere     Wepende, and thoghte in this manere;     Thogh he no wordes myhte winne,     Thus seide his herte and spak withinne:     "O mihti godd, that al hast wroght     And al myht bringe ayein to noght,     Now knowe I wel, bot al of thee,     This world hath no prosperite:     In thin aspect ben alle liche,     The povere man and ek the riche,        3010     Withoute thee ther mai no wight,     And thou above alle othre miht.     O mihti lord, toward my vice     Thi merci medle with justice;     And I woll make a covenant,     That of my lif the remenant     I schal it be thi grace amende,     And in thi lawe so despende     That veine gloire I schal eschuie,     And bowe unto thin heste and suie    3020     Humilite, and that I vowe."     And so thenkende he gan doun bowe,     And thogh him lacke vois and speche,     He gan up with his feet areche,     And wailende in his bestly stevene     He made his pleignte unto the hevene.     He kneleth in his wise and braieth,     To seche merci and assaieth     His god, which made him nothing strange,     Whan that he sih his pride change.        3030     Anon as he was humble and tame,     He fond toward his god the same,     And in a twinklinge of a lok     His mannes forme ayein he tok,     And was reformed to the regne     In which that he was wont to regne;     So that the Pride of veine gloire     Evere afterward out of memoire     He let it passe. And thus is schewed     What is to ben of Pride unthewed     3040     Ayein the hihe goddes lawe,     To whom noman mai be felawe.     Forthi, my Sone, tak good hiede     So forto lede thi manhiede,     That thou ne be noght lich a beste.     Bot if thi lif schal ben honeste,     Thou most humblesce take on honde,     For thanne myht thou siker stonde:     And forto speke it otherwise,     A proud man can no love assise;        3050     For thogh a womman wolde him plese,     His Pride can noght ben at ese.     Ther mai noman to mochel blame     A vice which is forto blame;     Forthi men scholde nothing hide     That mihte falle in blame of Pride,     Which is the werste vice of alle:     Wherof, so as it was befalle,     The tale I thenke of a Cronique     To telle, if that it mai thee like,        3060     So that thou myht humblesce suie     And ek the vice of Pride eschuie,     Wherof the gloire is fals and vein;     Which god himself hath in desdeign,     That thogh it mounte for a throwe,     It schal doun falle and overthrowe.     A king whilom was yong and wys,     The which sette of his wit gret pris.     Of depe ymaginaciouns     And strange interpretaciouns,        3070     Problemes and demandes eke,     His wisdom was to finde and seke;     Wherof he wolde in sondri wise     Opposen hem that weren wise.     Bot non of hem it myhte bere     Upon his word to yeve answere,     Outaken on, which was a knyht;     To him was every thing so liht,     That also sone as he hem herde,     The kinges wordes he answerde;    3080     What thing the king him axe wolde,     Therof anon the trowthe he tolde.     The king somdiel hadde an Envie,     And thoghte he wolde his wittes plie     To sette som conclusioun,     Which scholde be confusioun     Unto this knyht, so that the name     And of wisdom the hihe fame     Toward himself he wolde winne.     And thus of al his wit withinne        3090     This king began to studie and muse,     What strange matiere he myhte use     The knyhtes wittes to confounde;     And ate laste he hath it founde,     And for the knyht anon he sente,     That he schal telle what he mente.     Upon thre pointz stod the matiere     Of questions, as thou schalt hiere.     The ferste point of alle thre     Was this: "What thing in his degre        3100     Of al this world hath nede lest,     And yet men helpe it althermest?"     The secounde is: "What most is worth,     And of costage is lest put forth?"     The thridde is: "Which is of most cost,     And lest is worth and goth to lost?"     The king thes thre demandes axeth,     And to the knyht this lawe he taxeth,     That he schal gon and come ayein     The thridde weke, and telle him plein        3110     To every point, what it amonteth.     And if so be that he misconteth,     To make in his answere a faile,     Ther schal non other thing availe,     The king seith, bot he schal be ded     And lese hise goodes and his hed.     The knyht was sori of this thing     And wolde excuse him to the king,     Bot he ne wolde him noght forbere,     And thus the knyht of his ansuere    3120     Goth hom to take avisement:     Bot after his entendement     The more he caste his wit aboute,     The more he stant therof in doute.     Tho wiste he wel the kinges herte,     That he the deth ne scholde asterte,     And such a sorwe hath to him take,     That gladschipe he hath al forsake.     He thoghte ferst upon his lif,     And after that upon his wif,    3130     Upon his children ek also,     Of whiche he hadde dowhtres tuo;     The yongest of hem hadde of age     Fourtiene yer, and of visage     Sche was riht fair, and of stature     Lich to an hevenely figure,     And of manere and goodli speche,     Thogh men wolde alle Londes seche,     Thei scholden noght have founde hir like.     Sche sih hire fader sorwe and sike,        3140     And wiste noght the cause why;     So cam sche to him prively,     And that was where he made his mone     Withinne a Gardin al him one;     Upon hire knes sche gan doun falle     With humble herte and to him calle,     And seide: "O goode fader diere,     Why make ye thus hevy chiere,     And I wot nothing how it is?     And wel ye knowen, fader, this,    3150     What aventure that you felle     Ye myhte it saufly to me telle,     For I have ofte herd you seid,     That ye such trust have on me leid,     That to my soster ne my brother,     In al this world ne to non other,     Ye dorste telle a privite     So wel, my fader, as to me.     Forthi, my fader, I you preie,     Ne casteth noght that herte aweie,    3160     For I am sche that wolde kepe     Youre honour." And with that to wepe     Hire yhe mai noght be forbore,     Sche wissheth forto ben unbore,     Er that hire fader so mistriste     To tellen hire of that he wiste:     And evere among merci sche cride,     That he ne scholde his conseil hide     From hire that so wolde him good     And was so nyh his fleissh and blod.    3170     So that with wepinge ate laste     His chiere upon his child he caste,     And sorwfulli to that sche preide     He tolde his tale and thus he seide:     "The sorwe, dowhter, which I make     Is noght al only for my sake,     Bot for thee bothe and for you alle:     For such a chance is me befalle,     That I schal er this thridde day     Lese al that evere I lese may,     3180     Mi lif and al my good therto:     Therfore it is I sorwe so."     "What is the cause, helas!" quod sche,     "Mi fader, that ye scholden be     Ded and destruid in such a wise?"     And he began the pointz devise,     Whiche as the king told him be mowthe,     And seid hir pleinly that he cowthe     Ansuere unto no point of this.     And sche, that hiereth how it is,     3190     Hire conseil yaf and seide tho:     "Mi fader, sithen it is so,     That ye can se non other weie,     Bot that ye moste nedes deie,     I wolde preie of you a thing:     Let me go with you to the king,     And ye schull make him understonde     How ye, my wittes forto fonde,     Have leid your ansuere upon me;     And telleth him, in such degre    3200     Upon my word ye wole abide     To lif or deth, what so betide.     For yit par chaunce I may pourchace     With som good word the kinges grace,     Your lif and ek your good to save;     For ofte schal a womman have     Thing which a man mai noght areche."     The fader herde his dowhter speche,     And thoghte ther was resoun inne,     And sih his oghne lif to winne    3210     He cowthe don himself no cure;     So betre him thoghte in aventure     To put his lif and al his good,     Than in the maner as it stod     His lif in certein forto lese.     And thus thenkende he gan to chese     To do the conseil of this Maide,     And tok the pourpos which sche saide.     The dai was come and forth thei gon,     Unto the Court thei come anon,     3220     Wher as the king in juggement     Was set and hath this knyht assent.     Arraied in hire beste wise     This Maiden with hire wordes wise     Hire fader ladde be the hond     Into the place, wher he fond     The king with othre whiche he wolde,     And to the king knelende he tolde     As he enformed was tofore,     And preith the king that he therfore    3230     His dowhtres wordes wolde take,     And seith that he wol undertake     Upon hire wordes forto stonde.     Tho was ther gret merveile on honde,     That he, which was so wys a knyht,     His lif upon so yong a wyht     Besette wolde in jeupartie,     And manye it hielden for folie:     Bot ate laste natheles     The king comandeth ben in pes,     3240     And to this Maide he caste his chiere,     And seide he wolde hire tale hiere,     He bad hire speke, and sche began:     "Mi liege lord, so as I can,"     Quod sche, "the pointz of whiche I herde,     Thei schul of reson ben ansuerde.     The ferste I understonde is this,     What thing of al the world it is,     Which men most helpe and hath lest nede.     Mi liege lord, this wolde I rede:    3250     The Erthe it is, which everemo     With mannes labour is bego;     Als wel in wynter as in Maii     The mannes hond doth what he mai     To helpe it forth and make it riche,     And forthi men it delve and dyche     And eren it with strengthe of plowh,     Wher it hath of himself ynowh,     So that his nede is ate leste.     For every man and bridd and beste,    3260     And flour and gras and rote and rinde,     And every thing be weie of kynde     Schal sterve, and Erthe it schal become;     As it was out of Erthe nome,     It schal to therthe torne ayein:     And thus I mai be resoun sein     That Erthe is the most nedeles,     And most men helpe it natheles.     So that, my lord, touchende of this     I have ansuerd hou that it is.    3270     That other point I understod,     Which most is worth and most is good,     And costeth lest a man to kepe:     Mi lord, if ye woll take kepe,     I seie it is Humilite,     Thurgh which the hihe trinite     As for decerte of pure love     Unto Marie from above,     Of that he knew hire humble entente,     His oghne Sone adoun he sente,     3280     Above alle othre and hire he ches     For that vertu which bodeth pes:     So that I may be resoun calle     Humilite most worth of alle.     And lest it costeth to maintiene,     In al the world as it is sene;     For who that hath humblesce on honde,     He bringth no werres into londe,     For he desireth for the beste     To setten every man in reste.     3290     Thus with your hihe reverence     Me thenketh that this evidence     As to this point is sufficant.     And touchende of the remenant,     Which is the thridde of youre axinges,     What leste is worth of alle thinges,     And costeth most, I telle it, Pride;     Which mai noght in the hevene abide,     For Lucifer with hem that felle     Bar Pride with him into helle.    3300     Ther was Pride of to gret a cost,     Whan he for Pride hath hevene lost;     And after that in Paradis     Adam for Pride loste his pris:     In Midelerthe and ek also     Pride is the cause of alle wo,     That al the world ne may suffise     To stanche of Pride the reprise:     Pride is the heved of alle Sinne,     Which wasteth al and mai noght winne;        3310     Pride is of every mis the pricke,     Pride is the werste of alle wicke,     And costneth most and lest is worth     In place where he hath his forth.     Thus have I seid that I wol seie     Of myn answere, and to you preie,     Mi liege lord, of youre office     That ye such grace and such justice     Ordeigne for mi fader hiere,     That after this, whan men it hiere,        3320     The world therof mai speke good."     The king, which reson understod     And hath al herd how sche hath said,     Was inly glad and so wel paid     That al his wraththe is overgo:     And he began to loke tho     Upon this Maiden in the face,     In which he fond so mochel grace,     That al his pris on hire he leide,     In audience and thus he seide:    3330     "Mi faire Maide, wel thee be!     Of thin ansuere and ek of thee     Me liketh wel, and as thou wilt,     Foryive be thi fader gilt.     And if thou were of such lignage,     That thou to me were of parage,     And that thi fader were a Pier,     As he is now a Bachilier,     So seker as I have a lif,     Thou scholdest thanne be my wif.     3340     Bot this I seie natheles,     That I wol schape thin encress;     What worldes good that thou wolt crave,     Axe of my yifte and thou schalt have."     And sche the king with wordes wise     Knelende thonketh in this wise:     "Mi liege lord, god mot you quite!     Mi fader hier hath bot a lite     Of warison, and that he wende     Hadde al be lost; bot now amende     3350     He mai wel thurgh your noble grace."     With that the king riht in his place     Anon forth in that freisshe hete     An    Erldom, which thanne of eschete     Was late falle into his hond,     Unto this knyht with rente and lond     Hath yove and with his chartre sesed;     And thus was all the noise appesed.     This Maiden, which sat on hire knes     Tofore the king, hise charitees        3360     Comendeth, and seide overmore:     "Mi liege lord, riht now tofore     Ye seide, as it is of record,     That if my fader were a lord     And Pier unto these othre grete,     Ye wolden for noght elles lete,     That I ne scholde be your wif;     And this wot every worthi lif,     A kinges word it mot ben holde.     Forthi, my lord, if that ye wolde    3370     So gret a charite fulfille,     God wot it were wel my wille:     For he which was a Bacheler,     Mi fader, is now mad a Pier;     So whenne as evere that I cam,     An Erles dowhter now I am."     This yonge king, which peised al,     Hire beaute and hir wit withal,     As he that was with love hent,     Anon therto yaf his assent.    3380     He myhte noght the maide asterte,     That sche nis ladi of his herte;     So that he tok hire to his wif,     To holde whyl that he hath lif:     And thus the king toward his knyht     Acordeth him, as it is riht.     And over this good is to wite,     In the Cronique as it is write,     This noble king of whom I tolde     Of Spaine be tho daies olde    3390     The kingdom hadde in governance,     And as the bok makth remembrance,     Alphonse was his propre name:     The knyht also, if I schal name,     Danz Petro hihte, and as men telle,     His dowhter wyse Peronelle     Was cleped, which was full of grace:     And that was sene in thilke place,     Wher sche hir fader out of teene     Hath broght and mad hirself a qweene,    3400     Of that sche hath so wel desclosed     The pointz wherof sche was opposed.     Lo now, my Sone, as thou myht hiere,     Of al this thing to my matiere     Bot on I take, and that is Pride,     To whom no grace mai betide:     In hevene he fell out of his stede,     And Paradis him was forbede,     The goode men in Erthe him hate,     So that to helle he mot algate,    3410     Where every vertu schal be weyved     And every vice be received.     Bot Humblesce is al otherwise,     Which most is worth, and no reprise     It takth ayein, bot softe and faire,     If eny thing stond in contraire,     With humble speche it is redresced:     Thus was this yonge Maiden blessed,     The which I spak of now tofore,     Hire fader lif sche gat therfore,     3420     And wan with al the kinges love.     Forthi, my Sone, if thou wolt love,     It sit thee wel to leve Pride     And take Humblesce upon thi side;     The more of grace thou schalt gete.     Mi fader, I woll noght foryete     Of this that ye have told me hiere,     And if that eny such manere     Of humble port mai love appaie,     Hierafterward I thenke assaie:    3430     Bot now forth over I beseche     That ye more of my schrifte seche.     Mi goode Sone, it schal be do:     Now herkne and ley an Ere to;     For as touchende of Prides fare,     Als ferforth as I can declare     In cause of vice, in cause of love,     That hast thou pleinly herd above,     So that ther is nomor to seie     Touchende of that; bot other weie    3440     Touchende Envie I thenke telle,     Which hath the propre kinde of helle,     Withoute cause to misdo     Toward himself and othre also,     Hierafterward as understonde     Thou schalt the spieces, as thei stonde.     Explicit Liber Primus